#ah this was years ago anyway. getting my head out of the rabbit hole | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

bonny-kookoo · 3 years

Text

Rabbit Boy | JJK x Reader | 🔞

Pairing: Jeon Jungkook x Reader

Wordcount: 10.3k (Long)

Genre: Romance, Friends/strangers to lovers, Smut, BDSM because I'm making that a genre now

Tags/Warnings: BDSM themes (please I'm begging you stop reading my shit if it makes you uncumfortable), mentions of restrainment, light shibari, edging, orgasm denial (very mild), Subspace, Domspace because yes thats a thing, Dom/sub dynamics, Biting, Oral (m and f receiving), riding, and not the horseback kind if you know what I mean, protected sex yes, we love an organized household, there's just so much sweet filth istg

Summary: Jungkook is wild, untamed, and doesn't really commit to anyone for long. But maybe, you're his only exception in this world. Maybe, you're really that perfect partner he's been looking for.

Jungkook likes to think of himself as an artist.

Sure, if people knew exactly what the young man does in his freetime (or as a side job, don't judge, we all want to make money out of our hobbies stop lying to yourself), they would surely look at him differently.

But he's an artist, nonetheless.

Technically, Jungkook also doesn't need to do what he does simply for the money. No, his main job pays very well- considering that he's one of the top elite in his genre of games. He doesn't just merely play and win a game; Jungkook, just like most things he touches, claims complete ownership of the match he's fighting. It's a well known fact that he's someone who likes things for himself. He loves control, craves to lead, and hates to be belittled.

Oh and yeah- financially, investing in an indie-game three years back had also done his bank account some good.

Now, at an age where he can be fully considered a man, and not a boy anymore, he craves control in different aspects of life- and love.

Jungkook has a problem however.

He's wild.

Not in the way one might think he is (although several people could argue that yes, that's also the case in bed..) but generally. He loves to control- but he hates to be tied down.

And a mindset like that doesn't work well with relationships.

He's had them before, don't get him wrong. He's had numerous in the past, but they all either broke apart because he would hold that particular desire back, making him antsy and moody, or he would welcome his partners into his world, and become uncomfortable with the way things would progress.

No, he doesn't want to experiment. He knows exactly what he wants, and if that means he's 'close-minded' and a bad person, then so be it for him.

He never liked the constant company in his apartment anyways.

"Ah, I've seen her before. She's usually a regular for Yoongi though." Taehyung says, checking a name for Jungkook, who's doodling on a napkin while he waits for his new appointment to show up. "I see. I forgot that Yoongi took some days off recently- that's probably why she's now under your hand." He explains, and Jungkook huffs, his blonde hair tickling his cheek.

"So I'll have to adjust? I mean, Yoongi's style is pretty different from mine." The young man says, not looking up. He simply continues his little sketch of braided hair, while the lanky guy behind the counter clicks away on his laptop.

"Probably? I can't check the logs since they're private, but from what I know Yoongi only did the usual with her." he explains, shrugging as he looks at his friend and colleague. "I can re-schedule her to Hoseok if you want?" He asks, and Jungkook, after finishing his drawing, lets the pen fall and stretches.

"Yeah, that would probably be best. Wouldn't know what to do if she drops- rather not have him rip my head off, thanks." He says, before he gets up.

"Ah- you're still coming over tonight right? Y/N said she's gonna cook for us." He says, and Jungkooks body shivers a little.

Your name is nothing new to him, but the reaction to it most certainly was. You're a friend of Yoongi and Hoseok, having joined in on their gaming nights a few months ago after Yoongi had insisted you couldn't stay alone on a christmas day. Jungkook had never really asked why you were alone in the first place, but he had never really cared much for it either. Sure, you were an absolute gem to look at; technically absolutely his type, but he had early on decided not to pursue anything at all with you. He knew friendship wouldn't stay friendship with you, his own hunger way too large to simply be satiated by platonic gestures-

and he was also sure you wouldn't be able to handle him, truly. The conversation with Jimin, one of your best friends, had changed nothing about that. Because he didn't know you well enough to quite know if you were only bark and no bite- or if you were genuinely craving the same things he did.

But most recently, there had been a change in his opinion on you. Because he had seen you, come out of this place, out of Yoongis studio.

You knew about all of this- and you were still around.

Nothing had changed.

Now, of course he had instantly poked holes into the poor guy about if he had ever played with you before- and the answer he had gotten, had made him even more interested and antsy to get closer to you.

Because while you trusted Yoongi with everything you had, he had never done anything with you. You had simply been interested in watching a scene unfold- and had told him that you were definitely interested in participating. The reason Jungkook couldn't ask you directly was a clear one-

You were majorly intimidated by him, to the point of, he had never really had a proper conversation with you. Partially, he had to admit, because he himself didn't want to involve himself too much with you.

He’d always asked himself; wouldn’t you be even more distant and reserved with him if you knew this side of him? Sure, you always joked around that he probably tied his girls up and edged them until they cried- but did you know that he genuinely enjoyed these things?

Relationships for him were mere covers to call the arrangements he had with the girls that came and went in his life in a constant changing matter. Deep down, no one night stand could satisfy his most carnal desires, and he was very well aware of that. But he rather took what he could get and lived a fever dream for a few moments than stay on his own simply because his idea of pleasure and sex was not the norm.

No, he refused to deny himself that.

Maybe it was because he’d always lived a rather lavish life- with his parents well off and his own career skyrocketing he never really had any worries like you have had in the past. For some odd reason, while looking at the soft red rope in his hands, his thoughts suddenly went astray; he knew he could give you the stability you oh so craved, in every way shape and form. You were a diamond simply waiting to be perfected- you had so much potential, knowing that you were secretly wandering around the same paths as he did made him even more frustrated.

The hints were there, they were obvious; from the way you had sighed out in bliss when he’d teasingly pulled your hair just hours ago, to the sinful confessions he’d heard that night when he overheard you and jimin by accident. Of course he’d maybe wasted a thought or two of you underneath him to humor him once or twice- but now with the rope in his hands, his mind immediately began painting pictures of it against your skin. Would you enjoy it? And what if he took your sight, or only bound your hands? What if he denied you to cum, or if he took you from behind, grabbing your hair and pushing down your spine to make it arch so prettily- never with the intend to hurt, of course. He knew he’d have to tame you first, make you submit, but then again, he loved the challenge.

You made even the idea of touching fun.

He wouldn't even have to undress you to fully get himself worked up, he was sure of that. Only seeing you bow to his very command would be enough to satisfy him. Of course, over the course of time he would lead you deeper and deeper into his rabbit hole, but he would take it slow for you.

So, with a smile, and a wave of his hand, he walked past the girl he knew had been his appointment- grinning at Taehyung. "Of course I'll be there."

He wouldn't dare miss a night with you.

You were stressing. A little.

Maybe.

Maybe a lot.

Everything would've been fine if they guys would've all come over. But due to the bad weather, and Taehyungs bad habit of never properly fixing his god-forsaken dumpster of a car, only one of them would be able to make it. And of course the one had to be Jeon Jungkook.

Just great.

Now, it wasn't like you didn't like the guy, no way. The problem was more, that he was on the exact opposite of that spectrum. You had a major crush on him, which felt like the plot to a really bad drama show you would watch drunk at night- and in a way, it really felt like one too. Because you were pretty sure, he didn't even know your name.

But oh well- apparently he knew more than that. More specifically, your phone number. And it had scared the shit out of you at first to receive a message from him because how the hell did he get your number, but then again you remembered that one of your connections was Kim Taehyung- and everyone knew what he knew.

It was the doorbell that ripped you out of your skin almost.

You didn't even change, deciding any effort would be too late anyways; and you were still heavily confused in the first place why the fuck he would come over alone, even though you two had never exchanged much more than a friendly hello and goodbye. But there he was, as you opened the door- soft, white hoodie and ripped jeans, a bit damp from the rain outside as you let him inside.

He didn't move.

"Uh-" You started, but he just looked at you, friendly as ever, although a teasing glint in his eye made you frown a bit.

He thought it was cute.

"You didn't tell me to come in." He said, and you blinked once, twice, before your brain had properly restarted.

"Oh uh- come in?" You said, again, moving a bit to the side so he could walk in- which he still didn't. "Jungkook come on now its fucking cold-!" You whined, and he laughed, finally stepping inside. Had he always been like that? Could very well be the case, after all, you had never truly paid much attention to his behavior before.

"Thanks for letting me come over." He said, and you watched him as he untied his boots. "I had nothing else to do- and also, I didn't want you to waste any food, considering Tae said you cooked for us." He explained, before he got up again from his half kneeling position, boots now standing next to your significantly smaller shoes.

"Ah, it would've been fine, you guys don't have to feel bad." You waved off, smiling. "I was about to stop cooking anyways when Jimin had texted me, but well, then you did and uhm.." You drifted off, noticing how you were suddenly waiting for him to lead the way.

In your own apartment.

What the hell?

If he noticed however, he didn't show it. He simply smiled, and moved his hands inside the front pocket of his hoodie. "Ah, thanks. I appreciate it, really." He said, and you smiled at him as well, walking towards the main area of your apartment. It was small, very small compared to his own, but he enjoyed the feeling of it. Everything around him reminded him of you, in a way; from the pictures taped to the walls, to the stickers on your fridge. It all held a piece of you in it. "Your apartment is really nice, by the way." He commented, and you turned around, before getting plates and cutlery to bring inside the living room.

"Ah, right, it's your first time here." You said. "Thanks- the living room is right around the corner there, you can just sit down and I'll bring everything there." You explained, and he smiled, nodding without arguing.

You liked that.

Typically, there would've been this awkward 'oh no let me help you', but Jungkook didn't seem to dwell on it much, letting you do your thing instead of butting in and making things weird. He simply walked where you had directed him, sitting down on the couch as he went to place a blanket to the side. His fingers moved over the fabric for a moment, noticing how everything on the couch, including the pillows, were made of that same, soft material.

Interesting.

"Oh- you can just put that to the side, sorry I forgot to clean that up." You said, putting the food onto the table as he just smiles again. He waits for you to sit down as well before you turn up the TV volume a little, nerves finally setting in as you notice there's almost nothing you can talk to him about. "This is awkward." You comment, and he chuckles at that swallowing his bite as he looks at you.

"Doesn't have to be." He states, before he turns his body a bit more into your direction; a visible sign that he wants a conversation. "Tae has never mentioned what you do for a living." He states, an unasked question of his. He lets you decide if you want to take it as one or leave it as a statement- it makes you feel nice, in a way.

"Ah uh.. it's really boring, so I guess I never really talk about it either.." You say, and he tilts his head a little, a silent urging for you to continue. You feel insignificant next o him and his job however. He's superior to you in any way, and you don't want him to feel pity or laugh at you for your job. "I uh.. I'm a programmer for a.. pretty unknown game studio." You say, body almost shrinking in on itself as you wait for his reaction. Much to your surprise however, he makes a sound that's purely surprise, as he swallows his bite with a bit of urgency.

"Fuck really?! That's so cool though!" He argues, brows furrowed a bit as he playfully accuses you with his next words. "Indie or not, a programmer is the main force of any game. Did you work on any games I might know of?" He asks, eyes sparkling as he realizes he had finally found something to bond with you over.

"Uh.. 'Rabbit Boy' was our best hit until now.." You say, still a bit shy, but you're also a tad more confident now. His reaction is either well-staged, or he's genuinely interested in what you do.

"I played it I think. It was a bit short, but I loved the mechanics." He says, and before he can quite stop himself, his hand has already reached out to you, running over your hair as he praises you like second nature. "Wuah, so smart!" He says, before he gets a reaction he wouldn't have thought he'd get from shy-you.

Because you playfully shove him, your socked feet pushed against the side of his thigh as you giggle at him.

Interesting, again.

Now, Jimin has actually told him about this before. How you were anything but the shy girl when you were around people you knew and trusted. He had believed it- to an extend- because he had also thought that maybe you were like that to prove your spot between those guys. As the only girl, you easily got thrown under the bus, so you had to somehow own your spot in the midst of your circle of friends.

However, it seemed like you were truly just a brat, hiding behind that innocent facade of yours. A barking dog, with every intent to bite if needed.

And Jungkook knew, he'd love to tame you, show you your spot, and make you his prey.

The trashy movie your watching bores you, in a way. Jungkook has noticed this already, having taken note of your feet wiggling around, your teeth nibbling on the inside of your cheek, as you rest your cheek on your hand, elbow resting on the side of the couch.

“I don’t know why she’s so hesitant.” You mutter, pouting as you slump into the couch- uncaring that the side of your body now leans against his own. He feels your warmth- and for some reason it brings him comfort to notice that you’re seemingly growing more at ease. “I mean, it’s what she’s into, right?” You say, brows furrowed as you watch the screen.

“It’s not that simple.” Jungkook explains, trying to not make it obvious that he’s not necessarily talking about the movie. “Some men like to you know.. fight for a partner. Impress them. Win them over.” He explains, and he can feel you shift a little- until your head raises a bit, watching him as he watches you; gazes locked, and you can’t look away. You’re shy, you’re growing restless, but his eyes are like magnets; there’s no way you can avert your gaze.

“And.. you?” You ask, voice not loud at all, as if you don’t even notice you’re saying it. He loves that- loves the fact that you’re slowly letting him closer- not only physically.

“I like to earn my spot in their lives.” He states, and your mind suddenly begins to spin. You’ve always seen him as someone who doesn’t care much about emotions or feelings, or relationships for that matter. And maybe he doesn’t- maybe he just says this because he knows your weak spots. But the way his words fall into your ears makes you believe him. “I like to see my partner thrive; I love to see them grow. And..” he says, boldly deciding to slowly reach out his hand that was placed on the back of the couch- his fingers running through your hair, only brushing through, never pulling (no matter how much you’re craving it secretly). “I love to see them let go.” He humms out, and there’s a sudden shiver down your back, one that he definitely notices.

This is it. This is where you’ll let him touch you, let him wreck you, let him ruin you. You lean in closer, and so does he, but just when your lips are about to touch, he smiles gently- a warm affectionate gesture that you’ve never seen from him. And with it being directed at you, it’s even more meaningful- but it’s all about his next move, the way his inked fingers trace your cheek, before he speaks.

“You’re not ready yet.”

And with that, he turns back to the TV.

You huff, and it's the first time you know exactly what you're doing. You knew from Yoongi what Jungkook did in his freetime- you knew that this stuff was his expertise. Defeated, you looked down towards your knees, as your thoughts start to grow more and more frustrated. He probably didn't even see you like that, having only visited you out of pity, and not because he wanted to see you.

You were probably already friendzoned, and he was too nice to outright say it into your face. It made your emotions turn sour as the situation grew more and more awkward for you.

"What're you thinking about?" He asks, and you don't answer. What was there to say anyways? You really didn't want to have this weird conversation where he would tell you that oh yeah you're a nice girl, but he's not the right guy, the usual stuff you've already heard time and time again. "Y/N." He says, his voice dropping a little, but you only chew on the inside of your cheek again, eyes moving towards the TV screen. You didn't want to talk- you just hoped he would now sigh and get up, leaving so you could forget about all of this. You could maybe fake being sick for the next week or so to avoid him, yeah, that would be enough time to gloss over this entire situation. But he only clicks his tongue, hands suddenly moving your legs as he moves your body to face him.

Looking at his face is your first mistake.

His eyes are dark and almost angry, irritated as he looks as you. His jaw is clenched, and his hands stay on your knees for a moment, before he's sure enough that he has your attention. Only then does he speak, his voice nowhere near as soft and light as it had been before. "I know what you're thinking, and I don't like it." He says, and that's when you make your second mistake.

"Can we not right now? You don't know shit." You say, and he stares you down for a moment, until his head tilts a slight bit, eyes growing predatory as the corners of his lips tilt upwards. It resembles a small smile, yes, but it's not meant to be one. No, the first thing you have to think about is a wolf snarling at you, ready to put his packmate into their place for acting out.

It makes your spine tingle.

"Hm, maybe, but we can be classy about it, no?" He asks, and you scoff, trying to move your legs away from him, as he scans you.

At this point, he can see clearly that you're testing him.

So he gets up promptly, moving you around so you're standing in front of him. His inked hand finds your hair, gripping without mercy as he pulls your head back, your gaze now forced to stay on his as he calmly speaks. "You think I'm not into you like that- and you're as wrong as you could ever get." He says, biting his tongue as to not let a petname slip. He'd love to use them, but he knows that it's not yet time. That would be foul play, in a way; he doesn't want to seduce you.

He wants to make you understand.

"Trust me when I say I'd love to just throw you over my legs to spank that attitude out of you right now." He explains, and you whine- not in pain, but simply as a reaction to his confession. "But you don't know what you're getting yourself into." He continues, and pulls a bit to interrupt your next words. You know that you can get free any second you want to- but for some reason, there's no urge to do so. "You think of this as some game to play, you think of yourself as someone who can take all of it at once, but you don't even get the simplest and most important things about this entire thing." You swallow, as you stay still, finally giving up your fight as he relaxes the grip he still has on you. "Even now, it's not me controlling this situation. Its you." He says, letting go of you as his hands rest on your cheeks, eyes searching for any clues of discomfort. Only when he finds none, does he continue. "I will only ever have as much control over you as you're willing to give to me." He smiles again, this time, warm and comforting. "If you're really willing to do this, we will do this right. You'll have to trust me first, and I'll have to get to know you fully first, before anything else happens. Understood?" He asks.

And you nod.

"Do you know what you just agreed to?" He chuckles, and, shyly, you shake your head.

"See?" He grins, breaking skincontact with you. "You're not ready yet."

His brows furrow when he sees you sitting on the counter, Taehyung talking to you. "What're you doing here?" He asks, and you pout, as Taehyung moves away, not wanting to get involved into anything this time. "Stop that face. We talked about this last week, why're you here now?" He asks, and you tilt your head innocently.

"Maybe I'm here for Yoongi?" You say, and his eyes grow darker for a second, before he composes himself.

"Good try, but he's still off work." He states, and you deflate a bit.

"I just.. wanted to see, I guess." You say, and he smiles a bit impishly.

"Oh? I mean, I have a scene in twenty minutes.." He asks, and internally, you cringe. No, you don't want to see him screw or even touch another woman in the ways you secretly want him to touch you instead. No, you're technically here to maybe talk him into show you at least a little bit. But it doesn't seem like he'll cave in anytime soon, so you sigh out.

"Okay, okay, I'll see you around, I guess." You say, hopping down from the counter before you take a step towards the exit.

"Ah well, I'll drive you home then." He states, and you grow confused as he leans against the counter. "Seeing as my scheduled appointment wants to leave, I have time off." He states, and you skin tingles. "Come on now, before I change my mind." He states, as he walks you outside again, leading you towards his car.

"I didn't mean to turn up so.. I don't know. Sorry." You said, and he gets into the drivers seat, shaking his head.

"I can understand you, trust me." He says, as he starts the engine and drives off. "If you're okay with it, I'd like to get something from my apartment, and then drive to yours." He says, and you tilt your head.

"Why not to the studio, or your place?" You ask, and he nods.

"While those are places I feel comfortable, they're unfamiliar to you. It's best if we start in a place that's comforting and gives you a sense of security." He states, and you nod.

Jungkook, in your eyes, never really seemed as mature as he's acting in those moments. It's as if he switches every time you two change topics; any time this particular one comes up, his mood changing into a serious one. Now, you're not stupid, you know the risks- and of course you had somewhat done your research online about the damages that could occur during all of this. And there's also the not too little chance it really isn't something for you after all- and in a way, that scares you. Because you want jungkook, but what if you don't want.. this?

Instead of voicing that out, you simply keep quiet as he gets out the car, and inside again after fetching what looks like an overnight bag. "You're staying over?" You ask, and he simply throws it on to the backseat.

"Maybe. We'll see." He says, and you don't question him as he drives. "Let's get something to eat. What're you craving?" He asks, as he keeps his attention on the road. He notices how you seem to think, already able to practically see the gears turning inside your head. "Don't think about what I could want. I asked what you want." He says, calmly, and so soft, that you simply let your words out.

"Tae usually get's me food.." You start, and Jungkook nods, as if understanding. You watch him smile a little.

"Let's get some junk food and eat it in the car." He simply states, and you nod, happy that he seemingly really did get what you were trying to say. For you, things like these were almost like rituals- like you and tae getting random icecream just to hurry home every time to not have it melt.

Maybe this would become a memory only for you and Jungkook.

"You're nervous." Jungkook says, speaking out what's obvious. You don't know what he'll do, you're confused whats in his bag- you're nervous, just like he said. "Why is that?" He asks, casually sitting on your bed with you. He had earlier told you not to panic-clean it; he was not there to be impressed. He was simply a visitor for now, nothing more, nothing less. You shrugged. There were a lot of reasons you were nervous. "If you want this to work, I need to have proper communication with you. Guessing will get me nowhere." He says, but his voice is not upset. He's simply informing you.

"I.. don't know what you'll do?" You say, and He smiles, sitting more comfortably, as he shows you his open hands.

"I'm not gonna do anything for the moment." He tells you, and you shrug.

"But wasn't that the plan?" You ask him.

"What would you want me to do then?" He asks instead, not answering your question. He's testing you, he want's to know if you really are aware of everything. He's also not only asking you about what you want him to do to you- but with you, as well. He was unsure if you wanted to romantically involve yourself with him, or simply explore something new at his side.

He's afraid he'd be okay with either, just because its you.

"Are you going to tie me up?" You ask, and Jungkook grins, before he laughs. You're growing shy, unsure, and he instantly makes sure you know he's simply laughing about what you said, not about you. His hand holds yours- and it's weirdly reassuring.

"No, although I can imagine you looking very pretty in that position." He says. "No, come here." He says, lays down on the bed, and you stay where you are, with reasonable distance between you two. "I want you to come as close to me as you feel comfortable. Don't force it- take your time. I'm not expecting anything, please remember that." He tells you calmly, not looking at you to give you mental distance from him as well. His eyes are actually closed, his body relaxed.

You don't move for a moment. You want to test how long he can really play this patient role- but after around five or ten minutes, he's still not moving. He's not even saying anything, and you're unsure if he's asleep or not.

There's only one way to find out.

You carefully lay down a little away from him, on your side, simply looking at him. It's weird to see him like that; you've always imagined him to be a very dominant and demanding person, from what you've heard and seen of him. But Jungkook doesn't feel like any of the guys you've been with; he also doesn't feel like Taehyung, or Yoongi, or Hoseok.. Jungkook, weirdly enough, feels comfortable. He's relaxed, and laid back, and still has that slight glint of power over you.

You move closer, your curiosity getting the best of you as scenes and pictures of him holding you fill your head. Is he even a cuddler? You can't imagine him being all soft and sweet for gestures like that, but then again, you didn't really think you'd ever be in a situation like this either. Maybe you were judging a book by its cover.

He smells nice- that's one of the first things you notice once you get closer. One of his arms is stretched out to the side- his tattooes visible, but partially hidden by his sweater sleeve. You want to look at them, so you test the waters- by touching his arm, just a small poke with your finger. You can see the corners of his lips twitch; he's definitely awake. You move his arm a little, inside facing you as you get a detailed look at his artworks. They're detailed, they fit him, the dark Ink a stark contrast to his skin.

His sweater seems soft.

You slowly lay down again, your head resting on his biceps as you simply lay for a moment.

This is nice.

You feel more and more bold with every minute that passes, not even minding the way he sometimes moves around. You're growing at ease, so much so, that you simply throw all hesitation out of the window, and cuddle up to him. one of your hands is on his chest, while your head rests ontop of the inside of his shoulder.

This is really nice.

"Are you falling asleep?" He asks, voice not loud at all, as his arm moves, palm resting on your forearm as he holds you. You don't mind it- you feel relaxed enough to really actually do fall asleep- so you nod. "That's good." He tells you.

"But didn't you bring stuff to try?" you ask, and Jungkook nods.

"We got time. A small nap is always a good idea." He tells you, and you simply nod- making him smile.

He's glad.

Because by falling asleep on him like that, you don't even know how much you've complimented him at all. You're relaxed enough around him, comfortable enough to let him close to you in a vulnerable state such as sleep. It makes him wonder how far you'd let him go- would you let anyone get so close so quickly? A sudden rush of protectiveness curses through his body, fills him up, as he swears he can't let you go now. No, what if someone else gets you like this? What if someone takes advantage of your open mind like that? He doesn't even want to imagine.

Jungkook really has it bad.

You slowly wake up to a bit of weight on your face. "jungkook what're you doing?" you giggle, and he chuckles as well as he takes the hand away from over your eyes. He looks well rested, with his eyes still not fully open.

"Nothing." He says. "Just teasing." He says, but of course, nothing he does is just random teasing. Everything he does is calculated- it's to test you, to study you, to make sure he gets to know you. "Are you hungry?" He asks instead.

"Not for food."

