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msafterhours · 2 months

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No Promises

Reader POV x Joo Kyulkyung (Zhou Jieqiong)

~2.7k words

“We were meant to be together sounded so much sweeter when it felt like we had forever.”

There's something beautiful about intentionally making the wrong decision. Like, sure, it sounds crazy to step into the line of fire and say yeah, come on universe; take your best shot, but it’s also kinda fun, no? Granted, soaring down the streets of Seoul with the wind whipping against your jacket and the rain pouring past your helmet is maybe a bit much, but you left any concerns you might have had in the dust long before the sun set. Besides, this is far from the first time you’ve acted with the type of reckless abandon reserved for those who have yet to live long enough to have something to lose.

That calculus changes when you re-enter Seoul: speed limits shift from suggestions to mandates. After a third red in a row rips an extended groan from your chest, you spend the moment inspecting the streets you’ve traversed a thousand times. You’re met by the familiar sight of Gangnam-gu’s glimmering lights, gleaming skyscrapers, and garish nightclubs each casting their own unique reflection onto the shimmering street below. On most nights, you’re able to let the mess of colors fade into the background, but tonight, it feels uncharacteristically gray. Even then, it’s all so loud, from the rainfall on the swarms of umbrellas to the downcast expressions of the faceless crowd—hell, even the red light you’ve been keeping an eye on seems washed out.

Right as you’re wondering if you’ve been transported back in time and cast in a 1940s sitcom, a sudden flash of color at the far edge of vision completely derails your train of thought. You turn and are met by a sight pulled straight from a modern drama: a student close to your own age wearing a soaked banana yellow top and skirt clinging to her legs as she hides under her highlighter pink backpack like it’s some shoddy umbrella. It’s … not a pretty sight.

Or at least it wouldn't be, if not for the rest of her. Her long, dark hair cascades down past her shoulders and clings to her face, obscuring your view of her finer features, yet every aspect of her from her posture to the placement of her steps projects a practiced poise that monopolizes your attention. Everyone else fades from your vision as the light turns green and she turns the crosswalk into her personal runway … though the effect is kinda ruined by the urgency with which she scurries through the rain.

A feeling from deep within urges you to act—that and the person behind you honking their horn since you’ve spent the four seconds since the light turned green frozen in place. You release the brake, accelerate forward, and veer your motorcycle to the side where you know she's heading. With a quick step onto the soaked pavement and a tug on the strap of your helmet, you greet the rain with the widest of smiles, then feel it shift into a smirk as you call out, “Ouch, aren’t you a sad sight to behold. Need some help with that?”

She turns and stares, mouth agape, as she processes the sight of you. Your first glimpse of her leaves you stuck mirroring her expression, mouth agape in disbelief because she's gorgeous, with a sharp jawline that contrasts perfectly against her soft skin. It’s a face sculpted to show on billboards … and one whose disbelief shifts into a smirk as she remains unaffected by your reaction. Your eyes travel upwards past those invitingly soft lips, along the bridge of her nose, all the way up and meeting her own, where you’re all too tempted to lose yourself in them. Eventually, she breaks the silence and asks, “What. The. Fuck. Are you doing? Are you trying to die?”

“Of course not, don’t you listen? I already told you, I’m trying to help,” you say back, smile widening as her skepticism refuses to fade whatsoever. “I just figured that while we’re both out in the rain, only one of us wants to be, yeah? I'd be doing something wrong if I didn't at least offer to get you there faster, so I ask again: do you want my help or not?”

As you offer her your helmet, you see the distrust finally start thawing, just enough for her to crack a smile of her own. “This is insane—you’re insane. But you also seem fun, so why not?”

You hand her the helmet and exchange names, and as the girl you'll come to know as Kyulkyung repeats yours back to you, you watch as her eyebrows relax and the distrust starts leaving her eyes. As you go through a brief crash course—how to wear a helmet, where to sit, etc.—her posture slips too, hints of comfort and fatigue settling in as her shoulders slump. Yet through it all, her eyes remain locked on yours, causing an unexpected pang in your chest as you turn to climb onto the bike. It fades slightly when you turn back to her, offer your hand, and ask, “Okay, you ready?”

Even as Kyulkyung shivers and shakes like a leaf in the wind, the fire in her eyes burns bright as she dismisses your hand and climbs atop the bike with ease. Her arms wrap around you, sending a shock of heat through your system and your heart rate into the stratosphere as she asks, “Do you happen to know where the PLEDIS building is?”

“Funnily enough, I do,” you tell her, smirking with sinister intent as inspiration strikes. “What’re you, a trainee or something?”

“No …” Kyulkyung murmurs, averting her eyes as she continues, “I just have a really good reason to want to be there before 11:00.”

“Sure. Yeah. Totally,” you say. Her eyebrows raise; yours respond in kind. Her bottom lip catches between her teeth. You continue. “You, the ‘School of Performing Arts’ student—in said uniform—strutting around Gangnam of all places. You’re gonna try and convince me you’re not a trainee, just that you happen to have a ‘really good reason’ to be at an agency before a very specific time of night.”

“Are you trying to say something?”

“Two things actually: you’re full of shit and you’re out past curfew.”

“You sound pretty sure of that.”

“Tell me I’m wrong.”

“Why would it even matter?”

“Because I like being right, and you apparently hate being wrong. Aside from that, if I need to get you back before curfew, we’re going to have to book it, run a few red lights, pray that we don’t get pulled over—”

“Alright, enough,” Kyulkyung interjects, eyes rolling with a gymnast’s grace. “You’re not wrong, but let’s just focus on getting me back in one piece, alright? I’m pretty sure they care more about me being alive than on time.”

“We’re not going anywhere until you say it,” you insist. “Go ahead, tell me I’m right.”

“You’re actually serious?” she mutters in disbelief. You opt to let the silence act as your confirmation.

“Fine. You’re right: I’m a trainee. Happy?” Kyulkyung grumbles, grimacing as a grin overtakes your expression. “What gave it away?”

“I dunno, you kinda just seem ‘that kind of pretty’,” you say with a shrug. “Something about the way you walk too … honestly, nothing about you comes off as normal.”

“Bit rich for you of all people to say that, don’t you think? I wouldn’t exactly call this a ‘normal’ way to spend a Friday night.”

“I wouldn't either,” you admit, smiling wide as you respond. “But are you—the trainee—really gonna be the one to lecture me about running headfirst towards an enticing risk?”

“No, I'm not,” Kyulkyung says, her grip on your ribs tightening. “Though I might not be so kind if you keep me out in this rain any longer.”

“Alright, alright, fine,” you wheeze out, struggling to catch your breath as you paint on your most dramatic pout. “You’re no fun … but you are kinda cute, so I guess I can cave just this once.”

“Good,” she replies, smiling in smug satisfaction. “Now, let’s get going! I’m cold.”

“As you wish, princess,” you say, revving the engine and speeding off before she gets the chance to respond.

You immediately lose any semblance of newfound confidence as the unfiltered brunt of the elements threatens to overwhelm you on your first time riding without a helmet. First, it’s the scent of rain. Then, it’s the rain pummeling your brow. Finally, it’s the noise. Your motorcycle roars and the cars passing you scream off into the night as they pass—it’s all just so fucking loud and every single sensation threatens to pull your focus away from the road. Yet even amongst the brutal weather of a stormy night, Kyulkyung’s thoughts resonate through your mind clear as day. You feel her heartbeat race as you accelerate out of a turn, feel her cling to you tighter at every hint of yellow in the stoplights above. Without fail, she wordlessly pleads for you to choose caution, and, without fail, you do whatever she asks.

At one such intersection, you ask a question of your own: you let go of the handlebar and place your hand atop hers. Kyulkyung's response is just as silent, but she needs no words to tell you yes as she intertwines her fingers with yours as you wait together. Even through the drenched material of your glove, the heat of her touch wards off the cold, sending a surge of warmth through your shivering body as you both stare ahead into the awaiting darkness. You revel in the sensation as long as possible, right up until the light turns to green and you’re forced to pull away.

As she embraces you once more and you accelerate forward, a realization cuts through the fog and arrives at the forefront of your mind: you just met this girl and you already know you’re never going to be able to say no to her. And that’s … okay?

Yes. There’s something about her that takes the tension out of the knots in your shoulders, makes you breathe just that bit easier—at least when she’s allowing you to do so. It’s all too easy to ease into her embrace, all too tempting to take your time weaving your way through the tangled web of your home suburb’s streets. The thought proves far too tempting and you choose to do so, desperate to preserve the sanctity of these seconds spent together.

Unfortunately, the night only lasts so long and the road only goes so far, so you’re soon met by the familiar sight of your destination. You force yourself to ease off the gas, allowing your momentum to carry you forward until you come to a stop across the street from the building in question. With a sigh and a swing of your leg, you step off the motorcycle and turn to face her as you offer her your hand. This time, Kyulkyung accepts, taking it and joining you on the sidewalk. After loosening the chin strap, you gently pull the helmet off her head, granting you a glimpse of her parted lips before revealing the excitement and expectation in her wide eyes.

“So, what’d you think? Kinda fun, right?” you ask, allowing your eyebrows to lift in expectation as you await her response.

“Maaaaayyyyyyyyyyyyyyybbbbbeeee,” she says, drawing out that single syllable just long enough for smirks to overtake both your expressions.

“You know what? I’ll take it. And you—” you say, turning away for a moment as you unlock one of the side compartments of your bike and pull something out. “—should take this.”

Kyulkyung lets out the slightest squeak of surprise as she catches the umbrella you toss her, though the surprise is quickly replaced by the disdain and disbelief overtaking her expression. “Wait, you’re kidding. You have to be. You had this the whole fucking time?”

“Yep!”

“And you still felt the need to convince me to risk my life on that screaming metal death trap?”

“I thought it’d be a valuable experience,” you say, shrugging once more. “You can keep the umbrella by the way; it’s all yours.”

Kyulkyung’s sigh of resignation is all that keeps the street from falling into silence as you stand there, waiting for her to voice her thoughts. Eventually, she does so. “Give me your phone.”

“So greedy, honestly. I just gave you a ride and my umbrella, yet you’re still asking for more?” you scoff. Still though, you do as she asks, pulling it out of your pocket and unlocking it before handing it to her.

“It’s one of my toxic traits,” she replies as she taps away at the screen. “Everyone else seems to have gotten used to it, so I’m sure you’ll be fine, eventually.”

“Oh?” you ask, eyebrow arching as she piques your curiosity. “You hoping I’ll stick around?”

“No, I was just texting myself from your phone for the hell of it,” she says, sarcasm soaking her words like the rain-soaked streets as she finishes typing. “It totally wasn’t because I was gonna ask if I could get you coffee or something, as thanks for getting me home safe.”

Kyulkyung finally looks away from the screen, meeting your gaze with an infectious smile as she offers you your phone. “That’s unfortunate. I really like the thought of someone else paying for my drink.”

“Yeah?” she asks. A pause. Then, “Maybe we’ll just have to make it happen.”

“Maybe we will,” you agree. With that, you turn and remount your motorcycle. Before you go, you offer her one last smile as you bid her farewell. “I need to get back, but I hope you have a good night and good luck with—” you gesture wildly at the beautiful mess standing in front of you “—explaining everything I guess.”

“Thaaanks,” Kyulkyung grumbles, pouting as she shudders at the thought and ripping a warm laugh out from deep within your chest. As it echoes against the buildings’ frigid walls, her hints of a smile bloom into her own peals of laughter that harmonize with your own as they resonate as one.

“I hope you have a good night too,” she says softly after a short while. “Try not to die on the way home, alright?”

“No promises.”

Kyulkyung’s eyes roll once more, but there’s genuine gratitude in the nod she gives before turning away. As she disappears into the building’s darkened halls and vanishes from your sight, a chill courses through your veins, leaving you shivering as you adjust your helmet and take off down the road.

Barely a minute passes before you reach your apartment complex and the pale brick and light blue tones that define its color palette. After locking up your bike, you hike upstairs, step up to your door, turn the latch, and reveal … the silent darkness within. Empty, just like always. Muscle memory guides your hand to the switch, momentarily blinding you as the cool whites wash away the darkness to reveal the relaxing hues of your home.

While the sight normally instills a sense of calmness, it all seems to blur as the chill refuses to leave your body, rendering you seasick as your head swims. It remains even as you peel away your gloves and free yourself from the soaked leather of your jacket, leaving you shivering even as you turn on the shower and pray for it to heat quickly. As you wait, you decide to check your phone and see what message Kyulkyung sent herself.

You can’t help but scoff at the assumption, but it quickly shifts into a smile as you compose your response.

You (10:59 PM): When you read this, let me know if you got home safe.

I don’t want to put the time into making coffee plans if you’re not gonna show up

You (11:08 PM): You’re insufferable

You (11:08 PM): How’d everything go? Were you able to sneak back in?

Kyulkyung (11:09 PM): Oh, easily

You (11:09 PM): Not your first time pushing curfew?

Kyulkyung (11:09 PM): Definitely not

Kyulkyung (11:10 PM): And definitely not the last either

You (11:10 PM): Can't say I'm surprised lol

You (11:11 PM): I hope you enjoy the rest of your weekend, even if the most interesting part has already happened

Kyulkyung (11:11 PM): Lol thanks, try not to get into too much trouble while I'm not there to supervise

You (11:12 PM): No promises

(My sincerest gratitude to @capslocked as always for their contributions towards bettering this fic. This was a draft I started a while ago that I didn't foresee myself finishing, but as I was editing it, I had the idea of posting little vignettes from the plot that I had written instead of making it a singular narrative. The plot I had in mind originally spanned something like 4 years, so just writing the highlights seems like a better fit (if there's interest for this story at all, I know it's an idol that's been away from the industry for a bit). Regardless, thank you so much for spending your time reading my work and I hope you enjoyed it!)

#kpop fanfic #kpop fanfiction #idol x reader #idol x male reader #kyulkyung #zhou jieqiong #ioi #pristin

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augustinewrites · 2 years

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in the years bakugou katsuki’s friends have known him, they have learned that despite his loud and brash personality, he was a notoriously private person. he seldom posted on social media, rarely did interviews or showed up on talk shows. the media still ate him up, his evasiveness about his life outside of hero work only leaving people wondering just what he was hiding.

“are you sure this is the place, denks?”

he kept his private life hidden so well under wraps that he didn’t even tell his bestest friends in the whole wide world that he’d moved apartments. they’d found out by accident.

kaminari checks his phone again. “yeah! this place is on shinsou’s patrol route. i don’t think bakugou knows, but shin and i have seen him walk in here three times this week!”

simply entering a building on its own wouldn’t be enough to rouse suspicion. the first time, shinsou had reported that he’d seen bakugou wearing his uniform trailing behind a woman in a suit - someone from legal or pr, he assumed - and kaminari had thought it was for a witness interview and brushed it off.

the second time had been a little more unusual. it’d been bakugou on his own, dressed casually with his cap tipped low and his backpack slung over his shoulder. kaminari hadn’t had much time to think about that one because he’d been helping an old lady cross the street, so he’d just assumed he was visiting a friend or something.

the third time had been downright suspicious, because he’d seen bakugou dressed casually and carrying two bags of groceries in his arms. this occurrence had been downright suspicious, and had prompted kaminari to make a groupchat to share his findings.

kirishima glances around the busy street, humming. though it’s one of the wealthier districts in musutafu, the street is quiet, sleepy, dotted with small shops and street vendors. the closest agency is three blocks away, and it isn’t even bakugou’s. “it’s kinda far from our agency, don’t you think? it’s way off our patrol area, and his job is basically his life. why would he live here?”

“that’s what we’re here to find out,” kaminari shrugs, pocketing his phone. there’s a doorman stationed outside the building, sending the pair a polite grin as he holds the door open. “swanky place though, don’t you think? maybe i should get myself a nike deal too! then i can finally get out of shin’s place.”

___

katsuki’s just gotten out of the shower, stirring idly at the pot on the stove when he hears a knock at his front door. he flicks the heat down a notch before heading for the door to peek through the peephole.

that’s when pro-hero dynamight, number two on the hero billboards, and a role model for children everywhere, leans back and mutters, “fuck.”

another knock, a little more insistent this time. “hey, bakugou? you home? denks, if this isn’t his place this is gonna be real awkward.”

“fuck. fuck,” he glances over his shoulder at the bedroom, then back at the door. this wasn’t how everyone was supposed to find out. especially not ei and denki of all people, whose mouths were bigger than their combined iq.

he lets the analytic hero side of his brain assesses the situation first. the obvious answer is that he could just…not open the door. it’s a good, quick solution in the short term, but will still come back to bite him in the ass later. when it comes to his personal life, no wall (or door, in this case) could withstand the nosiness of his friends.

his other option was to, well, open the door. just a crack, of course. feeding the vultures a half-truth would placate them for the time being, so he could retreat and come back with a better plan.

“hey! bakugou!” kaminari cheers when he begrudgingly opens the door. “so you do live here!”

“last time i checked, yeah,” he huffs, staying planted firmly in the doorway. he treats this like he would any interview, shutting down any unwanted questions with blunt, half-answers. it’s usually enough to deter most reporters, but his friends have learned to shrug off his hostility simply because they lack any self-preservation skills.

“can we come in?” kirishima asks hopefully. “we wanna see your new place!”

“no.”

he rolls his eyes at their identical pouts. “why not?”

“because i can’t trust you both near things that can stain.” he gestures to the hall. “now can you please get out of here so i don’t burn dinner?”

“ugh, fine,” kaminari relents with a louder than necessary groan, which katsuki immediately finds suspicious, especially when the blond places a hand on his shoulder. “i gotta admit, this is a nice place, man, you did good. i’m proud of you.”

katsuki feels it a second too late– the light tingling that often precedes–

he curses through clenched teeth as kaminari shocks him with a voltage just shy of a taser, body folding as it fights the current. his so-called friends take the opportunity to push past him and into his living room.

“awe, look!” that electric dipshit coos, picking up a picture frame. “It’s a picture of all of us at graduation!”

“and look at this one! this one is of him and–” kirishima’s expression shifts into genuine surprise. “this is the head of our legal department…and you’re kissing her! on the mouth!”

of course it’s then that the bedroom door opens, three heads turning to see you walking out, toweling off your wet hair. “katsuki?”

the pro, still crumpled in the doorway, looks away as his friends do a double take, then fix him with wide eyed stares.

“katsuki!” you gasp, rushing to his side. “oh my god, are you okay?”

“‘m fine,” he coughs, letting you help him to his feet. “aside from the two ass clowns in our living room.”

“hey!”

“oh, ignore him,” you simper, pressing yourself into his side. “he loves you guys, but right now…i think he’d prefer to love you from afar. at least until our housewarming party!”

“housewarming party?!”

#bakugo katuski x reader #bakugou katuski x reader #bakugou x reader #bnha x reader #bnha drabble

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triple-7-heaven · 1 year

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ONCE AGAIN

thank you for waiting for me, readers. i do hope you enjoy it ♡ my first aespa fic, awesome! i've been going through it, thus the lack of content, but things are looking up for me. take care of yourselves, until next time :-) pairing: male reader x winter; words: 6.5k ; categories: aespa, winter, reader insert, smut, slightly storyline heavy

Back in high school, there was a girl who shone above the rest, but wasn’t necessarily popular. A girl who was a member of the math club, the photography club, and the dance team, whose evenings were filled with activities, who made many friends, but wasn’t fawned over by the student body in the way the true popular kids were.

One evening, you were at school pretty late, tutoring in the library. You were so engrossed in your work that you didn’t notice the time passing, until the janitor came in and told you he’d be needing to clean the library up, so you’d better scram. Backpack full of books, you rushed out of the library, and quickly made your way through the dark hallway. You turned the corner and nearly collided with a small girl, who grabbed onto your arm to steady herself.

“I-I’m so sorry,” you said, and the girl looked up at you. Oh, perfect… “Minjeong, shit, I’m sorry…”

“Hosang, what are you doing here so late?” Minjeong asked.

“Uh, tutoring… You know my name?” you asked incredulously. She smoothed out your sleeve, folded the collar of your shirt down, and tucked her hair behind her ear.

“You know mine, too,” she quipped and giggled before running to catch up with her dance team friends, leaving you without room to explain yourself. To explain that no, I promise it isn’t weird, everyone knows your name, Minjeong, I’m not a crazy stalker, and I’m not here to spy on you through the gym windows while you dance. But you never got to explain yourself. To be fair, you did admire her from a distance. In the halls, at lunch, you wouldn’t deny that you looked at her with heart-shaped eyes. As pretty as you thought she was, you didn’t ever talk to her, something you would eventually regret.

Minjeong dropped out, and you didn’t run into her again. After graduation, you headed off to Seoul to learn how to fly, and soon, you realized someone else had come, too. Billboards, advertisements, you name it. For a solid month, wherever you looked, you saw her.

The same Kim Minjeong who you nearly sacked in the hallway that night, who, instead of yelling or being upset, straightened your clothes and wished you a good night; who knew your name when you were nobody. She was Winter, now, styled with gorgeous long, blonde hair, imposed over ethereal backgrounds and colors. You had to give it to whatever company she was running with, they made that old crush of yours flare right back up again with the way they marketed that girl. Financially stable enough under an air charter company flying small private jets, you decided you’d buy a set of the group’s albums when they debuted. Sitting on the floor of your apartment, pulling the photocards and posters out of those albums, you felt the full force of the regret from your school days: if you’d only talked to her in high school, you could have her number in your phone right this minute… But you were resigned now to being a fan, and a strongly biased one. That’s all you could be.

Charter piloting has benefits. Loads, surely. You’re essentially a glorified taxi driver, charging rich business people and celebrities $20k for a one hour flight from Incheon to Jeju. It’s morally wrong to allow a sucker to keep his money, right? As good as the pay, benefits, and overall experience are, the clientele… Well. Nothing you hate more than a stuck-up diva, and it’s even worse when you’re trapped in a flying metal tube with them. But you make do; the idol sightings you get on the job make all the asshole corporates worth it. From old school stars your parents might know, to drama actors and actresses, to the newest generation of idols, you welcomed a ton of each aboard, more than you could ever remember if you didn’t write it down. Unforgettable guests come along now and then; a trio of Twice members one weekend, some big-name producers behind insurmountably popular groups for a surfing trip, and the casts of award-winning shows on celebratory benders. Unforgettable loses its meaning when your secretary hands you today’s clipboard.

“This is mine? Thought it was… Uh…” you trail off and your eyes widen. The secretary laughs behind the desk.

“I knew it! You’re her fan, right? You always talk about Aespa. And I know you have her photocard in your wallet,” she winks at you as your face fills with an embarrassingly deep blush.

“It’s not just that, Jihye. I knew her in high school,” you say hesitantly.

“Oh my God, it’s like a reunion!” the girl squeals. “Wait, were you cool in high school?” she laughs.

“Uh… I don’t-”

“Yup, I knew it,” she says matter-of-factly. “Let me guess, the lame, nerdy guy had a crush on the cool-chick future idol?”

“No! Well, I don’t know,” you say. Your mind is too busy racing to think properly. The young secretary giggles to herself as you walk to the hangar. Preflight routines are difficult to complete when your mind’s racing faster than a Blackbird. Would she recognize you? Should you say something? Nah… You’re kicking tires pretending to be busy and the door opens. The trail end of a conversation…

“-ng is going to be your pilot. He’s a great aviator and an even better tour guide, so I’m sure he’ll be happy to show you around the island,” Jihye says. That damn secretary.

“Hosang? I feel like I’ve known someone with- oh, hi,” Minjeong stops abruptly when Jihye walks her around the aircraft to meet you. Long, wavy, dark hair, with bangs curled and blown out to mathematical perfection. Fair, unlined skin of a small and cute face. A simple and comfortable black sweater, a modest manicure, and plain, natural eye makeup. You bow shyly and wave.

“All good to go?” Jihye asks with the most annoying smile in the world.

“Yep,” you answer. Jihye departs and you welcome Minjeong to get comfortable while you finish up. A strange look occupies those perfect features as you give her a quick safety brief, then turn to enter the cockpit. Before the door closes behind you, “if you need anything, let me know.”

Why are you cold with her? Why are you nervous? You hardly smiled at her or asked what she was traveling for… Pure white clouds roll calmly underneath you. You resolve to be nice to her, even if she doesn’t recognize you, because let’s be real, it’s not her fault for not recognizing you. She meets tons of people. You’re just some not-cool kid from high school who had a crush on the cool-chick future idol. A pilot report over the radio snaps you out of it as you enter Jeju International’s airspace. Gusting winds and vertical movement, it’ll be a bumpy ride down. You reach for the intercom.

“Hey Minjeong, forgive me if I startled you. Looking at some rough air on the way down, but we’re about 20 minutes out. I’d sit down and belt in if you aren’t already, okay? Call if there’s any issues, and think of what you’d like for dinner.” You toggle off the intercom and wonder where the hell that came from. What, Jihye said you’d be happy to show Minjeong around the island, right? So you’ll show her. Your inner autopilot (funny…) takes over and you idly nudge the yoke for your approach phases. Wheels on the ground, hangar door shut, you stand and exit the cockpit. Minjeong looks up at you sleepily, and you sit across from her on one of the bench-style seats.

“So… dinner ideas?” you ask. Minjeong stands up and points at you groggily, shuffling towards you until her finger pokes the center of your chest.

“You. You went to my school, didn’t you?” she says, tiredness dripping from her voice. You nod and meet her eyes. “How come you didn’t say anything?”

“I didn’t think you’d recognize me…” you say softly, honestly. She moves her hand to your shoulder.

“Well you’re bigger, yeah, but… I recognize you. Bigger and taller. Same face,” she says. The smile can’t be kept off your face, unfortunately, and Minjeong smiles too.

“You sound really tired. Let’s get going,” you say. After a quick post-flight and signing off with the hangar staff, you face her and say: “Gonna change really quick, then we’ll head to dinner.” You slip into the FBO restroom and drop your duffel, then slip out of your annoyingly stiff white uniform shirt. You stare at yourself in the mirror for a moment, then pull on a plain black t-shirt before swapping your slacks for black jeans. One careful ruffle of the hair later, and you’re leaving the restroom to meet Minjeong in the hallway.

“Alright, ready.” You carry Minjeong’s luggage and she trails behind you, much like a puppy, on the way to the parking lot. The modest rent car’s parked right where the staff told you, so you open the door for Minjeong and she shoots you a confused smirk. You smile back, and hop into the driver’s seat.

“So what’s the occasion? Family in Jeju?” you ask.

“Honestly, I… When I get time off, I run a secret travel blog… So I take vacations, and take pictures and stuff,” she says quietly. “I dunno, it’s kind of silly.”

“How come it’s silly? Sounds fun to me. We’ll have to go to some really cool places so you can write a good post, huh?” you reply. “Now, dinner?”

“Mm. I’m too tired to think,” she mumbles. Great, now the pressure’s on you to pick something perfect…

“How about Black Pork Street? Could make for some good photos, and it’s really as good as people say it is,” you say and put the car in gear.

