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Night And Day, America x Reader x 2P!America
Chapter Three
He reached a hand down to you, which you swatted away, still glaring up at him. You didn’t know what exactly he had meant by “fun” but one thing was for sure: you sure as hell did not want to find out.
“Get up.” He barked.
“No!” you shot back at him, trying to calm your trembling nerves, not letting him think he could intimidate you into giving him what he wanted.
“I said get up. Now!” he repeated. You looked up at him, affixing your eyes into the best glare you could manage, crossing your arms against your chest.
“I would prefer to stay here.” Without another word he bent down and, against your protest, grabbed you by the hair, yanking you to your feet. With his left hand firmly entangled in you (h/c) strands, he yanked your head back, forcing you to look up at him.
“You do what I say. Or you’ll regret it. Got it babe ,” he sneered, releasing your hair after giving it one more hard yank, for no real apparent reason. Your head throbbed at the force he used. You sighed in frustration before making your way back to the bedroom to think. He was right in one aspect. Al and Alfred were nothing alike, at all, from appearance, to behavior, all the way down to eating habits. Alfred was so sweet and goofy; Al was some kind of sadistic psychopath. But if this was the case, how did Alfred just magically transform into Al? People didn’t just drastically transform overnight…if they were…magically somehow the same person, calling the cops on Al would mean calling them on Alfred…but…your head throbbed, no matter what you did to try and make sense of the situation, it just didn’t seem logically possible.
Suddenly, you heard some sort of commotion from the other side of the bedroom door. Once it stopped, you walked over and tried the knob, but the door wouldn’t budge. He had trapped you inside, as if to assure you couldn’t escape. You looked to the window. Sure, you hand a little balcony…on the fifth or sixth floor, too high up to escape from there. This wasn’t a fairy tale, you weren’t Rapunzel, escaping via the balcony was out of the question. The nearest fire escape was too far of a jump to risk it.
“Perfect.” You muttered to yourself, angrily. “I’m trapped in here at the mercy of Mr. Psycho.” But the more you sat there, brooding, the more curious you became. Maybe looking though Alfred’s closet would lead you to some kind of clue as to why “Al” was terrorizing you. You crossed the room and opened the doors. At first, nothing seemed out of the ordinary, clothes, shoes, his stuffed Alien from when he was a little kid; it was just like any normal person’s closet. Then, you noticed a small cardboard file box in the corner. Carefully, you reached for it pulling it out before wiping away the thick layer of dust (and the occasional cobwebs) it had collected from sitting untouched so very long. Curiously, you lifted the lid, to reveal…some disappointingly normal things. A few faded toy planes, old coloring books, and some photo albums you assumed were filled with the cringe-worthy naked baby pictures almost every mother takes. You glanced back to the door. Well…while you were trapped, there was nothing better to do then to look at cute baby Alfred. But, when you opened the book albums…something was…strange.
Alfred looked normal in a few pictures, but one caught your eye. He was about seven years old, dressed as Captain America for Halloween, but he hadn’t yet put his mask on when his mother had snapped the picture, he stood by the mirror. The real Alfred in the photo was just a slightly pudgy young blonde boy with sparkling blue eyes, but in the mirror, was the blurred image of a gaunt-looking dark haired young boy of the same age, his crimson eyes affixed in a red glare.
You flipped through the album, finding a few more instances of the same thing, all in mirrors or other reflective surfaces. “But ho…” the sound of footsteps behind you chased away and thought you may have had. Al cleared his throat.
Busted.
Before you could even turn around, his strong hands seized your arm, there was a flash of silver and a sharp stinging sensation across your palm and down the edge of your wrist. The metallic scent of blood became apparent as the scarlet substance seeped out of your hand.
“That will learn you.” He said darkly. “If I catch you snooping again, it will be WORSE, GOT IT?” You nodded timidly in compliance before he pulled you to your feet. “Now let’s go clean this before you get your damn blood on my carpet.”
Chapter Three
He reached a hand down to you, which you swatted away, still glaring up at him. You didn’t know what exactly he had meant by “fun” but one thing was for sure: you sure as hell did not want to find out.
“Get up.” He barked.
“No!” you shot back at him, trying to calm your trembling nerves, not letting him think he could intimidate you into giving him what he wanted.
