#I GOT YOU THE CHANCE TO MAKE SUCH A SADDEST FIC EVER AND MAKE EVERYONE CRY | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

xactodreams · 8 months

Text

Supercorp Fic Recs

for the anon who asked me for fic recs—

first let me shamelessly self promote a fic a very dear friend of mine wrote, whom I collaborated with to format into an actual CatCo magazine. (that I totally printed out and got Katie to sign)

Her Brother's Keeper by ProfessorSpork

A CatCo Magazine exclusive by Kara Danvers Photos by James Olsen

Chapters: 3/3 Words: 7,910

(artwork is chapter 3)

Completed works I’ve read more than once

A Ribbon at a Time by abcooper After Lex Luthor defeated Superman, after the courts declared him innocent, after CADMUS rose to power, 16 year old Kara Danvers went into hiding. Five years later, a chance encounter with L-Corp CEO Lena Luthor throws her back into everything she's been running from.

Chapters: 5/5 Words: 27,929

We Need a New Song by uhpockuhlipz the ballet AU that's mostly not actually about ballet.

Chapters: 17/17 Words: 70,495

The Laws of Fate by sten06 A soulmate story with a twist. Lena has the ability to see the red string of fate, and the power to change it from one holder to another. She meets her match, after years of pining, but she's left having to make an agonizing decision.

Chapters: 7/7 Words: 85,760

Supergirl In Training by wtfoctagon Lena Luthor doesn't plan to have any kids. Or to get married, even, really. After the revelation that she is actually of Luthor blood after all, she's quite set on ending the family line with her and not taking the risk of any more drama.

Then Lorelai L. Danvers crashes into her life, claiming to be her seventeen year old daughter from the future.

Chapters: 19/19 Words: 71,381

listen closely and the stars will sing by celaenos Lena casts her mind around for the last time she felt this unmoored, this off-balance, by a woman, and can't come up with anything. Kara Danvers is unlike anybody that Lena has ever met; the sweetest, bubbliest person Lena’s yet to come across, and simultaneously one of the saddest, who is probably lying to everyone that she meets. It’s an impossible contradiction to wrap your head around, and Lena should probably stop hiding in this bathroom and trying.

(Or, Kara and Lena get parent-trapped into a relationship by a goofy little alien.)

Chapters: 14/14 Words: 118,667

The Fifth Wall by Black_Tea_and_Bones Kara goes to bed with Mon-El, and wakes up with Lena Luthor.

But it isn't Kara’s bed, and they’re not in Lena’s apartment, and that is definitely not their baby... Right?

Chapters: 29/29 Words: 109,273

Something Borrowed by janewithawhy Something old, something new, something borrowed, something blue. Three weddings and the two women who attend them.

Chapters: 3/3 Words: 49,473

An Ocean of Fire by IcarusAndHerSun Medieval AU

Kara Zor-El, princess of Krypton, was a prisoner – and she was scheduled to become a martyr.

Chapters: 47/47 Words: 139,568

leave tomorrow behind (series) by Jazzfordshire Kara is a sexless housewife in 1969, feeling trapped and not knowing why. But when mysterious, kind-hearted Lena Luthor moves in next door, hosting swinger’s parties but ignoring the men, Kara’s whole world shifts on its axis.

Works: 2 Words: 53,961

there's a big old moon shining down at night by Jazzfordshire Needing to get away from the stress of her job for a few months, Lena buys a summer lake house in the most remote town she can find. She fully intends on keeping to herself, resting, and interacting as little as possible with the local colour.

That is until her car breaks down, and the town mechanic happens to be the hottest woman she’s ever seen.

Chapters: 7/7 Words: 71,987

run the red out by searidings red daughter is dead, yes, but she's not gone. not really. kara (and lena) have to come to terms with what that means.

Chapters: 4/4 Words: 69,797

you and me (and you makes three) by searidings fourteen-year-old kara shows up in present-day lena's office. things go about as well as could be expected.

Chapters: 1/1 Words: 10,478

i'll be cleaning up bottles with you on new year's day by robie In which Kara is a whole entire idiot, Alex is a permanent mood, and Lena is just glad Kara is there for her, as her fake wife, while she recovers from another quarterly attempt on her life.

Chapters: 1/1 Words: 6,400

let all your damage damage me by searidings after the horror of the phantom zone, lena helps kara heal however she can.

Chapters: 1/1 Words: 25,169

WIPs I’m Currently Obsessed With

Evil by Marieke_things_dreams_and_stuff Following the 100th episode of Supergirl, Metallo Lena crosses universes and ends up at LuthorCorp, set on getting her revenge on Supergirl. Kara not only has to deal with someone trying to kill her again, she also has to explain to her best friend why and how her carbon-copy is walking around LuthorCorp, and has to keep her sister from actually killing the Other Lena.

And why is it easier to talk to the Other Lena who wants to kill her than it is to talk to her actual best friend?

Chapters: 14/15 Words: 168,305

Queen Of The Damned by JadedLover The medieval supercorp zombie AU

Chapters 9/10 Words: 51,236

Honorable Mentions

with the birds i'll share this lonely view by searidings something terrible happens at mount norquay. kara and lena have to try to pick up the pieces.

Chapters: 3/3 Words: 41,713

don't go slow 'cause you're gonna be someone by robie The Wedding Date AU, inspired by the movie

Chapters: 6/6 Words: 59,904

is it gravity (or are we fallin' in love?) by coffeeshib Kara isn’t dating. Lena isn’t dating. Kara and Lena try not dating each other. Even if the lines start to blur a little. Even if they do the most girlfriend things.

They won’t date.

They won’t.

Chapters: 13/13 Words: 151,305

The Power of Deliverance by sten06 Kara as Persephone and Lena as Hades ;)

Chapters: 12/12 Words: 178,370

pour me a drink by lunchables a celebrity/bartender au

Chapters: 24/24 Words: 277,261

#supergirl #supercorp #fic rec

140 notes · View notes

warrioreowynofrohan · 6 months

Note

Oh, the last section of chapter 1 of The Ashes At Thy Feet, with Elurin!

Yay! always glad to talk about this one!

Nimloth is, to me, one of the saddest characters to think about. Among Elf-Man or Peredhil marriages, she’s the only one to not share the fate of her spouse[1], and also the only one whose spouse dies permanently by violence (I’m not counting Beren, since Lúthien got him back). Beren and Lúthien both become mortal, Aragorn and Arwen become mortal, Eärendil and Elwing become immortal, Tuor is implied to have joined Idril in immortality and elfhood in the end. But Dior is mortal, the child or two mortals; he is killed and leaves the world, and Nimloth is torn from him, and with the melding of souls that characterizes Elven marriage I think it must feel like your spirit being ripped in two, and never restored after. That, and her own violent death, would be traumatic enough; but then her two young sons are also killed, not even quickly in battle (which would be horrible enough), but dying slow and lingering deaths of exposure, and she is dead and can do nothing to help them. It’s nightmarish, and I tgink it would be very hard for her to ever recover from it. The Valar, I think, wpuld see her pain and feel that her best or only chance of recovery could be if she was restored to life with her children; but, as seen in the fic, I think she would have trouble moving on from that moment, from needing the reassurance that her little boys are safe and with her (and Peredhil children grow up so fast for an Elf!); and so suddenly her children are gone again and these strange adults are claiming to be them. It would be extremely painful for everyone.

Eluréd and Elurín going to live with the Avari has been my headcanon for them ever since I started thinking about their postcanon fate. I don’t want them to die and be mortal - that’s simply too cruel to Nimloth on top of everything else, I don’t think she’d ever recover - but their place among Elves after rebirth would be very strange. They’re immortals who are defined by an atrocity committed against them while they were young children; the people who knew them or were part of the Doriathrim or were even aware of events in Middle-earth are instinctively going to think of that first, and/or of their heritage as descendants of Thingol and Lúthien and Beren, whenever they see them. Elwing’s an adult, she and Eärendil saved the world, she has achievements and identity beyond only what was done to her and who her family was. The twins need to make their own identity from scratch in Valinor rather than being defined by things they barely remember, and that’s why I think they’d feel the need to strike out on their own and live among people with no prior knowledge of them.

(A side headcanon is that, since Elves can influence their childrens’ appearance, Beren and Lúthien decided to acknowledge all the sides of their heritage through their children. Elurín is silver-haired and looks Sindar; Eluréd looks more Mannish than most elves, more heavily built and more squarish around the face, with brown hair. [The first time Finrod met him he exclaimed at how much like Beren he looked. There wasn’t a second conversation; like I saud, the twins don’t like being defined by their heritage and past.] Elwing takes after Lúthien, dark-haired and pale, but inherited Beren’s height; Lúthien was about seven feet tall, Elwing is a little over five feet.)

Moving on to Elrond - I don’t think he’d have known anything about the fate of Eluréd and Elurín from Elwing; he was only six years old during the Third Kinslaying and that’s not the kind of thing you tell to a child that young! And Maglor and Maedhros certainly wouldn’t have shared it unprompted, because it would be horrifying and terrifying.

“I am telling you this not to accuse you, but because you need to understand. You think you are resolving something that happened in the past. And for him, it may be so; for you, it may be so. But it is not the past here; not for us and not for others. It is still going on.”

This my clumsy attempt at paraphrasing a quote that I got from Ta-Nehisi Coates, but that was also quoted by Barack Obama and is originally from William Faulkner (whom I have not read): The past isn’t dead. It isn’t even past. I even considered using it as an epigraph for this chapter.

I spent a long time revising this section and trying to get it to express what I wanted:

He had been able, in Middle-earth, to view Maglor and Maedhros through a kind of double vision: to see, without one cancelling the other, the deeds for which they were justly hated and the people he had known, riven by grief and guilt. It had been a great gift, in later life; it had taught him compassion, and that the lines between good and evil were not drawn between people but through them.

The question of Did I live because you died?, with regard to Eluréd and Elurín, was brought to my mind because of the parallels and contrasts there. Maedhros is the one who looks for Eluréd and Elurín; Maglor doesn’t even try. Which raises the question of whether Maglor’s fosterage of Elrond and Elros came out of guilt at that former cicumstance (or, in part, an attempt to reawaken his brother to the person who had at least tried).

But such exchanges surrounded him. The pain of one, for the happiness of another; the injury of one, or of many, for the healing of another. His father’s exile, for the Noldor’s return. His mother’s suffering, to save her enemy because Elrond loved him. The pain of so many others, so their persecutor could have one more chance after all those he had thrown away.

Does mercy mean only that the innocent should suffer in place of the guilty?

That last line is the one that lies at the heart of the story. I think that, for a redemption fic about one or more Fëanoreans to be meaningful, it has to deal with the consequences of their actions beyond ‘they did bad things and people are angry at them’; it needs to acknowledge and pain and suffering they caused that are not merely past, but still ongoing. This is a big reason for the inclusion of Nimloth’s story in the form that it takes; the ability of Elves to return from the dead does not mean everything is healed and all better. There is anger from some characters at Maglor’s return; but to me the pain and the fear are a more important, and Elwing (including in near future chapters, if I can finally get them written) is a central character in that. Mercy does involve the innocent suffering at the expense of the guilty; mercy is inherently unfair; but passing through that can bring unforeseen blessings and healing for both.

I was absolutely delighted by your review of this chapter; if you have any other questions please ask!

[1] Apart from Mithrellas, but that appears to have not been a good marriage, so I doubt she was greatly cut up about it when her mortal husband died.

#tolkien #the silmarillion #fanfic #elrond #maglor #elwing #nimloth #elured #elurin #mercy #redemption #asks

15 notes · View notes

giggleeclown · 2 days

Text

A/N: well, I finally wrote it! I don’t have a t-blog of my own to post fics (I don’t think I’ll make one because I really don’t like how everything can be deleted from existence so easily) but I have a Wattpad I post to occasionally. I like submitting the fics to other blogs though, just so more people get the chance to read it. I always submit the link to the fic on Wattpad as well, so here you go: https://www.wattpad.com/1415162684?utm_source=ios&utm_medium=link&utm_content=share_writing&wp_page=create_writer&wp_uname=cutefluff177

I hope you enjoy!

VIVI’S RESPONSE: I’ve had this submission in my ask box for a long time, and I’ve read it SO MUCH. But I’ve been hesitant to post it because I love it so much. I didn’t want it to get drowned in any other asks or posts of mine too soon. This is such a fantastic submission, Nonnie. Thank you so much for sharing. I am just at a loss for words because of how articulate, natural, genuine and charming your writing is. Everything here is so canon and in character. Please don’t stop. Please submit more. Even better, make your own blog. It would get so much attention, I’d make sure it did. Thank you so much for trusting me with submitting your fanfiction and sharing it to everyone. It means *so much.* 💕

"Y O U D B E D E A D W H E R E Y O U S T A N D."

The human's eyes widened and appeared to water for a moment, and in that moment, Sans realized he'd gone too far. His intention was never to make the human feel bad. He wasn't sure what his intention was if he was being honest. Originally, he just wanted to give the human the full story. He'd figured the kid deserved to hear the truth from him, but spelling it out like that was never part of the plan.

His tone of voice, his vacant eyes, they had been almost involuntary. In a second he went from seeing the kind human in front of him to seeing the blood stained, evil face he'd seen in his dreams. He was originally just going to mention the promise he made, but the emotions that spilled over from everything made him slip up.

"Hey, lighten up bucko," He tried to reach out with a gentle, hopefully calming voice. "I was only joking."

They wiped at their face and got up from their chair. Without a word the human started walking away.

"Kid, wait!" He got up, reaching out to them.

"I thought we were friends." The smallest, saddest voice Sans had ever heard said. Oh no, he'd really messed up.

"W-we are!"

He was met with only silence as the human sniffled. Sans couldn't have felt more awful. It wasn't the kids fault he could sense alternate timelines. Those versions of the human had messed up, done awful things, and fought maliciously. Not this one. This kid had done virtually nothing wrong compared to those other timelines. How could he have let his emotions get the better of him like that, saying that to the human completely unprovoked? Sure, he wanted to be honest with the kid, but that didn't mean having to go and say something like that.

"I-I... Okay." Sans knew just 'sorry' wouldn't cut it. "I'll go pay for dinner. Can you wait outside for me?"

The human nodded their head.

"Alright, I'll give you a moment." With that he got up and made his way to the counter to pay their check. Meanwhile, the human walked past him and out the door.

Sans was only glad there was no one near them to see what he'd said to the poor kid. After he paid the giant blob fish and grabbed a bottle of ketchup to go he made his way to the entrance of the hotel. A few feet from the door sat the human, knees up and crouched, hiding their face.

"Thanks for waiting for me." He smiled, reaching out a hand. The human looked up for a moment and, hesitantly, decided to take it. Sans helped them stand up. "Do you want to go over to the courtyard? They have some benches we can talk at. No shortcuts required."

"O-okay." They stared up at him. He'd never really taken the time to look them in the eye until this moment. Before, he'd tried not to pay attention, mostly because it brought back painful memories to the nightmares he'd been having. Now that he really looked though, the eyes that looked up at him were completely different from what he was expecting. They were gentle, kind, not like the rage filled ones he'd seen in his dreams.

The two walked over to the bench next to a statue of Mettaton, surrounded by shrubs and bushes also in the shape of Mettaton.

"I'm sorry, kid. I've always been kind of a bonehead, but I really messed up." He gave a dry, humorless laugh.

"I just don't get it." The human shook their head. "Did I do something wrong? I get that I'm not like you guys, and humans have been really bad to you, but I thought I was doing good."

"No, you haven't done anything wrong." He assured the child. "I guess I'm the one that still has some biases."

They wiped at their face, a few tears still remaining. "I understand, you know." They said with a sudden seriousness. "I know what would have happened if that woman had never talked to you. It just never really sunk in that you might have... That you..."

"Hey, enough of that. I shouldn't have even brought it up in the first place."

"But it's true."

He sighed. He didn't like admitting it, but he was at a loss for words. No witty joke or comeback, no pun or sarcasm. Well, he wanted to be honest with the human for once, he might as well pass his judgment a little bit early.

"I've seen you, kid. You always try to do the right thing, even when monsters make it difficult for you. That doesn't make you completely innocent or naive, but you always kept a certain tenderness close to your heart." He handed the human a paper towel he'd grabbed on the way out for them to dry their tears.

They took it, wiping at their face, then crumbling it up and putting it in their pocket.

"Whatever might or might not have happened if things were different, I want you to know I'm glad things turned out this way."

The human took a breath and smiled. They really were resilient. Of course Sans already knew that, watching their every fight, but he'd never seen how quickly the human was able to bounce back emotionally. He didn't know much about their personality in general.

All this time the human had been so caught up in being kind to all the monsters they encountered, getting to know them, becoming friends with them, but Sans never extended the same courtesy back. Sure, he kept an eye out for them. He already knew they could just load their recent save file if something bad happened, but that didn't mean they couldn't feel the pain with every fight they lost. He'd mostly just checked to see what the human chose to do, all so he could pass judgment on them at the end of their journey, just like every other timeline of himself did. However, he never got to know the kid on a personal level, despite the time they had spent together.

"You know, you're a really tough kid. How old are you anyway?" He asked just before taking a swig of ketchup.

"I turned 8 a few weeks ago."

Sans nearly choked. He banged his fist against his chest, coughing and sputtering. Up until then he thought the kid was way older. Of course he had no idea what a human child was supposed to look like, or how tall they were supposed to be, but he never thought the kid was that young. Though, the standards between humans and monsters were a bit different. Some monsters could live hundreds of years, usually reaching adulthood much later in life than humans. To some monsters, 8 was practically still a toddler.

"Sans! Are you okay?"

"Yeah, just went down the wrong pipe." He lied as his coughing fit settled down. "Geez kid, you must be pretty tall for your age."

The human raised an eyebrow. "No, I'm pretty average. I think I am at least."

Wow. His knowledge on humans was worse than he thought. The kid had always seemed so mature, from how they talked to others, to how they treated everyone with empathy, and how they handled situations that even some adults would have trouble with. It was hard to believe that in other timelines, a human that age could be capable of everything they'd done.

"I think you're the first person that asked how old I was."

"Really?" He supposed he wasn't the only one that didn't really get to know the human more personally. Or at least the first to ask these questions.