“Sounds good…” she trails off. Really, really sleepy. But she makes an effort to talk to you. She makes an effort to keep the focus off of herself, and more on you; she asks you how graduation was, since she didn’t go, and you really had to reach deep into your memory for that one. She asks you about flying, about why you chose it, about your life in Seoul, and about how you never ran into each other in the city. You hold yourself back from saying ‘well no, Minjeong, we haven’t run into each other in a city of 10 million people, with about 9,999,999 of those people being more interesting than me.’ When you arrive, Minjeong is lively and excited, telling you about her camera and asking what’s next after dinner. You kick yourself when you start wishing for a specific sort of dessert. Quit being dirty-minded, idiot…

“Let’s go! I’m hungry,” Minjeong says, dragging you out of your thoughts. She looks perfect taking photos on the street, pointing her camera at the sky, at signs, storefronts, plants, street cats. The way her eyes light up when she takes a good photo, runs over to show you, insists that you take a few of her; she’s not much different than she was back then, huh? A person with a good heart. A person whose heart you’d like to learn.

“Is it our honeymoon? First date? Must be a first date, you look nervous,” the dorky waiter says, nodding to you. Minjeong laughs, and you blush; the difference between you.

“Uh… J-just high school friends,” you manage to say. Minjeong jots notes and snaps photos throughout the meal, and as you’re serving up some pork belly for her, she takes a few photos.

“C’mon, make it look nice,” she whines.

“You’re serious about this, huh?” you laugh.

“It’s… It’s my baby. My project. My travel blog is like… I dunno, it’s a way for me to be creative, but not be Winter. It’s a way to just be Minjeong,” she slowly explains. “To have a space that’s all my own. Where I can talk about stuff I like, and not worry about press, or netizens, or fans, or anti-fans.”

“I get it. A space of your own. I should call you Minjeong then, right?” you say, nodding your head a bit too fast and a bit too much. She smiles and nods. But she nods like a regular person, not like you.

Dinner passes without incident. If we can ignore the waiter thing. Do you look like a couple or something? Maybe you do compliment each other. Maybe you seem like high school sweethearts. Maybe you could be.

“Hosang?” she says as she leans forward. “You in there? Let’s go to the hotel!” You snap out of it for the second time and hop up to lead the way to the rent car. The paperwork Jihye gave you had most of the information listed for Minjeong’s trip, and the hotel she’d be staying in was, of course, the Lotte City Hotel. No less grandeur for the princess. The GPS gets you there quickly, and you pull up to the front doors, leaving the car on as you grab Minjeong’s suitcase. Just as you’re rounding the front of the car and waving goodnight, she makes a confused face.

“Wait, you’re leaving?” she whines. Minjeong the kid…

“Oh, uh, yeah. I was gonna head to the motel near the airport, that’s where my room is. Did you need something else?” you say.

God, why do I sound like a customer service bot? ‘Did you need something else?’ Seriously?

“I… I dunno, I guess I just wanted someone to hang out with,” she replies.

Oh. To hang out?

“Oh, of course, Minjeong. Let me park, I’ll meet you,” you say. And she’s waiting for you in the same spot once you return to the front door; she didn’t even go inside. Her long, dark hair’s ruffled by the wind. Cute.

NO. Not cute. Not cute or pretty or hot. She’s my client, my customer, my responsibility; not my crush, my girlfriend, or my next body. Look at the ground or something, for the love of God, Hosang.

But looking at the ground can’t keep her legs from your peripheral view. She walks through the sliding doors and you follow behind with her suitcase in your hand, and your duffel on your shoulder. Long, slender, perfect legs, and you’re looking right at them. You snap your gaze to the windows and pretend to be looking at the skyline through the windows while Minjeong checks in. After a moment, she turns to you and smiles.

“Do you have a swimsuit?” she asks. You shake your head. “There’s shops on the bottom floors, go and find one, okay? Meet me on the sixth floor. There’s a pool! The pictures are gonna be perfect!”

She shoves a room key into your hand and takes the bags from you. You’re left in the lobby, dumbfounded, wondering how you should navigate this. A bellhop whistles at you.

“First night with her? Sheesh,” the young man says. “Score!”

“Weird situation, man. Weird as hell,” you trail off as you walk away, still shaking your head, more so to yourself now. Okay, shops. Swimsuit. You begin to feel insecurity nagging at you. You’re lean, sure, but not perfect. Not as perfect as… Well, nevermind. Quickly, you make your way through the shops, and find a pair of rather plain, mid-length black trunks at a duty free shop, changing into them in the restroom and leaving your shirt on. The elevator ride lasts forever. And ever. And ever. Until the robotic voice announces,

Sixth floor.

The doors open and you walk quietly out to the open area of the pool. You see one figure in the water already. She’s facing the city, hugging the edge of the pool and gazing at the skyline. The water laps at her back, just below her shoulder blades, and the silky smooth skin of her back is laid out for you, with only thin bikini straps to cover it. Her arms and shoulders are small, toned, but soft. Fancams and jacket shoots could never do justice to the sculpted angel right in front of your face.

“How’s the temperature?” you say. She turns around. Her top is composed of white strings and back fabric; conservative, but form-fitting to her chest, that Goldilocks chest, the perfect balance of size and shape. Her collarbones are distinct, curved, beautiful. Hell, every curve you can see is perfect, from the angle of her jaw to the base of her neck to the gentle taper of her arms.

“It’s heated,” she giggles. “Come on!” Insecurity. Nagging. Loudly.

“Are you sure? I can just hang out and take pictures for you up here, it’s not-”

“Come onnn,” she pleads. You turn away from her and slowly drag your shirt off, then kick your shoes and socks off near where Minjeong left hers. The water is slightly warmer than room temperature, and a welcome change from the chilly air. You sit yourself down on a ledge in the pool, and Minjeong swims to your side, sitting right next to you. Not close enough to touch.

“See? Isn’t it nice up here?” she says.

“It is. Ever been to Jeju before?” you ask.

“Nope. I think it’s even nicer with a good tour guide.”

“Ah, come on. I’m not all that.”

“You’re…” she trails off and sighs. Her hair tickles your shoulder when she leans into you. “I wish I’d talked to you more back then.”

“Hmm? Don’t worry about it, that’s way past us,” you mumble.

“So… If I said I wanted to make up for lost time… What would you say?” she says and you feel her fingertips smoothly run over your leg under the water.

“I think I’d ask where that idea came from,” you say breathlessly. She moves her hand to your waist, arm around your front.

“I always liked you. I just didn’t think you liked me, you were always so quiet,” she says. Your hand, now, meets her waist, and your eyes meet hers.

“Is this okay? I mean… Can you do stuff like this? Now that you’re all famous and everything,” you say, struggling to form any words at all, overwhelmed by the electric sensations of skin on skin underwater. She cups your cheek with a wet hand and nods to the camera bag.

“Can I get some pictures for the blog? Before… Before I forget,” she finishes cautiously.

Before you forget, huh… Gonna make me take an impromptu bikini shoot of one of the most beautiful women ever. No big deal.

Minjeong disentangles from you; she tosses you a towel and you dry your hands, then power on the camera. Eyes fixed on the camera’s display screen, you start shooting. She moves through pose after pose, and you can feel yourself hardening. How could you not? A perfect, slim, pale Minjeong, body covered with water droplets, her skin shining in the flash of the camera.

“Would you check and see if those ones are any good?” she calls to you. You begin scrolling through the photos, and sure, they’re great. It would be hard to take a bad photo of her.

“Yeah, these are good,” you say.

“Let’s take a few more, then we can relax a bit,” she says. The camera display switches back to photo mode, and you look through; this time, your heart stops. The screen shows you that Minjeong has shed her top, and now, the camera focuses on her bare breasts, nipples erect in the cold air, water streaming down her chest. Her hourglass shape is all the more prominent now, and you wonder how it would feel to run your hands all over her wet body. You begin to lower the camera, but she shakes her head. “These are just for me. Please?”

“J-just for you?” you mumble, mostly to yourself. Her poses grow more erotic. She squeezes her breasts together with her arms, grabs them with her hands, and leans over for you to capture a shot of her from the side with her back arched. Now you’re definitely hard, no question about it, but at least now there’s no way she could be mad at you for it. It’s her fault. She moves towards you, and you set the camera on the ground next to the pool.

“How’d they turn out?” she asks. Her arms reach around the back of your neck, and yours wrap around her waist.

“You’re evil,” you say into her neck before planting a few kisses there.

“Oh, how could you say that? It seems like you had a good time,” she says. Her hips grind forward against your cock; she wants you to know that she knows how hard she’s gotten you. “You know, to be really honest, Hosang, you’re the first guy I ever thought about while touching myself.”

Really?

“Why?”

“You’re an idiot- Oh, God,” she’s interrupted by moans as you kiss further down her neck. “I just like you, okay?

“Well I just like you, too. Always did,” you say.

“I hope so. Otherwise this could be kind of awkward,” she giggles. You withdraw from her neck to place a kiss on her temple, and finally, on her lips. She tastes so sweet, lips so soft, tongue so aggressive. Her hand grabs onto your hair and she forces your head to turn so she can deepen the kiss. Minjeong seems hungry, desperate. You sit back on the ledge with your high school crush in your lap, her legs around your waist. She’s got both hands on your face, and she observes you like some sort of specimen.

“What’s, uh, what’s up?” you say, eyebrows raised.

“Your face… As different as it is, it almost looks exactly the same as the face I fell for back then. And I think I’m falling for it again,” she says. You begin to speak, but she places a finger over your lips. “I know what you’re gonna say. Just don’t think about it right now. Don’t. Think. About anything.”

Between her words, she’s taking your hands in hers, and moving them to her bare chest. You swallow. Hard. She’s right. If only for tonight, for this weekend, for a week, you have to just let it go. Her breasts are soft, and she whimpers when you squeeze them. She giggles and moans through a toothy smile when you roll her nipples between your fingers. Minjeong is clay in your hands, melting under every single touch, and it’s your job to make this trip unforgettable for her, to mold her into shapes of pleasure she’s never felt before.

“You know there’s a sauna,” she whispers through gasps.

“Good idea,” you reply. Water falls from both of your bodies when you stand up with her still wrapped around you, clinging to you like a koala bear to a tree. A quick jog from the pool to the sauna, but the wind still manages to chill you both to the bone. The sauna, though, is comfortably warm. Minjeong in your lap again, you sit on the wooden bench and she devours your neck. Her tongue and breath are hot against your skin and the steam begins to make you sweat already. She stands and takes hold of your hand, beckoning you to follow suit; you stand close to her and she looks up to meet your eyes. Small hands make their way to your waistband.

“Can I?” she asks softly. You help her slide the trunks down your legs, and your cock springs out, painfully hard, smacking your stomach. Her hand wraps around it immediately, and she moves in to kiss you again. She moves her tongue slowly against yours and her hand works your length all the while; her delicate fingers find the precum dripping from your tip and spread it generously. Delicately, she kneels; cautiously, she licks your cock from the base to the tip before latching onto the head and giving gentle suction. She looks up at you with her deep brown eyes and you place your hands on her head. You’re gentle with her. Your fingers make their way through her hair, and you keep your hips as still as you can, so as not to overwhelm her. You feel the back of her throat suddenly, and a moan escapes your mouth briefly, before you slap your hand over it. Minjeong backs off and strokes you with her hand.

“Don’t… I want to hear you,” she says. You feel your cock twitch, and you let out a sigh. A soft moan when her strokes speed up. “Good…”

“What if someone-”

“If someone hears? They’ll leave. Don’t worry,” she says. She gives you a few more seconds of suction, tongue massaging your head, then stands back up. You switch places with her, only now, she casually strips her bottoms off and sits on the wooden bench. Her toned thighs spread apart slowly while you stand back to take her all in.

After all these years, there she is; imagine telling high school Hosang what’s happening right now. Forget moaning her name while I jerk off… She’s right there.

Beads of sweat roll down your face and body. Minjeong, too; she’s covered in dewdrops of her own. Somehow you think they must look better on her than they do on you. A deep breath, and you step towards her. Her chest rises and falls rapidly under your hands when you give her pert breasts some more attention. You’re on your knees, now, watching her face contort and listening to her voice catch in her throat. If she never wore a bra again, you’d surely be happy. Kisses planted down her body, from her sternum down her stomach, halting at her hipline. You take a moment to stroke her thighs softly with your fingertips, and they shudder. More kisses for her legs, from her ankles up her calves to her inner thighs. Her sweat is salty and sweet. How will the rest of her taste? You look at her again.

"What do you like?" you ask.

"I… I don't know."

"When you touch yourself, how do you do it?"

"That's embarrassing…"

"When you're using your hands, imagining they're mine, what do you do?"

"..."

"Show me, so I can do it for you." Minjeong’s eyes are half-lidded, lust-laden. When you look down at her perfect, trimmed pussy, it’s dripping; your words got to her. She takes hold of your right wrist and places your hand on her stomach, thumb on her clit.

“Slowly,” she whispers. You oblige, and slowly make circles on her clit, spreading her wetness over the sensitive nub. Her next move brings your left hand to her mouth. She sucks on your two middle fingers, taking them deeply into her mouth. Wet enough now, she moves your hand, palm up, near her pussy, and nods. “Inside.” The walls of her pussy are so hot, so scorching hot, inch after inch engulfing your fingers. One curl of your fingers and she’s cursing, moaning, bucking her hips. Poor girl must be starving.

“Is that good for you, Minjeong?” you say. Your voice seems like it’s dropped an octave and slowed down about half a measure. It doesn’t matter; she can’t answer you, anyway. She’s busy stuttering out your name. Temptation gets the best of you and you move your thumb away. Minjeong whines, but it’s soon replaced by a near scream when your thumb is replaced by your tongue. As expected, she tastes incredible, some remnants of salt water from the pool, but overwhelmingly sweet underneath. She clenches around your fingers a bit.

“F- Oh my fucking-” Minjeong stutters. Her eyes roll back in her head. Her delicate fingers grip your hair, not so delicately. Rapid, shuddering breaths cause her toned stomach to rise and fall quickly, her arms and legs jerk, and the salty and sweet flavor floods your tongue. Unlatched from your hair, Minjeong’s hands grab your face and yank you up towards her face; as you stand, the tip of your cock grazes over her clit.

“Whoops,” she whispers. Her lips are warm and smooth when they lock onto yours. And you feel her hand creep down your abdomen. Your attempt to break the kiss is foiled with Minjeong’s arm around the back of your head, and her other hand moves up and down your shaft. She’s devious, smiling into the kiss as you fill her mouth with moans, tightly gripping your cock and twisting her hand with her up and down motions.

Kim Minjeong from high school is jerking me off. Kim Winter from Aespa is jerking me off.

It’s a mindfuck. She kneads the back of your neck and sucks on your tongue. You can’t fuck her in a public sauna… Can you?

“Minjeong…” you whisper against her cheek. She looks at you innocently. Like someone who isn’t driving you crazy.

“What?” she giggles.

“How about we go to your room? Could be bad if, you know, someone sees us,” you mumble.

“How about once here, and a few more times there?” she says with a wink. “It’s late, baby… No one will come up.”

‘Baby.’

Minjeong guides you towards her pussy with the hand that had never left your cock. Her legs rest on your shoulders, and you grip her pillowy soft thighs to brace yourself for impact, for entry. Her heat begins to swallow your length, quite easily due to how wet and aroused she is, and she makes the hottest noise she’s made the whole night. And now you’re hilted in Kim Minjeong in a hotel sauna with an unlocked door. Her nails scratch at your chest and shoulders frantically.

“God, so full…” she moans.

“You want me to fuck you now?” you put the sultry voice back on. She nods. “When you’re using your toys, imagining they’re me…”

“Please, Hosang, just fuck me,” she pleads. “However you want. However you need.” It’s all you need to hear, certainly. You pull out nearly all the way, and watch your cock disappear inside of her with a grunt. Your thumbs nearly touch as you wrap your hands around her small waist to pull her down around your shaft with every thrust. All inhibitions are gone, any restraints have been lifted; you’re slamming into her hard, and the both of you moan loudly enough for the reception desk to hear. Minjeong’s tight abs contract and relax under your hands, you look at her face to see her drooling with her eyes rolled back. Like, actually, really drooling.

“Fuck, babe… You’re really enjoying this, huh?” you say gruffly. You swipe your thumb over her chin and she leans down to suck on it instead. Lustful eyes meet your gaze and your thumb pops out of her lips.

“I’ve been waiting so long,” she says. A quick sigh to punctuate her sentence. “So many years…”

“Well-” you try to speak, but she clenches herself around you. “Fuck. I don’t think I can wait any longer than I already have-”

“Pull out baby,” she sighs. “I want to swallow you.”

Regretfully, you withdraw from Minjeong’s tight hole, but the steam keeps your cock rather warm while she kneels down. After a lick from the base to the tip, she takes you all the way into her throat. She takes your hands and places them on her head, looking up at you sinfully. With fistfuls of her dark hair, you pull back, and thrust in again. She gags and coughs, but she never gives up, and soon, you’re shooting rope after rope, nearly convulsing in pleasure. She strokes you into her open mouth, wringing every drop out of your spent cock. When she’s satisfied, she swallows and stands up to kiss your neck and chest.

“How about… How about we go to the room?” she says.

“You want me to stay with you tonight?” you ask. She laughs a bit. Her laugh is fluttering and adorable, a sharp contrast with the noises she was making moments earlier.

“Of course.”

After getting dressed and gathering Minjeong’s things, you head upstairs. In the elevator, you stand behind her; she grinds back onto your groin and brings your hands to her chest. Floors fly by and the number on the small screen goes up as you massage her chest and her delicate moans get you painfully hard once again. She rushes in front of you to the room, giving you another view of those creamy, toned legs, and you do your best to catch up. Once inside, she sits on the bed in front of you and waits. Her hands travel slowly from her hips to her knees, and even slower she parts them with her hands to reveal the glistening skin peeking out from her bikini. Her breath hitches when you step forward and gaze down at her.

“I showed you what to do last time,” Minjeong whispers. “I want to see what you’ll do on your own.”

“No pressure, right?” you joke, and she smiles. Her thighs are soft and malleable in your hands, and her neck softer under your lips. You untie the bikini top and cast it to the side, then kiss further and further down her neck. Kisses travel down her neck, over her collarbones, down to her sternum. There’s still salt from the pool on her skin, and you lick towards her nipple before giving it a bite. Minjeong jumps slightly and closes her fists in your hair. Your mouth works on one nipple and your hand kneads the other breast, perfectly sized for your hand. After switching sides once or twice, you kiss her stomach. Her hands move to your shoulders as you kneel on the floor in front of her.

Minjeong’s legs are wide open. You slide your fingers into the waistband of the swimsuit and slowly drag the bottoms down. More kisses travel from her knees across her inner thighs and up to her hip bones. She’s still dripping for you and you drag your tongue upwards over her pussy slowly to savor her. You spit on your fingers and slip them inside of her easily.

“Ohhh my God-” she whispers and bucks her hips. “Go faster…”

“Mm, so impatient, Minjeong,” you reply. Your tongue returns to her clit and makes smooth circles. She tenses around your fingers when you curl them back towards you, her moans growing louder, grip on your hair growing stronger. Taking her by surprise, you withdraw your fingers and stand up. While her hands work automatically on pulling your swim trunks down, you take a moment to just gaze at her. Her ruffled, semi-wet hair, strands sticking to her forehead and swaying wildly as she kisses up your thighs. Her flushed, glistening skin, cheeks inflating and deflating with the waves of pleasure coursing up your torso as your length disappears into her mouth again. Her pretty shoulders and arms. Her nose buried in your stomach.

Fuck.

“You’re really good at that,” you moan. With a yelp Minjeong is scooped up into your arms and tossed, more or less, onto the pristine hotel bed. She pats the bed beside her, and you get the message. You lie back and let her mount you. She guides your tip to her entrance, and once in line, she slams her hips down aggressively. You’re content to let her ride. Her body moves in mesmerizing ways as she grinds on you, seeking the best angle for your cock to rub against all the right places. Just as soon as you begin thrusting into her, your phone starts ringing.

“Dammit, sorry, Minjeong,” you curse and remove the girl from your lap. Fucking spam call? Really? With the phone silenced, you turn around to see her lying back on the pillows.

Like an animal, you crawl towards her; you feel like one at least, with the way your cock is throbbing. She pulls her legs up for you, and you guide your tip towards her dripping center. The warm feeling envelops you again and you sigh, eyes closed. Your hands find her waist and keep her torso still while you begin to drive into her. You almost can’t even hear her whines anymore, her voice punctuated by each thrust, curses and iterations of your name following every other sound.

“-nside me,” Minjeong’s voice fades in as your stupor breaks a bit. You lean forward and make a confused expression. “Cum inside me. I want to feel you fill me…”

And something about the way she says it just obliterates any second thoughts you may or may not have had. Her high, airy voice, begging for such an impure action, intensifies the warm, wet pleasure surrounding your cock. It only gets warmer and wetter as your cum dumps into Minjeong, deeper and deeper inside of her, coating your shaft, dribbling out onto the sheets. Your thrusts slow down, but your dick stays inside; you’re tired. You wrap your arms around her waist, and lie down gently on top of her with your face in her neck. She administers gentle scratches to your scalp.

“You came so much, Hosang,” she whispers. Her legs settle around your back.

“Drained all my energy,” you laugh weakly.

“You’re heavy. Can we switch?” she says. So you do; you roll onto your back. Your cock slips out in the meantime, and you both laugh about it. She fits in your arms like she was made for them.

For a long while you lie there. The cold air condition and the crisp sheets are a welcome contrast to your steaming hot skin and the panting, sweating furnace lying on top of you. Minjeong painstakingly brings her hand to your cheek and kisses the other with soft lips. A slow blink. A thought in your mind.

Is this what it feels like?

“What are you thinking about?” she asks. She knows.

“How do you feel about me?” you reply. Her expression is mixed.

“How do I feel… I feel like there’s a reason we ended up on this trip together,” she answers. Her body rises as you take a deep breath. “I mean I feel like something brought us together.”

“What do you want to do about it?” you ask.

“I want to find out why. There must be a reason this happened, you know?” she says. A small yawn. “Like… There must be something waiting at the end of a journey we can take together to find out. Or something.”

Together? A journey?

“Think it might be time for you to go to sleep,” you whisper. Her baby hairs stick to your face when you kiss her temple. The sheets are smooth and cool when you pull them up over Minjeong’s body and yours. She falls asleep quickly. You don’t. You’re thinking about IFR plans and what to say to her in the morning. Your fingers trace along the smooth skin of her hips and lower back for a while. The softness is comforting. And you fall asleep.

Is this part gonna go in the blog post?

#aespa fanfic #winter x male reader #aespa x reader #aespa x male reader #aespa smut #winter smut #girl group smut #kpop fanfic #kpop smut

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leviathanleva · 5 months

Text

Daisy

Pairing: Cooper Howard/The Ghoul x Fem Reader [DARK FIC]

Description: Cooper Howard was not a kind man, he cared for nobody, but himself. Then he found you, a lost little dove, barefoot and crying, torn dress and big innocent eyes staring at him like he was a hero. He knew you’d be a burden, he knew you couldn’t survive in the wasteland, he was doing you a favor.

But he couldn’t pull the fucking trigger...

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

[5.5k words]

🌼🌼🌼🌼🌼🌼🌼🌼🌼🌼🌼🌼🌼🌼🌼🌼🌼🌼🌼🌼🌼🌼🌼🌼🌼

Chapter 6 "The Book"

Green.

Green spanning as far as the eye could see. A thick, overflowing forest accompanied by such humid air it made you nauseous and slightly out of breath. It did well to shield you from the sun and you no longer had to use your blazer as a substitute for a poncho and avoid a sunburn.

It took you nearly two days to stop gawking at the luscious flora once you’d set foot in it and the ghoul had found it necessary to bark a threat at you a couple of times when your feet had stilled to take in the scenery. You didn’t let his grumpy nature affect you though. You’d never seen such a view and you let your eyes feast with mouth ajar and hands fisted. Sticky mud, twigs, and leaves clung to the soles of your boots and the vapor you were sure was radioactive frizzed up your hair.

You’d expected the forest to be brimming with life, from animals to insects, birds, and critters, but there was nothing. When you took the time to recollect the past three weeks while silently following behind your bounty-hunter-turned-tour-guide, you hadn’t seen any birds. The bombs wiping them out was the obvious explanation, they were gentle creatures, they didn’t stand a chance and it was a melancholic realization. Bird songs were the symphony of nature and it was painful to know you’d never be able to hear it.

You adjusted the backpack strap away from your throat and rubbed at the sore spot before taking a few springy steps to catch up with the ghoul. His pace had quickened for reasons unknown and you had to jog to be able to keep up with him. It was tedious considering the slippery ground actively worked on slowing you down, but you’d take this over going a faceoff with the sun any day.

Humanity’s traces could be spotted scattered amidst the greenery, bits of metal sprouting from the dirt, tattered cloth at the bases of the trees, or hanging off low branches, a plane wreckage in the distance. It was comforting that other people had passed by your route and left a piece behind, an echo of their presence. You wanted to believe they were good because so far there hadn’t been a soul you had encountered that hadn’t tried to attack you.

WELCOME FOR TO TILLBURRY

A bright red billboard was risen high above the treeline, fastened to a multitude of wooden planks nailed together. The once pearl white paint was now a deep yellow with spangles of rusty brown, the words were peeling off, weathered down by time, you could tell even from where you stood.

You stand shoulder to shoulder, except the ghoul’s is more at level with your cheek. He kicks some buildup off his shoes and opens his canteen.

The settlement is right down the hill. Tillburry. You made it to Tillburry.

“We made it?” you release your lips from their toothy prison and your face lights up with an untamable grin. You beam up at him and shake his arm excitedly. “We made it, Mister.” your eyes dart back to the sign, you’re practically vibrating next to him. “I can’t believe it!”

He pauses between swigs and glances down to where you’ve taken hold of his wrist. His lack of reply stirs your attention and you follow his gaze, then let go and step away with a wary expression.

“Uh…Sorry. I just got a little – ” you’re tugging at the frilly edges of your dress anxiously, one foot readies on its toes if you spotted even a glimpse of a rope peaking from behind his back. “ – I didn’t – No tying up, please? My ankles are still sore from last time, Mister.”

You’re an eye-bat away from bolting, again, and it never works because he’s scarily good with a lasso, but you’re stupidly optimistic. Last time you’d gotten on his nerve he’d tied you up and hung you from the ceiling lamp of an old farmhouse, gagged as well, mind you, because you wouldn’t stop talking. At least, he’d been kind enough to take your shoes off so you could stretch your feet and keep the blood circulation going. The fact that he’d used you as a sentient coat hanger was less nice.

Then again, you’d gotten another dose of his scent while he’d had dinner by himself and ignored your existence for a good hour or two. It wasn’t all bad, or maybe it was but you were too dependent on him to protest against his unorthodox punishments.

