#the way he was shushing him and rambling kind of insanely and the little guy was just enjoying the flight | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

slasherholic · 5 years ago

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(psst... did someone say Mikey whump? guys I think someone said Mikey whump…)

Frisky February Prompt: Electricity~ (yes it’s 15 days too early shush) @slashthedice

synopsis: Michael gets served up some nasty, nasty revenge by someone who really, really has it out for him.

warnings: torture in a medical setting, sexual assault, mikey has a bad time ok

foreword: the opinions expressed here by the POV character about certain sensitive topics in no way reflect my own beliefs <3

No Faith in Medicine | Michael Myers x Reader | NSFW

The hospital corridor is long and grey and stretches onward toward a single bolted door, labeled by the rectangular sign hanging above it as Therapy Theater No. 5.

This deep within the bowels of the sanitarium, below the patient wards and the enrichment centers and the checkered courtyard, there is hardly any of the familiar clamour; so as you stride closer to the door the clack of your bootheels over the beige linoleum carries like thunder.

Smith’s Grove was never the sort of place you had pictured yourself ending up during all those sleepless nights studying for your Ph.D, and truthfully, you can’t stand it here. The deliberate blandness of the hospital, with its color palettes limited to inoffensive whites and blues and greys—meticulously designed so as not to provoke its residents—wears on you more than anything else.

You feel like you’re suffocating here; but it doesn’t matter.

This job was never about you to begin with. It was never about some commendable interest in the healing of troubled minds, either; oh-no. There are two-hundred-and-forty-nine permanent patients living inside these sound-proof walls, and while it may not be a very doctorly thing to admit, you don’t give a rat’s ass about two-hundred-and-forty-eight of them.

...and as for that last “troubled mind,” well…

The breezy summer afternoon that Michael Myers was sentenced to life imprisonment exists in your head as vividly as a snapshot picture.

Almost as vivid is your memory of the Halloween that a policeman had come knocking at your front door to inform you in a strictly-business-voice that your sister was found dead in her kitchen, her throat slit open from ear to ear.

You remember watching from your couch as the gavel came down and the judge ruled the man who had taken your sister’s life away as criminally insane—and not responsible for his actions on that fateful October night—and therefor not legally a candidate for the death penalty.

You remember the burning, frustrated tears streaming down your face, the shatter of glass as you hurled the remote at the television screen, and then sinking down in a heap on the floor and screaming until your lungs were raw and your voice was in tatters, because it wasn’t fair, wasn’t fair, wasn’t fair.

So when the news came out that Myers was to be transferred back to Smith’s Grove—hardly a forty minute commute from your own house—you had been out the door that very same day, speeding in your car down the highway, ready to accept any available position the Sanitarium would offer you for your credentials.

It had been your one shot at revenge on the sick, evil fucker who had ruined your happiness; and you were prepared to move heaven and earth just to bring Myers hell.

It had taken eight months before you even laid eyes on the man for the first time.

You’d landed yourself a patient therapy position, but only had the clearance to treat patients who fell under the “medium” and “high-risk” categories. In the entire hospital there were only two patients who fell under the third and final category: a spitting lunatic of a man, who couldn’t be safely approached without first being drugged half-asleep with antipsychotics...

...and Myers.

You had possessed the patience of a saint, climbing through promotion after promotion.

And the very minute that you were handed back a fresh copy of your I.D, now with a little red stamp at the bottom, the stamp that meant you were cleared to work with Myers, you had raced down to the front desk to file your recommendation for treatment.

Three days later, after hours of debriefing by Dr. Ashton, Myers’ new court-assigned psychiatrist, you came face to face with the worst criminal the sanitarium had ever known.

You had seen Myers’ face pictured in black and white on newspaper articles and in fuzzy low-definition on T.V.

And absolutely none of that could have prepared you for witnessing him in the flesh.

The thing that had startled you most when you were led by Dr. Ashton into Michael’s barren, cramped room—the thing that practically had you reeling when your eyes fell on the motionless figure sitting on the cot in the corner, chained at the wrists and ankles by a metal link fastened to the floor—the thing you still despise yourself for thinking—

—is that Myers was jaw-droppingly, stunningly handsome.

His were the kind of ethereal good looks that you might expect to find in some renaissance painting, or a Grecian statue, or a fantasy book.

You had stood staring across the room at the motionless young man, drinking in all the features of his vacant, pretty face; overcome by complete and total disbelief that this was actually the person responsible for all your grief.

And the very next second, that disbelief was shattered like a dropped vase; when you looked into Myers’ stare.

It brought down the temperature in the room like a cold-snap. It was not directed at you, only at the floor, yet it had you shuddering anyway, had all the hairs on your arms standing straight up. It was not a lights-on-but-nobody-home sort of gaze, the kind you were expecting from how Myers had been described by his former psychiatrist. His face was blank, yes; that was accurate enough.

But his eyes, they were the furthest thing from it.

Michael Myers had the eyes of a ruthless, calculating, viciously deliberate predator.

The longer you had stood there, gawking at Myers as if he were a tiger in a cage, hardly listening to Dr. Ashton’s rambling about his admiration of your interest in his patient’s treatment, the more you became aware of the charge crackling in the air; like the moment in a thunderstorm just before lightning rips through the sky. It was as if every fiber in your body could sense the danger radiating from this man; you could all but see and smell the invisible blood staining his hands.

It had turned your vision into a seething cloud of red.

Here was a murderer—the worst kind of murderer, who was perfectly, undoubtedly aware of his crimes, a fact you could tell from just his eyes—who carried in his heart not a single shred of remorse for the lives he’d ripped away. Who, when he was unable to kill, had resigned himself to sitting and anticipating the day when he might once again have his hands around a warm throat, the day when he would pick right back up where he left off and take another life as carelessly and thoughtlessly as one snuffing out a candle.

And this man had been allowed to keep breathing.

You think of all these things as you reach the end of the corridor and swipe your I.D card on the door to Therapy Theater No.5. Hidden locking mechanisms whirr and click open.

You place your hand around the cool metal handle. For a moment, you just stand there. Feeling your pounding heart in your chest.

It pounds not because you are fearful; you don’t care if you get caught because of what you are about to do. You don’t care if you get fired, or if you get your license taken away, or even if you go to jail. Those are the most trivial, unimportant things in the world. No. Your heart does not pound for those reasons.

It pounds because, finally, there will be justice.

Finally, the evil son-of-a-bitch who slaughtered your sister is getting what he deserved all along.

And you get to be the one to flip the switch.

You turn the door handle and step into the room.

Therapy Theater No.5 is bathed in bright fluorescent light and smells strongly of antiseptic and sterilization. Three people are already in the room: two armed guards, who nod in acknowledgment at you when you enter.

And laid out at the center across a white padded table, dressed in a pale blue hospital gown, strapped tightly down at the wrists and ankles by hospital-grade cuffs, looking up at the ceiling as if utterly uncaring, motionless save for the rise and fall of his ribs—Myers.

A nurse had come in before you to prepare the room for treatment. The therapy you’re meant to be administering is simple and painless: electrodes are fixed to the patient’s body and a weak electrical current is passed through, stimulating choice muscle groups—and in more recent cases, even parts of the brain.

You had emphasized that part specifically in your pitch of the therapy to Dr. Ashton, referencing a study which showed how violent tendencies could be soothed in patients who underwent the treatment.

And no, you’d reassured him, it was nothing like electroconvulsive therapy.

The electrical current used in E.S.T is never strong enough to induce seizures. The only thing the subject feels is a mild, if not pleasant, buzz...

·…or at least that’s how it’s meant to be administered.

Tampering with the wattage of the machine had turned out to be laughably easy. A few snipped wires here, a few crunched numbers there, and now the bulky device sitting atop the roll-around table beside your “patient” can deliver a shock nastier than a taser with every throw of the switch.

It’s not strong enough to stop a human heart (god, you wish.) But it is enough to make Myers hurt.

Enough to make him writhe on that table.

Maybe even enough to make the heartless bastard feel something for a change.

You thank the guards before dismissing them. They leave the room but you know they won’t go far; no further than right outside in the hall, waiting through the entire session with their hands on their batons in case Myers gets out of hand.

Their security would be a welcome thing, if you were actually about to /treat/ Myers instead of torturing the living daylights out of him. But now, the guards are just another problem in need of a solution.

Though you are almost confident that Myers will retain his silence throughout the ordeal—that he’ll uphold his veil of distance and aloofness and total lack of care with the stubbornness of an ass—you’re not about to bet your shot at justice on it.

That’s what the ball gag in your coat pocket is for.

Reaching down to check that it is still there, excitement swells in your belly as your fingers graze the black silicone.

On the table, Myers is still motionless. He doesn’t tilt his head to regard you. He pays you no attention at all, in fact, as if you aren’t even there to begin with. Never do his steely eyes move from their fixed place on the ceiling light hanging above him.

As you walk up to the roll-around table, plucking a pair of latex gloves from a box stashed on the shelf beneath before snapping them curtly on, for a reason that you can’t put into words, you find yourself hesitating to look Myers in the face.

It doesn’t matter that he’s restrained; it doesn’t matter that there are two armed and capable guards standing watch right outside. Despite both these things, that vitriolic, charged aura you had felt in his cell still surrounds him now, polluting the room, hanging like a storm cloud over your head.

It’s as if some submissive animal instinct has gripped your brain and now screams warnings at you: Predator. Danger. Don’t look it in the eye. Don’t provoke it.

You do your damndest to dismiss the feeling as nerves.

In a little white tray next to the E.S.T machine sits a filled syringe; a sedative. Dr. Ashton has insisted on it to better ensure your safety, as well as Myers’ cooperation. In the psychiatrist’s exact words:

“These days Michael is, ah, fussier about this kind of treatment—you know, the kind they gotta bring in the guards for, the needles, the cuffs, the whole nine-yards.

It’s a theory of mine that, after living with the sort of power Michael did, the loss of his own control doesn’t sit as nicely anymore. He doesn’t like it. And he’s not afraid to let us know just how much he doesn’t like it.”

Fussy. That was the word Ashton had used to describe Myers.

It had taken every shred of self-control you possessed not to scoff in the Doctor’s face at that; as if the man laid out before you now were some sort of stubborn, overgrown toddler, and not a remorseless, murderous psychopath.

You don’t spare the sedative a second glance as you unravel the bundle of wires and nodes connected to the E.S.T machine; Myers is going to be awake to feel every goddamned second of what you do to him.

Only after you’re finished with him will you finally send him under.

You can picture the conversation with Ashton now: Yes sir, the sedative worked like a charm, he was out like a light the entire time; no sir, no complications at all.

You take your time setting up the machine because you’re still hesitant to even look at Myers, let alone touch him. But when the wires are all connected, the red power button flashing idly in standby, there is nothing left to do except attach the electrodes.

You force yourself to look him in the face as you approach. You should not be afraid of this man; you should resent him, should despise him, but should not fear him. He doesn’t deserve to hold that sort of power over you, or anyone else, ever again.

So you look.

Michael is still watching the ceiling. According to his eyes, he does not acknowledge you.

But just from how the hair on your nape stands on end you know you’re being watched.

Myers is regarding you coolly in his periphery with the curiosity of a feline, feigning detachment and disinterest; but the weight and pressure of that penetrating gaze could not be more obvious if it were a ton of bricks coming right down on your head.

With a deep breath to rein in your resolve, you reach down, your fingers working to undo the first knot on Myers’ hospital gown.

Quickly, you discover that it is one thing to look at Myers; to feel for yourself his ruthless awareness, the raw intensity of his presence.

But to touch him is another thing altogether.

He draws a breath of his own as you fidget with his gown, his strong rib cage expanding beneath your fingers. You shudder at the sudden pressure of his body; whether out of disgust, or anger, or some fucked up fascination, you aren’t sure.

After undoing the ties on both sides, you lift the front of his gown up and off—

—and find that Myers is totally naked underneath.

Standard hospital procedure for a therapy like this one. Nothing new.

But it’s different when the patient looks like this.

You hate yourself for ogling him. You detest the way your eyes rove across Myers’ body, lingering on all the features that your lizard-brain decides it likes; from the stark tendons in his neck to his sharp and angular collarbones, from his broad, rounded shoulders to the beautiful definition in his abdomen, and down even further than that before you can stop yourself.

To the V of his obliques—to the trail of curly brown pubic hair on his pelvis—and all the way down to his flaccid penis.

You snatch a towel from the roll-around and drape it hurriedly over his hips. Not for the sake of his modesty; just so you don’t have to worry about your eyes straying down to the cock of the man who murdered your sister.

As far as the placement of the electrodes on his body, you honestly haven’t given it much thought. It seemed like the sort of thing that would come to you like an epiphany, as if suddenly, in the moment, you would know exactly where to hit Myers to really make him suffer.

But no such epiphany comes. Oh well; you have an hour to experiment.

Grabbing the two nodes off their holders, you run the wires across his chest and press the little round circles down flat against his pectorals.

When your gloved fingers graze Myers’ skin you nearly jerk back your hand, startled. The man is hot like a stove.

Your medical fascination is instantly piqued—Myers must have the hottest resting body temperature you’ve ever encountered. You have to force away intrusive thoughts of sticking a thermometer in his mouth to see that number for yourself.

Focus.

Tugging up on the wires, you test the integrity of the node’s suction. They don’t budge from his chest, lifting his skin with them as you pull. Perfect; It’s nearly time.

Now for the gag.

You just have to cross your fingers and pray that you can actually get it in his mouth.

Looking Myers in the face a third time proves to be no less jarring than it had been the second or the first. You’re just relieved that even after all your poking and prodding he is still pretending not to be interested in you, or in the things you’re doing to his body.

You clear your throat before speaking to him because you don’t trust it enough not to crack.

“Open up,” you command him, mustering every authoritative bone in your body and sounding very official even to your own ears.

Removing the gag from your pocket, you hold it up as if to show him, taking care to conceal the black silicone ball with your hand.

“Mouthguard.”

You doubt that Myers has seen this sort of gag before. Or that he even knows what a gag is. Still, you’re not taking that risk. If this doesn’t work then you’re going to have to drug him just to get the damn thing in place, then wait for him to sober up again—a colossal waste of time.

For a tense second, Myers does not respond to your command. He just lays there on the table, inhaling and exhaling, looking incredibly bored with you, with his nakedness, with the electrodes strapped to his chest.

Your jaw goes tense. You nearly repeat yourself.

But then, he opens up his mouth.

Beneath the harsh overhead lighting his teeth gleam wetly. You suspect immediately that he’s going to try and bite your fingers off the second you get too close.

Game on, fucker.

From the shelf below the roll-around you snatch up a small blotting rag. Walking around to stand at the head of the table, you gaze down at Myers again.

“The strap goes underneath.” You inform him. “I need you to lift your head up.”

He does.

And you strike. Faster than you had thought yourself capable.

You drape the rag over his eyes so that he can’t see what’s coming. Thrusting the gag hard into his open mouth, you wedge it firmly between his teeth. In the corner of the room, Myers’ heart monitor spikes suddenly, the electronic beeping speeding up momentarily—a sound that has you beaming with pride.

You’ve actually managed to startle him.

As you clip the strap into place around the back of his head, a strange sense of accomplishment floods your body—you’ve done it. You’ve actually done it. Everything is ready.

Every sacrifice you’ve made in these past eight months, every hour spent in this godforsaken hellhole, it was all worth it just to bring about this single moment.

The moment is made only sweeter when you rip the rag away from Myers’ face.

Oh. Now you have his attention.

Those pale eyes are looking straight up at you. Considering you with the cutting gaze of a hawk. Working out the situation.

You glare right back down at him. You stare deep into his eyes, the triumphant fire now raging in your chest burning hotter than the ice in his stare, more furiously than all the danger—and you find that you are not afraid of him anymore. Like this, Myers is nothing. He’s not a boogeyman. Not a phantom. He’s just a man—stripped of all his mysticism. Strapped to a table. Naked. Gagged.

Powerless.

Just as powerless to stop what you’re about to do to him as each and every one of the people whose lives he took away.

“Hello, Michael.” You hold his fierce eye-contact as you speak. “Ten months ago you broke into my sister’s house and murdered her.”

Myers doesn’t blink. But neither do you.

“When they tried you, you were supposed to leave that courtroom a dead man walking; you were supposed to die. That's how our justice system works—when you do the things you did, you don’t get to keep on living.”

Nothing changes on Myers’ face as you speak. Nothing changes in his eyes. Not one molecule in his body has an atom of care to give about the words you’re saying. He breathes around the gag, his heart monitor beeping slow and steady.

“I don’t give a single fuck about what that judge said,” You continue. “And I don’t care how sick in the head you really are. You knew exactly what you were doing that night. I can see it in your eyes, Myers—you loved every fucking second of it. And that’s the only thing that matters.”

You draw a long breath. One that you hold in your lungs before letting slowly out again.

“You’re the evilest son-of-a-bitch on this entire fucking planet; and you deserve to die.”

Walking over to the E.S.T machine, fighting back with tooth and claw against furious tears now threatening your eyes, you place your finger over the power switch.

Myers watches you; and you notice something flicker to life in his glacial eyes. Not an emotion. Just a realization.

Good. He understands now. He understands what you’re about to do to him.

“Someone has to make you pay. Someone has to.”

Michael just stares. Watching you. Watching your finger on the switch. His pulse on the monitor ticks as leisurely as if he were about to fall asleep.

“And guess what, you sick fuck?”

Still staring—not blinking—breaths coming slowly.

“I’m so fucking happy that it’s me.”

You throw the switch—

—the wires crackle with live electricity—

—and all of Myers’ deliberate, calculated control is shattered like a dropped glass.

His body seizes. His eyes snap shut. His fingers curl into fists that turn his knuckles whiter than the table beneath him. The tendons in his neck and forearms jump out, straining beneath his skin. His heart monitor beats erratically, the little green line on the screen spiking sharply, racing out of control.

Your eyes are glued to the grisly scene. You devour each and every involuntary reaction, relishing in the complete and utter breakdown of his control.

Fifteen gorgeous seconds pass before you remember that you were supposed to be counting to ten. Whoops. You might be frying his brain into an unfeeling stupor at this point. You flip the switch off in an instant because you need him awake, aware.

Myers’ back falls flat against the table, the current cutting off as abruptly as it began. The muscles in his chest continue to contract and seize beneath his skin long after the electricity is gone; you count the spasms as they tear through his pectorals like sets of waves.