He has to let that process for a moment, until he laughs. He's really got it with you, he thinks, as he suddenly moves, eyes dark, while he's now ontop of you, his hands holding your wrists. Expecting you to look surprised, he finds none of that however. It intrigues him, the way you don't seem to be nervous or fearful at all. It makes him wonder what you'd really do to him if he was to advance in ways he wanted to. "Careful, sweetheart." He says, and your eyes sparkle with a silent challenge.

"Or what?"

His grip gets a bit tighter at that, eyes a bit darker. "Someone's eager." He says lowly. "Don't you think you're biting off more than you can chew right now?" He asks, before he clicks his tongue, slowly falling into his own headspace. He knows however not to let himself slip. "Give me a random word." He asks, demands, and you say whatever finds your mind in that moment.

"Bunny." You say.

He raises his eyebrow for a second, but doesn't question it. "I want you to say that, loud and clear, as soon as you feel uncomfortable." He lectures you seriously. "It doesn't matter what it is. Physically, or mentally, or if you simply don't want me to continue because. I need you to tell me that you will say it." His gaze is intense, and you nod. "I promise you; I'll never get mad, or upset, or angry, or disappointed with you. My ego isn't worth your safety." He humms out at the end, and your eyes soften.

He notices it instantly, and it affects him more than he'd like to admit.

"I promise I'll say it if I need to." You tell him, and he grows comfortable again.

"Can I touch you?" He asks, softly, and you nod, before verbally answering him with a yes. "Remember; I'll only ever have as much power and control over you as you will give me." He mumbles, head now dipped down to ghost his lips over the skin of your neck. "But once you give it to me-" He says, his knee situating itself in between your legs to spread them in a silent command. "-I won't give it back." He growls, before he bites down, releasing the skin after hearing your delicate mewl, kissing the spot as if to apologize.

He's not sorry.

"Let me ask you.." He says, feeling you rut against his leg that's pressed against your center. "what do you really want from me?" He asks, and you open your eyes, movements slowly coming to a halt as you notice the way he looks at you.

He almost looks uncertain.

"I.." You want him. You know that- you want all of his bad habits and weird quirks. You want to get to know him and everything that comes with it. Hell, he was the main reason you even got into the entire scene in the first place. "You." You say, deciding its best to practice honesty.

"Me?" He asks, genuinely a little confused.

You nod. "Yeah. You." You say. It's a little weird, the whole situation, but you don't mind it. Your hands slowly slip out of his grasp, before they instead intertwine their fingers with his. He feels weirdly caught off guard by the gesture- his past encounters and relationships never having included things like these. So much so, that Jungkook genuinely believed those things to be simple movie-gestures. Overdone, and not realistic. "Like uhm.. if you want to. If you just want to, you know, I.. guess I'd be okay with that too-" You say, looking away, as Jungkook answers.

"I want you too." He answers, eyes searching yours for any glimmer of dishonesty. But he doesn't find it- there is none. There's just you. "I really want you too." He murmurs out, getting closer, before he lets himself loose, his lips finding yours.

He's never been a fan of kissing, but he can very much already imagine kissing you for hours.

Its not just you letting go in that moment, its him too.

Because unbeknownst to you, he's not just opening you a door to his world of unspoken fantasies-

He's also opening his heart as well.

Your first time together is slow and comfortable.

It happens just a day after you had both decided to pursue an actual relationship with one another. He's gentle, careful, but not hesitant. He's exploring.

Inside of his head, he notes down every noise and every twitch of muscle. You sigh as he eats you out, the small ponytail of his unable to hold onto all of his hair as his eyes are partially hidden behind the blonde strands. He's watching you, his fingers having already stretched you out, but then he sits up. You whine, with him having stolen your release for a second time. "Let's play a little, yeah?" He says with an amused yet calm tone. You're already unable to do much about your position; your wrists bound to your bed over your head, carefully tied knots comfortable against your skin, as long as you don't pull. "Legs open." He calls out as you try and close them, and you whine again; testing his patience as you still go ahead and disobey his command. He watches, moves forward, before he pulls them apart again. "You want to cum, no?" He asks, and you nod, frustratedly so. "I wonder what made you think you've earned that reward from me." He tells you, eyes scanning your form as you pull on your restraints a little. He's not fully into his own headspace yet- he's still very much on high alert to notice any signs of discomfort coming from you.

He has to learn just as much as you do.

"You're lucky you're so sweet." He says, before he crawls closer again, his hand on your center, as he enters you with two fingers. Its not enough, but then his thumb draws circles on your clit- and you're approaching, quickly. "Hm? Won't you cum?" And then you say it.

"Can I?"

It's so desperate, so needy, so submissive, that it sends a chill down his spine. He moves closer, kisses your neck, as he can't help but let the rush of it get to him. He is, after all, just as desperate for release. No matter if its his, or yours.

"Such a good girl, of course you can." He tells you. "What a sweet one, such good manners.." He teases playfully, and you tug at your restraints as you come undone under his hands. He unties your wrists and you're holding onto him as soon as you're free, and he lets you hold onto him in your post orgasmic bliss.

Its after a moment that you realize it.

"Wait-" You say, sitting up to look at him. "You- I mean, you didn't get to-" You start, but Jungkook waves it off.

"Its fine, really." He tells you, and you know he's serious. "I'll just wait until it goes down, or take care of it in your bathroom if thats okay with you." He says, patting the side next to him to lay down on. "Come here." He asks, and you comply, before you speak again.

"You.." You start, not looking at him. "Could just take care of it here." You say. "Or I could.." you start, and he looks at you.

"Do you want that, or do you only feel like you have to?" He asks, and you shrug. You take some time, before you answer.

You've seen most of Jungkook until now. From his strong arms, his back, his inked skin, to his thighs and legs. You have seen all- but that. And you've never really considered giving anything back in that way to anyone because of one single embarrassing moment- but with Jungkook, for some reason, you wanted to try.

"I want to." You say, and he nods. "But I don't know how.." You say, and he smiles reassuringly.

"I'll guide you." He tells you, before he scans your face. He's never really felt that desired- at least not in the way he does in that moment with you. "You can take it out for starters." He says, and you nod, before you hesitate a little.

Jungkook is nice, when it comes to that. He's patient, always lets you do the pacing for now, until you trust him enough. This is only the start, after all. You stay cuddled up to his side, but your hand ventures towards his sweats, where you can see his prominent erection still waiting. Slowly, you push the fabric down, both his sweats and boxers underneath- his hips lifting a bit to make it easier for you, until he's freed from his clothes.

You've never really thought much about looks when it came to that department, but Jungkook was, in each and every way, highly attractive. Now you knew, that there was literally nothing about him you didn't desire.

Your first touches are a little hesitant, testing the waters, and Jungkook tries not to react too much to it to give you time. Its when you start to move your hand however, that he closes his eyes, head now completely resting on the pillows beneath as he just decides to enjoy what you might give him. His hips twitch upwards a little after you'd run your thumb over the head, precum glistening while your hand uses it as lubricant to move more smoothly.

He sighs out.

And you grow bold at that, moving to sit up and escape out of his embrace, before you dip down to feed your curiosity. As your tongue touches his skin, his muscles contract, the action not expected since he didn't look what you were doing. You've been told once before that you're not.. the best at this- but Jungkook made you want to try. If you would've looked, you would've spotted the intense stare that Jungkook had been sending your way; mesmerized by the way you tucked your hair behind your ear oh so sweetly, before you let a drop of saliva escape from between your lips, taking him in soon after it had dropped onto his awaiting length.

You really were something else.

He'd gotten head time and time before, and it was never something he didn't like- but he'd also rarely ever cared that much emotionally about the person giving it to him. It's weird, how an emotional connection can make you so much more sensitive to things- such as in that moment, as your tongue moved over his skin while inside your warm mouth, lips heavenly on his cock.

He couldn't imagine what it would be like to be inside you.

There's nothing he could teach you, nothing he could tell you to do, as you moved, sucked and licked. He was breathing heavily already, his hand finding yours as you hold onto it. He sits up, can't help it, has to somehow touch you while you're not letting go of your task. His palm escapes your hand, rests on your head instead, runs through your hair before it grips a little. You moan, vibrations making him throw his head back as he groans out, feeling his end coming closer. "If you don't want to swallow, let go." He grits out, but you suck harder instead, and its when your hand finds his balls that he lets himself fall back onto the mattress beneath, shooting his load into your mouth as you swallow it down.

He's on cloud nine.

You're thoughtful enough to pull his underwear and pants back up, laying on your stomach next to him, waiting, watching, with impish eyes. He looks so radiant, so relaxed, so at ease. It fills you with a weird sense of pride; since in a way, its your doing. "Why did you tell me you don't know how to do that." He comments, rather than asks, slowly calming his breathing back down. His eyes open, hand pushing some hair out of your face. "Thank you. That was amazing." He says, and you shrug.

"Thanks for the compliment." You say, looking at him.

"I have a request." He says, and you nod. "Not like that." He teases, making you blush. "No, but seriously." Jungkook knows that you've been with other people before. It scares him to know that some of your experiences might not have been good- he knows some absolute horror stories Taehyung had told him. "I want you to take all that you've experienced with your former partners.. all those moments, emotions, bad memories, all of it." He tells you, hand now resting on your cheek- a gesture in which you lean into. "And throw them away. Forget them." He tells you.

"This is a new start, for both of us."

"How many clients have you been with?" You ask, casually sitting on the kitchen counter as Jungkook washes the dishes. Its your first night in his apartment, and you're more comfortable than you thought you'd be.

"None." He tells you, and you're ready to snort out a laugh, but he doesn't look at all like he's joking. Seeing your confusion, he continues while scrubbing a plate. "None of us actually have sex with our clients. Some only come to talk, really- others come to let go." He explains, and you nod. "I've never touched, nor been with someone intimately during a scene." He tells you.

"So you had scenes with your partners then?" You ask, and he shrugs.

"In the beginning, yeah." He admits, shrugging. "But I eventually gave up on it. It's not something a lot of people find very appealing. It all looks great in theory, but when practiced, most find its not for them." Draining the sink, he dries his hands on the dish towel, before putting it in its proper place.

"Could you.. imagine a relationship without it?" You ask, and he sighs, shaking his head.

"Not really." He looks at you after a moment. "Its who I am, and its how I love. I can't change that." He tells you, and you nod. Its understandable really, and you like that he has clear lines he likes to follow. It's weirdly comforting to know that he has his life so under control- its all you've ever wanted really.

It's something Jungkook might be able to give you.

It was weird, the feeling of the rope against your skin. He’d been right about it earlier; it wasn’t rough or itchy at all. But maybe that was just because it was him doing it. Maybe he was simply fogging up your senses.

It would make sense.

“Okay?” He humms out, voice gentle and calm while he stops his hands for a moment, palm on your shoulder where it warms up your skin. You’re unsure what okay really means- okay like, he’s finished? Or is he asking if you’re okay? Or is he asking for permission? “Speak to me- don’t just think.” He says, eyes watching you in such a manner that made your slightly trembling body calm down.

“I’m not sure what- what you mean by, okay.” You say, and he smiles, eyes roaming over your body for a moment, but surprisingly not in a way that would make you feel exposed. You’re almost naked, after all- only your most private parts hidden from his sight. You can see the very evident tent in his pants; but he doesn’t seem like he’s frustrated or fazed about it.

“Good Job telling me.” He says first and foremost, and you start to feel warm inside. “I was asking if you were okay. Do you remember your colors?” He asks, and you nod, before verbally answering him with a ‘yes’. He nods again, a hand running over your head, fingers running through your hair affectionately. “Good. I’ll finish the last knots now- remember you can stop at any time. Don’t hesitate.” He says, and you nod.

He grabs the rope again; the tiny fact that he’d chosen one in your favorite color making you feel.. well, you didn’t know. You could feel your nose sting, before it shot into your eyes, making them water; something that Jungkook immediately noticed. “Color?” He asks, and you shake your head.

“Green, Green, I’m okay-“ you say, but you can’t stop the tears. He’s quick to sit down in front of you after tying the last knot- and it’s the first time you quietly look at them. They’re so delicate, so well done, but there’s no time to dwell on it as he lifts you chin gently.

“Talk to me.” He says, hands on your shoulders to give you some sense of stability. You’re safe, you don’t feel bad, but just..

“I don’t know. There’s so much-“ you begin, and he softly smiles, as if you’re not currently completely bound with no chance of proper movement. You take a deep breath, holding it before you release again, silently following the advices he’d given you prior. “Why do I feel so.. comfortable? I feel safe even though I’m in such a dangerous situation- I’m.. this is weird isn’t it, I should be.. I don’t know. Why’re you not doing anything? Wasn’t this supposed to be like, a sex session or something I don’t get it-“ you babble, and he lets you, before he speaks.

“You still don’t quite get it, do you?” He asks, and your glistening eyes stare up at him. “I don’t need something as simple as sex to feel satisfied.” He explains, and you nod, even though you don't quite understand. "I feel euphoric right now, even though you probably won't quite believe me." He says, his smile evident as his fingers trace the knots on your skin. It's there that you see it; the glimmer in his eyes, something you've never seen before with someone else. "The fact that you let me do this, it's all I need." He humms out. He looks at you, a silent question, and you take a deep breath.

You don't quite know what you're doing. Its weird- but seeing him like that makes you feel weightless. It happens slowly, you don't quite grasp what it is, but the feeling is nice. It's like letting go- like standing on the highest platform of the universe and just jumping down. And when you open your eyes, all you see is him.

He can't take his eyes off of you.

He's seen it often enough to spot it, knows what it looks like, but it still holds such a deep meaning to him to see you fall into your subspace for the very first time. You're so beautiful like that, so ethereal and enchanting as you lean forward to get closer to him. He's careful you dont accidentally hurt yourself with the big scissors on the bed close by- emergency equipment to release you asap if needed.

He knows escape is the furthest thing on your mind right now.

Able to do anything he'd want with you, he's not like that however. He's responsible enough to let you float for a moment, before he speaks to you again. "Baby?" He asks, and you nod, nuzzling his shoulder as he holds you close. "You're doing so good. Can you do something for me baby?" He questions again, and you nod, not parting from him however before he talks again. "Can you sit straight for a moment? Just like that, good girl." He praises as you instantly follow his command. "I got you, okay? I got you, you're safe." He repeats, as he slowly unties your body. It's careful reassuring and slow movements that make it possible to untie you- too quickly could make you drop; a state of sudden shift in mental state, that could send you straight into distress. Jungkook doesn't ever want to be the cause of that for you.

You're underneath him, and he's careful, as he undresses after placing the scissors onto the bedside table where it cant lead to any accidents. He also reaches inside the table, pulling out a condom from a box safely stored, before he gets himself ready.

Not even for a second is his attention not on you however.

"Hands up baby." He commands, and you do as he wants, already squirming as he advances towards you, fingers stretching you out as you grow huffy at the prospect of being edged again. He's quick to catch on though. "Hm, I'm not gonna be mean baby." He tells your fuzzy mind. "But I gotta get you ready, no?" Fingers steadily helping you relax, he waits until he deems you ready.

You struggle to keep your hands up as he enters you, but your mind is adamant on keeping his command. He groans out, kisses your neck, as he slowly begins to move lazily. It's enough for pleasure- but not enough to make you cum. "Good fucking girl. Look at you. My baby." He chants, and something inside you stirs at the last words.

His Baby.

You're his.

He wants you.

It makes you whine as he chuckles, nipping at your skin. "You can touch me baby, good job." He says, and your hands are instantly around his neck. You're mumbling something, but its not words. It's not coming out the way you think it does, and Jungkook doesn't mind, doesn't care. Its another one of those things fueling him up, urging him on.

You're his perfect puzzle piece.

He lets go.

"Turn around princess." He says breathless, and you follow his instructions eagerly. His hand rests on the back of your neck for a moment, leaves its place for a second to move your hair away from your face, before he gently pushes down. He's inside in a heartbeat, this time thrusting with more strength.

Something overcomes him that hasn't happened before.

Usually, this position is what he loves most- and yet, it's not what he wants. He wants you, he wants you close, he cant touch you enough. His arms snake around your torso, just underneath the bottom of your breasts, as he pulls you towards him. Your back arches so prettily, and he gasps out, breathing heavy as he continues his attack on your neck. "You're mine." He growls out, can't keep it inside anymore, his grip on you tightening. "Mine." His thrusts stutter, his hand reaches for your center, desperate fingers helping you find your release. It coats your thighs, stains the bed, and he pushes himself as deep as he can once he finishes himself.

He's breathing heavily, he's out of his mind, running on autopilot as his hands still hold you. He pulls out after a moment, a whine from you getting reassured by his own voice, before he leaves the bed, getting a warm damp washcloth ready for you. He's careful, gentle, seems to caress your skin more than clean it, places kisses every now and then and sends praises your way.

"How do you feel?" He asks, voice low and caring as he continues his aftercare.

"Like you love me a lot." You sleepily say, eyes still foggy, and he smiles.

"Good." He tells you, reaching out to kiss your lips, still high on his own afterglow. "That's how you're always supposed to feel like."

"I've quit." He tells you one night on the couch, as you sit close to him. You'd asked him about his sidejob at Yoongi's- and this was his answer. Instantly, you sit up straight, fearing that he might've felt obligated because of you. "Before you start, yes, it was because of you." He says, and you already have the whine in your throat- but it doesn't make it out, as his fingers lazily trace your collarbone peaking out from his shirt you're wearing. "But it was also my decision. I just didn't enjoy it anymore- and you're more I could ever want really." He says, shrugging as you stare at him.

It was still new to you.

Although you knew that he was probably more than just a wild loverboy collecting partners and gaming all day, you never would've thought of him like this. He's a kid at heart still, teasing and playfighting every now and then- but he's mostly a strong shoulder to lean on for you. He really is the security and safety you'd always searched for. "What're you thinking about?" He asks, pulling you closer as he continues watching the TV show.

"You." You say, and he chuckles.

"Cute." He answers. He looks at you for a moment, TV long forgotten, before you crawl over his lap, shirt rising enough to give him free view of your thighs and panties. You've skipped the pants tonight- a habit of yours he enjoys a lot. His palms instantly find the soft skin, running along the outside of your thighs before they find your behind, squeezing, before he slaps it playfully. He grins as you squeal, admiring the way the very tips of your ears turn red. "You're really precious, you know that?" He tells you, and you shrug. "You are." He confirms, and you smile shyly.

"May I kiss you?" You ask, and he smiles warmly.

"We're not in a scene baby, do as you wish." He tells you, and you nod, leaning forward to capture his lips with yours. Its a feeling you can't quite get enough of, and it seems like he enjoys it equally as much. His inked hands find their way underneath your shirt, running over your back and spine as you shudder. He doesn't find what he seeks, your underwear long gone and left in the bedroom, and he loves it, instantly moves to your chest where he finds the soft flesh, his thumb running over one of your nipples teasingly. You're arching your back already, moving around as if you can't sit still. "My baby." He mumbles out, "If you can be so kind and get me a condom, you can ride me if you want to." He tells you, and you nod.

By now you easily know your way around his apartment.

So its no wonder you quickly return from your now shared bedroom, condom in hand as you approach him again, settling onto his lap. You're not shy with him nor his body anymore, eagerly taking the condom out of the package for him to roll it down onto his length. "You good?" He asks, and you nod, pulling your panties aside as you slowly sink down on him.

He lets his head rest back on the couch, and you lean into him, for a change returning the favor of kissing his neck. He's grinning, throughoutly enjoying things, and you love watching him. It's a visual reminder to yourself that this is your doing. You're making him feel that way, and no one else. It makes you confident, and it makes you feel cherished in ways you haven't felt before.

Once you start to move, Jungkooks hands help you along. Its slow and lazy, not at all hurried. There's no real goal; you probably wouldn't even mind not cumming at all. This was just being close- a way of feeling connected in the most intimate of ways. Connected like only lovers could be.

You love him.

And it slips out as a tiny 'I love you' in between your sighs and gasps, and he hears it so clearly, he can't help himself but speed up the pace.

"I love you too." He chants out, kissing the side of your head as you rest against his chest, head on his shoulder. "I love you so much." He says, almost inaudible, his arms holding you as close as he can.

Jeon Jungkook doesn't need sex to feel satisfied.

But he will most certainly need you for now and forever.

And he's totally fine with that.

(c)Bonny-Kookoo. You know the drill. I know where you live. I don't. But still. Be scared. Boo.

#bts imagine #bts #bts fanfic #jungkook imagine #bts fic #bts smut #bts jungkook #jeon jungkook #jungkook #bts reactions #Rabbit Boy AU

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mmvalentine · 3 years

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Okay, so would you be able to write that best friend kiss challenge with Feysand? Like Feyre films herself kissing Rhys (her best friend) just as a joke but then Rhys is super into it and then she’s super into it and it gets spicy😏😏

(obviously she turns the camera off before things get interesting)

Oh you kids and your tiktoks, back in my day tiktoks were called snapchats, and we more or less used them to send nudes. But seriously this trend makes me feel SO ANXIOUS because sometimes they get rejected and I feel it way too hard?! ANYWAY this is fine because this one works out, right????

I Didn't Know

Feyre was addicted.

She had lost count of how many versions of this tiktok she had seen, but she did know that about twenty minutes ago she had to pee and thought 'just one more,' yet here she was, still sprawled across the bed watching best friends kiss for the first time and riding the rollercoaster of second-hand nervous anticipation and then either gut twisting joy or empathetic mortification. Her bladder was not impressed.

It was Mor who had sent her the first one, and then it was all too easy to go down the scrolling rabbit hole. Of course, at the time Mor had added 'You should totally do this to Rhys, I would pay to see his reaction.'

At first, Feyre had thought there was no way that was going to happen. Rhys had been her best friend for the past 7 years, if they were going to date, surely it would have happened by now. Also, she was fairly certain that most of these were set up, because so many seemed to have a shockingly calm reaction to being kissed by someone they had supposedly been platonic with for years. That's just not how things felt when you were best friends.

Of course, she was impressed with how much engagement these videos got, set up or no. And so the next day, when Rhys was spent half the day teasing her about how many more followers he had than her, all she could think about was one very effective way of shutting him up. With Rhys's jawline, she just knew it would do well on social media. And of course it would be a joke. Just a joke.

It happened in the evening. Rhys was going to drop by her place after his last class, since he had finals coming up and his frat house was hardly the ideal study environment. Mor was at her girlfriend's place for the night, so Feyre had the apartment to herself. She set up her phone on the dining room table, propped up against a pile of text books and secretly recording. She made a whole plan of it- first she'd have to stall him by the door to keep him in the shot, and to have enough recording so that she could match the kiss up to the right spot in the music. And she'd have to make sure he was facing the right way so that his reaction would be clear in the shot.

At 6.30pm when Rhys was due to arrive, Feyre texted Mor. I'm doing it, she said. I'm gonna do the best friend kiss challenge on Rhys and he's gonna FREAK.

Mor replied immediately. No fucking way!!! Yes girl get it!!

Feyre laughed. Can you imagine? she wrote back. This will shut him up for sure, he's gonna be standing there looking like a fish with his mouth opening and closing. Like when Az played that prank and gift wrapped every item in his room before Christmas.

Somehow, I think this is going to top that... Mor wrote back.

I just hope he doesn't punch me out of reflex or something, Feyre joked. At that moment, footsteps neared the door from the hallway outside. Gotta go, this is gonna be hilarious, Feyre sent off. She quickly turned the camera on and put it back in its place against the book stack as the knock came.

"Girl I have so many snacks," Rhys said when she opened the door. "I am ready to study." Feyre laughed at his armfuls of assorted packages.

"I didn't realise you were planning a 3 day study lock-in," she said, and stepped out of the way. Rhys headed toward the table, and Feyre panicked. "No!" she yelped. Rhys looked at her, surprised.

"No what?" he asked.

"Uh, give those to me, and you can stay and take of your coat." She hurriedly scooped the bags of chips and chocolate out of his arms and dumped them on the table, while Rhys eyed her suspiciously.

"Okay, you weirdo," he said. He shrugged out of his coat and threw it over the arm of the couch, more than comfortable enough in Feyre's home to know where to put his things. He stepped forward, but again Feyre blocked him. He raised an eyebrow. "What are you doing?" he asked.

"Um, maybe we should study here on the couch," she said. Rhys raised his eyebrows.

"Instead of on the nice big dining table that I can write on, and where you've just moved all my snacks?"

"Yes. I mean no. I mean..."

"Feyre," Rhys said with mock concern. "You are seriously losing it."

"I... ah," Feyre scrambled. Oh what the hell, she only needed to fill a few bars and surely there was enough now. Before she could chicken out, Feyre stood on her tiptoes, grabbed his face in both her hands, and mashed her lips against his.

A heartbeat later, Feyre let go. She realised she had been holding her breath, and exhaled with a whoosh, giggling as she did so. She could feel herself going red, and covered her face for just a second before biting her lip and looking back for Rhys's reaction.

But there was no reaction.

Not at first. For a good three seconds he just stood frozen, and then he found her eyes. Stared at her in complete wonderment, and then with more gentleness than she had ever seen on him, he reached out his hands and lifted her chin back toward him.

Feyre barely had time to register what was happening, when Rhys's lips found hers once more.