“Ain’t no point.” he clicks his tongue and glosses over his canteen before tucking it away. “You don’ learn nothin’ cept how to complain harder.” he taps a gloved finger against the center of your forehead, forceful enough to have your neck tipping back and you scrambling for balance. “Thought you were supposed to be smart. How come nothin’ sticks in that lil skull o’ yours?”

“Mm, have you thought about maybe…” your eyes squint at his rough gesture and you pull away with a wince. “Maybe a nicer approach to your lessons, Mister?”

“Nice don’t keep you alive, Darlin’.” he doesn’t spare a breath before answering and after a moment you reluctantly nod.

His malignity and somber methods were a necessity both for your development and safety yet you wished it weren’t so. You wanted for a kinder world and less spilled blood and were likely one of many, but no one had the privilege of choosing what they were born into. Despite all ill circumstances, you were still lucky to be taken under the wing of an expert, taught how to survive by someone who’d lived so long and accumulated enough knowledge to fill a library.

It wasn’t peaches and marmalade up here, although you had a can of both stuffed somewhere in the depths of your backpack.

The hand which had been resting on his hip reaches for the hefty tato sack slumped next to his boot and he secures it over his shoulder before nudging his head towards the welcome sign.

“Les go.”

You’re hot on his heel, stomping down the mucky hill with acute prudence, your dress was already dirty, you didn’t need to add mud stains to the extensive collection.

The peaks and roofs of ramshackle buildings loom above the shabby fence surrounding the settlement, dyed in varieties of reds and yellows, some fully, others unfinished because there was no more paint to spare. The vegetation became sparse and the soil soon gave way to dusty gravel that crumbled delightfully under your boots. Once close enough for a better inspection, you notice the defensive walls are nothing more than plates and pieces of different scrap metal bolted together. A swirl of barbed wire is draped on the top and rotting pikes are sticking out from the base.

It wasn’t exactly the warm welcome you were expecting.

Anxiety and excitement kept you glued to the ghoul, mostly hidden behind his unfriendly frame. A meager excuse came up as a means to start up a conversation that might ease your quickening pulse and sweaty palms. You decided to keep the silence, though, opting to restrain your questions for a later time, when there was less tension built up on his shoulders and his fingers weren’t instinctively gliding over the handle of his pistol.

You heard the marketplace before you saw it. Your stomach flipped once you stepped beyond the open town gates, now being able to put faces to the buzzing chatter lingering in the air.

“Holy moly…” you gasp with brows raised high and your step falters.

It was busy.

After years of solitude and countless dreams of a normal pre-nuclear war life, after nearly a month in the company of a single man who preferred action over word, the reality of civilization crashed into you like a boiling wave. Hot prickles pinched at random places around your body, beads of sweat are already trickling from your armpits and your skin becomes clammy. With a heart lodged in your throat, you stumble forward, giving in to the ghoul’s rough tug on your wrist.

“Keep movin’.” his rasp fails this time, impossibly outmatched by the turbulence simmering inside you.

“Mm…sorry.” it’s an empty apology, insincere because he sees your eyes flitting and knees wobbling.

You never expected the settlement to be this…overwhelming.

Strangers are passing by and blending together in a jumbled blur of worn-out clothes and limbs. Carts are being rolled between the isles, restocking items as soon as they’re bought, and smoke lingers high above your head, amassed from chimneys, food booths, and cigarettes.

You find it difficult to breathe the more information your short-circuiting brain is forced to process.

“Get your RadAway right here good people! Three for the price of one – ”

“ – Cactus fruit for sale! Fresh out the – ”

“ – Bullets, guns and more bullets – ”

Stalls were huddled together, adorned with junk and trinkets, things you couldn’t even begin to comprehend. And even if the owners already had at least one customer looking over their products, they still hollered at the crowd bustling around them. There’s a heavy stench in the air, of car oil and lack of hygiene, sweat and musk blending in with roasting meats that smell like no animal you’ve eaten before.

Shopkeepers had the doors to their establishments open, waving over weary wanderers with promises of a good time and helpful products.

“Stimpaaaks! Rad-X and more! Whatever your heart desires! Save a life! Buy a stimpaaak!”

You avoided eye contact, keeping your sights low and only skimming over the intricacies of the stands. The flood of strangers was cordial enough not to bump into you, but when a roasted cricket was shoved in your face and behind it a pair of foggy blue orbs stared right into your soul you recoiled.

“Ah, no thank you, Sir!” you give the merchant a wide apologetic smile and lift a hand to your mouth.

You latch onto the ghoul’s forearm when the merchant’s face falters for a split second before he’s already trying the unfortunate person behind you. For a moment there you’d thought he’d pounce on you, there was no telling considering the man looked half-dead.

“Aww, was wrong, Sweetheart?” your bodyguard barks out a laugh, sneering down at you. “Don’ want a cricket on a stick?”

You don a thin-lipped, unimpressed expression and detach yourself from him.

“I’ll stick to crackers and canned beans, thanks.”

His teasing tone unwittingly shook off a part of your anxiety. The overstimulation eases to a broiling irritation and most of the smells and sounds fade behind a wall of ignorance. You still sweat more than you’d like, but your pulse nestles back into a steady rhythm. You take a breath and squeeze your palms a few times, working through an alien mental exertion as your face settles with neutrality.

“Suit yourself.” he snorts, guiding you towards a particular stand. “Dunno what you’re missin’ though.”

“Think I’d rather keep it that way.” you murmur under your breath and turn back for a more in-depth examination of the unappealing delicacy. “…Yeah.”

Bugs…Who eats fucking bugs?

There’s a steaming caldron propped up over a steady fire, but you can’t discern the scent and your upper lip is already twitching into a disgusted scowl. The owner has his elbows resting on the display counter, and the sleeves of his shirt are rolled to just below his meaty biceps. His thick mustache spreads into a delighted smile and he abandons his hunched-over posture when he notices your uncanny duo approaching.

“Welcome! Browse at your leisure.”

“One o’ those.” the ghoul motions towards the cauldron and you’re ready to fight back nausea, anticipating a monstrous fiend turned snack to emerge.

You were wrong.

The man sinks a ladle inside the lively water and fishes out a potato.

“Oh.” you blurt without a second thought.

“What d’you think it was?” he tosses a few caps on the counter and plucks the boiled potato from the merchant’s ladle and you can’t help but grimace.

“At this point, nothing would surprise me.” you answer honestly, then cock your head with a face scrunched at the unnerving sight. “Doesn’t that sting? He just…y’know…took it out of the water?”

Does this man honestly have no pain receptors or is he just high again? Either way, you were left stunted every time he took a blow without a flinch. From bullets to hot potatoes, nothing could scathe him.

“ ‘S fine.” he blows away the steam and unfastens his hunting knife to cut a sizable piece from the top, then tosses it at you.

You catch it with a precious glint in your eye, graced with a bittersweet smile. Him willingly splitting food was a new addition, but an act you cherished fervently. A display of custody so fleeting and illusive it was unclear how intentional it was.

Then the heat finally registers and you’re forced to juggle the mushy piece between your hands.

The ghoul dips his half in the disturbed salt pile next to the fresh vegetable crate, and you mimic him once the potato has cooled enough to hold. He’s already moving and you follow closely behind while giving your treat a few more needed puffs and tapping off the excess salt.

“So what are we looking for now, Mister?” you ask and dodge bumping shoulders with a dazed old woman while adopting a steady tempo by his side. You’re looking up at him with wonder while sinking your teeth into the potato and he’s very tempted to lick his thumb and try to wipe off that incessant glee from your face.

“Trader’s shop.”

“Oh, right! For the Pip – ” a hand is harshly smacked over your mouth. He shakes his head curtly and his mouth dips into a short-lived frown; you clear your throat and nod in understanding.

Right…Everything from the vaults was considered a rare treasure on the surface. People were ready to kill for a single one of the items each of you was carrying. Caps flowed whenever a mint-condition lint roller was involved, let alone more practical things. And Pip-boys were at the top of the pyramid. They were priceless. Some would sacrifice a limb to get their hands on one because it meant they were settled for life.

You scan over the current of wanderers for any prying eyes but find none. It was too noisy; your words had been drowned out the moment they’d escaped.

Maybe you should try not to forget you aren’t living in a vault anymore…

You hold onto a wrinkle at the back of his coat as he cuts through the busy market, then wipe away the remnants of potato bits with the back of your hand.

Everything seems to have the same coat of decomposition to it, from the persons to the buildings, but it has a charm to it, it’s lively and somewhat welcoming.

Familiarizing your surroundings presents you with a feeling of peace and the anxiety is finally washed away for good. Well, as long as you keep reminding your self-centered doubt that nobody’s gawking at you or paying you any mind. You’re just a nobody lost in a sea of nobodies and you like it that way, just you and the ghoul minding your business, not being threatened or attacked or anything that would coerce you into taking action.

A safe haven. Finally.

A gargled moo pierces through the din of chitchat and your head snaps. And there, amidst the stalls a cow is lazily sloshing at a bucket of water while simultaneously rearing its snout around and sniffing the air because it has two freaking heads. It looks skinned, reminds you of your grumpy gunslinger and you can’t help but titter. You make a turn towards it, handholding with your nosiness. Then you reassure the concerned squeal at the back of your head that you’ll find your way back by the distinguishable cowboy hat sticking out like a sore thumb in the crowd.

Just a closer look and then you’ll be right back by his side.

A two-headed cow. How fascinating!

Your escapade is short-lived. An iron grip takes hold of your backpack no more than five steps in and jerks you back. The strap digs into your throat and you gag with a backward blunder.

“Ehugh – ”

“ – The hell you think you’re goin’?”

The back of your head collides with a solid chest and you gaze up to meet an acquainted scolding face.

“The cow. It has two heads.” you answer candidly, blinking up at him, dumbfounded. “I – ” your lips purse as you briefly mull over your next sentence. “ – I wanted to see it up close?”

“ ‘S called a brahmin, Darlin’.” he’s unimpressed with your revelation, lets you go, and spares a brisk, disinterested glance at the mutated cow.

You dust off his crude gesture and smooth out your dress and backpack. His barbarian tactics are slowly losing their charm; he makes a mental note to up the ante in the future.

“How does it work though. With two heads?”

“Take one good look a’ me ‘n tell me if I’m a fuckin’ vet.” his arms are crossed over his chest, weight rested on one hip. You disregard his snappiness as your eyes roll from him back to the brahmin.

“Do they bite?” you know it’s probably a herbivore, but considering its disfigured state and the scarce vegetation along your journey, you have reason to consider other possibilities. With a palm placed on your waist, you tap a forefinger against your hipbone in thought. “Can I pet it?”

“No. Now move.” he grips your upper arm like a disgruntled father and drags you forward as you keep your neck craned to the side to stare at the cow over your shoulder. “Ain’t got all day.”

“But – ”

“ – You stray more than two feet away ‘n I’m puttin’ a leash on ya.” he hisses you into silence and presses onward, towards the last few remaining stands.

The thickness of the crowd lightens as you approach the end of the market. Once you manage to escape all the fuss and buzz you give a gentle pat to his wrist and he releases you with a warning grunt to keep close.

Given more room to note the architecture and structure of Tillburry, it reminds you of an old cowboy settlement rather than a pre-apocalypse town. The buildings are raised in such a peculiar array, all random and each one different. There are no traditional houses, per se, everything is turned into a business, from a shady hospital to a loud bar made guest house because even travelers need a bed sometimes. You see a few tire-ridden trailers, but even they have a makeshift sign plastered on the door offering services for caps.

A label scribbled with coal rests above the entrance to a two-story shack.

Trade & Barter – If it exists, we have them!

Mm…Maybe you could become the local English teacher, give the folk a few grammar lessons, put that multi-subject dossier in your head to the test. Make theory into reality and try your hand at machinery, build a lamp or do some testing and create a water purifier. From what you’ve read, it’s not that difficult, but the materials needed can range from tricky to impossible to scavenge.

You step onto the wooden porch of the trader’s shack, the bell above the door springs to life when the ghoul enters and you follow suit.

First things first, you had to figure out if you were going to continue travelling with him or if he was going to keep his word and let you settle here. There was a small chance he’d forgotten and if you didn’t mention it, he’d let you trudge along. Tillburry was a nice place, but you’d choose him over anything else if you had to pick.

“Evening good people!” a scrawny old man peaks from behind the counter accompanied by a symphony of metal clanks and a few curses. He dusts off his hands and plants them over the register with a crooked smile. “Mah name’s Hank. Now how can I help you lot?”

He eyes the ghoul in an odd manner, then you.

“Oh, it’s you…”

“Got another deposit t’ make, old man.” said ghoul slaps all five Pip-boys on the counter and rests on one of his elbows as he leans down. “Thousand caps up front, the rest every few months till you pay em in full.”

You have to squint when Hank’s eyes bulge out of his skull and he hastily stuffs the merchandise under his desk.

“You tryin’na get me robbed?!” he straightens to look over the windows then hunches down and continues with a hand cupped over the side of his mouth. “Where did you find so many?” he pauses then, a certain grimness to his face. “Never mind, don’t wanna know.”

Your vision is overflowing with all the junk strewn about, hanging off walls, stuffed in dusty display cases, over tables and windowsills, there’s items even on the floor. Most of it is weaponry and repair parts, a trinket here and there, a greasy comb, gold teeth, and a half-built robot of some sort. You lightly kick at a stray margarine cap abandoned on the floor, then stop when an elbow is roughly dug into your side.

You spare your assailant a bitter glare while tenderly massaging away the pain, then click your tongue but relent at the curt “behave” you’re tossed back.

The trader has the light strapped to his forehead shining down on the Pip-boys. He fiddles with each one briefly, turning the cog and testing the menus, then tries them all on his wrist to check the security of the straps. He’s humming, muttering something incoherent while evaluating the treasures from your vault.

“We doin’ business or not, Grandpa? They ain’t fucken’ fake.”

“I might be old, but I’m still a babe compared to you.” Hank spits back with surprising vigor and disappears under the counter. “Now have an ounce of patience you grumpy bastard. Gotta check em or else Imma be the one dealing with the consequences.”

“Sorry?” your attention darts back to the ghoul who’s suddenly avoiding eye contact. “How old did you say you were, Mister?”

“Ain’t you got junk t’ stare at?”

The remainder of his reply is cut short by a snort of a laugh erupting from behind the register.

“Oh, he’s ancient that one.” the trader resurfaces with an old plastic bag stuffed to the brim with caps, he ties it neatly and pushes it forward. “Been around since – ” he sputters, frozen solid as the edge of a hunting knife is pressed flush against the collar of his shirt. “Right…” he swallows once, then gently steers the blade away with the tips of his fingers. “Ain’t my story to tell, sorry Lil miss.”

“Sure ain’t.” the ghoul nods, lower lip slanted.

“Uhm…can I – ” you pipe in and set your backpack between the two before blood is spilled. “ – Can I trade too?”

“Sure you can.” Hank nudges towards you, hands clasped together and stubby fingers intertwined in silent anticipation for your upcoming offer. “Watchu trading?”

You’re rummaging through supplies, pushing away food cans and bottles of water until you reach the very bottom of the bag. You grip a thin, plastic wrapper and force it past the sea of provisions before showing your open palm to the trader.

“Is this worth anything?”

“Well, well.” he snatches the item and settles the glasses dangling from his neck on the bridge of his nose as he concentrates on the label. “Pristine condition too. You don’t see these around much anymore.”

“A toothbrush.” the gunslinger is scowling when you turn to look at him. “You brought a fuckin’ toothbrush?”

“Three actually. One for each of us and a spare in case I lost mine. Which reminds me!” you’re digging through the bag again briefly before plunging another packaged toothbrush into his face. “Here’s yours.”

He plucks the damn thing from your grasp while you keep up a sickly sweet smile, twirls it in his fingers and he would have been annoyed if he wasn’t already so thunderstruck.

“Why do you have to be like this…”

“Twenty-five caps.” the trader declares and stuffs the merchandise in his back pocket.

“Deal!” you exclaim and gather up the caps as soon as they’re set on the counter.

“Workin’ through your debt already, Sweetheart?”

You squint at the question and shuffle away from your interrogative companion. Your foot is already tapping incessantly against the floorboards, a dead giveaway.

“Yes?” you clear the lump in your throat and lift your nose towards a book hanging just above a display cabinet. “But also I wanted to buy – ”

“ – No.” short and stern, no wiggle room. “You ain’t wastin’ no caps on a damn book.”

“Why not? They’re my caps.” you ask, but are promptly ignored when he gives you a cold shoulder and turns back to Hank. You aren’t even graced with the courtesy of debate.

With a regretful look, you secure your backpack over your shoulder and give the tome a last, pained glance as you rub at your upper arm.

“Gimme five packs o’ Grey Tortoise too.”

Hank stacks the cigarette packs in the ghoul’s outstretched hand before leaning back with a nod, instigating the end of their trade.

“Good doing business, Cooper, now get the hell out before I go bankrupt.”

You snort before you realize it.

“Shit. Shit. Shit!”

Your body freezes and you’re looking straight ahead as your teeth clamp down on your lips. The laughter bubbles, pushing against your chest and throat and you barely manage to inhale a shaky breath.

“There somethin’ funny, Smooth-skin?” the ghoul, Cooper, tantalizingly engulfs you under his frame. Each hand is gripping the counter, on either side of you, as he forces his chest into your shoulder blades and leans down until his voice is right in your ears. “Hm?”

“No.” you rasp, and your jaw clenches immediately after as your vision blurs with tears and you’re fighting so hard not to fucking cackle. You’re suppressing yourself so violently that you’re shaking. “No, Sir.”

His name is fucking Cooper. The deadly gunslinger, the boogeyman, the ruthless killer, the zombie cowboy. Cooper…

You can’t breathe.

“I’m gonna…Gonna wait outside, Sir.” you proclaim with a strained voice and slip out of his dangerous embrace, ducking under his armpit and heading towards the exit with stiff footing.

After securing the caps and cigarettes in his bandolier, he’s ready to follow, but a curt whistle from Hank stops him and he turns back to see the man waving him over. Already lacking patience for the upcoming exchange, he sighs and spares you a once-over to make sure you’re out of ear reach, and then he’s back at the counter, glaring.

“Go on.”

You shift to the left of the door, leaning back against the windowsill and leaving your backpack to rest between your feet. The world is slowly dimming, crickets deftly chip in the distance and it would have been pleasant if you hadn’t known they can grow as big as your arm. A few people pass by, scuttling towards either their homes or the bar opposite of where you stand. Besides a muffled murmur, there’s nothing you can catch from the conversation and curiosity gnaws at your gut, but you don’t have the courage to peek inside the shop and risk getting caught. A steady whizz as the minutes pass by, you don’t care for being left out, there’s already too much you’ve witnessed and endured that you wished you never had.

An abrupt rise in octaves catches your attention and your eyes flick to the side. Something in their exchange wasn’t going right, a topic was unraveled that was acrid for both parties and you curse at your limited hearing for being unable to catch any particular words.

A storm comes out the door that nearly knocks the bell off and startles you. You step back to avoid him in his blind fury, a distinct “oof” escaping you when the book is blindly thrust into your stomach. The sun has sunken, and an array of moths flutter around the swaying light bulb above the trader’s entrance and despite Cooper’s soured mood, you’re happy to have him back. Plus, he’d relented and gotten you the book, either he or the shopkeeper had pitied you enough to hand it over.

You’re dancing around him like a butterfly, the title “The Count of Monte Cristo” bouncing in and out of sight as you twirl the tome around.

The bar is well-lit, Christmas lights hang from the windows and roof, and he’s headed straight toward it. The atmosphere is unpleasant, whatever discussion he’d had with Hank had left a sour taste on his tongue, pinched some nerve that you could only guess.

“Thanks, Mister.” you try with a soft note and secure your present under your armpit for safekeeping, hoping a little sugarcoating might help ease his frustration. “I’ll cherish it forever.”

He pays you no mind, not even when you pinch the sleeve of his coat to keep in toon with his hasty stride.

“I like your name.” you peep through the mingling silence and glance up to find a strained expression and a sharp glare directed away from you. Your smile does nothing and falters quickly.

There’s a gap there, one that didn’t exist until you left him to converse in private with the old trader. The lingering question of whether you’re staying here or going with him is dismissed for the moment despite the time you have together ticking away. There’s malice building on his features the longer he stays locked away in his head and your words drift past him without effect.

“Mister?”

No response.

It’s when you wrap a hand around his wrist just as he’s about to burst into the bar that he stops.

You release a breath and ignore your skittish nature yanking at you to run, or apologize and hope for the best. There’s a clog in your throat and you feel the air becoming harder to intake, but that doesn’t stop you.

“Whatever he said isn’t true.” your eyes search the display of shells fitted over his chest, then flick up to find his. “You’re not a bad man, Cooper.”

It’s a shot in the dark because you don’t know what was said or done. But this is better than leaving him to sulk. He gets to know that you’ll stick by him no matter what happens. You’ll be there, even if the whole world turns against him, he’ll have someone who will stand by him.

“I’m a rotten man, Sweet pea.” his gaze is steady as he replies. He doesn’t believe you and not because you’re naively spewing words of comfort, but because he’s seen a lot more than you. He remembers the things he’s done and will keep doing and he knows himself well and you’re just plain wrong. “You jus’ don’ know it yet.”

“You’re a survivor.” you repost, chewing on the inside of your cheek. “And we’re all a little rotten inside.”

He rests a hand on your head, then moves to slump an arm around your shoulders and puffs out a breath. He’s not up for such a conversation, not now, not with you.

You don’t know him, not really. You don’t know that his vials are running dangerously low while your presence is turning into a solid option to get more. There’s a good reason he’s kept you safe and barely scathed and it’s not a measly three hundred caps.

And you hadn’t done anything to deserve such a fate, but his life came before yours, a rule of survival that you’d never learn.

Hank had had his suspicions the moment he’d laid eyes on you, but it wasn’t his business and despite having grown soft from decades living in a settlement, he had no right to dictate how others survived in the wasteland.

It might be cruel to keep you in the dark while your life is being weighed by a constantly shifting scale, but the ghoul would rather you enjoy the time you have left. Maybe they’d be kind and sedate you before harvesting your organs and you’d remember him as the hero he wasn’t, or maybe you’d grow a brain and stay in Tillburry. At least now he has the caps to buy off two large whiskey bottles and wash away the image of your face when struck with betrayal.

He was a survivor, you’d said so yourself, he did what he had to do, but that stupid conversation and Hank’s stupid expression wouldn’t budge from the back of his eyelids.

“What’re you gonna do if she doesn’t stay here though?”

“There’s always Super Duper Mart.”

“Oh, by the way.” your voice is a spark in the void of hopelessness, ripping him out of the maze of thoughts he’d unwittingly fallen into. He leads you through a haze of clinking tankards and lively, drunken chatter, a heavy smog of cigarette smoke that makes your nose wrinkle, and dim lighting to hide people’s identities. But you’re just happy to be with him and it’s visible by the perky smile on your lips. It’s painful to look at. “My name is – ”

“ – Don’t.”

🌼🌼🌼🌼🌼🌼🌼🌼🌼🌼🌼🌼🌼🌼🌼🌼🌼🌼🌼🌼🌼🌼🌼🌼🌼

Chapter 7 >>>

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imshii-kin · 1 month

Text

Psychic In Training ::

Chapter # 1 Tourist Trapped

Wattpad

Code, Chapter 1 (You are here)

Life is infinitely stranger than anything which the mind of man could invent. - Conan Doyle

»»————- 🪬 ————-««

'Ah... Summer break, the time for parents to ship their kids off to some negligent camp to terrorize some poor 20-year-old looking for some extra cash.'

'That is... unless you're with the Pines.'

You scream as the golf cart crashes through the billboard, roughly hitting the ground before speeding up again. Glancing backward, you could see the shadow of the creature chasing you, and it seemed to be getting closer.

"Dip!" You yell, "It's gaining on us!"

"I know! This thing won't go any faster, Y/N!" The boy in front of you shouts back.

"Uhh guys," The girl next to him peaks her head out of the cart, "It's getting closer!" She shouts panicked.

"We know!" You and the boy yell at the same time.

'My name is Y/n. The sweaty boy in front of me is Dipper, and the girl beside him about to puke is Mabel.'

'Now, you probably already know why we are fleeing from some imaginable horror in a golf cart. Well I'm going to tell you anyway, and I promise, it's for a completely illogical reason.'

»»————- 🪬 ————-««

Beep. Beep. Beep.

You groan, reaching over to silence the alarm. It's the first day of summer break, but your mother insists on the 7:00 AM wake-up call.

"Y/n! The Pines are here!"

You groan louder. Your mother found a loophole after promising not to send you to camp this year. Now you're left wondering what's worse: a summer at Camp Campbell or a summer with the Pines weird uncle.

Dragging yourself out of bed, you slip into a short-sleeve turtleneck sweater and a pair of shorts, moving as slowly as you can.

"Come on, Y/n! We don't have all day!"

Grabbing your backpack on the way, you rush downstairs, where you're met with Dipper's less-than-enthusiastic expression and Mabel's overly enthusiastic grin.

It can't be that bad, right? No crazy, out-of-control adventures.

With a resigned sigh, you follow the Pines out of the house, bracing yourself for whatever this summer has in store.

»»————- 🪬————-««

"I'm pretty sure this is breaking some kind of child labor law," you mumble as you restock the blue and white pine tree hats. Off to the side, Dipper is polishing a jar of eyeballs while Mabel stalks some random customer.

"Mabe," you call out, giving her a pointed look. "Stop creeping on that poor guy and help me with these hats." Mabel just blows a raspberry at you, her focus undeterred. You turn to Dipper with a shrug. "Well, I tried. Your turn."

Dipper sighs, rolling his eyes as he sprays the jar again. "Mabel, I get that you're in your 'Boy Crazy' phase," he says, stealing a glance at the list in the customer's hand, "but you're kind of overdoing it on the 'crazy' part."

Mabel blows another raspberry, this time at Dipper. "Come on, you two!" she exclaims, bouncing over to join you. "This is our first summer away from home!"

You raise an eyebrow. "Speak for yourself, Mabe. I've been going to summer camp since I was five. It's not all it's cracked up to be-just a bunch of rules and chores." You gesture to the hats you're organizing. "This is just a slightly more illegal version of that."

Mabel crosses her arms, a smug smile spreading across her face. "Mock all you want, but I've got a feeling this summer's going to be amazing. In fact," she points dramatically to the door, "I wouldn't be surprised if the man of my dreams walked through that door right now."

The three of you turn to see Grunkle Stan walking in.

"Ha!" you snort, pointing at Mabel. "Dreamy enough for you, Mabe?" You continue laughing as Mabel cringes in disgust.

Stan strolls over, eyeing the three of you. "Alright, I need someone to go hammer up these signs in the spooky part of the forest."

"Not it!" Mabel and Dipper shout simultaneously, making you groan.

"Uh, also not it," Soos chimes in.

"Nobody asked you, Soos," Stan deadpans.

"I know, and I'm comfortable with that," Soos replies cheerfully, taking a bite out of a chocolate bar.