When the spasming stops, his chest heaves up and down, winded. His breaths around the gag come heavily. His eyes are still shut; but no longer are they /squeezed/ shut.

For a moment, you really think that he’s passed out.

Then his eyes twitch beneath their lids and flutter open again. Blinking. Focusing—

—flitting right back on your face. Right back to the spot where he had left them before the current forced them shut.

Myers’ eyes are devoid of care. He is entirely unperturbed by what has just happened to him; entirely unthreatened. But now, that murderous intent—the charge which until now you’d only felt in the air around him—is written in his stare as plain as day.

I am going to kill you, says Michael’s gaze, as nonchalant as if he were stating some trivial fact about the universe, like water is wet, or the sky is blue.

It makes your blood boil.

Adding insult to injury, the speed at which Myers regains control of his body is nothing short of infuriating. You fume as you watch the way his breaths level out again, the beeping from his heart monitor falling back into the former slow, rhythmic pace.

You feel as though you should say something to him; like you should retaliate to this defiance in some way that isn’t staring, because you’ve already lost that battle; you cannot possibly hope to match the severity of Myers’ gaze.

But you don’t.

In your heart of hearts you know that your words will go right through his skull, unheard. There is only one language that Myers understands; only one language that he can comprehend down to his marrow. So you’ll speak it to him.

Without wasting another breath, your fingers find the power switch again. And those defiant eyes of his snap shut a second time.

When you shut the current off the results are the same as before; Myers is heaving on the table. But he takes back his control just as quickly, his stoicism prevailing.

By the third time however, his breaths have begun to linger in their heaviness—

—by the fourth he draws them as shallow as a winded sprinter running a race—

—by the fifth, the intervals between the violent seizing-up of his body are too brief for him to catch his breath—

—and the way he now gasps around the obstructing gag, fighting and failing to suck in air past its silicone, his nostrils flaring rapidly to compensate, is the most beautiful display of desperation that you have ever witnessed.

The sixth time you throw the switch, Myers actually does pass out.

When the current stops his body loses its tension with the abruptness of a cut wire. You wait impatiently for him to open his eyes again with your finger lingering over the switch, preparing to meet that steely gaze with another brutal jolt of electricity.

You wait; and Myers’ heart monitor chugs away like a freight train going up a hill.

Still waiting… waiting...

...and nothing happens. Myers is out cold.

The contentment now pulsing through your veins is what you imagine a shot of heroin feels like. Snapping on a fresh pair of gloves, you walk up to the side of the table to admire your work.

The first thing you notice is the sweat. Myers’ body is drenched in it. It beads up on his chest and clavicle, on his biceps and shoulders, on his brow and cheeks, the skin there flushing a shade of stark, exhausted pink. Gorgeous.

Your eyes travel down his body to continue the examination; you stop at his hands.

Myers’ hands are bloody.

Crescent-shaped cuts litter the skin of his palms, marking the place where his own blunt fingernails had dug in uncontrollably, over and over and over again. The fresh blood streaks in little rivulets down his hands and pools on the white padding of the table beneath.

You chew the inside of your lip as you stare at the mess; these cuts might be tricky to explain away. You’ll have to gauze them and tell Dr. Ashton that his patient did it to himself; maybe recommend that he be switched to a higher Thorazine dosage to really sell the lie.

Luckily, that’s a problem for the future. As for right now, you’re rather enjoying the irony of Myers’ own blood staining his hands for a change.

The inspection continues. Further down his body, you finally notice it; the bulge beneath the towel strewn across his pelvis.

Oh my god, he isn’t. You think, lifting the side of the towel for a peek.

And oh my god, he is.

Rather frustratingly, just like the rest of him, Myers is pretty down here, too. Pretty and big. Which is not a compliment, you reassure yourself. Just a medical observation. You let yourself stare this time, because you’re not ashamed anymore. You’re not threatened by the notion of admiring Myers’ physiology anymore.

Not when he’s so completely at your mercy.

Somehow, Myers doesn’t seem to be the masochistic type, so you highly doubt that actual arousal is responsible for this. Sheer adrenaline coupled with his frantically pumping heart are probably to blame, his brain mixing and misinterpreting the signals, resulting in this little accident.

The longer you stare down at the “accident,” the more you find yourself wondering what Myers would look like fully-erect.

You cannot rip the electrodes off his chest fast enough. Plucking the towel from waist and discarding it on the floor, you stick the two nodes down flat against his obliques, then hurry to rig up a third. That one you plant just above his penis; as close to its base as the curly dark hair will allow.

You stand with your finger ready on the go-button again, opting to let Myers’ still-racing pulse dip out of the red before you pull the trigger and plunge him back into hell. Bloodied hands you can explain away, but cardiac arrest? Not so much.

The beeping slows. The green lines on the monitor settle. You throw the switch.

Myers’ pelvis bucks uncontrollably up from the table—

—and he grunts.

The sound makes your heart sing. It is muffled by the gag, low and reverberating, not very loud to begin with. Most definitely not on purpose; just a reaction that’s managed to slip through while his barriers are down.

Myers’ groin is still quivering when you cut the current off. His cock stands upright, stiff and swollen, totally erect. A line of saliva now dribbles down the side of his mouth, trickling between the gag, collecting in a shimmering mess on his shoulder. He blinks sluggishly up at the ceiling light as if transfixed; still dazed, you would guess.

Something twisted occurs to you as you drink in the scene. Something that you can’t deny.

Seeing Myers like this—fighting for his very consciousness, struggling to retain some sliver of control—is the single most arousing thing you have ever witnessed. You want nothing more in the entire world than to climb onto this dangerous, wounded man’s hips and claim him.

You want nothing more than to give him a taste of what true powerlessness feels like.

It’s a lovely fantasy, a beautiful temptation, and a real shame that it can’t happen. You don’t feel like getting knocked up with the child of your sister’s murderer today; or ever, for that matter. Instead, you think you’ll make a game out of guessing how many more shocks will have Myers coming on his own thighs.

Striding up to the head of the table again, you plant your arms on either side of his shoulders, leaning over him, hardly ten inches from his face.

“Looks painful Myers.” You jest. “How about I make you a deal?”

Michael looks up at you. Unfocused. Blinking slowly.

“I flip the switch,” you continue,

“—and I keep it flipped until you’re covered in your own semen, and after that I jam a needle in your arm, pump you full of drugs, and you get to live out your next eight hours as an unfeeling fucking vegetable. Fair?”

You wait for Myers to do something. For your words to register in his brain. For some flicker of a response to let you know that he’s even still in there.

To your immense disappointment, Myers does nothing. Absolutely nothing. He just...

...well, you can’t even call it staring anymore.

He doesn’t seem able to manage that sort of focus, you realize, inspecting his face closer. His eyes are alarmingly barren; there really isn’t much of anything there, now. None of the ruthlessness, none of that predatory awareness, none of the murder.

You’ve actually shocked the bastard totally, one-hundred-percent out of it.

Whoops.

Back at the roll-around, you snatch up a hand light. Returning to the table, you shine it in his eyes, assessing the damage. His functioning pupil is slow to dilate. Worryingly slow. You click the light off with a contemplative frown.

Half of your mind begs whatever force might be listening that this isn’t a passing affliction, that whatever damage that’s done is done. If the courts insist on keeping Myers alive, then maybe reducing his brains to soup is what it takes to keep him docile. To keep him from hurting another living thing ever again. You can only hope.

As much as you’d love to do so, electrocuting the living daylights out of him some more isn’t likely to bring Myers back to awareness; and the session is supposed to be over soon.

You glance at the clock on the wall—

—Shit. Very soon.

You need to find out right the fuck now if you’ve just rendered Dr. Ashton’s patient catatonic.

Walking around the side of the table, you take Myers’ swollen cock in your gloved hand—trying not to think about the fact that you’re jacking off a condemned murderer—and pump hard, stroking him all the way from the shaft to the swollen tip, squeezing the head, massaging your thumb over it, rubbing all the way back down again.

“Come on, asshole,” you spit. “That can’t be all the fight you’ve got.”

Myers’ hips jerk slightly up from the table as you touch him. Probably just an involuntary reaction. You’ll need him to do better than that. Stroking him faster, squeezing even harder, you pray that the friction of your latex glove against his cock feels just about as pleasant as a rug burn.

As you watch his vacant face like a hawk you see him begin to blink harder, his eyes squeezing shut, twitching beneath their lids, staying closed for a beat before opening up again, like he’s struggling to wake from a deep sleep. A much more deliberate motion; he’s coming back to it.

“Can you feel that? Hurts like a bitch, doesn’t it?”

He breathes hard around the gag. His knees lurch up from the table, the cuffs around his ankles straining, holding him in place.

You give his cock another hard squeeze.

“Forget where you are Myers?”

His jaw goes absolutely rigid with tension.

Ah. He heard you that time. He’s back.

How unfortunate that his brain isn’t fried after all.

You can see it all coming back now as his eyes flit down, locking on your face, rebooting within him like a program on a script; the chilling intensity, the sharpness, all the things that had made your skin crawl in the days past. Despite the torture, nothing at all about Myers’ demeanor has changed.

“Welcome back.” You state dryly. “We aren’t done yet.”

As if to make your blood boil on purpose—as if the battered state of his body means less to him than dirt, as if he hasn’t spent the better part of the hour being brutally, mercilessly tortured by you—

—Myers just watches you. Damning you with his eyes alone to the same grisly demise as before.

An odd sense of something, not quite admiration, sparks in your gut. Looking into Myers’ eyes, there is one single thing that you are willing to give this monster credit for:

What sits before you is a creature that cannot be broken. One that will never be dissuaded from its primal, violent nature. To try it is an impossible task. You suspect that you could stand in this room for days, flipping the same switch, delivering the same current, knocking him to and from consciousness, and into all the states in-between.

And the result would never change. Not ever.

He’d still be looking at you with that same deadly stare. A stare as cold and sharp as the blade of a carving knife.

And it would only get more piercing.

And what a relief it is that your goal in the first place was never to break Myers,

just to bring the gates of hell down on his pretty, curly head.

And you have. You can hear it in every breath he takes; he’s struggling. Although he draws his inhales slowly, with mechanical control, the ragged wheezing in his chest is no longer possible for him to hide. Myers is hurting—he’s hurting bad.

As much as you would love to stay and twist the knife in even deeper, it's time to wrap things up. You’re all out of time.

Pulling the electrodes from his groin and thighs with one hand, you let two of the nodes dangle freely off the side of the table.

The third you stick against his cock.

“Count your lucky fucking stars that not everyone in the world is as heartless as you are.” You tell him, walking back around to the E.S.T machine.

Myers follows you with eyes the entire way, stone-faced, impassive. Like the fact that you’ve just fastened a live wire to his dick is about as boring to him as watching paint dry.

Flick goes the switch.

His back arches off the table like a bent bow. He scrunches his eyes shut, breathing hard around the gag, tugging furiously at the cuffs, the muscles in his calves and biceps straining dangerously, pulling upwards with a brutish force that has table whining beneath him.

You’re transfixed as Michael comes. His mess shoots out in thick ropes, reaching further than you thought possible, coating the table, getting on his legs. The sheer power of his body is a stunning thing to witness. You keep the current running to milk him down to the very last drop.

When he stops coming, you power off the machine.

The node comes away from Michael’s skin in a “pop” that is all-too satisfying. Bundling all the wires and electrodes back into place on the machine you listen to the only measurable signs of the man’s distress; the tortured intake of his breaths, the elevated beeping of his heart monitor.

Then, picking up the needle from the little white tray, you cross back to Myers’ side.

The vein in his forearm is thick and pronounced and the needle slips in beautifully. You press slowly down on the plunger, grateful when he doesn’t try to yank his arm away, relieved when he accepts the drug without a struggle. He must be exhausted.

The sedative works its magic quickly. You pull up a stool and sit down beside him to watch.

The vitriol in his eyes begins to melt and soften. One by one his strained muscles are allowed to relax again, the tension ebbing away; from his jaw, his shoulders, his abdomen, his legs. The electronic beeping on the monitor slows and slows until its powerful rhythm beats steadily again.

Evidently, Michael has decided he isn’t ready to go under just yet. Though sleep pools in his eyelids he blinks it away, clinging in a death grip to his consciousness.

Just to leer at you. Just to picture in his mind the day he will have his hands around your throat; as if it is already set in stone. As if it is just a matter of when.

Then, Michael’s eyelids flutter—

—fighting to stay open, still staring—

—closing, for just a beat too long—

—lingering shut—

—staying shut.

You move to clean him up quickly. The gag comes out first. Lifting his head to unbuckle the strap, you tug out the black ball, letting his strained jaw fall shut again for the first time in an hour; then carelessly drop his head. It thunks satisfyingly as it comes down hard against the table. Glancing at the gag’s silicone, you notice the deep markings worn into it, perfect impressions of Myers’ top and bottom teeth. You almost shudder; a bite from him would have been nasty.

You blot away the drool dribbling down his chin and shoulder with a rag, and then move on.

The last thing you expect as you begin to clean Michael’s bloodied hands is the tears that spring to your eyes. Even with your fear of the man gone and buried, you wish that you didn’t have to touch these awful hands; let alone treat them, bandage them, heal them.

You wipe away the tears on your sleeve as you gather your supplies together on the roll-around.

Grabbing each of his wrists just above the restraint cuffs and turning them so that his palm is facing upward on the table, you hastily swab him down with alcohol pads, wiping up the clotting blood from his skin, squeezing out a blob of antiseptic from a tube to smear across his cuts. As you wrap Michael’s palms tightly in gauze you try your hardest to snuff out that invasive thought when it comes searing like a bullet through your skull—

—these are the hands that killed my sister.

You simply can’t afford to linger on those thoughts right now. Maybe when you’re at home tonight, alone in your bed, you will let yourself cry; but not now. Not while you still need to clean up after Myers’ unfortunate mishap.

Toweling him down from his forehead to his calves, you soak away the sweat. And the semen. Then, you fasten back up the front of his hospital gown, knotting each and every tie.

And just like that, the job is done.

You knock on the door. The guards come in and wheel Myers’ unconscious body out of the room.

The next day, you have a debriefing session with Dr. Ashton. You feed him your meticulously rehearsed lie: that the therapy went without a hiccup, that you firmly believe this treatment could be the key to alleviating Michael’s tendencies for violence.

The moron laps up your every word.

Ashton ends the session with a delightful little surprise; he’s pulled some strings to allow for Michael’s therapy to be carried out bi-weekly. He is so impressed by your drive to treat his patient that he’s offering you a position as Michael’s secondary caretaker. He only hopes that you’ll accept.

The smile you give him is bright and sincere, one that beams from ear to ear.

“Doctor, believe me when I say that nothing in the world would make me happier.”

#Michael Myers #Halloween #Slashers #michael myers x reader #writing

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ilikeoneshots · 5 years ago

Text

Keep Moving - Bakugou Katsuki

I had thirty minutes left on my patrol shift so I started making my way back to my agency. I hadn’t been feeling too hot the last couple days and I was completely exhausted.

I was about two block away from the agency when I heard the explosions behind me. I quickly turned and saw smoke billowing into the sky from the business district. I quickly launched myself into the sky and made my way toward the havoc.

“(H/N) in business district. Three unknown assailants caused an explosion of some kind. I don’t see any injured civies,” I call into my radio.

“Copy, (H/N). We’re sending someone in to cover you,” dispatch responded. I nodded to myself before descending upon the villains.

I dropped soundlessly behind one and rendered them unconscious with a rudimentary sleeper hold. As the man collapsed, the other two took notice of me.

“What the fuck, dude?! You didn’t say this bitch would be around!” One said to the other.

“Yeah, well, how the fuck was I supposed to know?! Just take the bitch out!” The other man exclaimed.

“If you boys are done with this little show, we can do this one of two ways. One, you give up on this sad excuse of a robbery and come away quietly without any injuries. Two, I kick your asses and make a pit stop to the emergency room before going to jail. Which will it be?” I asked, boredom lacing my voice.

“Fuck you, you stupid bitch! You think you can take both of us?!” The first man screamed at me.

“Option two it is then,” I sigh before using my speed to appear behind him. He could barely turn to look at me before I kicked him into the wall they blew up moments ago. He groaned from his place on the ground. I turned toward the other man, “Would you like to reconsider?”

He snarled at me before using his quirk to shoot something at me. Did this dude have bullets coming out of his fingertips?!?

I dodged quickly and flipped over his head and landed behind him, catching him in a sleeper hold like the third member of their party. He flailed around, sending shots around wildly from his hands before he slumped into the hold. I restrained him quickly and went to make my way to the man I had kicked when I noticed he was gone.

“Dammit!” I groaned. It wasn’t more than a minute later that the police showed up to cart the two men away, “I’m sorry sir, the third man ran off. I’ll see if I can locate him quickly,” I said to the supervising officer.

I was about to go for the sky when I heard my name being called, I look around and see a familiar head of blonde hair and sharp red eyes. I smile and wave, my smile quickly turning into a look of confusion when I saw him blasting off full speed toward me and screaming something. I couldn’t figure out what he was screaming due to his explosions. I went to look behind me when I felt something sharp hit my side.

It felt like everything was going in slow motion. I look down and see the abdomen of my suit growing redder. I look back up and see the man from earlier holding an insanely long knife in his hand. He had a crazed look in his eyes. He was quickly tackled to the ground. I stumbled a bit before feeling arms wrap around me.

“(Y/N)! Hey, hey, hey. Look at me,” his voice sounded weird. I try to focus my eyes on him.

“Katsu? Did he just fucking stab me?” I groan.

“Shut up, stupid woman! We have to get you to the hospital!” He’s yelling, fear evident in his voice. He picks me up and I groan in pain once more.

“What a dick... who just stabs someone like that?” My voice comes out in a mumble. Katsuki isn’t paying my ramblings any mind as he runs me to the nearest hospital.

My mind is going in and out of consciousness as they place me on the gurney. I look over in one last moment of lucidity and see Katsuki with tears running down his cheeks and then I’m out.

I don’t know how long I’m out for but when I come to I instantly want to go back to sleep. The bright fluorescent lights make my head pound and I groan at the feeling. I feel something grab my hand and I force my eyes open again. The image of my husband comes into view.

“(Y/N)? Can you hear me?” I nod and motion to my throat, “Oh water! Hold on,” Katsuki leaves for a moment only to reappear moments later with a glass. I down in in seconds.