This time, instead of the rushed surprise attack Feyre had used on him, Rhys kissed her soft and slow. Feyre's eyes widened, then slid closed, as Rhys's arms wrapped around her waist. His lips were cold from the frost outside, but when her body pressed against his it was warm in his arms, and when he tilted his head and deepened the kiss, she felt the heat of his mouth all the way in her belly.

Feyre wasn't coherent enough to be shocked. She was overwhelmed by the way her body was reacting to Rhys's kiss, and before she knew she had lifted her hands, she had his dark curls between her fingers. He tasted so good she couldn't get enough, and when she lifted up onto her toes to get closer, his fingers dug into her sides. And then the first touch of her tongue had her knees buckling.

"Feyre," Rhys moaned between kisses. "Feyre what are we doing?" He licked at her lips. "I didn't know," he whispered. "I didn't know you wanted this."

"I... I didn't know either," Feyre gasped, and then he brought his mouth back to hers before she could say anything else.

Suddenly, seven years felt so long. How had they not been doing this the whole time? How had they stood being this hungry for all these years, and how could they make up for it now? Feyre breathed in the smell of him, and loved the groan that slipped from his throat when her teeth hit his bottom lip.

"Bedroom," he struggled out, and Feyre only nodded as she untangled herself to move down the hall. Rhys caught her two steps later, pulling her back in to kiss her again.

"I thought you wanted to go to my room," Feyre said breathlessly.

"I did," Rhys mumbled against her lips. "But I first I just gotta-" He finished the sentence by licking her tongue and sucking on her bottom lip. Feyre wanted to laugh, but a second later she couldn't remember why. Besides, her mouth was busy.

"Bedroom," Rhys said again, and this time he took the lead and towed her by the waist.

Feyre only just remembered to grab her phone and hit the lock button, closing the camera off as they went. If she had had the presence of mind, she'd already be embarrassed by how much was recorded, but what did it matter? What did anything matter when her lips were swollen from being bitten and every step took them closer to bed, and Rhys, and Rhys in her bed.

They stumbled down the corridor, then one moment Rhys was roughly pushing the door shut and the next her back was hitting the mattress. Their movements were messy, frenzied. Feyre yanked off Rhys shirt, and he lifted her higher up the bed, and then suddenly there they were.

Feyre's head on the pillow and her legs wrapped around Rhys's hips. Rhys staring down at her with pupils blown wide and kiss-reddened lips. A heavy hardness pressing between them and a still, silent realisation of where they had landed.

They stayed frozen like that for a while, and then Rhys lowered his head slowly and kissed her again, soft and with his eyes open. Is this okay? the kiss said. He lifted his head, but Feyre put her hands gently on either side of his face and pulled him back to her.

More than okay, she tried to tell him back.

Rhys's body turned liquid then, rolling into hers so smoothly that it pressed the air from her lungs so she sighed into his mouth. Feyre knew he had tattoos, but it wasn't often they were on display like this and she couldn't help but think he was beautiful. Rhys changed the angle of the kiss, and moved again. This time his hips grazed hers and that unbearable pressure between Feyre's legs had her arching her back up to him, chasing the wave of his warmth. Rhys growled in his throat, and the vibration of it sent a shiver that echoed to her fingertips.

"Where have you been all my life?" Rhys groaned, as his hand slid under the hem of her shirt. The contact on her bare skin raised goosebumps and then she was feeling him everywhere. Suddenly her t-shirt was too rough, and her jeans intolerable.

"I've been here," Feyre gasped, hands reaching for Rhys's back and chest and shoulders. Needing to feel his skin, too. "I've been right here."

She lifted her arms to help Rhys get her shirt off, pulling him back down to her as soon as she could. He kissed her again and this time the line of contact down the bare fronts of their bodies burned between them.

"How did I not know?" Rhys asked, seeming to be talking to himself more than her. He slid a hand behind her back to get at her bra clasp, and then she was shivery and naked before him. She only had a second to be self-conscious about this before he squeezed one of her breasts in his hand, and put his mouth over the other. And then all she wanted was him touching her.

Rhys moved his tongue slowly over her nipple. Flicked back and forth over it, and the feeling somehow seemed to repeat itself in the apex of her thighs. Feyre's fingers tightened in the thick mop of his hair, and Rhys shifted across to the other nipple. She was just thinking she could die from pleasure like this, when he kissed in between her breasts. Down her sternum, slowing as he reached her belly. Almost reverent when he nipped at her navel, and traveled lower still.

Rhys undid the button of her jeans without lifting his lips from her skin. His hands tugged at her waistband, and when Feyre raised her hips for him to get them off, his mouth slipped downward again, and his kiss landed over her clit through her underwear.

Feyre jolted up toward him, and Rhys slid her jeans the rest of the way off her feet. He licked against the cotton of her panties, until she was panting beneath him and squirming to get closer. Finally, he pulled off the last of her clothing, and when his tongue hit her bare pussy she could have sworn she blacked out for a second.

"Mmm," Rhys hummed against her. "You taste like fucking heaven." Feyre's hands scrabbled in the sheets and then gripped Rhys's head as he moved, first in broad, rough strokes with the flat of his tongue, then flicking faster over her clit with the tip like he had on her nipple. He reached out a hand to squeeze at her breast, and the other one smoothed over her chest to hold her down.

"Can you come like this honey?" Rhys asked her, before taking her clit into his mouth in slow, suckling kisses. "I would love it if you came on my tongue." He slid it deep inside her. "Please Feyre." Returned to flicking over her clit. "Do it, please, for me."

And to Feyre's absolute surprise, she did. Came with her fists in in Rhys's hair and her legs wrapped around his head. She never came on the first time with someone. Then again, Rhys wasn't just anyone. Rhys kept his tongue moving as her hips came up off the bed, not letting her down until her climax had faded into ragged breaths.

Rhys stood then, and unzipped his own jeans. As soon as he was leaning over her again, Feyre reached down to palm his cock through his black boxer-briefs. Rhys moaned softly, and buried his face in her back as he pushed himself into her hand.

"Yeah baby, touch me," Rhys whispered, and guided her hand under his waistband.

If Feyre was honest, she would have to admit that it had crossed her mind before what Rhys might look like naked. Her eyes had snagged below his hips when he was wearing sweatpants, or was fresh out of the ocean. They had been friends a long time. And how could you not notice when Rhys looked like this?

But having her hands on him was something entirely different. Feyre curled her hand around him, and when she stroked up and down the length of him she felt first a little intimidated by his size, and then second deliciously in control when a light groan was coaxed from his lips.

"Like this?" she asked. Rhys moaned louder.

"Yeah, just like that," he said, and the muscles in his chest flexed above her. Rhys's eyes closed, and he bit down on his lip as she twisted her hand around him. It was so sexy, Feyre was moving her free hand down her own body to touch herself at the same time.

It only took a minute for Rhys to notice, and then a wicked grin was tugging up the corner of his mouth.

"You need some too, huh?" he asked, and then he took both her hands and laced his fingers through hers. Laid them either side of her face as he settled himself back down between her legs, and then lifted her hands around his neck as he kissed her.

Rhys looked her seriously then.

"Is this okay?" he asked quietly.

"Yes," Feyre breathed. Rhys rolled his hips against her, and watched her lips part and her head tilt when he did it.

"You want more?" he asked.

"Yes," Feyre said again, and felt his cock twitch between her thighs.

"You want me inside of you?" he asked roughly.

"God yes," Feyre said, and then Rhys was lifting his hips and pushing inside her.

Their eyes locked, and they exhaled together as Rhys hit his hilt. Then Rhys's gaze flicked to her mouth, and he moved, out and back in, and the stretch of him was the sweetest ache.

"Fuck, Rhys," Feyre whimpered, grabbing his shoulders. He looked at her quickly.

"Okay, honey?" he asked. She laughed breathlessly and then nodded, and Rhys thrust again and she gasped as her head fell back against the pillow. "Am I hurting you?" he said. Feyre shook her head, and arched her back to get him deeper.

"Shit," Rhys barked. His hips snapped forward and his palm hit the mattress. He drew a breath through his nose, seeming to get himself under control, and then began a smooth rocking that had Feyre's eyes rolling back in her head.

"I wish I had known," Rhys said, and the words were almost despairing. "I wish I had you like this every day." Feyre's hands fluttered at his chest. "I'm so sorry."

"Don't apologise," Feyre frowned. She lifted her hips to him. "I want you."

"You've fucking got me," Rhys said, and then pulled out only to flip her over and come back from behind. Feyre moaned at the way he got deeper this way, and dropped to her forearms.

"You feel so good," she breathed.

"Oh yeah?" Rhys asked. He reached around and put two fingers over her clit. "What about now?"

Feyre got louder as the pleasure got sharper, and then her vision was clouding at the edges.

"You gonna come again for me baby?" Rhys said. Feyre couldn't answer. "You want it a little harder?"

"Yes," she gasped.

"Will you come if I fuck you hard?"

"Yes, oh god yes. Please Rhys, please."

"I'd never say no to you," Rhys said, and his free hand gripped her hip tight as he pounded into her while those fingers, now dripping wet, moved over and over her clit. "You're gonna make me come," he panted. "You look so good like this." His hips sped up. "But you gotta come first, honey. Come for me."

Feyre's spine stretched and her back arched as release found her. Rhys was so deep in her she could feel it in the bottom of her stomach, and then he was falling right behind her, and the sounds he made when he came were so damn hot she broke out in goosebumps.

Finally, Rhys dropped to the bed beside her, and pulled her down onto his chest. Feyre breathed deeply and was gratified to hear Rhys's heart going as fast as hers. She smiled into his skin, and breathed in the warm smell of him.

"Is this weird?" Rhys asked after a few minutes. His thumb stroked at her elbow.

"No," she said truthfully. She looked up at him. "Is it weird for you?"

"Honestly?" Rhys tucked an arm behind his head. "It now seems weirder that we weren't doing this the whole time." He looked at her. "What made you finally make a move?"

And that's when Feyre remembered the tik tok.

Her eyes went wide, and she felt herself going red. Rhys was bewildered. "What?" he asked. Feyre just shook her head. "You really can't tell me after we just did that?"

"Uh. I was um. Doing a tik tok?"

"You were what?"

"You know. The best friend challenge. I wanted to video your reaction if I kissed you."

Rhys pulled back suddenly. "Wait so you didn't actually want to kiss me? You just wanted a reaction video?"

"No! Well- yes, but I didn't know!" Feyre wailed.

"Know what?"

"That I wanted you so much."

Rhys blinked at her. After a tense second, his mouth twitched.

"So," he said, "in actual fact, you filmed your own reaction."

"What do you mean?"

"You surprised yourself. That's really embarrassing." He settled back down. Feyre picked up a pillow and whacked him with it.

"Shut up," she mumbled, and Rhys laughed a beautiful laugh and kissed her so sweet it made her dizzy.

****

Sweet and spicy, order up.

PS I just want to say that in modern AUs I usually make sure to like make some kind of condom reference because I'm trying to be realistic/ a good role model but this time I just COULDN'T BE BOTHERED sorry have safe sex kids.

MASTERLIST

TAGLIST: @ghostlyrose2 @highladysith @stardelia @feysand-loml @tillyrubes10 @ratabrasileira @live-the-fangirl-life @maybekindasortaace @annejulianneh111 @thebonecarver @rowaelinismyotp @loosingdreams @whythefuckdoiexist @inejsarrow @swankii-art-teacher @sjmships @courtofjurdan @teddytdr @positivewitch @thalia-2-rose @darling-archeron @rapunzel1523 @fairchildjace @philosophorumaurum02 @story-scribbler @allthecolorsneverseen @asteria-of-mars @fandomstalker27 @realbookloverproblems

#asks #prompt fill #feysand #feysand fic #acotar #mine #can you tell i don't actually use tiktok or know how it works #i watched so many tiktoks for this #okay if you've made it this far through the tags welcome to story time #there is one and only one time i made the first move #on a friend who i had been in love with for like 4 years #and we were never single at the same time until one day we were #and he was feeling sorry for himself #and wanted me around so he picked me up one night and we were hanging out at his house #and he's like 'i just want what you want yknow'#and i take a deep breath inside and im like cool well date me then #anyway i'll spare you the details #but it didn't end well #it wasn't just a no #he strung me out for weeks before rejecting me #and now we don't talk because he felt too weird about it #and it guts me #another time i was in love with my best friend and he had a GF and he wanted to fuck me but not date me yeah it wasnt good #and now we don't talk either because he started treating me like shit #in conclusion #i'm never putting myself out there like that again. cool? cool.

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emletish-fish · 3 years

Video

youtube

@sneezylife my beloved!

So, Zutara Fam, I have discovered a gem that I need to share. This video!! This amazing video!! I have never been more entertained by anything on youtube. I was enthralled for the entire 2+ hours - and it doesn’t even touch the sides of what makes Zutara so great. If this lovely lady made more videos about Zutara, she would still have an enormous amount of content to get through - and I would watch the shit out of all of them.

anyway, things I love in no particular order:

1 the humour. this is funny as all hell. I was laughing so hard I wheezed sometimes.

2. The master class in literarcy crit. By focusing so much on the structural issues/storytelling aspects, this vid is actually such a helpful and fun introduction to lit crit, because there is always a brief, entertaining and very valid explanation of the aspect before she dives into it. Through a Zutara lens, we get to know how pacing, structure, arcs, common story beats of the superhero and romantic genre, themes, and tropes affect all stories. Anyway, watching this made me feel like I was back in uni, in the most entertaining and informative class ever. I want to do the all further reading and I can’t wait for the tutorial discussion!

3. So respectful and polite, no feathers are ruffled here.

4. New ideas!! I was sucked down the Zutara rabbit hole long ago, and I thought I had plumbed the depths of this place, seen every rant and read every hot take - but this video has some refreshing ideas that I had never even considered.

5.Absolute vindication. Ah, 21 year old me would have been shrieking with delight over this. Because ATLA is the first TV show that made me feel like I was stupid at television. That all my friends were too.

Full disclosure: I saw ATLA many years after it was completed on a holiday with friends when I was 21. We were playing the ATLA drinking game, and only one of us had seen it before. This MF was smirking like all hell when one of us decided a new rule after the Ember Island Players.

We were going to do a tequila shot when Zuko and Katara finally got together.

Because they obviously would.

because Katara and Aang had just had a massive and unresolved fight, and Katara and Zuko were only growing closer and all the signs were just THERE. like it was so obvious that was where the story was heading. Aang still had to let her go, at some point right? So the story was clearly gearing up for that.

I had my lime and salt, and I was ready!!

Record scratch sound - So this resulted in five of us, shots in hand, staring stupid like at the screen, like “what? Wait? What??? no...reallly, what???” while Katara frenched at 12 year old, and the MF who knew how it was going to end laughed his arse off at our gormless and confused faces.

but I have always stood by my original confusion. that ending made no damn sense, and this video lovingly and hilariously and very informatively explains why.

If you like Zutara, go watch it!

Note: I am aware that this came out many weeks ago, but I have only just discovered it, so I am reccing it for all the people out there who have yet to be blown away by how amazing it is. Pay it forward friends!

#video recs #things emletish loves #Zutara #Zuko #Katara #ATLA meta #ATLA lit crit #honestly #a masterclass is right here #its everything I love about lit crit in such a fun package

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raineeskiesabove · 4 years

Text

His Truth | Albedo x Sucrose HC & Oneshot (ish)

Using the hc that Albedo is a homunculus, but the nature of this creature ranges across works of fiction I’ve seen, so the rest is based on my own interpretations;;

These two may be brainy in their respective fields of study, but romance is an entirely new ballpark for both of them

They’re both complete dorks when it comes to “wooing” a special someone, and are too shy to admit their feelings. At least for Sucrose, anyway. Albedo’s feelings are a bit more complicated, as he questions whether or not his feelings are even real.

Albedo isn’t human. His feelings aren’t human. It wouldn’t be fair to let Sucrose grow so close to him. It would only be a matter of time before he would lose control, losing whatever “self” he had managed to develop over the years.

At first, Albedo treated Sucrose like everyone else- slightly distant, but with respect. However, over time, he grew fonder of the other alchemist, of her devotion to alchemy and her sweet personality. Over and over, he’d insist that she could drop the “Mister”, but she never seemed to listen. It was this pressure, of Sucrose respecting him so much, that made him all the more convinced that she shouldn’t grow close to him. The real him wasn’t who she thought he was.

“Sucrose, this is a busy time of research for the both of us. Please keep all conversations short and to the point,” he would begin to say, using a purposefully cold and icy tone.

“Y-yes of course, Mister Albedo!” Sucrose would always comply with his wishes, even if his words stung a little. But she had the tendency to ramble, and simply figured that perhaps he had grown tired of her constant questions, observations, and other such things.

For a while, Sucrose accepted Albedo’s new terms, only asking for his attention when she knew he had a job for her. No more questions about his work. No more asking for guidance. Perhaps, she thought, he was testing how well she could research on her own! She knew she was lying to herself, but Sucrose would do anything to reassure herself that Albedo didn’t truly dislike her.

One day, Sucrose left town alone to collect some samples out in the fields of Monstadt. She hadn’t told anyone where she had gone.

By this point, Albedo was mentally tearing himself apart from the inside out, realizing that he could not bear the burden to live like this. He knew that this hurt her. He could see it every time they passed in the hallway- instead of offering a shy wave, she simply looked away and continued walking. She never visited him in his lab anymore. She never asked questions, told him about the subjects she was most fond of.

But what was more concerning were the changes his body undergone since he had shut Sucrose out. At first it was barely noticeable: a hairline fracture, what seemingly appeared to be a crack, running down from the bottom point of the star on his neck. The crack led to nowhere, and didn’t chip upon his inspection, so he was forced to leave it be. As the days passed, more and more cracks began to appear, now stemming from all sides of the star marking. Soon, the cracks caused the outer layer of his skin to chip off, revealing an unnatural, gold interior beneath. These areas were extremely sensitive, like the star on his neck, making work very difficult to accomplish.

Albedo fell into a state of depression, now without care for whatever happened around him. He could barely sleep at night from how intense the markings felt, but resisted the urge to show anyone. Unlike himself, who eagerly devoured stories of the unknown, the other seeing him would frighten them.

He spent the following days mindlessly doodling Sucrose over and over again. He’d drawn her before, already memorizing each detail down to the strands of hair on her head. Thoughts of her ran through his mind almost obsessively, and he simply couldn’t understand why. He cannot love. It isn’t real. He is hardly real. He needed to let go of her, but any attempt to detach himself proved fruitless.

Only one event, after almost half of his skin had decayed, roused him from bed. A knock at his door.

“Albedo?” It was Jean. “Have you seen Sucrose? No one has seen her since yesterday, and we checked her lab. She isn’t anywhere in town, and I’m getting worried...”

Sucrose? But she never left the city unless it was to accompany him- oh.

He was such a fool.

Pulling up his hood, leaving his hair down, Albedo opened the door swiftly, saying nothing as he passed Jean in a hurry.

The only lead he had to go off of was her elemental traces, which were already fading due to it being a day since her disappearance. Not to mention that he had to move slowly, due to how sensitive every movement felt.

Half a day passed, and Albedo began to fear the worst when the trail led to the Thousand Winds Temple. So many, too many monsters dwelled within this area. It was much too dangerous for one to go alone, especially for Sucrose, who lacked a particularly reactionary element. And by now, a steady stream of rain had begun to fall around him.

Finally, he found her laying lifeless against the cold concrete, surrounded by a Ruin Guard that had seemingly lost interest in her.

If one emotion he never felt was love, the other was anger. Pure, white rage that blinded every other thought telling him to be rational. These feelings were simply overwhelming, his heart feeling like it would burst at any moment.

Defeating the Ruin Guard in a monstrous explosion of geo energy, he rushed to Sucrose’s side quickly, checking for a pulse.

Weak, but alive. Severely injured, but still breathing.

“Sucrose... Sucrose, can you hear me?” Even in a situation as dire as this, Albedo felt his voice come out calmly and even.

At first she thought that she was dreaming. She had convinced herself that she would die out here, that no one would come looking for her. Especially not the one sitting above her now. Her glasses had long been lost, but instantly she knew who it was. Even the act of breathing hurt, but the relief of seeing his face caused a smile to bloom on her lips, a laugh to escape her throat.

“Y-you came,” she whispered.

“Yes,” was all he could say before the tears escaped him, running down his face relentlessly, falling onto the girl below. His sobs were strangled and raw, echoing throughout the plaza they were in. A stream of “sorries” and “forgive mes” were mixed throughout his cries, Albedo’s chest heaving from the sudden burst of emotion. Never in his life had he cried. Never had he experienced the true feelings of sorrow and regret.

She lifted a hand to cup his cheek, perplexed by the gold plating of it, but more concerned with the distress he was in. Never had she seen her cool and collected teacher so vulnerable.

To both of their surprises, her touch did not cause him to recoil, nor did it sting him. But rather, as she held her hand in place, the gold began to fade, again growing encased within his usual skin color.

He held her hand against his cheek tightly, now desperately holding onto it. He had almost lost her, but he wasn’t going to make the same mistake a second time. In terms of his condition, he didn’t understand why he had begun to decay, nor did he understand why she could repair it. But she simply could, and that was enough for him to accept that he needed her.

She insisted to now sit up, which he initially declined to endorse, but her insistence was enough to make him back down in his vulnerable state. Sitting in silence, she broke it with a nervous giggle, noting how both of them weren’t having a very good day.

Through his tears, Albedo couldn’t help but let a chuckle escape him, his forehead falling against hers. The movement caused Sucrose to freeze, shocked by his sudden and uncharacteristically bold move. In her trance, she barely noticed that he had guided her hand to the star on his neck, her touch causing a faint glow to emanate from the marking. Through his clothes, the two could see the rest of his gold spots lit up, the glow fading as her touch closed the openings.

“Mi- ah... A-Albedo, I don’t understand. Are you alright? The unusual markings on the surface of your body looked uncomfortable. Why... why was my touch so effective in counteracting them?”

“That is... beyond the realm of my understanding, Sucrose. But, I seek the truth of this world, do I not?”

She nodded, but secretly wondered what that had to do with her question.

“A long time ago, my master gave me one final task: discover the truth of this world. Days grew into months, months into years, and I never found an answer that I could accept. I grew worried that I would never be able to unravel the mystery presented by my master. Logically, this is likely an incorrect answer, but the truth of this world, my truth of this world... For now, I would like to define it as the love that I hold for you. It is... a bit of a foolish answer, isn’t it?”

“...no. No, not at all,” she whispered, closing her golden eyes. A small smile graced her lips, a gentle breath escaping her nose as her shoulders relaxed.

Perhaps it was only seconds, maybe hours, that they stayed rooted in this spot. But there was still one thing they both knew for certain, regardless of the passage of time around them. In the middle of this damp, abandoned site lost to time, Albedo and Sucrose shared their first kiss.

Eww the formatting HAHA;; Ma’am it is 130am wtf am I doing. I am so sorry if the writing and concepts make no sense lmao I fell down this rabbit hole and it became a pseudo oneshot that probably needs a lot of editing I’m too lazy to do rn. Til next time homies <3

#genshin #genshin impact #genshin headcanons #genshin impact albedo #genshin albedo #albedo #genshin impact sucrose #genshin sucrose #sucrose x albedo #sucrose #alberose #genshin alberose #albedo x sucrose #genshin impact oneshot #kreideprinz

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itsclydebitches · 3 years

Note

Until proven otherwise, my headcanon is that both Ironwood and Watts survived and are going to team up again out of necessity lmao.

HI, ANON. So let me tell you about how this simple, silly sentence sent me down a 4k writing rabbit hole. “Lol I’m going to write a little parody about that” I thought to myself and then somehow? It got serious?? I honestly don’t know what this fic is, but I’m chucking it at everyone anyway.

Also, I changed the whole “Atlas and Mantle are immediately submerged in water” plot point because it’s my coping mechanism and I get to choose the canon we ignore.

***

Once upon a time there were two villains having a Very Bad Day.

The first, Arthur Watts, had survived an explosion, being buried under rubble, and the threat of a ten-story drop only to find himself suffocating amidst a magically produced fire. A horrible way to go, all things considered. Painful, of course, but more importantly, no self-respecting man should die with soot on his clothes.

Or leave behind a charred corpse.

In fact, Watts had just begun to acknowledge the full indignity of his death when the momentum he'd felt — just there on the periphery of his awareness — suddenly ceased, Atlas crashing into Mantle and throwing him with a squawk in the process. His head took a nasty hit against one of the desks, the smoky gray of the room growing darker, and by the time Watts had come to, the fire had been replaced by water.

Ice-cold water, lapping up to his knees.

"Well," he said, lifting a sodden boot. "I suppose this is an improvement."

***

Elsewhere, James Ironwood — former General of the now sinking Kingdom of Atlas — was lying facedown on the stone of the outer vault, contemplating his choices. Upon reflection, no, he didn't regret what he'd done, but it would have been nice if things had turned out...any way other than this.

"Fuck," he said to the empty hall, enjoying the reverberation. He deserved that much at least.