“I said get up. Now!” he repeated. You looked up at him, affixing your eyes into the best glare you could manage, crossing your arms against your chest.
“I would prefer to stay here.” Without another word he bent down and, against your protest, grabbed you by the hair, yanking you to your feet. With his left hand firmly entangled in you (h/c) strands, he yanked your head back, forcing you to look up at him.
“You do what I say. Or you’ll regret it. Got it babe ,” he sneered, releasing your hair after giving it one more hard yank, for no real apparent reason. Your head throbbed at the force he used. You sighed in frustration before making your way back to the bedroom to think. He was right in one aspect. Al and Alfred were nothing alike, at all, from appearance, to behavior, all the way down to eating habits. Alfred was so sweet and goofy; Al was some kind of sadistic psychopath. But if this was the case, how did Alfred just magically transform into Al? People didn’t just drastically transform overnight…if they were…magically somehow the same person, calling the cops on Al would mean calling them on Alfred…but…your head throbbed, no matter what you did to try and make sense of the situation, it just didn’t seem logically possible.
Suddenly, you heard some sort of commotion from the other side of the bedroom door. Once it stopped, you walked over and tried the knob, but the door wouldn’t budge. He had trapped you inside, as if to assure you couldn’t escape. You looked to the window. Sure, you hand a little balcony…on the fifth or sixth floor, too high up to escape from there. This wasn’t a fairy tale, you weren’t Rapunzel, escaping via the balcony was out of the question. The nearest fire escape was too far of a jump to risk it.
“Perfect.” You muttered to yourself, angrily. “I’m trapped in here at the mercy of Mr. Psycho.” But the more you sat there, brooding, the more curious you became. Maybe looking though Alfred’s closet would lead you to some kind of clue as to why “Al” was terrorizing you. You crossed the room and opened the doors. At first, nothing seemed out of the ordinary, clothes, shoes, his stuffed Alien from when he was a little kid; it was just like any normal person’s closet. Then, you noticed a small cardboard file box in the corner. Carefully, you reached for it pulling it out before wiping away the thick layer of dust (and the occasional cobwebs) it had collected from sitting untouched so very long. Curiously, you lifted the lid, to reveal…some disappointingly normal things. A few faded toy planes, old coloring books, and some photo albums you assumed were filled with the cringe-worthy naked baby pictures almost every mother takes. You glanced back to the door. Well…while you were trapped, there was nothing better to do then to look at cute baby Alfred. But, when you opened the book albums…something was…strange.
Alfred looked normal in a few pictures, but one caught your eye. He was about seven years old, dressed as Captain America for Halloween, but he hadn’t yet put his mask on when his mother had snapped the picture, he stood by the mirror. The real Alfred in the photo was just a slightly pudgy young blonde boy with sparkling blue eyes, but in the mirror, was the blurred image of a gaunt-looking dark haired young boy of the same age, his crimson eyes affixed in a red glare.
You flipped through the album, finding a few more instances of the same thing, all in mirrors or other reflective surfaces. “But ho…” the sound of footsteps behind you chased away and thought you may have had. Al cleared his throat.
Busted.
Before you could even turn around, his strong hands seized your arm, there was a flash of silver and a sharp stinging sensation across your palm and down the edge of your wrist. The metallic scent of blood became apparent as the scarlet substance seeped out of your hand.
“That will learn you.” He said darkly. “If I catch you snooping again, it will be WORSE, GOT IT?” You nodded timidly in compliance before he pulled you to your feet. “Now let’s go clean this before you get your damn blood on my carpet.”
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Chapter 3!
The comments and faves are much appreciated!
Searching for a good 2P America picture...at least until I have time to draw one up
Okay, so a little survey thing:
1. Continue? Yes? No?
2. If I were to put a lemon or two in this (possibly even three depending on if this gets really long...) would you read them? Or skip over them?
Pic found via Fanpop. If it's yours, just let me know
NEXT: [link]
Chapter 3!
The comments and faves are much appreciated!
Searching for a good 2P America picture...at least until I have time to draw one up
Okay, so a little survey thing:
1. Continue? Yes? No?
2. If I were to put a lemon or two in this (possibly even three depending on if this gets really long...) would you read them? Or skip over them?
Pic found via Fanpop. If it's yours, just let me know
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And do you mean teach in the last paragraph? It says learn...