“Oh my God, that’s so much better,” I sigh.

“How do you feel?” He asks me in an uncharacteristically soft tone.

“Like I got stabbed with a machete,” I humorlessly laugh, “Okay, fill me in on what happened after they took me back?” I grunt as I try to sit up. Katsuki quickly helps me adjust before holding my hand in his vice-like grip again.

“Babe... something.. let me go get the doctor,” Katsuki said before leaving the room. I’m so confused, he’s not acting normally... I didn’t have time to ponder his odd behavior because he returned just as quickly has he left, doctor in tow.

“Morning, Mrs Bakugou. I’m Doctor Lin, I did your surgery last night,” The woman stated as she sat in the seat across from my bed, “A couple things happened while you were in surgery. Nothing life threatening but it is serious.”

I sit in silence as I listen to the woman drone on and on about what happened. She explains my wound, my blood loss, how I was lucky the blade didn’t actually hit any internal organs, but what really got me was a question.

“Ma’am, did you know you were pregnant?” I blinked at her a few times.

“What do you mean?” What did she just ask me??

“Oh, dear... I’m so sorry,” she stammered for a moment as she looked at the clipboard in her hands, “You were twelve weeks pregnant, Ma’am. I regret to inform you, but due to the blood loss, shock along with anesthesia and the surgery the fetus did not make it.”

I numbly look to Katsuki, he’s just staring at the doctor in front of us.

“I’ll give you two a moment,” she says before leaving the room. Katsuki is still frozen, staring at the seat the woman was just occupying.

“K-Katsu?” I whisper and he jumped back into reality and is holding me close to his chest, “I d-didn’t know! If only I had known! How did I not realize?!” I cry into his shirt. He’s rocking me back and forth, careful not to hurt my stitches.

“It isn’t your fault, you were doing your job. If I had gotten to you sooner, I could have kept that guy from getting away,” he’s mad at himself now... I pull away and place my hands on either side of his face, making his look at me.

“If I can’t blame myself, you can’t blame yourself,” I wipe the tears from his cheeks and he does the same for me. He kisses me softly as I sniffle.

“I’m sorry, you’re right,” he holds me close again, “I haven’t even really thought about wanting a kid, but hearing that we could have and now their gone...” I nod against his shoulder.

“I know what you mean...”

Two days later, I was discharged. The doctor informed me that I shouldn’t be surprised at any heavy bleeding and eventually I will ‘pass’ the baby. My anxiety levels were at an all time high, the thought of having to ‘pass’ my baby overwhelming.

I called my boss and informed her of my situation, we’re pretty close, and she gave me four weeks off. Enough time for the physical side of my miscarriage to end.

“Katsuki.. I know you don’t want to talk about this but...” I stop myself. I can’t bring myself to ask this, but I know I have to, “W-When it happens-“

“We’re going to bury it,” he says softly, he can read me like a book. He knows how hard this is on me, it’s hard on him too, “We can bury it underneath the cherry blossom tree in the backyard.” I nod silently.

“Do you think it would have been a boy or a girl?” I ask after we arrived home and settled on the couch, just wanting to hold each other.

“Not sure, why?” He hummed as he rubbed my shoulders

“I want to give them a name...” I say, fiddling with the end of my shirt.

He was quiet for a while and I assumed I went to far with the morbidity of the situation. I was about to say ‘forget it’ when Katsuki started to speak again.

“I’d like to think it would have been a girl. She would have had my eye color but your eye shape,” he smiled to himself as he imagined what our baby would have looked like, “I’d want her to have your hair texture and color too.”

“So you’d only want her to have your eyes?” I asked.

“I’d be perfectly happy with that,” he smiled down at me.

“I’d want her to have your smile,” I say as I turn slightly to give him a kiss.

“Sappy woman,” he grinned.

“Did you forget what all you just said?” He chuckled and playfully flicked my forehead.

“That’s besides the point, what name would you give her?” I hum as I think about it.

“We could call her Sakura, because of the cherry blossom tree,” I offer the idea.

“I do like that name, but are you sure you want to name her after the tree?”

“I know it’s not very original...” I mumble as I rest my head against his chest.

“No, I like it. We can call her Sakura,” he kisses my hair. I nod. We fall into a comfortable silence, every now and then I tense when I feel a cramp.

“I wish the other day had been different... if it had only happened an hour later... I would have been home and then we would have been able to meet Sakura in a few more months,” I say as the tears start flowing again. Katsuki rubs my back and shushes me softly.

“We can’t think about ‘what if’s. What happened, happened for a reason. It may not make any sense right now, but we can’t change it even if we wanted to. So now, we have to keep going forward and in the future if you want to we can try again,” his voice calms me.

“I love you, Katsu. I’m glad you’re with me. But, if I’m being honest, hearing you say such soft things is odd,” I admit. He scoffs at me.

“I’m not soft, I just love you,” he gently moves me as he gets off the couch, “You keep resting, I’m going to start dinner.”

It’s been almost a year since we lost Sakura. If I’m being honest, I still get sad about it. I think Katsuki does too. But like Katsuki said, we can’t change the past so we have to keep moving forward. Which is what we’ve managed to do.

“Mrs Bakugou? Are you there?” The voice called out through the phone I had dropped. I scrambled to pick the device back up.

“Y-Yes! I’m here! I’m sorry, can you repeat that?” My heart feels like it’s going to beat out of my chest.

“I said, the results came back. You’re pregnant.”

#bakugou katsuki x pregnant reader #bakugou katsuki x reader #bnha x reader #bnha #mha x reader #mha

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courtorderedcake · 4 years ago

Text

Procrastination: An Apology - Apothecary Shoppe Smut (REPOST)

I did a bad thing.

Instead of writing my piece for @cssns that I was supposed to have done a week ago, I present to you this, as an apology. Sorry. Kind of. Maybe. Not really.

Rate E for Enticing. And Explicit. It’s fucking, because I’m not fucking doing what I need to be.

I’ll finish my shit eventually.

NSFW art available via Pillowfort, this was uploaded in 2018 before but Tumblr flagged it.

Working in an apothecary has its perks when it comes to magic. For Killian Jones, one of those perks happens to be the beautiful customer that seems to always be buying one thing or another.

Killian idly passed time sorting books as Belle had taught him, waiting for the clock to inevitably bring closing time. His job at the Chipped Cauldron was interesting, the place was small and quiet with only a few patrons at a time. As a discharged and dishonored warlock it was perfect work to avoid any questioning eyes, people unsurprised that a potion maker’s arm ended in a gnarled stump.

Today had been quiet, too quiet as far as he was concerned. He’d done everything that could be done twice, now back to his third time sorting books. He wanted to go home. It wasn’t even that he had plans other than to go to his flat and drink, but he was having an off day.

She hadn’t come in today.

For the last 4 months or so, one Emma Swan (per her scratched signature), had been coming in twice a week to pick up various supplies, and he had found himself enjoying their talks.

(And, well, her voice, the way her eyes lit up when she spoke about the historical constructs behind why there were so little female potion’s masters and how certain ingredients smelled so much better fresh but she would have to make do, or how breathtaking her shoulders looked when she took that red jacket off. He wanted to bite one just to see the mark against that pale skin -)

No. He frowned deeper, eyebrows furrowed. If this wasn’t his place of work that his friend Belle had painstakingly gotten him, he would pursue her aggressively like he had in bars for a quick fuck… But no, actually he wouldn’t. She seemed the type that liked gentleman, black glasses pushed up her nose again and again, simple ponytail, cardigan over a summer dress or skirt and blouse. Surprising even himself, he realized he’d court her if she showed any interest in him outside of his fantasies.

She didn’t. She dutifully came in and drove him insane.

“Hey, herb guy!” She’d yelled at him the first time he saw her, immediately irritating him. He stomped over to the aisle she’d called from ready to give her a good shushing, until he looked up to see an angel perched precariously on a ladder reaching for a jar of gargoyle tears. “A little help? I think I broke your ladder.”

“Oh.” he said, and regretted how absolutely stupid he sounded. “Ah, yes, here. Let’s get you down and I’ll get it for you.” He extended his good hand towards her, and she took it, stumbling down the wobbling ladder. When she stood next to him she’d looked up at him with kind eyes, and he forgot any reason to be mad at anything.

“Thank you. It’s an ingredient Belle recommended for a spell I found in old book of Scandinavian curses. They’re heavier than I thought it would be.” She pointed to the jar, it’s tear shaped stones glittering. He climbed and grabbed it, carefully balancing on the wobbly ladder before jumping the last few steps and handing it to her.

“Here you are. If you need anything else…” He scratched behind his ear, and nodded to his desk area. She smiled at him, and as he turned grabbed his arm.

“Really though, thank you. Killian, right? Belle told me about you and I appreciate it.” She turned and walked down the aisle, picking up a large pile of books she had collected and placing them in a basket with various ingredients. When she was out of sight, he groaned quietly. Belle talking to people, or warning people he should say, about his irritability was a great end to his and Swan’s meeting.

(She probably bloody well knew him as the moody, brooding Warlock that occasionally set off a stinging nettle spell to get the odd wanker back out of the shop and on his way, if he was in such a foul temper)

When she began coming in every other day for this or that, he found himself excited to see her. He subconsciously dressed a bit nicer, read books that might pique her interest to talk to him, and on braver days he’d write up signs with potions that could be made with her favorite ingredients, hoping she would strike up conversation. She never noticed him really, a quick hello and then endless torture as she perused or read in their small lounge area.

Swan also had a habit of needing ingredients she couldn’t reach, a talent that he was torn about. On one hand, when he went over to grab her chosen goods, her warm body was so close to his that he could smell her hair or perfume.

(He was close enough to kiss her neck, or run his tongue down her spine listening to her moan -)

And that, was the other hand. She showed no interest in him, and her sweet demeanor made him feel guilty everytime those jade eyes looked up at him when she apologized for bumping him. That had almost killed him: as he reached for a container of mandrake leaves, some had slipped out and she made to grab them. As she moved up, her beautiful ass had ground against him and he resisted every urge to rut up against her.

“I’m so sorry, but I’m glad we saved these! They’re so valuable, I’d hate to waste any.” She’d smiled at him and he’d quietly adjusted himself at his desk. Lately she’d been winding down the reading and talking to him more, inviting him over to her table to quiz her on her technique or to recommend spell books for practice. He’d helped her edit recipes and directions, hovering over her shoulder while his body begged an end to its needy fantasies.

(Her mouth in that perfect, pretty shape when she says his name, and he’s buried deep, hot and hard in her warmth -)

She wasn’t here today though, and closing was in 30 minutes. No point for any type of special signs or added charms to brighten the place. He began to lock up, unsure why her absence made him so damn irritable. The door chime went off and his ears perked up.

“We close in twenty minutes, so please if you’re getting something make it qui - “

Swan came down the aisle towards him, and he felt his heart leap. She was wearing a pink dress that made her practically glow, and he was very aware in this moment that it was only them in the building at the present. His mouth felt dry spying a dangerous gleam in her eyes.

“I need to get another book, can you help me? I just went on the most awful blind date, and immediately came here because the ridiculously hot herb guy that has been ignoring my flirting would be better company. I just thought, if I’m thinking about him on dates with other men, than he should know. Bluntly. Because you’re oblivious. Is there a spell, potion, or book that could help me with that?” she rambled and he felt his heart beating in his ears.

“It’s not that simple, Swan, I think you’re wonderful but I’m -”

“Emma. Call me Emma, Killian. Belle told me. Luckily for you, I like broody, ill-tempered, swaggering men who will only make eyes from me across the room.” she smirked deviously, and the heat that swept through him made his skin tingle.

“I suppose you can’t read a book by it’s cover, you came in here with this… Soft and cutesy attire, besides that red jacket of yours, everything you wore was so - “

She groaned and slid a hand over her face. “I know, that explains so much. My apartment had a pipe explode and everything in my bedroom was ruined. I’ve been staying with my roommate and borrowing her clothing. She dresses like the grandmother of a Disney princess, but it works for her, just not me… However, even if I did dress like this,” she took a step forward with a grin. “I’d prefer someone who could take control.” He groaned quietly, as she pressed herself against him.

“Let me lock up. Stay here.” he rushed to the door, locking it and flipping the sign with a wave. Placing the enchantments on the building, and turning off the front lights, he practically ran back to her.

“There, no interruptions.” He looked her dead in the eyes, then pressed his lips to hers. They started slow, and then he began kissing her hungrily, as she grabbed at his shirt to pull him closer. Her mouth on his felt amazing, it felt right, her tongue and his exploring each others lips.

He pulled away breathless for a moment. “Emma, this… I want this, but it’s your last chance to back out if you want to. This can be a one time thing, if you want.” His voice was hoarse as he searched her face. “If you stay though, I’m going to do everything to you that I’ve thought about since you came in here that first day. I’m going to fuck you senseless, do you understand?”

She panted into him, and nodded. “Yes, please.” she whispered and every synapse in is body lit.

“Oh thank every star, I’ve waited entirely too long for this.” He crashed his mouth against hers, pushing her against a shelf, immediately hiking up her dress to find her clit. “God’s above you fucking siren.” She wasn’t wearing any knickers, her wetness already leaking between her thighs under the dim lights. He stroked a finger into her, listening to her moan while he circled his thumb on her clit. “That day you ground against me? If I had known, I would have pulled you into a closet and grabbed your ass with both hands, pulled you against me so you could feel how hard I was.” he took her hand and pressed it against his pants, rubbing his cock through the fabric as he added another finger to her wetness.

Withdrawing his hand as she protested, he licked his fingers. “You’re delicious. I think I’ll have more than a taste. He knelt as her eyes went wide, letting him pull on of her legs over his shoulder.

Killian’s first slow lick had her eyes closing, and mouth keening out a cry of pleasure. He smirked. This would be easy. He felt like a man starved, slurping and gently nipping when she bucked her hips up into his face, desperate for him to stop torturing her. When her hips shook and he felt the beginning flutters of orgasm, Killian pulled away, watching her chest rise and fall with her panting breaths.

“No. You made me wait, made me sit there with my cock hard imagining ways to fuck you until you couldn’t walk. You’ll wait.”

Pulling her by the arm, he pushed her against a table, bent over as he pushed her skirt up again. Removing his belt and releasing himself from his trousers, he stroked himself a few times before sliding slow between her folds coating himself.

“I love the feel of how wet you are, Emma. And, I love the feel of your arse, Gods you are beautiful. I need to bury myself in you, and I think you’d like that, hm?” He gave her ass a smack and she moaned, wriggling slightly. “Here’s the catch love: I don’t care how good it feels, and it will - Do not come on my cock. If you do, I will leave you with quite the reminder when you can’t sit tomorrow.” he chuckled darkly, before hissing and whispering a spell for protection.

“There we are love,” He nudged himself into position, his stump against her thigh and palm pressed to the small of her back. He slid into her with one hard thrust, sinking with a deep groan as she moaned. He set a fast pace, relishing in how good she felt around him.

“You’re so fucking tight, your quim feels like magic, fuck, Emma -”

He pistoned his hips, fucking her hard against the table as it rocked slightly. Emma’s moans drove him insane, his body bucking at different angles to illicit keening cries.

“Please, please don’t stop! Ah, Killian, that’s so good!” Her body tensed, and he let out a groan as she came on his cock, shuddering and screaming his name. She panted, and he continued languid movements as she came down from her high. Sliding his body over hers, while kissing her neck, he bit down hard on her shoulder and she cried out with a buck of her hips.

“I told you not to come.” Killian murmured, licking the mark. Pulling away from Emma and out of her heat, he smacked her ass hard, and she whimpered as she tried to press against his hips. He continued hard smacks until he was satisfied, running his nails over the reddened skin. “Turn over, love, and on your knees. That’s a good, lass.”

Killian presented himself to her, and Emma took him in her mouth, swallowing him to his base. His eyes rolled back into his head, as he felt her hands lightly press on his thighs, her tongue swirling as he tried not to ram himself down her throat.

Spreading his legs further apart, he wrapped his fingers in her hair as she bobbed on his length. His breath came in harsh pants as she hollowed her cheeks, his release close.

Pulling her back as her mouth made a satisfying pop around his cock, he pulled her up to claim her mouth with his. He placed her back on the table, thrusting into her heat in one precise move that made her moan his name. Her nails clawed at his back while he ground his hips, her walls spasming as he lost himself in a few final thrusts. They panted, his chest pressed against hers as they came down. After a moment he pulled away, a quick wave of her hand and a few pieces of parchment became a set of warm wet rags. He cleaned himself, the rag incerating with a snap of his fingers. While they were still warm from the flame, he traced the line of her collarbone stepping back between her legs while she pulled down her crumpled dress.

“That was…” Emma whispered. “As I said, it can be a one time thing, if you like.” He pushed a stray lock of her hair behind her ear. He held his breath, trying not to hope.

“That’s probably smart.” Her eyes were downcast, and she chewed her lip.

“Aye.” Killian sighed, stepping back. “I understand, I’ll see you out.”

“This shop has the best selection and the most knowledgeable sorcerer I’ve met, though. Having access to him after hours might be a perk I’m willing to live with, if occasional dinners were involved.” Her voice was light, and he turned, the small smile on her face lighting her eyes like emerald witch-fire under a cauldron.

“Warlock, darling. A devilishly handsome Warlock.” He smirked, striding forward and capturing her lips in a kiss that left them breathless. “As for dinner, there’s a diner down the street that’s open late. If you don’t have plans, that is.”

“I do now.”

#Courtorderedcake #8th #August #2020 #August 8th 2020 #Smut #cssns #CS AU #CS FF #captain swan fanfiction #Captain swan #captain swan au #cs cocktoberfest #Originally posted a while ago #but Tumblr fuckin sucks

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shizuzuzuku · 5 years ago

Note

Is the request open for the Bey! Characters? If so, could you make a scenario where the Bey! Characters with their s/o attend a wedding together to see s/o's cousin getting married? Thnx!

I HAVE RETURNED~!

Kaname

“Kaname we’re gonna be late!” You hassled your titan of a boyfriend.

“But i’m practically ready!” He chimes back shirtless, with a mouth full of toothpaste.

Today was the wedding of one of your most favorite cousins. The two of you had grown up together and were practically sisters. The simple thought of how beautiful she would look brought tears to your eyes. Which only made you more antsy out of fear of being late.

“Kaname~” You whined.

“There! Ready!” He exclaimed fully tuxedo clad. The sight of him in formal wear never failed to excite you.