In time, Ironwood was able to pick himself up off the floor, supported as much by the fact that he'd been knocked out by his own blast as his shaky, barely-there aura. Up the elevator running on emergency dust reserves, through the corridors that groaned ominously under damaged supports. Ironwood headed towards the military headquarters purely out of habit and as he did the sound of water grew stronger, almost like waves, until there was an inch of it across the floor, more trickling in from the staircase. Ironwood had been watching his boots splash with each step, almost mesmerized, and didn't look up until another pair unexpectedly entered his view.

Watts froze in the act of wringing out his pantleg, eyes wide. His expression, the water, how the hallway tilted downward at a slight angle... it all felt like something out of a dream. Ironwood just watched as Watts watched him, until his eyes traveled to the gun clipped on his belt. Ironwood hadn't even realized he'd picked it up.

"Here to kill me, James?" Watts said.

"No." He knew it was true as soon as he'd said it. The mere thought of starting another fight right now was... exhausting. "Do you intend to kill me?"

"Oh really. Does it look as if I'm in a position to fight you? Do use your head for once. I have no weapon, no aura — damn fire ate it all up — I feel as if I've swallowed a hot coal, I am wet — "

Ironwood turned partway through the ramble, meandering back up the way he'd come. He'd passed through two checkpoints before realizing that Watts was not only still talking, but following him.

"What do you want?" he asked, more to shut the man up than out of real curiosity. If Watts was capable of reading the difference between the two, he didn't show it.

"Cinder."

"Cinder?"

"I don't make a habit of allowing people to try and murder me without consequence, James!"

"She's gone."

"Yes, thank you for that stunning bit of info! There's no possible way I could have realized that for myself. What's gotten into you? They left us, fool. Salem, Cinder, Neo, Emerald, even your so-called allies... they all deserve the worst that we can grant them. Though right now, I'd settle for wringing that idiot Pietro's neck. Ten years I gave to that research and he rendered it obsolete with a single report, all because he wanted to play father to some stupid hunk of metal. I never would have gone to Salem if — " Watts cut off, hands balled into fists.

Ironwood just blinked dazedly, coming to a halt. He searched his uniform, the scroll he'd stashed there miraculously whole. Dimly, he registered that he should be feeling some sort of emotion right now.

"I can do that," he murmured.

"What?"

But Ironwood was already keying in the code, the desire to complete a task, any task, taking hold. Watts looked on, mouth twisted in a deprecating sneer.

"I already took out communications, in case you failed to notice."

"But not the trackers I had installed in my top scientists." Ironwood held up the screen where a small, red dot was blinking. "Pietro's still here. Looks like he's out near the mine with a second aura signature. If you want to...?" He wasn't going to finish that sentence.

"I see," Watts said in a tone that heavily implied he didn't. "And you'd just give me this information out of the evilness of your heart?"

Ironwood considered that. "I killed a man yesterday, tried to kill two others, and was ready to bomb all of Mantle to keep the rest of my Kingdom safe. I don't care what you do with the man who betrayed me."

"...fair enough."

Except after five steps Ironwood realized that Watts wasn't following him. He was looking down at his arms, still as a hunted hare.

"You put trackers in all your scientists?" he asked.

"A requirement I implemented after you went missing."

"Ah! Ingenious. Lead the way then."

***

The way led to the tundra, an environment that neither of them were prepared for. Watts was wet from the waist down and Ironwood had long ago learned that snow and metal didn't mix. Neither had the aura for the kind of storm that was raging either. Luckily, the panic of Salem's invasion had left plenty of vehicles to purloin and soon they were speeding East with the heat on, the faint beeping on Ironwood's scroll growing stronger.

He'd felt the impact of his city crashing down and the two of them had clamored out of Atlas' husk, dropping into rubble and cracking ice. Still, the true destruction wasn't evident until they were moving away from it. Through the rearview mirror, Ironwood could see pillars of smoke from fires that the water hadn't yet smothered, dark shadows that could only be grimm, and Atlas itself, plunged halfway into Mantle. It wasn't noticeable from this distance, but all of it was sinking.

"I was lucky," Ironwood said, his voice hollow. His eyes flicked back to the expanse of snow ahead of them. "If Atlas had tipped the other way, the vault would have flooded. I'd have drowned."

Watts snorted. "I'm lucky. That damned water put out Cinder's fire. I'd have burned."

Neither felt particularly lucky and for fifteen more minutes, neither was keen to discuss it.

***

Once upon a time, two heroes were having a Very Bad Day.

"You've got to be shitting me."

Maria paused in the act of bandaging Pietro's leg, mechanical eyes narrowing at the two figures that had seemingly appeared out of nowhere. Watts sucked in a breath at the duo. Ironwood gave a small, awkward wave.

Then he nodded his head at the scene: one old, exhausted woman and a paraplegic currently bleeding into his chair. "So... going to kill him?"

Watts ground his teeth. "Well now that just feels like a fool's errand. Look at him. He's pathetic!"

Pietro was slumped at an uncomfortable angle, sporting a gash in his leg and an impressive display of bruises across his face. Maria, in contrast, seemed to have only lost her hair tie.

"Pathetic?" she spat. "Your lackey did this!"

"Who?"

"Angry girl with the creepy arm."

"Ah, it all comes back to Cinder." Watts pinched the bridge of his nose. "Yes, thank you for recognizing that I was her superior, but no, I didn't send her to kill the likes of you. Must have done it on her own, the little idiot. Don't believe me? I was in jail at the time, if I recall correctly. Isn't that right, James?"

"You were helping me hack Penny."

Maria let out a skin-crawling cackle. "Why do you think the girl was here? She blew a hole in the bottom of Amity! Penny tried to hold us up, but..." she swallowed, still pressing against Pietro's leg, but turned warily towards them. "You hacked her? You did that? What precisely do you think happens when a man who never learned to apply aura as a shield crash-lands in this hunk of junk!"

"I expect most men in that position perish," Watts said smoothly. "The fool is lucky to be alive, but he won't be for much longer if you keep trying to staunch the wound with your soiled gloves. Move aside."

"Get away from me!"

"Oh, put your stick down, you old bat. I'm trying to help."

"Why?" Ironwood hadn't realized he'd spoken until Watts was glaring daggers his way.

"So I can kill him later myself!"

Still surreal. Still dream-like in its absurdity. Ironwood listened to the bickering between Watts and... Mary? Maria? He wasn't even sure. He wandered away, content to gaze out through one of the windows at his Kingdom. Or what was left of it. He idly massaged his left arm, trying to rid himself of a pain that wasn't there, and when the howl of a grimm reached them across the snow, he shivered.

His unlikely companions screamed at each other loud enough to reverberate through the whole building. There were the sounds of two bodies trading blows, but only for a moment. Pietro, voice groggy and high-pitched with terror, demanded to know where his daughter was.

"She's dead," Ironwood said. He didn't turn to see their expressions, didn't need to. "Winter she... she defeated me as the Winter Maiden. That can only mean one thing."

"One thing to you, perhaps." Ironwood did turn then, watching stoically as Pietro tried to right himself in his chair, Watts cursing as the leg continued to bleed. "Where is she? I want to see my little girl. I can heal her, fix her — " he broke off, doubling over with a cough that splattered more blood into his hands.

"Maybe you could have," Watts said, a cruel satisfaction in his voice. "If her little friends hadn't made her human."

Some of the pieces fell into place then. His Lamp, long missing, had apparently wound up in Neo's hands, then Salem's, before it was finally used by Cinder. Watts described — with immense pleasure — the plan the group had concocted and the wish they'd asked of Ambrosius. He'd been a bit preoccupied with bomb duty to learn the details, but he knew that Cinder lived and Ironwood, it seemed, knew that Penny had perished. What a tragedy. Do you know how to bring back the non-mechanical, Doctor?

Ironwood honestly thought the old woman was about to kill him, murderous intent put on hold only because Pietro collapsed then, curling in on himself as sobs wracked his frame. The only words that escaped the mess of tears were "Penny" and then "Maria," one hand reaching out blindly for comfort. Pietro found it, the two holding onto each other as Watts sat at their feet, grinning up at the display.

Ironwood thought only, So that is her name.

The other, crucial bit of info was that everyone was gone. Dead or evacuated, it didn't matter. As far as any of them knew, they were the last four in Atlas, with Salem on her way to destroy whatever kingdom next took her fancy. It was over. They'd lost. And despite the horror of it, the realization was oddly freeing too.

When Maria asked in a tone edging on hysteria what precisely they were going to do — because it seemed this was a "we" situation now — Ironwood suspected she meant in the short term. What were they going to do about their wounds? The grimm? Finding and reaching the others? But those were foolish concerns, the thinking of someone who'd never had a kingdom's life in their hands. Ironwood knew there was only one answer here, the same one he'd had from the start.

"You can do whatever you like," he said. The metal of Amity sparkled against the rising sun, leaving splotches of color behind his eyes. "I will defend Atlas."

Maria's mouth dropped open and Watts stared. Even Pietro ceased his crying long enough to suck in a breath.

"Defend it from what?" he asked.

Ironwood shrugged. "The grimm. Salem. I don't know. I don't care. To quote a former friend, I have never wavered in defending the Kingdom of Atlas against its enemies and I don't intend to start now. This is my city and I won't leave it."

"It's sinking!" Watts cried, overlapping with Maria's, "We need to help" and though so much softer, quieter, more innocent than the spittle Watts was scattering across the floor... that single word sank its teeth into Ironwood. The woman may as well have stabbed him.

"Help?" he said. "Help? I tried to help! Everything that I have done in the last two days — the last two years — my life! — has been to help not just Atlas, but everyone I feasible could. Don't talk to me about help when you and Ms. Rose did everything you could to stop me. I had planned to help the world and you all lied. You betrayed. You set your weapons against me and kept me from saving what parts of my Kingdom I could. Tell me again: what precisely did you do to help?"

He'd crossed the distance, one hand on his holstered gun and the other leaning against Pietro's chair, using it to leverage himself down into Maria's space. Ironwood didn't need to see her eyes to know the emotion they held.

"I," she spit, "didn't try to bomb a city."

And just like that the fight in him was gone. It had barely existed in the first place. Ironwood straightened, swaying slightly on the balls of his feet. "No. You didn't. So it's as I said, go help if you want. If you can." His gaze slid to Watts. "You were one of her men. That says it all." Pietro. "You helped them reveal Salem to the world. Will she have time to destroy the other kingdoms before the grimm do it first?" Maria. "And I don't know you, but you don't earn a prize like that without seeing combat." Ironwood lifted his metal finger, tapping it against Maria's goggles. She flinched away. "Can you honestly say you haven't made mistakes?"

"You and I are nothing alike!"

"I didn't say we were."

Ironwood turned and walked away, as steady as he could manage as the world grew a little darker, despite the sunrise. Behind him Watts' voice rang out like a shot.

"So that's it then? The captain goes down with his ship? You idiot!"

He paused. "Not quite. It turns out I'm not the only idiot around these parts. Ms. Rose left the vault open." One last turn to savor their shocked expressions. "That's where I'm going. There are still plenty of airships if you'd like to leave, but just remember: they abandoned you too."

Perhaps he should have been surprised that by the time his boots hit the snow, three more footsteps were sounding behind him. Frankly, in fourteen hours time Ironwood would barely remember their conversation, let alone everything that came after it. One of them drove back to the sinking city. Someone tested the ice before they cautiously crossed it. Someone else dispatched the stray grimm foolish enough to get in their way. Ironwood saw and heard none of it. He walked with the determination of a wind-up toy, wobbling now that he'd reached the end of his string. Cool blues, a shining gold, and then beautiful, miraculous grass. Ironwood ignored the murmurs of amazement behind him, dropping directly to his knees.

When his palms hit the ground, only one was capable of feeling how soft it was.

I need to update my arm, he thought, even as he curled into a ball and passed out.

***

When he woke they were already running out of time.

For the first two days Ironwood barely spoke to the others and thus he never quite figured out why they'd stayed. Had it been hopelessness? Spite? The all consuming thought that there was nowhere else to go? That Atlas, for all its rubble and slowly rising water, wasn't any different from what the rest of Remnant would look like soon?

Why not here then?

Especially when the vault, filled with wildflowers and an endless sun, made for such an enticing retreat.

"Soil's farmable," Maria said, running some of it through her fingers. It was a statement of fact, nothing more, and the three of them stubbornly ignored the implications of it.

"There's — " Pietro coughed, self-consciously clearing his throat. "There's plenty to salvage. Machinery to pull water from the humidity in here. First aid supplies. We could section off an area for our wa — "

Watts seethed. "If you finish that thought I will — "

"What?" Maria arched a brow. "Kill him? Like you've been saying for the last day?"

Day? Ironwood blinked. How long had he been out?

"I will!"

"Like you'd be able to. Just try it, beanpole."

They argued, and they threatened, but none raised their hands to one another again, and when they finally dispersed across the kingdom to collect what they could, none of the acknowledged what it was for.

Ironwood waded through the remnants of his home and didn't think about building another. Because the idea alone was absurd.

"Don't let the door slam shut," he'd said when they’d first left, nodding to the stone slab that had appeared after Penny had first arrived. Ironwood watched the three exchange glances, unsure if he was joking.

Fuck if he knew.

***

Those four days — or five, if Ironwood counted the one he'd lost — were conducted in a strange state of frenzy. None of them were in a position to be working on such a project, but when had the world ever cared for their needs? Pietro stayed behind in the vault, cataloguing what they'd found and making lists for what was still needed. His chair, while dynamic, wasn't meant for the sort of terrain Atlas had become and his wound was still healing.

He also seemed to appreciate the privacy, frequently mourning his daughter with an honesty that made them all uncomfortable.

Maria went off to do the Gods only knew what, disappearing for hours at a time, then coming back wet, cold, and carrying little. Though she always had information. Which parts of the city were too grimm invested to traverse, which were now completely underwater, which were too unstable as Atlas tilted like a ship, disappearing beneath the waves. It gave them all focus and, surprisingly, something like hope. Whatever else she carried was usually small, such as the seeds filched from the bio laboratories.

"Couldn't take them all," she said, critically surveying the land, "what with so many of the labels getting lost in the crash. Don't want to eat something your lot has experimented on."

"You should. If we're lucky you'll mutate into someone bearable." Watts, taking stock of the clothing they'd gathered, didn't seem to realize that Maria was flipping him off.

He went on a deep dives (sometimes literally) for salvageable tech, most of it of a practical nature, but other pieces... not. Nothing had shifted Ironwood's world view quiet like day two, walking in on Watts looming over Pietro, assuming there was another fight brewing... only to overhear them exchanging theories, the conversation filled with as many insults as legitimate claims. Still, the seeds of camaraderie were there, and were perhaps easier to grow than originally thought. After all, Watts had once been one of them and Pietro, for all his heroics, had once entered Ironwood's office with a manic gleam in his eye, rambling about giving an aura to a machine. Defense technology at its finest!

What was it Glynda had said? Ah yes, agreeing with young Ms. Nikos about how "wrong" it all was. But desperate times, desperate measures and all that.

They'd had that discussion, of course. Soon after Ironwood awoke, talk of Amity began again, this time about whether it was possible to send another message. With enough time and effort, not to mention luck... a short one, perhaps, and only sent to an individual scroll. But what was the point? Who would they call? When no one could — or would — answer that question, the idea was dropped.

In the days since, Ironwood had fantasized about messaging Glynda. One of the few who'd ever been a true friend, perhaps the only one left alive who might care that he was still among the living... if Ms. Rose's message hadn't killed that too. Not that it mattered. Even if Amity wasn't a hunk of metal gathering ice, Ironwood hadn't a clue what he might say to her.

Dear Glynda,

Thank you. Sorry. Good luck.

Sincerely,

General James Ironwood

P.S. If things had ended differently, I would have asked for a second dance.

How ridiculous.

So he walked the broken streets of Mantle and climbed the streets of Atlas, more and more of it disappearing every day. Their hoard grew though, born of not just military property, but personal belongings as well. It wasn't as if anyone was coming to claim them. Unless more magic was at work, both cities would be miles beneath the ice before anyone crossed the border again. Still, Ironwood would always pause before packing away what he found in the hastily abandoned houses. Bedding. Utensils. The literal shirt off someone's back. He'd changed into jeans and a thick sweater the second day, taken from a collection of civilian clothes he'd placed into a locker years ago and promptly forgot about. The uniform felt... obsolete now, no matter that his goals remained the same.

He'd encountered Maria on one of those trips, admiring a basket of yarn in some nameless Atlesian's living room. Her shoulders had tensed at his approach, but she just snorted at the sight of him.

"You knit?" he asked, unsure of what else to say.

"No."

"Crochet?"

"No."

Ironwood didn't know any other crafts that involved yarn. "Then why are you taking it?"

Maria hummed. "Just a thought. That I might, someday, try to learn." She shook a book she’d pulled from the basket: Knitting For Beginners.

A stray thought indeed. The thing they still didn't talk about. The closest they got was on the fifth night when an explosion sounded outside, massive enough to unsteady them even deep within the vault. By the time all four of them had made it out and onto one of the roofs, the sky had turned a sickly yellow, followed by black tendrils that raced, turning, back and around on each other until everything went dark. The only light came from what little electricity they had running on generators and a red aura, pulsing from the West.

From Vacuo.

Realistically, it might have meant that they'd won. It wasn't as if Ironwood had any idea what the death of an immortal witch looked like. But the night wore on and they had no idea because that unnatural, starless black never receded. In time, Pietro wandered off and returned with two bottles he'd pilfered from somewhere, cracking the tops off on the side of his chair and passing them around.

They still didn't say it aloud, though the sky and the alcohol said enough already. Ironwood kept his eyes on the watch his mother gave him, hours ticking by until sunrise was long overdue. Atlas felt even colder now and that red, seeming to inch closer, sent a different kind of chill down his spine. The grimm that still prowled below had taken off hours ago, summoned by some unheard call.

Ironwood downed the dregs of his bottle and threw it into the city.

"Come on," he said. Ordered maybe, or asked. He wasn't sure he knew the difference anymore.

Blankets. Glasses. As many non-perishables as they could find. Generators. Tool kits. The building blocks of renewable energy. Clothing. Decorations. Wood to build small, individual dwellings.

Watts hoarded laptops and a small mountain of batteries, never showing them what he was working on, intensely protective.

Maria grew obsessed with entertainment, snagging every book, game, and video until there was a veritable library piled on the grass. She kept muttering about deserving a real retirement.

Pietro built a shrine to Penny, a simple stone monument to the left of the doorway. He tended to organize their supplies there, occasionally reaching out a hand to brush the code he'd inscribed with a laser. Whatever meaning it held, Ironwood couldn't read it within the ones and zeros.

And he... he found a cat. His last day, picking his way across dwindling islands until his eyes found the small, electrical fire just out of the water's reach. The cat had wedged herself into the rubble above it, trying desperately to keep warm.

She was as black as the sky above them and Ironwood was sure, when he reached out, that she'd run, terrified of his prosthetic hands. They certainly weren't any warmer, but she weakly crawled into them nonetheless. Ironwood held her securely against his left side, where his heart and flesh were, and thought with an absurd, internal laugh that he'd at least saved one.

There was so much left to do still, but their time was gone. That evening, eating what little they had the stomach for, water began to pour from the vault's elevator. First a trickle, then a deluge, until there was a sizable waterfall to admire. Ironwood sat on the steps with his unnamed cat on his shoulder, watching inevitability creep towards him.

He could still lie though.

"There's still time," he said, addressing the three behind him. "If you head up the elevator shaft and down the west hall, you can still break the surface. Find one of the remaining airships. Fly away."

Watts scowled, avoiding his gaze. He remained leaning against the doorway though.

Maria and Pietro exchanged glances.

"I'd carry you," Ironwood offered to Pietro. They both knew it would be a death sentence with their combined deadweight, but he'd do it anyway.

"No," he said softly. "I did all I could already."

Maria. She was harder to read with those goggles, but it wasn't peace on her face. Guilt, more likely, but that had never stopped any of them before.

"It's damn cold out here," she muttered and marched back to the grass. Pietro followed her, Watts trailing not far behind. He turned back though.

"You coming?"

Ironwood didn't answer and eventually Watts left, heading into the meadow that stretched until you lost sight of where you'd been — and then reappeared there. A tiny pocket dimension, born of a magic now lost to this world. Ironwood figured that a bit of water and ice couldn't break it.

Probably.

He watched the flood cover the floor of the vault, then lap upwards, one stair at a time. There was a part of him, a part unimaginably tired, that thought he might just sit there. Keep rooted until the water was so high it was too late to do anything. That would be easy. Fitting, even. Shouldn't he go with his kingdom?

But then the cat — his cat — dug nails into his shoulder and Watts said something that made Maria screech. Ironwood sighed.

There were still things to protect, simple as that had become.

He turned his back on Remnant, now encased in an eternal night, and walked to the three who remained, cowering in an eternal day.

Ironwood allowed them one last choice and when they all nodded, he kicked the vault door shut.

#tw suicidal thoughts #rwby #fic things #rwby fic #Ironwood #Watts #Maria #Pietro #idk what this IS #post-apocalyptic RWBY I guess #with a side of questionable people not talking to each other #Anonymous

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hunnyuwu · 4 years

Text

My Baby Don’t Like It || NCT Jaehyun+Mark [part I]

Premise: What went wrong along the way? After everything we had been through, you still chose to leave me?

Pairings : Dad! Jaehyun x fem! reader x Friend! Mark

WC: 2.1 K

Warnings: explicit language, some extreme fluff

Part I || Part II || Part III

"Hey baby! How are you today?" You were crouched down on your knees, shooting a silly smile as the most adorable four year old in the world ran straight into your outstretched arms, worming his way into the crevasse of your neck. You cooed into the kid’s ear, happy to see the boy happy and healthy. He withdrew from his squirmy snuggles to plant his tiny, moist lips on your soft cheek as his little greeting to his beloved Noona.

"I'm happy to see you, Noona!" A smile lit up his round, chubby features before he nuzzled back into the crevasse of your neck. You rubbed the top of his head a few times, messing up his short black locks, before getting up so that you were finally standing at your own height.

"Thanks for looking after him today, Y/N."

Your heart beat slowed down to a steady, rhythmic pace immediately. The slow, heavy thrumming taunted you as it rattled in your within the hollow shells of your ears. You interlocked hands with the small boy beside you before lifting your chin to see the person before you.

A gentle smile blossomed over your lips, a wave of calm washing over your body as you examined the familiar face before you, "Of course, Jaehyun."

"Remember Y/N, I changed my name." Jaehyun gave you a teasing jab, a dumb grin occupying his eyes. You flinched a little backwards, knives stabbing your poor heart as memories flashed at the forefront of your mind.

‘Yeah, but you changed it for her.’

"A-Ah, right! Sorry, have a good day, Yoon-Oh."

You released a breath that were holding for a little while as you saw Jaehyun hop into the driver's seat of an extremely expensive, luxury car. The flashy woman in the passenger seat threw an overstated air kiss to the little boy beside you, glancing your way soon after. A scowl replaced the smile you were holding onto desperately as she simply smirked with triumph. Your free hand curled into a tight fist as you watched the car whiz away, to the point that your knuckles turned white and your nails threatened to puncture the flesh of your palm.

She removed Jaehyun from your life,

And he allowed it to happen.

You and Jaehyun had known one another since primary school. On a bitter, cold day in the autumn of your second year, Jaehyun nervously approached your lunch table to ask if he could sit with your group, which you guys obviously said yes. While the friends you had in that group all eventually slipped away from your life through your years of schooling, Jaehyun and you had managed to maintain a close friendship. The close bond and chemistry the two of you had was undeniable to the public and private eye. Everyone thought the two of you would eventually get married, which you didn't mind them thinking in the slightest. Jaehyun had always thought the same too, even though there was no official romance. Just adoring looks, sweet gestures, lovely memories, and tense atmospheres.

In university, you finally confirmed your feelings for him, ready for that next step with him. You finally realized that he was your destiny, and you thought you were his as well.

Next thing you knew, Jaehyun found a girl from his economics class and the rest is history. They had an accidental child early on in their whirlwind romance, the one you were currently watching playing with stackable plastic blocks. Anger boiled your blood... you still loved Jaehyun to the depths of your heart, to the point that you regularly questioned whether you would ever be able to move on, but you couldn't understand how dense he was when it came to his girlfriend: Jimin.

Jimin wasn't your average, plain Jane college gal. She was simply receiving a business degree for the sake of having the piece of paper that she didn’t even work for. Jimin had her daddy's money and company waiting for her once she deemed herself ready for the role. When Jimin set her eyes on Jaehyun the very first class of economics, it was game over for anything between you two. Jimin made it her mission to claim Jaehyun as her own personal property, in other words her personal boy toy, basically making it her life’s mission to rid of you in his life. Or as she specifically explain it, 'spending quality time with boyfie while they were young.' You saw through her sugary sweet act from the moment you laid eyes on her when Jaehyun introduced the two fo you.