"You know, no one down here has asked me what my name is." They sighed. "Everyone kind of just started calling me 'the human.'"

That couldn't be right. Not a single one of the monsters they'd met had asked their name? Although, thinking back on it, he'd never taken the time to ask himself. Even Papyrus chose to refer to them as 'the human'.

"Well, let me be the first to ask. What is your name?"

A long pause followed, as if they weren't actually expecting him to ask. "I'm Frisk."

"That's a cool name. Pleased to finally make your acquaintance." He held out his hand for Frisk to shake. They took it, only to hear a long, drawn out farting noise come from his hand. For some reason they were surprised, even though this was one of the first pranks Sans ever pulled on them. They gave a snort of laughter before covering their smile.

"Glad to see you haven't lost your sense of humor," he said with a wink.

"Do you carry that thing with you everywhere?"

"Hey, I'm always prepared for a comedy emergency. Just in case I need to cheer up a friend."

Frisk's smile was small, but it was a sign that Sans was winning them over.

"How come you never told anyone this stuff?" He continued. "Usually you're supposed to say your name when you introduce yourself."

"I- don't know," Frisk admitted. "I've never been good at that kind of stuff."

"You mean like talking to people?"

"Yeah." They turned their eyes away, seemingly shy about the fact.

"Well, you've done really well talking to monsters." He patted them on the shoulder.

Frisk's smile grew. "I guess I have. I never thought about it, but you guys just feel easy to talk to."

The kid really had grown during their journey. Sans felt a sense of pride looking at them. Though they were bruised and battered from the adventure so far, they never let it change who they were. Sans felt foolish for not trying to get to know them sooner, all because of some bad dreams. And what better way to bond with someone than telling them bad jokes?

"Hey kid, do you know how many beans are in a can?"

They thought for a moment, then shook their head no.

"239, any more and they'd be 'too farty'."

They broke out into giggles. "Too farty? That's so dumb."

"Yeah, that one's pretty silly." He chuckled.

Frisk took a breath to stop laughing. "You know, I stopped by the snail farm earlier and did the snail race. I tried taking off my snails shell to make it go faster, but it just made it more 'sluggish'."

Sans was the one to laugh this time, snickering into his hand. "Kid, that was so bad. I'm proud." It was reassuring to see just how quickly the kid bounced back. Maybe things weren't unsalvageable after all.

"I'm still sorry about what happened earlier," he sighed, "Is there anything I can do to make it up to you?"

Frisk considered it. "We could keep telling each other bad jokes."

He smiled, relief washing over him, both because Frisk was willing to forgive him, and because he loved telling these jokes. "Bud, you have no idea how happy that makes me."

They kicked their legs giddily. "Oh, I've got one! What is a pirate's favorite letter?"

"Pft, too easy kid. It's arrrrr."

"Nope. It's the C."

Sans face palmed and gave a huff of laughter. "You got me there."

Frisk beamed with pride. Sans never thought he would find someone else that was so proud of their bad puns. Well, other than his friend behind the ruin door.

"Okay, my turn." He continued. This was one of his favorite jokes to annoy Papyrus with, or at least get him to laugh. "How many tickles does it take to make an octopus laugh?"

They were oblivious to where Sans was going with this, even as he leaned just a tad bit closer.

"I don't know."

"Tentacles!" He suddenly poked at the humans side, and that was all it took to get a squeak out of them. "Oh?" He asked with a mischievous glint in his eye. "I guess it doesn't take nearly as many to get you to laugh."

Frisk giggled nervously and wrapped their arms around themself.

"I didn't know humans were ticklish. It's a good thing you didn't let anyone know, they could have been a tickle monster." He quipped.

"No way," they insisted, "there's no such thing as a tickle monster." As far as they had seen. There was still a large portion of the underground they hadn't gotten to explore. For all they knew, a tickle monster could very well be real.

"You want to bet?" Sans wiggled his fingers toward them. "Unfortunately for you, I'm the biggest tickle monster you'll ever meet."

The excited expression on Frisk's face reminded him of when his brother was little. He used to love playing tickle monster, and Sans remembered his giggles along with him halfheartedly swatting away his tickling hands. Frisk actually reminded him a lot of his brother. Both were kind and considerate, both were strong fighters but never had it in their heart to actually hurt anyone. The one main difference was that Frisk seemed to like his jokes.

"Nahaha, I don't believe you!" The human stubbornly shook their head.

"Oh, you don't, do you?" He teased, his hands drawing closer. "Well, I guess I'll just have to convince you!"

He finally skittered his fingers across the human's sides, causing them to flail their arms as they squealed.

"I guess I'm really tickling your funny bone, huh kid?" He grinned as he wiggled his fingers on their side. Frisk squirmed and swatted away the skeleton's hands.

"Sahahahans! It tickles!"

"Really?" He chucked. "I never would have guessed."

Frisk was a kicker, so much so that Sans had to back himself up a bit to avoid getting kicked. "Geez, are all humans this squirmy?" He tried to hide the amusement in his voice, but the endearing giggles coming from the human were hard to not find adorable.

"Nohohohoho! I'm nohohohohot!" They denied even as they were still flailing.

"You're not?" He teased, "Oh, I get it, you're not actually a human. You're a wiggly worm." He made sure Frisk saw his hands make claw-like motions before tickling at their sides again. The playful jester seemed to only make the tickling worse, as Frisk's laughter turned more high pitched. Though they shook their head back and forth, they made no real effort in pushing him away.

"Hey, I've got more jokes for ya." He said without skipping a beat. "Why can't you hear a pterodactyl go to the bathroom?"

Frisk was in no position to ask 'why', but that wouldn't stop them from trying. "Whahaha-why?"

"Because, the P is silent."

It was childish, but the silliness of the joke would have already been enough to make Frisk laugh. "Thahahahahats so- ahahAH!" Sans quickly shifted to tickling under their arms. They tried blocking the tickles, but found that they'd accidentally trapped Sans's hands in place. He hardly even needed to try tickling them, all he had to do was wiggle his fingers.

"Hey, I'm alright giving you a hand every now and then, but I'm going to need them back at some point." Papyrus used to fall for the same trap all the time. He could never lift his arms once Sans's hands had been trapped in place, making it all too easy to completely wreck him with tickles.

"Ihihits not my fault!" Frisk exclaimed through their fits of giggling. After a minute, they finally found the strength to lift their arms, and Sans took that as his que to change spots.

"Geez kid, I know these jokes are real rib ticklers, but come on." At that he switched to scribbling along their ribs, driving home the pun.

"SAHAHA-SANS! NOhohohoho!" They helplessly squirmed as he took time to individually tickle between each rib, another skill he'd picked up from his tickle fights with his brother. The human was certainly determined, but even they would need a break from the tickle monster eventually. Right on que, Frisk decided to tap out.

"Ohohohokay! Mehehehercy!" A call for mercy from Frisk meant it was serious. The kid had shown mercy to every monster they'd fought so far, Sans figured he should follow their example.

"Alright, I'll spare ya." He chuckled, releasing the giggling human from his clutches.

Frisk's laughing fit slowly subsided as they held their sides. "You were right, Sans. You are a real tickle monster!"

He grinned at the proclamation. Seems he hadn't lost his touch. It had been a while since he and his brother played that game, but now it felt as though no time had passed. He was still a big brother, that instinct never left him.

"Hey, can skeletons be ticklish too?" Frisk asked.

The grin on Sans face quickly dropped. Oh yeah, he'd forgotten that usually in their game, Papyrus would seek retaliation. He'd always let his brother get some revenge, it was just the principle of the game, but he'd also forgotten just how nerve wrecking the anticipation of being tickled could be.

"Uh, well you see-EEK"

Frisk hadn't actually tickled him yet, all they had done was get ready to poke his side. As soon as Sans even noticed the human was drawing close he flinched and yelped.

Frisk couldn't help but laugh. "Sans, I didn't even do anything."

"H-hey, buddy, l-let's talk about this," he nervously stammered, already guarding his sides.

"So, you're saying skeletons can be ticklish?"

"Nahahahaha! Frisk, whahahahait!" They just wiggled their fingers slightly closer to him.

"Come on, Sans, you said you wanted to make it up to me." Frisk smirked. "I'm the tickle human now!"

That smug kid. Of course they would play that card. He supposed it was only fair, since he was the one who initiated the game in the first place, but why did he have to be so ticklish? He had a knack for making people laugh with his jokes, but he was a bit more reserved when it came to his own laughter. He supposed laughing was another form of vulnerability, one others didn't get to see from him often.

Again, looking at Frisk he was reminded of his brother, eagerly awaiting taking some playful revenge. Papyrus was one of the few people he trusted getting close to, and despite his memories of humans from other timelines, he felt that same bond towards Frisk, like a new little sibling. As long as the kid was having fun, he supposed he could handle it.

At least he thought he could, before Frisk finally poked and prodded his stomach. "Pfft! Bahahaha! Wahah-wahahait! I wahahasnt ready!" How embarrassing. Frisk barely had to lift a finger and he was already a mess. He was hoping the human wouldn't realize that they could tickle his stomach, but that poke had sealed his fate.

"Ready or not, the tickle human is after you!" Frisk seemed to pounce as they scribbled across his torso. Sans couldn't hope to pretend it wasn't getting to him as his booming belly laughs filled the air.

It hardly made sense to Frisk how Sans had a belly in the first place. In their mind, a skeletons' clothes should hang around their bones, but it seemed like magic somehow gave his body a more physical form. They had no idea how that worked, but they were grateful for it. After all, it seemed to make him all the more ticklish.

"Wow, you're super ticklish!" The human exclaimed. "Are all skeletons like this, or are you just extra ticklish?"

"Stahahahap making fun of me!"

"Making fun of you?" they pretended to be offended. "I'm asking a real question."

"NAHAHAHAHAHA FRISK- NOHOHO!" He gawked as they suddenly kneaded his stomach.

"Do you mean no, all skeletons are this ticklish?" They suddenly scratch along his ribs, resulting in a yelp. "Or do you mean no, you're just that ticklish?"

Sans's deep belly laughs turned into snickering as he tried to respond. "No-nohohoho nohohohot either!" As he tried to catch his breath, a loud, unmistakable snort came from him.

Frisk didn't mean to laugh, but seeing the skeleton that was normally so composed be turned into a giggling, snorting mess was something they weren't expecting. "Skeletons can snort, too?"

"Ihihihi dohohohon't- nahahahahaha!" In trying to deny the fact that he could, in fact, snort, he left himself open to a sudden bombardment of kneading and scribbling on his belly. His clothes didn't seem to do much to lessen the ticklish shock, only sending him into even higher pitched laughter. Trying to block the human's hands, he fell to his side, allowing Frisk to tower over him and release their final tickle attack. They scratched and spidered everywhere they could reach. His sides, belly, ribs, nothing was safe as he could only throw his head back in laughter.

"AHAHAHALL RIHIHIHIGHT! I gihihihive, mehehehercy!" He gave in and grabbed hold of their hands, finally pushing them away. "Youhuhuhu little gremlin." His final giggling fit only gave way to more snorting, making Frisk laugh along with him.

They tried to giggle through an apology, unsuccessfully as they doubled over.

"You're a real menace, you know that?" Though Sans shook his head, he was still grinning.

"Saha-sorry, I didn't mean to push."

"Pft, please," He said as he sat up straight, "it takes more than that to take me down." The last thing he wanted was for the kid to think he couldn't handle something as silly as being tickled.

"Really? You seemed pretty ticklish to me. Way too ticklish!"

"Alright, alright," he nudged Frisk's shoulder playfully. "Ya got me, kid."

They kicked their legs in delight. "The tickle human wins!"

Sans patted the human's head. "Hee, looks like someone's fully cheered up."

He was glad the human was a pacifist, otherwise he might have been in trouble there. While he was reflecting, his watch suddenly rang out an alarm. Ah, his break was technically over. Though he didn't really care about going back to work, Frisk seemed to notice as they glanced over at the time.

Nodding their head, Frisk stood up. "I guess I need to get going. Alphys is probably wondering where I've been."

Even though Sans knew they would have to carry on with their journey eventually, he found himself not wanting to say goodbye. He knew Frisk would still have many trials to face, eventually leading them to their ultimate choice. Either they would defeat the king and get to go home, or they would give up their soul. Sans tried not to dwell on it too much, but it was hard not too when Frisk was right in front of him.

Maybe that's the real reason he didn't get to know the kid earlier. Getting attached would make it all the harder to let them go, and he wasn't sure if he was ready to lose something like that again. But the prophecy was already in motion. Even if he wanted to convince the kid to stay, like he'd attempted to do at the restaurant, they were too determined for their own good. As hard as it was, he would have to let the human return to their adventure.

When he turned to say his goodbyes, until he would inevitably meet the human again in the judgment hall, he found himself feeling different than he'd expected. Instead of sadness, there was a sense of hopefulness. Even though it seemed impossible, even if it really was impossible, somewhere in his heart he knew Frisk would make the right choice in the end, and they would be okay.

He stood up, a confident smile on his face. "Good luck, kiddo." Again, he held out his hand for Frisk to shake.

"I'm not falling for that a third time." Frisk rolled their eyes.

Sans dropped the whoopie cushion. "Eh, worth a shot." He winked.

Frisk giggled. "Bye Sans. I hope I see you again soon."

Sooner than they'd think, that's what Sans wanted to say. Instead he just gave a wave, then watched the human as they made their way back into the hotel, where they would continue their journey into the core.

It would be a tough road ahead, for both of them. But this newfound hope seemed to give him his own determination. No matter how this ended, he believed in Frisk, and he was glad he'd finally gotten the chance to know them.

#submission #undertickles #undertale tickle #submissions? to vivi? oh wow!!!#lee!frisk #ticklish!frisk!#ler!frisk #lee!sans #ticklish!sans #ler!sans #tk fic

2 notes · View notes

catboywrites · 4 months

Note

Hi cat! I saw that you had tumblr now so I'm going to use this opportunity to rant about your fics for a bit because I love them so much ❤ So, in the order that I read them:

1) Polaroids: I've been with this story since the first few chapters and I have to say you keep blowing my mind and getting better with each chapter. I love how you go back and forth between timelines and i love all the characters so so much. Polaroids James and Reg have a special place in my heart 💖 I also love that with each chapter i have more questions than answers haha (also, the last chapter was vile, just so you know)

2) sweet tea and energy drinks: i read the first chapter as soon as you posted it and the first thing I did when i finished it (after I was done screaming) was subscribe to the story because it was THAT good. You had me hooked from the start and I'm not complaining. I love the chapter where Remus knocks some sense into James and Sirius and every time baby Harry appears it gives me 5 years of life, he's precious and must be protected at all costs

3) watercolors: I have to say that l was apprehensive about reading the fic because of the tags and because I didn't know if it was gonna be for me, but i was like `they're an amazing writer so I'm gonna trust them` and tbh? Best decision of my life. This is by far the saddest (for me) and complex Regulus you've written and now I'm in love with him. I want to wrap him in a blanket and stop every bad think from happening to him (even if he wouldn't let me) so, now I have a new obsession (not that I complaining). I hope his relationship with the skittles blooms into something beautiful and he receives all the love he has been denied for so long in France ❤

Anyway, this is all to say that you're an amazing writer and I eat everything you write up like I've never read anything before you came 💖 so, thank you for such incredible stories

stop you're literally going to make me cry oh my god why are you so nice. this was such a sweet thing to wake up to, thank you so much!!

i'm so glad that you enjoy all of my stories and that you get something different out of all of them!! that's what's is so special to me, is having the people who can enjoy all of my works and then having the people who find their favorites within them as well! everyone has a different opinion and it's so fascinating to me as the author to see what works and what doesn't for each person and what they love most!

as for watercolors, thank you for giving it a chance! i know the tags can be a little scary, but i thought they were important so no one got blindsided by reg's backstory. it would be a disservice to anyone who wanted to read it to be blindsided by those topics if they weren't comfortable or safe with them. i want everyone who reads my stories to enjoy them, and giving my readers a heads up in exchange for someone possibly choosing not to read it is a sacrifice i am willing to make.

with that little ramble out of the way, thank you so much for reading my stories and enjoying them! it means more to me than you'll ever know!

#ask the cat

1 note · View note

teddyarabellapicker · 3 years

Text

The View From… The Top Bunk

Alex Turner x reader

Summary: You're on tour with the band and (Humbug!) Alex gets you alone on the bus while the rest of the band are out.

warnings: smut, cringey jokes from Matt, Nick, and Jamie

word count: 3.2k

-written for @indiee19 and her imagines book on wattpad, the fic is also up on her page ❤️

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The sound of the boys shuffling around the bus and chattering woke you up. You tried to nuzzle your head back into Alex's neck, but he wasn't there. You opened your eyes, seeing that Alex wasn't squeezed into the bunk with you. You groaned and forced yourself out of the bunk, eyes adjusting to the sudden ray of light that came through the windows.

You dug into yours and Alex's bag, grabbing one of his shirts and you walked to the bathroom, rubbing your eyes to try and help wake you up. Once you got there, you went in and brushed your hair and teeth, making yourself somewhat presentable, putting the shirt on over your bra that you slept in.

You used a hair tie on your wrist to tie it up so it didn't go past your shorts. You checked yourself in the mirror one last time and then walked out, turning off the light and walking to the small lounge at the back of the bus, seeing Alex and the rest of the band sitting on the sofa.

"Ahh, so the beast has awoken and come out of its cave," Matt said, eliciting a laugh from everyone.

"Fuck off, Matt," you said, still tired and half asleep. You walked over to Alex, sitting beside him and nuzzling your head into his neck, cuddling up to him and Alex wrapped his arms around you, holding you close, and lifted you chin so that he could kiss you. You could taste the last cigarette he had before you woke and you smelled his spicy cologne that you bought him for his birthday.

"Oh, no, we better leave before they start shagging," Jamie said, making a disgust face. You and Alex both held up your middle fingers at him, Nick and Matt laughing. Alex pulled away and you nuzzled back into Alex's neck, closing your eyes.

"You alright, princess?" Alex asked, kissing the top of your head.