“Not bad.” You said before pecking his lips.

The two of you made the wedding with minutes to spare to your relief. Your cousin looked even more beautiful than your imagination could muster. Before you knew it tears steamed down your face which flustered you only for a second before Kaname produced a handkerchief from his pocket. Pulling you close, he kissed the top of your head to help you gather yourself. Even after the bride made it up the alter your tears continued. Kaname started to get the feeling that you weren’t being moved by the bride’s wedding dress anymore.

“Y/n! I’m married!” Cried your cousin, the bride.

“You’re so beautiful! There can’t be a more perfect dress for you.”

After more hugging and mutual complimenting, your cousin finally asked the question on her and your own mind subconsciously.

“So when’s you and Kaname’s turn?” She teased. You blushed.

“I-! W-we’re not there yet! Come on don’t tease me�� you laughed. Your cousin giggled at her antics as she waved at Kaname pushing her bouquet into your arms as you blushed excessively trying to stop her. You and Kaname returned home much later after an exhausting night of dancing and fun.

“I’m so tired! How’re you holding up babe?” you asked as you sat on your shared bed to remove your uncomfortable heels. Silence.

“Kaname?” you looked up. His eyes met yours but your eyes met something else. Kaname rested on one knee before you, with a small box, housing a beautiful diamond ring.

“I love you more than anything. Please be my wife.” Immediately tears formed in your eyes.

“Of course I will, you idiot.”

Kiyoharu

“How does my hair look?” you said looking towards your boyfriend.

“Beautiful. You might upstage the bride, careful”, he said with a slight smirk. You blush and giggle at his comment.

“Quit joking around and let’s get going.” You began to walk away, heading out of room, but Kiyoharu swiftly grabbed your forearm, pulling you into him.

“Not so fast.” You get a bit flustered by this.

“You’re gonna make us late."

"Not if you stop talking.” With that you stopped talking and pulled his face to yours, initiating a kiss. Kissing Kiyoharu was always a task that required your full attention as every movement and bite was too good to not treasure. He broke the kiss off after a few moments and carried on like nothing happened.

“Now we can go.” You playfully slapped his arm for making you feel so much and acting like he felt so little. The wedding was one of the most beautiful things you’d ever seen. But you weren’t sure if that was just because you had dreamt of your wedding since you were little and you had finally found someone who you could truly imagine it with. Your thoughts were only confirmed when you looked over at Kiyoharu during your cousin’s vows, and he simply kissed the top of your head whilst holding you close. At the reception, you danced with your cousin, a now married woman.

“So how does it feel? Is it all flowers and cupcakes like they say?” you joked. Your cousin laughed at your joke, “I don’t really feel different at all, honestly. I think its because once you’re in love with someone, whenever you’re with them it feels like you’ve been married for years."

"Huh… that’s kind of how I feel about Kiyoharu sometimes."

Your cousin looks around to make sure no one else is listening to your conversation and bashfully asks, "So when do you think he’s gonna pop the question?” You immediately blush at her bluntness. “I-I…!"

"Don’t act like you guys haven’t been together forever!” “I have no idea when or even if he’s going to propose.”

“Of course he’s going to propose. Anyone can see that guy would move heaven and hell for you.” You brush her off frantically.

“Come on! It’s your day! It’s supposed to be about you!"

"Alright, but you’re not getting off that easily! Come on let’s take shots!” She sashays over to the conveniently planned open bar, dragging you along.

The night flew by as most best ones do, and you and Kiyoharu finally made it home in one piece.

You giggled trying to take off your heels but failing.

“Why do they make these things so hard to take off?! These… um… what are they called again?"

Kiyoharu pinched your cheek as he knelt down to help you. "Shoes?"

"YES! Shoess!” You laughed. Kiyoharu made a mental note not to let you go drinking with your cousin without supervision.

“Kiyoharu! Kiyoharu!” You chirped.

“Yes milady.” He responded tossing your shoes in the direction of your shared closet.

“Look at how you’re kneeling, it’s like…"

"It’s like what?"

"It’s like you’re proposing.” You giggle.

“Really now? And if I was… what would you say?"

You gasp excitedly, bouncing up and down. "I’d say yes, of course! Ask me! Ask me!"

"Nope not yet.” He says standing up.

“Ehhhh?! Come on! Ask me! Please, please, please!" You whine jumping onto his back. Not at all phased he says,

"When you’re sober."

"Aw… hey Kiyoharu?"

"Yes."

"Carry me to bed.” You slur sleepily.

He chuckles. “I can’t wait to marry you."

"What?"

"Nothing."

"Kiyoharu! No fair!"

Gaju

"Wait how do we know these people again?” You’re boyfriend protests.

“The bride is my cousin, remember?” You chuckle. You and Gaju had just arrived at your cousin’s wedding in which you were a bridesmaid. You glided up a flight of stairs as Gaju held the bulk of your dress so you could walk. You were on your way to the bridal parlor where you would help your cousin get ready.

“Are you gonna be okay finding a seat on your own?"

"Yeah, I’m not a baby."

"Didn’t you ask me to lay out your tuxthis morning?"

"Hey! My hands were dirty!” You laugh, giving him a quick kiss on the cheek. “Just sit somewhere where I can see you, please. Being in front of so many people kinda makes me nervous.” “Don’t worry, babe, I’ll be there. Plus I wanna have a full view of that ass going down the aisle.” He smirks as he gives your butt a quick pinch as you smack his hand away.

Moments before the start of the wedding, Gaju managed to seize an aisle seat around the middle of the audience, giving him a perfect view. A few minutes went by and the procession still hadn’t begun, causing many attendants to wonder what was going on. By chance, Gaju decides to look back at where the wedding party was meant to begin their walk down the aisle and he meets your panicked eyes.

Instinctively, he goes full protective mode, standing and rushing up the aisle to meet you. As soon as he gets to you, he grabs your hands pulling you away from the crowd of bridesmaids and groomsmen, who didn’t seem to notice him, as they all seemed to be in a hushed uproar.

“Hey, what’s wrong?! Do I need to kick someone’s ass?!” Nearly in tears, you begin rambling without taking a breath. “One of the groomsmen just had an emergency and left- no, let me rephrase that. The groomsman that I was supposed to walk down the aisle with had an emergency and left and now I don’t have anyone to walk down the aisle with and even though I can’t do anything about it, I feel terrible because it’s my cousin’s wedding for Pete’s sake and everything is just a disaster."

Keeping up with that sentence required skill that Gaju did not possess so all he could do was grab you and pull you into his arms. "Come on. It’ll be okay. You look absolutely beautiful today so don’t cry!” Gaju continued to console you until one of the bridesmaids, caught a glance of him and had to take a double take. “Hey who’s that guy with (y/n)?” She whispered to another bridesmaid. “I don’t know but he’s insanely hot. I wish he was a groomsmen.” The second she said this, they both immediately gasped and rushed over to the two of you.

“Me?! A groomsmen?!” Gaju exclaimed earning him a series of shushes. At first the idea seemed crazy to you too, but after thinking about it, it was the perfect solution. “Oh please Gaju, you’ll fit right in with that tux and I can’t walk by myself like this.” You plead with him.

He sighs reluctantly. “Only for you.” He says before kissing your forehead which seemed to literally take the weight off of your shoulders.

A few moments passed and before you knew it the procession had begun and it was you and Gaju’s turn. His experience dancing gave him the perfect posture and rhythm for your walk up the aisle making him look better than the groomsmen who had actually rehearsed. Even though this day wasn’t about the two of you, you couldn’t help but savour the feeling of walking up the aisle with all eyes on you and your lover. The entire feeling made you emotional you couldn’t keep a tear from falling. Unable to comfort you while walking, Gaju simply whispers, while keeping his head perfectly upright and forward, “This is what our day is gonna be like."

You squeeze his arm in response. "I love you.”

#ballroom e youkoso #welcome to the ballroom #welcome to the ballroom imagines #ballroom e youkoso headcannons #sengoku kaname #hyoudou kiyoharu #kiyoharu hyoudou #Akagi Gaju #gaju akagi

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euphoricpixi3 · 6 years ago

Text

Taste of Menace |7| ot7!mafia au

— Masterlist in my bio

— Pairings | this chapter | Jimin x reader ; slight Namjoon x reader

— Through the story | reader x others as the story progresses

— Warning | this story contain smoking, swearing, tattoos, drinking, blood and drugs, smut. This is a mafia!au!yandere

— Summary | Your first time watching the underground fight took a completely wrong turn, why were you the only one laying lifeless on the cold ground when you weren’t even fighting?

It’s funny how brain is considered the main organ of the system, yet it crashes and leaves you hanging with nothing. Brain acts as a software and once it crash, our minds spirals down into a darkness void of any light. Then it screams, the error pops up with words that you can’t seem to understand with mouse clicks you try to turn it off but it does nothing as the same error keeps appearing.

“Please fix the bug in your software.”

You call technician to ask for help and he fixes the software, he disjoins the computer into pieces and without those parts is useless, just a screen and fragile parts.

For that, people are given magic pills to make them moving until the next crash.

Your brain crashed as Namjoon looked your way, both of his lips corners turned upwards.

“W-what do you mean? You asked and I answered” you flicked a tiny dust off your shoulder and scrunched up your eyebrows. Why did it always feel like they knew so much more than you. It’s like they had your whole life story displayed to them.

“I asked, but you didn’t say the truth” Namjoon firmly stated as he sat down to his chair.

You chuckled glancing at Jimin who looked at you with pleading eyes to tell the truth and not play games with Namjoon because he knew, there wouldn’t be much he could do to stop him.

“Everyone lies” you said, your attention back to Namjoon who just started to smile more as if you had walked in your own trap.

“Life is cruel, little one, but you just had admitted that you are a liar”.

Your eyes wandered back and forth between the three guys, wondering what kind of connection they had with each other.

Did one wake up at 3 am just to listen to other’s talk?

Did one say that he is proud of the other?

Did one put on a fight just to help the other?

You knew that Eve was a very philosophical person, she would give the words that dripped off her tongue like honey, sometimes her words would feel like broken bones from falling forty feet down, but she had always managed to paint a pretty picture that would heal every part of your broken self.

Both of you sat at one of the houses roofs. The city in front of you dreading with insomnia and shuffles of empty footsteps and shallow stares.

“Hey Eve, I know that sometimes it seems like I don’t appreciate your words, but I really do. For these past few months I have fallen down without a wish to stand back up, but now I know that I can always count on you, thank you for guiding me and helping to through another day”

You smiled quickly looking back to the view in front of you. You were never good with words, you were never good with telling how you feel, but with her that was okay because she understood you.

A smile tickled her lips before she playfully hit your shoulder “Don’t get all soft on me now, we still have to kick the world’s ass”

Eve had told you herself, that memories were like a piece of something made out of shattered glass, the more you cling to it, the deeper it will cut. And the pain will only sear through your skin and will take away every every feeling of safety you had.

Then why did she have to lie? You ask yourself. Why did she have to be the cause of the sharp pain that cuts you everytime you think about it.

You pulled your knees to your chest and wrapped your arms around your shins. If it weren’t for the tense stares you were getting, you would just curl up into a ball, hide yourself and never face the world again.

“How do you know I’m lying?” your head resting on your bruised knees.

Namjoon was a quiet for a brief moment, he was busy with analyzing you, you were so vulnerable and pure. But clearing his throat he stared at your face.

“Jin Hyung did your blood test and it was clean. Hmm how did he say it exactly. There’s more caffeine than water, it’s like you lived on teas and coffee or any kinds of fake energy sources.”

You groaned, the dark shade of red appearing on your cheeks making everyone around you almost awe at the sight of it.

But all of them remained silenced, they had to remain themselves they were mafia.

“Of course…” you mumbled.

“So why don’t you tell us the truth. I won’t let you go if you will keep lying” Namjoon stated, his fingertips dancing on the wooden table.

“I can’t” you whispered, you couldn’t tell them the truth, not now.

Namjoon sighed, he really hoped that all of the tortures you went through will break you, but you were stronger than it, whoever you tried to protect, you loved more than you loved yourself and in a very weird way, he respected it, he respected how you were willing to suffer for someone else.

“Jimin, keep an eye on her for now, we can’t have any trouble disturbing others” he said before dismissing the both of you.

You slid onto one of the kitchen chairs staring at the gorgeous male in front of you, who was willing to make you the best ramen ever.

“Any likes and dislikes I need to be aware of?” Jimin asked looking through the cupboards trying to find everything he needs.

You smiled sheepishly thinking of the long list of food items you hated, food textures that made you sick. It was a long list.

As if Jimin had read your mind, while shaking his head he “Please don’t tell me you’re a picky eater”.

You nodded rolling your eyes “I am, but I’m sure you can’t mess up ramen. Unless you will put in onions or carrots or make it too spicy…” you started rambling.

Jimin puts a finger to your lips and gently shushes you. “Wow, you’re like TaeTae”

Speaking of the devil, suddenly very messy Taehyung enters the kitchen, instantly clinging to Jimin.

“Jiminie! Why did you lock your door tonight! I couldn’t fall asleep without cuddling anyone” he whined, seeing as his voice was deeper and raspier, you assumed he had just woken up.

You couldn’t help but freeze at the sigh of him, yet you couldn’t help but almost let out a cute yelp, was it really the same guy that had a very sick playdate with you?

As if Taehyung felt your presence he turned around “Jagi!”.

As he started walking towards, jumping from the kitchen chair you moved further away, until your back was pressed against the cold wall.

“Taehyung stop” Jimin ordered with a stern look on his face.

Suprisingly to you, Taehyung stepped before looking back at his hyung. “I just wanted to say hi” he mumbles looking down.

You pull yourself together before you could move and actually comfort him. For crying out loud, he stabbed you.

“Jimin, can we go?” you ask, mentally hissing at your shaky voice.

You and Jimin stood in the small balcony of his room. The sun collecting colorful sky under her wing and soon all of the colors melts into a grey under the shining moonlight.

You have always loved the wind, for it comes to you so boldly, touches your skin and the soft breeze almost sooths you to sleep.

You couldn’t help but giggle as the find softly tickled your face, you had missed this, these minor joys of life that were drained out of you within the past couple of months.

Jimin glanced towards you once he heard the small giggle escape your lips, it has been long, too long since he had heard something as pure as your laugh.

It was beautiful. You were beautiful.

Before asking, Jimin cleared his throat bringing your attention towards him. “Why are you willing to die for someone who had lied to you?”

You shrugged, before smile warningly starts to appear on your tired face.

“You know there is a thin line between insanity and reality. Sometimes when it’s 3 am or 2 pm I stand in the way of both of those sites as if trying to decide which parallel is better. And when that happens I’m always being torn, standing like a complete idiot with crashed software. At those moments everything is being exposed, everything that I had folded into the small folds, just to make myself look presentable to others. It feels like suffocating on your own remorse and all you want is to scream, yet you’re blank.” You said staring at the boy in front of you. Jimin’s scrunched eyebrows only showed that he was waiting for you to continue.

“She was that person helped me to breathe when I was suffocating on my own breath, choking all because of the air in my lungs that suddenly turned toxic” you finished, a tiny transparent drop rolling down your cheek.

Before you could wipe it away, Jimin takes your face into his cold hands.

“I want to help you. But I can’t do anything if you won’t tell me…us what really happened” he whispered, his eyes jumping from your eyes, to your lips.

Then as if the wind had pushed Jimin towards you, he pressed his lips against yours.

And even though the dawn was still some time away, there was a light in your heart, that was missing just yesterday.

Tag list: @jjk-chan @themediocrefangirl @memimin @taegividz @xcharlottemikaelsonx

(Tell me if you want to be tagged)

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dogfatherpads · 7 years ago

Text

Im Not Her Part 2 (JamesxReader)

God I’m sorry i took so long guys.. exams and my job and house work they just piled up and i got so busy but here it is and i hope you like it!

Warnings: cursing, angst, many tears, anxiety attack

(y/e/c = your eye color) (y/n = your name)

Word Count: 3.1k

*gif is not mine*

Remus stared at you incredulous before blinking slowly. “Did you at least use protection?” standing suddenly, the abruptness knocking his chair over when you lowered your head in shame, “he better hope i dont find him!” All eyes turned to the both of you and some people shushed loudly from behind the bookcases.

“Remus please,” you stood up and pressed your hands to his chest but he was seeing red and was beyond listening to your pleas.

“How could he have been so careless? So fucking inconsiderate? You are 18 y/n!”

“It was heat of the moment Remus, it just happened… and I’m feeling pretty stupid about it right now so if you could please… lower your voice,” you blinked the tears away and he exhaled deeply the angry expression on his face turning into a desolate one.

“I’m really sorry…”

“What have you got to be sorry for? I was the one taken by sweet words. I was so stupid…” you shook your head.

“I’m sorry for his actions. I’m sorry he doesn’t see what he has,” he brushed a tear away from under your eyes and you leaned into his touch.

“Why couldn’t I have fallen for you?” you mumbled softly before you could even stop the words. The brushing of his thumb across your cheek ceased immediately and you froze. “I’m sorry I didn’t mean it like…”

“You can’t just say those kinds of things. I won’t let you use me to get over James. What were you playing at this whole time? You thought you could just replace him the way he did you? You’re just like him. If not worse! You don’t flirt with friends and hold their hands platonically. It doesn’t work that way,” he grabbed his bag from off the table and began to storm out.

“Moony wait..” you reached for his arm and he tugged it away roughly before turning to you.

“And you most definitely don’t get to hop from one friend to another just because it didn’t work out with the first.” Your jaw dropped at that and you took a step back, flinching away from his cruel words. You felts as though you had been slapped as you watched him walk away.

“He didn’t mean it,” you repeated to yourself over and over as you blinked the tears away, gathering your stuff hurriedly as you felt your chest begin to constrict. “Not here,” you took a shaky breath before running out of the library and towards the Gryffindor tower. The tears were flowing freely now and it was becoming increasingly harder to breathe.

He didn’t mean it. He didn’t mean it.

You rushed up the steps to the girl’s dorms and rushed into yours, rushing towards the bathroom and locking the door before a sob wracked your body. Incredibly loud, painful wails escaped your lips as you closed the shower curtain around you. The tub was your safe place, as crazy and incomprehensible as that sounded. It felt like a personal bubble, a place where your troubles couldn’t reach you. Unfortunately for you, your grief was trapped in there with you. Your brought your knees up to your chest, hugging them close and resting your forehead on top of them as the sobs continued. It was only moments before the door flew open and the curtain was drawn back for someone to join you. Her arms wrapped around you tightly and she shushed your sobbing quietly, rocking you back and forth, “Im here, we’re okay breathe.” You gasped for air and she held you tighter, her blonde hair cascading over your face.