She was a brat, a snob, a snake, and any description with negative connotation that you could think of. You hissed as you remembered that the woman even convinced him that 'Yoon-Oh' was a more handsome name than Jaehyun. ‘How could he be so under her spell to not see the sort of shit she puts him through?’ You wondered.

‘The least she could be is a sweet, decent person to make Jaehyun happy in life.’

That would have satisfied you, but in the end, you knew that people never really get what they want. You were left high and dry while a snobby rich whisked Jaehyun away like he was never there to begin with. And the fact that the woman barely paid any attention to her child made you absolutely sick to your stomach. Hot tears pricked at your eyes as you watched the innocent boy giggle as he was currently in the midst of building a little block boat.

‘Taking random selfies with your extremely adorable child for your dumb Instagram page does NOT count as parenting, Jimin.’

As you reminisced on all of the times that you had to deal with Jimin's endless childishness and her possessiveness over Jaehyun, you felt a little tug at your sleeve. You smiled tearily as you saw one thing that significantly brightened up your bleak life.

"Noona?"

"Yes, Baby?"

"Why do you look so sad today?"

Your heart constricted like someone was squeezing it tightly, already feeling regret as you had been too absorbed in your own thoughts to give him your full attention. You didn't have an early education degree for nothing.

"Ah, just little things, Baby. Don't worry about it."

"But I don't want Noona to be sad! We should get you ice cream like you do when I get a boo boo!" Jaehyun's son, Jeno, happily suggested, probably just wanting to eat some ice cream himself. You were put into a bout of laughter as you lovingly looked at Jeno get up to 'go get you some ice cream to fix your inside boo boo.'

You complied as you simply couldn't ever say no to the precious boy, so you were on your way out to the local grocery store near your house, which you hadn't gone to in awhile. You peered down to the eye smile prince himself who was happily skipping alongside you, his tiny hand wrapped around the middle three fingers of your hand, a gesture that you you screaming in an internal maternal mess.

Jimin and Jaehyun have been so neglecting of this poor child lately, always going out on day long dates and luxurious overseas trips, obviously as per Jimin's request.

You had to say, you were extremely disappointed at Jaehyun for forgetting his caring, sweet roots. The child you were currently leading into a small grocery store was basically your own, you were more of a mother to him than Jimin could ever be.

"Hey, Y/N!"

You looked around to see who called out your name when you spotted a familiar face, causing you to stumble back with pleasant surprise.

"Oh hey, Mark! I didn't know you worked here! Master's degree yet?" You led little Jeno over to the cash register to greet him, gushing over seeing the adorable guy once again. You knew Mark when you were a senior in college, him being a spry sophomore at the time. While he was a music major and you were an early education major, you two fatefully ended up in the same science requirement classes, leading to a beautiful, supportive relationship to blossom between the two of you. You hadn't been able to see him as of late as you were busy with your job.

"Yeah, I’m here part time. Needed some money so I can pay off my college debt as I'm looking for a gig at the moment. But anyways, uhhh, y-you look beautiful as ever, Y/N. Is he your child?" You blushed at his compliment while looking down at little Jeno who Mark was gesturing to gently. Jeno was shooting Mark a suspicious glare causing you to giggle as you dropped a hand to pat his head.

"No, this is Jeno, Jaehyun's son. I regularly babysit him."

Mark gave you a confused look, something wasn't adding up for him.

"You and Jaehyun aren't together?"

You were taken aback at his lack of knowledge. You even told him about Jaehyun's girlfriend a long time ago, but it seems like he didn't remember. Besides, you and Jaehyun were very, very not together.

As you were about to explain, Jeno took the spotlight.

"Daddy should date my Noona! She's a lot better-"

"Shh, you shouldn't say stuff like that, Jeno." You cooed to comfort the pouting kid as you hoisted him up onto your waist to rock him a little. He was getting a little heavy for this, but you didn't mind throwing your back out for him.

Mark laughed to himself, throwing a loving gaze your way as you and Jeno bickered for a little. His insides turned to goop as he fell down the tempting rabbit hole once again.

"Well, if you're not with anyone right now... c-could I ask to maybe take you out on a date sometime?"

You abruptly paused your conversation with Jeno to whip your head to the blushing male. A little blush to match his crept up to your cheeks as you reeled over what he just said in your mind like a broken cassette.

"You want to... go out with me?" You whispered with a tilt of your head, needing a firm confirmation from him before you let your mind start playing tricks on itself.

"Yeah, if that's fine with you." Mark restated, biting down on his bottom lip as he awaited your answer.

Thoughts of Jaehyun’s beautiful, warm smile plagued your mind like a disease; you were still very much in love with him. Even if his actions gave you a whole list as to why you should give his ass up in a heartbeat.

You looked back into Mark's eyes, finally making up your mind.

"I'd love to, Mark."

"Really?" He choked out, already expecting a rejection coming his way. You were oblivious to it, but Mark had the largest crush on you ever since you became partners for your science class. Whenever he even thought of asking you out, he remembered how close you were to Jaehyun, so he always chickened out.

This was finally his chance.

"Yeah, of course I would." You said sheepishly.

"But what about Daddy?"

You looked back to Jeno who was inches away from your face with round, glassy eyes. You sighed as you gave his cheek a quick little peck.

"Your Daddy is happy with your Mommy, Jeno. Don't worry, you will always be the number one man in my heart, okay? We will have a bunch more playdates!"

Mark watched as you comforted Jeno, feeling his heart thump violently against his ribcage. He knew you were the one for him, and he truly pitied Jaehyun, for he couldn't even see the true beauty that was sitting in front of him for so many years. Mark prayed above, thoroughly thanking fate to bring you to him today.

"Excuse me, but are you checking out right now?" An elderly woman appeared behind you with a harsh glare, a sharp tongue to match her tapping foot. You bowed quickly, not too much so that Jeno wouldn’t fall off, muttering small apologies as you moved out of the way.