"Yeah, just ... just a little tired," you said and yawned immediately after making Alex 'aww' in his head. You drifted off into your own world, not paying attention to anyone or what they were saying.

All you knew was that they were talking about what songs they would play on their set list for the gig later. You heard them say something about playing 'When the sun goes down,' 'Brianstorm,' and 'Teddy Picker' but that was about all you heard.

Thirty minutes went by and then the boys got up, including Alex, making you finally open your eyes when your head fell without his shoulder holding your head up.

"Where are you guys going?" you asked, sitting up completely.

"Oh, we're going to the sound check," Alex said, scratching the back of his neck. "Do you want to come?"

"Sure, just let me get properly dressed," you said and got up and went to yours and Alex's bag.

"Okay, we'll be outside, love," Alex said, walking outside with the rest of the band.

You reached the part of the bus where your bag was, reaching in it, grabbing some denim shorts and a t-shirt, putting on some shoes and the you walked outside, walking up behind Alex and scaring him. Matt, Nick, and Jamie laughed, Alex on the other hand, did not.

"Not funny," he said.

"Oh, come on, pull the stick out of your ass, it was funny and you know it," you replied, kissing him, making him smile, no longer being slightly mad.

"Okay, you're right. It was funny, princess," he said quietly, wrapping an arm around you, pulling you closer to his side. "We ready to go?" Alex asked the band.

"Yeah, Al. Let me go get Mark," Matt said, quickly telling Mark to come on and Mark grabbed his camera. You all got in the car, just barley enough room for all six of you. You were in between Alex and Jamie, Alex's fingers intertwined with your own. Jamie glanced over to you two and jokingly rolled his eyes and scoffed.

"You two better not snog in front of me," he joked. You and Alex laughed and Alex gave you a quick peck on the lips. Jamie made an over exaggerated disgusted face when Alex peppered your face with kisses, your lips, cheeks and forehead and everyone else laughed.

Alex stopped kissing you and laid his head down on your shoulder. "I love you, princess," he whispered, placing a chaste kiss to your jaw. You rested your head on top of his and you both sat in silence as everyone else talked the entire way there.

Once the car came to a halt at the venue they were playing at, everyone got out, Alex's hands grabbing yours and intertwining his fingers with yours, always desperate to touch you, whether it was by holding hand or laying beside you, he always liked to have some sort of physical contact with you.

You all walked into the venue they were playing at and you sat backstage while they did their sound check. Every now and then during the sound check Alex would look at you and when he stopped singing, he would blow you a kiss.

Even though it was their sound check, they still sounded amazing. Mark was filming them, no doubt for another installment of 'The View From...' videos that Matt was quite fond of doing and were also very fun to film. You laughed when Alex walked over to Jamie and did what you would describe as 'guitar fucking' where Alex was standing over Jamie and played their guitars and made weird faces at each other.

You were kind of sad whenever the sound check ended but you were also happy that you could kiss Alex finally. As soon as he sat down his guitar, he kissed you, his slightly chapped lips moving against your own.

Matt tapped on Alex's shoulder. "Okay, lovebirds, that's enough," he said. You and Alex pulled apart.

"Just because you're sad and single doesn't mean that you have to project onto us, Matt," Alex laughed. You couldn't help but laugh as well, Nick and Jamie joining in.

The show didn't start for another four hours so you all decided to play some games - throw the lime down the corridor, cards, but mostly throw the lime down the corridor, that made the hours go by fast.

You hadn't realized how close the time was to when the show was supposed to begin, after a while of playing the game, Alex grabbed you and pulled you into his dressing room.

"Alex," you squealed. He pushed you against the wall and instantly started kissing you, his hands traveling up your body to fondle your breasts through the material of your shirt and bra.

"Alex, stop, you have to be on stage in a few minutes," you said, pushing him away. You immediately missed the feeling of his lips against yours, but you didn't want to be the reason that he wasn't on stage in time.

He sighed and stepped back, grabbing the clothes he was going to perform in, quickly changing all the while you were watching him. Once he finished changing he ran his fingers through his hair, styling it in the mirror. You were jealous of how incredibly good his hair always looked, jealous of how soft and shiny and smooth it was, and how it rarely ever got tangled. His hair was better than yours could ever be, but you didn't mind because he was perfect.

"Do I look good, love?" Alex asked when he noticed you starring at him, chuckling lightly.

"You always look good, Al," you replied, Alex blushed at your compliment, always being an adorable, shy boy.

"Al, come on. We have to go on stage!" Matt yelled from outside his dressing room. You and Alex walked out, hand in hand. Alex grabbed his guitar and kissed you before going up on stage with everyone else.

Just like always, their show was amazing. The way Matt played the drums that made the songs, Alex's absolutely amazing vocals as well as Matt and Nick's backing vocals and Jamie occasionally messing up the cords, but still doing amazing. You couldn't help but sing along sometimes, though your voice didn't compare to Alex's whatsoever.

Your favourite song they played that night though was Do Me A Favour, though you were confused whenever Alex laughed during the saddest part of the song, but the confusion quickly went away when the drums and guitar kicked in.

Though you enjoyed the sound check, you enjoyed the show even more, and you loved the confidence that they all radiated, acting like the coolest people in the world, because they were. You loved hearing the crowd cheer for them - and you also loved the girls yelling at Alex.

"I love you, Alex!"

"You're amazing!"

"You're a fucking amazing singer!"

"Alright, everybody, it's time for us to go. We're gonna leave you with this one," Alex said, seeming sad himself. They started playing D Is For Dangerous, and you were glad they did, it was one of your favourite songs after all.

You got so into the song that you forgot that it was their last song of the night and you were sad whenever they stopped and said goodbye to the crowd. They all walked off stage, leaving their instruments on stage for the next night when they would be performing again.

You stood up and walked over to Alex, his face immediately lighting up when he saw you, grabbing your waist, kissing your temple.

"Did you enjoy the show, princess?" he asked. You nodded and told him that you absolutely loved it and couldn't wait for tomorrow nights show, certain that it would be even better than this one.

You saw the guys talking and wondered what they were talking about. They then walked over to you and Alex.

"So, we're going to out and eat, you guys wanna come?" Nick asked.

"Yeah, or do you guys want to go back to the bus all by yourselves?" Jamie added, him and Matt laughing. You rolled your eyes and Alex looked at you, then back at the guys.

"Nah, I think we'll go," he said, grabbing your hand, walking you to his dressing room to change, the rest of the guys doing the same. Alex wore the blue button up that you'd bought him for his birthday, he wore it every chance he got, it only being special because you had bought it and not anyone else. He quickly stepped into his black jeans and tugged them up, buttoning and zipping them.

You were on your phone most of the time, responding to messages from friends and family who were asking about the show. Alex saying your name snapped you out of your daze and you looked up at him, seeing his adorable, lazy grin that he only did when he was alone with you, not wanting to show it in public in fear of breaking his 'bad boy' persona that he had.

"You're so cute," you smiled, laughing when he made a weird face at you. You wished that he showed his playful and goofy side in public, you thought that his persona wasn't truthful to who he actually was - a shy, quiet, socially awkward, playful romantic boy.

"You ready?" Alex asked, holding his hand out for you to grab. You took his hand and he helped you stand up, grabbing his bag that had the clothes he performed in and you both walked out, leaving the building entirely, seeing the guys waiting for you two.

"You guys ready?" Matt asked, leaning on the car, Nick and Jamie getting in it along with Mark in the very back, Jamie sitting where he sat on the way to the venue.

"Yeah," you said. You and Alex then got into the car, sitting in the same spots as before, you in between Alex and Jamie, Alex beside the window.

The drive was full of singing, shitty jokes, and occasionally sneaky kisses between you and Alex. Nick and Jamie ended up arguing about witch soccer team was better and it was fairly funny, Matt even joined in. You couldn't help but laugh when they tried to bring Alex into the argument, though he quickly stopped that, saying that he didn't have a say in it.

You layed your head down on Alex's shoulder for the rest of the drive, holding hands, tuning out the stupid argument going on between the rest of the boys.

The car came to a halt at a restaurant, everyone getting out and walking inside, stopping in the entryway for the band to take a picture with a fan of theirs. You all then walked over to a podium where a waitress was standing.

"How many?" they asked, getting ready to pick up some menus.

"Uh ... six," Matt said, stopping for a moment to count up all of you.

"Okay, right this way," they said, picking up six menus, leading you all to a round table where you all took your seats. The seat beside you was empty, Alex sitting on the other side. The waitress left and soon after another waiter came to take your drink orders, bringing them out not long after.

It was a few more minutes until you all had decided what you were going to order and the waiter was quick to come back and take your orders, rushing it to the kitchen.

The boys somehow got back onto their argument on soccer, their bickering amusing, it was like they were children arguing about what superhero was the best which made it all the more better.

They seemed to be too into the argument to notice that Alex was now much closer to you, his hand rubbing up and down your thigh, brushing dangerously close to your clothed clit. You quickly grabbed his hand, reminding him that you were in public. He didn't seem to care though, continuing to rub your thigh, lightly brushing against your clit through the material of your shorts. You held back a gasp and grabbed his hand, pulling it away from you.

He glared at you, grabbing your hand, kissing it. You all talked until your food arrived at the table, though that didn't stop Alex from teasing you again. Whenever the guys were looking away from you two he would whisper dirty things in your ear.

"I can't wait till we get back to the bus."

"You look so hot right now, princess."

You knew that this was either him being horny as always, or it was his gig high that he hadn't shaken off yet. Your second thought was confirmed when he went back to rubbing you thigh, never wanting to do something like this in public, whispering in your ear. "When we get back to the bus, I'm going to fuck you up." That was it, you were gone, couldn't handle his teasing any longer.

"Please, Alex," you said quietly, begging him with your eyes. "As you wish, princess," he said, taking his hand off your thigh. "Hey, guys, I think we're gonna head back to the bus, she's not feeling really well," Alex lied, you playing along.

"Oh, okay, hope you feel better, love," Matt said, drinking his beer. "Thanks, Matt," you said softly, acting as if you were actually not well. You and Alex said your goodbyes to Jamie, Nick, and Mark and then left the restaurant, rushing to get to the bus.

You were both very eagar, more than you could've ever remembered, the ten minute walk taking a little less than five when you began to hurriedly get there, pushing past people so you could get there faster.

As soon as you both reached the bus and got in, Alex pushed you against the wall, attaching his slightly chapped lips to yours, moving in sync with one another. He bit down on your bottom lip, demanding entrance and you complied, his tongue easily fighting yours into submission. He was quick to rid you of your shirt, working on getting your pants off.

Once he rid you of your pants, leaving you in your bra and panties, he grabbed the underside of your thighs, signaling for you to jump, to which you did. He carried you to your shared bunk with him. You shuffled out of the rest of your garments before crawling into the top bunk, watching as Alex took off his own clothes, crawling in and laying over you, closing the curtain.

He wasn't in the mood to tease you anymore, too far gone just like yourself. He was quick to give his thick cock a few tugs before he nestled himself between your legs, slowly pushing in, head falling down on your shoulder when he bottomed out, the feeling of your walls stretching to fit his size too much for him.

He let you adjust to his size before starting to move, going slowly, setting a pace of his own liking, though it didn't last long, he couldn't take it anymore, his need to hear you moan for him growing immensely. And it didn't take long before you were a moaning mess for him, fingers knotting in his precious hair that you loved so much.

He began to place wet kisses on your neck, one of his hands coming in between your bodies to rub vigorously on your clit, his other hand the only thing holding all of his weight off of you. You knew that it wouldn't be long until you came undone, his thrusts getting faster and faster, but at the same time sloppier and it was obvious that he wasn't very far off either.

"A-Alex, I'm so close," you whimpered, voice trailing off into a moan as Alex had delivered a particularly hard thrust, hitting the spongey spot that made you see stars.

"Come for me, princess," he said, delivering one more hard thrust, flicking your clit, sending you over the edge, your own orgasm triggering Alex's, his hips stilling, his hot release spurting inside you.

His support arm gave out and he collapsed on top of you, panting heavily.

"God, I love you," he panted, the both of you coming down from your highs. "I love you too, Al," you responded.

All of a sudden, you heard the bus door open and heard Matt yell yours and Alex's name. You heard him walk over to the bunk and opened the curtain, quickly closing it when he saw you both.

"God, Al, you could've given me a warning," Matt said, walking away. "Jamie, Nick, don't look in their bunk. Trust me, you'll regret it," you heard Matt say in the small lounge room and Nick and Jamie's laughter echoed through the bus.

"Sorry," Alex yelled, pulling out of you with a sigh, the two of you shuffling so that you both could sleep comfortably in the very small bunk. "Goodnight, princess, I love you.

"I love you too, Al."

#the last shadow puppets #alex turner arctic monkeys #alex turner smut #alex turner #alex turner x reader #smut #alex turner fanfic #fanfic #arctic monkeys #am #humbug #humbug era

432 notes · View notes

mightysteelix · 2 years

Text

Attack Dogs

Yeah, people, this is the Maiser fic - with a taste of Baron on the side. I finally managed to craft his deck and playing it is so much fun that it gave me the boost to finish this fic. Because what better way is there to show that you love a character than writing a mass vore fic with him?

This is an AU where Maiser is Baron's partner, and their preferred method of clearing the goons who stand in their way is, well, vore. And when the Bloody Queen sends them on a big job, they have no choice but to pray their stomachs can handle it.

If it hasn't become clear enough,

CW: Same-size vore, Mass vore, Implied Digestion. Don't like, don't read.

Ah, good ole Rivayle. A dusty bowl in the middle of nowhere, the last rest of every crook from here ‘till the horizon. Land of scorching heat, gunpowder, and death. No hope, dear souls, no hope for no sinner. People shrivel up and die ’round every corner. That’s life in the slums. In the slums, don’t forget! The glided folks from Golden Hills are another breed. Luxurious little pests for the ever-greedy Titan who keeps the wallets fat and the leashes tight. If you can’t claw their way up to some safety—unless the big boss suddenly wants you dead—the choice is simple. You die or kill to take what you need to live.

Following until now? Good, now you can forget it. Because me and my partner—we will rock this world from the bottom. And all the above won’t matter. Not a single detail.

“Lost in thought, Maiser?” My partner—Baron, that old wolf—sighs. “Rest up that big brain, will ya? Don’t want to fry it from too much use.” His hands are firm on Val’s steering wheel; his stare is firm on the road. Sand and dust for miles, only one building to shake up the scenery. The Titan Icey’s garrison, in the middle of the road to Golden Hills. We’ve been poking in his side for ages. Now it’s time to strike big.

“No worries, Baron!” I laugh, tilting my trusty li’l hat to keep my eyes from the scorching sky blaze. “My mind’s sharper than a pack of needles!”

“Than needles? No way. Sharper than a haystack? Maybe.” He pulls Val’s brakes, and the wheels screech before stopping. “Remember the plan?”

I nod. We get in, deal with the patrols, then finish with the troops inside. Plant a mark on our backs and take the heat off our helper. She gathers her goons and stabs her co-Titan in the back. And when the dust settles over Icey’s corpse, we stab her.

Val’s parked away, and we go the last part on foot. Sneaky, sneaky, so that the guards don’t catch onto us. Two uniformed sticks stand before the door. Eh, we aren’t in for a big party. We need to raise some hell and make Icey keep us in mind.

“I take the one further; you deal with the nearby one.” Baron nods; we have a plan. Smirking, I whisper a quick “Accelerate.” Faster than a bullet, I dash to my target and grip his hands behind his back. The dust cloud hasn’t risen when he cries out.

“Do you know what are you doing?” Does he take their words with their freedom? If I got a penny whenever I heard that line, I could have long since retired at Golden Hills.

The man wiggles, trying to push himself free. His arms strain and he struggles to tear himself from my grasp. Mm, it’s always fun when they fight—when they still hope they’ve got the foggiest chance. And after they get it through their heads that they’re doomed and stop, I want to play them the saddest song on the world’s smallest violin. Not that I can play, but the thought counts, doesn’t it? ’Sides, it’s more than they have ever spared for other people.

He huffs, smashing his shoulders into my back. “Ouch!” They’re better trained than the street rats, that’s for sure. Take their firearms, and they become as docile as doggies. But not now, dear gods, no. No time for games; I gotta move fast.

“Better have some prayers prepared, bud.” I lean close and breathe into his neck. My grasp releases and he bolts forward, one hand reaching for his gun.

Mm, the struggle. Everyone’s doing their darnedest to survive, even those crooks. Man, it does give me hope for Rivayle. Too bad his future has run out. “Wrong choice.” I pincer his waist, his wrists pinned to his body, and raise him.

“It’s you!” he screams, horror drawing on his face. His useless struggles speed up.

“A smart one, aren’t you?” I take my last chance to gloat, digging fingers deeper into his skin. “Maiser and Baron, the big bad wolves of the West, coming here to clear the vermin. Our menu? You and your boss.” The hair sliding down my tongue is the worst part; so tasteless and thready. But I better gulp him down fast, or I’ll be hearing how the so great Icey will crush us.

His legs tremble and kick—he can’t move much more. Defiant to the end? Too bad it won’t save you, bud. Listen, if you were some lowlife street rat fighting his hardest to survive, I might have spared you. But Icey’s troops? Sorry, but you might as well be dead. Our helper’s not a gentle flower when she fights. Or ever.

The shoulders slide next, then the torso and the arms. He’s not struggling anymore; I must have crushed his spirit. Or he does believe his boss’s gonna avenge him. No matter—without the extra trouble, I gobble him quickly, slurping his legs. My belly’s bulging out, round and firm like a cannonball. It feels tight, stretched to fit Icey’s goon. Doesn’t hurt at all, though, and it’s still nothing too big. My shirt’s pressing it into some shape, it along with my pants.

Good think Baron’s been taking me on practice runs so often. I’m a big eater, no lie there—gotta be with our line of work and methods—but Baron’s a wildly different beast. ‘Spurred On’ doesn’t take him as a customer anymore—not after he almost cleared them out of food and business, then tried to finish the meal with one arguing patron.

“How was lunch?” Baron asks. “Took your sweet time, huh?”