“Marlene…” you started before you broke into another fit of sobs.

“It’s okay… we’re okay…” she smoothed your hair out softly as you focused on regaining your breathing, welcoming the relaxing scent of lavender that seemed to always cling to her. She sat quietly with you, brushing her fingers through your hair until your tears stopped, talking about anything and everything to distract you.

“Marlene…”

“Do you want to tell me what happened? I thought you were studying with Remus?” she looked down at you and you sighed, sitting up and wiping a hand across your face.

“I have to tell you everything… before i can tell you about today.”

“Go ahead, everyone’s just gone to dinner no one will interrupt us.” You sighed deeply and twisted the ring on your finger before looking up at her and spilling everything. About your feelings for James and the nights spent in his bed. About relying on Remus as a shoulder to cry on and not realizing you were leading him on. About the night you spent with James. And she was quiet the whole time, her face never betraying any emotion she felt. Marlene was someone you knew you could confide in, she had always been like the mom friend, always looking out for you and was one of the few people that you knew you could trust with just about anything.

“And what happened after Lily showed up?” You closed your eyes and sighed.

“Lily?” he closed the door a little further, obstructing her view into the room behind him.

“Im sorry, i know it’s early on the weekend and you probably got in late and..” she was rambling.

“Lils,” James cut her off and you felt a twinge in your chest at the affectionate nickname, “what’s going on?”

“I kind of wanted to apologize for my behavior last night… wanted to see if we could talk? Madame Pudifoot’s later today at three? Is that okay?”

You held your breath, sitting up and holding the covers up over your chest, waiting for his response.

“Umm I don’t know if…”

“Please? Out of respect to all of those years you chased after me, you practically harassed me Potter,” he chuckled and ran a hand through his hair, “Or have you got something more important to do?” you couldn’t see her face but could hear the hopeful tone in her voice.

“Yeah Lils, you’ve got it,” he nodded. Your eyebrows knit together briefly before, you got up and began to get dressed. “I’ll meet you there.”

“Thank you. I promise, you wont regret it,” stupid stupid stupid. You zipped up your boots and grabbed your purse as he shut the door, a look of confusion arranged along his features when he noticed you were fully dressed.

“Where are you going?”

“You must think I’m so stupid.”

“What?” he looked surprised.

“You can stop your little charade now. Did you tell me you loved me just to get me in the sack?”

“Are you being serious right now?” he looked angry, his tone disbelieving.

“You didn’t have to try so hard you know? An apology would have sufficed,” you walked towards the door your hand on the knob but he leaned against it.

“You’re fucking insane if you really believe that. If you think so little of me…”

“Yeah well, don’t wanna be late for your date,” you retorted sarcastically, a cynical smile displaying across your face. His face became expressionless as he moved aside, allowing you to exit the room.

“Why would he agree on a date with Lily if he was in love with you y/n?”

“I don’t know Marlene… I don’t think he really meant it,” you shrugged and she gave you a disapproving look.

“Really? I don’t know… you might have jumped the gun there. You said he sounded reluctant to agree to see her. And look i know Potter’s a cocky git sometimes but i really don’t think he’d stoop so low as to tell you he loved you just for a good time. Sounds more like Sirius if you ask me,” she huffed and you laughed. She cracked a smile and shook her head, “I didn’t mean it… just bitter’s all. Point is… maybe you should talk to him. And then clear things up with Remus. He’s a good friend.” You sniffled and nodded.

“Thanks Marlene, ‘m sorry about your robes,” you pointed to the tear stained patch on her shoulder and she smiled, waving a hand.

“I was putting off laundry, this was the cleanest one but now i have the excuse. Are you feeling better?”

“Tons. I really appreciate it… I’d feel better if you talked to Sirius,” you grinned widely and she rolled her eyes, getting up from the tub and offering you a hand to help you up.

“No promises. I’ve kind of met someone new… Wanna sneak off to Hogsmeade for some hot chocolate?”

The day spent with Marlene really helped cheer you up. You stocked up on candy at Honeydukes and even window shopped some of the dresses at Gladrags Wizardwear as she gushed over the new Ravenclaw boy she’d began seeing. You practiced with her what you’d say if you ran into James and she listened carefully, applying helpful suggestions where she thought appropriate. You walked into the castle, sneaking around the corridors to avoid the professors before finally making it to the portrait. You’d frozen as soon as you walked in. He was sat by a window, flipping through his muggle studies textbook. Marlene squeezed your hand and took your bags.

“You’re okay?”

“Im okay,” you nodded and she made her way up the stairs and to the dorm. You walked up to him slowly and took a deep breath. “h-hey James…” but he didn’t stir. “Okay i deserve that… can we talk please?”

“So you can insult me some more? I think I’ll pass.”

“James, I’m really sorry. I had no right to react the way I did… we weren’t anything to begin with. Just because you said you loved me didn’t mean we were together and I won’t be that girl that gets hung up on somebody just because they had sex once Im-”

“Honestly?” he finally turned to look at you, “it really hurt for you to have said those things. After all this time. Do you really think so low of me?”

“No, I was just- confused because it was so easy for you to replace me the first time.. and then i felt stupid because here i was in your bed half naked and i thought, he’s leaving again…”

“I apologized!” he cut you off but his shoulders dropped, his expression softening, “it wasn’t a date.”

“Everyone knows you go to Madam Pudifoot’s with someone you’re dating James, what do you think it looked like on my end?”

“Okay maybe to her it was a date. I only agreed to meet her because I wanted to clear things up. I didn’t want to two time anybody…”

“You agreed to meet her… to break up with her?” you felt a weight lift off of your shoulders as you tried to contain the smile that threatened to break out across your face.

“Yeah and i did…” he closed his eyes and shook his head, “because I meant it when i said i loved you. Being with her only reminded me that she wasn’t you. Look i don’t want to be friends with benefits, or whatever it is you thought. You deserve more than that… I want everything with you. But it really cut me up to see you run back to Moony when things went wrong… I guess if,” he scratched the back of his neck and sighed, “if you’ve got feelings for him. Or if you’re not ready for a relationship with me, if you want to go back to the way we used to be and work on fixing up our friendship again… I can respect that.”

You felt awful seeing him struggle to say that.

“James I… I didn’t want this to be something that came between you two, I just needed a friend…”

‘‘Oh he had plenty to say to me. About how i was an idiot for not seeing how special you were and how lucky i was to have you. For not being safe and putting you at risk like that… Merlin i hadn’t even thought of that. I’m really sorry… I’ll- whatever happens… I can take care of us, er you and,” he motioned towards you and you grinned.

“James, I’m on the pill, but look at you stepping up like a man,” you joked and he smiled, a small blush coloring his face, something more than butterflies fluttered in your stomach.

“Like i said… I want everything with you. And i want to do it right. I want to bring you flowers and take you out to Hogsmeade. I want to see you in my jersey at the Quidditch games again. I want to be able to hold your hand again and kiss you whenever i want to. But not if… you know if Moony…. I just want my best friend back.”

“James,” you couldn’t help the smile on your face, “James, I just needed a friend. Im sorry if I made you or him believe that I wanted something more. Sweetie, all i did while i was with him was cry about you. He must have been so annoyed. It’s you James. It’s always been you and it always will be,” you reached out to intertwine your fingers with his, your heart skipped a beat at the grin that covered his face, “I’d love to accompany you to Hogsmeade. I’d love to cheer you on at your games. And i would love to wake up to you every morning if you’d let me…”

“Hmm,” he got a pensive look and pursed his lips together, “I don’t know… I kind of missed having my bed all to myself…”

“James,” you whined and he laughed, an extraordinarily happy laugh that melted your insides. It was your favorite sound.

“You wouldn’t believe how hard it is to sleep without you… ive grown accustomed to your warmth, and your head on my chest, and your sleep talk,” he teased, placing a hand gently on your face and brushing his thumb softly along your cheek. “I miss waking up to those big, beautiful y/e/c eyes and that brilliant smile of yours that i love.”

“I love you James,” it wasn’t until he leaned in and kissed you with full force that you realized you hadn’t said it back Friday night. You wrapped your arms around his waist and sighed happily against his lips, indulging in the sweet taste of Honey and spearmint that lingered on his lips.

*****

You took a deep breath and walked into the section of the library you knew he’d be in. You tried to ignore the rattle of the chocolates inside the box you held in your shaking hands. Moony had continued to be distant with you, especially after you and James had made it official. He’d find ways to avoid you in class and in the dining hall and always made up some excuse about having somewhere to be any time you showed up. You couldn’t lose Moony. He was such an amazing friend and like a brother to James. You didn’t want there to be a distance because of your doings, and you didn’t want to lose one of your best friends. He sat with his back to you, diligently working on some paper for Charms. You froze momentarily and James squeezed your hip reassuringly.

“He’s stubborn, but he doesn’t hold grudges. I’ll be right here if anything okay?” he pressed a small reassuring kiss to your cheek and you exhaled deeply before walking up to his table. He looked up when you sat the box of chocolates in front of him.

“They’re your favorite…” you mumbled quietly fidgeting under his blank stare. “May I?” you motioned towards the chair across from his and he sighed extending his hand towards it, granting you permission to sit. You held back a smile and sat. “Moony…”

“Remus,” he interrupted, crossing his arms across his chest and you raised your eyebrows, slightly amused although your hands still shook.

“Remus… Im really sorry…”

“For what?”

“Of all things?”

��Mhmm.”

“Im sorry for dragging you to the party with me last Friday and never buying you chocolates like i promised. I’m sorry for using you as a shoulder to cry on and burdening you with my problems when you have your own. But most of all, I’m really sorry for not taking your feelings into consideration when I flirted with you. Im sorry if i lead you on… I’m sorry if I made you feel like you were just an option… Im sorry i abused your friendship. It’s really valuable to me and I don’t want to lose it… I don’t want to lose you…”

“That’s a lot of things to be sorry for.”

“I know… I’ve been a shitty friend and I’m sorry for that too..”

He looked at you for a long time and you wondered if he was debating on not forgiving you. Finally he exhaled deeply and set his arms on the table, leaning towards you.

“You haven’t been a shitty friend. And i owe you an apology as well..”

“No you don’t,” you shook your head and he held up a hand.

“Let me finish. I really do owe you one. I overreacted when you said what you did. Honestly, it did make me feel like i was just an option, but that was no excuse for me to practically call you a whore. I really apologize for that, I didn’t mean it and I never believed it either. I regretted it as soon as I said it. I only said it to hurt you back and I’m very sorry for offending you like that.”

“You’re forgiven,” you smiled and he gave you a small smile in return, “I just don’t want to be the reason there’s a falling out between you and James…”

“Pfft,” he scoffed and rolled his eyes before opening the box of chocolates and popping one in his mouth, “please, you’re not that special,” he waved a hand and you scoffed a grin taking over your face.

You were forgiven.

“Remus!”

“To be honest i wasn’t all that into you anyways…. no offense. Sirius is more my type, and that’s Moony to you,” he grinned and your hand flew to your mouth when you gasped.

“I see you two have clearly made up,” James smiled and sat beside you, “I didn’t know you were into Pads!”

“Really? Im surprised! Nothing ever escapes you!” Remus gasped sarcastically and you two broke into fits of laughter as James tried in vain to defend himself. “Mate… you didn’t even see what you had right in front of you,” Moony motioned to you and James smiled, wrapping his arm around your shoulders and pressing a kiss to your cheek.

“You’re right,” he mumbled to Moony before turning to look at you, “but now I’ll never let you go.”

there is it guys! god i hope you like it. Sorry again for the long wait. I hope it was everything you expected and more. Hope you like reading it as much as i liked writing it <3

#James Potter #Sirius Black #Remus Lupin #Lily Evans #Marauders #Im Not Her #stephwrites

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moonlight-escapade · 7 years ago

Text

No Longer Alone (Logan Howlett/Peter Maximoff Imagine)

Heeellooo everybodyyy!

I worked on this literally all last night, all day yesterday, all night the night before that, and all day the day before that... I’m gonna be honest, I played with A LOT of stuff here. It’s kind of a monster! Anyway, I hope you guys find some enjoyment out of my ramblings.

WORD COUNT: 7, 442

Also FYI: I wrote this in first person, and because it’s so long... I don’t really have the patience to go back and change pronouns haha! But of course the classic (Y/N) is in there.

In this story, Logan is sort of like the Reader’s guardian/mentor. And Peter Maximoff (Quicksilver) is her crush. The story takes place at a school dance, but there are a lot of flashback sequences throughout it. Again, I played with a lot of stuff. (I feel like for some reason I have a bit more fun writing when I don’t have like an exact “plan” for my story for some reason? XD

I hope you enjoy!! xo

It was beautiful. Like a prom. The one’s I’d seen on T.V. anyway… this was just a “Formal.” But still, it was beautiful nonetheless.

Streamers curled down from the ceilings in strings of silver, sparkling ribbons. The lights shone on them, making the room sparkle… like stars had fallen from the heavens for the evening and scattered around the dance floor just for us. Us mutants.

I loved dances. Or rather.. I suppose I loved the idea of them. This was my first one. I couldn’t help but giggle to myself as I glanced across the room at Logan, who stood all brooding and annoyed and aloof in the corner. Despite his expression, he still managed to look incredibly handsome in the new suit I’d persuaded him to buy the day he’d come with me to get a dress. I’m pretty sure he only bought it to stop me from annoyingly abhorring him over going to a formal dance with jeans and a t-shirt… and to stop from feeling flustered as I mentioned what Jean would think about seeing him in a suit.

“You know it’s not a Prom,” he’d pointed out for the third time as I pulled on the last dress I’d picked out.

“Oh shush, let me have this. Okay…” I stared at myself in the mirror for a moment, eying the way the delicate silver fabric fell around my figure.

“Well?”

I suddenly felt nervous. This dress felt different from the other three Logan had rolled his eyes at. Especially the pink one… when I’d stepped out he’d almost laughed. I don’t think I’d ever seen Logan express himself with anything but that permanently engraved scowl on his face since I’d met him. So that was enough to scar me for life. But as I stared at myself in the mirror, I couldn’t help but notice this one felt different. That I felt different in it.

“Any day now,” he droned, annoyed. I could practically hear the eyeroll and his classic arched brow waiting for me on the other side of the curtain.

“If you don’t pick something I swear I’m go-“

I pulled the curtain back quickly- maybe a little too quickly. I couldn’t help the nerves running through me as I stared at him. My fingers lacing nervously behind my back as I stood there, watching him tentatively from the small threshold between the dressing room and the shop. His eyes trailed down me slowly, his face hard and impassive as ever. And I struggled not to immediately throw my arms in front of me, rush back into the dressing room, throw my jeans and sneakers back on and forget I’d ever tried the stupid thing on in the first place. I felt a sweat break through me. Why wasn’t he saying anything?

“So? Get on with your sarcastic comment so we can get out of here…” I muttered nervously.

His eyebrow rose. There it is.

“You look beautiful,” he spoke, his eyes finding mine as I’d began trying to hide myself behind my hair. But I stared back at him in shock. A nervous blush edging it’s way onto my face as he smiled softly back at me. What in the world??

I couldn’t think of what to say. Did Logan just call me beautiful?

“I-?“

“Don’t look so surprised.”

“I’m just-“

He stood up, slinging the zipped garment back with his suit over his shoulder. “C’mon Cinderella, let’s get you to a ball.”

I smiled at the memory as I stroked the shimmery fabric of my dress.

“Alright everyone! Couple more bangers and we’re gonna change the mood to something slooow.”

I looked up at my classmates- my fellow mutants. I still don’t think I’d ever be used to that idea. For as long as I can remember I’d been the only… me… I knew. When I’d discovered my powers of psychokinesis and telepathy, my parents… threw me out. Though that seemed a bit of an understatement to my actual experience. I was a “devils child,” they’d said. Of course, when you live in the deep heart of Alabama, any talent that didn’t have to do with the handling of livestock was basically considered witchcraft. But my ability to read them… they couldn’t stand it. And I couldn’t either. I heard them all the time, day and night- cursing me. I heard their hatred, their disgust toward every waking breath I took. I couldn’t stand it. I nearly drove myself insane by trying to stay silent… trying to not upset them. But when you’d heard your own parent’s… hating you… I don’t think anyone could survive. So I left. But… not before manipulating our herd of cattle to destroy their ranch. Petty? Maybe. Do I regret it? Not at all.

Logan found me the next day in the woods. Classic story right? But I had no where to go, and knowing my parents- the entire town would have known about my “curse,” by then. But Logan… knew. Somehow he just, saw me. It made me feel safe, and I didn’t really think to question it. In the beginning though, he scared me a lot, and he wasn’t very kind. Though even a compliment from him could tend to sound like an insult. But as we travelled together, he started opening up to me more. And I to him. And soon he’d become my mentor. Next a sort of endearing grump. And then he became my friend. And when he’d introduced me to Professor Xavier, he’d smiled at me for the first time since I’d met him. I knew right then I’d found my family, and a soft spot in Logan’s heart.

“Aren’t you gonna dance?”

I looked up to meet that eternally arched brow. I smiled softly before shaking my head. “I’m fine watching for now. You look handsome,” I raised a brow at him playfully.

“Yeah yeah,” he waved me off, rolling his eyes in defeat.

“So what’s wrong? You were looking forward to this. Hell, you haven’t shut up about it for weeks.”

I laughed. “I know.”

He huffed. “So what? Aren’t you gonna dance at least?”

I looked at him shyly. “I don’t… know. I don’t know who I’d even dance with.” I stared back out to the crowd, knowing exactly “who I’d even dance with.”

He looked down at me. “What about-?”

I shook my head. “No. He’s…” I looked up and caught sight of him as he dashed around the room. He looked so handsome tonight, but he was with her again. And I could never compete with a tall, blonde prescience-r. I mean, she literally sees the future. I don’t think she’d waste her time- especially when it came to love. “He’s with Gina.”

Logan looked towards the crowd of dancing mutants, then back at me.

“Besides,” I laughed softly, looking up at him. “What boy would waste their time with a girl like me?”

“Andy?”