Stan turns back to you and the twins. "Well, since one of you was slow, you're doing it." He dumps a stack of signs into your arms. "But you've got a habit of 'getting lost,' so you'll need a companion."

Scanning the room, Stan spots Wendy at the counter. "Wendy! Help Y/n with these signs!"

Without even looking up from her magazine, Wendy replies, "I would, but I... uh... can't... uh... reach them."

Stan mutters under his breath, "I'd fire all of you if I could," before turning to Dipper. "Alright then, let's make it eeny-meeny-miney..." He points at Dipper. "You."

"What?!" Dipper protests. "Grunkle Stan, I always feel like I'm being watched when I'm in those woods." He sneaks a glance at you, lowering his voice. "And Y/n gets weird in the forest."

You shoot Dipper a glare. "Hey! I can hear you, you know..." They ignore you.

Stan gives Dipper an unimpressed look, pinching the bridge of his nose. "Ugh, not this again."

"I'm telling you, something weird is going on in this town. Just today, my mosquito bites spelled out 'beware.'" Dipper rolls up his sleeve to show Stan.

Stan squints at it. "That says 'bewarb.'"

You snicker. "Who knew mosquitoes were bad at spelling?"

Dipper lowers his arm, embarrassed, scratching at the bites. Stan shakes his head. "Look, kid, the whole 'monsters in the forest' thing is just a local legend made up by guys like me to sell merch to guys like that." He nods toward a sweating, grinning customer clutching a handful of merchandise.

"And Y/n's just... a little special. Nothing weird about it." Stan shrugs. "So quit being paranoid."

You huff, handing some of the signs to Dipper. "For the record, I can still hear you."

»»————- 🪬————-««

Hanging up the signs quickly became boring. Dipper was hammering nails into the trees so that you could hang the signs, he was muttering something about Stan not believing him.

"Could you not?" You snap, "All you do is complain, it'd be nice if you'd talk about something more pleasant for once."

Dipper shot a sharp glare your way. "Like you're any better. All you do is make snide comments and dump your work on everyone else."

You gasp, feigning offense. "When have I ever?"

Dipper's expression turned flat, clearly unimpressed.

✄┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈

"Who shrunk my sweater!?" Mabel wailed, holding up the now tiny garment. "I told everyone this was special cotton! It needs delicate care!"

You glance up from your magazine. "Pretty sure Soos did it," you answer before returning to your reading.

Dipper stared at you before his eyes flicked to the chore list on the wall, your name plastered next to 'Laundry'.

✄┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈

"That was one time." You defend yourself.

"No! It wasn't! That was one of multiple times!" Dipper said exasperated, placing down another nail and hammering it.

Clank

Both of you freeze, staring at the tree. Dipper taps the hammer lightly against the trunk again, confirming the odd sound. Lowering the hammer, he examines the tree closer, running his hand over the bark until he finds a small crack.

With a glance at you, he pries open the "tree."

A mechanical box with two switches sat within a hidden compartment. Dipper tests one of the controls, nothing. He flips the other switch, and next to you, a hatch suddenly opens in the ground.

You exchange a wary look with Dipper before cautiously peering inside the hatch. There, nestled within the earth, lay an old, thick book. Dust covered it completely, cobwebs clung to its edges, and millipedes skittered across its surface. The cover bore a gold six-fingered handprint, with the number "3" written on its palm.

You slowly reach for the book in the hatch, somewhat hesitate as a bad feeling sinks into your stomach.

A sharp shock runs through your hand as your fingers graze the surface of the book. The air around you seems to hum with a sudden energy, and a burning sensation spreads across your palm.

Something was drawing you towards the book, something ancient and powerful as if it had been waiting for you. The sensation sharpens, and a rush of images and whispers, flood your conscience.

"-/n! Y/n!!" With a sudden tug, you're pulled away from the book. Dipper, who was now in front of you, was gripping tightly onto your shoulders, a look of genuine worry on his face.

"What was that?" he asks, searching your face for answers. When you don't respond, he turns and reaches into the hatch, carefully pulling out the book.

He places it on the ground and opens it, eyes scanning the pages.

"It's hard to believe it's been six years since I began studying the strange and wondrous secrets of Gravity Falls, Oregon." Dipper flips through the book, each page revealing bizarre creatures and terrifying monsters.

"What is all this?" Dipper whispers in awe. You lean over his shoulder, catching a glimpse of a page that reads "TRUST NO ONE!"

"My worst fears have been confirmed. I'm being watched. I must hide this book before it's found. Remember, In Gravity Falls, you can't trust anyone."

You and Dipper exchange a tense look, a silent pact forming between you both.

"HALLO!!"

You yelp in surprise, falling backward.

Mabel was behind you, leaning over a rotten log. "What'cha reading, some nerdy thing?" she teased, trying to peek at what Dipper was hiding behind his back.

"Uh- uh- it's nothing!" Dipper stammers, shooting you a desperate look.

""Uh, uh, it's nothing!" What? Are you not gonna show me?" Mabel laughs.

Dipper looks at Mabel then the Journal then back at Mabel. "Let's... go somewhere more private."

Mabel raises an eyebrow but simply shrugs. She hops over the log and strides quickly toward you, extending a hand to help you up.

You offer her a grateful smile as you reach for her hand.

"What is that?!" Mabel exclaims, suddenly tightening her grip on your hand as she examines it closely. "When did you get a scar like this?"

Startled, you pull your hand back and stare at your palm, shocked to find a vertical eye seared into your skin.

»»————- 🪬————-««

"I can't find anything," Dipper mutters, flipping through the pages with a frustrated sigh. "There's nothing about a mysterious vertical eye appearing on someone's palm."

The three of you have ended up in the Mystery Shack's resting room. You're seated beside Mabel, while Dipper paces back and forth, rifling through the Journal's pages.

"But still, this thing is incredible!" Dipper exclaims, holding the Journal open for Mabel to see. "Grunkle Stan thinks I'm just being paranoid, but according to this book, Gravity Falls has a hidden dark side."

You lean forward, a frown tugging at your lips. "Dip, this could be dangerous. That book gives me the creeps." You wave your hand in front of Dipper's face. "And look at what it did to me!"

Dipper bats your hand away, his expression annoyed.

Ding-Dong

"Who's that? More tourists?" you ask, glancing toward the door. Mabel grins at you. "Well, it's time to spill the beans." She playfully pushes over an empty can of beans. "Boop. Beans." Mabel beams, clearly pleased with her joke before continuing, "This girl's got a date! Woot woot!"

You and Dipper exchange incredulous looks. "Wait," you begin, "In the half hour we were gone, you managed to get a date who didn't run away from your... let's say, intense enthusiasm?"

Mabel nods enthusiastically. "What can I say? I guess I'm just irresistible."

Dipper looks like he's about to say something, but you cut him off with a grin. "You know what? You go, girl."

The doorbell rings again, and Mabel jumps up, hurrying to answer it.

Dipper sighs, slipping into the seat Mabel just vacated. "I can't believe I was right," he says with a grin, flipping open the journal. "Do you mind trying to touch it again?"

You hesitate for a moment, then nod. "Alright, but if I get possessed, I'm blaming you." Dipper brushes off your comment and passes the journal to you.

You carefully take it from his hand, bracing yourself for anything.

...

But nothing happens. No surge of energy, no eerie whispers—the journal sits quietly in your hands, completely still.

"What'cha reading there, slick?" Grunkle Stan asked as he walked into the room.

"Oh!" Dipper yelped, quickly shoving the book behind his back and snatching up the nearest magazine. "Just catching up on..." He glanced at the cover in his hand, "Gold Chains for Old Men?" He read aloud, raising an eyebrow.

Stan leans over Dipper's shoulder and grins, "That's a good issue."

"Hey family~" Mabel calls out as she drags some homeless-looking guy with her, "Say hello to my new boyfriend!"

"Ugh- ew-" you blurted out at the sight of the pale, disheveled boy, but quickly stopped when Mabel gave you a look, "Sorry, it was involuntary."

"Sup." The boy says.

"Hey," Dipper responded awkwardly. Stan, still focused on the TV, didn't bother to look at the boy. "How's it hanging?"

You squinted at him, suspicious. "How old are you?" you asked.

The boy hesitated, stumbling over his words. "Uh- um- fifteen?" he answered, uncertain.

"...You're definitely lying-"

"We met at the cemetery!! He's really deep." Mabel quickly interrupts your line of questioning.

Dipper narrows his eyes, suspicion clear in his voice. "So, what's your name?" he asks.

The 'teen' straightens up, a bit tense. "Uh... Normal... MAN!" he blurts out.

A faint warmth begins to radiate from the center of your palm, just enough to make you curl your fingers slightly. Unbeknownst to you, a soft greenish-blue glow flickers beneath your skin.

"He means 'Norman,'" Mabel chimes in, leaning closer to him.

You take another look at Norman. "Right... and is that blood on your cheek, Normalman?" you ask, pointing to the red liquid dripping down his face.

"...It's jam," he replies, a little too quickly.

"...Seriously?"

Mabel gasps, delighted. "I love jam!" She turns back to you and Dipper with a grin. "He's perfect!"

You shake your head. "Mabe, your standards... where are they?"

Norman turns to Mabel, "So, you wanna go hold hands or... whatever?" He asks, Mabel blushes shyly, "Oh, goodness!" she exclaims, casting a quick glance at you and Dipper. "Don't wait up for me!" she calls out, her voice light and excited as she hurries out the door with Norman.

As they disappear, the burning sensation in your palm begins to fade, replaced by a faint, lingering buzz. You lift your hand, studying the vertical eye with a puzzled expression.

»»————- 🪬————-««

"Of course Stan sticks me with the broom closet for a bedroom," you mutter, shuffling into the cramped space. As soon as you reach the bed, you collapse onto it with a weary sigh. Your gaze drifts to your hand, staring at the vertical eye on it.

"...What are you?"

KNOCK KNOCK

"Y/n!!" You jolt, startled by the sudden noise.

"Mabel'sdatingazombieandshe'sgoingoutonadatewithhimrightnow!!!" Dipper's frantic voice spills through the door in one breathless rush.

You quickly get to your feet and swing the door open. "Woah, woah, slow down, Dip-" You grab his shoulders, worry knotting in your chest. "Explain that again, but slower."

Dipper takes a couple of shaky breaths, but his panic is still written all over his face. "Mabel's dating a zombie, and she's going on a date with him right now!" Without waiting for a response, Dipper turns and dashes off, pulling you along with him.

"Huh!? Wait- how do you know?" you manage to ask as you stumble after him.

"Earlier today, I was following him to gather evidence," Dipper confesses. "When I reviewed the footage, I saw him lose his hand and then reattach it!"

"I knew something was off about that weirdo..." You mutter, following Dipper out of the Mystery Shack. Stan was standing in front of a crowd, showcasing some kind of rock face, which made it virtually impossible to get his attention.

Scanning the area for an alternative, your eyes land on Wendy, casually sitting in a golf cart. "Dip! Look!" you exclaim, pointing toward her. Dipper's eyes widen before he grins at you. "Nice catch, Y/N!"

Rushing over, you quickly approach Wendy, "Wen, Just the gal I need, you don't mind if we steal that cart and possibly wreck it right?"

Wendy looks at you, then at Dipper, then back to you, and shrugs with a lazy grin, tossing you the keys. "Just try not to mow anyone down."

With a smirk, you hand the keys to Dipper. "Let's go save your sister."

You and Dipper jump into the cart, ready to back out of the lot when Soos suddenly appears, blocking your path.

"Dude, it's me, Soos," he says with a grin, handing Dipper a shovel. "This is for the zombies." He then turns to you, passing you a bat. "And this is just in case you come across a piñata."

"Uh... Thanks?"

»»————- 🪬————-««

"I am seriously regretting giving you those keys" You shout as Dipper drives through the forest like a madman.

"Don't worry Mabel" Dipper shouts loudly, "We'll save you from that zombie!!" He accelerates faster.

"Help!" A shout resonated from off in the distance. You and Dipper gasp,

"Mabel!"

"Mabe!"

Dipper makes a sharp turn off the road, driving through the forest trying to follow the sound of Mabel's voice.

Soon, you both approach some kind of cave, and inside you can see Mabel surrounded by... gnomes?

Dipper slows down, parking once he's in the cave. "What the..." He mutters, "What the heck is going on here!?" he shouts, both confused and extremely underwhelmed.

A gnome runs up to you and hisses, prompting you to kick it.

"Dipper! N/n! Norman turned out to be a bunch of gnomes!" Mabel shouts as she bats away the gnomes crowding her, "And they're total jerks!" One particularly persistent gnome latches onto her hair, making Mable gasp in pain, "Hair- hair- hair-!"

Dipper stares at the chaos, shaking his head in disbelief. "Gnomes... huh, I was way off."

A faint warmth begins to emanate from your palm, similar to before. Glancing down, you gasp seeing the vertical eye glowing with a soft greenish-blue light.

"Hey! Let go of my sister!" Dipper yelled at the brown-haired gnome.

The brown haired gnome spins around, offering Dipper a sheepish grin. "Oh! Uh, hey there," he stammers with a nervous chuckle. "This is just a big misunderstanding, really. Your sister's perfectly safe. She's just, you know, marrying all thousand of us to become our gnome queen for eternity!" He turns back to Mabel with a smirk. "Right, sweetheart?"

Mabel, now tied down, glares daggers at the gnomes. "You guys are butt-faces!" she yelled before one of them hastily muffled her.

You step up beside Dipper, and kneel down to the gnome's height, trying to ignore the faint warmth spreading in your palm. "Listen here, Normal-man," you mock, voice steady, "if you and your creepy little friends don't let Mabel go, I'm going to recreate that gnome scene from the 2015 Goosebumps movie." You give your bat a subtle lift, just enough to make your point clear.

The gnome glares at you. "You think you can stop us? You have no idea what we're capable of. The gnomes are a powerful race! Do not trifle with the-"

You nudge him off the rock with your bat.

Dipper wastes no time, stepping forward to cut the string holding Mabel down with his shovel. Mabel flashes him a grateful smile before kicking the gnomes away and rushing toward the golf cart.

Dipper grabs your hand, pulling you along. For a brief moment, he hesitates, noticing the glow in your palm. You can almost hear the questions forming in his mind, but the urgency of the situation forces him to push them aside.

Once in the cart, Dipper quickly starts it up and speeds away. Faintly, you hear Jeff yelling behind you.

As the three of you exit the cave, Dipper eases up on the speed, his tension fading.

"Hurry, before they come after us!" Mabel urges, prompting Dipper to chuckle. "I wouldn't worry. Did you see their legs? Those suckers are tiny!"

You frown. "I'm with Mabe on this one, Dip. That was way too easy."

Dipper rolls his eyes. "And you called me paranoid-"

THUMP THUMP THUMP.

"...I blame Dip. He jinxed us."

A giant gnome monster, made up of smaller gnomes, looms behind the golf cart, chasing you.

"Move, move!" Mabel shouts at Dipper. He stumbles but quickly picks up speed. Glancing back, you see the creature's shadow growing larger.

"Dip!" you yell. "It's gaining on us!"

"I know! This thing won't go any faster, Y/N!" Dipper shouts back.

"Uhh, guys," Mabel says, peeking her head out of the cart. "It's getting closer!" Her voice is panicked.

"We know!" you and Dipper yell in unison.

The monster swings its massive arms, hurling small gnomes through the air toward your cart. Two gnomes land beside you, and out of reflex, you smack the one on your left, knocking it out cold.

The gnome on your right hisses, ready to pounce, but you swiftly grab the unconscious gnome and toss it at the other, sending both tumbling out of the cart.

Another gnome crashes onto the hood and springs at Dipper, latching onto his face with a tight grip.

You lunge forward, reaching over the seat to help the boy. The moment your hand touches the gnome, a greenish-blue light flares from your palm. The gnome yelps in pain, releasing Dipper and snatching his hat away in the process.

Mabel gasps, turning to you with a bright smile. "How'd you do that?" she asks. You stare at your hand, bewildered. "I... I don't know..."

Before either Mabel or Dipper can ask more, a tree crashes down in front of the cart. "Watch out!" you shout as Dipper swerves to avoid it. He manages to steer clear, but the sharp turn tips the cart over, sending all of you tumbling.

Groaning, you crawl out of the wrecked vehicle. "Called... it..." you mumble, slowly getting to your feet.

The ground trembles as the giant gnome monster approaches, each of its thundering steps echoing through the forest.

"Stay back, man!" Dipper shouts, grabbing a shovel and hurling it at the monster. The creature swats it away effortlessly.

The twins cling to each other in terror. You step in front of them, instinctively trying to shield them from the looming threat.

With every step the monster takes, you and the twins retreat, until you're backed against a wall.

"It's the end of the line, kids!" Jeff yells from atop the monster. "Mabel, marry us before we do something crazy!"

"Shoot..." you mutter, glancing at Mabel. "There's gotta be a way out of this..."

Mabel's gaze locks onto the monster as she carefully considers her next move. Slowly, she steps past you and Dipper, her expression firm. "I gotta do it," she says, her voice steady.

"Mabel, don't!" Dipper grabs her arm, fear evident in his eyes. "Are you crazy!?"

She doesn't waver. "Trust me," she whispers.

Dipper hesitates, about to protest, but you place a hand on his shoulder. "Hey, Dip," you murmur. "Trust her, just this once."

After a tense moment, Dipper sighs in frustration, then steps back.

Mabel offers you a grateful smile before turning to face the monster. "All right, Jeff. I'll marry you."

"Hot dog!" Jeff cheers, scrambling down the monster's side. "Help me down there, Jason! Thanks, Andy! Left foot, there we go... watch those fingers, Mike."

Jeff approaches Mabel, holding out a diamond ring with a smug grin. "Ehh? Ehh?" he says, gesturing to the jewels. Mabel kneels down, letting him slip the ring onto her finger.

"Bada-bing, bada-bam!" Jeff dances with glee. "Now that's how you get a wife! Let's head back to the forest, honey!"

Mabel admires the ring. "You may now kiss the bride," she declares.

Jeff smirks, leaning in for the kiss. "Well, don't mind if I do."

As Jeff moves closer, Mabel leans back and flicks on the leaf blower behind her, aiming it straight at him. The suction pulls him in with a whoosh.

"That's for lying to me!" Mabel shouts, cranking up the power. "And this is for breaking my heart!"

Jeff flails helplessly, yelping in pain.

You and Dipper approach, both thoroughly impressed by her quick thinking. Mabel glances over her shoulder, a sly smile forming on her lips. "And this... is for messing with my brother and my best friend."

She lifts the leaf blower and points it at the monster. "Want to do the honors, Dipper?"

Dipper grins widely. "On three."

"One, two, three!"

They launch Jeff out of the leaf blower, sending him crashing into the giant monster, scattering it in pieces.

With their leader gone, the gnomes scramble in confusion. You grab a rake leaning against the Shack and start herding the gnomes back into the forest.

Once you were sure they were all gone, you turned back and started heading in towards the Shack, Mabel had gone inside after talking with Dipper, leaving just the two of you.

"Oh- Um, Y/n!" " Dipper called out just before you reached the door, making you turn to face him. He scratched the back of his neck awkwardly. "I just wanted to, uh, clear the air?"

He hesitated, glancing at you to gauge your reaction. "Since we've been stuck here, it kinda felt like we were at odds," he admitted. "But with everything that's happened - the journal and all - I figured we should..." His voice trailed off.

"But especially after today," his tone grew firmer, "you helped me when you didn't have to. If it wasn't for you, I don't know if I would've been able to get to Mabel..."

You smiled. "I get it, Dip, no need to get all mushy." He flushed, groaning a little in embarrassment. "But, honestly, you proved me wrong. You're a lot braver than you give yourself credit for."

Dipper stared at you for a moment, then smiled. "Thanks, Y/n. That... means a lot."

A comfortable silence settled between you just as Mabel popped back outside. "Come on, guys! Grunkle Stan has a present for us!"

»»————- 🪬————-««

You admire your new ring, a simple silver band etched with intricate Celtic designs. Inside, the name 𝕌ℝ𝕎𝕍𝕆ℝℍ is engraved, the letters catching the light as you turn it between your fingers.

A knock on the door pulls your attention from the ring. Shuffling around the tight space, you make it to the door and carefully open it.

"Dipper?" you ask, seeing the boy.

He nods, clutching the journal under one arm, a pen in his other hand. "Yeah, I wanted to talk about your... strange mark." You step aside, allowing him to enter, and the two of you settle on the bed.

"This started when you touched the journal?" Dipper asks, glancing at your hand. "Can you feel anything from the mark?"

You nod slowly. "Yeah, there's this constant faint buzzing sensation, and sometimes it gets really warm." Dipper jots something down in the journal, his brow furrowed.

"And do you know what triggers the warmth?"

You pause, thinking back. "It happened when Normalman first appeared - my palm started aching. And then again when we were near the gnomes."

Dipper murmurs to himself, deep in thought. "But why now? Was it the journal that set it off? Could you be some kind of psychic?" He clicks his pen repeatedly, lost in thought.

"Maybe... you have a knack for sensing the supernatural," he suggests, his voice trailing off.

You glance out the window, noticing the sun had long set, "Let's discuss this more tomorrow ok?" You suggest, "It's been a long day Dip, you should get some sleep."

Dipper frowns, trying to protest. "But-"

Before he can finish, you start nudging him toward the door. "Nope, not until I get my beauty rest," you say with a playful grin.

Despite his reluctance, you manage to push him out of the room and shut the door behind him.

"He worries too much," you mutter with a smile. With a yawn and a stretch, you make your way to your bed, sinking into the comforting embrace of the covers. As your eyes grow heavy, you're unaware of the soft glow beginning to emanate from your palm.

. . .

When you open your eyes, you find yourself standing in an empty field. The sky is a strange, burnt-orange hue, and to your surprise, you spot not one, but two suns hanging low on the horizon.

"Where... where am I?" you murmur, spinning around to take in your surroundings. Far off in the distance, you notice a figure, their entire body obscured by layers of clothing.

With nothing else to guide you, you approach the figure cautiously. "Hello?" you call out, the sound of your voice echoing slightly in the eerie stillness.

The figure jolts, turning abruptly to face you. A scarf and goggles hide their expression, but their posture is tense. "You!" he shouts, his voice sharp. "How did you get here? Who are you?"

You hesitate, glancing around once more before offering a helpless shrug. "I don't know. I just went to bed and woke up here."

He studies you closely, his gaze unnerving. After a moment, he reaches out toward you, his hand passing through your form. You blink in surprise.

"Fascinating," he mutters to himself, stepping back to examine you more. "Somehow, through your dreams, you've crossed into this place."

A strange sensation begins to ripple through you, like a tug from deep within. The man's eyes widen in alarm. "You're waking up," he whispers, almost in awe.

You glance down at yourself, watching in disbelief as your body starts to fade, the colors draining like watercolors bleeding into the paper.

"Wait!" the man calls out, suddenly frantic. "There's so much more I need to-"

But before he can finish, everything blurs, and the dream collapses in on itself.

. . .

Your eyes snap open, the soft light of morning filtering through your window. The room is still, the quiet only broken by your racing heartbeat. You lift your hand, the glow slowly fading once more.

You exhale deeply, trying to shake off the lingering sense of unease, wondering what it all could mean.

A/N: Wooo Gravity fall's fandom is making a comeback!! This is an old - old rewrite of a fanfic I made on google docs as a kid. Now that I can write, I figured why not revise the old thing?

#dipper x reader #gravity falls dipper #dipper pines #mabel pines #gravity falls #stanford pines #grunkle stan #stanley pines #gideon gleeful #pacific northwest #wendy testaburger #gravity falls soos #waddles the pig

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thebestsetter · 5 months

Text

The emperor's bad luck

An: This is actually my first fic! Also, english isn't my first language, so I'm sorry for any spelling mistakes! I just read Kaiser's backstory and got really sad. HE'S JUST A BABY 😭😭

Michael Kaiser has never been a lucky guy. And I'm not talking about that kind of luck of finding a penny on the floor or getting a question right even though you don't know the answer. I'm talking about a luck that is harder to be found nowadays: the luck to be born with a great family, with loving parents and awesome siblings. The kind of family that you see on magazine covers or billboards, smiling and having fun together, looking like they've never had a bad time.

His mother left him when he was just a baby. A Hollywood actress who has probably already acted as a mother in a movie, although not in real life with her own son: ironic, isn't it? She looked like an angel, with pretty blond hair and beautiful blue eyes, but her looks didn't reflect her personality: a cunning and clever woman.

So, she came up with a plan to make her fame grow: she laid down with a movie director. After she became more famous, she left the man all alone. Well, maybe not ALL alone. She left him with their son: Michael Kaiser. But the man didn't appreciate it and often abused Kaiser. For every mistake Michael made, he hit and tortured the poor boy. When Kaiser was barely 8, his father started sending him to the streets to steal food and other things, since the man couldn't really work because he began drinking (he also didn't want to work, and sending his kid to steal things was a lot easier).

- Now go, Kaiser! - the man said while waving a broken beer bottle in the air - and don't come back without that milk you forgot last time, or else I won't be as gentle with your punishment.

Michael grabbed the backpack his father handed him and ran out of his "home", not wanting to spend another second with that man.

"They found out I stole from that shop" Kaiser thought while looking at the shop he stole from the last time he went on his 'robbery spree' "so I have to find another one".

He then began walking across the neighbourhood trying to find somewhere to steal from. The blond boy came across a new shop he had never seen before: it was a small shop with red colored walls. The german child decided that was the one he was going to rob. Passing his small hands through the shelves full of things he couldn't even think of buying, Kaiser shoved the important things down his bag, such as eggs, butter and other things. He then came across the dairy session. Reaching for the milk, Michael quickly grabbed it and hid it into his bag, wanting to get out of there before he got caught, when suddenly he heard a gasp coming from behind him.

- Are you stealing milk? - a (h/c)nette girl said, startling Kaiser and causing him to drop the bag from his hands, making all the items of his backpack spread across the floor. Scared, he began to pick his things and stuff them back on the bag - hey, what are you doing? COME BACK HERE!

The girl began to chase him around the store while begging him to stop running. After some time, she finally caught up with him.

- I-I'm sorry - he said, panting - p-please don't turn me in! I need to steal to s-survive. My father doesn't work and my mother left me with him. I'm sorry, but I need this things!

- Don't worry, I won't report you! - she said, smiling - my father is the owner of the shop. I can give you some cookies and snacks to go and won't turn you in, but with one condition: you need to answer the question I wanted to ask you when I saw you stealing the milk.

- O-okay - he said in a calmer tone - what is it?

- Do you wanna be my friend? - she asked, her toothy grin appearing and almost blinding Kaiser because of how big and bright it was

- W-what? - he asked, making the girl repeat herself - sure, I guess…

- GREAT! You're my friend now! Come on, I'm gonna give you something to eat.

The girl gave Michael some snacks (without her father seeing them, of course) from that shelves that had things he thought he'd never get to eat and went to the door of the store to say goodbye to him.

- Bye hm… - she began, then gasped - You're my friend, but I don't know your name!