"You better give me a discount for the ice cream, Mark!" You yelled as you walked away with Jeno over to the ice cream freezer. Mark gave you a cute little smile before diving back into scanning the items that that woman gave to him. Though it has been hard in your journey to give up on Jaehyun, there may be just as amazing men that would be better for you out there. You sighed out happily, maybe things were going to improve for you in the future.

~~~

Part I || Part II || Part III

This mini fic is the result of when I learned that Jaehyun said he would have basically been a teenage dad if he wasn't an idol 👁👄👁

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maybedefinitely404 · 4 years

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Day 7: Roman x unknown (Creativitwins focus)

@tsshipmonth2020

Day 7: There is a string tied around your pinky that only you can see, the end of it leads to your soulmate.

Content warnings: food mentions, mention of losing soulmate, autistic character (not explicitly stated, but heavily implied).

Word count: 2.5k

Little Roman was barely six years old when he first felt the gentle tug on his pinky finger, looking down from his coloring book to inspect the digit. A gap-toothed smile spread across his face when he saw the thin red string, tied in a neat little bow, the end trailing off for about as long as he was tall before fading. He’d been expecting his soulmark since his mom had told him about the concept just a little while ago, and now it was here! The Disney prince lover that he was, he was already ready to meet his true love. Six years had been too long a wait.

His mom turned from the late dinner she was preparing when he hobbled down the stairs, overstuffed and oversized backpack dragging behind him and Mrs. Fluffybottom stuffed into the front of his shirt. She tried her hardest to keep a straight face as he gripped the railing for balance, tongue poking out between his teeth in a valiant attempt to not faceplant.

“Where are you going with Virgil’s backpack, sweetheart?”

“I’m on a quest!” He announced as he stumbled off the final step, puffing out his little chest like a kitten trying to look intimidating. The rabbit stuffy that flopped in front of his face greatly diminished his threat.

“Is that so? And what is the purpose of this quest, my prince?”

“To find my soulmate!”

She put down the wooden spoon she was stirring with a wide grin, their family resemblance shining through with the action. “Your string appeared? That’s amazing!”

Roman couldn’t help but nod excitedly all the while shifting the uncomfortably heavy backpack on his already sore shoulders. “I’m going to find whoever it is and live happily ever after!”

“I’m sure you will, Roman. But how about some dinner before you embark on this journey? Don’t want to get hungry.”

He thought it over carefully, nose scrunching, deep in thought. He wanted to find his soulmate as soon as possible, but the food also smelled super good, and he’d already waited six years. What was one more meal time? His stomach gurgled in affirmation and he took his place at the table, dropping the bag and Mrs. Fluffybottom onto the floor next to him.

“Valiant choice. Boys, come get dinner!” She hollered in the stair’s general direction, being met almost immediately by thundering footsteps echoing through the upstairs hallway. Moments later, Remus slid down the handrail with a shout. His feet screeched loudly against the bannister in an attempt to slow him down, but it failed (as it did every time) and he ended up plummeting off the bottom, landing on his back with an “oof!”. He didn’t seem bothered, though when did he ever, as he scrambled back to his feet and plopped down in his spot, diagonal of Roman. Such arrangements had to be made a while back, when the twins proved incapable of sitting within hitting or kicking distance of each other for meals.

“Ah, and the Duke joins us. Did you see Virgil on the way down, hunny?”

She watched as he knocked the table with his fist lightly, his ‘deep in thought’ face identical to Roman’s, before he shook his head with a low hum.

“That’s okay. Do you want your spaghetti sauce on your noodles or beside it?”

Remus patted both open palms on the table, looking at her with wide eyes.

“Two separate bowls?”

He nodded.

“Sounds good. And Roman- Oh, there he is! The Prince, the Duke, and the King!”

Both boys turned to the stairs as their older brother stepped into the landing, his headphones wrapped around his neck. He looked like he’d just woken up from a nap, eyes drooping and stifling a yawn.

“King? More like court jester!” Roman stage whispered to Remus, incredibly proud of himself for the dig. Remus gave out a delighted giggle, wiggling in his spot. His mom tried to look disappointed, but her smirk was as difficult to hide as Virgil’s eye roll. She placed down Remus’ two bowls before going back to the stove to fill the rest of the plates.

“Cute. Why do you have my backpack?”

“I’m going on an adventure!”

“Okay, well, use your own backpack.”

“It ripped.”

“Then use Remus’.”

Remus let out an indignant grunt, narrowing his eyes in a way that definitely indicated anyone who touched his backpack would be met with his rage. He didn’t like people touching his things.

“I need it for school, dude.”

“And I need to meet my soulmate!”

The kitchen went silent except for Remus slurping marinara off his spoon, interchanging between bites of chopped up noodles and spaghetti sauce, oblivious to the sudden energy shift in the room.

“You got a soulmark?” He asked lowly, less as a question and more of an accusation. Roman puffed his chest up again, refusing to let his older brother bring down the joy of this momentous occasion. What was his problem, anyways?

“Yup! And I’m going on an adventure to unite-”

“Don’t even bother. Soulmates are bullshit anyways.”

“Virgil, language!”

His mother set down the remaining plates, casting Virgil The Look. Roman stuck his tongue out at Virgil before digging into his own plate, concentrating on swirling the pasta around the fork properly. His mother always offered to cut it into pieces like she did for Remus (and how Virgil did for himself) but no, he wanted to be a big boy and eat it like she did. She didn’t complain, because even if it meant twice as much clean up for her, his focus on the task provided a much more peaceful meal time.

“I’m not hungry. I’m just gonna go do homework.”

“Virgil, please eat dinner with us.”

“I said I’m not hungry.”

“You say that now, but I’m the one cleaning reheated pasta off the microwave tomorrow morning because of your little ‘midnight snack’.”

“I’ll clean the microwave,” he grumbled, feeling his chance at victory slipping through his fingers.

“You know that’s not the point. Not that I’m going to prevent you from doing so.”

She softened her smile, gesturing to his plate as she took her spot next to Remus. Virgil took a shuddering breath, hating that he loved his mom this much, and dropped into his seat numbly. He gave Roman a glare out of the side of his eye but the younger didn’t notice, spinning his fork with both hands, before he took his knife and cut his own noodles into bite sized chunks. Something about looking less like an idiot when he ate it.

Dinner went by in a flash, Remus lifting his bowl to lick the inside only to have it plucked from his hands by mom, who stacked his bowls on top of her plate and carried them to the dishwasher. Roman was scraping the last remnants onto his fork when Virgil stood up and stormed from the room.

“Mom, Virgil didn’t clean his dishes!”

“Don’t tattle, Roman. I see it,” She chastised before clearing the plate. Roman hopped off his chair and dutifully brought his own plate over, loading it into the dishwasher. The light in his eyes suddenly exploded to life and he bounded over to his chair, lugging Virgil’s backpack back onto his shoulders.

“Well, I’m off now! Thanks for dinner, mom, but I have a soulmate to find!”

Just as he strode towards the door, trying to decide between his his mickey mouse sneakers or his red velcro ones, Remus let out a wail and dove from the table, eyes bright with tears.

“What is it, Rem? I have to go!”

Another sob broke from his chest as he latched his arms around Roman, effectively smearing the sauce from his chin on his prince costume. He was mumbling something into the fabric, more gibberish than actual words, though Roman heard the word ‘no’ distinctly more than once.

“Aw, now I have to go change!” He pulled back, earning another whine. “I’ll be back, Rem! I don’t know when, but-”

“Roman?”

He turned to his mom, who was standing in the doorway with a gentle smile, watching the scene before her.

“I don’t think Remus wants you to go just yet, sweetheart. And it’s getting dark. Maybe you should stay here for tonight.”

As if to affirm the statement, Remus wrapped himself tighter around Roman’s ribs, shaking his head vigorously against his shoulder. He glanced out the window and sighed; it was getting dark, and despite being an incredibly brave adventurer, he had a strong dislike of the dark. For practical reasons, of course!

“I guess I can stay tonight.”

Remus barely gave him room to breathe as they stumbled up the stairs in an uncoordinated mess, their mom chuckling as she followed a step behind. Luckily she broke them apart long enough to allow them to get into their pajamas and brush their teeth, an affair that went without its usual amount of bickering and petty toothpaste shenanigans. For once, Roman didn’t have the heart to bother his twin, not when the other kept looking at him with teary eyes every time he moved, as if he needed to watch him, lest Roman run away from him again.

When he rinsed out his mouth and walked back into their room, his mom was sitting on his bed, thumbing through his backpack- well, Virgil’s, technically- and neatly refolding the clothes he’d haphazardly thrown in.

“Mom, I’m gonna have to repack those tomorrow!” As much as it bore a hole into his chest, he ignored Remus’ whine and climbed under the blankets. His twin looked torn for a moment, watching him wiggle past his mom’s form, before dejectedly crawling into his own bed, eyes never leaving Roman.

“Ro, what did I tell you about soulmates?”

“That they’re your true love? And the string leads you to them.” Roman shifted so he was lying on his back, smiling wistfully.

“I think I phrased it differently, but yes. Anything else?”

Cue nose scrunching, his trademark thinking face. “I don’t remember.”

“Sweetheart, the string connects you too, but you can’t follow it to them until it’s time for you to meet.”

Roman’s face fell, “You mean I can’t go find my soulmate?”

“You’ll find them on your own time, naturally. If you rush it, or try to force it, it won’t work.”

“Well… what if I try really hard?”

Mom laughed lightly, running a hand through his hair. “That won’t make a difference, sweetheart. You can’t make the process go any faster than it’s supposed to.”

“So I can’t follow the string?”

“I’m sorry, Roman. I know how excited you are for your soulmate.”

Roman couldn’t deny the heaviness weighing in his chest at the news. He had to wait longer? This is getting ridiculous. But if the risk of trying to find the person might delay it even more… well, he’d just have to let it run its course. As much as it sucked.

“Okay,” He sighed, closing his eyes as she leaned forward and kissed his forehead. Picking up the now empty backpack from the floor, she stepped up to Remus’ bed.

“Hug and kiss?”

He stared at her for a second as if heavily debating his options, before nodding. She seemed pleased with the response, though Roman knew she’d be okay with whichever he chose, and pulled him into her arms, pressing a kiss to the top of his head.

“I’m just going to take this back to Virgil,” She waved the backpack towards Roman impishly, “Maybe ask before you take his stuff next time.”

“Wait, mom!” Roman yelped as she went to close the door and she poked her head back in, eyebrow raised. He took a deep breath, not understanding his sudden nervousness. “Why was Virgil so upset? After I told him about my string.” It was mom’s turn to sigh, heavily, before she pushed the door open more and leaned against the frame.

“Virgil doesn’t have a soulmark, sweetheart. It’s very difficult for him to talk about.”

“...Oh. He never got one?” His heart sank, immediately feeling guilty.

“He… he used to have one. And then one day it…” She did a poofing motion with her hands, “Just disappeared. We don’t know why, and Virgil was very sad when it happened.”

Roman could understand… to have this little bond taken as quickly as it was given; he’d be distraught. “Well, maybe he can get it back!”

His mom smiled sadly, slowly reaching for the door handle, “Maybe. Don’t try to talk to Virgil about it, okay? It’s a sore topic.”

“Okay…” Roman pulled the covers up to his chin, his mind filled with newbound anxieties. “I love you.”

Her expression morphed into one of fondness, her eyes glittering with joy. “I love you, too, my Prince. And you, my Duke. Sweet dreams, okay?”

“Night, mom,” Roman called as she closed the door, going back to watching the glow in the dark stars on their ceiling. He couldn’t stop thinking about Virgil’s lost soulmark. What if that happened to him? How old had Virgil been when it happened? Was his soulmate still out there, or were they... gone?

All questions he’d have to talk to his mom about tomorrow, since she’d told him not to talk to Virgil about it. Maybe he’d just give Virgil an extra tight hug tomorrow, to make him feel better. Hugs always made Roman feel better, so it was probably the same for his big brother, too.

He was pulled out of his thoughts by a small sniffle from Remus’ bed, turning his attention from the galaxy on their ceiling to his brother. In the dim glow of their respective red and green nightlights, Remus’ brown eyes shone with bright tears, watching Roman intensely and choking back small sobs. He still thought he was going to leave.

With not a moment’s hesitation, Roman scooted back until he was against the wall and lifted the corner of the blanket in a silent invitation. Remus didn’t need more than that, scrambling out of his own covers with lightning speed, almost tripping over the fabric, and launching himself into his twin’s bed. Like an octopus, he wrapped his limbs around Roman in a tight squeeze, digging his face into his chest. He got the message. Please don’t leave.

“I’m not going anywhere, Rem. I promise. I’ll stay.”

That seemed to be enough to satiate him, because his eyes immediately drooped, though his grip didn’t falter.

“If you kick me, I’m pushing you onto the floor.”

Remus hummed gruffly from the back of his throat, like an unspoken way of saying shut up. Roman didn’t fight his hug, didn’t try to escape, because even if his twin was the bane of his existence, he still loved him more than anything. Except maybe his mom… and reluctantly, Virgil. They all tied for first place. But for sure, if anyone talked bad about Remus (and peers had, in the past), he would be the first to deck them and sit on them until they apologized (he’d done that, too).

“Love you, Rem,” He grumbled like it was a reluctant admission. His brother didn’t answer, and he realized he’d fallen asleep, curled against Roman like a koala. That was fine. They hadn’t shared a bed in years, and he’d kind of missed it.

He got comfortable, as much as he could with his human attachment, and let his eyes drift shut, visions of his possible soulmate filling his dreams.

#if you tag this as remrom i will personally steal your kneecaps #lywrites #tsshipmonth2020 #creativitwins #roman sanders #remus sanders #virgil sanders #ts soulmate au #soulmateseptember #soulmate september #sanders sides #sanders sides fanfiction #sanderssides

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thereluctantinquisitor · 4 years

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Another Year

OKAY so it is @frenchy-and-the-sea’s birthday and I am HERE with a terrible gift that is just... okay, listen. LISTEN. I had feelings and I just wrote them down and if it is wildly out of character please just pretend it is a really weird AU!

Aaaanyway, Alex and Tahir belong to the wonderful Frenchy and live in her amazing original work, Seven Cities. If you haven’t already, join me in this glorious rabbit hole and come fall in love with all her characters!

Happy Birthday Frenchy <3

---------------------------------

If someone had told a young Alex that her life would be shaped like a cradle of wood, set adrift over the ocean chasing fairytales, she would have laughed them out of the room and told them not to bother coming back. Hell, sometimes she felt like laughing herself out of the room when she paused long enough to think about what they were doing. Seven cities. Sitting cross-legged by the Ranger’s bow, her head resting against one of the railing posts, those two words alone were enough to stir something deep and quiet in her chest. It was hard, not to long for answers to unasked questions. Particularly when they had been planted in your head by someone else. Some days, that meeting with Jon, and all the things that followed, felt like a dream. A story that had happened to someone else, a long time ago, that she just happened to overhear at a pub in some piss-soaked harbour town. A story full to the brim of adventure and triumph. Fuller still of mess and mistakes.

“Another year, huh?”

Alex huffed, not bothering to pull her eyes from the waves. “Not sure what you mean. Not sure I care to know, either.”

Of course, she knew exactly what he meant. Maybe at another time, in another place, Tahir might have laughed at her almost dramatic sullenness. But not this time. Instead, he just hovered for a while, before finally lowering himself down beside her with a soft grunt. Exhaling, he tipped his head back. Dark circles framed his eyes, same as hers. There had been some long days, of late, and even longer nights. They wore them about as well as could be expected. “You know, after all this time, I thought you’d soften up to people wanting to celebrate your birthday.” His gaze flicked down, and Alex’s averted just as fast. “It’s a good thing, lad. Means you’ve eked out another year in this mad place. And there’s no one alive who can take that from you.”

“If you’re feeling like waxing poetic, Tahir, there are better audiences for it.”

“Ah, well, Adelina is asleep.”

“Try Duchess.”

The pair exchanged a flat look, like siblings poised to push each other’s buttons. Normally, Alex’s glower was a thing of legend, but this time she felt the corners of her lips twitch traitorously and had to break the contest, masking it by casting her attention back out over the water with a huff. Rather than reveling in his victory, Tahir just allowed a faint smile to spread freely across his face. He was a spot of brightness in the inky dark. Somehow, when she needed him to be, he always was.

The silence lingered until she broke it. “I don’t make a fuss or demand a song and dance because I don’t care about it, Tahir.” Alex wasn’t sure why she started speaking. Normally those kinds of words had to be pried from her like a coin from a miser. “So unless you’ve been spending your lonesome evenings knitting a cape from old hemp sacks and sail rope, best to just treat it the same as any other day.”

There was a pause. “Well,” Tahir began slowly, “I’m not sure about the knitting, but if I’d known you wanted a cape made out of old hemp and---”

He broke off with a surprised grunt as the heel of Alex’s boot connected solidly with his thigh, then quickly caught her foot in one large hand. He raised it slightly, as if to say don’t make me confiscate this, then set it back down on the wooden deck at a pointedly safe distance. “In seriousness,” he continued, one eye still watching for any further signs of attack, “have a drink, at least. Even if it’s just with me or Adelina. Celebrate a little.”

Alex arched a brow. “That an order?”

“It’s a suggestion, Alex. From a friend.”

“Yeah, well…” Alex reached up and ran a hand through her hair. Or at least, she tried it, tangled as it was from the salt and wind. “Consider your friendly suggestion noted. I just…” Her arm suddenly felt heavy. Too heavy. She let it fall to her lap like an anchor to the seafloor. “I just don’t feel in a celebrating mood. Not of late. It’s… there’s so much to do, Tahir.”

“Like what?”

“I…” Alex hesitated. There were things to be done. Of course there were things to be done! There was always something to finish, or begin, or re-do because some half-asleep idiot fucked it up the first time. They were all tired. All drained dry. That meant something was leaking – something that needed to be fixed. Something she needed to fix.

Yet, when asked what that thing was, she found herself at a loss.

Tahir shifted his weight, boot scraping over the deck as he bent his knee and propped his elbow on it. “Sometimes, we have bad weeks. All of us, together, on this ship.” He was looking at her, waiting for her to meet his gaze. When she didn’t, he continued anyway. “None of us blame you for it, Alex. We’ll blame the gods, or the weather, or a bad hand at a tarot reader’s tent well before we’d ever blame you. This is just… how things go sometimes. We can’t change it any more than we can change the tide.”

Finally, Alex turned to face him. “So… what? I’m just meant to accept that sometimes everything goes to shit for no reason? Make my peace with it?”

“Yes.”

“Why?”

“Because punishing yourself doesn’t make it any easier.”

Alex opened her mouth – to retort? Argue? She wasn’t sure. But once again, she found the will to fight had abandoned her. Or maybe, just maybe, Tahir had a point, and she’d just rather cast herself into the sea than admit it right now.

Instead, Alex just grunted; a quiet kind of acquiescence, open enough to interpretation that she could stomach it well enough. Tahir, never one to look a gift horse in the mouth, accepted it with wordless grace. They sat in silence for a little while longer, side by side, lulled by the creaking of the ship. Then, there was a rustle of fabric as Tahir reached into his side-pouch and extended a further sign of peace.

A flask.

“What’ve you got in there today?” Alex took the flask and set to unscrewing it with half-numb fingers. The night-chill was starting to rise already. She convinced herself the drink was just to chase it away. Nothing more.

Tahir relaxed back against the rail, stretching his legs out again. “Something you’ll like.”

Frowning, Alex eyed him warily as she slowly raised the flask to her nose. The first inhale was short – a test, of sorts. When she didn’t keel over from a poorly conceived prank by one of the twins, she relaxed and allowed herself a deeper breath. What met her was something rich, lightly spiced, and possessing just enough edge to promise a good, trickling warmth that curled its way to her fingertips. Even without tasting it, she knew one thing for certain: it was good. “When did you even get this?” she asked a little accusingly. Last time they were at port, he’d insisted on staying with the ship while the others enjoyed a well-earned shore leave.

Apparently not.

As though reading her mind, Tahir quickly raised his hands. “Easy there, Captain. I convinced Davin to take my place for a bit. The Ranger was in good hands.” He hesitated. “Well, reasonably good hands. He was still sober enough to stand.”

It was easier to laugh, somehow, with that flask in her hand. Not just because its contents sent a comforting warmth straight to her stomach, but because it was something she hadn’t known she needed. It was a moment with someone she trusted above anyone else, sitting on the bow of her ship, letting sea and sail carry them towards a distant point of the compass.

Some leaks are small. Barely even noticeable, at first. But god, it feels good when someone takes the time to patch it.

“That good, huh?” Tahir asked eventually, after Alex had helped herself to a third hearty swig. Humming contently, she smirked and held out the flask.

“You tell me.” When Tahir raised his brows, Alex just rolled her eyes. “Listen - given you probably owe Dav a favour now – a thing no man alive would envy – you can at least partake in the spoils.”

Laughing, Tahir shrugged his large shoulders. “Well, when you put it that way, how could I say no?”

There it was again. That smile. The one that reminded Alex that she had her own. And she found it, then, as Tahir took the flask and allowed himself a long, deep swallow. Then another. Then another…

“Hey - don’t go emptying it!” There was a moment of frenzy, Alex grabbing for the flask, Tahir twisting away, keeping her at bay with a frantically extended elbow. Eventually, Alex managed to snatch it back and tipped it up, peering inside as though to measure the precise depth of his betrayal. “You rat bastard.”

But Tahir wasn’t listening. He was too busy laughing, one hand on the rail, hauling himself to his feet (and, more importantly, out of range). Once upright, he swayed slightly, then stretched his back. Cat-like. Content in his flagrant hubris.

Duchess would be proud.

“Come on, then,” he said. “Up you get.”

“What?” Alex was still fuming, trying to fish out the last few boozy drops with her finger. Traitor. “Why the hell should I?”

Tahir just grinned.

“Because the rest of the bottle is with Adelina, and you’ve kept her waiting long enough.”

#reluctant writes #seven cities #frenchy-and-the-sea #alex sheffield #tahir #adjksldajdkal i hope you like it #im sorry i know it's weird and out of context but i just wanted to write another alex having a birthday fic #it's no match for the Great Coat Giving one that you wrote that just lit my heart on fire #but it's been a weird-ass year and i wanted to do a little something #on this humble and wonderful day #which is the day of your majestic birth #<3

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smol-and-grumpy · 4 years

Text

Teacher Of The Year - P.10

Pairing: Professor Dean Winchester x Reader

Summary: Heartbroken and restless, she walked into a bar with the full intention of getting smashed but she got more than she bargained for. Much more.

Warnings: NSFW, sex toys

WC: 3830

A/N: Eons later the next part. lol Thanks @deanwanddamons for giving this a read over.

SERIES MASTERLIST

Weeks have passed and things begin to go back to normal again. Adam’s avoiding her and she’s happy about that. Dean stayed around, she thought that he’d tell her that it’s over. That she’s not worth risking his job and his reputation over.

She can’t imagine how awkward it would be to sit in his lectures when things inevitably would turn sour. She doesn’t really want to think about it because it’s good as it is, isn’t it? And she doesn’t need bad thoughts right now, not when exams are approaching.

They are still hiding their ‘relationship’. She doesn’t know if it’s a relationship though, doesn’t really know where they stand at all. They haven’t been meeting a lot lately, too, since Dean’s quite busy with exam preparation and she’s busy with studying and getting things into her head. It’s not really easy but it’s good. It’s good because she doesn’t want to get attached, doesn’t want her heart to be broken when Dean decides to end it. Even though he told her that she can walk away anytime. Little does he know that she doesn’t want to but she’s a little afraid that he would.

It’s late Friday afternoon and she knocks at the door to his office. The hallway is quiet, a lot of students have already left the building, either going home to their parents or they already start to drink and party around. She wanted to leave too but Dean texted her that he wanted to see her before she leaves.

“Come in,” His voice is loud, deep and maybe a little irritated. She can imagine that he was lost in his thoughts before she came knocking.

Opening the door to his office, she peeks in first before she steps through, “Professor, you said you wanted to see me?”

Dean’s crease on his forehead disappears and instead the crinkles around his eyes deepens into a smile when he sees that it’s her.

“Yeah, come in. Close the door, please.” He pushes away from his chair and walks around the table, towards her.

Y/N closes the door when she’s fully inside, locks it too, just in case. They can never be careful enough.

Dean grins when he sees her locking it, purses his lips at that, and maybe he’s a little proud that she thinks of little details. He wraps his arms around her when she’s close enough, pulls her against his chest and she relaxes into the touch. She tilts her chin up, and he leans down, kisses her softly. He looks down at her, the grin still wide on his face and he doesn’t say anything, which irritates her.

“What is it?” She asks and he’s still grinning and now she can’t help but feel anxious.

He pecks her forehead, sprays kisses down her face. Kisses her brows, her nose, her lips. “I just wanted to see you before I go.”

“Go where?” Y/N asks because she doesn’t know. Dean didn’t tell her that he’s going to be away and they have spent the last two weekends together holed up in his apartment while they talked and fucked like rabbits. Her pussy begins to throb thinking back to the last weekend. And it’s not like he has to tell her anything anyway, they’re not like that but still she’s a little surprised, probably can’t really hide that she feels a little disappointed, too.

He brushes his fingertips over her face, paints the lines of her brows, her lips, as if he wants to memorize her. Dean sighs before he speaks, “Gotta go see Sammy. Bonding weekend, y’know. We go every few months, it has become a tradition. It’s last minute this time around because he didn’t know if he could take the weekend off.”

“Oh,” She says, remembers that he once told her about that, that they started when their dad was still around and they kept the tradition alive even after their father passed away.

“Yeah,” He sighs, and then he lets her go, walks back to his case that’s rested on his desk and fishes something out of it, “But I called you in because I want to give you this.”

Dean walks over, takes the wrist of her hand and places something inside. She opens up to see a key.

“A key?” She looks at him puzzled.

He chuckles, “Yeah, not just a key. It’s the key to my apartment.”

She doesn’t know what it means and frowns some more which prompts Dean to ease the crease away with a kiss.

His thumb and forefinger comes beneath her chin, tilts her head up, “Remember three days ago? We were in bed watching TV and you complained that there was nowhere you could study in silence and peace?”

“Yeah?” She still doesn’t know what he’s trying to tell her.

“And you were babbling and rambling on and on, and I couldn’t hear a word of the documentary.” He rolls his eyes in a playful way, “Anyway, I’ll be away for almost two days. You can go there, study your cute ass off.”

“Ah,” She says and grins when she realizes.

“Maybe you can keep the key after too, you know,” He starts to mumble and blush and she thinks it’s awfully cute, “You never know when you could use it next.”

Y/N chuckles, “Of course.” Getting on her toes, she wraps her arms around his neck, pecks his lips. “Thanks.”

“You’re welcome,” He smiles now, kissing her again before he speaks, “But, like, please don’t move anything around? I hate that,” And then after a couple of seconds of thinking about it, he adds, “And oh, don’t make a mess with my records. I hate that, too. And please, if you could just… not touch my expensive whiskey? I have it for drinking it with good company not for you to drink it alone.”

She starts to giggle, and raises an eyebrow, “So, basically, you don’t want me to do anything in your apartment.”

“I want you to study,” He says, grinning a little, “But we’ve got to lay some ground rules.” Dean rests his forehead on hers, their noses touch. “Moving things around, mixing up records and drinking whiskey, nuh-uh.”

“Nuh-uh?”

He shakes his head and pecks her lips.

“Got it,” She smiles, and then her smile turns cocky when she adds, “Sir!”

Dean’s jaw drops before he sighs out, “Don’t call me that, I’ll never be able to leave today if you do.” He kisses her again, this time harder, more demanding, his tongue slides in next to hers. He cups her head between his big hands, thumbs brushing against her cheeks.

“Aright,” She grins cheekily, and adds, “Sir.”

She giggles as Dean rolls his eyes before his hands sneak from around her waist to her ass, spanking down on them hard enough to leave a mark. He rests them on her ass cheeks, squeezes and kneads at them while at the same time, he pulls her closer.

“Wanna bend you over and spank you but I really need to go, guess it has to wait, huh?” He mumbles, kisses her again, “You have no idea how much I’m gonna miss you.”

Traffic is a bitch on his way back from Chicago and instead of the four hours it normally takes him, he’s nearing almost six with occasional breaks to pump gas.

Dean parks his Baby in his parking spot, which is right in front of his building, and gets out. He looks up to his apartment, smiles when he sees the light shimmering through the window of his bedroom.

He runs up the stairs, his heart thumps in his chest, both from the exercise and from the anticipation of seeing her.

Opening up the door to his apartment, a scent immediately fills his nose. It’s not the usual scent of his apartment, not the scent of him and his cologne. It has a flowery touch to it, and he looks around, sees some scented candles standing around.

Dean huffs out a smile, because well, he might not be able to admit it right to her face but he could definitely live with her scent filling this apartment every time he walks through that door.

Dropping his bag right in the hallway, he makes his way to his bedroom because that’s where the sound of calming music comes out of.

The door’s left ajar and he pushes the door open with his hands, doesn’t go in quite yet but peeks in. The sight makes his heart fill with something he doesn’t really recognize because he hasn’t felt something like it in years, if he ever felt it at all.

Y/N’s spread on the bed reading a book. She’s laying on her stomach, propping herself up on her elbows, her legs bend upwards and her feet cross in the air. Her boyshorts panties doesn't leave too much to the imagination because they ride up, revealing her ass, it might as well be a string.

The sight looks inviting, he can’t lie about that. The shirt she wears looks damn familiar and he takes a wild guess that it’s the old Led Zeppelin shirt he keeps in one of his closet drawers. It’s way too big for her, the collar drops down one of her shoulders.

“Why don’t you take a picture? It’ll last longer.” She mumbles before turning her head.

She grins, white and bright.

Dean’s caught off guard, has to clear his throat and blood rushes to his cheeks.

He smirks a little as he walks forwards and climbs onto the bed and lays down, lowers his head to her ass and buries his face into the cleft of her clothed ass cheeks. Both of his hands are firm on her hips.

“So, so good to be home,” He mumbles into her ass, making her giggle and her hand reaches out to him, threads her fingers through his hair and he leans into the touch, but not quite moving up yet, this place is just too comfortable.

“I’m hungry,” He looks up, and grins while he lets his fingers travel over the seam of her panties, slipping underneath to brush against her cunt.

Dean looks up from her crotch to her face, sees her looking back at him, her bottom lip tucked in between her teeth.

Y/N blushes so sweet, too, “I’m sorry, there’s not much left to eat here. I did nothing else other than study while you were gone.” She apologizes and it’s almost too cute how innocent she is because Dean was certainly not talking about food when he said that he was hungry.

“Nothing else?” He can’t hide the smirk that tugs at the corner of his lips and then he slips his fingers into her panties, moving the fabric out of the way so he can see better. His knuckles graze her pussy, is surprised that she’s wet, and she whimpers.

“No, no-nothing.” She hitches her breath and lowers her face, rests her forehead on the book that’s still spread in front of her.

Dean brushes the tip of his fingers through her slick. How did she get so wet? “Jesus, sweetheart, you’re soaked. How long have you been like this, huh?”

“S-since you left,” She stutters a little but still has her face buried in the book, probably out of shame. But she really has nothing to be ashamed about.