The blonde haired boy turned around. His blue eyes as bright and clear as ever as he searched for my voice. My heart flew to my throat as I stared at him. It was him. My Andy.

It’d been months since I’d last seen him. Since we’d said “I love you.” The day before I… disappeared.

His eyes caught mine then, and his movement froze. “(Y/N)?” his voice came as a whisper. His face twisting into confusion.

I nodded slowly, wanting but too afraid to take a step towards him.

Did he know?

“You left,” he spoke then, his voice cutting through the silent hum of the Diner’s florescent lighting. I breathed in, nodding softly as I help my breath, my fingers locking in front of me as my eyes stayed glued to his.

“I know. I’m… I’m sorry I didn’t tell you,” I mumbled hesitantly. I had no sooner made to take a step towards him when he quickly stepped, almost jumped, back. His eyes trained on me cautiously. As though I would attack. My throat closed.

“Your mom and dad… they said something… happened to you.”

I watched him carefully, my heart pounding as I waited for him to continue.

“How come you never told me?” he accused, his voice laced with hurt and disgust. I nearly winced at his tone as hit words struck through me.

“I-I wanted to-“

“You- You’re a freak- you’re… you're the devil,” he spat, enunciating each word with disbelief as he shook his head at me in disgust. I blinked, looking at him with surprise. I didn’t really have any expectation towards his reaction.. but… hearing him speak that way. I had never heard him speak like that to anyone… especially not me. His words had always been so kind and lovely… words that made my stomach flutter and my heart melt. Now they shoot cold fear through me.

“No, no, Andy, I promise you, I’m-“

“Did you mess with my mind?”

“No! Andy please listen-“

“Don’t bullshit me, (Y/N)! I know what you are! You're one of those freaks- those monsters!”

“No, Andy, please,” I felt my throat tighten as a sob began to form in my chest. My eyes soon prickling as I stared at him. At the way he distanced himself form me as though I were some kind of poisonous creature.

“Andy-“ I reached out to him, gasping as he suddenly charged forward, grabbing my wrist painfully in his grip. I felt myself physically shrink as I looked up at him. At those eyes that used to gaze down on me with kindness and love… now with fire and hatred clouding their dark blue irises, staring daggers into me.

“You devil- you monster. You fucked with my mind didn’t you?”

I gasped, feeling tears stream down my face as I stared back and forth between his eyes silently.

“Hey!” A voice boomed from the other side of the diner. The sound immediately shooting through me and down my spine. The echo of loud, warmongering steps fell across the room as none other than Logan approached us.

“Get the fuck off of her,” he growled as Andy’s fierce expression melted instantly into fear. His hand still gripped my wrist… though now I supposed it was rather out of terror than to cause harm.

“I said get the fuck off of her!” Logan yelled, grabbing his arm and tearing it away from me. I watched Andy’s eyes widen in horror before Logan stood in front of me, blocking my view from the first boy I’d ever loved.

“You ever touch her or even come near her again,” his claws came out of his hands. I jumped back, still slightly unused to the sight of them. “I cut your goddamn hands off.”

I peeked around Logan, watching Andy. His eyes flickered down to me as he stood there in shock, unsure what to do or say.

“You want a preview?” Logan yelled at him impatiently. Andy shook his head quickly, his breathing heavy as he turned towards the entrance, scrambling out the glass doorway. Logan watched him till the metallic border screeched shut and his figure faded into the dark night.

I stood frozen as Logan’s towering form turned back towards me. His claws retracting as he stared down at me… the metallic zing making me flinch as I returned his hard gaze blankly. Before I could think of what to say, the sound of a gunshot broke throughout the diner. Glass shattered as the bullet broke through the entrance. I screamed, ducking to the ground with my hands over my head as I waited for more to sound. Glancing up at Logan, I gasped as the sight of blood spilled from his torso seeping onto his plaid shirt. As I stared up at him, a chill running down my spine as I watched his face contort into hell fury before slowly turning back around. My eyes widened in fear as I followed his gaze. Standing outside with ignorant ferocity blazing in his eyes was none other than Andy. A shining silver handgun in his grasp, pointed straight at Logan.

“Logan-“ I called, scrambling to my feet as he made to charge towards him. I grabbed his arm, holding him back as I watched him visually rip apart the boy I’d once known. The vision nearly made me scream- I desperately needed to get this telepathy thing under control. But soon as I’d stood up, Logan grabbed me, crouching on the ground and shielding me as Andy shot another round. I couldn’t help the scream that escaped me as his arms wrapped around me. I breathed hard, tears quickly flowing from my eyes as Logan whispered for me to stay down, his eyes flickering with softness for a moment before he turned back up towards Andy.

While he walked away, round after round of bullets sounded, breaking glasses and screeching bullets rang throughout the Diner. Logan made no sound as he walked towards Andy, who yelled and screamed at him, calling him everything a person who was asking for the worst of Logan’s wrath could call him. I held my breath as Andy’s “stay backs,” grew louder and more anguished. I wanted to run, to stop them- but my body remained paralyzed.

“I said stay back you beast!” He screamed as his gun clicked emptily. I shook my head, holding my arms around me as my eyes closed shut.

“You broke the wrong girls heart, bud,” Logan growled. My heart stopped as the grating sound of his claws broke out again. I pushed myself up, searching the mess of glass and broken door frames for Logan and Andy’s forms. Stumbling through glass and broken shards of metal, I felt my heart start pounding uncontrollably as I caught them where they stood, facing off. A cold sweat broke through me as I stared at them, knowing there was something I could do.

Andy’s gun fell suddenly to the ground as Logan’s claws retracted reluctantly back into his hands. Logan’s fierce gaze snapped back to me, his eyes dark as he watched me, resisting as best as he could my Psychokinesis. I shook my head, staring back at him calmly as I could.

“What the hell!” Andy yelled, his breath quick as he stood paralyzed. His hands stuck in front of him. He stared back at me, his expression still furious. “What did you do to me you bitch!”

“Hey!” Logan snapped back, warning him. I stopped him from stepping forward. He looked back at me again, “(Y/N), what the hell?”

I took a deep breath before turning my heel on the shards of broken glass littering the Diner floor. My shoes crackled against the scattered pieces as I made my way towards them, my eyes stinging with tears as I watched Andy struggle, motionless.

“(Y/N),” Logan spoke. I stared at him, letting him know it was okay before turning back to the boy that had once been my first love.

“Stay away from me you-“

“I think the word you’re looking for is mutant?” I spoke, my tone laced with scorn. I walked up to him slowly, my breath heavy in my chest as I stared at I'm hard. My eyes watering and furious. “I loved you.”

He blinked at me, his expression reluctant as he tried to glance away.

“And you told me you loved me. Remember, Andy?” I waited for his response.

He stared at me, his brows furrowing as he tried to escape my eyes. “I… That was before-“

“Before I was a mutant?” I mocked him, my eyebrow raising in disbelief. I’d been around Logan too long. “I have some news for you, Andy,” I spat, pushing him against the chest as he remained motionless under my command. “I’ve always been who I am. So like it or not- you loved a mutant. And a mutant… a mutant loved you back,” I breathed heavily. The weight of that truth lying heavy on my chest.

He stared at me. “I could never love a thing you.”

I blinked, my breath hitched in my throat as I stepped back.

And before I could say another word, a fist crashed into the side of his face. I gasped, releasing him from his paralyzed state as Logan came to stand above where he’d fallen on the ground. I stared in shock as Logan looked back at me.

“Let him off way too easy,” he grunted. I stared at him, too many emotions swirling in my mind to answer him.

“I…” I couldn’t speak. But I wouldn’t have been able if I wanted to. I began to cry. Tears flowed generously from my eyes as I held my hands against my chest. My heart physically paining as I stared at Andy’s unconscious body. Logan stood before me, staring down as I wrapped my arms around me. After a moment, I felt his arms around me. He held me.

I shook my head, furious at myself for…. for I don’t know. I don’t even know what I did, but my life was a series of tragedies after another, and I hadn’t hurt anyone. I grabbed Logan’s shirt and pulled myself into his chest.

“Come on,” Logan spoke softly, frustration still clear in his voice. But an empathy I’d never heard from him before lingered throughout it. I looked up at him, sniffing as I wiped the moisture off my face with my sleeve.

“It’ll hurt him more, living with he guilt.” He looked at me for a moment before giving me a quick touch under the chin with his finger. Pushing Andy’s body out of the way with his boot, he looked back at me. “We gotta move.”

He walked forward, trailing back over to the wilderness surrounding the small Diner. The “easier path” Logan said, because no one would suspect or harass a mutant in the woods. But I think it was for the solitude. The quiet. I felt guilty sometimes… for screwing up his rhythm. I tried not to talk too much… he tended to get annoyed easily. But I was selfishly grateful he’d picked me up. Even though I never said it… he was family to me now… the dad I never had. But I’d die of embarrassment before admitting that to The Wolverine.

“First of all, are you talking about that little shit head from Kentucky? (Y/N), don’t you dare let his shit filled mouth get into your head, do you hear me?” He stared at me hard, I nodded softly, unable to break from his locked gaze. “You’re mixing with a different crowd now, (Y/N),” he gestured before him to a group of rowdy boys who were pouring some kind of liquid from a flask into their drinks. “Not that I wouldn’t still kick the hell out of one of these genetically enhanced shit-heads.”

I laughed softly, turning to look for Peter who stood shining in all his silver glory across the room. God, he was perfect. But it always rang through me… despite the fact that even Peter was a mutant, like me;

“I could never love a thing like you.”

I shook my head quickly, trying to take Logan’s advice and shake the memory of Andy’s “full of shit mouth” out of me. I stared towards the DJ and decided pay my hardest attention to the music, and not the way Gina’s golden locks swayed around her as Peter spun her in his arms.

“Hey! Peter!” I called as I ran up to meet him outside of our Close Quarters Combat class. I tried to hide my overwhelming excitement as I hid the small cassette up my sleeve. He smiled as he watched me approach.

“Man you’re slow,” he teased as he smiled down at me. A smile that nearly melted my heart.

I laughed, rolling my eyes. “Ugh, I know. What normal person takes 20 seconds to run from the stairway to Logan’s classroom?”

He laughed as he pulled his headphones down around his neck. I watched him excitedly, bouncing on my feet as I waited for him to to guess what I’d brought.

“What?” He laughed, his eyes following me playfully as I bounced up and down.

“Guess what came yesterday?” I squealed, holding my arm against my chest. His eyes widened as he stared down at my hands.

“No.”

“Yes!”

I pulled out the brand spankin’ new Stevie Nicks “Wild Heart” tape and waved it in his face.

“Stevie!” I yelled excitedly. He laughed, watching me victoriously hold it in the air before I handed it to him. He grabbed it excitedly, running his finger down the shiny new plastic as he went over the tracks.

Stand Back, Wild Heart… shit! She even did one with Tom Petty!” he smiled, opening the case as he unclipped his walkman from his belt.

“I know! I’ve been dying to show you! It got here yesterday afternoon and I was looking for you everywhere!” I smiled as he handed me his favorite Jim Croyce tape. My heart slightly skipped as I held the tape in my hand. I wouldn’t be surprised if he’d risk taking a bullet for this thing… and the fact that he let me hold it… I dunno… I felt kind of special.

Logan’s ever irritated voice called for us all to come in as Peter set up the tape in his player. As I walked in at Peter’s side, Logan raised a brow down at me. I tried to hide my excited smile as I gave him a shrug, skipping lightly beside Peter where, to my surprise, we ended up sitting next to each other on the small wooden bleachers in the classroom. My heart seemed to fly into my stomach as butterflies flew wildly around it. I tried desperately to hide my excitement.

“Put it away, Maximoff,” Logan called as soon as Peter lent me an ear on his headphones. I glared at Logan, who stared back apathetically.

“We’ll listen later,” Peter whispered down at me as he put his headphones back around his neck. I looked up at him and nodded. He gave me a wink. My heart nearly exploded.

“Alright, well… let’s have Peter and (Y/N), since they can’t seem to take their eyes off each other.” Logan called from the floor.

I snapped my head to him, shooting daggers with my eyes as he gestured for us to take the floor. A knowing smile on his face. I continued to glare at him as we made our way down.

“Now, let’s see if you can do the same thing in combat,” he spoke cockily. I shook my head in disbelief at him, just enough for him to see before Peter made his way in front of me.

“Get ready, set-“

I looked at Peter, he smiled playfully as he crouched in front of me. His hands in running position at his sides as he readied himself. I kept my eyes on his feet, ready to take them out from under him soon as-

“Go!”

And no sooner than he’d called it, Peter was on the floor.

“Holy!” Peter spoke breathlessly on the ground. I laughed triumphantly as I walked over to meet his stunned expression and held a hand out to help him up. Logan nodded as the class cheered me on. I stood back in place, firm and still as I stared down at his feet again.

“Go!” Logan called.

He’d made it a step farther, but again, Peter fell to the ground. He rolled onto his back and stared up at the ceiling, breathing heavily, “What happened to ‘One, Two, Three?’”

I held my hand out to him, helping him up. As he jumped up, adjusting himself, I cocked my head playfully. “What’s the matter? To quick for you?”

He smiled, his eyes widening as he slowly shook his head in disbelief. He jumped around then, shaking himself out before crouching back down and squinting at me in concentration.

“Alright, ready slow poke?” Logan teased gruffly as he winked at me knowingly. I widened my eyes at him to make him shush.

“One, Two, Three- Go!”

The world blurred then and I barely felt the back of my head hit the blue training mat.

I was… on the floor.

Wait.

What..?

I blinked a few times before focusing in front of me- or rather above me, and nearly gasped as I found myself met with Peter’s eyes, staring down at me playfully and triumphantly.

I felt my heart begin pumping quickly as I stared back at him, dazed. And as I tried to move up, I quickly froze. I glanced down to meet his chest… realizing I was.. under him. I glanced back up at him, his face close to mine, and… suddenly… the world began to blur around us. I felt my breath disappear as his eyes watched me with a sincerity I’d never…

“Well, apparently these two have a different definition of ’Close Quarters.’” Logan jeered playfully (for him). I gasped as I looked out to the class, who began giggling and chuckling humorously as Peter crawled off me. I propped myself off the ground as his hand came down to help me. Grabbing his hand, he pulled me up, quick enough to cause me to slightly land against his chest.

“You two want to get a room?”

I pulled away from Peter, embarrassed. I shot a look to Logan but could barely manage even a glare as the feel of Peter’s hands, eyes… well almost everything.. swirled dizzyingly through my mind.

“Alright, good job you two. I’m calling a tie. Though (Y/N) did get best two out of three. So, Maximoff you stay. Gina. You’re up.”

My breath hitched in my throat. I stood frozen for a moment as I watched the golden goddess that was Gina stand up in the bench beside me as I made my way up to my seat.

“Um, excuse me?”

I looked up, her eyebrows rose expectantly down at me as I stood, blocking her way.

“Oh- oh, sorry.” I muttered, embarrassed. How long had I been standing there?

She passed by me as I made my way back to my seat. As I sat in my place, I watched her saunter down to the blue mats like some kind of Super Model. She made everything look like her own personal runway. Even the damn gym mats. I watched Peter, who straightened up as he stared at Gina… who flicked her hair perfectly behind her shoulder as she summoned a mesmerizing ball of psychic energy in her palm.

As they fought, I felt my heart quicken and slow… quicken and slow. They were gorgeous together. The way they dodged and moved graciously against each others powers. It was… beautiful.

“Got ya,” Peter smirked as he appeared behind Gina’s back, holding her hand in his. She turned her head to the side, smirking back at him before giving a yell and transferring her energy to her back- throwing him off of her as she prepared for his next attack. Peter stood up, smiled, and charged after her- but Gina’s hand came around his wrist before he could touch her. She pulled him forward, smiling at him as she blasted him with another energy boom. Peter caught on and began tripping her before she could grab him- something that selfishly made me smile. Logan caught me as I watched Peter continue on a streak of tripping patterns, and crossed his arms at me, raising a brow. I gave him a shrug him and crossed my own back as I turned to watch Gina struggle to dodge Peter’s trips.

After a while, Gina had figured him out, and brought him onto the floor again and again. “I win,” she cooed in her warm, honeyed voice as she held Peter down on the ground. Her long blonde locks brushing against his face as her body kneeled above him. I looked away, my heart paining slightly.

“Great job Gina. Peter- you’re out. Sidney, your turn, against Gina.”

As Peter made his way back to the bleachers, I smiled at him. He nodded, smiling back lightly before sitting down and turning his attention onto Gina’s new round. As we sat there, I peeked glances at him from the side of my eye as he watched her move. She fought in what looked more like a ballet than a fight. And it was beautiful. And she was beautiful. And he watched her being beautiful. And all I had was a new cassette tape.

“Come on,”

I looked up, Logan stood, walking before me as he adjusted his coat. I raised my brow and stared at him.

He stuck his hand out to me. “You didn’t spend hours searching for that dress for nothing did you?”

My heart swelled as I stared up at Logan. I couldn’t help the grin that spread across my face as I bared witness to this chivalry. Let alone that I sat on the receiving end of it. I laughed softly, gently placing my hand in his palm as he helped me out of the spot I thought I’d made myself comfortable in for the night.

“Will you join me for a dance Miss. (Y/L/N)?” he stared at me with a raise of his brow.

My heart warmed at the words. I gazed up at him, “I would be honored, Logan.”

He led me out to the floor, my arm linked in his. Student’s around us began eying us, scrutinizing me typically as I walked alongside Logan. Or, “Professor Logan” aka “The Wolverine,” as they’d come to know him. Many of the girls in my school… well.. I suppose understandably they thought differently of my relationship with him. It was easy to see but funny for me to admit that he was certainly the most handsome mutant, and man in general, a girl had ever seen. I’d walked in on him once as a group of female mutants crowded into his classroom after school, asking for “help” on their “restraining” skills. I teased him about it for months. It was all part of the sting… being close to Logan made it harder for my fellow classmates to get close to me. I don’t exactly know why. But a lot of the time, sadly, it really felt that it came down to jealousy. If they’d only spend five minutes with him they’d know how infuriating he could be.

Except for tonight. I could hardly contain my smile as Logan led us into the near center of the floor.

“Here’s a little ballad for all those lovebirds out there.”

I couldn’t help but huff a small laugh as I stared up at Logan, his eyes rolling as he brought his hands around me. My right hand outstretched in his left as he placed the other on my waist, my left hand coming to his shoulder softly.