“We aren’t all bottomless wells, bud.” Baron’s belly has rounded out, the firm ball visible on his much lankier figure. I swear, where does he pack those calories? He says it goes to his magic, the lair, but I’m eating less, and I’m still growing a tad pudgy. “What’s your secret?”

“Ages of practice, long before we met. You’ll catch up one day.” He walks to the door, his packed belly dragging him forward. “Going in?”

“Going in,” I nod.

The door opens wide but not as wide as my mouth. A swarm of flies could fly in with no trouble for their effort. “Hey, Baron.” I tug the fringes of his sleeves. “Didn’t Nath say to expect a private party?” The mother of all headaches crashes into my brain, pointier than a bullet to the forehead.

Troops swarm inside the stone nest’s hallway, each one armed to the teeth. Hands are firm on the hostlers; one wrong movement and the place will explode faster than a gunpowder chest thrown in a bonfire. My poor stomach grumbles; it knows what this means. Sorry bud, work won’t go as smoothly as planned. But does it ever?

“You still trust the Bloody Queen?” Baron asks, his expression deader than a body six feet under. “She’s gonna help us, but she’s never making it easy. Told you to bring your appetite.” Man, sometimes I envy you. How you can take such shocks and not flinch an inch, I’ll never understand.

“You know me.” I lick my lips, my hollow confidence flicked on and gleaming. “Good ole trusty Maiser, accepts any word as the gospel.” Once you stop having faith in the world, it stops having faith in you. Why then leave the bed and go do good?

“I don’t know how a fool like you is still kicking. Maybe your handsome face keeps you alive.”

“Stop it, bud, you’ll make me blush.” Not fair, man, not fair. You can wax poetic about the charming me, but I’ve never seen your pretty smile without the magic fog over it. I wish Nath would tell me what she finds when she breaks the spell, but she’s more tight-lipped than both of us. And speaking of magic: “Don’t you think the goons should have already blasted us full of holes?”

“They can’t kill what they don’t see. We’re the Specter of Rivayle. No one catches us unless we want it.” His lips curl into a smile. “You won’t get to play with them, but with so many partners, it’s better to dance in the shadows.”

Oh, you’ve hidden us from them. Great job, man, but the next time a little warning would be nice. My head always feels like splitting open when you do your spells. “Business before the joy, huh?” I whistle quietly, pleading with my eyes.

“Staying alive before the joy.”

Oh, I almost believe you. But you’re right; we can’t go belly up and let Icey and Nath walk off free. Someone must bring Their Haughtinesses down. Still, it doesn’t sit well in my stomach. If I stuff myself beyond bursting, I’ll need my stress relief. “What about the last few?”

I know, I know, partner. I’m unbelievable. No need for the sighing routine.

“If you can lift your huge gut off the ground by the end, you can play your Big Bad Wolf show.” The foggy smile twists in a smirk. “Care trying your best?”

“When am I not?” I clasp hands. “Let’s dance, partner!”

Baron throws himself down the main lobby, and I sneak into a hallway. Accelerating, I grip the closest goon. She tenses when two arms coil around her, and her mouth goes down my throat before she can scream. No trace of her but the growing bulge ‘round my waist. Man, I hate it when we’re rushing the job. It’s much better when it goes nice and slow, giving them a chance to sink in their horror before we swallow them. Not to sound like Nath, but fear? Fear’s fun. Yeah, I’m a wretch like the Queen; that’s what I am. Why else would I go down the outlaw’s road?

It’s time for the next sweet meal. Good thing my “Accelerate” dulls the pain when I move; otherwise, I’d be a cramping mess on the floor. The two victims wiggle all over my poor, taxed stomach, and each squirm makes me wobble on my legs. Ugh, not good when I need to jump from ambush. Baron, partner, I pray you’re having better luck!

At least fate’s smiling. I catch solitary goons patrolling around. If I had to devour an entire group, the first victim still kicking when I start the next… My stomach groans. No worries, bud, I’d never put myself through that hell. Not unless they can see me and scram, try to run only to end as the hungry outlaw’s meal.

Hey, now that’s an idea! Might finally let me outeat Baron; the old wolf’s always beating me and has the gut to prove it.

Not that I’m doing too shabby now, not at all. The gulps go down more slowly than before, not as impatient. I’m doing my best to finish quickly, swallow the troops before anyone catches us and brings Icey’s wrath too early. But damn it if it’s not difficult with a large, sloshy gut that wobbles on each step. And the more goons I take care of, the worse it gets. My poor belly spills forward, the skin creaking, and I can almost hear it splitting open.

I’m looking like a caricature: a slim body, a gut as gigantic as a barrel, and a still-munching mouth. My belly rolls forward just under my chest, a giant sack filled with all kinds of squirming meals. Gods, it’s hurting, but in such a good way!

I smack my lips as I waddle to the next door. That’s the way, Maiser! Let the gluttony take over. ‘Sides, once you deal with the troops, you can have your fun and play with the food as you love it. Indulge the hunger, devour the cowering bastards, and make a damn splendid show for a finish.

And I’ve found the next one, quickly gulping him. Pop, pop, pop! There go my buttons, snapping one after another. My growing gut explodes out of the tight vest, sloshing low towards my knees. The buckle pushes into it, pressing more sharply than a knife. Whenever I move, my belly digs into it, and the tender skin hurts like hell on earth. But there’s no time to complain! I’ve got to grit my teeth and finish the job. Don’t fear, Maiser; you’ll manage. Just think about how many people you will find, how your stomach will grow, how you will get nice and full. How your belt might as well blast off any moment now.

What’s worse, the prey keeps wiggling. “Guys,” I scream, “hasn’t your classy boss taught you any manners? If you don’t stop-Ugh!” My cheeks turn greener than seaweed; my face is wet with sweaty effort. Whoever has said eating is easy, I’ll devour them whole. It’s a chore, the most tiring chore of them all. But not without its joys.

My hands slide across my belly, hefting its spilling bulk. Can’t walk otherwise, not when my massive weight drags me forward. One wrong move and I’d be crashing on the ground. Sick gurgles are coming from my middle—consequences of the heavy meal. Each uneven, heavy step makes me sick to the core. I waddle widely, swinging like a pendulum: left, right; left, right. And the prey doesn’t stop kicking, not for a moment.

“Won’t y’all stop already? Guys, it’s impressive how tough you are, but I’m working here!” I slap the tight drum, hoping they’ll quieten a little. Just the opposite; the goons fight more lively, their elbows and knees smashing into my belly walls. Kicks and punches thrash inside me, struggling for a way out. I press a hand to my lips, stifling a groan, and lean on the wall. Baron will forgive a quick rest this one time, won’t he? For all his big talks of evilness, he’s a softie when you get to his heart.

A softie that will shoot you dead before you blink, but still a softie.

The wall squirms when I rest my weight onto it. No blame; I’d have cried, too, if someone that heavy pressed onto me. Maybe my eyes were bigger than my stomach this time. Now I’m enormous, larger than any ball I’ve ever seen. Can’t believe I’ve gotten so large without popping. If I fall now, I won’t stand up, not until my taxed stomach finishes digesting this.

How’s poor Baron handling this? I click my tongue, rubbing my belly. Why am I worrying; he must have guzzled his way through the entire garrison. That man’s putting the glut in gluttony. Don’t think he’s ever complained that he’s full, only that he’s hungry. A bottomless pit, that’s what he is.

Not that I’m dragging behind him. The practice’s paying off; people aren’t calling me the Big Bad Wolf of the West for nothing! Just gotta pace myself, that’s all. I make my first step: my gargantuan belly must have rested enough—

“Ouch!” Suppose not. But I can’t idle while Baron’s glutting himself. I already hear his mocking voice: “Did as good as you can, Maiser.” Nope, never again! He can’t push himself for my sake all the time. We’re a team—we split everything.

My walk slows down. I stop, groan, and rub my belly every few seconds, soothing the poor beast. Its gurgles even a bit, not as loud and sick; it purrs like a content, fed animal. No one’s squirming inside me anymore, but my gut’s so darn heavy that I don’t wanna move a muscle. Pain jabs my sides whenever one foot goes before the other. Thank my lucky star no one’s around to catch me; my headache’s disappearing, so Baron’s magic is wearing off. Has he focused on eating and forgotten the good ole me?

Then I’ve got to deal with the vermin myself. There aren’t more goons left here, are they?

I reach the end of the hall. Good news: not a single troop left on this floor. Bad news: there’s one upstairs. My gut roars, and a jolt of ache sears through it. Why did it have to be climbing? A long walk I’d have survived, but steep, uneven stairs, where one Accelerate will crash me through?

“Nah, Maiser—” I shake my head “—you can handle this. No worse than being shot.”

I take the first step. Oh, I was so wrong. My bulky belly drags me down. Not only does it hurt, but the sloshing mass inside throws me off balance whenever I move. My legs rise higher, my knees press into the taut mass and compress it. A sound after a revolted sound comes out of its depths. I’m panting, one hand rubbing my head and the other my middle. Almost there, Maiser, keep it calm. The rotten wood creaks and croaks under my stumbling. My feet crunch, hoping to grip the floor. If I fall, my gut’s rolling all the way to Rivayle.

“Finally-hic! over!” Huffing and puffing, red all over, I reach the second floor and pat my belly. Gods, I am such a pig—to be so stuffed that I can’t move. I tenderly lick my lips. It’s not bad when Baron’s tending for me after a job, his swollen belly pressing into mine: more than we, the crooks, deserve.

But here, where one wrong step might end with a hailstorm of bullets? No, thanks, I’d rather be my nimble self.

Gunshots come from a nearby room, bullets piercing through the sticky fog. My rest is over; Baron has gotten himself into a gunfight! The troops can’t match him—they could never, but if he’s in poor condition like me, he’d need every bit of help.

Walking stuffed is hell, but running? That’s the devil himself. My gut wobbles left and right, hurting as if someone’s been poking it with knives all day. I press my navel, rustle my belly, and hunch forward. Moment, please, Baron, till I catch my breath! More pressure collapses onto my stomach, and it lurches over the belt, my entire weight resting on the stubborn buckle. Gah, if I must gulp one more of Icey’s troops…

By the time I open the door, they have danced the dance. Smug as hell, Baron’s leaning on the wall, patting his gut and panting like a sick dog. The goon is sitting in the middle of the room, bound and gagged.

“Finished your part?” My partner smirks through the sickly huffs. “Got sidetracked helping a lady cross the street?”

I don’t reply. My mouth is stuck open, and my eyes are glued to Baron’s hefty belly. Every goon I’ve missed, he must have guzzled. His coat and vest split open, pieces of fabric clinging over his shoulders. His shirt’s ridden up to his chest, showing his stretched middle. The belt is undone under the fleshy dome, the buckle’s place marked. His skin screams in red, taut over the bloated stomach, and bumps form and disappear across the rough surface. The goons are fighting to get out. But good ole Baron doesn’t as much as flinch, only rubbing the huge ball gut.

He’s immense, outlandishly huge—and if not for the danger, I’d have rushed over there to rub his belly.

“I’ve paced myself, Baron,” I say when my breath comes back to me. “Unlike your bottomless mouth. So—” my eyes focus on the captured goon “—what’s his deal? The Bloody Queen fancies interrogating the poor fella herself?”

My partner smacks the fleshy sphere, quelling the noisy prey. “She’ll find ‘nother plaything. This one’s all yours—a chance to play the evil predator.”

A slow gulp slips down my throat. My stomach will hurl if I as much as step the wrong way. I must look like a wretched balloon, set on popping. “Thanks, Bar. But this—” I pant, almost moaning “—is too much.” Red colors my cheeks, and I blush like a lady in love. “One bite and I’ll explode.” But I want it. To gulp down the goon. Won’t hurt that much, will it? I might have the room to fit him inside me. ‘Sides, how will I beat Baron without practice?

“Don’t worry.” My partner flashes me a smile—gentle, not like the grins he throws like bullets in battles. “No one’s sounded the alarm, and the next shift won’t be coming ‘til after three days. We’ve got plenty time to rest before we need to ditch this place.”

My stomach protests with a sick growl. “Sorry, bud.” I pat it and lick my lips. “But if I don’t push myself, Baron’s sure to leave me in the dust. From now on, I’m doing my best.”

I stagger towards the goon, my steps echoing over the flimsy wood. One stronger push and my weight might break the boards. “As for you, pal,” I say, squashing down the pain, “did you think yourself a lucky lamb? That the Big Bad Wolves of the West have spared you?” My arms unsteadily reach for his shoulders. “Too sad because your fortune’s just ended.” His legs wiggle, his torso shakes like a leaf, and he tries to shove himself away.

Sweat breaks on his head as I approach. I am slow, staggering, and he hopes to escape somehow. Too good to be the truth, pal, too good to be the truth. “Accelerate.” A moment flicks, and my hands clasp around his body, pressing him into my gut: where he’s ending soon. The goon whimpers, begging for his life. “Sorry,” I whisper into his neck, my voice almost animalistic. “We’re no church. There’s no mercy here.”

We’re just beasts, aren’t we? Nath’s finest attack dogs, the ones who do work too dirty for the Queen and too difficult for her usual bunch. I do feel wild when I’m forcing victims down my throat, gulping shaking heads, and twisting shoulders.

The goon’s head and neck are reaching my stomach, the enormous meal making it stretch. My girth presses forward, forcing its mass on the belt. It hurts like hell, but I push myself to finish the goon, stomach groaning in protest. The belt’s prong creaks and the leather stretches.

Soon, the prey’s gone to his waist in me. His head and neck reach my stomach. Each constriction of my neck slides him down, rounding me out like a blimp. One hand moves down to rub the growing mass. The other reaches lower, lingering on the belt. It’s trashing more than Mr. Goon in my mouth. I don’t bother with letting it open; there’s no way under that weight.

‘Sides, if it keeps getting tighter, it’s a matter of time before—

Snap! The buckle tears and my gargantuan gut spills forward, now unbridled. My pants bear the crashing wave of flesh, forcing it back a bit—but the freed room is enough, and I finish the goon with no effort. Fast, before the ache makes me stop. “Over and done!”

“Great show.” Baron claps slowly, and I focus on him. Don’t think about the pain, don’t think about vomiting the goons up! “Thought I’d be finishing him myself, but you did well.” His butt collapses on the ground, and his belly lurches forward, even grander. He’s been waiting for me before sitting—because we won’t be standing up for quite some time.

“What can I say? The best teacher gave me the ropes.” I stroke the taut skin. If I try to look down, I’d slam on the floor, but there’s no need. I know what I’ll see: a vast, sloshy gut full of prey. Finding my feet? I won’t see even my knees! Hefting my enormous mass, I waddle to the wall and crash near Baron. “And now I’ve made myself a damn fine blimp, haven’t I?”

We sit in silence for a while, rubbing our overfed bellies. Not bad for our first big hit, not bad at all. But I lick my lips and wonder—can we do better? Oh, next time, I’m showing Baron a real predator. “Better prepare for that bud,” I whisper a promise which only I hear, and tap the stretched sides of my gut. The next feast will make this a light breakfast. Who knows what it will take to topple the Titans? I’ve gotta be ready for everything.

#shadowverse #male vore #maiser #baron #mass vore #same size vore #male pred #multiple prey #chubwritings #implied digestion

57 notes · View notes

now-im-a-belieber · 3 years

Text

Life Is Beautiful

skip muck x reader

a/n: oh hello. here is a little something that came to me based entirely off of a conversation I recently had with a friend. please enjoy, er, at least try not to cry? sorry im the worlds saddest fic writer lmao

taglist: @capsparkyspeirs @wecomrades @tvserie-s-world

══════════════════

Everything was just as you'd left it, which raised a bit of suspension. Your sister *had* to have invaded your unused room while you were away. You just knew she'd snuck in here to sing into your hairbrush and push the clothes in your closet every which way. But... nothing was out of place.

You eased onto the stool of your vanity, noticing the steam from the shower you just took, curl from the ensuite. The only thing that seemed out of place here and now, was you. That, and a tattered old photo you'd stuck into the mirror you looked toward. It was perhaps the newest item in your possession, though the photo looked old as time. It was of Skip, smiling during a random morning of another day at war. The photo was worn and wrinkled in places, from months of being crammed in your pocket and nights held tightly in your clutch. It was all you had of the man now.

When a knock came to your door, you didn't bother welcoming the company. You knew your sister would turn the handle and see herself in.

You watched fondly as she entered, creeping into the room with a smile. You let out a breathy, tired giggle as you watched the girl flop onto the end of your bed, her chin in her hands, her feet in the air behind her- settling just as she used to, just as you missed while so long gone.

As she settled, there was a question in your sister's gaze. So you turned in your chair all the way to shoot her a look that insisted she ask whatever it was. No one had really asked much of you at all, in your short time home. This both relieved and infuriated you.

But your sister... She'd always asked the sorts of questions everyone else was afraid too. She'd always gotten you to say what you really meant. You'd never been afraid of holding back from the girl. And finally, she spoke, with her gaze cast toward the corner of your mirror.

"Do you miss him?"

She only knew of Skip by what you'd written of him. And on one occasion, he was moved enough to add his own note in with yours, just for your sister; who he'd been so keen to meet, along with the rest of your family. He'd always asked after them, when he noticed letters from home in your frostbitten hands. He'd dream of the day he'd get to sit around the dinner table with you and everyone you loved. That day would never come. God, of course you missed him.

"I always will." You shrugged. Mixed among the fears and dreams that branched from your spirit, the gnawing of longing that lived in you for Skip was a fixture. It was apart of you now.

And softly, with more understanding and kindness than you might've thought her capable of, given her age, your sister implored you to go on about Skip.

You started off easy. You started by marvelling over the light you so often found in his eyes. Like there was a different, radiant world he seemed to be in touch with. Then you mentioned his curiosity and his jest. Both senses got him into trouble and kept others out of harm's way all at once. He was unlike any soldier or man you'd known in your years of drifting the earth.

And what was most incredible, what you still couldn't believe, were the times he chose to spend with you. The nights he went out of his way to include you in a round of darts. The days he sat at your side to share a joke or two, just for you to hear. You knew then, you were lucky.

"What he gave me... I was always grateful for. I never took a laugh for granted." You said. Because the simple possibility of losing those days of laughter was enough to strike fear into your very core. So you laughed without care. But you never really believed you'd lose Skip's giggle.