“Look at me,” He says it as soothingly as possible, and then he waits. Waits until she looks back at him.

She arches her back a little, pushes her ass towards his face and tries to look over her shoulders. Her face contains all shades of red there is.

Dean smiles at her while his thumb still circles around her clit, draws figure eights on her cunt, “You didn’t get off?”

“Nuh-uh,”

He raises one eyebrow in question, “Nuh-uh?”

“No, I thought I’d wait for you.”

He can’t hide the smile now, and chuckles lightly, “Good girl,” He praises her, his hands go around her hips, hooks his fingers into the seam of her panties and tugs them down, lifting himself up to his knees to take them off her legs.

Dean lays himself on his back, right next to her, his slick covered fingers lazily caresses her cheeks before he places them to her lips. She opens her mouth a little, sucks at the pad of his thumb, hums against it.

“I’ve missed you,” He whispers, because it’s the truth.

Taking the thumb out of her mouth, he strokes it along her eyebrow before he rests his whole hand at the back of her neck, pulls her into him and kisses her softly.

She smiles into the kiss, parts her lips some more and invites his tongue into her awaiting mouth. And of course he does, slides his tongue against hers, they share the taste of her that’s still strong on the tip of her tongue and if that doesn’t make him crave more, he’d be flat out lying.

“You said you were hungry?” She breathes against his mouth.

Dean widens his lips to a grin, pecks her once more before he speaks, “I am,” He winks, “Feel like eating in, though.” He proceeds to move up the bed, rests his head on a pillow and holds out a hand to her, “Come on, sit on my face.”

She snorts out a laugh, “What?”

“You heard me,”

And then she pouts, “But that will leave me hungry, still.”

He hates the pout as much as he loves it. It triggers all the buttons inside of him, making him want to give her the world.

His lips tugs into a playful grin, “Oh, you’ll get your fill, don’t worry about that.” And then he winks, his grin turns cocky, too.

Y/N laughs but then does what he told her to.

Always such a good girl.

She hoists her legs over his chest and Dean can literally smell her arousal. It sends a jolt of pleasure to his cock.

Slowly, she moves herself up his body, and braces her hands on the headboard for leverage before she sinks down on his awaiting mouth, jerking up a little when she feels his tongue touching her wet heat.

“Oh god,” She moans out, closing her eyes and tilts her head back.

Dean chuckles against her cunt, “It’s Dean,” He corrects her and she shudders because his voice sends vibrations throughout her body.

She looks down, rolls her eyes at him and smiles wickedly, “You should eat up, professor.”

He’s a little taken aback, but his lips widen into a grin, as he closes his eyes and dives in, lapping at her wet pussy, tongue twirling around her clit.

“Shit,” She breathes hard above him now, “So good.” She begins touching herself too, Dean can see it through squinted eyes. One of her hands goes under her shirt, pinches and pulls at her nipple and she whimpers at the sensation.

Dean grips at her thighs, holding her in place as he drags his tongue up and down her wet lips, making her keen and writhe above him.

“Dean, please,” Her voice is broken, a little choked up.

He hums against her, dragging the moment out, teasing her as best as he can. Her hand finds his head, threads her fingers through his hair and digs her blunt nails into his scalp. He welcomes the pain, likes it too much but he probably won’t admit it yet.

Sucking harder, she moves above him, sitting down on his face with more force, grinds her clit against his nose and Dean can’t help but to keep on licking and sucking as if his life depends on it. And maybe it does, because right now, it feels like it’s the only thing that keeps him alive.

He hums as she rubs her pussy on his face, and he almost suffocates but he doesn’t really mind. It would be a great way to die. He drinks in all the juices she produces, laps them up, gets drunk on it, wants to moan out loud at how good it tastes, but his mouth is kind of full of her.

“So good, Dean. You like it when I fuck your face, don’t you?” She pants above him and Dean still sucks at her stiff little clit, making her arch her back. He can’t answer her of course, can’t tell her that he fucking loves to be smothered with pussy. He also can’t tell her how much he loves it when she talks dirty to him.

She almost whistles when he hits a nerve, “Oh shit, you’re going to make me come so hard with your perfect mouth,” Her legs start to tremble and he has to grip down on them even tighter than before. Her thighs suddenly locks him in, comes down around his face and he has to hold her steady with his strong arms, as she writhes above him, painting his face in her cum.

When she comes down from her high, she takes deep, even breaths with a chuckle and lifts herself off his face, moving down and lays on him. She cradles his face with her hands, brushes at the excess wetness, tries to smooth it out of his scruff. He hugs her, and she kisses him then, moans a little when she tastes herself off his tongue.

Dean holds her tight against him as he wrestles and rolls them around, making her shriek out and laugh. He has her pinned to the mattress as he rains kisses down her face before he sits back up on his knees and rids himself off his shirt. He has to get off the bed to take off his pants, is over eager and almost trips and falls on his face which makes her laugh out loud. He lays back over her when he’s naked, kisses her hard and heavy, shutting up her stupid laughter.

Y/N grins against his lips, “I’m hungry too, Dean.”

He has to chuckle at that, “Oh no. You’ll have to wait. I can’t let you blow me, I’m trying not to lose myself without you even touching me.” He slots himself between her luscious thighs, takes his dick into his hands and jerks himself twice before he rubs the head of his cock to her slippery cunt. “Fuck, I’ve misses that.”

Slicking his dick up with her juice, he taunts her then, and teases the hell out of her as he slides his cock along her wet lips. He listens to her moans, and he has to try hard not to lose himself only because he wants to tease her.

“Dean!” Her voice is broken.

“What?”

“Please. Fuck me? Please, please,” She moves her hips, trying to get him to sink into her.

Dean grins because he loves when she’s desperate and begging for him. “I got you, baby,” He whispers, dark and low, rests his tip at the rim of her hole and pushes his hips forward, sinking himself into her perfect wet heat, groans as he feels her pussy walls gripping him tight.

His hands lift up her legs by the back of her knee, folds her in half and she does it so easily, too. “Shit, so good.”

He fucks into her, watching his dick slip in and out of her wet cunt, his thumb goes to rub at her clit, making her moan out some more.

Her hands leave her legs, grips at his arm and he lowers himself, bracing his elbows next to her face as she scrambles at his back, hooking her legs around his waist. She cranes her neck, kisses him and he kisses her back, as deep and hard as he fucks her.

“Ah,” Dean bites down on her bottom lip by accident, kisses her pain away, “I don’t think I can last.”

She smiles mischievously, wraps her arms around his neck and pulls him closer and Dean buries his face into her neck, laps and sucks at her throat, all while being careful not to leave a visible mark when all he wants to do is just that.

“Can I come in you?” He whispers, sucks at her earlobe and he really doesn’t know why he asks because they’ve been through this, they’re both clean and she takes her pills. He guesses he just wants to make sure that it was okay, needs her to say it.

“I want you to,” She smiles, kisses the spot below his ear and pulls him closer to her, holding him tight as he rocks into her and then she clenches her walls on purpose, making him spill hot and thick into her.

“Jesus.” Dean breathes down her neck, sucks and drags his tongue along her throat, rides out his orgasm while she rains kisses on the side of his face.

“You sure you don’t want to stay over?” He asks as he parks in front of her building, even though he knows her answer. He knows that she doesn’t really like to be told what to do and maybe sometimes, she thinks that he wishes she’d give in more.

She can’t say that she doesn’t want him to drive her back but she really needs to get sleep and if she’d stay, sleep is probably the last thing on both their minds. “Positive.”

“Your loss,” He shrugs and pouts, making her look at him and laugh.

“No, actually, it’s your loss.” She grins, and she knows that he probably blames himself because it took him longer to get home. She kisses his pouting mouth, thinks it’s cute that he tries to pout at all.

Y/N slips out after, right on time before it could get too heavy and it would be harder to part.

“Hey!” Dean calls out before she could close the door.

He throws her a little box and she manages to catch it with both her hands. “A little something,” He winks and smiles and she closes the door with a big question mark on her face.

Back in her room, she stares at the box, her heart thumps in her chest. Why is he giving her a box and drives off without even waiting for her to say anything?

With shaking fingers, she opens it, peeks in and chuckles before he lifts the lid of the box. It’s a vaginal vibrator and she’s blushing when she takes it out. There’s a button to turn it on and she does but nothing’s happening.

She looks inside again and there’s a manual. It says that it comes with a remote that can be used to turn it on and off but the remote is nowhere to be found.

Taking her phone out of her pocket, she texts Dean.

Y/N: There’s no remote.

D: I have the remote. Have a good night, sweetheart xx

P.11

#teacher of the year #dean winchester #professor!dean #dean winchester x reader #dean winchester fic #dean winchester fan fic #dean winchester fan fiction #nathalie writes

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asterkiss · 3 years

Text

Claimed Pt IX, X and XI

Summary: An attempt to make a deal with a certain demon doesn’t go as Mabel planned. “Sorry kid but regardless of the pitch you’re selling me, your soul’s already claimed.“ Wait, what?

Read from beginning here. Also being compiled on AO3 here.

Really trying to finish this off so have multiple parts.

- CLAIMED Pt. IX

Seducing a fairy king wasn’t as easy as it may appear on paper.

Mabel may be a renown flirt queen when it came to guys in her own dimension, but the Erlking wasn’t exactly on the same standing as the cute boys in hoodies and sweatpants. His beauty was an unnatural scale where the very air around his seemed to bend to his will so as not to put a single hair out of place.

Mabel had the feeling he wouldn’t simply bow down to her from a stupid pick-up line as was her normal routine. (No matter how good the pick-up line may be).

It was everything she could do in her power to not be seduced by his inhumane charm and beauty, how on earth was she meant to turn it the other way around so she could rob him?

That said, the Erlking often invited her out on short “dates” where it was just the two of them alone.

Each time he would ask:

‘Will you break your deal with that demon?’

And each time she would reply:

‘No.’

She could tell it frustrated him even if he tried to hide it beneath his handsome features.

‘You are a stubborn one, Schatz,’ he sighed, turning to peer out across the lake with emerald eyes.

‘You don’t know the half of it.’

He had invited her out that morning for a walk, and Mabel had taken the opportunity of requesting it be by the lake so she could scope her so called “exit” out, at least according to Bill. It was large with pristine clear water and an abundance of colourful, glowing plants beneath its surface. And apparently at its centre deep beneath the surface lay a gate in waiting.

Mabel would get to it no matter what.

She just needed to get this guy away from his staff for five minutes but no dice, he acted like the thing was attached to him.

‘So, what exactly was the deal I made with you?’ Mable asked, peering up at him as she tried to consider the best way to steal from this guy.

‘You and I promised ourselves to one another.’

If Mabel had been drinking she would have promptly spat it out at this moment. ‘R-Really? Wow, I, uh… I would have thought I’d remember that!’

He gave a small chuckle as he turned towards her, raising a hand to push a stray lock of hair behind her ear. ‘You were young, but a promise is a promise.’

Mabel could feel her cheeks becoming somewhat flushed at the intimate gesture. She’d agreed to marry a guy when she was a kid? That… definitely sounded like something she would do. Hell, she’d probably made similar promises with whatever cute boys agreed to it. She just never expected one to actually come and see it through let alone for him to be a fairy.

The hand on her ear traced a path line down her jawline and she shivered at his icy touch. No, bad Mable, stay focused. ‘So, you’re saying we’re like, engaged?’

‘Indeed.’

Oh God. She swallowed thickly, heartbeat pounding in her ears. ‘A-And my deal with Bill is stopping that?’

The king’s expression darkened at the mention of the demon. ‘My dear, you are beautiful.’

‘Oh, ah, thank you.’ Random change in topic but she was flattered none the less.

‘The promise we swore upon one another was important enough to be ingrained within your delicate soul. It was proof to others that you were not to be touched. And yet…’ His face twisted, beautiful features transforming into something unpleasant. ‘To allow a demon to stake claim on your soul is to allow him to mar your very innocence. I cannot carry out my promise and welcome you into my kingdom when your soul is blemished by his very touch. To allow entry of such an ugly and vile mistake would stain my very ruling upon mu kingdom.’

Mabel wasn’t sure what to say, she could only stare in surprise as he spat his words out venomously. He seemed like an entirely different person.

Noticing her expression, the fae quickly amended his face and smiled serenely at her. ‘I do not blame you of course, he is the one filled with deceit and manipulation. However, as I have said, he will happily agree to you rescinding the deal.’

‘Which would mean… we’d be able to get married?’

‘Indeed.’

‘And I could never go back to my family.’

‘You cannot leave this realm, no.’ He grinned. ‘But do not worry, we will become your new family. You will breed several beautiful offspring for us―’

She blanched.

‘―and our lineage will be strong and capable.’

‘O-Oh yeah?’ Mabel faltered over her words in surprise. Wow, this guy was already talking about kids? Talk about forward. Also, the way he said “us” was slightly unnerving. He meant that as in the two of them, not like him plus other fae here? Right?

She found herself unable to voice that question, somewhat terrified of the answer it might procure. Instead, she asked: ‘Why me?’

He took a step forward, leaning over her with a piercing gaze as he cupped her face in his cool hands. Despite the uneasy feeling in her stomach heat still rose to her cheeks.

‘I chose you for it was you who rescued me from peril many years ago.’

She stared in wonder, lips parting. She had?

‘You are my saviour, my Schatz.’

- CLAIMED Pt. X

‘Oh yeah, the fae sometimes snatch up creatures from other dimensions to breed with. I don’t know the details but something to do about strengthening their progeny and race.’

Mable peered out across the tree-tops from her window for a moment, watching the sun setting in a splash of colour. Eventually, she turned her attention to Bill currently laid across her bed looking like he owned it, arms folded beneath his head.

‘I guess humans have something they want to add to the fae mix.’

‘What would they want from me? Or, I mean, humans?’ It wasn’t like humans had special powers or anything fancy like that.

Bill shrugged. ‘Beats me. They bred with a Eldanechk ten thousand years ago which gave them the ability to see in the dark but also made them vulnerable to iron.’

She frowned. So any human would have satisfied the fae, she just so happened to be picked because she apparently saved the Erlking? With a sigh she pushed herself away from the window and approached the bed, taking a seat on the edge. It was odd to be sitting so closely with the demon in such a casual manner but her mind was more attuned to other dangers outside of this bedroom right now.

‘I really wish I could remember meeting the king when I was younger but I just don’t.’ She’d tried and tired to no avail.

‘Probably because he didn’t look like that.’

She perked up at that. ‘What do you mean?’

Bill pushed himself into a sitting position, meeting her gaze. ‘Most fae folk can’t exist in their true form when they travel to another dimension, certainly not for long anyways.

Most creatures have limitations when visiting worlds they’re not native to.’

‘You mean like how you’re unable to use your powers here?’

The demon’s expression soured at that. ‘Yeah.’ A pause. ‘But hey, I can use my powers in most dimensions! It ain’t my fault that like eight of them can’t handle me at my full strength!’

Mable snorted as he tried to defend himself which only made his scowl harden. As she stood up to walk away he yelled after her, even going so far as to grab her hairbrush. He was mid-way in the process of throwing it before his shock collar activated.

‘Gyckh-! S-Stupid fairies!’

- CLAIMED Pt. XI

Mable wasn’t entirely sure how but one day she somehow found herself taking a walk with none other than Bill Cipher for company.

The demon had been getting a bad case of cabin fever after being holed up in their accommodation but unfortunately wasn’t permitted to leave without “supervision”. Every time he tried to leave the place he got shocked.

It turned out however that because he was her “pet” the fae would allow him outside if he was tagging along with her.

There was just one condition.

‘Hey, stop pulling,’ Mabel scolded, yanking on the lead. Bill let out a short choke as he was tugged back, stumbling a step before he turned to glare at her.

If looks could kill.

But hey, it wasn’t Mabel who had attached a leash to his shock collar! (Though, admittedly, she was enjoying the whole situation).

‘When I get my powers back I will end you.’

‘If you get them back, you mean.’

He released a cruel laugh as they continued walking along. ‘I will! You’ll be swayed by that fae’s looks one of these days. Everyone knows you’re not the smart twin.’

Her lips turned at that remark and she gave the leash another yank.

‘I had enough brain to outsmart you,’ she retorted.

He didn’t have a witty comeback to that.

The pair continued walking through the woodlands that made up the fae kingdom and surrounded its small city. They had been advised that a perimeter surrounding the area was enforced by a magical barrier and therefore escape was impossible. It was the only reason they had been allowed to scamper off unsupervised by anybody else, the fae were that confident they had them trapped.

Even so, Bill wished to go check it out which was the reason for their outing this morning.

It was obvious when they did eventually come across it. Upon crossing a river, Mabel noticed that the air up ahead seemed to take on a shimmer and the air hummed with magic. The nearer they approached it, the warmer their surroundings seemed to get.

Bill stood up against the barrier and studied it with a sharp eye whilst she took it in with wonder.

She noticed a rabbit on the other side of the barrier and watched it curiously. It came up towards the barrier before abruptly turning and going in the other direction.

Huh.

Mable looked around and picked up a broken branch, after a moment of consideration she threw it.

It sailed past the barrier without incident.

Bill watched her actions with curiosity before turning to search for something on the ground. A moment later, he also picked something up.

‘What is that?’

‘A beetle. Want to taste it?’

Mable made a face. ‘Ew, no, that’s gross.’

Bill shrugged. ‘Your loss then.’ He threw the bug at the barrier.

There was a shock of electricity when it made contact, and both Mable and Bill jumped at the eruption of sizzling that permeated the air.

When all done and gone, there sat a fried and crispy bug on the floor.

‘...Huh. So my theory was correct, it doesn’t let things through that are alive.’

Mable gave him a pointed look. ‘Did you really have to fry a beetle alive to confirm that?’

‘Would you rather I use you as a test subject instead?’ he asked, arching an eyebrow.

Before she could respond, a pair of distant voices reached their ears. But they were getting closer.

Two humanoid shapes came into view in the distance, and before Mable could do anything Bill yanked her aside and pulled the both of them out of sight behind a tree. The demon slapped his hand over her mouth and she would have protested had the voices not come into focus.

‘...wonder how much longer we have to wait.’

They peered around through the thick foliage to see two fae dressed in clothing that gave a sentiel appearence.

Guards.

The shorter of the pair shrugged casually. ‘Not long. Have you seen how the human acts around our King? She’s one step away from giving in. I heard humans like to play hard to get when they’re courting, that’s all she’s doing.’

‘Hm. What about her pet though?’

‘The demon? I heard that once the human breaks off their deal, the King’s going to hand him over to the scientists for experiments.’

‘Hah! Serves him right for messing with one of our claims.’

Their laughter faded until they were completely gone, and Mabel and Bill were left alone.

Bill remained still, his hand covering her mouth. Unlike the Erlking’s cold touch, the demon actually felt warm. It was weird, when they’d made their deal his flames had felt like ice shooting through her veins but in this form he felt, well, human.

She didn’t like it.

‘Urgh! Did you just lick me!?’

Mabel took the opportunity of his surprise to jerk away from him, turning to meet his annoyed glare.

‘Are you okay?’

He faltered. ‘H-Huh?’

‘What those two fae were saying...’ She trailed off.

‘Those imbeciles? Like I’d be bothered by their idiocy! Have you forgotten who I am, Shooting Star? It won’t be so easy for drivel like them to get the best of me.’

For somebody who claimed to be such a good liar and manipulator he was doing a bad job right now of hiding his real emotions. Perhaps because he was in this body?

It made him appear even more human, to the point one could almost forget he was actually a demonic triangle hell-bent on destroying her family and world.

So she needed him to act like his usual self.

‘Wha- hey, did you just pinch me!? You little brat-!’

‘Jeez, will you give it a rest and just face the facts. Regardless of what you or those guys think, I’m not going to give in,’ she insisted, face set in firm determination. ‘And you have every reason to be on my side now. So let’s work together and escape this place, alright?’

Bill regarded her warily, they were enemies. But right now they had tougher fish to fry. Or they were both done for.

He clicked his tongue in defeat, obvious distaste covering his face. ‘...Fine. But once we’re out of here, I don’t owe you anything anymore, got it? That’s my condition.'

Her face fell at that. Mable thought back to her original reason for tricking Bill to begin with. Their whole original deal which had set this thing in motion.

She had to give that up?

Then again, what was the point in trying to fight for Grunkle Stan if the alternative was being stuck here unable to see him ever again anyways.

Her shoulders slumped in defeat and she eventually gave a small nod.

‘Got it.’

#claimed #mabill #mabel and bill actually decide to work together #and are getting slightly closer #also this thing is gonna be like 20 parts so half-way there #why is it everytime i try to do something short and small it goes way too long #(i know why. i like plot too much)#ff update

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callboxkat · 4 years

Text

A Little Nightmare (part 9)

Author’s note: Thank you to everyone who’s stuck with this story! I hope you enjoy its conclusion!

Warnings: Illness and injury, fear, arguing, fear of being kept against your will, dog mention, food mention, near-drowning mention

Word count: 6416

A Little Nightmare Masterpost!

Writing Masterpost!

...

It turned out that sleeping was a lot easier when Remy wasn’t afraid of a gigantic bloodthirsty beast barging in and devouring her alive. Joan’s goofy looking corgi, Marco, didn’t exactly inspire the same paranoid insomnia. He was still a dog, but he was nowhere near what she had been imagining.

Maybe it was actually too easy to sleep, if the fact that she didn’t wake up until well past noon was anything to go by. She didn’t have a clock at her disposal in the room; but she could tell she had slept late as soon as she woke up. The placement of the shadows in the room only confirmed this feeling.

On the one hand, Remy was both a bit embarrassed and annoyed to have slept for so long. On the other, there were only a few hours left in the deal she had made with Joan, where she had agreed to stay with them for two days to recover in exchange for being brought back to the place where this had all begun. The place where Joan obviously believed she had family waiting for her; but which in fact only gave her an opportunity to retrieve her lost supplies and continue on her dangerous mission to find a home. The place where she had very nearly died, in the very undignified manner of drowning in a bucket.

She’d be lying if she tried to say that returning to that lifestyle, especially given her recent brush with death, didn’t fill her with a mixture of dread, anxiety, and profound exhaustion. But she knew she had to go. There were no other options. Or at least, no good ones.

Remy sighed, pushing away the blanket, sniffling. She slowly got to her feet, rubbing sleep from her eyes, and walked to the small shot glass of water that Joan had left behind for her. She picked up the aluminum cup that sat beside it, which she had refolded—Joan should really stick to things their size. This, she used to scoop up some water. She settled herself down beside the shot glass to drink it.

A few minutes later, there was a soft knock at the door, which slowly opened.

“Hey, Nunya, sorry to wake you, but I need to let Marco… oh, hi.” Joan seemed surprised to see her already up.

Remy sipped her water.

“Good morning. Or, I guess it’s technically afternoon. Anyway, I wanted to let you know that I’m taking Marco out of my room. He needs outside.” They leaned on the door frame. “Want some food when I get back?”

“Coffee?”

Joan snorted. “Yeah, I’ll get you coffee. But what about food? I’d assume you’re hungry.”

Remy wasn’t incredibly hungry, since she’d just woken up, but littles were not ones to turn down food. “I mean, like, yeah.”

“Cool. Breakfast or lunch?”

Remy furrowed her brows, tilting her head as she stared at them. “…Yeeessss?” Was there a difference? Food was food.

Joan frowned slightly at her reaction, seeming confused. “Well. Okay. I’m gonna go take Marco out now. I’m probably going to let him hang out in the kitchen while I cook, too, so you know.”

Remy appreciated that Joan had kept their word about giving her a heads up, so she just said, “Don’t forget my coffee.”

Joan saluted and ducked out of the room, shutting the door behind them. There was an odd look in their eyes as they did it, but Remy decided not to dwell on it.

…

“So… how long until 3:30?”

Joan paused, their fork hovering over their own bowl of noodles. They swallowed. “A little under three hours,” they admitted, tapping their fork on the side of their dish before scooping up another forkful of food.

Remy shifted. “You’re still taking me back, right?”

Joan quickly chewed and swallowed. “’Course. I promised, didn’t I?”

“You did.”

Joan watched her for a moment, making Remy feel self-conscious. She pretended not to notice, just eating her own meal.

“Can I ask you something?”

“You just did, girl.”

Joan rolled their eyes, then looked at her with a more serious expression. “It’s just that you always say, “take me back”. Never “take me home”.”

Remy forced herself not to react too strongly. Instead, she folded her arms, and raised an eyebrow. “So?”

“So, I just… I don’t know. You do have a home, right?”

“Girl, like what are you even talking about? Of course I have a home! What do you think we’re doing here? Jeez.”

She wasn’t sure Joan was convinced, but they just sighed. “Sorry, I’m just… you know, I want you to be okay after you leave.”

Remy muffled a cough. “Bruh. Ma’am. Girl. Whatever. Maybe I just don’t want you to know where I live. Did you ever consider that, Joan?”

The human frowned slightly. “Maybe.”

“And like, you don’t get to decide if my home’s good enough to go back to, or whatever, so stop acting like you do. It’s not a good look.”

Joan looked up at the ceiling for a few seconds, then nodded. “Okay, yeah, fine. Sorry if I came off that way. I am taking you back today.”

“At 3:30?”

“At 3:30.”

“Gucci.”

Joan looked baffled. “You know what Gucci is?”

“Yeah. You know, like, good? I’m not an idiot.”

They looked no less confused, but they just said, “Right.”

Remy went back to eating. After a few seconds, so did Joan.

“So,” they asked after a while, “what do you want to do until 3:30? We’ve got some time to kill.”

Remy thoughtfully chewed on a piece of carrot, then swallowed. “Do you have a sewing kit?”

Joan nodded. “Yeah, I have a sewing kit. What for?”

“I’m going to sew a human trap.”

Joan smirked. “Ah, I see. You’re going to need a lot of thread, then.”

“Mmm, maybe.” She shrugged. “We’ll see.”

“Really though. What color thread do you need? Any fabric?”

Remy stared at them for a few seconds, vaguely suspicious, then gestured at her jacket. “This color?”

Joan leaned forward, the smallest trace of hurt flashing in their eyes as she leaned back in response. She almost felt bad about it.

“Sure, I can do that,” they said.

Silence fell after that, slightly uncomfortable as the two simply ate their meals. Finally, Remy cleared her throat—a mistake, her painful ribs immediately reminded her.

Joan glanced up.

“So… how long have you lived in this place, anyway?”

“Oh, you’re curious?”

“More like bored.” And trying not to think about how nervous she was about the end of their deal, which expired in less than three hours.

“Ah, I see.”

“So? Is this, like, an old building?” Remy asked. “Have you lived here a long time?”

Joan shrugged, considering. “Yeah, it’s pretty old. I had it remodeled a bit after I inherited it, about... I guess it was around seven years ago now. But it’s mostly the same. I’ve lived here since then.”

“Inherited?”

“You know, like when your family member dies and what was theirs becomes yours.”

Remy frowned up at Joan. “So... your parents died?” That was unfortunate. She had thought that humans usually got to be older before they lost their parents.

“No, no, my uncle.” Joan corrected. “He and my aunt didn’t have any kids, and she isn’t into this whole landlord thing. So it got left to me, and I split whatever profits I make with my aunt. Basically, people pay me to live here, and I keep everything running and fix it if it breaks, and take care of stuff like… ah, sorry, that’s boring. Anyway, I never really planned on being a landlord; but I figured it was better than selling to somebody who’s probably going to double everyone’s rent.”

“That sucks,” Remy declared. Your uncle dies, and then you have to do work? Yuck.

“It’s not so bad,” Joan shrugged. “I get to work from home, I don’t have to pay rent... could be a lot worse.”

Remy shrugged, sticking another noodle in her mouth.

“You like the pasta?” Joan asked.

Remy slurped up the noodle like she was a character in Lady and the Tramp. “Girl, you should never trust someone who doesn’t like pasta.”

Joan chuckled. “Noted.” They set down their fork and started to get up. “I’m going to go put this in the kitchen, and get that sewing kit. I’ll be right back.”

Remy watched as they left the room. When the door shut, the coughing fit she’d been fighting back for the past few minutes refused to be put off any longer, and she shoved her face in the crook of her elbow to muffle the noise, her other arm wrapped around her painful ribs as the coughs wracked her frame.

…

Remy pulled the needle through the fabric, pausing to inspect her work.

Not bad, but she remembered now why she’d put off adding pockets to her jacket for so long. Stitching fabric was a pain in in the *ss. This was an opinion which was probably only strengthened by the fact that Remy was… not especially good at it. She’d never been interested in it much, even though her parents had tried to teach her. And it had never come easily to her. At least her girlfriend had been willing to help out, when they had been together.

…Nope, Remy was not thinking about her. She was still salty about how things had ended, and going down that rabbit hole wouldn’t help her.

Too clingy. She wasn’t too clingy! She was, like, the perfect about of clingy, thank you very much.

Remy coughed, going back for another stitch. So much for not thinking about her.

She finished up sewing the first pocket, pausing to look over her handiwork. Kind of uneven, but it would serve her fine. She shoved her jacket around in her lap until she was at the opposite side, and picked up a piece of graphite Joan had brought her to mark a line where the second pocket’s opening would go. Then, she picked up the miniature pair of scissors. They were cumbersome, since they were still far too big for a little; but her handmade knife was in her backpack at the bottom of a water-filled bucket, probably rusting and rotting away. So she’d have to make do with the scissors.

She carefully lined up the fabric, then pushed down on one side of the scissors to make the cut. The fabric shifted as she did, so it ended up crooked.

“Girl, come on,” she moaned.

It was only crooked by a couple of millimeters, but she was still pissed. Sure, she could sew it up and try again, but there’d still be visible stitches, and Remy did not want to repeat this whole process when she might well get it wrong again.

So, crooked pocket it was.

She sat down, pulled over the fabric, sewing needle, and thread, and got back to work.

…

By the time the fateful hour finally came, Remy had finished her jacket modifications and put everything back in the sewing kit, although perhaps not as neatly as it had been when she got it. Now, she waited, sitting on the blanket, sipping coffee from an aluminum cup. She had a feeling it might be the last coffee she got for quite a while.

She sniffled and resisted the urge to wipe her nose with her sleeve. Stupid cold.

She held on tight to the shovel-spoon sitting across her lap, ignoring the way her stomach churned with nerves.

Everything would be fine, she told herself. Joan would take her back, she’d get her supplies, and she’d bounce. She’d find a new home. She would be okay.

Finally, there was a faint knock on the door, and it opened. Joan stood there. They looked rather dejected, but attempted a smile when they saw her. It didn’t quite reach their eyes.

“Well… it’s time,” they said. “Are you sure you still want to do this?”

Remy ignored the nagging feeling in the back of her mind, simply saying, “Yes.” She set her jaw, waiting for their inevitable attempts to renegotiate their deal.

“Okay. That’s chill. Just let me go get my car keys.”

Remy’s jaw dropped. “Wait. Wait, wait, wait. You’re actually doing it? You’re letting me go? Just… like that?”

Joan sighed. “Look, I think we both know I’d rather you stayed longer. And that’s an open invitation. But I promised that I’d take you back, and so I will. I don’t break promises.”

Remy opened her mouth and shut it again. “Well… good,” she finally said. “Let’s go, then.”

Joan nodded. “Alright. I’ll be right back.”

Remy watched them go, a bit of anxiety fluttering through her sore chest. Rationally, she supposed she should have known what Joan taking her “home” would involve, but now that the moment was here, she still couldn’t help but be… well, more than a little scared, that was for sure.

Remy waited, sitting on the blanket, listening as the human walked around the apartment, pausing here and there, before disappearing, presumably outside.