- I'm Michael Kaiser - he said, clearly a lot more confident around the girl, but still a little weary

- I'm (Name) (Last name) - she smiled, glad that she made a new friend - bye, Michael! Come here tomorrow again so we can play!

- (NAME)! COME HELP ME OUT IN THE SHOP! - they heard her father yell

- COMING - the girl shouted and waved goodbye to Kaiser for the last time before disappearing inside her family's shop.

Althought Kaiser was a guy that didn't have a great luck, he considered himself lucky for finding her: his first friend ever since he was born. And for the first time in a few years, Kaiser went to sleep with a full stomach and a happy mind, with a new found hope in his soul: a hope for a better future, with friends like (Name) (or maybe even her, if his luck suddenly decided to change) at his side.

#bllk x reader #bllk #bllk x you #michael kaiser #bllk fluff #bllk kaiser #blue lock kaiser #kaiser x reader #Ihatekaisersparents #blue lock #bllk manga #blue lock x reader #blue lock x you #Blue lock

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confessedlyfannish · 2 months

Text

Six Years Ago

Part One

Part Two

Part Three

Fortunately for them, the kid isn't good at subtlety. When he appears it is usually with a delayed boom announcing his arrival, like a crack of thunder to his lightning. And a hood pulled low over someone's face doesn't mean much when there's only one preteen in the world who can blow a fire out with his bare breath while floating in midair.

Unfortunately for them the kid is fast, see aforementioned "sonic boom". That is not to say Danny could not follow him anyway, but after the eighth time he heads to one of the kid's rescues and he flees before Danny can get a word out, Ellie is sitting at his kitchen counter heating up his leftovers.

"You need to cool it," she says, using her fang to pop open a sapporo. "He doesn't want to be found right now."

"Yeah, I got that." Danny says, swiping the beer out of the hands of what is technically a fourteen year old. She shoots him a scowl as the microwave dings.

"He's a child, and he's sick, Ellie." Even if Frostbite hadn't said as much, it hasn't escaped Danny's notice that in the past two months his speed has ever so slightly slowed. A particularly brave emergency worker had scolded Phantom for scaring him off this time around, concerned about his thin wrists.

"Gee, a sick child runaway, I wonder who that reminds me of," she says, tapping at her chin. She douses the chicken lo mein in sriracha.

"That's different. You knew to come find me, when it got bad. This kid is afraid of me." And he was. Whenever he and Danny met eyes the kid would go pale(r) with fear before zipping away.

"So make him less afraid."

Danny gapes at her. "Gee," he says slowly, a mimicry of her earlier sarcasm. "Why didn't I think of that."

"You're literally stalking the kid right now, you think I don't know about Tucker's alert system? Right now you must seem like the boss monster that shows up at the end of the level," Ellie says. "You need to approach this differently. Go slow, the way you did with me." She pauses, mouth twisting in a way that signals she's about to be reluctantly vulnerable with him.

"I didn't know what it was like to be...cared about. Properly. Before you guys. Even with the memories," she taps her head with the chopsticks, "It didn't click. But you showed me you would be there for me, even as you respected that I needed my space. You taught me how to trust you."

Danny takes a lengthy pull from the bottle he's still holding. "I can't be patient with him, Ellie," he says. He fiddles with the edge of the peeling label. "He's going to get worse."

"Yeah." Ellie says. "And I think you should let him."

---

The first time the backpack appears, Jon takes one look at the post-it with the scribbled stylized D and ":)" on it and tosses the whole thing in the trash before taking off.

He does the same the next four times, even as the backpack gets bulkier, its contents crashing together as it hits the nearest available dumpster.

He's in New York City after he saves a window washer from falling twenty stories when he sees his face plastered on a Times Square billboard. A hotdog stand owner in New York City offers him one on the house which he reluctantly accepts, trying to ignore the man's searching gaze.

He's not an idiot. He knows he's starting to look like crap, if the way the people react when they see him means anything. It's not like he smells, he regularly bathes in clean streams and lakes, but even when he eats coconuts and mangos and wild raspberries until his stomach is bursting and he has spent the last five minutes petting a giraffe on the head, feeling so giddy he almost forgets how his family is gone—he feels...strange. Weaker. The cuts on his side and face from the evil robot with the green eyes have slowly scarred pink, and they still pull and sting if he stretches. Jon's never had a scar before, and now he has six. And he's losing weight.

A lot of the people he meets have been super nice about it, offering him food and, in a particularly cold area of Alaska, a zip up hoodie he now wears over his recognizable family crest. Not that doing so has stopped the white-haired guy from finding him. But it has allowed Jon to move around more freely when he isn't out rescuing people. He even made some cash in Wisconsin cleaning up a grocery store before the night shift manager had recognized his face.

This and the billboard means he stops to buy a pair of cheap glasses and a large t-shirt with the NYC skyline and shorts on it from a tourist shop. After, he takes a bus to New Jersey with the last of his money and changes in the bathroom. He bites back a sniffle when he peels his superhero costume from his body. He's suddenly overcome, poking a finger through the slashes in the side, and spends the rest of the trip with his head buried in his knees, trying to keep his hiccups quiet.

When he exits, he heads to the library he's already visited three times before. It's bad, to develop a routine like this when he is actively being hunted, but he can't help himself any more than he can help the way he sometimes sleeps in that barn in Kansas, the few times he feels like he can actually rest, surrounded by the familiar smell of animal and hay.

As he searches a few more terms that predictably turn up nothing on the public computer, he notes bitterly it's not like the man can't find him anyway. Just because he's backed off doesn't mean he isn't around, silently threatening Jon with randomly appearing backpacks. Each backpack is different too, as if Jon might be taking issue with the color purple rather than the scary guy providing them.

Jon pushes away from desk, waiting for the inevitable wave of despair that hits him after each Google session proves fruitless. He's even, in one moment of lunacy, searched Talia Al Ghul, thinking if anyone can find him after his search pings her servers it's her—

But she never did come.

No one has.

Except for him.

The wave today is muted, lapping at his ankles rather than bowling him over, and somehow the resignation that accompanies it hurts more. He wants to do something, anything, and so he scoots back to the cubicle and types in white haired flying man, d symbol.

This is the first time he learns about Phantom.

---

The boy has started taking the backpacks.

Each one is filled with fresh meals in glass tupperware, meant to last for a while even without refrigeration (though with the boy's ice breath, maybe it's not a problem), as well as ziploc baggies filled with pretzels and carrots and goldfish and celery sticks.

("no peanut butter, he might have a nut allergy!"

"Wouldn't that have come up in Frostbite's scan?"

"You think Frostbite would've thought amidst scanning a little boy's half-alien body to check for a peanut allergy?"

"...Fair enough")

Alongside the meals are cash in the form of U.S. dollars, pounds, euros, yen, yuan, and an extreme hail mary in the form of an ATM card that Ellie rolls her eyes at every time Danny packs it.

There is also a miniature first aid kit, sans medicine but including ice and heat packs you can shake to activate. Danny wedges folded clothing in the spare edges of the bag, a blanket, and forces the zipper closed over a pair of high top sneakers similar to the ragged ones the boy wears. He tops every one with the same post-it drawing of his symbol, and a smiley face.

The boy is still weakening, beginning to look like a strong wind could blow him over even as he zips through mudslides in Colombia and scoops a father and son out of a rip current in Italy, but as he accepts the backpacks Danny listens to Ellie and waits.

And then one day Danny is watching him push a bus away from the edge of a sinkhole in Mexico, school kids pressed against the rear windshield watching him, and Danny hears the creaking of his bone right before the kid's arm snaps.

"Okay, fuck this," Danny says into the Fenton comms as the child wails, swooping down to grab the boy with one arm and the bus with the other.

The boy is too stunned to react, sobbing with pain as he cradles his arm protectively, and Danny shamelessly takes advantage of that as he gently but hurriedly places the bus beside the crowd of spectators.

A very small woman who immediately beelined for him as he landed smacks him in the shoulder, hissing at him in Spanish while several people try to hold her back. She smacks him again.

"I'm trying to help him. I promise. Ayuda." Danny says, shifting the boy into a more comfortable bridal carry.

"Ayuda? Help? You, you bad! El pobre niño." The woman sneers. "Bad! ¡Mal Fantasma! ¡Eres un padre horrible!"

Danny knows what padre means, and even if he didn't, he's heard the rumors and conspiracies (and maybe even leveraged them in a conversation with the U.S. government, who can say) and he doesn't bother denying it, because the truth is he has let this child down from the moment he allowed him to be hunted on Skulker's island, and he deserves every nasty word and more.

"Yeah. I know," he tells the woman. In his ear, Sam demands to know what's happening. The boy is incoherent with pain, the outline of the bone pressing against his skin.

"It's going to be okay," Danny tells him, lifting off the ground. Regret is sour in his gut, bile on his tongue. What was he thinking? In the curl of his arms, the child is so small. This isn't a stray cat one coaxes into their home. This is a terrified little boy.

Danny isn't a fourteen-year-old too young and stupid to recognize he shouldn't let a two-month-old clone explore the world with his blessing. He's twenty-eight. He needs to get a grip.

He needs to be better.

The world stops. Everything goes quiet.

A blue portal unwinds via the hands of time.

"I see you're ready now." Clockwork says to him.

Danny wants to deny it, but the words are stuck in his throat. What use is denying what Clockwork already knows to be true?

"This is the right choice, Danny. Everything will be as it should be. Help him," Clockwork nods at the child. "Then find me."

Danny's tongue unsticks from his mouth. "Only if you tell me. If I do this, will he be safe? Will I have the power to protect him?" An echo of what waits to be unlocked drapes over his words, cracks appearing in the ground at his feet. "Tell me."

"Yes. You will keep him safe. Until he no longer needs you to do so. Here."

With a wave of his staff, a neon green portal rends through the air.

Clockwork drifts back to his own portal. "I will see you in Time, Danny."

Danny nods at him as he leaves, feeling a contract snap into place as time restarts at a crawl.

"Shh kiddo," he says as the boy, gradually unfreezing, trickles tears. "I've got you. You'll be okay. I'm going to fix this. I promise."

He steps through the portal, towards whatever comes next.

Part 5

#me: there's references i made in the other parts #me: i should review before i write this so i make sure i hit those refs #also me: nah i'm good #I think I have one more flashback in me before I leave this alone #jonathan kent #jonathan samuel kent #danny phantom #dp x dc #superman #dp x dc au #dp x dc prompt #dp x dc crossover #my writing

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acapelladitty · 4 months

Text

caught a saint, while he was sinning

Pairing: Cooper Howard/Lucy Maclean

Summary: His insides more outside than he would like due to a deathclaw attack, Cooper is fixed up by Lucy until a wicked nightmare sparks disaster between the pair. (5k words)

Fic Masterlist

Link to AO3

Hissing in discomfort while Lucy diligently threaded the needle through the torn flesh of his lower stomach, Cooper grit his teeth against the pain as he let his mouth run to compensate for the sharp sting.

"That goddamn hurts, vaultie."

Lucy paused at his exclamation, her hands stuttering in their work as she glanced up as his drawn face. He hid it well but she could see the dullness in his eyes as he refused to flinch away from the needle which pulled his skin neatly back together.

"Sorry. I'm trying to be gentle. I haven't sewn someone up before, only my clothes."

A rogue deathclaw had got the better of Cooper, its sharpened talons ripping a solid line through his stomach and tearing the hell outta his shirt as it ambushed them from behind an old billboard they were attempting to pass by. Quicker with his reflexes, Cooper had knocked the oblivious Lucy down to the ground as the beast charged but the slight delay cost him the kill shot and the pained shock of having his skin torn open had dropped him just as quickly.

Lucy had been the one to put it down, recovering with surprising speed as a scream wrenched free of her throat at his injury. Her hands had been quick to pull her gun free and blow a chunk clean out of the beasts head, a lucky kill which felled it in an instant. Immediately returning to drop to his side to check the damage, her hands had been everywhere, tugging at the ripped shirt to expose the wound as he lay there, gasping and grunting as he valiantly fought the urge to scream.

It had hurt like fresh hell in a handbasket.

Sure he could heal, but something like this took time and that vulnerability was almost worse than the wound itself.

Luckily, a nearby house - the four walls barely standing due to weathering and age - had been close enough to be jerkily hobbled to as Lucy supported him with his arm locked around her shoulders.

She had never seen him hurt like this before and it showed in how her fingers trembled and her eyes refused to leave him as she administered what little help she could. It was a level of attention that struck a hot discomfort which ghosted across his skin as he endured her ministrations while propped against one of the filthy walls within the kitchen.

"Will you be okay?" Lucy asked, again, and as much some part of him acknowledged that the question came from a place of genuine concern, Cooper couldn't help the irritation it ignited within him as his jaw twitched.

"I'm damn fine, quit your fucking yappin'."

Lucy winced at the aggression but didn't stop her work as she sewed up the last of the wound and tied off the end of the twine. Her fingers were coated crimson and the glossiness of them made her feel queasy as she inhaled and exhaled careful breaths to keep her composure. Watching Cooper drop following the fleshy squelch of his abdomen being carved through had made her own heart cease beating for a solid moment and the adrenaline from that fright refused to leave her as it spilled across her actions.

"Do you need anything?" Her shaking hands reaching for the small backpack which housed her kit, Lucy wasn't sure what the hell she was supposed to do now. The blow should have killed him, it would have killed her stone dead as her body was much softer than his own, but Cooper was still here, suffering yet as much of a grumpy bastard as ever. "What about some chem?"

"Best idea you've had today, sweetheart." Cooper hissed through gritted teeth, his hand unfurling from his duster to hold out and await his beloved drug. "Hand it over."

Lucy didn't hesitate, uncorking the small vial and placing it within his hand, holding it there until she was certain that he had a good grip of it. In response, Cooper didn't hesitate to slam it down his throat - a few errant drops dripping free of his lips as a satisfied shudder rolled through his damaged frame.

"Sweet as honey." He mumbled, wiping off his mouth with his wrist. "Apple pie and ice cream ain't got shit on whatever the fuck they lace this with. Makes me miss cocaine."

With no idea what that was, Lucy smiled indulgently regardless before her face turned somber once again and her nose pinched with concern.

"But will you be okay?"

"Relax, princess. Don Pedro used to carve more than this off me for fun and you don't see me sobbing like a bitch about it."

"Wh-what does that mean?" She frowned, the little wrinkle that always appeared between her brows when she was confused quickly making itself known.

"Oh yeah. Just before our little causal disagreement over that one scientist, I spent the last thirty years six feet under with nothing but the maggots for company." Cooper said, his face tilting to meet her own as he confessed a bit more of his history to her. "Except for being dug up, hauled out like a mule, and made lighter to the tune of a few fingers and toes here and there every year."

Looking thoroughly repulsed, Lucy allowed her upset to shine on her features as her fingers upped their tremble on the edges of his duster.

He wasn't kidding.

Unable to fathom just how terrible that would have been as her mind raced with questions about things like food and air, the expression on Lucy's face was open as she worked through that revelation.

"Cooper," clearly unsure how to respond, Lucy went with her gut reaction, "that's awful."

Not quite able to argue that point, Cooper simply grunted in acknowledgement.

"Could have been worse. He threatened to take my cock once. Bastard." Cooper spat on the floor, tilting his head away from his body.

Again offset by the casualness of the violence he had been subjected to, Lucy couldn't tell if he was now joking or not as his stoic expression held her own without flinching. But hold her gaze he did, his eyes flashing as she stared him out with something almost like pity.

Revolted at the thought of being seen in such a light, Cooper felt a wave of weariness pass through his frame with such a pressing determination that he audibly shuddered and adjusted his upper body against the kitchen wall - sensing that if he didn't take a small nap that his body would make the choice for him anyway as it fought to start the healing process.

"Take this." Handing off his gun to her, Cooper remained reclined against the wall but Lucy could tell that he was ready to pass out as she sat back from him and held his gun in her hands. "And shoot anything that walks through those doors. Don't hesitate, vaultie, or we're both fucked."

Accepting his instructions with a nod, Lucy took the hint and backed further off his position, allowing him the space he was unspokenly asking for.

x-x-x-x-x

Blinking at his reflection in the mirror, the sinking feeling which Cooper felt within his gut as he observed the familiar bathroom around him told him he was dreaming. This bathroom had been lost before the bombs, taken by Barb in the divorce as he had been forcibly ejected from his own home by Vault Tec lawyers who were more prepared than his own sleazeball lawyer could ever hope to be.

Feet treading a familiar path as hell settled in his gut, a cruel mixture of nostalgia and pain making his legs feel weighted, Cooper turned to leave the bathroom and trudge down the stairs to his sitting room. His own steeled gaze meeting him from the posters which littered the walls, he caught his reflection in one of the panes and the textured leather of his skin felt hot under the sudden scrutiny.

The ghosts of laughter, the faint footfalls of Janey sprinting across the hallways as he chased her, assaulted him and the ache in Cooper's heart grew so intense for a moment that he pressed his wrist over his chest. Stairs creaked under his weight as he descended and his every instinct knew what he would find in the sitting room before he even turned the corner.

Inhaling steadily, he faced his demons.

And there she was.

"Barb." A gut punch as ever, the sight of her sparked a wretched feeling in Cooper's chest; shattered love and primal hate making his heart uptick in tempo once more as he curled his roughened hands into fists.

"Cooper." Barb replied in kind, her dark skin standing out beautifully against the light sundress which cinched around her waist before flowing out to her knees. "You still here looking for me, sweetie? After all this time?"

"Not looking." Cooper snarled, immediately firing off on the offense. "Hunting you down." Unwilling to allow himself any weakness he steeled his spine and drew to fullest height. "To get what's mine and punish all of you for the shit you pulled and the hell you wrought. And that includes you, Barb. What you did."

"What I did?" Laughing breezily as her beautiful white teeth flashed in her mouth, Barb shook her head at him. "You mean, what we did? You knew what was going to happen, Coop. You knew what they were going to do and you did nothing to stop us."

Cooper spat on the floor.

"Horseshit. I couldn't do an-"

"You took the easy way out. Stayed quiet for Janey and look where that got you. A horrible monster, all alone in the world because he was too afraid to speak up and try to help anyone."

"The mighty jerk-offs of Vault-Tec vs one washed-up acting son of a bitch. What the fuck else was gonna happen? I spoke out, I got taken out. Best thing I ever did was leave that den of fucking vipers."

Unbothered by the vitriol, Barb smiled at him with obvious placation as she made her points.

"You left her as well."

Flinching as though struck, Cooper denied the accusation hotly.

"No, you took her. From me. The one person who didn't want her locked up and hidden away in your perfect fucking utopia world that never existed."

"And look where she is now."

It was a cruel tease and Cooper couldn't stop his body from leaping at his ex-wife, determined to exact some kind of revenge, to feel her flesh beneath his fingers, before his brain caught up with his actions. Regardless, he found his hands grasping at nothing as Barb's voice shifted to speak from somewhere behind him.

"Not going to work, Coop."

Cooper whirled towards the source of her new position and found her lounging against the large bay windows which led out to their garden.

"It's your fault as much as mine. This was our dream."

As Barb indicated a sweeping hand out the window, Cooper watched with horror as the plush garden fell away into ruin; trees withering in an instant to rotten, gnarled bark as the greenery shredded itself into reddened dust. In a blink, his garden was gone and replaced by the vastness of the wastelands.

His new home.

"We did it to build a better life for Janey."

"Fuck you, Barb. This wasn't our dream. You wouldn't even let me bring the fucking dog."

Still bitter about that despite the relentless hell which his life had dissolved into since, Cooper held his ground as he stared Barb down and continued.

"You took Janey away from me. From me. She was all- all I had left, Barb. All that you left me after I kept your cruel fucking secret."

"Our secret. That's why you see me, Coop. All that guilt and all that rage but you still love me-"

"Don't. Don't love you no more." Pain gnawing at his nerves, Cooper felt almost light-headed as he denied her accusations once more. "That feeling died when the first bomb hit the ground and I had to scoop up our daughter and run."

"So why are you still chasing me then? Two hundred years and you've never stopped. Not even with this new, pretty little thing by your side."

Barb dissolved in a blink before materialising before him and Cooper found his hands locked around her throat before he could think too much about it. Her mention of Lucy was strange. In all his decades of nightmares, his demons had never shifted from their focus and the off-hand comment unsettled him greatly as he squeezed his fingers into Barb's neck - rage and pain making his arms tremble in place as her smile never shifted once.

"Are you going to kill me, Coop?"

"For Janey. For what you took from her."

"I did it for her."

"For taking ME from her."

Barb's smirking face melted away to be replaced by an encroaching darkness and Cooper felt a childish fear seize his heart as he realised he could barely move as his wrists and feet struck out against solid wood.

The coffin.

Stale air filled his lungs as his breathing quickly grew erratic, his throat feeling hot with a shocking speed due to the quick inhales of trapped dirt and terror, and his hands moved of their own accord as they slammed against the heavy wood which trapped him in place with a frantic desperation.

Unable to articulate his words, something raw and guttural tore free of his lips as his blows did nothing but dislodge some of the dirt which had settled in the cracks of the wood and it fell to his face as he spluttered and twisted away from it as much as possible.

Panic clawed at his chest. Memories and nightmares. The constant shifting of the darkness as it swallowed him making him writhe and kick out against the wood despite the pain in sparked in his toes. A sharp pain in his hand alerted him to the IV which steadily pumped chem into his trapped body - a cruel insurance that he would remain conscious and aware of his fate as his stomach cramped from the hunger and his lips withered to cracked lines, desperate for water.

"Fuck. Fuck. Fuck! Can't fuckin- won't do this again."

His hat feeling claustrophobic against his head, Cooper tilted his head back enough to knock it free of his scalp as his lips continued to spill panicked pleas and hot tears threatened the very corners of his eyes.

"No. Fuck. C'mon. Not again. Let me the fuck outta here you sons of bitches. Fucking cocksuckers!"

But as much as he screamed, he was met with only silence as his frenzied hysteria refused to let up.

x-x-x-x-x

Awoken from her own disturbed nap by a sharp noise which jerked her eyes open, Lucy was quick to snap into alertness as she felt the gun in her hand and remembered her duty to keep threats at bay. She raised the gun to the door, ready to take the shot, but found nothing, only an empty space. The same noise startled her again and she glanced around to realise that it was coming from her travelling companion.

Cooper's body was still propped up where she had left it but whatever peace had found him in his initial sleep had abandoned him, leaving something much more distressing in its wake.

A nightmare.

In the vaults, nightmares were common even though no one dared to mention them. Some of the older members would dream of the famines, of the struggle to survive as others dropped dead around them with paper thin skin and jutting bones marking them for death.

Rarely did anyone share what haunted them in their sleep and rarer still did anyone ask.

But still, Lucy felt something in her chest clench as she took in the genuine upset which lined Cooper's face as his breath came in short pants and his mouth twisted with each whimper. Dropping to her haunches, Lucy gently placed her hand on his shoulder as she attempted to jostle him into consciousness.

"Cooper, hey. Get up. You're having a nightmare."

A horrid noise escaped him, something animalistic, and Lucy recoiled for a moment before steeling herself and shaking him with a little more vigour.

"Cooper!"

His eyes snapped open in a flash and Lucy barely had time to crack her lips into a soothing smile before the shit hit the fan.

Cooper's hand moved even more quickly than she could have anticipated as sharp pain exploded across Lucy's jaw - the sudden blow forcing her from her feet and back onto her ass. Falling awkwardly due to the unexpectedness of the assault, her elbow collided with the floor and she yelped as hot pain blossomed from the site. Cooper's attack continued without mercy as he followed her fallen frame like a predatory animal, his body pressing down atop her as his unseeing eyes were still haunted by whatever terrors had disturbed his sleep.

Hands jerking up to lock around her throat, the strength in the digits truly frightened her and Lucy kicked her legs against the floor as she fought valiantly for breath. Tears sprang into her eyes as her vision blurred. Her hair trapped beneath her head, the strands burned as they pulled free and she swung her face from side to side in a vain attempt to escape his hands.

His strength was incredible, she knew that from the way he so easily handled her from her use as gulper bait to the way he threw her around and adjusted her during sex. But this, this was terrifying in its aggression.

He was going to kill her.

The pressure of his thumbs on his windpipe made it impossible for her to do anything but wheeze and struggle to pull in air; not to mention that the pain of his fingertips digging in to her neck felt like fire as his unkempt nails locked into the skin at the back of her neck to keep her pinned.

Thrashing, Lucy was able to free her hand enough to sink her own nails viciously into the fingers choking her and tear off a good chunk of the skin there as it peeled back from his roughened hide. Grunting, the pain seemed to bring some kind of awareness back into Cooper's thoughts and his eyes widened in open shock as his hands went slack around her throat in an instant.

Lucy coughed and spluttered as her windpipe was released, a fat tear rolling down her heated cheek as the pressure build up in her head from the lack of oxygen made her vision darken dangerously for a moment. Her abused throat felt like hell, every grateful gulp of air feeling like acid as it burned its way down to her lungs.

Atop her, Cooper appeared frozen in place - his hands hanging in the air as he stared between them and Lucy, an open look of distress making his expressive eyes widen as clarity sparked a cruel combination of guilt and rage.

"Lucy."

Even through her struggle, Lucy startled as Cooper used her name. Her real name. Not her surname and not some stupid nickname he had whipped up to make fun of her.

Her name.

Still unable to truly speak, the weight of Cooper rolling off her body drew a fresh wheeze from Lucy's lungs as she quickly raised up to her elbows - a sharp pain jolting in the elbow she had fallen on as she quickly switched to sitting up fully to take the pressure off.

Cooper stood, his leather duster whirling out around his legs as a vague flinch overtook him, his stomach wound making itself known once more with a flare of pain.

Silence hung between them, only broken by the odd, rattling cough from Lucy as she continued to try and settle her racing thoughts. The look which Cooper fixed her with, guilt and anger laced with a sorrow which made her heart feel tight, made her want to say something but no words would come.

Thankfully, Cooper broke the lull.

"This was a mistake."

His voice so low that Lucy had to strain her hearing to pick him up, Cooper gestured to their individual packs as they sat off to the side. Nothing existed in his tone, the empty huskiness of it refusing to be hidden behind his accent.

"Take what you need to make it to your daddy in one piece. Hell, take what the fuck you want and don't think twice about what you're leaving. When I come back and you're gone, I won't look for you. Better to try and make it yourself, Lucy Maclean."

And with that, Cooper stumbled towards the door - his injury making him slower than he would have liked - and he left, his exit leaving Lucy on the floor with a crestfallen expression.

x-x-x-x-x

Sleep eluded Lucy as she paced the kitchen, her feet wearing a thin track through some of the accumulated dust in the floor.

Cooper had been gone for over an hour and in that time her mind had went through every possible situation and explanation of what the hell had just happened.

He didn't mean to hurt her, that much she was sure of.

His eyes, so bright and vivid against his reddened skin, had been as shocked as her own as awareness of his assault dawned in them. And then the guilt which pooled within them left her no doubt that he wasn't fully aware of his actions. But still, her throat ached and if it weren't for the luck of her injuring his hand, he would have probably killed her, and that would be the end to her story.