You had imagined waking up to a world where all you knew might be shot down, blown up. It was impossible not to let those thoughts cross your mind. But you never could truly think of losing Skip. He was a permanent installation in your mornings and nights, and thoughts of him never ended in your head. He was more alive than you'd known life itself to be, at certain points.

And... he still was, somehow. And it seemed fitting, for his loss to be so sudden. He didn't suffer or fight. He simply went away all at once. He left you and your friends faster than a blink. But his jokes were still told and his whisper still seemed to echo in your ear. And whenever someone mentioned the Niagara you didn't think of the place but instead of the smile Skip wore when he recounted stories he held nearest his heart.

Before you knew it, you were recounting as much. Rambling about the horror that lived within you, lingering still from that day. How you felt haunted, not by the man you loved, but by his absence. You'd never forget how you realized what had happened, when Roe sent Malarkey to find you. The soldier couldn't meet your eye's, and his brow furrowed while he opened his mouth, willing the news of Skip's loss to be spoken. Before he could say so, you knew. You just knew the man you'd made so many plans with had been stolen away before you'd gotten the chance to make good on a single promise.

With a stifled breath, you paused at realizing your babble. Your sister had asked, but whoever really wanted to hear such talk?

"Life is so cruel." Your sister cooed in a broken whisper after a pause settled in the room. And for two reasons you were moved to correct her statement. For one, so she might wear a little more hope in her eyes when considering what new mornings brought. And for another, because she was completely incorrect.

"Life is beautiful." You pointed, voice full and insistent. Life gave you Skip. And life kept his memory in rosaries and rivers.

"Death is the monster. Life is beautiful. And I'm glad to live it even if all I have of him now is what has already been."

Even though there were still days you awoke with a deep driving desire to get up and go to wherever he'd gone. You knew you couldn't. But you got to live on. You were granted the great unmatched honour of telling Skip's story over and over again.

God, you missed him. You always would. But there would always be one piece of your heart ever morphed by the soldier. You got to keep him close, after all.

#skip muck x reader #skip muck #skip muck imagine #band of brothers

58 notes · View notes

neonponders · 3 years

Text

WIP Wednesday

Thank you for tagging me @lazybakerart 💗💋

I’ve got two big writing projects on my plate this week lol but one thing I’m kind of indulging is a break-up/getting back together fic that I actually started in this post, but I’ll share what I have so far underneath the cut ~

(and excuse me while I overshare, because I’m still stupidly proud of this The Mummy_au post that I made if anyone wants a taste of that)

Tagging (if you want) ✨ @ghostofjellyfishforgotten , ✨ @smashmouth-hargrove , and ✨ @withoneheadlight

(also just a heads up for the wip below: it’s once again me exploring my own asexuality through Steve, but I don’t know how far I’m going to go into it. Still, that might be a content warning people may need if they’re sex-repulsed 🌹)

Ch. 1

Sex with Billy was fine. Good, even.

When they finally moved past every look and touch being a threat veiled in a tease, Steve enjoyed looking at Billy. He enjoyed looking at Billy and discovering those California eyes already on him. He liked Billy’s hands. The man had beautiful hands; strong, thick fingers but...somehow elegant.

He liked Billy’s body, even though he sometimes worried that the guy seemed determined to break it ten different ways. Cigarettes, alcohol, excessive working out, and sometimes all at the same time.

Sex didn’t always mean Steve got to cum. Usually he didn’t, actually. But he enjoyed Billy’s kisses on his neck, and the taste of his tongue, and - admittedly - he loved just having all of Billy’s attention enraptured on him. Steve didn’t mind taking his dick inside because once he got used to it, that felt surprisingly good. When he managed the pleasurable sparks and sensational tingles that mounted into something explosive, he understood why sex was great. But for the more frequent, calm nights, he’d come to think of it as a weird yet pleasant massage.

So he took it. Because it was easier on his hands and knees, for one, and because Billy had a control complex. And Steve could hide his lack of enthusiasm.

Not to say that Billy was selfish or careless. Far from it, Billy Hargrove was an incredibly doting lover. Big surprise, there. Considering how the guy

Well

Existed.

Steve couldn’t really blame Billy for never noticing that he could go a long time without sex. Because Steve liked resting his hand on Billy’s chest while they watched a show or movie. It didn’t matter how much bare skin he had access to. In fact, the more coverage, the better. A clothed body is better to cuddle with than skin that can get sticky or irritated.

Steve liked kissing. He’d always liked kissing. Kissing was the reason he’d assumed he was like everyone else: the desire to kiss, crushes and girlfriends, masturbating, even the giddiness of sex with someone new.

But something fizzled out very quickly in Steve’s brain. Once hands and intent started moving beneath clothing, Steve just...didn’t want it. Suddenly a lot of things popped into his brain that he’d rather be doing. But he persevered because he loved Nancy, and her blooming sexual prowess and bravery was sexy.

Fun.

Billy was a whole big bag of new with an edge of scary that turned out to be more endearing than Steve thought possible. So it was easy to go like that for a while.

Normal.

Eventually he had to admit to himself that he didn’t like taking showers at 1am because he didn’t enjoy being covered in his own, and Billy’s, sweat. He didn’t like feeling the drips on his skin or the tackiness of too many skin oils on his hands.

He hated admitting to himself that he felt relief whenever Billy went out of town for work. He missed Billy, of course, but a lot of things had begun to snowball together in Steve’s life: changing jobs, managing bank accounts and savings, and there were a lot of truths Steve was facing outside of his relationship.

He was tired. Damn tired. He spent many days off wondering if people in their twenties feel this tired all the time or if it was just him. It must just be him. Because Steve sees Robin just as much as he doesn’t. She’s got goals.

And Billy

Billy has big dreams. He’s ready to work damn hard and already is. That’s why he uses his hefty gas money funds, to travel around. Scout the areas. Steve even drove him to the airport once, so Billy could really gain some distance over the weekend. Expand his network.

As if the universe knew, some bigwig passing through Hawkins on their way to Chicago ran right into Billy. A bigwig looking for a handsome, charismatic, young guy to mentor. It really couldn’t be more perfect than divine intervention. They’re Billy’s inlet to the business. Modeling, acting, freaking UNICEF ambassadorial work if he wants to feel extra important. If he gets big enough to have his face mean something around the world.

Within one conversation, he’s got a business card, and an appointment in a Chicago skyscraper next week to take measurements and do a rudimentary photo shoot. The manager warns him that it’s the agency getting to know him, but like any job interview, it’s his chance to interview them right back. Billy likes that a lot—feeling like he has a stake in something instead of just being a corporate pawn. And maybe he eats right out of the manager’s hand, but it’s still a shot. And he’s taking it.

He immediately goes to Steve’s work, fired up from seeing a future for the first time like he finally got the right prescription glasses. The only caveat is that Billy has to move out of Hawkins, which isn’t even a flaw, really. It’s as close to perfect as life’s ever been for him.

Steve can only listen quietly as he sits at the table in the break room. Because Billy’s got big dreams that are already coming true. Every detail of his enflamed speech is given over pacing feet; he can’t even bother to sit at the table. Billy’s got so much energy he’s already mentally and emotionally out the door.

Steve…isn’t. His mental health has been on a downward slope since before they graduated, and it won’t allow him to reach anywhere. He doesn’t have any dreams to steer him in any direction anyways.

Billy’s rant begins to wind down about what he wants to do; his fire about his dreams and his motivation simmers down to an even boil. Steve’s impressed and already proud of the person Billy will become, but Steve can also hear Billy’s frustration with him and their relationship.

For not keeping up.

Steve’s…kind of never been able to keep up. In bed or in life.

And perhaps the saddest part is that Steve doesn’t even have it in him to fight for it. For them. He doesn’t feel worthy enough to hold Billy back. So he doesn’t.

Billy snaps a little, “Why aren’t you saying anything? I’ve been talking about this for the last two years! Steve?”

He’d gotten distracted by looking at his backpack hanging on the wall. Steve’s throat hurt. Two years? God, it’s really been two years already…

He pinched his fingertips over the table as he began, “Billy, I support you. I know you can get there—wherever it is you want to be. I’m not going to tell you to stop or slow down. You’re going somewhere. But I’m…”

He took a breath to finally say it. “Not. I don’t know what I’m doing, and I don’t think I have the energy to figure it out any time soon. You should go.”

Steve can see the disappointment sinking through Billy’s features. And the anger that he’s so used to throwing up as a shield. Billy has so much energy coursing through him as it is, Steve can’t blame him for swinging right into the direction of livid.

The real surprise comes from how soft he speaks. No yelling. No hitting the table. No wrenching Steve up by his green uniform vest. They were long past those outbursts. Which…really just confirmed Steve’s decision. Billy had come a long way. He could go so much further.

“That’s what you have to say? Just like that…you’re really giving up on us?”

Steve knows he’s gaping like a stupid fish. But it isn’t just like that, is it? Billy’s been revving his engines to get the hell out of Hawkins ever since he got here in the first place. Steve tries to say as much, but Billy cuts him off.

“I thought you’d be excited for this. You should be hauling me out of here to pack my bags.”

Steve tries to offer a small smile, but his voice betrays him. “I thought I kind of am? I didn’t take you for the long distance type.”

It’s not the response Billy wants. That should make Steve feel better than it does; the blatant display that Billy wants more of Steve. His excitement, his attention, maybe his companionship…

Steve doesn’t know what he wants—or rather, he does. That’s the issue. Billy’s wants and Billy’s problems can all be resolved by leaving one critical piece behind.

Steve.

Some more things are said, but Steve doesn’t do well on the spot. Especially when the limelight is Billy. Steve fails the tests and he fails the interview. Billy storms out, leaving Steve at the table, pinching his fingertips white before he unconsciously glances at his backpack again.

The backpack full of apartment lease papers. The papers Steve’s already signed because even with his insecurities, the mornings he woke up to discover Billy spooning him after having returned in the middle of the night were his best days. Because Billy’s silly insistence on hand poured coffee was his favorite drink. Because Billy was funny and weird like an artist and loony like a nerd with his video games, and Steve knew—or at least hoped that—Billy loved him the day he started holding his hand while driving that stupid, loud, beloved Camaro—

Because Steve’s heart was a magnet. It stayed where it landed and tugged back even when pulled away.

All he’d needed was Billy’s autograph to be given the keys. Keys to the rest of their lives, if Billy wasn’t already so far away.

Ch. 2

Robin gripped Steve’s arm, hard. A gargled sound escaped him as he grimaced and tried to pry her hand off. Her other hand pointed at one of the catalogues on the store’s many counters. When he invited her with him to pick out glasses, he hadn’t expected to walk out of the freaking optometrist’s office with bruises…

Nor had he thought he’d see a familiar face in the catalogue. Plenty of models were looking editorial chic, advertising that anyone could look as good in whatever glasses they chose.

Except Billy really did look good. The picture was just a vague image outside, the camera focused on Billy’s three-quarter profile gazing off past the photographer.

“I didn’t expect him to actually be working this fast,” Robin admitted. “It’s been…what? Seven months, give or take? I thought casting calls for models were competitive.”

“Not if you look like Billy,” Steve huffed with a quiet mixture of humor, sadness, and just a sprinkle of spite. A sprinkle of jealousy, if he was being honest with himself. The self-help book tucked under the covers of his bed talked about honesty. So he admitted honestly, “He looks that good and knows how to stand out in a room…good for him.”

He could see in his periphery Robin looking up and scrutinizing him. “Really?”

Steve shrugged with a nod. “Yeah. What’s the other option? Him struggling for work?”

Robin sighed and plucked a display set of glasses at random to try on and occupy herself. “That’s big of you, but everyone wants something cathartic. It’s annoyingly impressive that he landed the front cover of a magazine in less than a year.”

Steve opened the catalogue to give them both a reprieve. “You wanna get food after this? Take your mind off the audition?”

For all the good being a band geek did, Robin had experienced her own humbling experiences over the last few months. Like failed auditions to be in city orchestras. She and Steve were feeling very stuck in Kansas while Billy gallivanted around Oz.

• • • • • • •

The plot gets messy because years will actually go by, and Steve and Robin get married so that they can share insurance benefits (and be safe in their bi/lesbian open relationship, buy a house together, etc. It’s the life/happiness security Steve wants but obviously there aren’t any romantic feelings).

Of course this is when Billy happens to reenter Steve’s life. He’s got some hot-shot model he’s been seeing, and apparently Steve is married so there’s the added dash and twist of ~ cheating ~

I’ve been in some kind of mood, all right.

If you made it this far, thank you for reading lol.

#harringrove #wip wednesday #this is a long one i'm sorry lol #also do check out the mummy au linked above for a much happier wip lol #neonponders #lazybakerart #the art of steve in a blindfold can also be considered a wip?#i'll reblog it for everyone haha #ficlet #break-up/getting back together

16 notes · View notes

nicknellie · 3 years

Text

Context so people who haven’t seen Ghosts can still read and enjoy this: Alex is the ghost of a WWII Commanding Officer. In this fic he relives his army days before he died, telling Julie all about it, focusing on another soldier in particular - Lieutenant William Havers.

Sidenote for people who have seen Ghosts: Alex is the Captain, Julie is Alison (because I would pay real money for them to have a conversation like this in the show), and Willie is Havers.

This is the saddest thing I’ve ever written. I wanted to include Willex in the longer Ghosts AU I’m writing but I couldn’t find a natural way to fit it in so I wrote this as something completely separate. Every interaction between Alex and Willie is taken from BBC Ghosts and is very gay.

Here’s to Buried Secrets

Alex could remember it like it was yesterday. Late June in 1940 – hazy spring had bled into a dazed summer, his troops were getting restless after going on a year of work, and he was just about ready to lose his mind. That day had been one of startling revelations and hard-hitting truths, painful decisions that felt like betrayals, stagnant silences and hurt.

With the war dragging on endlessly, his troops had been getting complacent. They did critical work at their base, top secret and crucial to the war effort, but there were times where nothing would happen for days at a time and the troops would get bored. Their behaviour was beginning to waver, and though he wasn’t too against it overall (he understood why they were acting up, he was bored to death too) Alex had to do the right thing and set them straight.

“Now,” he said, “that brings me neatly to point sixteen. There is still a great deal of noise going on at night – laughing, giggling, horseplay. Now, we all get bored – that’s inevitable in our circumstances – but may I remind you, we are at war. I wo…”

He had let his sentence trail off. At that moment, the doors at the back of the room had swung open and in walked Willie. Lieutenant William Havers was Alex’s right-hand man and close friend. There couldn’t always be much room for friendships when at war, and living in such close quarters with everyone in the house could make bonding difficult, but there was something about Willie and Alex that had allowed them simply to click. They understood each other – they cared for each other. Perhaps a little too much.

“Ah, Lieutenant,” Alex greeted, interrupting his own speech.

Willie walked towards him, hand outstretched, holding a small, folded piece of paper. “Communique for you, sir, from HQ, marked urgent.”

“Ah,” Alex returned, taking the note. “Finally! This’ll be my requisition for a service revolver.”

Willie smiled gently as Alex unfolded the note, and Alex suppressed his own. But as soon as he read the note, there was no smile left to hide. This was that first striking blow, that devastating loss; the note brought with it the news of a surrender.

“Good God,” Alex exclaimed, skimming the note over again, making sure he’d read it correctly.

“Sir?” Willie prompted, sounding concerned.

“France has surrendered,” Alex explained.

“My God,” muttered Willie. The troops, still assembled to the side of the two men, began murmuring amongst themselves, the tension in the room much higher now than when Alex had been telling them they needed to go to bed on time.

Alex looked out the window, scanning the sky for any sign of attack. It was silly, he knew – nothing could have happened so quickly – but as it was wont to do, his anxiety began to overwhelm him.

“The Germans are coming,” he said, breath hitching in his throat.

“I don’t think they’ll be here just yet, sir,” Willie told him.

Alex shook his head, regained control. Willie was always good at doing that; he could sense when Alex needed help to calm down, and he could do so with an easy joke, a clever quip. Coming from anyone else, talking to a commanding officer that way might have been a sign of disrespect, but from Willie it was just what Alex needed.

“What? Right,” Alex agreed.

Willie could see he was still distressed. “May I suggest we initiate the emergency lockdown protocol, sir?” he said easily.

“Yes!” Alex exclaimed. He was eternally thankful for Willie – God only knew where he would be without that man by his side. “Yes, jolly good.” He turned to address his troops. “Now, it’s vital that nothing fall into enemy hands.”

“You heard the CO,” Willie said to the troops as Alex turned to watch out the window again. “Get to your duties.”

The troops dispersed in a cloud of excited but nervous chatter, getting to their stations, hiding their work. Alex was left alone with Willie, his only comfort. As Willie came to stand by the window with him, that easy, dashing smile on his lips, Alex felt himself both tense and relax. His worry ebbed away, but it was replaced with the hammering of his heart and a shortness of breath.

“Er… exciting times, Willie,” he ventured. He knew he should have called Willie by his proper title, or at least his surname, but when in private the two were much more open and colloquial with each other. Besides, in the wake of such a bombshell using his first name didn’t seem so scandalous. “If they do invade, we might get a proper pop at Jerry.”

“Yes,” Willie said through a chuckle. But the smile on his face dropped after a moment. Alex felt his heart plummet – Willie was usually all smiles and it was never good when they fell away. “About that, sir… I know we do vital work here, sir… but I want to get involved in the fighting. I’ve put in for a transfer.”

Alex felt like his breath had been stolen from him. Here again, that blow to the gut, that crushing feeling of betrayal. He knew distantly that Willie wasn’t betraying him and he could understand why he wanted to go. What stung was that he was only finding out after the fact. Though he knew also why Willie hadn’t told him: because they both knew that Alex would have done everything in his power to stop him, and it would have been too painful for either of them to bear.

Neither of them had ever mentioned it, but there was something magical about the bond they had. It was like they shared a soul, improved each other, completed one another. Alex didn’t want to think too hard about it. The thought of what he and Willie could have been was painful in innumerable ways.

He still didn’t voice those thoughts now, even though he knew it may be one of the only chances he had left. Instead, through a hitch in his voice, he said, “You’re leaving?”