They played “Blue Moon,” and I couldn’t help the tears that almost immediately pricked my eyes as Logan swayed us around the room.

Blue Moon

You saw me standing alone

Without a dream in my heart

Without a love of my own

Logan looked down at me, a soft smile crossing his features as he led us in a delicate waltz. I blinked up at him, my heart and eyes overflowing with gratefulness and love. I closed my eyes and softly pressed myself against his chest, listening to the voice of Ella Fitzgerald as she cooed soft, safe words around us.

You know just what I was there for

You heard me saying a prayer for

Someone I really could care for

I hugged him against me as we swayed there, dancing at our own pace. Two wanderers… two misfits enjoying a moment of comfort together. I felt my breath shake as Logan held me against him tenderly, dancing with me… something I never in a million years- with or without Logan, would happen to me. But here I was, in my closest person’s arms, dancing and smiling (and trying not to cry too hard). Simply happy.

Blue Moon

Now I'm no longer alone

Without a dream in my heart

Without a love of my own

“Hey.”

I looked up at him, into the softness of his expression. I wish I could freeze this moment forever. I felt so happy, so safe here. He stared at me for a moment before his hand came down to wipe a small tear from the side of my eye. I laughed, embarrassed. I jokingly rolled my eyes at myself, causing another tear to escape for Logan to catch.

“Stop crying, you’ll scare off Quiskster over there.” He smirked, glancing up and behind me. I blinked at him, my brow raising. Man, I really spent too much time with him. The eyebrow raise had become as much my habit as his own. He turned us so I could follow his gaze… and my heart skipped as I met who he was staring at. Peter stood at the end of the floor, watching us. His eyes glimmering in the starlit glow of the room as I swayed, staring directly across from him. Logan’s hands pulled back from around me, his hand taking mine gently as he led me towards Peter.

I felt my heart rise into my throat as he walked me closer and closer. I tried to pull back, “Logan, he’s with Gina,” I whispered up to him nervously as he stared down at me, confused.

He gestured with a nod to a group of kids at the other end of the floor, “So are they.” I look around him, watching as Gina sparked laughs throughout a group of boys over by the refreshment table. I raised my brow- dammit.

“Peter,” Logan suddenly spoke, snapping my attention back in front of me. I stared up at Peter a bit tentatively, who stared down at me brightly. His hands fiddling with a pair of headphones in his hands as he watched me, a soft grin crossing his features. Logan brought me forward, passing my hand to Peter’s as I stood there, internally screaming.

As Peter took my hand, his grin broke into a dazzling smile. I nearly fainted at the sight of it, but managed to smile back, feeling a blush rise heatedly onto my cheeks.

“Hey,” he smiled.

“Hey,” I giggled back.

“You two ‘gifted youngsters’ have fun,” Logan smirked before turning away. But quickly came back around, giving me a look before he turned to Peter. “You make her cry, and you’ll have hell to pay, you got it?”

Peter stared back at him, slightly fazed and suddenly uncharacteristically militant. “Yes sir,” he spoke, standing straight before him. Stomping away, Logan left us to ourselves then, a huge breath of relief leaving Peter’s chest following. I couldn’t help but laugh.

“Dude’s intense,” He joked as he stood before me. I nodded playfully. He stared at me, slightly shaking his head as I stood in front of him. My face, already flushed in nervousness began to flush even more.

“You�� look… beautiful.” He spoke slowly, staring me in the eyes. And quickly… I thought I saw… the flickered down to my lips. I bit my lip then, staring back at him.

“You look quite handsome yourself,” I spoke nervously, trying my best to keep my voice level as I stared at his awe striking features. I loved the way, especially, that his silver locks shone against the reflections of the starry lights. He smiled brightly before glancing down at the ground, his hand coming up behind his head for a moment before bringing it back down to his pocket. He was a star.

“You know, we never got to listen to the album, the cassette you got,” he pulled out the walkman and the headphones, and from his other pocket, another pair.

I looked down in surprise. “Two headphones?”

He nodded, plugging each set into some kind of double chord. “They made this thing- an ‘adapter.’ It lets you plug in two chords at the same time. I thought we could use it, you know, so we can get the full experience and… listen at the same time.”

I stared up at him, my stomach twisting as I nodded softly in agreement. “That’s awesome,” I breathed, smiling warmly. He watched me for a moment before offering me a set, which I accepted eagerly, quickly placing them over my ears as he pressed the play button on his silver walkman. My heart raced as the sounds of “The Wild Heart,” flowed through the soft orange ear pieces.

One so young... so changed

Should not be left alone

Two... in love... should confess

And not be left alone

I felt my heart swell as Stevie’s voice cooed magically from the small cassette that sat in Peter’s hand, floating between us. I could hardly keep myself from gasping… the lyrics were so revealing… it took all I had to not look up at him.

You've had time... come around

Will you please make up your mind

My heart jumped into my throat as I fidgeted with the chord hanging from my pair of headphones. Twisting and twirling around my fingers.

Make it easy for me

I been lonely baby

My fingers tangled in the chord, nervously I tried to undo them. I breathed in quickly as Peter’s hands came down to untangle the chord from me. I stared up at him, my heart thumping in my chest as the lyrics lingered so heart swelling and truthfully between us. Peter looked down at me. Stevie sang for us the words unsaid between us. Words I’d thought over and over in my head. Words I’d invalidated so many times over… when I thought Gina’s perfect future seeing self had claimed Peter’s love as her own.

I stared up at him, my legs trembling and my legs shaking as his hands suddenly came around my waist.

Fever goes higher what can you do?

He looked down on me, my heart nearly exploded from chest. My wild heart. And I couldn’t stand it any longer. I lifted myself onto my tip toes, wrapped my arm gently around his neck and brought him to me- but before I could make the move, his arms came around my waist, pressing me closer against him before pressing his lips to mine and kissing me softly at first, and then…. and then. My head spun as I hung there, my arms wrapped around his neck and my legs melting underneath me as his mouth took mine for the keeping.

Blame it on the angels

Where are the reasons

Don't blame it on our wild hearts

Wild heart wild heart wild heart

“Finally,” he breathed between kisses. His arms wrapping tighter around me as I looked up at him, blushing. I breathed, pulling him back down to me, not wanting the kiss to end there… not wanting to it to end ever. He shoved the walkman into his pocket, grabbing me and pulling me even closer, if that was even possible. His hand came up to my head, pulling my headphones down as his eyes stayed locked on mine. He took his own off then, slowly… a soft smile barely settling across his face as the world around us dizzied and blurred and we stayed trapped in our own world.

“You have no idea how long I’ve been waiting to do that.” He whispered, sending a wave of electricity through me.

I couldn’t help the bubbling joy that spread across my face as I stared back up at him. “Mm… I think I might.”

He smiled bashfully before glancing over to the dance floor. I nodded, handing him my headphones as we made our way to join the rest of the party. Our little world suddenly expanding across the starlit world. I quickly took a glance around the party, looking for Logan as Peter brought me into his arms. As the music started up, I looked back to Peter, my heart swelling at the was his gaze fell upon me. I felt an undeniably fervent blush rise to my cheeks, and tried to turn my face away from Peter’s observant eyes. His fingers only came under my chin then, turning me back towards him as a soft, content smile fell across his lips.

As we danced, I felt myself melt farther and farther into Peter’s arms… surprised at how easily… comfortable I felt in them. Almost, I thought, the same way I’d felt in Logan’s.

“What is it?” Peter spoke from above me, pressing his fingers gently on my back. I blinked up at him for a moment, surprised that he’d noticed my distractedness before I had. I smiled back at him.

“I was just thinking how… I.. never thought this would happen to me. This… dancing like this. With you.”

He smiled down at me playfully and no sooner, I’d found myself standing on the top of a hill, looking down at the tent where our dance took place… blue and gold lights swirling wildly within it as the moonlight shined all around me. I breathed in surprise, feeling the grassy earth underneath me as I stared up at Peter, dazed. His expression was bright and excited as he pulled out the headphones again, placing one on my head, the other on his. He brought me closer, putting the walkman in my hand before covering his own over it and bringing the magic box of melodies to sit intertwined between us.

“I think we need something better than Lou Gramm to commemorate our first dance,” he smiled as he pressed my thumb above the play button. The sounds of “Wild Heart” swirling between us… once again enclosing us in our own little world. My heart raced as I looked up at him, his feet swaying back and forth as nervous, heart-warming smiles passed between us.

As the song ended, Peter kissed me softly. My breath flew from my lungs again as I barely pulled back, and already found myself standing with him in the middle of the dance floor. I breathed a laugh as I looked up at him, grabbing his lapels to steady myself.

“Sorry- they started playing our favorite!”

I listened for a moment as the melody slowly grew around us, my eyes widening as I gasped, smiling up at him excitedly.

“I, I will be king,” he sang playfully, smiling down at me. “And you?” He grabbed my waist tenderly, “You will be Queen.”

I couldn’t help the free, joyful laugh that boomed from me. This was such an unreal feeling. Here I was all of a sudden with Peter, dancing and laughing amongst my own people...my family.

“We can be heroes, just for one day!” everyone sang around us. Peter pulled me into his arms, lifting me up and spinning me around as he shouted the words along with Bowie. I felt tears fall down my cheeks as my mouth began to sore from smiling. I jumped up and down, dancing with him, feeling my heart overflow with happiness.

“Hey!” Logan called over the noisy crowd of partying mutants. I turned around, smiling up at him brightly before throwing myself on him, giving him a big hug.

As I pulled back, I caught a wisp of red hair beside him, and turned to see Professor Jean standing by his side. My eyes widened in surprise before I turned back to Logan, raising my brows excitedly. “Professor Jean! You look stunning!” I spoke as I admired her gorgeous dress. Logan looked down at me, cautious of what might come out of my mouth no doubt. I quickly glanced back at him, raising my brow proudly. See, I told you she’d like the suit. He rolled his eyes.

“And you look dazzling,” she smiled, shooting me a wink as she glanced at Peter. “Surely Mr. Maximoff know’s he’s dancing with the prettiest girl in the room tonight.” I blushed as I looked up at Peter, who stared down at me bashfully. My heart flipped.

“Took you long enough, Quicky,” Logan teased then.

I rolled my eyes at him. “So, Jean, what do you think of Logan’s suit?”

323 notes · View notes

lukeysgirl · 8 years ago

Text

Relentless | Calum Hood Series Pt.14

Part F O U R T E E N

Request: Being the cousin of Ashton Irwin was exciting, especially when invited to their tour to hang out with his best friends. You found yourself becoming fond of Calum Hood, who finds you annoying from your constant appearance. But what would happen if you stopped giving him that attention?

Word Count: 3k+

A/N: this part is a lil spicy, so im sry if it kills ya heart ! but i swear itll get better, i promise it will ! im so happy you all enjoy it so much, it makes me smile so much! 100 notes please, loves xx

Parts: one, two, three, four, five, six, seven, eight, nine, ten, eleven, twelve, thirteen, fourteen, fifteen, sixteen, seventeen, eighteen, nineteen, twenty. [DONE]

I M A G I N E

Tokyo, 8:00 A.M.

The boys remained silent once you asked about Nia. Michael became more pale than he already is as all the boys were quick to lose their appetites. That made your heart beat go faster. You couldn’t help but feel super nervous over their reactions.

“W-well?” You asked desperately, looking over to your cousin in hopes that he’ll say something. But even Ashton couldn’t meet your eyes. “Guys, please don’t do this...”

“Nia is part of the band also signed with Capitol,” Luke chimed. You looked over at the blonde boy, studying his indirect gaze at you as you listened attentively.

“You mean from Hey Violet, right?” You furthered your interrogation.

“Mhm,” Luke hummed with a nod. “She’s the drummer, but does vocals as well.”

“But what’s her...” You began but trailed off, seeing Luke’s understanding of what you were asking.

“She got close to him for the last year now,” Luke admitted. “She’s got this huge crush on Calum, but I think he found her annoying as well. But not because he likes her or anythin.’ Like actually annoying.”

You giggled at this, but it still didn’t put you at ease. It was a little too much to be so overprotective when you just got with Calum, but you two have history. You and him have been in love with each other without the other knowing it. It felt like a challenge now knowing that you were to meet her soon.

“Did he... did they ever... you know...” You broke your words, pure discomfort in allowing them to escape your lips. “Do anything?”

Before Luke can continue, Michael patted his head gently.

“Ask Calum yourself, okay?” Michael spoke to you softly. You look up at him, seeing the usually hyperactive spirit become so mature at serious times. It always amazed you how big he grew. “It would be more appropriate to hear it from him than anyone else about it.”

“Okay then.” You still felt a little incomplete by everything. You didn’t want to feel so insecure as Calum was already yours and head over heels for you. Furthering that he didn’t even like Nia in return. But nonetheless, you can’t help but feel like something bad will happen once you get to America to meet the band.

“...In other news, One OK Rock is coming with us to America!” Ashton pipes, changing the subject to something more exciting. You smiled at that, genuinely excited to get to know the band more.

“We’re gonna have the best fucking time, mate!” Michael continued. “I was hoping that we could surprise the fans a bit by playing Take What You Want at one of our concerts soon since they’re our opening act.”

“I think that would make the fans go crazy,” you agreed with Michael’s idea wholeheartedly. While Michael was hype over your response, you watched as the suite door opened to allow a seemingly-distressed Calum back in.

“The management wants us to do a pop-up show in Nagoya,” Calum informed the boys. “So we’re leaving right now to make it over to Century Hall in time for soundcheck and what not. We have to tweet about it.”

“Okay.” The 3 boys filed out of the suite immediately, leaving you alone with Calum. You stood up, dusted your bottom off of potential dust, and began to clean up after the boys. Picking up the plates and cups, you begin to head to the kitchen until Calum halted you.

“Let me help you.” You watch as Calum lifts the weight of the ceramic plates from your arms and places them in the sink. He runs the water over them to remove residue and shuts it off, grabbing a paper towel to dry his hands. You watch as he returned in front of you and opens his arms in front of you. “Can I have a hug?”

“Oh-- of course!” You quickly replied, rushing into your boyfriends arms as he wrapped his arms around you. You felt warm, sinking into the kind embrace of your lovely boyfriend. You realize that acting so paranoid won’t help your relationship progress at all. So instead, you’ve just chosen to ignore it and bring it up if it ever is brought up. You want to enjoy the time you have with Calum before returning back to your studies.

“Are you sure you’re okay, love?” Calum mumbles against the top of your head, giving you a gentle kiss on your delicate head. One of his hands began weaving into your soft locks, giving you such a euphoric feeling of his touch. “I’m annoyed that you’re acting in a mood.”

“I told you this morning that I was tired, baby,” you said softly, the side of your face leaning against his chest cozily. You suddenly felt his heart beat go a bit rapid than before, having you wondering what had happened.

“You know, Y/N,” Calum began as he spoke against your head. “That’s the first time you’ve ever used ‘baby’ to address me.”

“Has it?” You asked, slightly shocked and embarrassed at this. “Are you sure? I’m pretty sure I have called you baby or babe before!”

“Probably, but you don’t use it that often!” Calum exclaims, pulling you off a bit to laugh at you. You blushed, giggling a bit yourself as you attempted to cover your face. “Baby, you’re so beautiful, don’t cover it up from me.”

“Nooo, I’m so embarrassed!” You squeal. “I’m still not used to dating you because it’s so weird and I never thought it would ever happen but it did so I’m still in a bit of shock and disbelief and I’m rambling now, aren’t I?”

“I’m glad I still make you nervous,” Calum said fondly. “It means that even though you have me, you’re still scared to do something wrong. You’re even afraid to use ‘baby’ even though you have the complete right to.”

“Shush already, bubba,” you groaned sheepishly, hugging yourself with your arms as Calum laughed at you again. But he quickly pulled you into a hug again and rested his chin on your head. You could feel and hear his heart slow down now, making you feel a bit more at ease.

“I’m glad you’re not mad at me or anything, bug.”

Nagoya, 11:58 P.M.

You and the 8 boys arrived at the stadium way before the concert even begins, allowing everybody to prepare at soundcheck. You all came by train, so it was an obvious that Calum had slept on you for the good 3 hours and you were wide awake to make sure he slept soundly without interruption. Now at the stadium, you watched from the front seats as One OK Rock prepared their instruments first.

“Have you heard anything from us, Y/N?” Taka asked politely as he began walking towards the front of the stage. The sun ray licked Taka’s pink hair perfectly as he sat down with his legs hanging off the stage. “Other than the song we sang last night together.”

“Unfortunately, no, I haven’t!” You said sheepishly. “I was gonna look up your stuff, but it seemed so embarrassing already because I’m now on tour with you guys as well!”

“It’s okay!” Taka tried, his tone threateningly cute for your own good. “But now that we’re here at soundcheck, I would hope that you could lend an ear.”

“I’ll lend both!” You quickly stabbed in the air. “Your vocals were amazing when you sang with the boys-- I’d love to hear you some more, Taka.”

“Mm, I’ve been practicing this song for a bit now,” Taka began, giving you a hopeful smile. “It’s not mine, but I am fond of it. I’ve been covering it and I might just be singing it during our set. Wanna hear it?”

Giving him a vigorous nod, he requests one of the workers to pass him an acoustic guitar. As he reaches up to grab it, you glance to your side to find Calum somewhat glare over. He was at the back of the stage, testing his bass on his own. But that didn’t keep him from paying attention to you.

“Okay, here we go...” Taka said slowly, giving you another quick smile before looking down at the guitar chords. He gives the strings a light rub before beginning to strum. “Can you hear, my heart beat? Tired of feeling, never enough. I close my eyes and tell myself that my dreams will come true...”

You couldn’t help but smile from how clean Taka’s voice was and his insane control over it. He played with passion, like the rest of the boys, with an amazing originality that seemed impossible to compare.

“Don't stop us now, the moment of truth--” His voice became more aggressive and strong, with veins popping from his neck. You could tell he was simply committed to singing. “We were born to make history. We'll make it happen, we'll turn it around. Yes, we were born to make history!”

“Yo!”

Taka suddenly stopped his music for you and him to turn and look over at Calum. His face was it’s usual resting bitch face as he held his long-strapped bass on him. He looked annoyed, which is a regular with Calum. But more annoyed at Taka more than anything.

“Stop impressing my girlfriend,” Calum mumbled. “It’s annoying and it’s pissing me off.” You always giggled at Calum’s bluntness. Although it was playful, considering Taka was a friend, Calum still couldn’t help his jealousy at all.