No finding her dad again.

No revenge.

No changing the world.

Just a broken girl who left the world she knew to do nothing but kill her own mother and be left to rot on a kitchen floor.

Scolding herself at the depressive thought, Lucy pinched her own wrist as she tutted aloud.

"I think he would at bury me." She muttered to no one, the words carrying across the kitchen.

Cooper may have been a son of a bitch when it suited him but he did have a code of honour that she consistently saw leak through his merciless actions. He would have at least buried her and that thought didn't bring as much comfort as she hoped it would.

He didn't mean to hurt me.

A traitorous voice and one that she clung to with a selfishness that surprised her. Cooper had hurt her, really hurt her this time, but that didn't take away from the moments of softness which she shielded her mind with. The gentle touches of his calloused hands as they stroked along her softer skin. The way his weight enveloped her and protected her from the worst of the world around them as they fucked. The comfort he had given her after her brief kidnapping by those traffickers.

Why are you protecting him?

With just as much ferocity, the less savoury moments assaulted her. The burn of the toxic water in her lungs as he dropped her repeatedly into the lake as bait. The searing, white-hot pain of her hand as he carved her finger from her and took it for himself. The fear which made her feel like a little girl again as he sold her off into what she assumed was sexual slavery.

We would be better without him.

The thought curled in her mind but it was rejected with a harshness which caught her breath in her lungs as the reality of her situation presented itself in a stunning moment of clarity.

She didn't want to be alone again.

Even with his bad traits, her travels with Cooper were heaven compared to the pressing pain and anxiety at the thought of having to traverse the wastelands alone.

Cooper's wicked comments, his ability to rile her unmatched by anyone else she had ever met, gave her a companionship that allowed her to push back and express thoughts and aggression which her vault family would have recoiled at.

Cooper's lessons, as unnecessarily cruel and upsetting as they could be, had made her a better survivor and someone much more prepared to succeed in her goals as she hunted down her father.

Cooper's body, hot and textured against her own as they fought off the loneliness of their world with some physical pleasures, gave her something solid to focus on as the guilt of her choices - of killing her mother - threatened to swallow her whole in her darkest moments.

No.

She wouldn't be alone again.

Even if that meant having to be more careful when waking Cooper up from his nightmares.

As though sensing that Lucy's thoughts were encased by him, a click of an opening door announced Cooper's return as Lucy paused in her pacing and stood to face the entrance to the kitchen which she knew he would have to pass through. His footfalls heavy, Cooper's approach was marked by the thud of his boots and, as he turned the corner into the kitchen, his breath audibly hitched as he hesitated within the doorway for only a moment before striding through.

He stood away from her, a long-suffering sigh making his chest visibly sag as he took in her standing position - his hat tilted back while his bright eyes flicked between Lucy's face and the red markings which littered her neck, the bruising not quite beginning to show.

"Still here?"

Despite the audible disappointment, Lucy swore she saw the vaguest flash of relief pass through Cooper's features and it steeled her spine as she smiled softly at him - her recent revelation bolstered by his appearance as it sparked a fondness in her chest which she refused to question.

"Cooper, I don't blam-"

In an instant, he was up in her face again and Lucy hated herself for flinching as the smell of leather and copper assaulted her nose - his scent as familiar and alluring as ever as he spoke to her harshly.

"Hit me."

"What?"

"Hit me." Cooper grabbed at her hand and curled her fingers into a fist with an almost desperate pressure. "Beat my ass to the ground. I won't fight you back. Not this time."

"I don't und-"

That same desperation flashed in his eyes for a blink before being shut off and hidden away as all of his emotions quickly were.

"Knock me down until your hands are as bloodied as mine, vaultie."

"Cooper, I don't want t-"

"An eye for an eye. Do unto others, thats your golden rule, eh? So fucking hit me. Don't make me ask again."

His voice taking on an even more aggressive edge, Cooper's grip on her fist lessened when Lucy placed her other hand atop his.

"I don't want to hurt you."

"Everyone wants to hurt everyone up here. One way or another."

Lucy raised her hand and relief flooded Cooper's chest as he steeled his body against the blow. She deserved to even the score and he would take whatever she wanted to throw at him.

The smack wasn't to come though, as Lucy stroked her fingers along his jaw instead - her motion almost experimental as she trailed the roughened skin with a determined gentleness.

"I saw you. Heard the nightmare. I saw that you didn't mean to hurt me like that." Lucy soothed, pressing her chest against his own as she gazed up at him with her big, dark eyes. "I don't want to hurt you. I could- but I am choosing not to. Not everything is about coming out on top of other people."

Stunned into silence as something in her words struck a part of him that hadn't been questioned in far too long. Cooper fell back onto his heels as he stared her out. She was serious in her meaning, earnestness dripping for her features as she fought to prove the honest of her words.

He should have known better.

Lucy Maclean wouldn't take the opportunity that other people would kill for; a chance to put the infamous ghoul to the floor and do to him some of the terrible things which he had enacted on others.

This woman didn't choose violence as a reflex.

This woman had taken his unwilling brutality and chosen to forgive him rather than even the score.

This woman saw the wastelands for what they were and wanted to save everyone she could, regardless of how foolish that was.

This woman would have never dropped a bomb on this world.

That knowledge stabbing something in his chest that his recent nightmare had exposed, Cooper's slackened mouth pulled into a tight line to soothe the fear that he would do or say something personal that he would later regret opening up. Instead, he reached up his hand and trailed his ungloved fingers across the nasty marks which he had left on her throat.

"Then accept my apologies, Lucy Maclean. I don't make a habit of strangling pretty young things."

"I don't think you've ever apologised to me before." Lucy replied, allowing him to touch her neck - to see that she was okay and willing to move on as she kept her voice even.

Curiosity about his nightmare nipped at her thoughts, but this wouldn't be the right time to ask about it.

She knew that much.

But she filed the questions away for later.

Much like she filed away how softly his lips had wrapped around her name as he breathed it with repentance.

Lucy.

"I ain't had much to apologise for." Cooper answered in kind.

Frowning as her own hands trailed across his abdomen to ghost across the stitches she had sewn into his wound, Lucy was pleased to find that his messy movements hadn't torn any of them free.

"Mmm, I'm not sure about that one, Mr Ghoul."

Part 1

Part 2

Part 3

Part 4

Part 5

Part 6

#cannot believe this has ended up over 5k lmaoo #vaultghoul #ghoulcy #cooper x lucy #lucy x cooper #cooper howard #lucy maclean #fallout #fallout tv series #fallout tv show #fallout fanfic #fallout fic #cooper howard x lucy maclean

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lovingseventeen · 1 year

Note

Hi!! Hope you are doing well!!

I absolutely love your account.

I was wondering whether you could write a scenario with svt where the boys realize they are in love.

svt realizing they’re in love ˚ ༘♡ ⋆｡˚

a/n: hi! and thank you for this request! i’m so so sorry this took so long for me to get out. i always had this in the back of my mind and i’ve been thinking about so many scenarios for the boys.. i hope it’s better late than never.. also SORRy this is a day later than i promised, school got in the way

also trying a slightly different format because the bullet points occasionally make the posts so long.. BUT ALSO ALSO: thank you for 800!!

(established relationships unless stated otherwise)

seungcheol:

he knew he liked you for the longest time, but love was another word that was so big, so strong, it intimidated him to even think of it. but he knew when he realized he was always looking for you

he was driving home and everything he passed by, his thoughts connected them to you a bakery? y/n’s birthday is coming up, i should surprised them with a cake. a billboard for a new movie? would y/n want to go see that? the trailer looked good.. a park? is that the same one we went to when y/n made that bento? even a convenience store: y/n better not be eating ramen again..

jeonghan:

it's when he sees that you don't fall so easily for his pranks. he knows you're on the same wavelength as him, truly his other half.

you're at the airport about to take your first trip together. "baby i forgot our passports at home" he suddenly tells you, pretending to rummage through his backpack.

you look back at him with a half smile, "no you didn't, you're just being silly. c'mon we have to start checking in now." he's smiling back at you even if his little prank didn't work. as he follows you from behind, he feels a little shift in his feelings for you. ah, is this what they mean about love? he wonders.

joshua:

it's when the two of you are in the car and you're singing (half-yelling). he's humming along to parts that he recognizes as he drives, but not without stealing glances to see you passionately belt out every single word.

it's at a red light that he looks over to you and at the same time, you're enthusiastically bumping along to the rhythm in your seat. you point to him as you sing along to some cheesy lyric about being in love except to him, it's not cheesy at all. instead, he feels his heart skip a beat when he realizes he loves you.

jun:

it's so simple, really. this one time, he makes this opera voice to you as he laid out options for dinner.

"so we can order from our usual or try that new place nearby that just opened up~~" he asked, trilling his voice in random places dramatically.

you think out loud, humming, but then replying in the same silly manner as you choose. "i think we can try the new place~~" you sing back, making your voice two octaves lower. you're both laughing after but his smile feels a little deeper to him and he wonders if this feeling is what he thinks it is.

hoshi:

hoshi has never run from his feelings, he's always embraced them.

it's when he picks you up for a date and sees the skip in your step to greet him. you fall into his arms for your usual hug but with a little more accidental momentum.

he laughs as he catches you, "hi pretty" he smiles. your arms are wrapped around his middle and your face is so close to his as you're smiling back at him just as big. this is when he knows. "i love you, you know" he declares, kissing your cheek.

wonwoo:

one night where he can’t sleep, he figured he really needs to hear your voice. he accidentally disregards the time, not realizing he’s been awake for so long and that it’s three am. you pick up your phone after couple rings (it took you a moment to wake up).

“hello?” you asked, voice muddled with sleep. he can't help but feel some kind of relief, some kind of comfort so specific to you.

“i just wanted to hear your voice."

"right now?" you can't help but ask. this is where he checks his phone and realizes how late it actually is.

"oh, i'm sorry" he almost whispers.

"is everything okay?" your concern warmed him.

"yeah, yeah, everything's fine," he assures you, almost whispering those three words so late into the night. "go back to sleep, love." he's never really used that pet name, but he figures it'll have to do for now.

woozi:

it hits him where he spends the most time: his studio. the last two weeks or so he hasn't been able to see you and he's been starting to feel bad. he tries to text you when he can, but he still replies hours later or not at all. somehow, his schedule was arranged down to the hour.

yet you managed to drop off food for him at the hybe building occasionally, brightening his day even a little bit. he was always in the middle of something else, whether it be a dance practice, a going seventeen shoot, a photoshoot, recording, or producing. so it was always a manager or an assistant taking the food from you to bring up to him.

when jihoon finally gets a day off, he's almost rushing to see you. he almost expects you to look unexcited, or even mad, but he's surprised to see you simply happy. he takes you out to lunch and as you wait for your meal, he blurts out what he feels is a necessary apology.

"sorry for what?" you looked back at him, puzzled.

he's caught off guard at your confusion. "um, for not really being around the last two weeks," a nervous hand comes up behind his head, "i feel like i didn't reach out enough."

you take his hand, "weren't you just working? it's a busy time right now, isn't it?"

"well yeah, but still-"

"baby i wouldn't have agreed to dating you if i would have a problem with your schedule," you assured him, "as long as we're still trying with each other, we'll be fine."

"i still feel bad," he sighs, taking your hand in both of his.

"baby, i wouldn't want you to worry about us on top of all of your responsibilities," you tell him. "i'm really okay, honestly, and if anything ever comes up, i'll promise to talk to you."

he sees the genuine look of understanding from your eyes as you sit across from him. he feels his heart hammering in his chest and it's like he's been brought to the months where we was just falling for you. but this time, it's much grander and he knows it's love.

dokyeom:

he knew he was in love the first time he made you laugh. he's probably the one member who would realize it before you were officially dating.

you held onto his arm as you laughed, shaking your head as his antics and this is when he knew. you looked at him with the warmest smile and he was already falling.

far into the future people will ask him when he knew you were the one and he'll be the kind to remember all the details of this encounter: the hoodie that you were wearing, how your hair looked, the joke he was telling, etc.

mingyu:

so you took him to one of those sip and paint cafes so the two of you could have pottery in your home with a personal touch. mingyu is also quite artistic so it would be fun. everything is going smoothly until his large hands accidentally knock over the water cup meant for rinsing your paintbrushes. then as he's trying to quickly clean up, the paintbrush that he set down accidentally touches his mug, ruining his image.

he's whining after ruining his piece, but you assure him that it's still fine. you laugh a little, encouraging that he can probably try to fix it. but, even with an attempt to correct his mistake, the little puppy that he painted is still awkward-looking.

he feels like you're just trying to comfort him when you tell him that you actually adore it. after your pieces are fired, and you're allowed to bring them home, he sees you use his mug. he sees you continue to use his mug with his painting on it weeks after too.

one day you're sipping from it and glancing at the slightly chubby puppy on its front. you smile at it fondly as you hold the cup, "i really love this, you know," you chuckle, finger tracing the puppy's cheeks.

he almost has to stop himself from blurting out, "well i love you." when he catches that thought, he realizes.

minghao:

hao realized he was in love when you went to travel to another country for a week. you sent him pictures from museums you visited of artwork you thought he would appreciate. you sent him food you ordered at a local restaurant, texting him: i'll bring you here one day because you'd like this! or we're coming back to this.

when you finally return form your trip, he helps you unpack and settle back in. however, what you're excited for is showing him everything you brought back for him.

"so i got you a couple things."

one of his hands is coming up to pat your head lovingly, "you didn't have to but thank you." he sits across you as you eagerly open up your suitcase and begin you little haul.

"so i got you this top at this local store there because the mesh has this slightly distressed feeling and you usually look good in these."

"then there were these little pins that i thought would be cute if we had matching ones."

"oh! there's this ring i found at a flea market and it reminded me of your usual jewelry!"

"and the last thing was.. drumroll please," you request and he starts patting his thighs to oblige, "some tea i thought you might want to try."

he's smiling as he picks up and examines the items you got him. when he notices you looking at him expectedly, asking him, "so what do you think?"

he knows it and he can't hold back, "i think i love you."

seungkwan:

he knows it when you tease him and he can't even find it in himself to get annoyed. you two probably have a series on ongoing jokes that neither of you can count.

where he'd usually get annoyed or whiny if one of his members teased him, he can't help but just look at you with adoration and you tease him with that smile. you're lightly teasing him, even bringing your face up close to his and all he can think of is kissing you.

"you're lucky i can't get mad at you," he rolls his eyes.

"you love me," you replies casually, not giving it much thought as you walk away from him.

"yeah maybe i do" he replies in a voice so low you don't hear him.

vernon:

sometimes you'd ask him if he wanted to do something random. so far you've made him watch that very weird indie movie, various weird food trends, and even pole dancing (he genuinely gave it his best effort). you'd ask him if he wanted to go with you on these mini adventures and no matter how weird, he'd usually say yes.

so one day, you ask him if he wants to try this new viral ice cream dessert that's been trending. even though some of these ventures have gotten you both to try underwhelming food, he still says sure.

as you're sitting in the shop, he watches you look at the donut and ice cream monstrosity in anticipation. "ok here i go," you announce, making sure to get a little bit of everything to get that 'perfect bite.'

"how is it?" he asks you, only to smile when your eyes light up. so it's a good food adventure day.

"oh my gosh, i think i just found my new favorite thing ever" you mumble with the ice cream in your mouth.

he watches as you push the dessert towards him, encouraging him to try it too. while he thinks that it's just a fine dessert, he could feel full watching you eat. ultimately, he feels happy that you're happy, and this is where he realizes.

dino:

in recent days his schedule had been so packed that he could barely see you, even more so since they had a comeback.

of course, he can't let his slight burn out show while he performs, but he can't ignore the weight on his heart. but still, he puts his best foot forward and gets up on stage.

what he isn't ready for is seeing you in the front of the crowd with a headband with his name on his. you've even come with one of those fans with his face on it.

the fans start cheering as they get in formation for the song and he feels recharged knowing you're in the audience. their song opens and he glances at you and sees that you're even participating in the fanchant. he knows his name is last and looks at you as you scream his name the loudest, giving him a wink too.

he feels alive and comforted. his new energy makes the song fly by without mistake and soon enough someone is already giving the camera their ending fairy. his eyes find you again and sees you blow him a kiss that makes his heart swell :')

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yandere-writer-momo · 1 year

Note

Yandere baki, Jack, katsumi, and maybe pickle with a reader who’s not interested in men and wants to be single?????

Yandere Baki Head Canons

Afab reader who isn’t interested in men

All characters are aged up

Minors DNI

Noncon (pickle), dubcon, and uncomfortable themes

Baki Hanma

Is confused on why you’re not interested in dating him. You won’t even acknowledge him and his confession. What do you mean you’re wanting to explore the world alone?

You’re a traveler who Baki thought was super pretty. A backpacker of sorts. He doesn’t understand why you want to travel the world alone so young. Don’t you know the world is dangerous?

He’s endless in his pursuit of you. He asks you out constantly until you do accept. You two go out for a drinks and it all falls apart then

It’s a mistake on your part to let him into your bed after one too many drinks. The broken bed frame was evidence of what you had done. Not to mention all the love marks on your neck. What happened?

You’re so confused when Baki informs you that you two were now in a relationship. That you accepted him since you two had sex. You try to tell him you don’t remember what had happened that night but he crawls on top of you and tells you, “then we’ll have a replay of last night.”

The man is a sex god. You’re moaning and screaming and he’s smiling into every kiss. Doesn’t he make you feel great? Why would you want to leave Japan when you can be here with him and feel such pleasure? You can be so safe in his arms

Baki presses a kiss to your forehead and tells you this is your home now. The two of you can travel together. You’re too exhausted to even try to fight him

Jack Hanma

You two were friends with benefits and he’s the one who fell in love. You both found each other on an app for hookups and you two came to an agreement of no strings attached. But Jack loved being inside of you more and more… you were the only one able to handle him. And you gave him a key to your place for heaven’s sake. How could you not like him? He made you come undone in seconds over and over. You told him no one has ever satisfied you like he has

You start to notice how he’s gentler in the bedroom and how he’s pressing kisses all over your body instead of bite marks. How his hands gripped your skin like a lifeline instead of like a flesh light. How he would stay in the morning to hold you and how he would make you breakfast. How he would whisper about how you were his… it was starting to scare you

Your toes are curled and you back is arched as he’s so deep inside of you. You didn’t even think it was possible for someone to reach so deeply in you but all you could ever feel was Jack whenever you two got into it. How good he made you feel. How full you were..

After the deed is done, you inform him that you do not desire a relationship of any kind with him. That’s when he tells you he’s in love with you. That you’re always on his mind and he can’t think of anyone else but you. He wants a life with you

It’s then that you start to feel morning sickness. Jack holds your hair back with a smile. That’s when he admits he threw out your birth control. That he was afraid of your rejection of his love for you

You start to cry but Jack kisses your head. You’re going to be stuck with him for life

Orochi Katsumi

Now you used to have feelings for him. You used to pursue him and you’d watch him train everyday and even be at all of his tournaments… he never reciprocated your feelings because he was young and stupid. It was when you finally gave up that he began to pursue you

He missed you cheering for him, writing him sweet notes, the warm homemade meals, and always smiling at him. You ignored every man for him and he so coldly rejected all of your advances for years but now your face is on every billboard in Japan. You became a famous singer and it consumes him in guilt

You ignore him now. You inform the world how you decided to give up on love and how you were going to enjoy the single life to the fullest. Katsumi pursues you now but you don’t beat around the bush. You coldly reject him. You throw his flowers back at him, you rip up his notes, and you throw all of his invitations to his tournaments in the trash in front of him. You inform him you want nothing to do with him anymore

He breaks into your house to see you. He beat up your security guards just so he can hold you. He doesn’t care that you’re kicking and screaming. Don’t you see how perfectly you fit in his arms?

He doesn’t listen to your pleas to stop. He’s pressing his body against yours on your mattress. You’ll want this… you still love him. He knows you do

He cries when he’s inside of you for the first time. The blood dripping from between your legs makes him so happy that you saved yourself for him. He’s kissing away all your tears as he continues thrusting into you. He loves you so much. He’ll never mistreat you again. He goes for several rounds with you that night until he’s sure his seed takes

He’s so happy you accept his marriage proposal. Your childhood love for him has now turned into fear but his heart was completely aflame for yours. He was so happy to take this next step in life with you, the one you always wanted with him! He just doesn’t understand why you don’t smile at him anymore… he can change that

Pickle

He doesn’t understand anything. He’s a caveman who just understands that he wants to breed you

He might try to court you with dead animals and bring you back strange gifts. Probably things he’s stolen

It won’t be long for him to just take what he wants. He doesn’t care that you scream at him. If Pickle wants you and he’ll have you

#baki hanma #baki the grappler #baki x reader #yandere imagine #yandere #yandere fic #baki son of ogre #female reader #kaoru hanayama #jack hanma #Baki #yandere baki #baki dou #baki the grappler x reader #grappler baki #baki kaoru hanayama #baki headcanons #katsumi orochi #pickle baki

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ggukkiedae · 9 months

Text

miya

[3:30am kst, 231217, wc: 620] [cw: jonghyun (read at your own discretion)]

(from c: i miss jonghyun loads. words can't explain. he has been one of my longest running role models, and i just really wish he's happy and at peace making music for all the angels and stars up there with our moon)

Yoonmi never felt lonelier.

Her members, her brothers, her constants were all in the military, and she had restricted access to communication with them. In fact, she wouldn’t be able to contact four of them for a few weeks at all. Her siblings by blood and on paper were both busy, and her boyfriend just arrived in the country and was probably tired.

She sighed to herself as she looked over to her photowall, a floor to ceiling section filled almost completely with photos, one catching her attention in particular.

Sitting up gently to keep from startling her pets, she approached one specific photo. One of her and someone she used to always go to for advice or comfort when she couldn’t ask her members.

“Hey, Rajah,” she looked at her kitten, “there’s someone I want you to meet.”

The small kitten just looked at her curiously, patiently letting her owner pick her up. After getting her kitten in a sweater and herself in sweatpants and a coat, Yoonmi grabbed her helmet and the body harness for her pets and made for her motorcycle.

The drive was cold.

There was no other way to describe it. It was the middle of December, the beginning of winter, but she didn’t care. Those thirty minutes she spent driving to him would always be worth it.

She silently greeted the security guard, one she grew familiar with over the years, and handed him a pack of brownies as she placed her helmet on her motorcycle. She knew the security guard would guard it like he always did. After a deep breath, Yoonmi walked past the gates.

It was a minute walk before she reached her destination, the person she wanted to see. With a smile, she sat down across from him and gave him a smile.

“Jonghyun oppa,” she bowed her head to his resting place in respect, “I feel like I’ve been bothering you too often, but you know you’re one of my safe people.”

She gently lay a brownie piece on her handkerchief and placed it by him. “I know I’m a day earlier than you probably expected, but I brought brownies! Though I will have to take this piece back when I leave. I don’t really want to litter.”

A laugh escaped her lips as she gently began to unfasten the harness around her torso. Small mewls filled the air as Rajah was shaken out of her comfortable position.

“Oppa,” she showed off the kitten, “this is my new baby, Rajah. Rajah, that’s Uncle Jonghyun. Isn’t she cute, oppa? Jimin oppa got her for me so I wouldn’t be too lonely over their enlistment period.”

She sighed as she set Rajah down, watching as the cat curled up just under Jonghyun’s name. “I made it through the SHINee oppas and their military service, but this is different, you know? I’ve had the oppas with me almost every day for the past thirteen years, and now all seven of them are going to be away for so long.”

“I guess I feel lonely.” A sad smile made its way to her face. “Especially because everyone’s so busy… I know you are, too, but you’re right here with me, right?”

Something, she didn’t know what (or maybe she did), prompted her to look up. Right in her field of view, a star shone brighter than the others. Maybe she deluded herself into thinking it had a slight pearlescent aqua hue.

“Thank you,” she smiled back at him, petting Rajah slightly and taking out a small paper slower she had made from her backpack and placing it next to his name. “I miss you lots, Jonghyun oppa. I hope you’re happy up there.”

taglist: @sunflower-0180 @seaoffangirling @yourwonderbelle @1-800-enhypennabi @kamiiyou @strwberrydinosaur @uraveragefangirlsposts @caratinylyfe @1-800-minji @one16core @kimhyejin3108 @chansols @akshverse @toriluvsfics @billboard-singer @stopeatread @allthings-fandoms

drop an ask or a dm if you wanna be added or taken out of the taglist 🥰 requests are also open!

#will probably upload yoonmi with the tannies tomorrow #i miss the tannies too #i hope they’re safe #yoonmi.timestamp #yoonmi.shinee #miya #yoonmi #kim yoonmi #bts 8th member #bts female member #bts female addition

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honey-crypt · 3 months

Text

KEEPER OF THE GLISTENING SEA — a merman!elliott x plus-sized!reader story

00. A NEW BEGINNING

word count: 1.3k

warnings: none

summary: an offer of free housing and a job has you relocating to the remote area of stardew valley, once a beloved summer getaway you spent with family. with your cousin as your guide, you find yourself in a land of new opportunities. what does the valley hold for you?

author’s note: hi!! thanks for checking out the start of my series, i’ve trying to get back into the swing of fanfic writing so lemme know if i make any oops, okay? also for clarification, benny is the farmer (your older cousin, the one to inherit the farm) and uses he/they pronouns

You leaned your head against the bus window, letting the vibrations hum against your skull while you stared outside. The once bustling and hustling landscape of ZuZu City faded into bright mountains and tall trees. A few blue jays flew by and landed on a billboard; slowly passing by, you managed to make out the words written in a vibrant purple ink:

Welcome to Stardew Valley!

The more time passed on the bus, the more green the world around you became. Soon, the bus came to a halt and its creaky doors swung open, “Stardew Valley! This is the stop for Stardew Valley!” the bus driver shouted to the passengers.

You grabbed your suitcase and backpack before standing up, careful not to bump your head on the overhead compartment above you. It seemed that you were the only one getting off, as the other passengers remained idle on the bus. You gave the bus driver a small smile of gratitude and hopped off the bus.

The only sounds that greeted you was that of birds chirping and from the rushing water of a nearby stream. You watched quietly when the bus pulled away from the stop and continued its journey towards the next stop. It was official, you made it to the valley.

“(Y/N)!” a cheerful voice called out to you, “Is that you? (Y/N)!”

You whipped your head around and saw a familiar person jogging towards you. They wore typical farmer attire, a red tee under muddy overalls and worn out work boots. As they got closer to you, you could make out their bottle green eyes and sun-kissed cheeks, a grin slowly forming on your face.

“Benny!” you exclaimed. You released your grip on your suitcase and embraced Benny, your cousin. The two of you hugged one another as tight as possible, “(Y/N), I’m so glad you’re here,” murmured Benny. He soon broke away from the hug and grasped the handle of your suitcase, “I didn’t think you would come.”