Willie didn’t reply for a moment, a pregnant pause growing between them, pushing them apart. It stung, and Alex couldn’t feel anything.

But then Willie gathered himself and said, “There’s talk of a North Africa front.”

“Yes,” Alex replied, nodding like it all made perfect sense, like he didn’t feel as if he were going to die. “Yes, well, I totally understand, of course. Carry on.”

He ended it like a command, an order. It wasn’t because he wanted to be apart from Willie - no, he wanted to keep him close by forever - but he needed to grasp some semblance of control and giving orders, doing his job as CO let him do just that - be in control, understand what was happening.

“Thank you,” Willie replied, excruciatingly quiet, ducking his head.

He left the room and Alex in musty silence, the air heavy with revealed secrets and suffocating like gas. Alex’s mind was swimming, fogged with hopeless fantasies, weighed down by the knowledge that the one person who kept him going would soon be leaving him.

Alex had almost forgotten that Julie was there until he looked around and saw her watching him. He was dragged back down from his own mind, his own dredged up memories, and instead reminded himself that he had been telling her all that, not reliving it for no good reason. Perhaps he’d got a bit too caught up in it all, lost in his own head.

He cleared his throat. “Yes. Willie was wonderful. A very fine soldier. I never found what became of him, though, after he left for North Africa. We exchanged letters for a while, but it was difficult – what with the top-secret work I was doing, we couldn’t have addresses being traced and whatnot. We soon fell out of touch, and then… well, I died.”

Julie reached out as if to take his hand, but then seemed to remember they couldn’t touch, so rested it in the space between them on the sofa. Alex smiled weakly, laid his own hand beside hers. He tried to avoid looking her in the eye – her expression radiated pity and it was the last thing he wanted to see.

“I’m sorry, Alex,” she said gently. “It must have been awful.”

“Luckily, a true soldier like me becomes adept at hiding his feelings,” he said, trying for light and joking but clearly missing his target. “Besides. I couldn’t worry my troops. Had to keep morale up, which was difficult enough in itself. It was… it was rather a lot to come to terms with.”

“What happened when he left?” Julie asked softly.

Alex sighed. “Well…”

Alex had been in his office just a few days later. He was staring down at an envelope, carefully sealed. In it was the blueprints for a new limpet mine, a prototype bomb that would perhaps revolutionise the war had it not been so unstable – Alex and Willie had been trying to create a version that was safer, easier to use, but so far had come up empty. They had been instructed to dispose of the bomb and its blueprints; the mission would be dropped.

The envelope was marked simply with the word ‘William’. That was what the operation was called, its codename. Alex had been the one to decide upon it, uncreatively naming it after the first thing he saw, which just so happened to be his lieutenant sat by his side. Willie was the only other one to know about Operation William and when he left it would just be Alex.

Alex had imagined many a time that the contents of the envelope were something entirely different, that the name on the front was to address someone rather than to hide something. In his dreams, there was a letter inside written in his own handwriting and it spilled every deep dark secret he was keeping. It would be addressed to Willie and for his eyes only. In his dreams, Willie would write his own letter in return, addressed to Alex.

He would never write that letter, he knew. It could get him killed.

He was snapped out of his reverie by a knock at his office door.

“Come,” he called, tucking the envelope into the inside pocket of his jacket.

The door opened and Willie let himself in, shutting it behind him, standing to attention.

“Ah, Willie,” Alex greeted, glad to see him as usual. “At ease, at ease. I was just thinking about you, actually. How’s the emergency lockdown coming?”

“Very good, sir,” Willie returned, smiling sweetly. “Most items have been squared away, as per the order.”

“Excellent,” Alex returned, beaming. He moved to stand behind his desk, closer to Willie but with a barrier between them. As he tried to speak, Willie began too. “I see–”

“I’ve come to tell you that–”

Both laughed, nerves buzzing between them. Alex knew what his were about – he could only guess and hope as to why Willie seemed a little on edge. The space between them felt charged with expectation, though what it was for Alex didn’t know.

“Sorry,” he said, returning Willie’s genuine but faltering smile, “you first, Lieutenant.”

There was a pause. Uncomfortable, excruciatingly anticipatory. The last remains of Willie’s smile crumbled and he swallowed before he said those few words that would tear down the last of Alex’s resolve and ruin him forever, haunting every dream and nightmare and waking moment. The words that would echo in his head whenever there was silence. The words he would fall asleep thinking about every night from that day forward.

“I’m afraid I’m leaving you, sir… At eighteen-hundred hours this evening.”

The world stilled. Alex wasn’t sure his heart was beating anymore. The part of their shared soul that was Willie’s was torn away from him. He came up blank.

“So soon?” was what came out of his mouth, weak, desperate, small. He hated himself for it, so tried for light-heartedness and gestured to the shining new gun on Willie’s belt. “That would explain your new service revolver. I don’t suppose they sent one for me, did they?”

“Only for front-line personnel at this stage, sir,” Willie said, a light but forced smile on his face.

“Of course. Yes.”

“It’s North Africa, sir,” Willie said. There was something like hope in his voice – it felt like he was asking Alex not to be too upset. Be proud, he was asking. Be happy. For me. “I’ll be able to have a proper swing at Fritz!”

“You make sure you give them a bloody nose,” Alex joked.

He answered Willie’s silent plea for his blessing, his reassurance, his pride, and he tried hard to be positive. He attempted a half-hearted fake punch, throwing it in Willie’s direction and was delighted when Willie responded (if only subtly) as if he’d been struck. Willie was grinning, looking happy, looking excited. Alex had to try and be excited for him too.

But still he said, “I shall miss you, Willie.”

Willie’s face fell again. Alex half-hoped his meaning hadn’t been easy to decipher. He knew what he meant, he knew why he’d said it, but it was a stupid and dangerous thing to say – a stupid and dangerous thing to hope for. Willie swallowed heavily, his throat bobbing, and Alex couldn’t read his expression. Though he was fairly certain it was something similar to his own.

He had always known that Willie felt it too, this forbidden and electric thing between them, whatever it was. This shared soul that was now breaking in two, never to be repaired, never to be recreated. It was this moment that Alex realised he and Willie could never have what they wanted.

So he backtracked.

“By which I mean, of course, that we shall miss you. And I know the Wilson House XI will certainly miss your cover drive.”

Willie’s smile came back too slowly. Alex knew his lie hadn’t come quick enough. He knew the unspoken words and unwritten messages were still there between them, heavy and quaking and full of fear, sadness, silence, and things neither wanted to put a name too. They danced around it, though they wouldn’t have to for much longer. Just a few more hours and whatever they had would be shredded forever as Willie said goodbye.

“Thank you, sir,” Willie said. “Well… if that’s all?”

Alex collected himself, simply looked at Willie for a moment before making himself reply. “Yes.”

Willie nodded, took it as his cue to leave. He pulled the door open and was on his way out of the room.

There was so much Alex wanted to say, so much he wanted to do. He wanted to spend a hundred more sleepless nights with Willie, working on secret projects and perfecting weapons. He wanted a thousand more late night conversations spoken in metaphors and riddles, deciphering each other, growing closer, learning more about their relationship than was permitted. He wanted a million more moments just to look at Willie’s face, to dream of what he couldn’t have.

All he wanted was to speak this silent truth that hung between them like a noose – damn him if it killed them both.

He called him back. “I say, Willie?”

Willie turned faster than lightning, hand rested on the doorknob but eyes trained on Alex like his face was all he ever wanted to see.

He tried to say all he wanted to, but knew he could never. It appeared he just had time for one last metaphor, a final riddle, one last waltz around their dire and doomed reality.

“It’s a bally shame we won’t get to finish the operation together,” he said.

Judging by the look on Willie’s face, the message was received loud and clear. Willie offered a smile, genuine but bittersweet. And without a word, he left the room.

Alex took the little envelope out of his pocket again, stared down at it. He had wanted to bury Operation William alongside Willie – they had both worked so hard but for nothing and it seemed only right they should rid the world of this failure together. But Alex would have to do it alone.

If only he could write that imaginary letter now, he thought. There was so much he could say, but not enough words in the English language to say it. There weren’t words to describe the abject loss he found himself steeped in, the gaping hole that had opened in his chest, the weeping wound that would never quite heal.

That night, alone, he went into the garden with the blueprints and the prototype bomb and he buried them both. With it, he buried all memory and evidence of himself and Willie, all their hard work, all they had built and experienced together.

He bottled those emotions to never let them out.

“He left that night,” Alex said to Julie, “six o’clock on the dot. The rest of our crew saw him off, waving from the doorway, but I stayed in my office. I told them I had paperwork to do.”

“Did you get to say goodbye?” Julie asked.

Alex sighed. “That conversation… well, that was our goodbye. The rest of the house was in chaos so I didn’t have another chance to speak with him alone, everyone needed either my assistance or his.”

Julie’s eyes were brimming with tears; Alex didn’t look at her, or his own eyes would have watered too. “So that was it? That was the last you saw of him?”

“Sort of. I watched him leave from my office window. He… he gave me one last wave from the gate then disappeared, off on his own adventure. Without me.”

“Don’t you wonder what happened to him?” Julie asked, shuffling closer to Alex on the sofa.

“All the time,” Alex breathed. “I looked for his name in every newspaper and every message I received after we lost contact but I never heard of him again.”

“Would you like me to Google him?” Julie suggested. She had explained this whole ‘Googling’ thing to him a while ago and from Alex’s understanding she simply had to type Willie’s name into the little search bar and all his information would come up in an instant. It was quite remarkable, really, and perhaps it would give him that last little bit of closure. And yet…

“No,” he said, “no, thank you, Julie. It’s quite alright. I… I have this version in my head of who he became and I shouldn’t like to spoil it. I shouldn’t like to taint what memory I have left of him, should his life have turned sour.”

Julie smiled softly. “What’s the image in your head like?”

Alex cleared his throat. “Well… I suppose I like to imagine that he was the best soldier out there on the North Africa front. He rose to a position of command – that was where he thrived, really, but good Lord was he good behind a gun. He was well-respected and kind and his men adored him. And I pray that he survived the war, that he made a living for himself, that he got everything he could have ever wanted in life. Really, I suppose… I suppose I just imagine him to be happy. That’s all I could have ever wanted for him. And if I were to find out he were not happy, well… no, I quite like the Willie I remember.”

Julie left a pause before she spoke again. Alex could see the cogs turning in her mind, could see her wondering if she should say whatever was on the tip of her tongue. He knew what was coming the moment she opened her mouth.

“Did you love him, Alex?”

Alex stood, crossed the room and stood by the window. His hands clasped behind his back, swagger stick gripped tightly, he looked outside, eyes trained on the gate. How many times had he stood here during the war and after, waiting for what he had lost to return, hoping in vain that by some miracle he could be granted his happiness? How many times had he wished for what he could not have? How many times had he replayed those final moments in his head, watching Willie wave goodbye?

It happened again as he stood there. It was as if a cloud came over him, throwing him back decades, putting him right back where he started. Willie stood by the gate, thick coat donned, hat atop his head, his bag slung over his shoulder. He waved up at Alex, and Alex smiled back.

“Yes,” he said at last, so quietly that he thought Julie may not have heard him. A great weight was lifted from his shoulders, decades of repression undermined in that one admission of his true feelings. It wasn’t enough – it never would be because he’d never said it to Willie – but acceptance was a start.

Slow as death, Willie – Alex’s version of him – ceased his waving and walked through the gate, disappearing into the darkness to where Alex would never follow. And for the first time after reliving that agonising memory, Alex let himself smile.

44 notes · View notes

anotherkpopvictim · 4 years

Text

Respected and Loved - NamKook Littlespace Drabble

(Gif source - me)

“Anonymous asked: Hey! I was wondering if you could do a Jungkook-centric littlespace AU. I was wondering if his main caregiver could be Namjoon hyung. Panic attacks and angst with fluff and happiness at the end would be great.”

A/N: I know that I took longer to post it than I originally planned, but I realized that posting it for Kook’s birthday would be perfect so I hope it was worth the wait! Also, I really liked the JinKook idea you gave me as well, I might work on it for a while and post that for Jin’s birthday in December.

Anyways, enjoy! And Happy Birthday to the one and only Jeon Jungkook <3

Pairing: Little!Jungkook X Caregiver!Namjoon

Rating: T (swearing, panic attack)

Words: 2923

Hurt/comfort, fluff

WARNING: There is a pretty detailed panic attack, so if that triggers you at all, please do not read this fic.

<><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><>

It was obvious to anyone and everyone with eyes that Jeon Jungkook admired and respected his Namjoon-hyung. Between the doe eyes staring up at the older like he hung the stars in the sky and the way Jungkook’s bratty behavior immediately stopped whenever Namjoon scolded him, the other members figured it out within about 0.2 seconds of knowing them both.

The thing was...Jungkook never just admired and respected his hyung. He loved him. Jungkook loved Namjoon. He didn’t know that he was in love back when they were trainees and fighting tooth and nail to be able to debut. He was too young back then to understand the pounding of his heart when his hyung was around or the way he felt like he simultaneously couldn’t breathe around Namjoon and could only breathe when he was around. It was love, though, as he grew to understand.

Alas, Namjoon never seemed to quite realize just how much he meant to their beloved maknae. For someone with an IQ of 148, he sure was oblivious when it came to Jungkook’s feelings for him.

One night a few months following their Danger promotions, the maknae line had gathered together for a sleepover. The three laid cuddled together in the bed, lights off for the night, and whispers of hesitant secrets filling the air between them.

“Jungkook,” Jimin looked at him seriously, “You love him, don’t you? Namjoon-hyung?”

And Jungkook turned as red as a tomato, stuttering over his next words. “As a h-hyung? Of course I love him.”

“What about as a lover, Kookie?” Jimin continued, not for a second buying into the younger’s act.

Taehyung, looking adorably confused, turned to Jungkook with questioning eyes. Now the maknae was trapped between his two hyungs’ gazes and bodies, unable to lie.

“Y-Yeah,” he managed out in something of a squeak. “Yeah, I love him.”

That was the first time Jungkook ever admitted it to anyone or even out loud. Seokjin was next to ask him about it, followed by Yoongi and finally Hoseok.

So, literally everyone in the group knew that Jungkook was in love with Namjoon for years and Namjoon himself still didn’t have a single clue, or if he did, he was hiding it extremely well.

Even as they got older, as Jungkook found out about littlespace, as everyone accidentally found out Jungkook was a little, as the leader became Jungkook’s unofficial main caregiver, Namjoon still didn’t realize.

Honestly, Jungkook came to the conclusion that he never would. That Jungkook would have to take his feelings to the grave with him. It wasn’t like he was ever going to confess himself, considering how timid and anxiety-ridden he was.

So, when the leader finally did find out about Jungkook’s feelings, it came as a shock to both of them.

The day was like any other and Jungkook hadn’t the slightest suspicion that his secret was going to be revealed.

He was in the dance studio with Hoseok, Seokjin, and Jimin, goofing off even if they probably should have been practicing. They were playing a game of choosing a random song and having someone freestyle dance to it.

Jimin was the first to go, and when Hoseok put on a super bright girl group song, Jimin didn’t hesitate to go full-on with the choreography and cute actions. He basked in the cheers he received from the others.

Hoseok took the floor next and got into a starting stance. Seokjin grinned smugly in his direction before putting on possibly the saddest song ever. It was a song in English so they didn’t understand all of the lyrics, but they understood enough that it made them laugh when Hoseok began his popping routine anyways. The song and the dance didn’t match in the slightest, which was what made them all lose it, really.

Seokjin took his turn confidently and listened for the beginning notes of whatever song Jungkook was going to play.

The maknae took a moment to think of a good song and grinned once he thought of one.

A heavy bass and EDM beat filled the room, a song that Jungkook knew Hoseok would be amazing at freestyling to.

Seokjin nodded before cracking his knuckles and then breaking into a complicated dance routine filled with all of the most famous, cheesy dance moves in it. He started with a slick Moonwalk, followed by the Chicken Dance, the Carlton, and the Shopping Cart.

The three dancers were on the floor laughing their asses off when Jin confidently hit the Mashed Potato and the Lawnmower before finishing off his performance with the Gangnam Style dance and the Bus Driver.

It took a good few minutes after Jin’s spectacular performance for them to gather themselves back together. Jungkook finally wiped away the tears of laughter from the corners of his eyes and took the stage.

Jimin gave him a smirk before he pressed play on the song he’d chosen.

A deep, obviously sensual song began playing through the dance studio, making the maknae roll his eyes.

Shrugging off his initial hesitance, Jungkook decided to put on a show for his hyungs. He started off with grinding on the floor like they did in their Blood Sweat & Tears dance, followed by numerous hip thrusts and body rolls incorporated into smooth choreography.

Hoseok and Seokjin were hollering and whistling, hyping the maknae up in his performance. Jimin could only think about how ARMYs would die if they had the chance to see this dance, even if it was only a joke.

Jungkook finished his performance, panting and sweating from the workout.

“Dang, JK!” Seokjin exclaimed, bringing a nice, cool water bottle over to the maknae.

As the youngest chugged the drink thankfully, Hoseok waggled his eyebrows suggestively. “Is that the dance you want to perform for Namjoon?”

Jungkook promptly choked on the water.

Jimin snorted, “Do you think Namjoon would finally figure out Jungkook’s feelings for him if he did?”

“W-What?”

The new voice startled the four of them, all turning towards the door to the dance studio, where none other than Kim Namjoon himself stood. He had wide eyes and his jaw dropped slightly, blush creeping up his cheeks.

Jungkook’s heart fell to his stomach. Had his hyung seen what he’d just done? Had he heard what the others said? Judging by the look on his face, yes, yes he did.

Everything was silent in the normally chaotic dance studio, Namjoon trying to process the information he’d just been given, and the other three trying to find a way to explain what they’d just accidentally revealed.

Jungkook’s mouth felt dry and full of cotton, his heartbeat the only thing he could really hear pounding in his ears.

The maknae tore out the back door to the studio before any of them could even think to stop him. He ran through the company hallways until he reached the front door and then he ran some more.

Namjoon knew. Namjoon knew.

Despite the fact that Jungkook wanted his hyung to know, now that it was happening it was all just too much for him to handle.