They were back before she had too much time to dwell on whether this was really what she wanted. Remy finished off her coffee, stashed the aluminum cup in one of her new jacket pockets, and got to her feet, leaning on her plastic shovel-spoon like a cane.

Joan knelt down in front of her, hesitated, then held out a hand. “Ready to go?””

There was a small pause.

“Is this okay?” Joan asked, biting their lip. “I can find something else to carry you in. I know you said “no carrying”—several times, actually,--but I do need to carry you into the car. There’s not really a way around that. Sorry. We could try the sled thing, but we can’t do that outside.”

Remy knew they were right, as much as she disliked it. She could tell them to pick her up in something else, so she wasn’t in their hand, but she supposed that would just give them more time to change their mind, and her more time to chicken out. So she slowly got to her feet, and she climbed onto Joan’s hand, hoping they couldn’t feel her trembling.

It was… really f*cking weird.

The fleshy walls of their palm and fingers were all around her, radiating warmth as their fingers curled in closer. She stiffened despite herself, but they didn’t restrict her.

Joan let out a slow breath. “Okay. I’m going to pick you up now.”

Remy’s eyes darted up at them. “Get on with it, b*tch not-a-boy.”

Joan blinked, then let out a surprised laugh that turned into a cough. They took it slowly as they stood up, which Remy, on one hand, appreciated, but also couldn’t help but be annoyed by, since it meant she had to be in these hands all the longer.

Joan put the hand to their torso to hold it steady and stared walking. Remy clutched tightly to their hands, well aware of the drop below, and justifiably nervous about the whole situation.

“Ow,” Joan muttered. “You’re pinching me.”

Remy let go. Sort of.

They kept her close to their chest as they made it down the hall, through the kitchen, and to the front door of their apartment. It was weird to see it all from this high up. It made their furniture and belongings almost look normal sized, they appeared so small. Someone of her size probably looked like an ant to Joan. She shivered at the thought.

“Everything okay?” Joan asked under their breath, opening the door.

“Fine,” Remy mumbled, hunching down in the hand. As weird as it was to be in a freaking hand, she would happily press herself further into it if it meant keeping herself from being seen. Joan seemed to have a similar thought, curling their fingers more closely around her.

“Just a short walk,” Joan said in a low voice. They turned and closed the door, locking it behind them, and walked more briskly after that. Remy squeezed her eyes shut, the movements sending waves of pain through her sore body, but she didn’t dare ask them to slow down. She knew this was for the best, anyway. Less time in the open meant less time for somebody to see them. And the sooner they left, the sooner she’d be out of there for good.

There was a gust of wind that ruffled Remy’s hair, prompting her to open her eyes. Through Joan’s cupped fingers, she could see enough to tell that they were outside. The lower temperature and slight drizzle might have also given that away, though, to be perfectly fair.

Joan walked up to a blue car parked on the street and opened the passenger side door.

“Thank you for choosing The Spectacular Joan’s Transportation Services, today, miss. I’ll be your driver, Joan.”

Remy dared to shoot up a baffled look. Joan looked quite pleased with their joke, although Remy didn’t understand it at all.

A part of her wanted to ask them to explain, but she shook her head, admonishing her own curiosity. No. Why should she care about a human’s jokes?

Besides, jokes weren’t as funny if they had to be explained, anyway. But it was mostly the why-should-she-care thing. Obvs.

“I figured a seat belt might not be so good for… someone your size,” Joan whispered, ”but I don’t want you just sliding around every time I have to brake. So…” They uncurled their fingers enough to let her look. Sitting in the passenger seat of the car was a smallish cardboard box with what looked like a shirt folded up inside it. Parts of the fabric were pulled up in the front and back of the box, forming soft walls there.

“It’s not glamorous,” Joan admitted.

“Please tell me that shirt’s clean,” Remy said, staring down at it mistrustfully.

Joan exhaled, amused. “It is, don’t worry. Is… is this okay?”

Remy hesitated.

As much as she wanted to believe that Joan was keeping her word, as much as evidence seemed to show that they would, she couldn’t help her fear. What if Joan wouldn’t take her back? What if they were taking her somewhere else? Somewhere she’d be killed, or tortured, or exposed to the world?

…No, she reminded herself. That didn’t make sense, did it? They would have just let her die if they wanted her dead. And they didn’t need to leave their apartment to reveal her existence. She knew about phones.

She might have worried that Joan had grown bored of her, but Remy was the life of the party.

…Okay, maybe not for the past few days. Maybe her usual spunk had gotten a bit… damp. But she was not boring.

She wasn’t sure how she felt about that cardboard box, though. It was possible that Joan wanted her to get inside to be easily trapped.

But, again, what would be the point? And why would they want to? How would that fit in at all with everything else they’d done over the past two days?

She needed to just trust that they were keeping their word, and that going back was the right decision.

“I just want to go home,” Remy said at last.

That was not a lie. It also wasn’t quite the truth, either, since it implied she still had a home. But Joan didn’t need to know that that didn’t exist at all. She would just stick to her plan. Get her hook, go fishing for her backpack, and blow that popsicle stand. She’d find herself a new home. One with coffee and everything else she needed, and with no humans who knew about her. She’d be able to start fresh. She hoped.

Joan seemed to accept her answer. But when they moved to lower her down into the box, Remy tensed again, gripping their hand hard enough to pinch.

Joan paused, and she slowly let go.

“What now?”

Remy swallowed. “I just… I’ve never been in a car before.”

“Um. Yeah, you have.”

Remy pouted, glaring at them. “Don’t be a smart*ss. You know that doesn’t count!”

“Okay, I guess you’re right. It’s not so bad. It’s probably going to be weird at first, but you’ll get used to it.”

“…Fine.”

They lowered her down to the box, and she didn’t stop them this time. They let her scoot off of their hand and into the container. She sat down in the cushioning the tee shirt provided, pressed against one of the cardboard walls. Joan closed the door and walked around to the other side of the car.

Remy closed her eyes, her heart hammering. And then she sneezed, which proved to be a pretty effective distraction. For as long as it took Joan to walk around to the other side of the car and sit down in the driver’s seat, anyway.

…

Joan got settled, casting one glance at their passenger. She was watching them from where she sat, pressed up against one of the walls of the shoebox they’d buckled into the seat. Their mom would be proud of their consideration for safety.

“Bit of a noise,” they warned, before putting the key in the ignition and twisting it. The engine roared to life. “And now we’re moving.” They pulled out and they stared driving in the direction of their aunt’s house. The tiny young woman might have squeaked as the car first began to move, but she seemed determined to pretend it hadn’t happened, and Joan saw no harm in letting her.

As they drove, Joan couldn’t help the heavy feeling that rested in their chest. The fact was, they didn’t want their guest to leave. Not at all. And not only because she was still hurt, but because they… well, they liked her. They liked her sass. She was fun to talk to, when she wasn’t being combative or fearful. She’d really come around in the past couple of days, despite their screw ups.

Joan would have liked to consider her a friend. They almost believed the feeling might be mutual.

They rode in silence, and they made good time for the first part of the trip. Their passenger seemed to grow used to the sound and movement of the car, curling into a corner of the box and making herself comfortable.

Just at the halfway point of the trip, they hit a snag.

“There’s a train going through town,” Joan sighed, coming to a stop near the tracks. “We’ll have to wait for it to pass. Sometimes they take a while, especially if its switching direction. Sorry about that. We’ll get going as soon as it’s gone.”

No response came from the box, which surprised them. They’d have expected a comment about how they were probably just stalling. Some kind of sass, anyway, at least. They glanced over.

The girl was sitting in the box, leaning against the wall of it. She was slightly slumped forward, her head lolling down.

Joan paused, then lowered their voice. “Nunya?” they asked quietly.

No response. She must have somehow managed to fall asleep along the way, despite how bouncy the ride must have seemed to her, and stayed that way despite how loud the bells at the railroad crossing were. Joan looked over her tiny, sleeping form, then sighed through their nose. They were silent for a moment, watching the train cars pass by.

“I hope you really do have a family out there,” they commented softly. “Or someone who’ll take care of you, anyway.”

Sure, the tiny woman was very much alive, but she wasn’t exactly ready to go roughing it out in the world. Not by a long shot. Not as far as Joan was concerned. The image of her when they’d found her, half dead with blue lips and water in her lungs, was still all too clear in their mind.

But they had made a promise. Maybe it was a mistake, letting her leave so soon. But Joan knew that that wasn’t their mistake to make. She was her own person, and Joan was not planning to hold her against her will. They just had to hope that she would be alright.

They watched her for a few moments where she sat, unmoving, her dark hair falling into her face and mostly hiding it from view.

The train rolled along, very slowly, making a rhythmic clacking sound that they could hear over the sound of the bells. Normally, it would drive Joan crazy how slowly the train moved through town; but today, they were almost glad for it. This was one time that Joan didn’t mind the train lengthening their trip.

They looked back to their passenger, “Nunya”.

“Are you even really asleep?” Joan mumbled aloud, keeping their voice soft to avoid waking her if that actually was the case. They wouldn’t have been surprised if she was faking it. It wouldn’t have been the first time.

She didn’t react to their question. If she was awake, she wasn’t planning on sharing that information.

Joan gripped the steering wheel, then put their hands in their lap. They watched the train again. More graffiti-decorated cars rolled past, one after another after another. It was a long train, and not in a hurry.

A car horn sounded, and Joan rolled their eyes. Someone had pulled up behind them and was apparently not pleased by the delay. Joan didn’t know what the driver expected them to do about it. They had many talents, but driving through solid steel train cars was not one of them.

The horn honked again. “Nunya” jerked slightly, making a sound. Joan glanced down at her, but she had gone still again, her head now resting against the side of the box.

The car behind them suddenly swerved away and gunned it down a road parallel to the railroad tracks. Probably hoping to find a detour. It might have been a good plan, except that as soon as they were out of sight, the last railcar rolled past.

Joan laughed silently, then released the brake, easing the car up and over the tracks. The bumps shook the car despite their low speed, bumps that Joan never would have paid much attention to normally. They cast another glance at the girl in the passenger seat, who had shifted slightly as the car was jostled, but hadn’t woken. In the absence of the train and the bells, and with the car’s slowness minimizing the sound of the engine, they just barely made out a quiet snore when they strained their ears.

The last time she had feigned sleep, they remembered, she hadn’t snored. She wasn’t faking. She really had slept through all of that, despite being in a moving car at her size, at railroad tracks, as a train passed by.

She definitely wasn’t well enough to be alone. She was still hurt and weak from her ordeal; and they were pretty sure she was sick, too. And based on some of the things she had said, Joan was beginning to suspect that there really might not be anyone waiting for her to come home. If she even had any sort of home to return to at all.

Am I chauffeuring this girl to her death? Their throat constricted, and their clothes suddenly felt too tight. They pulled over to the side of the residential street and put the car in park, breathing as steadily as they could.

Joan tugged off their beanie and leaned forward until their forehead rested against the steering wheel, listening to the rumble of the engine. They closed their eyes, breathing heavily and attempting to stomp down their oncoming panic. They turned to the breathing pattern that they often used whenever they felt one of their annoyingly common panic attacks coming on. They breathed in. They counted. They breathed out. Again.

4… 7… 8… 4… 7… 8….

A few more times.

The familiar pattern and the distraction it provided slowly allowed them to calm down. They kept their forehead on the wheel for a moment, just breathing.

Their companion was still asleep.

Joan allowed themself about thirty more seconds to calm down before they put the car back in drive and pulled out onto the road.

They made it to their aunt’s house without any further incident, and they carefully pulled the car up to the curb. They put it in park and turned it off, and then sat there for a second or two in silence. The time had arrived.

Joan had to say goodbye.

They turned to the seat beside them and looked down at the cardboard box buckled in there. It seemed the sudden absence of the sound of the car engine had finally roused their passenger: she was shifting where she sat, blinking groggily. She straightened up and looked up at Joan, wiping at the corner of her mouth. She subconsciously smoothed down her hair, looking around.

“What…? Why’d we stop?” she asked, sounding sleepy and vaguely suspicious. “Are you like stalling for time or something?”

“No,” Joan said quickly, before she could grow alarmed and start trying to ‘escape’. “We’re here. I just didn’t want to startle you.”

She stared. “We’re here already?”

Joan shrugged. “I mean, yeah. I think you fell asleep, but it’s not a long trip anyway. I did tell you it was like ten minutes.” They decided it wasn’t important to mention that it had actually taken longer than usual that day, especially after she’d already accused them of stalling for time. They weren’t sure she’d really understand the concept of a railroad crossing.

“Well, yeah, girl, but come on. I thought you were, like, exaggerating.” She pushed herself to her feet and put her hands up on the side of the box, going up on her tiptoes to try to see better over the edge. “Can we get this over with, then? I’ve got places to be.”

Joan frowned, wondering if they’d imagined the slight tremble in her voice. Most likely, they had, they supposed. They just wanted to believe that she might want to stay with them. Or maybe she was scared they wouldn’t let her go. Which was… well, not a comforting thought.

“Sure. Let’s get this show on the road.” They unbuckled their seat belt and went to open the passenger side door, trying to ignore how heavy their heart felt.

…

Remy stared up at the car window, the blue sky and part of a tree visible through it, expectant. Still, she couldn’t help but jump slightly when Joan’s huge form came into view, blocking most of her view.

There was a loud click, and then the door opened.

Joan smiled down at her. “Alright. Thank you again for choosing The Spectacular Joan’s Transportation Services for all your transportation needs. Make sure to leave 5 stars and a good review.”

Remy blinked, not understanding the joke any better the second time. “Um… sure.”

Joan’s smile faltered; and then their expression turned more serious, almost sad. They hesitated for a few seconds.

“You sure you want to go?” they asked. “I mean… it’s dangerous, isn’t it? I’d be perfectly happy to let you stay a bit longer, until you’re healed. Heck, you can stay indefinitely if that’s what you want. I’m not going to force you, I swear; but… I really don’t know if you leaving is the best idea.”

Remy picked up her shovel-spoon and took a wide stance. “I want to go home,” she said, her voice as firm as she could make it.

Joan let out a long breath, and then nodded, apparently letting it go that easily. They reached towards her, and Remy braced herself, but all the human did was unbuckle the seatbelt that held the box still. Then, they paused. “How do you want to do this?” they asked.

“Um… I guess you could just… like, put me on the ground? I’ll be fine from there.”

Joan glanced around, probably to make sure no one was around, and then reached for the box. They picked it up, and Remy braced herself in the corner to keep from falling.

She felt the grass brush the bottom of the box as it was set down. Joan hesitated, then silently brought their hands towards her, pausing as if to ask permission. She took a half step forward, and they gently scooped her up and set her on her feet in the grass.

Remy shivered in the chill air. Dew clung to the waist-high grass, encouraged by the faint drizzle and cloudy sky. She could already feel the dampness trying to seep through her clothes, and she had to hold her tail aloft to keep it from getting in the muck. She sniffled. You’d really think her nose would be more considerate about timing. If she wasn’t careful, Joan would think she was crying or something. And then this would get even more awkward.

“So, that’s it, then?” Joan said softly.

Remy looked up at them, and she nodded. She looked towards the house, holding back a cough. The yellowing leaves fluttered on a scraggly tree in the yard. She could see the work bench from where she stood.

“Hey, um, before you go, could I ask you something?”

Remy blinked, glancing back. “Sure?”

“You don’t have to answer, but… what’s your name? Your real name? I just… I don’t really want to remember you as “Nunya Business”, you know?”

The little chewed her lip, then nodded to herself. “Remy,” she said. “My name is Remy.”

“Remy,” Joan repeated, trying it out.

“Don’t wear it out,” She said, rubbing her arm. “And I’m really not a borrower, by the way, so don’t go writing that in your diary.”

Joan laughed in a slightly-forced way. “Well, what are you then, Miss Totally-Not-A-Borrower?”

Remy looked at them for a moment, then decided there wasn’t much harm in them knowing. “A little. I did not pick the name. But I still hope you’re not stupid enough to go telling anybody, dumb name or not.”

“A little,” Joan echoed. They seemed to mull it over for a moment. They were probably trying to decide if it was a joke, like “Nunya Business”; but they seemed to accept that she was telling the truth.

A long moment passed.

“Remy?” Joan ventured. “Something wrong?”

Remy took a few steps, then stopped. She put her arms around herself and looked down, then slowly turned towards Joan.

“I…” she swallowed. “Thank you,” she said, “for helping me.”

Joan smiled, although it looked forced. They almost looked like they wanted to cry. “Anyone would have. I’m glad you’re… yeah.”

Remy nodded, glancing away again. She tapped the tip of her shovel-spoon absently on the earth.

Joan shifted, then nodded. “I’ll just… get going, then.” They got carefully back to their feet, picked up the cardboard box, and started back towards the car.

Remy watched them go, shifting where she stood.

They made it as far as the curb.

“Wait!” Remy cried.

Joan froze, brought up short.

She swallowed, then steeled herself with determination. “If… if I come back with you… I want you to do something for me first.”

…

“Here they are. One hook and rope, and one very soggy backpack.”

“Aw, thanks. How thoughtful.” Remy watched as Joan set them down in the box with her. The rope and hook looked fine, maybe a bit damp. The backpack, though… well, she’d have to see if anything could be salvaged from it.

“I didn’t even notice the hook last time I was here,” Joan said, watching as she pawed through the soggy items. “And the backpack… well, I kind of thought it was some old leaves or dirt or something.”

Remy sighed, pushing it away and wiping her hands on the tee shirt that formed the floor of the cardboard box. “Nasty,” she muttered.

“I wish you’d said something about this stuff. I’d’ve come to get them a lot sooner.”

Remy avoided their gaze. “That was kind of the point.”

Joan nodded slightly, moved to turn on the car, then paused and turned back to Remy.

“What made you change your mind?”

“Well… I never got to finish my ice cream, did I?” she pointed out mildly, crossed her legs.

Joan huffed out a laugh. “That’s true.” Their fingers tapped on the wheel. “So… is someone going to be missing you?”

She glanced away. “I think we both know the answer to that.”

“What happened?”

“Who says something happened?”

“Just your tone of voice. And you don’t really strike me as a loner.”

“Girl, you’ve known me for two days!”

“I learn fast.”

Remy shook her head, looked up at them, and then sighed. “Fine. You win. I’m just a lonely b*tch whose girlfriend broke up with her for being too clingy, and whose house got… got fumigated, so I had to grab some sh*t and run so I wouldn’t die. And then I almost died anyway. Happy?”

Joan’s eyes widened. “Fumigated?”

“Yeah. I don’t know. I think that’s the word. They thought they had rats or bugs or something. Guess I wasn’t a good roomie.”

Joan was silent for a long moment, and Remy realized that she hadn’t mentioned before that littles lived with humans. Whoops.

“I’m sorry that happened,” Joan said at last. “And about your girlfriend. That sucks. I’m really glad you got out okay, though.”

“Thanks,” Remy murmured.

“If you ever want to talk about it, well… we can always talk about it. Maybe have some coffee. Or a lot of coffee, assuming you didn’t sneak into the kitchen and drink it all already.”

Remy’s mouth twitched.

Joan turned the key in the ignition, and the engine roared to life. “Ready to go home, then, Remy?”

Home.

Remy considered the word.

She was going home, wasn’t she?

She felt nervous, but something deep within her told her that this was the right decision. Maybe her future was a little uncertain; maybe there were probably definitely some kinks that would have to be worked out along the way; and maybe she would never know for sure what had really happened to the littles who had once inhabited Joan’s walls; but this felt right. She settled in for the ride, and smiled up at Joan.

“I’m ready.”

#sanders sides #thomas sanders #infinitesimal!sides #ts sides #ts joan #ts remy #remy sanders #sleep sanders #joan stokes #infinitesimal!remy #infinitesimal!sleep #ts fic #ts fanfic #sanders sides fan fiction #fanfiction #ts #a little nightmare fic

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fazbear-security · 4 years

Text

Secret Tunnels & Surprise Visits

Mike hadn’t had a week off in nearly two years, and he wasn’t quite sure what to do with it.

He’d slept as late as he could, but that had only taken him to 1pm, and most of his siblings had extra curricular activities that would keep them out until at least 6pm. His mother was working until at least then, when she picked up the kids, and Sasha’s curfew wasn’t until 11pm (and boy, did she wring it for every minute she could get). He’d tried cleaning up around the house, but that had only taken up part of his Thursday, and as much as his mother had appreciated his hard work, it hadn’t been enough to satisfy the itch in his idle hands.

The pizzeria was being renovated that weekend, and was closed from Thursday to the following Wednesday, so Mike had a good full six or seven days all to himself. Already out of things to do around the house after day one, he’d decided to tackle the one task he (and everyone else in the house) had been putting off for years.

Organizing the basement.

“You have a lot of stuff down here.” Puppet commented as he climbed up on top of an old gear locker shoved against the stairs. A pair of old workout gloves and a rolled up mat were still stuffed in it, along with a set of resistance bands. Mike made a point not to look at it. “Like, a LOT a lot.” The slender animatronic that had taken up residence under his bed poked at the curling edge of an old sticker on the side of the locker. “Don’t you guys throw anything out?”

“Does it look like it?” Mike asked rhetorically as he surveyed the mess. Where was the best place to start? Christmas ‘91? His old college stuff? That box of yearbooks that stretched all the way back to Tara’s freshman year of high school? “That’s what we’re down here to do today - pare down all this junk and get rid of the stuff we really don’t need.”

“That’s easier said than done…” Puppet eyed the mess from his perch up on the locker before jumping down, and curiously opening the nearest box. “You’ve got more stuff down here than the old location had in storage….oh!” The little animatronic leaned over the edge of the large box - almost falling in - before scrambling back out with a little box clutched in his striped fingers, and a wide smile on his mask.

“Hey! I remember these!!” He popped open the lid and ran a cloth fingertip over the enamel pins on the board inside while Mike picked another box in a stack across the room, and started to dig through it. “These are the commemorative pins from 1987! They had me give these to employees as a gift at a big party!” Puppet tilted his head curiously. “How’d they get down here?”

“The night shift isn’t the first time I’ve worked for Freddy Fazbear’s Pizza, you know.” Mike made a face at the musty books inside the box he’d chosen, and closed it back up. His mother still might want to donate these to the library - best to just set these aside, for now. “I spent a few months making pizzas for the other location across town before I went to college. I was out sick when that party happened, but management gave me those pins the next day.”

“You mean...we could’ve met sooner?” Puppet looked down at the old pins - at the cutesy, cartoony faces of Freddy, Chica, Bonnie, Foxy, and the pizzeria’s logo - and some of his smile faded. Mike looked up from the box of old clothes he was sorting through at the heavy silence, and frowned.

“Don’t...don’t think too much about it, Puppet.” He advised, folding an old shirt that had stopped fitting a decade ago and setting it aside. “You wouldn’t have liked me when I was eighteen, anyway. I was kind of an as-...uh...kind of a jerk.” He quickly amended. Puppet frowned, and put the lid back on the box before jumping up and sliding it on top of the locker. He was absolutely keeping that.

“So?” The animatronic moved to Mike’s side, and stood as high as he could to try and see into the clothing box. “I’ve dealt with sulky teenagers before.”

“I was a lot more than just ‘sulky’...” Mike winced. He’d been a jerk with a capital ‘J’ before he’d gone to college and gotten knocked off his pedestal. It was a miracle his parents had been able to put up with him for an entire year, honestly. “Be glad we met after I got my head on straight. It was for the best for both of us.” Puppet’s mask twisted into a frown, but Mike was determined for that to be the end of the topic, and moved the clothing box to get at the yearbooks beneath it.

“...huh?” Mike paused in the middle of opening the last box in the stack, and closed the flaps again to tilt it back, and get a better look at what had caught his attention. Puppet quickly perked up as the young man shifted the box across the floor, and off of a mysterious, rectangular shape still half-buried by all the clutter.

“Oh, cool! A secret door!” Puppet grabbed another stack of boxes and tried to push it off the shape, while Mike scratched his head in confusion.

“I...don’t remember this.” The human frowned, even as he helped Puppet to move the stack that weighed more than him. “I wonder if Mom or Dad knew about this?” He frowned as he cleared the last of the boxes off of what was now obviously some kind of old trapdoor. “Kind of seems like they tried to bury it.”

“Maybe it leads to a secret tunnel!” Puppet suggested eagerly. “Just like in that cartoon with the dog Pippa likes!” He started to bounce on his heels, and started to reach for the seam in the floor. “Let’s open it and see where it goes!”

“Whoa, whoa, whoa! Slow down, Puppet!” Mike snatched the little animatronic up under one arm, and stepped back before he could get his striped fingers into the crack. “We can’t just open it!” He argued. “We have no idea what might be down there - there could be rats, or spiders, or-”

THUNK.

“......” Both Mike and Puppet froze at the sound, and looked down at the trapdoor. “.....that’s a big rat.” Puppet whispered. Mike slowly - quietly - stepped back from the trapdoor, and the sound came again, only louder. He dropped Puppet back to his feet, and the little animatronic quickly hid behind the human, and dug his striped fingers into Mike’s red jacket as they both nervously watched the trapdoor.

THUNK. THUNK.

Something pounded on the trapdoor from below - something big - and a small puff of dust was kicked up from the space. Mike looked around frantically for something he could use as a weapon, and snatched up a baseball bat from another pile of junk. Luis hadn’t used it since his high school days. Surely, he wouldn’t mind?

THUNK THUNK THUNK.

The trapdoor began to rattle, and Mike swung the bat up over his shoulder as the rusty lock creaked and bent. Finally, the old metal snapped, and the trapdoor was thrown open by-....by Chica?

Mike’s brain ground to a halt as the animatronic chicken mascot from his workplace popped up through his floor, looking around with a curious hum at the cluttered basement before she laid optics on him, and broke out into a wide, toothy smile.

“Hi, Mr. Schmidt!! How’d you get here?”

“.......” The baseball bat fell out of Mike’s limp hands, and clattered to the floor. Puppet flinched at the loud sound, but Chica didn’t seem to register the human’s obvious shock, and came up the rest of the stairs and into the basement.

“Guys!” She shouted back down the stairs. “Mike’s here!” Behind her, Bonnie’s ears appeared before the rest of him, and Foxy’s hook scratched at the edge of the trapdoor hole as he hauled himself up out of the tunnel that yawned beneath the basement floor. Mike sucked in a breath through his teeth as the pirate fox - and other figures that, in no way, should have ever been in his house - rose up from beneath the floor, and stretched his limbs.

“Aaarrr, ‘tis about time!” Foxy grumbled, leaning back as if to stretch out a kink in his spine. “We’ve been walkin’ fer hours! I thought we’d be ‘alfway t’ Tortuga by now!”

“We were only down there for twenty minutes, at best.” Bonnie argued as he climbed out. “Your internal clock must be broken!”

“Jus’ like th’ rest o’ me, ey?” Foxy turned an irritable glare upon the rabbit, but his expression immediately softened when he noticed the audience Bonnie had not. “Oh! Mike! How ye’ be, lad? Ain’t seen ye’ since Wednesday eve’!” Puppet looked up at the human he hid behind with wide eyes, and Mike found the presence of mind to lower his hands from their raised position.

“....you’re in my house.” He said eloquently. Bonnie and Foxy both tipped their ears forward, and looked around the basement.

“This be your house?” Foxy flipped up his eyepatch for a better look. “It be….uh….cozy?” Bonnie shook his head and smacked the fox on the arm.

“This isn’t the whole place, buckethead.” He scoffed. “There’s an upstairs, see?” He pointed to the basement stairs, and Mike looked over just in time to see Chica’s tailfeathers disappearing at the top. His heart skipped a beat or two.“This is just a basement!” The rabbit hopped over a box on the floor, and headed up the stairs himself. “Chica, wait for me!”

“I knew that!” Foxy huffed back with a lash of his tail. The basement started to feel a little small, and Mike pulled another breath in through his teeth. Oh, god. He’d had nightmares just like this, back when he’d first started on the night shift...except he wasn’t sleeping now. He was awake, and this was real-

“I, ah, don’t suppose I could get a hand?” Mike froze, and slowly looked back down at the trapdoor to see Freddy himself seemingly wedged in the stairway opening. Behind him, he could also see the glow from Sam’s LED hat band, somewhere back within the tunnel. “I’m not as slim as the rest of you, you know!” The bear admitted.

“Aye, let’s get’che out o’ there.” Foxy reached out with his good hand to grab Freddy’s and started to pull, with Sam - presumably - pushing from behind. After a few more seconds of staring, Puppet edged out from behind Mike to help. Mike, however, remained frozen in place, and a few shades paler than he probably should have been as he tried to comprehend how one of his darkest nightmares was becoming reality right before his eyes-

“Oh, wow!” Chica’s voice echoed from somewhere upstairs - somewhere on the second floor. “It looks like Parts & Services up here, only better lit! Bonnie, you have to come see this!”

“That’s my-! Oh no.” Mike’s eyes popped wide, and he finally broke out of his frozen stupor to bolt for the stairs, leaving Puppet, Foxy, and Sam alone to try and pry the pizzeria star out through the too-small trapdoor in the floor. “That’s my room! Don’t touch anything!”

He passed Bonnie in the living room, seemingly enamoured by the many framed photos hung up behind the couch, and nearly tripped running up the stairs before he caught himself on the banister. It wasn’t until he’d made it up to the landing and thrown open his bedroom door that Mike realized that he...had no real plan for confronting the animatronic inside. He froze again in the doorway, panting, and struggling for words as Chica ‘ooh’ed and ‘ahh’ed over the variety of drawings and unfinished projects strewn about his desk.

“Whoa!!!” Chica picked up a pipe-and-wire hand model that he’d given up on three months ago, and cradled it in her hands with the reverence of a child holding a coveted toy for the first time. “This is just like our endoskeletons! Mr. Schmidt, I didn’t know you could build things!”

“I-. Uh. Um.” The unexpected praise made it even harder for Mike to find his words, and he stumbled for an embarrassingly long time before he heard the creaking of the stairs, and felt a towering presence at his back.

“Oh, neat!” Bonnie pushed his way into the room, causing Mike to stumble forward, as well, and gleefully batted at the punching bag still hanging from the ceiling next to his bed. “Heheh, what’s this thing? Does it make noise?”

“No, it-. It doesn’t make noise.” Mike reached out a hand to stop the bag from swinging, and hoped the feeling of the synthetic leather against his hand would help snap him back to reality. It didn’t do much. “It’s for hitting.”

“Oh.” Bonnie seemed to lose interest at this answer, and turned to face Chica, who had moved on to looking at the posters and pictures hanging on the wall. “Oh!” Bonnie zeroed in on one in particular, and Mike winced internally. “Who’s this kid? I haven’t seen them at the pizzeria before.”

“Yeah, you have. That’s, uh.” Mike found himself wishing he’d never framed that dumb childhood photo. “That’s me.”

“That’s you?!” Bonnie and Chica both crowded around the frame, now, and Mike prayed to any deity listening that his floor would hold under them. “Aww! You used to be so cute!”

“Bonnie!” Chica gasped, and tweaked one of the rabbit’s ears. “That’s so rude! He’s still cute!”

“......” Mike pressed both hands over his face, and leaned back until he was sitting on his bed as the two animatronics began to squabble.

Maybe, if he just sat here for long enough, his brain would get tired of this nightmare, and he’d wake up?

#fnaf #fnaf fanfic #mun's writing #Mike Schmidt #Freddy #Chica #Bonnie #Foxy #Puppet #Safety Officer Sam

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