“Yeah?” you questioned them. Benny nodded, “Yeah,” he smiled, “But let’s walk and talk, okay? I gotta show you your new place!”

Your cousin wheeled your suitcase towards the right, you took a moment to eye the environment to your left. A shiny oak sign stood proudly in the distance, the name Honey Grove Farm written in big black letters. Benny called out to you, “Hurry up, slowpoke!”

“I’m coming, I’m coming!” you yelled back with faux annoyance. You glanced at the sigh once more before catching up with Benny, crossing the dirt path into a cobblestone one. Brightly colored structures were positioned around the area, a few folks scattered about. Some were conserving among themselves, you caught a few words from the two middle-aged women doing so in the square. A few others passed by you and Benny, casting glances and exchanging whispers towards your direction. You furrowed your brow and frowned at their behavior, but Benny reassured you, “That’s what happened to me when I first moved here. There’s not many people living here so when someone new moves in, it always causes a commotion.”

You let out a hum of confirmation, trying your best to avoid making eye contact with those passing by. You continued walking with Benny until they stopped in front of a divide in the road, cobblestone turning to sand, “Welcome to the beach,” he chuckled softly before resuming his pace and crossing the divide.

Cautiously, you followed behind him, feeling the crackle of sand beneath your feet. Ocean breeze tickled your cheeks, a little smile creeping up on your lips when you remembered a few of the childhood memories made at this old beach. A flash of your younger self and a younger Benny danced across your vision, the distant sound of childish laughter ringing in your ears.

“I’m gonna need you to brace yourself,” your cousin’s voice caught your attention. Benny stopped and gestured to a modest but somewhat dilapidated cabin, “Me and a few folks in town tried our best to spruce it up before your arrival, but you’re not living in luxury or anything.”

“Surely, it can’t be bad,” you commented, hand on the doorknob, “Even if it is, I won’t be complaining. It’s free housing, after—” you opened the door, “—all?”

Well, Benny was right to say that you weren’t living in luxury, but you didn’t expect the inside to be so small. It reminded you of a studio apartment with the bedroom area connected to the living room/kitchen area. You stepped inside and examined your new home. Closest to you was what you considered as the living quarters; a gas stove, a fridge, and a pantry lined the walls while a small table and two chairs remained in the middle. Farther down, there was a bed made of pine wood with a matching end table, followed by a door to what you presumed to be the bathroom. Very… bare bones, you mused to yourself, as you took in the cabin’s lack of decor.

“Like I said, not living in luxury,” your cousin repeated to you, “Nonetheless, I’m here to help you get started,” he handed you a small envelope, similar to the one you received that prompted you to move out here. You opened the envelope and a few coins fell out, your eyes widening when you noticed that each coin read 5000G.

“That should be about 50000G,” stated Benny, “It should be enough for you to get food and other essentials for the next couple of weeks or so.”

“You didn’t have to give me this, Benny,” you spoke softly, face heating up, “I have money,” you fished out your wallet and checked its content, only to see that you had a few 1000G coins, minuscule to the amount of money Benny just provided you.

Your cousin placed a hand on your shoulder and smiled down at you, “Trust me, I could’ve given you a lot more than that but I didn’t want to bruise your ego,” you rolled your eyes playfully at that statement and Benny added, “Besides, we’re family, (Y/N). When I moved here two years ago, I only had 500G to my name and the first few weeks were the hardest. I didn’t want you to be in the same position.”

You returned the smile, “I appreciate you. I’m… I’m glad you still consider me as family, Ben.”

“I never stopped thinking of you as family,” they hummed, “Whatever happened back then is in the past, okay?”

You adverted your gaze, your shoulders drooping slightly. Benny rubbed your shoulder reassuringly, “Wanna know the best part about moving to the valley?”

“What is it?”

“You get a fresh start, a new beginning.”

As daylight shifted into moonlight, you found yourself mulling over your cousin’s words. You sat on the shore near the cabin, dressed in cozy pajamas and holding a cup of melatonin tea. You get a fresh start, Benny’s words echoed in your mind, a new beginning.

“A new beginning…” you mumbled to yourself before taking a sip from your cup. You found yourself growing drowsy, the sound of the waves as soothing as a lullaby. Yet, in the distance and among the dark waves, you noticed something out of place: a flash of red. You blinked and rubbed your eyes, it probably was a buoy, you reasoned with yourself.

Not wanting to fall asleep on the beach, you pushed yourself off the sand and made a beeline to your cabin. Gently, you closed the door behind you and headed to bed; after all, your first day of work was early in the morning. You continued to listen to the soft crashing of waves against the shore, letting it rock you off to sleep.

In the distance, another flash of red appeared across the waves, followed by the swishing of a matching tail. There was no buoy in sight, only the occasional appearance of red hair and a red tail

#honey crypt fics #stardew valley #sdv #stardew #sdv elliott #stardew valley elliott #stardew elliott #sdv elliott x reader #stardew elliott x reader #stardew valley elliott x reader #merman elliott #plus sized reader #chubby reader

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certifiedlovergirlsstuff · 1 year

Text

spider-woman

pairing: steve harrington x female!reader

WC: 3.3K

warnings: cursing, mentions of a cut and bruise, a very inaccurate way to stop a panic attack (i took inspiration from teen wolf, dont actually do that)

summary: everyone has secrets, but what happens when yours involves super powers and saving lives?

A/N: ive had this in my drafts since i started writing the byers-harrington story. trying to get better at posting more stories in between the series. shout to my lovely friend @alecmores who does all of the proof reading because i practically write blindly.

reblogs are appropriated if given💗💗

masterlist

“What the hell!”

“Steve!”

You were just coming home from a quiet night of patrolling the streets. Ensuring no one was hurt, stores weren’t being robbed, and animals were safe and fed. Although there was just one incident where it had to get physical, you ended up with a black eye and a slight cut to your abdomen, allowing blood to seep out, staining the frayed edges of your costume.

Once you had the perpetrator webbed up and got in contact with the police you made your way back to your apartment, fatigued grabbing at your eyelids, letting them flutter close for a few seconds before you snap them back open and barely miss ramming into a billboard sign or the side of a building.

You make it to your apartment window after midnight, trying to be as quiet as possible not knowing if Steve or Robin are home or asleep already. You push the frame up as slowly as possible since it likes to creak and groan if you move it too fast upwards. You slowly moved one leg through the frame, reaching for the ground, and then moved your other leg. When both feet were touching the ground you maneuvered your upper body under the frame, making sure you didn’t hit your head by moving up too fast.

When you were halfway through you grabbed your backpack from the fire escape and placed it right beside you before moving inside and standing up. Again, you slowly moved to close the window and then threw your curtains shut causing your room to become blacked out.

When you heard no movement coming from the hallway indicating that no one was home or heard you, you let out a sigh causing the slight cut to sting again. When you turned around heading towards your dresser wanting to be in regular clothes, you forgot that your backpack was placed right beside your feet allowing you to fall face-first onto the floor. You let out a cry because, hello dumbass you just smacked your face into the floor, maybe bruising your nose.

You then heard thundering steps coming from the hall, shocking you because it might be an intruder who heard you. The sound of running got louder coming towards your bedroom's direction causing your spidey senses to tingle, bringing you to attack ready with your web shooters pointed at your door preparing for the intruder. Your door was thrown open and without hesitation, you activated your shooters, webbing the intruder from moving any further, stopping them in their spot.

You heard the thump of their body meeting the floor before you even realized who you just webbed up.

“What the hell!”

Your eyes bugged out hearing the cry of your roommate and boyfriend, “Steve!” And you instantly turned a light on.

There Steve was, webbed up in just his plaid pajama pants with his metal baseball bat pressing against his chest. His hair was a bit disheveled meaning your cry woke him up from slumber, he usually sleeps lighter when you’re not together. His eyes were blown wide just like yours were, but both were for different reasons.

You could see Steve’s eyes grow even wider when you were in his proper eyesight. His pupils were roaming over your figure, specifically your chest which was bent over his body with your gloved hands covering your mouth in shock just showing your eyes, along with your black eye. He was looking at the suit covering your body colored in red and blue material with black webbing covering the whole suit, he stared at the spider emblem that was in the center of your chest, and he was not looking out of desire, but confusion. His eyes then moved to the open cut on the side of your abdomen where the fabric was ripped up showing your skin.

“(Y/N)! WHAT THE HELL ARE YOU WEARING? AND WHY DO YOU HAVE A BLACK EYE AND A CUT!”

You slowly moved your hands from your face, wanting to say something to Steve to try and smooth this situation over, but with nothing coming to mind, you just stated the obvious.

“I’m Spider-Woman?” you stated in more of a question form instead of a fact.

There was a beat of silence between the both of you. All you could hear was your heartbeat moving erratically, Steve’s shaky breathing, the refrigerator turning on to make ice, and the distant sounds of nightlife seeping in through your thin walls.

You moved closer to Steve, kneeling on the floor next to him, roughly ripping at the tough webbing keeping him hostage. You pulled your bottom lip in between your teeth with your brows furrowed in slight stress and concentration. Even with your enhanced strength, the webbing kept its hold, maybe even tightening from the stress. You did make the substance so it was strong enough to withhold the weight of a car or building, and it didn’t dissolve until two hours later.

During this moment you’re choosing to not look in Steve’s direction since he still hasn’t said anything and your anxiety was slowly building the longer his silence lasted. You always knew this was something you would have to bring up to him and Robin, but you wished this wasn’t how Steve found out.

“(Y/n),” Steve spoke quietly, barely even heard, trying to grab your attention from your task at hand.

When you didn’t look at him right away he tried calling your name with a bit more steadiness and demand. You barely even turned your head an inch before flinching back into place, scared to be having this talk, scared of what this could mean for your relationship. You know Steve loves you and you love him, but this is something you’ve kept a secret for two years. With all the excuses that range from believable to straight-up stupid that has come out of your mouth, Steve is probably questioning everything.

“(Y/n), can you look at me?”

You finally decided to look in his direction, directly staring into his dark irises which were dripping in confusion and concern. He was still covered in webbing, but at least he could move his left arm out of the grasp allowing him to grip your forearm to keep your attention on him. The both of you were just watching each other now, trying to see who will make the first move, say the first thing. It was Steve to say something first, which makes sense since he needs more answers.

“When did this happen?” was the first question he asked.

“Two years ago, I started to do the webbing thing a month after the incident,” was all you said.

He was still staring at you, the silence slowly suffocating the both of you. You didn’t want to tell Steve or Robin about this because you were scared they would end up getting involved with your crime-fighting life, you wanted to keep the two parts of yourself separate for as long as possible, guess two years was the best you could have before the curtain fell. This was probably the worst time to have this moment since your reputation was slowly growing, meaning more people are out to get you and stop you, aka try to kill you.

You were looking into Steve’s eyes, ones that were watching you, zipping all across your face almost like he was trying to commit every single detail of your face to his memory. As you were just observing him it scared you because this is something you didn’t want Steve to worry about, having him already worried about you, in general, was enough. Adding onto the fact that this line of ‘work’ could get you killed, or get him killed. It would kill you inside and you're pretty sure it would break Steve as well if something were to happen to you.

You went back to pulling the webbing on his body, finally, after all the tugging and ripping, it broke allowing Steve to move again. With him finally free, he sat forward, dropping this bat next to him on the floor, and cupped your face with both his hands gripping your face, gentle, but firm in place. He swiped his right thumb delicately under your left eye where the bruise was already slowly fading in color.

You closed your eyes and leaned your head into his left hand just enjoying this peaceful moment, wishing to freeze time right now, worried about what will happen in the next minute or two.

“Hey,” is the one word that brought you back to reality.

You slowly lifted your eyelids and looked at Steve through your lashes, honestly, you just wanted to sleep right now and talk about this in the morning when you're both properly awake.

“Steve, I know you really wanna talk about this situation, but I’m tired and have to clean my cut, and I would really love to just be in bed right now cuddling you.”

You didn’t want to make it seem like you wanted to avoid this conversation, but it’s been a long day and this interaction felt longer than it was. You could see that Steve was a bit annoyed about having to put off this conversation, but you could tell he saw the dark circles around your eyes signaling to him that you did need the rest and the peacefulness of being home.

He just sighed and nodded his head telling you that he understood. You stood up first, grabbing his wrist and pulling his warm hands away from your cheeks, and then helped him up from the floor. You could see that your webbing was slowly dissolving on the floor leaving behind a little gooey pile, another thing to ignore right now.

You let go of Steve and started to head in the direction of your bathroom, but a grip on your wrist stopped you in your tracks making you turn your head in the direction of Steve. He was just staring at you, watching you as you looked back at him. Knowing what he wanted at this moment now you tilted your head in the direction of the bathroom pulling him along.

You walked into the bathroom with Steve in tow, feeling his watchful gaze following every motion, from grabbing the first aid kit to stripping off the top half of your suit leaving you in just the lower half and your bra. You went to grab the cotton balls and some alcohol, but Steve’s hands beat you to them, pulling them away from your grasp.

“Let's go to the bedroom,” Steve spoke up, his voice a bit harsh.

You just nodded your head, sleep slowly becoming more inviting as each second passed and the feel of Steve’s warm body on your skin is even more welcoming at this moment. The both of you moved quietly through the apartment to make sure you didn’t wake up Robin since it was now nearing two AM.

When you both walked into Steve’s separate bedroom you let go of Steve’s hand, walked to the end of the bed, and sat down with a groan, placing your face in your hands while your elbows rested on your knees. Steve closed the door behind him before walking up to you, running his fingers behind your ear. He moved his hand from behind your ear, gliding it towards your wrist to pull one of your hands away so he can see your face. Steve dropped the kit onto the floor and grabbed your other wrist, both now in his grasp and both pulled away from your face leaving you feeling exposed.

“I’m going to clean your cut and eye and we’re going to sleep this night off, but in the morning the first thing we have to talk about is this situation,” Steve said to you in a low, but solid voice telling you this was one of your serious conversations.

You just nodded your head, too tired to even say okay.

Steve made quick work of cleaning your wounds because they were already slowly healing on their own anyway, but you didn’t tell him that. He would stop and mutter a quiet “sorry” anytime that you hissed from the disinfectant making contact with the wounds. He kept a firm grip on your jaw when cleaning your black eye, moving your face slightly when needed.

It felt intimate with the way he had his grasp on your face, the same way he sometimes held you when you were kissing and it slowly led into something more heated, more passionate, more wanting between the both of you. Although right now you don’t know if he feels any of that wanting right now, just the thought of him not loving you anymore because of this makes your brain go into a bit of panic making your breathing pick up its speed.

“Hey, hey, what’s wrong?” Steve asked, moving his hands to grip your upper arms.

You were looking into Steve’s warm eyes that were clouded with concern and panic, just watching you as you were losing your hold on your breathing.

“I-I c-can’t bre-“

You didn’t even register what was happening for a few seconds before your mind caught up to the present moment.

The feeling of his soft lips on your lips, his hands moving to hold your face, his fingers delicately touching your cheeks and jaw. The feeling of him grounding you back into reality, allowing for your hands to follow in his actions and moving them to hold his face by his jaw, barely setting your forearms on his shoulders. Your lips finally moved before Steve had the chance to lean away from you. Wanting to savor this moment, this little bubble of simple, peaceful times with your boyfriend, and not pay attention to anything that happened before this moment or think of what will happen in the morning.

The outside world became background noise to you, only tuning your ears to the thumping of Steve’s heartbeat as he was tasting you, hearing the hiccups in his breathing when the kiss became more than what it originally was intended to be. Your skin becomes overstimulated just from the feeling of his skin pressing into your cheeks, or the scent of his natural body odor mixed with his body wash; something clean mixed with woodsy elements.

When the both of you ran out of air in your lungs you both pulled back slowly, almost thinking this might be the last time you kiss, the last time you feel each other, but it won’t be the last time, right?

You lean your foreheads against each other, you choosing to not open your eyes, not wanting to break whatever this spell was. You don’t know if Steve chose to do the same thing, but the both of you were just stewing in the silence now. Steve’s fingers swiped across your face where they were holding you in place and then suddenly his thumbs moved under your eyes like he was wiping away fallen tears leaking without your permission.

“Let’s go to sleep, yea?”

Steve spoke the command out quietly as he continued rubbing his thumbs against your wet cheeks. You tucked your bottom lip between your teeth, the tears free-flowing now. You can’t lose him, you can’t lose Steve. He was someone who made you feel exceptional, beyond beautiful, worthy of every piece of your being in this crazy and dangerous world.

He and Robin were all that you had left, your parents were dead, your uncle was killed, and your aunt passed away a year ago. They were the only two people who have constantly been there for you, and if something were to happen to either of them, you don’t think you can continue living.

“Steve,” your voice was rough, the tears causing your throat to constrict.

His hands stayed glued to the side of your face, his thumbs continuing to sweep away the on slot of tears, “sweetheart-” you cut him off, “Steve, please, please” your hands kept a firm hold on his cheeks, “please, don’t break up with me, just because of this. I-”

“Wait, what?” Now Steve interrupted you.

You jerked your head away from the close distance the two of you formed from your kissing session. The look on Steve’s face probably mirrored the look on yours. Brows furrowed in the middle, eyes squinted and held confusion within his irises, his lips a bit pursed, and if this wasn’t a serious conversation you would happily kiss away the puckered mouth.

“You thought- you thought I was gonna break up with you…because you’re Spider-Woman?” he scoffed at the end.

“Well, I-” you were at a loss for words right now. “I just- this was a big secret that I kept from you.”

“(Y/n), sweetheart,” he pulled your face in close and pecked your lips, once, twice, and a third time for good measure. “I would never break up with you, in general, I’m in way too deep,” a stunning smile appeared on both your faces at the confession.

“But this is personal, so I can tell you would have told me eventually. I’m upset because you’ve been putting yourself in danger, and I would have never known if something bad happened to you.” His hands wander along your face.

“Now I wish we had this conversation earlier,” your joking nature spills in.

Steve stood up, his hands leaving your face, “and now I wish we had this conversation in the morning.” He held a hand out for you to take, “now, let’s go to bed. I need my beauty sleep darling.”

You snorted, “Okay, well I need to change out of,” you pointed to the half-striped suit, “my super suit.” A cheeky smile to your words.

“Shall we strip you the fun way or the boring way?” Steve’s reply was even cheekier.

“The boring way, you perv.”

“Shame. I wanted to see how flexible you are.”

“Steve, you already know the answer.”

“Yeah, but you said it’s ‘cause of gymnastics. Now I know you’re Spider-Woman, this opens more possibilities.”

You decided to indulge his idea for a moment, “maybe another time, lover boy.”

He handed you a shirt, “and I’m now going to hold you to that promise.”

With a shake of your head and a smile on your lips, you clipped your bra off and threw the shirt over your upper half. “Ah, come on. Can’t even get a little show?” Steve cried from the bed.

“If you give me twenty bucks, I might put a little burlesque show on.”

He just chuckled at the comment and you heard him sigh before there was the rustling of sheets being moved around on the bed.

With Steve’s oversized shirt covering your upper torso and the hem hitting the top of your thighs, you discarded the dirty suit into a corner and crawled into the bed. You slipped under the covers and Steve instantly has his arms around your body, one over your waist and the other lying under your head. Your own tightly clinging around Steve’s waist and palms flat against his heated back.

“I’m sorry, again.” You mumbled into his neck, nose rubbing against his pulse.

He wrapped you tighter, “I forgive you. I understand why you would keep this a secret, I’m just gonna be worried about your safety twenty-four-seven now. Something I already do, but now I’m on high alert.” He huffed a laugh, trying to play it off as a bit of humor but you knew he meant it.

“I can’t promise you, but I’ll- I’ll try and stay alive.” Your voice cracks just a bit.

Steve was quiet, only the feeling of his chest moving up and down along with him breathing through his nose tickling your strands, long fingers running through your hair. You knew it wasn’t the sweetest thing to say at the moment, but it was the truth. You couldn’t promise your safety or even Steve and Robin’s after this night, and you couldn’t even promise to him that you’ll stay alive and make it back to him, but he didn’t need to know the full truth, only an easy lie.

“Just come back breathing. That’s all I’ll ask of you, (Y/n),” you felt the wet tears hit your scalp but didn’t comment, just held him tighter.

...

#steve harrington #steve harrington imagine #steve harrington fluff #steve harrington reader insert #steve harrington x reader #steve harrington x female reader #stranger things #stranger things series #stranger things x reader #stranger things fanfic #steve harrington angst #steve harrington au #spider-man au

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impyssadobsessions · 2 years

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Phoenix Down

T w T story wouldn't leave my head for months so i wrote it instead of new chapters LOL but I hope y'all like it too~ Here's an excerpt below ~

The rain. It didn't matter where it rained or how heavy, Dick didn't like it. It made jumping off buildings more risky, visibility low, wrecks more likely to happen, and worse of all... it made him panic. Every time he was caught out in the rain, he felt his chest tighten. An uneasy chill in his spine that wouldn't go away. His stomach would churn and it took all his mental power to focus on anything else. This time wasn't any different. Or at least he thought. He stood perched on the edge of a rooftop, staring down below at the lights blurred by the heavy rain and mist. He was doing everything in his willpower to focus on the few moving lights. Keeping his mind blank as his hair stuck to his face. Just a few more hours, and then it will be time to head home. To a warm shower, and cool bed. Just to wake up in a couple hours and head off to his day job. No rest for the wicked nor for the vigilantes that fight them, as they say. Well, as they should say. Dick flinched, as his eyes saw movement in corner of his eye. There was a grayed out figure on the rooftop of one of the abandon buildings below. Small and staggering. He furrowed his brows watching the figure, as it stumbled closer to the edge of the roof. No. That's not good. Dick stood up from his perch, he took a step back and leapt forward off the roof, diving to the building below. He curled his body in the air to flip himself around, using his grappling hook to grab onto the billboard sign just above the building. Slowing his descent and landing onto the rooftop with a roll. The figure seemed startled as it fell back onto its bum. Water splashing as they hissed in pain. Nightwing smiled apologetically, as he took in the other's form, now that he could see it better. He couldn't be older than fifth-teen if he was being generous, though he looked closer to thirteen or twelve even. His hair was black and scruffy, and his eyes were piercing blue. Striking and clear despite the heavy fog and mist. He wore a torn hoodie, holding his arm to his chest. It was bandaged with ripped fabric. Presumably, from another article of clothing. A backpack was slung around one arm, looking just as worn as the rest of him. “Sorry for dropping in, but you look like you could use a hand.” Nightwing forced a grin, kneeling down as he offered his hand out to the boy. He didn't mean to scare the kid. Just to stop him from potentially dropping himself. He half-expected to be cussed at, after all, Nightwing was not well liked here. Neither was any vigilante. Instead, he was greeted with an annoyed glare, and quick wit. “I already have two, thanks.” The scruffy teen showing off his hands, letting go of his injured wrist for a moment. He then hissed in pain and returned to put pressure on his injury.

“One and a half.” Dick pointed out, still keeping his distance. He didn't want to overwhelm the teen, but he really hoped he let him look at his arm. “An extra pair, wouldn't hurt?” “No thanks, I can make do with less.” The teen scooted back from him, before shifting to get up on his knees. His feet ready to push himself up and run if need be. “Doesn't mean you have too.” He couldn't let him run away. His eyes glanced back at the injured arm. Nightwing offered, “At least let me clean up your arm.” The boy glared at him suspiciously, keeping his injured arm to his chest. “Its fine.” “The fabric is soaked in blood.” Dick pointed out, which seemed to be the wrong answer as the kid panicked down at his arm, hiding it away from him. Strange. Nightwing peered, trying to get a better look at the arm. At least he knows it wasn't self-inflicted by the way he reacted. Or at the very least, not intentionally created to be as bad as it was. Maybe he was running away from the gangs? They didn't have any problem hunting down a teen who was struck with bad luck, or anyone really. If only he could inch.. just a little.. closer-

The teen glared at him, moving back even more. Nightwing held up his hands, with a sheepish grin. “I concede.”

Way to mess up. He had to be patient. Think. “So water wing, why did you come up here all by yourself?” “Water wing?” The teen repeated with a raised brow. “It's raining, and you're holding your arm like a broken wing.” Dick tried to explain, when really he was just trying to think of what to call him on the spot. He doubted “kid” would receive a good reaction. “Unless you have a name for me to use?” “That's fowl.” The teen stuck his tongue out, but his response made Dick grin. “A real quack way of asking who the heck are you. Normally people, I don't know, start with their own name before they ask someone else's.” Name. He could do that. “Nightwing. I'm here to help you.” Dick held out his hand, hoping the teen take it.. or at least shake it. The teen raised a brow at the hand, then stared hard at Dick's face. His face trying to hold back showing his expression, as his mouth stressed trying to keep in place as he thought. Then his eyes widened, muttering. “Duck.” “Duck?” Nightwing uttered before he could register what the Teen meant. “Not so far off. It is a waterfow- “No. DUCK!” the teen lunged forward into Nightwing.- read rest on a03

#dick grayson #nightwing #danny fenton #danny phantom #dpxdc #dcxdp #dp x dc #dc x dp #crossover #fanfic #ao3 #phoenix down #was gonna wait til I had more chapters ready but T w T i couldn't LOL

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gabriellerudessa · 1 month

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Compass (Norm Maclean x OC) - Part XXVII

The path eventually circled the mountain, a precarious wooden fence that should be pre-war the only protection. A look showed the expanse of land they had crossed, the distant Sunset-Sarsaparilla billboard, the group of ruins and trees they had passed, all so small from up there…

God. The world was enormous.

And at the same time so small.

PLAYLIST ON YOUTUBE

Word Count: 5.979

Warning: Jealousy, Non-consensual touching

XXVII

He saw the ranch in the distance and whistled, the question, and the safety whistle came one second later. In his next step he was by the gates, and they were open, and Marigold was there, leaning down and kissing all over his face, happiness all over her face, muttering “I love you” against his lips.

He knew he was dreaming because of that.

---------

Marigold woke him up with a light kiss, the “I love you” from the dream still echoing in his ears and he almost expected her to say it. But no. She had promised to wait him in the ranch, said for him not to die on her. No “L” word.

Not as if he knew if she did love him. Norm was only certain of his own feelings and for all the things and courage he had had managed to acquire and exercise, that was something he still chickened out at just the thought. Promising to go to the ranch, hoping to see if they had a chance, was how much courage he had for it all.

“I’ll go put some stew to heat for breakfast.” She said, already freeing herself from him and getting up.

“All right.” She switched on the lights and he blinked and squinted at them, sitting on the bed.

He watched her get dressed quickly, forgoing the shirt, and produced a small and different tin from her backpack and a clear makeshift teabag from it – the contraceptive tea. She winked and blew him a kiss before disappearing up the stairs.

He was still smiling at her antics as he got up and dressed, a little slower, keeping the top half of his Vault-Suit tied at his waist and Pip-Boy around his forearm. Norm remembered his plans of copying things for Goose and got the notes, paper and pencils before climbing up the stairs – at least now he had a table to do it.