What if his hyung hated him now or was disgusted with him? Jungkook felt his stomach twist into knots at the thought.

Jungkook ran and ran and ran. His lungs were aching for breath and vision was blurry from his tears, but he never once stopped.

Then he internally gasped. What if everything was ruined now, and the whole band was going to have to break up because of his stupid feelings? Jungkook would never, could never let that happen, but to keep the peace between the other members he’d probably have to leave the group himself.

“Jungkook! Jungkook!”

The maknae vaguely heard the voice calling after him as he ran, but it was overrun by his self-deprecating thoughts.

The sound of car horns honking loudly brought him back to the present and Jungkook realized he was in the middle of a road and while other vehicles had managed to stop for him in time, there was one dark-colored car that was heading straight for him.

“Jungkook!”

There was a harsh yank on Jungkook’s arm and he managed to stumble out of the way of the car as it came to a screeching halt. The vehicle would have hit him if he’d stayed in that spot. It wasn’t going fast enough to have killed him, but he definitely would have broken some bones.

The maknae looked around him in a shocked daze that didn’t feel at all like reality. Now safely on the sidewalk, he looked up to see Namjoon standing there with his arms around Jungkook tightly.

“Jungkook, oh my god, that was so close!” Namjoon was rambling under his breath. The man raised his hands to Jungkook’s face and inspected it. “Are you hurt?”

Jungkook shook his head, not being able to find any words in his shocked state.

Taking a deep breath, Namjoon pulled out a black mask matching the one he had on himself and slipped it onto the maknae’s face. “Let’s get you out of here before someone recognizes you. I think we need to talk, Jungkook-ah.”

The two of them took a car back to their dorm because apparently Jungkook had gotten impossibly far in his race to get away from his problems. They didn’t speak while the manager drove them back, but Namjoon held onto Jungkook’s hand firmly.

Jungkook was still so shell-shocked from his almost car accident that everything went by in a haze. The next thing he knew he was sitting on the couch in their dorm with a blanket wrapped around him and a cup of water in his hands.

Namjoon sat down beside him and set a hand on the maknae’s shoulder. “Kook-ah, can you look at me please?”

And Jungkook couldn’t say no to his hyung, had never been able to, so he raised his watery eyes and looked his hyung in the face.

The leader’s expression was concerned but calm. He gave a gentle smile. “I’m so glad you’re okay. I was so scared when you took off like that...and when that car almost...” he trailed off.

“��M sorry,” Jungkook croaked, his throat still feeling tight and dry from his panic attack.

Namjoon shook his head, “No...no. You don’t need to apologize. Just...you can’t run away like that when you’re scared. I don’t want you to get hurt.”

Jungkook nodded. “Me neither. I’ll try to do better.”

Namjoon sighed and started hesitantly, “So...you have feelings for me?”

The maknae’s breath hitched again and he could feel the panic attack that had settled slightly come back full force. His whole body began shaking with the effort to breathe and his heartbeat was racing in his chest.

“Jungkook! Jungkook, it’s okay! It’s okay!” Namjoon hurried to say. He grabbed the maknae by the arms and tried to get him to look into his eyes. “Don’t panic again, baby, please.”

“D-Don’t hate Kookie, please Daddy!” Jungkook slipped into littlespace without any warning. “’M sorry, ‘m sorry!” he sobbed.

“Daddy could never hate you, baby,” Namjoon replied, desperation in his voice. “I-I love you, Kookie. I’ve loved you for years.”

Jungkook stopped breathing completely for a moment. “W-What?”

Namjoon sighed and hung his head. “I never told anyone and I tried my best to hide it. I never even thought you could love me back.”

Jungkook had so much he wanted to say, needed to say, but for a few minutes, he had to regain control over his breathing. Namjoon helped him by breathing deeply with him and running his hand through his hair soothingly.

“Y-You love K-Kookie?”

The leader smiled shyly, “Yeah, yeah, I do.”

“Daddy loves Kookie,” Jungkook repeated under his breath in awe. Then he broke into an ecstatic grin. “Daddy loves Kookie!”

Namjoon couldn’t help but smile back at the younger’s cuteness. “That’s right, baby.”

Jungkook scooted over until he was seated in the older man’s lap. “Kookie loves Daddy.”

Namjoon let out a breath he didn’t realize he’d been holding as a breathy chuckle. “That’s so good to hear, baby.”

A light bulb went off in Jungkook’s head and he looked at the older with a shy blush on his cheeks. “K-Kookie made something for you.”

The maknae jumped off of Namjoon’s lap and ran down the hallway to his room. When he returned, he had a large piece of paper in his hand and was pulling his lip nervously between his teeth. Then he shut his eyes tightly and thrust the arm with the paper out in Namjoon’s direction.

Trying to fight a coo at the younger’s cute shyness, Namjoon took the paper and turned it over to see what it was. His breath hitched in his throat.

It was a picture drawn in crayons, obviously done by Little Kookie as he didn’t have as much artistic talent as his older headspace. There were two figures in the middle that appeared to be holding each other with smiles on their faces. Above their heads in speech bubbles were the words ‘I love you’. Behind the two figures were five others who were clapping happily.

It didn’t take a genius to figure out that the two figures in front were Namjoon and Jungkook, and the others in the back were their best friends. The maknae had portrayed all of their hair colors and styles pretty accurately. The picture was so sweet that the leader actually had to fight back some tears.

“This...this is beautiful, baby.” he managed out.

Jungkook finally reopened his eyes and looked at the older man with hope. “Really? Daddy likes it?”

Namjoon chuckled and reached out to run a hand through the maknae’s hair before pulling him back into his lap. “Daddy loves it.” Then he furrowed his brow in thought. “When did you draw this, though? I’m usually the one with you when you’re in littlespace.”

“TaeTae-hyungie and Jinnie-hyungie took care of Kookie when Daddy was at work one day,” the younger explained. “Kookie was really sad and he missed Daddy lots, so TaeTae said Kookie should draw a picture for Daddy.”

“Well, it’s a wonderful picture,” Namjoon praised, kissing the younger’s cheeks in thanks.

The two of them sat curled up together on the couch for hours. Namjoon rubbed the maknae’s back soothingly and the younger tucked his head comfortably into his hyung’s neck.

At one point, Namjoon got up and retrieved Jungkook’s Iron Man blanket and red pacifier from the bedroom. When he returned to the living room with them, the younger’s eyes widened and he made grabby hands at them.

They settled together again and Namjoon turned on Spongebob Squarepants on the television, though neither of them were really giving their full attention to it.

Their peace was disturbed when the front door burst open and their five bandmates piled into the room. The sudden noise startled both of them, Jungkook’s pacifier falling from his mouth as it opened in surprise.

Seokjin was the first one to get to them, his eyes wide with worry. “Sejin-hyung just told us about Kookie’s almost accident. Is everything okay?”

Hoseok was next to him in a second. “Oh god, Kookie, I’m so sorry I told your secret and caused you to run off like that. I didn’t mean to, I swear!”

“Kookie’s okay,” Jungkook answered genuinely. “And Hobi-hyungie don’t have to say sorry, Kookie isn’t mad or sad about it.”

Hoseok looked relieved and gave the maknae a kiss on the top of his head.

“So...” Jimin looked between the two on the couch pointedly. “Did you guys talk at all?”

Jungkook broke into a big bunny grin that had them all clutching at their hearts in fondness. “Yeah! Guess what Jiminie-hyungie? Daddy loves Kookie too!”

Everyone looked at their leader with happy, slightly surprised eyes. “Really?” Jimin questioned with a smile.

Namjoon felt his face and neck flush sheepishly. “Yeah, I’ve loved Kookie for a few years but I had no idea he loved me too. Did...did all of you know how Jungkook felt about me?”

The five of them nodded.

“We’ve known for a few years,” Taehyung admitted.

“Yeah, it didn’t take us very long to figure it out,” Yoongi added. “We didn’t know how you felt, though.”

Namjoon sighed, “I’m such an idiot.”

“Yeah, you are.”

“IQ 148 my ass.”

“We been knew.”

“Hey!” Jungkook scowled adorably at his hyungs. “Don’t be mean to Daddy! And don’t say bad words!”

Almost immediately, all of them mimicked zipping their lips closed and throwing away the key. Damn, all of BTS really were whipped for their maknae.

“Alright, now that that’s out of the way,” Yoongi stepped up closer and put his hands on his hips, expression serious. “We need to talk about Jungkook running off today and almost getting hit by a car.”

Jungkook groaned, ashamed, and buried his head back into Namjoon’s neck. The last thing he wanted to do right now was talk about this again.

The leader started rubbing his back again and turned to the others. “Leave him be. I already spoke with him about it and he said he’ll try not to run next time. I think the car almost hitting him was a big reality check.”

Jungkook smiled into the older man’s neck as he heard his other hyungs grumbling and pouting. Namjoon always knew exactly what he needed.

Jungkook loved Namjoon so much.

And Namjoon loved Jungkook just as much back.

<><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><>

A/N: Phew, that’s the end. More angst than I originally planned for but oh well. Let me know what you thought of it!!

#bts #bts little space #bts littlespace #bts drabble #bts drabbles #bts fanfic #bts fanfics #bts fanfiction #bts namjoon #bts rm #bts jungkook #kim namjoon #jeon jungkook #bts namkook #namkook

149 notes · View notes

pastelwitchling · 4 years

Text

Michael hadn’t seen Alex in two weeks.

It used to be a regular thing, about a year ago, to go through periods of time without so much as hearing from the airman, but after they’d started working towards finding out more about Nora and Louise, Michael had gotten used to getting a text or call from Alex at least every other day.

After he and Maria had broken up, he’d expected to have heard a lot more from the airman, but he’d only turned more and more silent until eventually, Michael almost felt like Alex was going out of his way to avoid him. And he hated it.

Maybe that was why, on a Saturday morning, when he knew Alex would be home, Michael found himself driving into Alex’s driveway. Hearing music coming from Alex’s backyard wasn’t unheard of, and Michael stepped out onto the back porch to find Alex curled up in one of the chairs, a guitar in his hands, and sitting across from him, looking casual and comfortable in sweats and a maroon cardigan was Forrest, working on something in his journal.

They were speaking in whispers as Alex plucked away gently, the two smiling as if in secret conversation even from the birds. Michael felt his heart sink into his stomach, but he swallowed back the lump in his throat and raised his hand in greeting for Forrest to see him.

“Oh hey,” the historian said with a kind smile, setting his journal down. Alex looked over his shoulder to see who Forrest was talking to. He saw Michael and gave a small smile, turning back to his guitar.

“What’s up?” Alex asked with his back turned to Michael, his attention more focused on his notes.

At Forrest gesturing to a chair beside them, Michael sat down, trying not to be bitter that Forrest felt enough at home to offer a seat to someone else. How many times had he been here anyway?

“Is everything okay?” Forrest asked. “You look like you’re going to be sick.”

Michael plastered on a smirk, shrugged and said, “Everything’s fine. I just came to see Alex.”

If Forrest was annoyed or worried about Michael coming all the way to see his boyfriend, he didn’t show it. On the contrary, he nodded, as if understanding that if one was upset or conflicted, the best thing to do was come see Alex.

“Well, I’ll leave you two alone, then,” he said easily, closing his journal and handing it to Alex who took it with an almost shy smile, his cheeks turning red, as if he was being handed a rose. “I have to get to work anyway.”

And he pecked Alex’s lips once, then the crown of his head, then walked off. Michael stared ahead, waiting until he was gone, his kisses to Alex playing on repeat in his head. When he heard Forrest’s car pull out onto the road and drive away, he turned to Alex.

“You guys have gotten close,” he noted. He tried to keep the accusation out of his voice, but being who he was and feeling all he felt made it impossible.

Alex nodded, then smiled softly and said, “I like to think so.”

He opened Forrest’s journal, his eyes scanning the page a moment before his smile widened slightly, his eyes brighter, a deeper blush rising up his cheeks and the tips of his ears.

“Did he write you something?” Michael asked.

“Sort of,” Alex said vaguely after having finished reading the latest page. He closed the journal, keeping it close by on the table as if afraid of letting it out of his sight, and returned to plucking away idly on the guitar.

“So,” Alex said, “what’s going on? Why’d you come?”

“I told you,” Michael said. “I came to –”

“See me, yeah, I got that part,” Alex said with a sigh. “What for? What do you need?”

Michael raised a brow, trying not to feel hurt. Did Alex think that Michael wouldn’t come unless he needed something? “I just wanted to see you, Alex.”

“Well,” Alex shrugged, barely pressing his lips together in a neutral smile. “Here I am.”

Michael stared. He should’ve kept his mouth shut, should’ve ignored Alex’s indifferent tone, should’ve just sat quietly and taken the chance to stare at the airman while he could. But then –

“Why have you been avoiding me?” he asked, and Alex said nothing. Michael’s brows furrowed. “You’re not going to try to deny it?”

“I haven’t come to see you,” Alex finally said after a moment of mindless plucking. “And I don’t have a reason to go to the Wild Pony anymore. I haven’t been avoiding you.”

“But you don’t want to see me,” Michael insisted, and Alex did not object. Michael turned his whole body towards him, jaw clenched. He tried not to get angry, not to lose his temper. “Why?”

Alex played the guitar a little more, the notes almost deafening in the silence between them. Then, he said, “You know, I’ve been giving a lot of thought lately to why we fell in love in the first place. Or . . . why I fell in love.”

Michael searched Alex’s face, not daring to breathe. He wished Alex would just look at him.

“Even when we were seventeen,” Alex shook his head, “you were impenetrable. You didn’t let anyone but Max and Isobel near you, you were smart, but you were cold and distant. You’ve always been like that, and I,” he chuckled, and Michael thought it was the saddest sound he’d ever heard, “I loved that about you. Because, deep down, you had the purest heart I’d ever seen.”

At this, Alex’s voice turned barely higher than a whisper. “And I thought I was the only one who got to see that.”

“Alex –”

“Please, just,” his brows furrowed, and Michael saw his hand tighten around the neck of his guitar. “Just let me finish.” So Michael closed his mouth and waited.

“With me, you were . . . different. You were so kind, so open and caring. So loving. It’s stupid, but . . . I felt special. Michael Guerin, keeping everyone at arm’s length . . . everyone but me.” He sighed, giving Michael a smile that didn’t quite reach his eyes. “But I was wrong.”

“You –” Michael shook his head, scooting forward so that his knee touched Alex’s thigh. “You weren’t wrong! Alex, you’re . . . you’re –”

“You told Maria you love her,” Alex whispered, yet his voice, the misery of those few words, echoed. “You’ve never even said those words to me. When you guys broke up, I thought . . . I thought it was because . . .” He shook his head. “It doesn’t matter. I was wrong then, too. I keep getting it wrong.”

Michael’s eyes burned. “Alex,” he said, “when I told her that, I – I didn’t mean –”

“I don’t care, Guerin,” Alex said with a sad laugh, his eyes glassy, his voice trembling. “I don’t care why or – or how. You’ve never said those words to me.” He huffed, wiping furiously at his face once with his hand. “And – and I know it’s unfair and illogical and childish to be upset about this, to not be able to stand the sight of either of you anymore no matter how hard I’ve tried, and I have tried, but I,” he shrugged, “I don’t care. I can’t help it. Seeing you . . . makes me so miserable. And sad, and angry, and just – just thinking about the way you cared for her this past year, in a way you never cared for me. And she gets to be your girlfriend, and I get to be your super computer, and how long did you think that was going to be okay?”

Another helpless laugh. “I tried to fool myself into thinking that you and I were in love, and everything was eventually going to be fine, and at some point you would see that, and we’d be together –”

“But I do see that,” Michael tried desperately. “It’s you and me, it’s always been you and me, I believe that now!”

“But I don’t,” Alex said quietly, and Michael turned to stone. “I don’t anymore. I need time, Guerin.”

“Time away from me,” Michael dared him to answer, his voice rough.

Alex nodded numbly, turning back to his guitar but not playing a thing. “Time away from you. Please leave, Guerin.”

“Alex –”

“Just go,” Alex said with a sigh, and returned to plucking away, Michael thoroughly dismissed.

Michael slowly stood after it was obvious Alex would not listen to anything he had to say. And what could he say that would fix how Alex felt? Betrayed, abandoned, replaced. How would Michael possibly help any of that?

As he turned to leave, he saw Alex gently pulling Forrest’s journal closer, as if taking comfort in playing for it. Alex’s smile slowly returned, but with a pang in his heart, Michael realized that it wasn’t for him.

***

I think this may be the last malex fic I’ll be able to write in their world (no guarantees though). I’m sick of Michael for now. Just leave me in my little forlex corner 💙🌼

#alex manes #michael guerin #forrest long #malex #forlex #malex fic #malex one shot #malex fanfic #malex fanfiction #roswell new mexico #roswell nm #malex angst #malex fluff #tyler blackburn #michael vlamis

152 notes · View notes

viole-tmoon · 3 years

Text

Lamia

- summary: jungkook is a vampire hunter looking to party and wants his crush. oc is a vampire who just got cheated on. what could go wrong

- genre: angst

- word count: 4k

- notes: IN PART 3 THIS FIC CHANGES TO A READER INSERT. lmk what you think! this is a reupload from my old account that got deleted. i renamed this fic!!

- warnings: vampire fic, indecent exposure, public nudity, talking through a bathroom door, possible death mentions(i don’t remember right now), alcohol mentions and usage, cheating, sex mentions

masterlist - part 1 - part 2 - part 3

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“I’m not gonna drink your piss,” I said sipping on my vodka tonic as I watched Sana point her bottle towards me. She rolled her eyes and picked at the glitter that was all over her boobs.

“It’s just Bud Light. I don’t like it just as much as you do,” she said still obsessed with the annoying glitter. I could almost feel glitter sinking into my hair from watching her.

As I continued to stare at Sana’s boobs, I saw from the corner of my eyes my ex, who had broken up with me less than three days ago, kissing another girl.

I was going to puke.

“What’s wrong?” Sana inquired. “Does this push up bra make me look too thirsty?”

I heard her but I couldn’t understand a word she said. I was watching the guy who almost proposed to me tongue punch a girl I was pretty sure was a freshman.