“Calm down, Hood,” Taka chuckled as he began to stand up and rush over to the Maori boy. He took off the guitar from his body and placed it on the stage in the center. He rushed over and gave Calum a big hug. “I love you!”

“I hate you,” Calum replied, having jokingly and half annoyed.

The management had been working them for hours in soundcheck. They desired flawless perfection, forcing them to ensure that all the mics would be ready, all the instruments were tuned to perfect, and Calum still had his lucky pick. This was also payback for the boys being careless regarding their flight over to Japan. But as they did, Calum kept receiving back to back calls and had to keep hanging up to the point where he simply shut it off.

“Y/N, baby, let me serenade you,” Calum began, shoving Taka off playfully as he grabbed the acoustic and walked down the stage. He sat down the way Taka did as he adjusted the guitar on his lap.

“Serenade me, aye?” You teased. “You gonna play Grind On Me for me, Cally?” You watched as your boyfriend frowned from the pet name you used.

“You are not using Cally as a cute pet name for me,” Calum growled.

“Awh, but it suits you so well!”

“No it doesn’t!” As Calum exclaimed, his phone slipped out of his pocket and dropped on the stage. As Calum bickered with you about the pet name, you couldn’t help but stare at his phone. It was off, but a series of calls have been disrupting Calum’s life. You couldn’t help but ponder...

Who was calling him?

6:35 P.M.

You stayed back stage with the boys as One OK Rock was delivering their set. You ensured to keep a good ear on their performance while still speaking with your boys. It was obviously that Taka and his band were very talented. They play perfectly in sync with Taka’s vocals so flexible. You were all in all very impressed.

“So I got the scab from the party last night...” The other 3 boys were discussing who knows what while Calum had snagged you aside to speak with you. The both of you were recapping the party and how Calum danced so sensually on you.

“You were off it, Calum!” You exclaimed. “I don’t even know how you were even able to dance like that in your skinny jeans!”

“Y/N, I wear them every day,” Calum chuckled as he watched another video of his grinding. “I’ve gotten used to them and just know how to be flexible in them.”

“But that’s not how it works!” Laughter and smiles were exchanged. This feels nice, you thought. Just happy vibes with your boyfriend made you feel more at ease about everything. It put your curiosity about Nia in a more settled state, allowing you to actually have a good time with the boy you love.

“Jesus, I really got deep in there, didn’t I--” Calum began as he pointed at his crotch grinding against yours. But the video was suddenly halted when a caller was coming in. You tilted your head a bit to see the caller ID.

Your heart froze to see the contact name.

“Who is Nia Lovelis?” You asked softly, studying Calum;s face as he looked down at his phone. He quickly ended the call and put his phone on ‘Do Not Disturb.’ He reluctantly looked over at you and gave you a simple, stern expression.

“Nobody,” Calum mutters quickly.

“She’s obviously somebody if she has your number and calls you,” you say with an annoyed tone. “Has she... is she the one who has been calling you over and over?”

“Doesn’t matter, it has nothing to do with you.”

“Yes it does, actually!”

“No it fucking doesn’t, Y/N!” Calum growled at you. “You have no reason to be jealous--”

“Who said that I was jealous?”

“Y/N, you’re retaliating over a girl calling me right now,” Calum said with an eye roll. “Of course you’re fucking jealous.”

“I’m not jealous of a girl I haven’t even met,” you spat. “You’re the one dodging my questions-- why would I be jealous of someone who you claim is ‘nobody?’”

“Because she’s another girl in my life, of course,” Calum said it with ‘isn’t it obvious?’ tone. “Everyone knows how girlfriends are about guys having friends who are girls.”

“Holy shit, Calum, I just want to know who she is!” You exclaimed, desperate for answers. This has been killing you since the morning, wishing he would just answer your question so you can be relieved. “I don’t mind you having girls as friends, I just want to know who Nia is!”

“But answer me first! Why the fuck do you care?” Calum yelled, having you taken aback by his strong tone. He raised his voice at you, having you fear that he was going to potentially hit you. You stayed quiet, looking at your boyfriend with horror in your eyes.

“Y/N, just tell me why the hell do you care?” Calum asked, his voice much lower but still filled with anger. His hands gently grabbed your shoulders, having him force you to stare into his eyes. His touch sent chills down your spine, but not of anticipation.

“Woah woah, calm yourself, Hood!” Ashton quickly came to your aid as he pulled you away from Calum. He stood in front of you, his hands shoving themselves in his pockets as he glanced back at you. “What’s going on?”

“She’s askin’ about Nia,” Calum responded for you. “I don’t even know why-- how could she even have heard about her anyways?” Calum then slowly realized, widening his eyes before looking back at you. “Did you look through my fucking phone?”

“Mate, you’re scarin’ her!” Michael quickly began, holding Calum’s shoulder. His chest was heaving quickly, but you weren’t noticing much. You kept your eyes on the floor, gazing distantly at it as Taka’s voice continued to ring through.

“Though,” Luke piped in. “It would make sense if she did when she asked us earlier about Nia...”

“Wait.” Calum looked like he wanted to explode. “Y/N asked about Nia? What the fuck-- what did you guys tell her?” Calum sounded like he was paranoid, almost pleadingly that the boys hadn’t uttered much to you.

“Y/N, did you even look through his phone?” Ashton began quietly, glancing back at you to see you nod your head no.

“I don’t even know the pass code...” you whispered truthfully, having Ashton turn back at the other boys.

“Y/N isn’t lying, you know,” Michael said softly. “She’d never lie to us. And I’m pretty sure as cousins, Ashton would know if she would be lying.” Ashton confirmed this with a nod, feeling a bit of relief knowing how close he keeps his blood in his heart.

“My cousin would never look through a phone that isn’t hers without consent...” Ashton murmurs. But you noticed how he tilted his head a bit, with his eyes a bit dim. “But how did you hear about Nia?”

“She could’ve Googled ‘Calum girlfriend’ or something,” Luke suggested. You knew he didn’t mean to interrogate you, but he just wanted to put out potential options.

“If she did that, she would’ve known about One OK Rock already,” Michael points out. And it’s true. You weren’t really stalkerish about the boy’s lives really. All you knew was that One Direction took them on their tour and they were finally signed to have their own tours. If you wanted to know any truth about rumors of the boys (if you cared enough), you would have asked your cousin himself. What would do you good to look into rumors about your childhood best friends?

“And Hey Violet.” Ashton added.

“Then, Y/N...” Calum began again, his voice a bit more calm and low than before. You didn’t dare meet his eyes, knowing that there were two flames in there ready to burst. “How do you know about Nia?”

You felt nervous, feeling like you were a bad girlfriend for stirring drama in the band. But, you couldn’t help and feel insecure again. Whoever this girl was could be trying to take Calum from you and you wouldn’t be able to do a single thing about it. You clenched your hands into fists, feeling your emotions build up and distribute themselves around your body. Tears flooded your eyes and streamed down your cheek very slowly.

“Because,” you choked, the words burning to get out. With shaky vocals, you let out a breath before speaking. “Calum said her name when he was falling asleep last night.”

yikes, im causing drama ! pls dont hate meee. let me know whatcha think right over here (please and thank you!) im so happy you guys love this series so much-- i hope it never ends!

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userlando · 8 years ago

Text

Baby Please (Ethan x Reader)

Summary: Based off of a prompt I found on tumblr: “you crouched down to coo at my baby but i forgot to tell you their favorite thing to do is to play with people’s hair and now they won’t let go of you” Word Count: 2,224 Warnings: Fluffiness. A/N: I realize this is weird since they’re 17, but let’s just pretend they’re a bit older in most of my fics and it’ll all be fine! Haha, hope you like this. Your feedback is golden. xx also ETHAN WITH BABIES.

The day started out fine. Sure, you had woken up with the sun shining in your face and that had annoyed you a bit, but it was after all your fault. You had crashed as soon as you had put Ruth to sleep; she had been fussy and refused to sleep so you had stayed up until 2 a.m. And somehow you had forgotten to pull the drapes closed, hence why woke up feeling like you were bathing in Satan's asscrack.

Ruth had been a bit fussy during breakfast, banging her tiny fists on the table whenever you tried to feed her the mushy babyfood. You tried everything, but apparently speaking gently, sounding like a train, a car or an airplane didn't work. She had even proceeded to pull on your hair to which you had flinched a bit, trying to pry her little hands open so she would let go of your hair.

She had developed that weird habit out of nowhere. Whenever people got close enough to her, she would grab onto their hair and hang onto her dear life. It was weird, but you always made sure to put your hair up in a ponytail or a bun whenever you were near her.

Your mother arrived not long after breakfast, to babysit your daughter while you went to work. It wasn't an easy thing to do, but as a single mother you had to work to provide for Ruthie and you refused to give her nothing but the best.

"I'm clocking out now, Ava!" You shouted into the kitchen, while untying your apron. You got rid of it and changed your comfy work slippers to a pair of sneakers. Sighing, you pulled your hairtie and let your hair fall down in soft curls around your shoulders.

"Alright, babe. See you tomorrow." You heard Ava's voice, her head sticking out from the doorway; smile warm and beautiful.

Sometimes you envied her. She was beautiful and guys were falling at her feet. You had witnessed it firsthand when you sometimes went out for drinks and guys were just buying her drink after drink. You weren't unattractive though, you looked good enough. But after being pregnant with Ruthie and having a limited time to hit the gym, you looked way more different than you did two years ago.

You let your mom go on with her evening as soon as she got home. She kissed your cheek, told you to be good and walked out the door. You scratched your head while walking over to the playpen in the livingroom. Ruthie was gurgling and making noises, fidgeting where she lay on her back. She squealed as she caught sight of you and you grinned.

"Hi baby! Hi sweetheart," Your voice turned high as it always did when you talked to her, or any baby for that matter. "How is my little girl doing?"

Ruth giggled as you picked her up, kissing her chubby cheeks noisily.

"You wanna take a trip to the shops, sweetie?" You continued talking to her, straightening up her yellow onesie while you walked over to the kitchen. "We don't have much in the fridge, I think..."

Opening the fridge only confirmed your suspicions and you sighed, looking at Ruthie with a wrinkled nose.

"Told you."

Ruth put her tiny hand on your face, gurgling in answer and you laughed.

* * *

"What do you think, Ruthie?" You asked her out loud, as if she would give you an answer. "Do you want mango or.. Yuck, prunes..."

You grimaced in disgust, knowing that prunes would probably anger her. You had made the mistake of feeding it to her once, and it had ended up all over the floor and your favorite shirt.

"Yeah, no. No prunes, right?" You mumbled, more to yourself, too distracted by the hundreds of flavors on the shelf. You had tasted more baby food than you could count on one hand, and you really understood Ruth’s dislike, because it didn’t taste too good. Maybe the mango and banana did, but that’s it.

You had gone through half of the groceries on your shopping list, when Ruthie started fussing. She hadn't had her afternoon nap and you cursed yourself for not letting her sleep before bringing her to the store.

And before you knew it, she started crying, screaming loudly while flailing her little arms around.

“Aw hey, baby. I know, I know." You muttered, unclasping the harness on the grocery cart. You picked her up and tried to comfort her, pressing kisses to her wet cheeks. "We'll be home soon, sweetheart."

You were bouncing her on your hip, shushing her gently when your eyes caught someone a few feet away. He was holding a box of cereal in his hands but his attention was on you. And holy shit was he handsome. His body was muscular, clad in sweats and a navy blue t-shirt that hugged him in all the right places. His face was kind of hidden under his cap, but you could see enough to know he was one attractive man with a killer jawline.

A small fist to your cheek startled you and you were brought back to reality. Ruthie had stopped crying and was now demanding your attention. She was sniffling and her cheeks were streaked with tears so you reached into the cart to fish out some tissues from your bag. This was, however not easy with your arms carrying her.

You grunted, frustrated, and opted to put Ruthie down on the cart seat. She wasn't having it though, whining angrily. You didn't want her to have another fit so you picked her up in your arms again.

"I have to dry your face, you little drama queen." You sighed, a gentle tone in your voice as you brushed her thin, brown hair from her forehead.

You freed one of your hands, balancing Ruth with one arm holding her against your hip, and struggled with the bag, huffing when it wouldn't co-operate with you.

"Can you just fu-" You caught yourself before you uttered out the rude word, glancing at Ruth to see her seemingly occupied with playing with your necklace around your throat. "Are you kidding me.."

The sound of someone clearing their throat from behind you made you stop with what you were doing. You flushed. Here you were struggling with your bag in front of the shelf, completely oblivious to you actually blocking the path.

You turned around, an apology on your tongue. It got stuck in your throat however, when your eyes met hazel ones. It was him, the hot guy who you'd caught staring at you earlier.

"I'm sorry, I'll move.." You muttered, your face flushing. "I just-- Uh, sorry." You turned around and put your free hand on the cart, pushing it with a little bit of effort.

"Hey, um.. No wait." The angelic voice made you stop moving, and you turned halfway, glancing questioningly at him. "I was just over there," He pointed to where he was standing before, continuing, "debating whether to get Captain Crunch or Cheerios since I really like them both." He was rambling. And it was adorable.

"Anyway," He cleared his throat, chuckling when he saw the look on your face. "I saw you struggling and I couldn't help but interfering. Do you need my help?"

You were a bit taken aback. He was incredibly attractive, way more attractive than the average guys who would hit on you. Not that you had guys line up to get your number, but the ones who would, would turn around the same way they came when they would find out that you were a single mother of a one year old. So yes, you were surprised that anyone remotely as good looking as him would even glance your way.

You shook your head subtly at your thoughts. He was offering to help you, not asking to be your husband, for Christ sake. Get your head out of the gutter, Y/N!

Ruthie hummed in her throat and that seemed to bring you back. The guy stared fondly at Ruth and you would usually get creeped out, but something told you that he wasn't a bad person. You could tell by how he was acting.

"Uh.." You broke the silence, "I'd really appreciate that. Thank you."

The man gave you a bright smile, "No problem. How can I be of service to you, ma'am?"

You couldn't help the laugh that escaped your lips when his happy smile turned into a teasing one. Was this man for real?

"Well, you can start off by telling me your name, Sir." You made sure to put on your best smile, fluttering your eyelashes.

He straightened up, eyes darting to your lips before settling on your eyes.

"It's Ethan." He laughed, "And yours?"

Ethan.

"Y/N." You answered and brought your hand up to your daughters head, stroking her hair gently with a fond smile on your lips. "And this is little Ruthie."

Ethan turned to Ruth, eyes soft as he took her in.

"Hi missy, it's so nice to meet you." He gently whispered, as if he was telling her a secret. Ruth gurgled in her throat, waving her hands as if to reach for him. He smiled. "Aren't you a beautiful one?"

The way he was looking at her made you weak in the knees. You'd never experienced this before. He was so gentle and loving towards her.

"She's a cutie, isn't she?" You asked him, distracted by how she seemed to take a liking towards him. Ethan glanced up from where he was slightly bent over from looking at Ruth.

"Takes after her mother," He hummed, eyes hypnotizing you as he stared at you from under his long lashes.

You couldn't help the redness that spread from your neck to your cheeks, grinning shyly.

"Thank you." You murmured, locking eyes with him.

And of course, Ruth had to go and break it off. She had somehow knocked off Ethan's cap and gotten a hold of his long-ish hair. He winced, laughing.

"Ruth!" You gasped, embarrassed that she would choose this moment to give in to her weird habits. You couldn't help but giggle as she held on for her dear life. "Oh my god, I'm so sorry."

You couldn't stop laughing, and Ethan snorted out a laugh. He couldn't help it, your laugh was insanely contagious and this whole situation was ridiculous. You tried to compose yourself, cheeks red as you fought to pry Ruth's hands off of Ethan's hair. She made a protesting noise but let go, unwillingly.

"Ruth," You chastised her, trying to sound stern but gentle enough so that she wouldn't cry again. "That's not very nice."

Ethan straightened up after having picked up his cap. He was laughing.

"She has a strong grip," He teased, turning to the infant. "Don't you, Ruth?"

You laughed, embarrassed. "I'm sorry, she has this weird thing with people's hair and pulling whenever she pleases."

Something flashed in Ethan's eyes and he smirked. You couldn't understand it at first, but then you realized how it had sounded and you flushed. You never seemed to think before you spoke.

"Ah, shut up!" You giggled and slapped his arm loosely. He burst out laughing and you couldn't help but laugh along. You covered Ruth's ear with your free hand jokingly, whispering, "Pervert."

Ethan pouted, placing his hand on his chest above his heart like you’d wounded him, "That hurts."

"Good." You giggled and walked around to the cart, kissing Ruth on the cheek lovingly before placing her on the seat. She didn't protest this time and you were relieved.

Ethan was watching your every move, head cocked to one side and his hands in his pockets. Something in your stomach lurched as you tried not to blush under his stare. You grabbed the handle of the shopping cart, biting your lip. This movement didn't go unnoticed by Ethan, his eyes darted to your lips and he licked his own unconsciously.

You smiled, clearing your throat. "Captain Crunch." You said.

He seemed to snap back to reality at your voice.

"What?"

"You were deciding between the cereals," You clarified, pointing at the cereal shelf on the opposite direction. "Captain Crunch is better."

Ethan smiled, "Captain Crunch it is."

You nodded, hesitating on whether you should stick around or not. You decided to go on with your list before Ruth started fussing again. And this was just too surreal to you; an attractive man flirting with you at the grocery store in the middle of the baby food shelves.

Ruth made a sound and you smiled, "Well, that's my que."

Ethan nodded understandingly.

"It was nice to meet you, Y/N." He said.

"You too, Ethan."

You both stood awkwardly looking at each other. What the hell were you supposed to do now? You wanted to desperately ask for his number but figured that he probably didn't want a struggling single mother in his life.

You turned around and began walking away, feeling disappointed at the fact that this was probably the last time you'd ever see him again. He had probably ruined any potential guy for you, because you'd probably spend the rest of your life comparing other guys to him.

"Y/N, wait!"

You stopped dead in your tracks, fighting off a smile as you turned around. Ethan jogged towards you, a light blush on the apples of his cheeks.

"I just can't let you go like this." He said and hesitated before continuing, "Can I see you again? Maybe for dinner or a coffee?"

You tried to fight off the huge grin that was creeping up on your face and tried to act nonchalant as you nodded.

"I'd love that."

Thank you guys so much for 200 followers, you are incredible xx

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