---------

They ate the stew calmly, not talking much, Marigold’s contraceptive tea steeping inside a cup with chipped edges in the middle of the table, as he copied Esther’s recipes and notes, his calligraphy clear and legible. Steam wafted from the cup, a weird smell spreading around them – “it must steep at least for fifteen minutes, Goose is very adamant”.

It had taken him too long to get to the copying, but at least it was fast, mindless work. With the silence, broken only by Marigold’s humming – “’cause babe it’s just you” –, Norm gave himself some time to process his reaction the previous night, when he went to clean her. Sure, he had never seen that before, but even still, that was something that had never even crossed his fantasies, not even as a teenager. Vault-life always impressed a weight on constructing family, it all a chore, no matter how enjoyable sex could be.

Maybe it was the lack of that weight, added to his feelings, that made it all… Something that at least attracted his eye.

He needed to ponder more on that.

“How long?” her voice cut his thoughts, and he turned his forearm to see the hour in his Pip-Boy.

“Almost twenty minutes.”

Marigold winced, hand towards the cup.

“There I go.” She turned it, drinking it all in one go and grimacing as she slammed the cup back on the table. “Fuck, each time this thing just gets nastier!”

Norm just shook his head, not bothering to try and hide his small grin.

---------

Book open on one corner of his worktable, Norm read for her as they sorted out scraps and technological bits regarding their overall usability – metal and plastic without any tech, pieces with tech that could be used to fix something, actually working technology, wires, and so on –, his voice washing over them and making the process ten times more interesting and engaging and easier to go by and she constantly had to stop herself from just staring at him and hearing his voice. God, she would miss him reading for her… But he would go to the ranch. She didn’t know when, but he would. She focused on that.

It helped that he had a good eye for the technology that still worked and what could be used to fix things; it was only a question of giving him tips on how to trade and haggle it, but it could wait until they were on the way to the Observatory.

In the end, there were a lot of scraps that had no technological application, and too few of working technology and pieces for fixing things – no sign of the plasma weapon Catarina had been working on, no doubt taken with them.

There was no way they could take everything.

Book closed once again, they decided that, once on the Observatory, it would be best if they traded separately, so they could cover more ground and see what they could discover. For weight reasons, Norm would take the working technologies and pieces, while she carried wires and some of the heavier scraps without application beyond external parts and such – and the shotgun.

“It will be good for you to learn about trading in the surface and get the hang of Wastelanders beyond myself.”

“I hope I don’t mess it up.” He nodded with an exhale as they organized their bags.

“You did well with my Ma and Ma June and you had even less experience than now. You’ll do fine, Norm-boy.”

Norm smiled at that, small, color on his cheeks, and she kissed his temple.

Marigold hid the books in the bottom of the last wardrobe drawer, just so she had more space for scraps in her backpack. After, she separated some of the food she carried in the refrigerator, making plans of trading more, half of her brain already thinking on the possibility of having to follow another path. If it happened, she wanted to make sure he had as much dried and canned food as possible.

Norm left the boxes of poisoned Fancy Lads Snack Cakes and Sugar Bombs by the counter as he finished organizing sidebag and bag, and Marigold raised a curious eyebrow.

“Not taking those?”

He shook his head.

“Don’t want to risk missing it there or whatever and I need the space to store my Pip-Boy before we go into the Observatory.” He tore a piece of paper and wrote something, putting it inside the box. “There. It’s yours now.” He grinned at her. “If another Bear appear, they’ll keep away.”

Marigold laughed.

“At this point the only option is Ed and his wives, but they are still in the Mojave, maybe starting to travel back.”

“And the travel from there to here is long, I imagine.”

“Yep. Just crossing the Long 15 from there to here can take at least one month, because of the cargo and so on, and that if weather contributes.” She shrugged. “Still, it’s good to take the precaution.”

He nodded, leaving the boxes together in the counter and fitting Catarina’s letter behind the terminal, while Marigold used the water bottles in the refrigerator to fill their canteens.

They checked his leg, filled their canteens with water from the refrigerator, finished getting ready, and gave a last look around to make sure they weren’t forgetting anything. Satisfied that the answer was “no”, they threw their bags on their backs and shoulders, and left the house, Norm making sure to lock the door with the terminal.

---------

Norm made sure to mark the exact coordinates in his Pip-Boy then captured Marigold’s hand, kissing her knuckles. The sun was already relatively high up in the sky, around middle of the morning, the wind blowing fast and fresh against his skin. Marigold said that they would probably have more rain, but it could either be that day or in the following ones.

It was faster than the previous day, both relatively familiarized with the path, and Marigold used the walk to pass her tips about trading, and oh she had a lot to tell – “specially with tech things, you always ask 15 to 30 per cent more than what they offer. Usually the final haggle ends between 20 and 25 more from their initial offer”; “if they seem specially desperate and interested, ask 50 per cent more. Usually they accept without question”; “remember to be firm and give them your determined stare, avoid smirking”; “don’t hesitate about taking your things and walking away if they insist on the first price. A lot of times it makes them amenable to haggling” – and about how to get the information they needed from people they didn’t know – “usually asking about what happened in the last weeks as you trade is enough to get a good overview of what you need”; “careful with prodding too much, people can get really defensive and distrust you”; “information is a commodity too, if they notice you’re really interested they’ll try to charge for it, in caps or in favors”.

She had a lot more to say, including about haggling the price down if buying. It was clear she had learned a lot about it all growing up, and Norm summarized everything as “don’t rip them off, but also don’t let them rip you off” and “people love to talk about what happened around them”. Good to know that a penchant for gossip was a constant both in the Vault and in the Wasteland.

They eventually reached the trail and started climbing up the mountain, eating dried molerat as they walked, midday coming and going.

The ground, all rocks, sand and earth, was smooth from multiple feet along the years, bushes and thin trees at the sides, winding up the mountain. Sometimes steeper, then back to something almost flat, and the talk turned towards items that they should buy – Marigold had guaranteed she would take care of food, telling him to get ammo for his revolver and whatever else he was in need of; he agreed, immediately remembering his blood-stained socks.

God. The world was enormous.

And at the same time so small.

He was turning to look back at the path when a black moving shape in that expansion attracted his attention, smaller than the fingernail of his pinkie finger.

Norm blinked, hand tightening on Marigold’s, and the shape disappeared, as suddenly as it had appeared.

“Norm-boy?” Marigold stopped with him, squeezing his hand back.

His eyes moved along the land… Had he imagined it? There was nowhere the shape could have gone, it had been in the smack middle of nothing…

A finger turned his chin towards Marigold, her eyebrows frowned and mouth a line.

“What is it?”

“I… Think I saw something moving down there, but I’m not sure…”

Still frowning, her head moved to watch the space, and he did the same, seconds stretching into minutes, the land still empty of movement. Marigold started walking, slowly pulling him along.

“There’re things people use that can make them… Well, invisible, for lack of a better word.”

“There are?”

Marigold nodded, and Norm didn’t miss how she still frowned.

“Stealth-boys. They’re pre-war tech, Ma June once had one for sale.”

“I think I remember Lucy and my father mentioning it once. I think it was military.”

“Yeah. They’re quite expensive.” Her steps speed up some. “Hopefully this will not equal to trouble to us.”

Norm threw a last look towards the land down there before focusing back on the path up the mountain.

---------

It was almost the middle of the afternoon when the metal walls surrounding the Observatory slowly became visible, made of everything possible, from cars to sheets of metal, a great space of empty land around it. Norm let go of Marigold’s hand briefly, Pip-Boy disappearing inside the sidebag, and held it again, tightly.

“We trade separately, try to get information about what happened and so on, and meet again later.” He confirmed, voice trembling, and Marigold made them stop, cupping and stroking his cheek with her thumb.

“Yeah. And you’ll be fine. You’ll get even their pants in the deal.” She grinned and leaned down, kissing his lips firmly. Norm laughed into the kiss.

“There’s only one pair of pants I would like to get out of someone, Beautiful, and it’s not the ones from some random trader.” He grinned back at her as she retreated, color on his cheeks.

Marigold loved the fact that, while he was getting flirting, he still got all flustered and flushed from it. She hoped it would never change, because it made him all the more cute and endearing.

“Naughty, Norm-boy.” She winked, straightening.

“I try.” He chuckled and they started moving again.

The gates were open, flanked on the sides by golden-and-red flags. Two bored looking Brotherhood members were on the sides, apparently guarding it, just like in Filly, registering a couple of travelling merchants with their Brahmin. She was pretty sure the jumpsuits indicated they were Initiates. On the bridge above the gate, two Knights in Power-Armor stood: the actual guards.

She felt their miniguns pointing at them as they approached and the travelling merchants distanced from the Observatory. Marigold needed to force herself to breathe slowly and not crush Norm’s hand.

They passed the merchants, and she faintly recognized both, one even addressing her as “Bear” with a respectful nod she returned. They must’ve traded with her family, but not regulars enough for her to remember.

“That’s a what?” Norm muttered beside her after the distance increased.

“Brahmin.” He squeezed her hand in recognition.

“That’s close enough. Name and affiliation?” The Initiates called out, straightening.

“Marigold and Norm, Bear Family Ranch, close to Filly.” Norm spoke before she could, and she smiled at the calm he managed to transpire, even while feeling the cold sweat in his hand against her uncovered fingertips.

One of them relaxed, some recognition in his face. The other looked with a blank face.

“Hunter and accountant, right? The both of you were mentioned in the last batch of records’ Filly sent.”

“They were?”

“Yeah. You really should start paying attention to those.” The guard shook his head at his companion and looked at them again. “Business?”

“Trading.”

The guard nodded, serious, writing in his clipboard.

“The gates close at sundown. There’s a cantina open to civilians and non-Brotherhood members close to the southern wall. It also has a communal bedroom, 15 caps per person for one night. If you lose the gate’s closing, that’s the only place non-members can pass the night, sleeping in the streets results in a fine and temporary imprisonment. Prostitution also results in a fine and imprisonment. No stealing, killing, or aggression.”

“Thanks for all the warnings and information.” Marigold managed to nod, trying to not wonder who dared to forbid prostitution in the Wasteland or why those differences between Filly and the Observatory – maybe more a question of how long settled in it? Of how many natives with whom to deal?

“Then you’re both free to go in.” He pointed inside with his pen and stepped aside.

---------

The first thing Norm noticed was the Observatory itself, still somewhat standing after two hundred years, impressive despite the missing parts.

Then he noticed the stalks of corn amidst patches of charred ground flanking a central path, with people working in the field – some used Brotherhood’s jumpsuits, but others seemed just common people.

The short path ended in a broken and destroyed monument, ramshackle buildings and stalls made of metal sheets and wood around it like some type of plaza, marked with bullet holes by the dozens. Besides the Observatory, a bigger metal and wood building was being built, with a barn-like look.

Most of the stalls seemed to be manned by Brotherhood members; most of the people also seemed to be from the Brotherhood – he still couldn’t pinpoint which rank wore which clothes, the only clear ones where the Clerics and their robes, and the occasional Knights in Power-Armor. The few not dressed as Brotherhood were the only ones actually walking around and trading.

“All righty, Norm-boy. Remember what I told you. Meet you at the cantina at sundown?” Marigold squeezed his hand and he looked up at her.

“That seems like a plan.” He smiled.

“Take care.” She leaned down and kissed his cheek, smiling against him and stroking his hand with her thumb.

“You too.”

And then Marigold was steeping away, sure and determined. He missed her hand in his the moment it left.

Sighing, Norm turned and started wandering the place, paying attention to the stalls and few plaques hung to try and find someone that traded in tech, and keeping his ears open to any talk around.

---------

He found an older man, wearing a grease-stained Brotherhood jumpsuit and magnifying glasses with multiple lenses, whose stall had an assortment of tech and tech parts spread on the table. The man was mostly curved above a worktable full of tools to the side, working on what Norm recognized after some moments as a Pip-Boy, knobs and buttons stained by oil and rust; an old one. The man’s fingers changed lenses with a speed Norm admired as he approached.

The man turned to the stall, glasses on his forehead, and stopped whatever he was about to do as he put his eyes on Norm.

“Need something?”

“I have some tech to trade. Interested?”

The man looked at the Pip-Boy he was working, scratched at his chin with frowned eyebrows, and stared back at him.

“Sure. Let’s see what you have.”

Norm presented the pieces and tech carefully, making sure to make one or another remark so the man knew that he knew what he had, doing his best to apply Marigold’s tips in the negotiation. The man didn’t seem bothered by the haggling, eyes and fingers going appreciatively over some of the pieces. Someone that knew what he was buying.

“That’s a Pip-Boy you’re working on, right?” Norm carefully asked as the man passed him the caps, trying to keep his voice light and not overtly interested.

The man frowned lightly at him, lips a line behind his beard.

“It is. It’s also not for sale.”

Norm shrugged, letting the fabric purse full of caps drop in an internal pocket of the coat.

“I figured that. What’s its problem?”

The man opened his mouth, closed it again, and watched him closely.

“Scavenged a lot of Vaults, hm…” The man pointed at Norm’s chest and the exposed Vault-Suit with his chin. Norm just shrugged again – let him think what he wants – and the man nodded, face relaxing a little. “It seems to be in some sort of loop trying to access something and we can’t access anything else in it.”

“Well-”

“The Elder Cleric was clear.” The voice cut the conversation, the man’s eyes looking aside and behind Norm, and he couldn’t keep himself from looking too.

A tall pale person limping slightly and talking with a tall black man. Both wore different-colored jumpsuits and walked fast, hands holding the handles of the weapons at their belts. They seemed distressed, stormy expressions on their faces.

“You can’t go.” The pale person spoke, voice firm. The same voice that had first attracted his attention.

“We don’t know what he will do, Dane. The more we delay, the more he could… I don’t know, throw another bomb, this time at us.”

“He stole a Power-Armor and you just started actually training in yours. Let this to someone more experienced, Maximus.”

“If the Elder Cleric would actually send someone-”

The two moved away enough that Norm couldn’t hear them anymore, just the sigh from the man with whom he was trading.

He turned and the man was scratching at his eyes.

“Sorry you had to hear and see that.”

“I… Just arrived so… That Maximus just became a Knight, from what I understood?”

The man nodded, hand lowering.

“He killed Moldaver, it was just natural.” Moldaver: dead, indeed. Lucy and his father: God knew.

“Congratulations to him.” Norm managed, throwing a look at the path the two had disappeared, and back to the man. “Anyway, I hope you manage to discover the problem.”

Norm actually had a good idea of what it was. He always had it if he spent more than four hours gaming non-stop: the older the Pip-Boy, the more the holotape locking mechanism liked to get stuck after you took the holotape out, and thus the Pip-Boy eternally tried to access a holotape that wasn’t there.

“Wait.” The man called when he had given some steps, and Norm half-turned to look. “What’s your name?”

“Norm. Yours?”

“Julius, Senior Scribe.” Norm made sure to associate the jumpsuit to the rank as he slowly returned to the stall. “Messed with Pip-Boys when scavenging Vaults?”

“A bit.” A lot, actually, half of his job when working with the Vault’s computers was maintenance of everybody’s Pip-Boys.

“Most I worked weren’t as advanced as this one. What would it take for you to give a look and say your thoughts?”

Norm blinked and thought and tried to not seem too excited at it.

“Well… I got a bit curious about what those two were saying, if it’s not like… Something that can get you into trouble for sharing. I barely knew you all had occupied the Observatory, after all.” Norm made himself shrug, just a guy wanting to understand the recent news.

Julius scratched his chin, thoughtful, and shrugged.

“It’s nothing big, but if you’re interested…. I’ll talk as you look.”

“Fine by me.” Norm circled the stall to approach the worktable.

---------

Trading the shotgun for ammo and some caps had been easy, even if the muscled man dressed as a Scribe doing it had no interest in gossiping about recent events, which was a shame.

She had better luck when selling the scraps and wires she had brought, even if it had taken more time. The Initiate man manning the stall, equally muscled, had been fair in his trading and had been very excited for someone with whom to gossip.

Moldaver was dead-dead, thanks for the confirmation; she could look towards the ruins beyond the other side of the mountain and the Observatory and see them all light up – some extra caps guarantying looser lips and some crazy story about cold fusion –, and something about a Squire turned Knight for killing Moldaver. And the overall tension between said Knight and the Elder Cleric. The Initiate didn’t know why, but no one could deny it.

Marigold nodded at it all, appearing adequately interested, but not much, before asking where she could buy dried food and such; the Initiate stopped, grimaced and explained.

She was in the middle of the path, the first signs of sundown in the sky, when she finally understood that the Initiate’s behavior seemed a lot like disgust.

Her wits upon her, Marigold kept walking, almost all the way back to the wall, the stall closer to the corn fields and hidden by the high stalks – hidden from everything, actually. A small flag hang from the improvised roof, with a symbol she didn’t recognize, two pack Brahmins in an improvised pen, and boxes and bags all around in piles. Not Brotherhood, at least not military branch, but some caravaneer.

Cans and fabric packets and old plastic and metal containers were spread above the stall, a wooden bar above them with dozens of necklaces and chains hanging from it, some looking like charms and the likes. Marigold easily recognized the drawings taped to the containers as she approached, the variety attractive. Before she could call, a man appeared from behind the highest pile of boxes, carrying a bag.

“Hey. One second.”

Marigold analyzed him as he put the bag down and started unloading it – tall, well dressed in black leather shoes, nice pants, shirt and suspenders, no charm on himself – in her experience, 90% of chance that the charms were fake or pilfered from bodies and not done by him. She wondered where his guards were; the man lacked all the posture of someone that was used to fighting; even Nip-Nip had it. And really, with two Brahmins, well cared for, from what she saw… That man was a caravaneer of success. These types rarely fought themselves to protect their cargo.

“Very well, how can I help you?” the drawl in his voice was familiar… Ah, Mojave accent.

“Food for travel. I see you have a good variety.”

The man smiled, all teeth – the two superior canines were golden –, and started pointing the foods.

Marigold heard with only half a brain. The overall appearance plus those golden teeth… She knew who he was and was absolutely certain that he would try to rip her off and try to get into her pants – Ed, Andrea and Willow had enough stories about “Verda Two-Teeth” – unkind nickname –, caravaneer travelling the Mojave and the Long 15 under the Crimson Caravan’s flag. Usually.

Most of their stories told how the man was handsy sober and even worse when drunk. The Initiate’s disgust made a lot more sense. Probably Verda Two-Teeth was behaving just enough to not be kicked out, but was still annoying as all fuck.

She pointed some of the foods, asking their prices, throwing a last look to the flag – not Crimson Caravan. They had lost their foothold on the region with the bombing of Shady Sands. He wasn’t with them, and that was the closest region he could trade without being prosecuted by them. Just her luck.

The price he asked was absurd, as she expected, and she started haggling it down, determined to finish that fast. It wasn’t worth remaining longer than necessary to try and see if he had interesting information if it meant risking him getting handsy.

They reached an apparent agreement and she extended her hand to separate what she was interested to better calculate the total she had to pay.

He grabbed her hand, that same all-teeth smile.

Marigold raised an unimpressed eyebrow.

“I managed to deal a private room here. We could have some fun during the night, dollface.”

Fucking hell. What was it with creepy men and “dollface”, at least where she was involved?

“Not interested. I’m here only for the food.” She answered plainly, pulling her hand harshly. He tried to keep his hold, but she was clearly and blessedly stronger.

“Oh, c’mon. I can show you a good time.”

“And I told you I’m not interested. Could we finish trading?”

---------

The Pip-Boy’s problem had been exactly what he had expected; after just a short three minute observation and explaining where the old man should push with a pincer, the Pip-Boy loaded perfectly. Norm couldn’t see the screen, and he figured it would be too big a risk to try and ask to take a look.

At least it didn’t look like Lucy’s, too marked by age to be hers. However, he did wondered if it wasn’t his mom’s, found in Moldaver’s hands… If it was, would just confirm what he already knew: somehow Rose’s Pip-Boy had ended in the surface. It was the “how” and “why” he still needed to discover.

Honoring the deal, the Senior Scribe told him about how Moldaver had had a prisoner in her hands that had stolen a Power-Armor and ran away as Maximus fought her – something they tried to keep under wraps but failed so Lucius admitting wasn’t a big deal. Maximus wanted to go for the prisoner, apparently Moldaver had told he was the responsible for the bombing of Shady Sands – Lucius said it chuckling, clearly talking about it only because neither he nor no one else beyond Maximus put much stock into it –, but Elder Cleric Quintus was adamant that Maximus should complete the basic training with his Power-Armor while someone else with more expertise went. However, with the recent activities and fights and deaths, the Elder Cleric hadn’t selected who to send yet – there was even some talk that he was expecting reinforcements from the Commonwealth.

Norm had absolutely no doubt that the prisoner was his father and he was so much more confused – Power-Armor? Bombing Shady Sands? What the actual fuck? And Lucy, had she arrived, at least?

The man had pointed him where he could buy some ammo, and Norm was glad for the minutes it gave him to think and process. If he hadn’t discovered about Vault 31, he would immediately say that the “bombing Shady Sands” was just Moldaver’s reasoning to kidnap his father, just gossip that would end up in nothing, but with the knowledge, knowing that Hank had never told them he was pre-war and an employee of Vault-Tec… Then it was hard to simply say “my dad would never”. Would he never? Really?

Before he would say “my dad would never lie”. He had discovered his father had lied. What more his father “would never” but had actually done?

Norm was more under control of himself when he found the stall selling ammo, one with clothes beside it, and he had managed to buy everything he needed in a short amount of time, hearing more snippets of information – cold fusion? He almost said “that’s sci-fi”. However, considering Vault 31’s cryogenic pods and all about a scientist that Lucy was supposed to escort to the Observatory… He really didn’t even know what to expect anymore. Sure, cold-fusion, whatever.

He noticed the first signs of twilight in the sky when he passed by a stall with a man in Brotherhood jumpsuit sorting through metal pieces and wires, and yeah, he and Marigold had agreed “cantina”, but… Damn it, he missed her and how her presence was grounding simply because she knew it all, no need to try and fake it.

“Hey. Did a tall woman-”

“She did. Went towards the wall, behind the corn stalks in the north.” The man was grimacing as he finished sorting a pile.

“… Thank you?”

Norm managed to say and the man shrugged, still grimacing. He shrugged too and started walking, fast steps, his hand already tingling with the memory of hers.

“And I told you I’m not interested. Could we finish trading?” He heard Marigold an instant before he saw her, standing in front of a stall, two Brahmins in a pen close by, boxes and bags all around.

Norm kept walking and didn’t attempt to hide, but the man clearly was too occupied with other things; the trader’s face distorted with barely contained anger, hand flying above the stall and grabbing Marigold’s wrist, pulling her.

“Don’t be like that, dollface.” Flashes of Nip-Nip’s face, hand touching Marigold’s chin, and Norm speeded up, swallowing, the sinking nausea inside him pooling rapidly. “These stupid Brotherhood guys don’t know how to please a woman, half barely know from where kids come.”

“And I doubt you do know either of those.” He stopped beside Marigold, arm around her lower back and hand gripping her waist, pulling her against him and pointedly looking at the hand still around her wrist. “You better let go of her.”

“The adults are having a conversation.”

Oh, classic. As if he hadn’t heard it enough in the Vault when growing up. And after too, occasionally, when people forgot his actual age just because of his height and he was freshly shaven.

Norm looked to the sides of to the man then around.

“Funny, I’m not seeing any with you. Are you lost?” Sarcasm dripped from his voice, and he felt Marigold shake with barely contained laughter.

The man finally looked at him, blinking.

“What, you think some wimp like you can handle a woman like her?”

“I know for a fact that I can, and you’re very small-brained if you think you can. You can’t even take her ‘no’ as an answer.” Norm raised an eyebrow and twisted his mouth in a grimace, while the man’s mouth dropped open.

“Exactly what he said, Verda Two-Teeth.” The man’s eyes became big. “Yeah, I know of you and how much of a handsy scumbag you are. Now you better let go of me before I make you bleed over all this food.”

Marigold spoke smoothly, and Norm grinned as he noticed that weird triangular knife of hers on the opposite hand, tip touching the man’s wrist.

“No killing or aggression.” The man didn’t let go, even as his voice was closer to a whimper. “You’ll go to Brotherhood jail.”

“I’m pretty sure they’ll let it slide if it was done because you’re trying to get sex in trade for food. Prostitution is forbidden too.” Norm spoke without hesitation.

“I-I didn’t-”

“Funny, my dearest, now that you said it, that’s exactly what it sounded like, him asking for sex just as I started to select what I wanted to buy.” Marigold leaned against Norm, knife still out.

The man let her go, muttering something Norm didn’t bother to decipher, and Marigold’s knife disappeared under the cape.

Norm remained beside her, her hands selecting what she wanted to buy with fast and practiced movements, and his eyes watched the assorted necklaces and charms hanging above it all.

One glimmered in the fading sunlight, golden chain, the pendant a golden ellipse with a small dried rose in the middle.

It was just like the one Lucy would describe as remembering their mom using.

The man said the amounted caps for the food and Marigold was counting them as Norm pointed towards the necklaces in a general direction.

“How much?”

“Anyone 15 caps, two for 25.” The trader said after throwing a cautious look towards Marigold, receiving only an extra trouble grin.

Norm counted his own caps and let them fall on the stall as he pulled the golden necklace, letting it drop inside one pocket, and started dumping the food into his bag.

“Have a good night, Verda Two-Teeth.” Marigold said, caps on the table, and they turned, ignoring the man’s muttering as they started walking, sky darkening as night fell.

Her hand landed on him, to the side of his neck, thumb stroking the naked skin of his jaw, and Norm sighed, relaxing into the touch as he did the same on her waist.

“Thanks for the support, Norm-boy.”

“You’re welcome, Marigold.” He blinked at the path and at the improvised post lights switching on. “You used ‘my dearest’.”

“Seeing you jealous and destroying someone with words is hot as fuck.” He could hear the chuckle in her voice, and his neck warmed.

“I wasn’t-”

“You definitely were.” She called him out, still chuckling.

“… I was mostly angry at his audacity after you said no.” He admitted, squeezing her waist and clearing his throat.

“You’re too sweet, Norm-boy.” Marigold kissed his hair, breathing deeply, and he smiled, a bit dumbfounded. “Anyway, didn’t know you believed in lucky charms.”

“I don’t, but… Lucy would talk about this necklace mom used… And it fits what I usually imagined.” He shrugged, warmth in his neck; the decision had been a bit spur of the moment, he admitted.

“Aw. Can I take a look?” Norm pulled it and Marigold carefully hold the piece, looking the pendant in multiple angles, soft pretty smile appearing. “It’s beautiful, Norm-boy. I totally get why you bought it.” She carefully returned it and he smiled, putting it into an internal pocket.

“It is… I think I just wanted something that reminds me of her, even if not the real one.” He shrugged, relaxing into their half-hug and hearing Marigold humming – “‘cause babe it’s just you…”

#norm maclean #norm maclean x oc #fallout prime #fallout #fallout series #I loved writing these two working together to destroy the trader lololol #Also yes both necklace and Pip-Boy from Rose

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