I wanted to die. I wanted to die.

“Hey,” Sana said snapping my attention back to her. I nodded, eyes glued to the scene before me, and sat my drink on the counter behind us. Sana eventually got the memo and turned to the scene as well.

“Oh my God,” Sana said. “And I thought he had to ‘work things out’.”

“Shut up,” I nearly shouted. I knew I was being selfish and I didn’t care. I snatched my purse off of the counter. “I’m going to the bathroom...”

I could feel my best friend staring at me. It hurt more than she could ever know to feel her pity.

I knew she wanted the best for me but I’d never felt so much pain at once because of someone who I thought loved me. Her eyes asked if I was okay but I wasn’t at all and I wasn’t going to be. I wanted to scream at him and make a scene but my face was red with confused anger and I could feel my tears already falling. I needed to leave. Unfortunately, it was one of my oldest friends, Jongin’s, party so I couldn’t leave without hearing about it tomorrow and being asked every goddamn question in the world.

Why was this was happening to me?

I was so sure he loved me too. All I thought we needed was a break. I thought we could be happy. I thought we were meant to be beyond time and space. I thought he was my one. Sure we’d broken up a few times but he’d never done that. The scene flashed before me again as I waded through the masses of my colleagues. I was conscious of the weight of their eyes on me. They were probably wondering what was wrong and why did I seem as if I were going to cry? Jongin noticed me and I rushed away. I didn’t want to deal with anyone other than myself right now.

.........................................................................................................................................................

{Jungkook}

“A man’s car is his life,” I said, watching my elder spray paint ‘Learn how to park’ in bright green on some poor fuck’s car. Yoongi had his tongue poked out as he observed his masterpiece.

“If it’s his life he should take better care of it,” Yoongi said turning around and putting his hand on his juniors shoulder.

I scratched at my forehead beneath my red cap and let the sound of leaves crunching under my shoes drown out the party. Yoongi was way too quick to anger sometimes, everyone knew it and he had quite a few enemies because of that. I watched Yoongi step closer to his friend's house, I could see that it was brimming with people. They were an hour late because Jin and Namjoon asked them to go to the store to pick up an exorbitant amount of Mountain Dew and 7up. Apparently, Jin was going to ‘surprise’ his ex who had recently left him for their professor.

“Anyways, I heard Jennie was going to be here,” Yoongi spouted as he opened the glass-paned door to the two-story house. He glanced at me with a knowing smile. Jennie was one of the few girls I had ever been interested in actually dating. She just had something about her that made her seem perfect to me. Maybe it was her eyes or the way she smiled when talking about physics but I wanted her.

“Cool,” I said nonchalantly and he chuckled.

The party was fun, while I was sober. While I was detailing a few girls about some of the trouble I’d gotten into last weekend Yoongi found me and convinced me that I had to leave if I didn’t drink five shots: in a row. After that, I wasn’t sure where I was until, about an hour in, Jennie’s eyes pulled me in, requesting that I spend quality time with her. I plowed through the waves of students, stepping on a few shoes and splashing alcohol under my boots.

“I didn’t think you’d be here,” she said, emphasizing the ‘you’.

“Really?” I said, examining her and edging in on her personal space. Jennie was usually annoyingly busy so I’d never had the chance to get to know her. She was also normally dating someone.

“You never seemed like the type,” she said with a smile. I really tried to not let people know about my personal life at university. Most people in class thought I went home and studied. Everyone I’d met outside of class had a very different picture of me.

“And what type do I seem like?”

“Like you don’t want to be here,” she said. Her face seemed closer than before and I couldn’t help but smile.

“I mean, I can imagine of a few places I’d like to be,” I said to her and she giggled with her bright smile. We spoke for a few moments longer before I felt the consequences of those five shots and excused myself to the restroom.

On my way up the stairs, I noticed the long forming line next to the nearest bathroom and sighed. Jennie was probably getting chatted up by another guy already and that was all I could think about. I waited for a few moments before I noticed Jongin, Yoongi’s friend who was throwing the party, and asked, in a whisper, if there was anywhere else I could go. He pointed me upstairs and told me that there was a bathroom in his parent's room.

When I finally found that room, it was hidden behind couples making out, I heard distinct wines and groaned echoing from the bathroom chamber.

If it wasn’t one thing it was another.

I knocked on the door, softly. I didn’t receive an answer so I waited and heard a girl continue to cry and talk on the phone to someone.

“Yeah, he kissed her and it was really hot and steamy,” a female voice said, followed by sniffles.

I want to die.

Jennie was waiting downstairs for me and I needed to see her suck my dick at least once in my life. I couldn’t lose this opportunity because some girl was getting cheated on. I knocked again louder and more rapidly.

“Please solve this drama somewhere else,” anywhere else, “I have to piss,” I said.

“I’m sick,” the voice said with the saddest fake cough I’d heard in my life. The cough reverberated inside what I assumed was a large bathroom.

“Really?”

I heard a hiss at the door, kinky but not what I was really looking for at the moment, and she spoke again. I knew she was back on her phone. At this point, I would’ve been better off waiting in line. I banged my head on the door. I’d never see Jennie at this rate. I’d never have the chance to talk to her while she was single either. I sighed into the door.

“When I sucked his dick that night I thought we were meant to be,” she said and I couldn’t help but smile at whatever this girl was going through as I banged my head on the wall, continuously, to let her know she was being overdramatic.

“Could you stop?”

“Nope,” I said still banging my head on the door and questioning my life’s purpose.

“You’re being an asshole, you know that?”

“You’re being a b-i-t-c-h,” I said. “Please, I really need to pee. I’m asking nicely.”

“I can’t leave here.”

“Just for like...two seconds, there’s no one around,” I said, but she had already started talking to her phone.

I couldn’t wait any more and my dick was going to explode in the next few seconds if I didn’t relieve myself so I rushed down the steps. I watched the bathroom line and it had increased into the dining area. I searched for an exit until I spotted one to the left of the steps. I saw two large glass-paned windows filtered by a haze of smoke. I rushed over to the window panes and pushed them open. I gazed at the cerulean pool that reflected the waxing moon. The drizzling rain made ripples in the pool’s moon and I knew my night really wasn’t going to get any better. I eyed the bushes to the left of the pool and immediately ran there. I was finishing up when I heard a familiar voice behind me.

“Jungkook?” Jennie said. “I’ve be-”

.........................................................................................................................................................

I never wanted to hear Yoongi’s laugh ever again.

“So...let me get this straight,” Yoongi said in between fits of laughter. “She caught you .... outside .... with your whole dick out. The girl you’ve been talking about since school started.”

Yoongi had been going over the events over and over as if he were a tape recorder. I kept remembering it through flashbacks that I never wanted or cared to see again. Her face was so red and she stammered over her words when I stupidly turned around with my dick out.

“Can you please shut up,” I groaned. “I get it.”

“She probably won’t even remember.”

She did.

The next time we spoke it was the most awkward conversation in the universe. She totally avoided my eyes entirely and talked about anything but last night and when the topic came up of if she had fun she went totally silent. Whoever that girl was had ruined any chance I had with her I hoped she burned in hell.

.........................................................................................................................................................

{Avery}

I spread out my notebooks on the table and sighed while staring at them. History was my worst subject and I knew next to nothing. My next essay was 10 pages long and I knew I was going to fail this course. I was already on probation so I definitely needed all the help I could come by.

Sana told me that she knew this tutor who helped her out a lot last semester and that she’d slept with him once. Apparently, he was a playboy. I tapped my pencil on the table and peeked at my phone. The guy was already 10 minutes late and I grew more restless with every passing second. I decided to scroll down Twitter with the few moments of freedom I had left.

“Hey, sorry I’m late,” I heard the voice echo throughout the room. It seemed oddly familiar. I flipped through my book to the most recent page in my studies. ‘It’s fine,’ I murmured as I scanned the text for my most recently highlighted part. I didn’t even know where to begin, so this guy was a godsend for me. He scanned me over and introduced himself and I did the same. I sensed his gaze on me for a little longer than I thought was normal, so I looked up from my book.

“Do you know Jongin?” He asked as I picked my head up. “Or Yoongi?”

I shook my head and answered that I knew Jongin.

He bit his lip and nodded at his backpack. He opened it and scattered his studying objects onto our now shared table. I looked them over, eyeing them for any more details on his personality. I sighed when all I could spot were ‘ordinary’ things you’d find in any university student’s backpack. I saw pieces of scattered notebook paper, a binder, a few pencils, a textbook, and a small black book. No panties or anything interesting.

“You just seem familiar, what high school did you go to?” He asked.

I told him and he still scratched the back of his head. He glanced over his pile before I noticed a small ‘aha’ smile on his face but I wasn’t really interested in finding out more. He seemed like the type of guy to play with you and throw you out like you were a cat’s new toy.

I needed to ask Sana to clarify if this guy was a tutor or someone she had only fucked because he did not care in the least bit what was going on. He said that my questions made no sense and that I was grasping at straws with all of my opinions but he refused to clarify any of my questions or even put me on the right path. I groaned as I watched the clock slog on past an hour and he began putting his books away.

“So, that’s it?” I said tapping my pen on the desk. I couldn’t help but deem this as a huge waste of my time.

“Yep, I did the best I could, good luck on your test, you’re gonna need it.”

I could only stare at this guy. While watching him I noticed how his brown hair lit up in the white light of our study box and how his pink lips curved as he put away his utensils. He was too attractive. It was almost as if he were an angel.

“I just .... don’t think you actually came here to help me, Jungkook.”

At that statement, he stared at me with a profound amount of incredulity, as if he’d never had someone be so straightforward to him.

“Why do you think that?” he asked.

I told him.

“Ah.”

“Did you like .... lose a girlfriend or something? .... Or do you just not know what you’re doing?” I said while fiddling with my pencil. I had a certain amount of rage inside me. I wasn’t going to let an asshole screw me over. I was so close to graduating and I couldn’t let him get in my way.

“Sana told me you were good and I don’t think she would lie to me .... Look I really need th-,”

“I don’t really give a shit,” he said. It was almost as if we were in a game and his true personality came out. Some part of me was surprised, at this outcome, but most of me was frustrated.

“Why would you tutor me if you were just going to show up and do nothing.”

“I like getting paid.”

I rolled my eyes, “Please,” I begged. “I really can’t fail this.”

“It’s just a midterm.”

I rolled my eyes and in frustration threw a piece of paper at the door when he closed it, “Fuck you.”

.........................................................................................................................................................

“I wanna die,” I said and leaned on her best friend’s shoulder. I couldn’t believe I was going to fail my history midterm all because of a stupid guy. Sana stroked my hair, while Jihyo watched, and cooed to me that it was going to be okay and that there were plenty of tutors out there.

“You said he was the best you’d ever had,” I whined. A part of me was worried that she might have meant that specifically sexually but I had no clue. I drank until I couldn’t feel my face and whined to Sana and Jihyo about how I was never going to graduate.

When I had turned away from the bar to get drinks for my friends I bumped into a hard chest. I managed to get half of my beverages on his white shirt. Fuck, was the only word going through my head. I shot out a ‘Sorry’, but immediately regretted it when I looked up and noticed that he held the same scowl I had seen less than 6 hours ago. I wanted to die but I also smiled at the karmic resolution the universe had placed before me.

“So—rry,” I said slowly, as I stared at his white shirt with a pout.

“Jesus Christ, Avery,” Jungkook said while pulling on the hem of his now discolored shirt. I let out a tiny smile at his dismay.

I rolled my eyes, “Don’t be such a baby,” I said as I grabbed the nearest paper towels and pressed them on his shirt. I felt the impression of his abs underneath and was surprised by how sculpted they were. I stopped pondering for a moment before I heard an ‘ahem’ coming from the annoying guy. I pouted when I noticed that his shirt refused to return to its original state. “Let me get these .... drinks to my friends and we’ll figure something out.”

.........................................................................................................................................................

I stared at the washer and then inspected Jungkook who was in my father’s largest white. He seemed ridiculously cute to have such a bad personality. I didn’t feel bad at all when I rinsed detergent all over his precious shirt that he had complained about all the way up here.

“If it doesn’t come out you owe me so much money,”

“How much could a white button-up cost?”

“It’s a Kanye West or-ig-i-nal,” he stated as he sipped on the beer can he’d stolen from my tiny refrigerator. I couldn’t believe this asshole ruined my entire day and college career.

“You know you can go to your dorm and wait,” I said pushing open the laundromat door.

“And miss out on the free alcohol you owe me? No way,” he said.

.........................................................................................................................................................

As soon as I opened my dorm door he spotted my refrigerator once again, much to my chagrin. This guy was going to drink me out of a house and home. I sat on my bed and opened my laptop while I watched him open another can.

“You really don’t remember me do you?” he said in the most drawled out tone. My bed shifted under his weight.

“As the worst tutor I’ve ever had? Of course, I do.”

At that statement, he threw the rest of his body onto my bed and I knew I needed him out of my bedroom before I strangled him. He came in here as if he owned the place.

“You,” he said while drunkenly waving a finger in my vague direction, “kept me away from my future girlfriend.” I was glad when I saw that he was losing his ability to speak but upset when he decided my bed was the perfect place to rest.

I made a face of incredulity at his statement and decided to pry his beer from his drunk hand. “Ok .... That’s enough for you,” I said. He must’ve had me confused with someone who gave a shit.

“Maybe even wife .... whatever dude ....,” he said grasping for my drink as I pulled it away from him. He muttered out a few words before falling fully asleep in my room.

.........................................................................................................................................................

{Jungkook}

I was pretty sure I was in a girl’s room.

Which girl I had no clue.

I stretched over in the empty bed and searched frantically to no avail for my phone.

“You talk in your sleep and cuddle a lot,” Avery said over the sound of rushing waters to which I let out a ‘huh.’ She came into my view wearing my shirt. What the fuck? I thought as I stared at my dick. Dude!!! I put my hand over my face and peered back at her. She looked really cute in it. Too cute. She wore it as if it belonged to her. I couldn’t help but think about ripping it off of her, for multiple unspecified reasons.

“Um, did I? Did we?” A lot of me was pissed that I couldn’t keep my dick in my pants with a girl that I hated, but watching her in that made me reconsider. She giggled and I was scared yet excited for her answer

“Yeah, you proposed to me,” she said and covered her face as if she were embarrassed. I felt all of the life drain of me. What was wrong with me? What was wrong with me? When was drunk me going to realize that there are consequences to my actions? The onslaught of giggles made me reconsider my descent into madness.

“Dude, you’re so gullible,” she said, unbuttoning my shirt. A certain part of me grew in anticipation for the outcome of her actions but I pouted when I found out that she had a shirt underneath.

“We didn’t have sex...You did try to cuddle me a ton,” Avery said before gliding her way to her bathroom. “You owe me, like, 10 study sessions, dude. You’re welcome,” she said. I was left with my thoughts before she peeked her head back in. “Also, I told Jennie you were gay,” she said with a snigger.

My whole body froze.

“You’re literally the most gullible person on the planet,” she said while throwing her head back in ungodly laughter.

.........................................................................................................................................................

{Avery}

The first few times we studied I was exhilarated at the pace at which he taught me. After the events of last week, he seemed way more inclined to help me in my struggles. I was surprised by how organized and studious he was in contrast to his asshole exterior. He showed me how he kept track of his ideas and why I needed to study at least once a day. This was our last study session so I needed it to be in a quiet environment, so we decided on his room.

“Did Jennie talk to you today?”

“This isn’t going to help you,” Jungkook said as he watched me answer questions on the quiz he’d created for me. I sighed at the feeling of his scrutinizing gaze on me. I was glad that he was helping me but it felt as if I were in boot camp. The boy didn’t know when to take a break, his energy was overwhelming. I could tell he was leaning in closer when I smelt his musky honey scent creeping in.

“You’re probably not going to understand this one,” he said as he pointed at the question.

“I feel like it’s .... George Washington?”

“You’re closer than .... Napoleon?”

I sighed as I rubbed my finger on the desk. I was really glad for his help. I sensed his shadow creep in on my personal space and heard his chair roll closer to me.

“So, what do you suspect the answer is?” he asked. I could tell he was teasing me and I wasn’t able to focus on my memory.

I groaned, “Could I get a hint?”

“Do you really think I’m going to give you a hint,” he asked while watching my emotions run over the question he had asked me. I pouted at my page.

“Yes...?” I sighed. We’d been working really hard to make sure I understood everything and I still couldn’t comprehend it. I sat my forehead on my desk. I felt him pull my chair closer to him and I had completely forgotten my last few thoughts.

“I just feel like you’re stressing yourself out over nothing.”

“Mmm,” I let out. I was more than tired and had considered drinking coffee for the first time in at least two years. I turned my face so that my cheek sat on my cool desk and peered at his big bunny eyes. I noticed his arm wrap around my waist and he started speaking again, but I couldn’t tell what he was saying, I was obsessed with the way his touch felt against my shirt and how cozy his hand felt. I couldn’t stop staring at his lips.

“This is something you should focus on,” he said while pointing at my book. He watched me and I was sure he could tell I was dazed and confused. His lips turned into a grin before he pulled his face to my ear.

“I don’t think you’re listening,” he said, into my earlobe. I was surprised by his closeness and my goosebumps raised. I let out an ‘mmm’ and ‘I am’ absentmindedly. He pulled my chair until I was flush against him. I wanted to whine in embarrassment but I couldn’t even let that croak out of me. He pulled away from me and my body missed the warmth he presented. My face slid so that my forehead was back on the table to avoid his gaze.

“It’s okay to look at me,” he said while lifting his hand onto my neck to press on any of my tensions. I peeked back up at him and was surprised to find his lips on mine in less than a second. Sana had told me a little about how he kissed but she never explained it like this. She never really gave it the amount of praise it deserved. His lips were like pillows and the gates to heaven. I never wanted someone more in my life. He pulled away from me in a knowing gaze.

“Yeah, I know,” he said, while smoothing his thumb over my lips. I knew he could see the dumbfounded look on my face and I wished I could take it all back.

.........................................................................................................................................................

#jungkook smut #jungkook fanfic #jungkook angst #bts smut #bts fluff #bts angst #bts fanfic #my writing

10 notes · View notes