#black windows with no shades or blinds or curtains when inside looking out the window at night really freak me out | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

cinnamonrusts · 3 years

Text

bed time with the sparda twins --

all the cuddles, fluff, and bedtime rituals with dante and vergil 💤

-- f!reader (kofi + gif not mine)

DANTE-

The ticking clock in the living room read 10:30pm. Dante yawned loudly which was followed by several loud lip smacks. You fell asleep beside him on the couch, your head rested on the back of the headrest with mouth open wide. The half demon smiles as his tired eyes observe you lovingly, even as a dribble of drool rolls down the side of your chin. How did he get so lucky? What did he do to deserve someone like you? Your gentle and attractive features highlighted the warmth that your heart radiated.

However, waking you up unleashed the wrath that your gentle soul disguised. Dante put a hand on your thigh and gave you a light shake. You stirred slightly before drifting back to your deep slumber. Your name whispered from his lips while he gave your body another shake. Soon your eyes opened and Dante’s face came into focus. “Hey, sunshine,” he cooed, “Let’s go to bed.”

A tired smile stretched across your lips as his words filled you with love. With a stretch and a loud yawn, you took the hand that Dante lent out and the two of you climbed the stairs to the upper level.

Your bedtime routine was always the same, besides a couple of variances. Dante was the first into the bathroom, he removed all clothing besides his boxers and socks. He pasted both of your toothbrushes and set yours down on the counter where it waited for you. As he peed, he brushed his teeth and hummed the tune to Walking on Sunshine. When you joined him, you picked up the toothbrush and started to brush as Dante continued to hum happily. The two of you observed each other’s reflections in the mirror; a mixture of funny faces and giggles were exchanged.

In Dante’s room was a king sized bed that was directly in the middle of four maroon walls. The small room had one window on the right wall that allowed the pink glow of the neon sign to peak in through the blinds, this gave the bedroom a sort of warmth to it. On either side of the bed were nightstands that were decorated with personal items. Yours had a variety of skincare items, a clock, a teddy bear, and a photo of Dante, Nico, Nero, and yourself (Vergil was nice enough to take the picture). Dante’s was filled with several half empty water bottles, a scattered mess of papers, a photo of the two of you at a fair, and Ebony/Ivory. He kept them on top of his dresser to keep them accessible at all times, if anything were to happen -- keeping you safe was his priority and he felt better with them in close range.

Other things in the room included a closet which contained your clothing and a large dresser which held Dante’s. His dresser was on the wall that faced the foot of the king sized bed, on top was a medium sized CRT television that occasionally caught signal from the busted antenna on the top of the building.

As you finished getting ready for bed, Dante rushed into the bedroom to get the bed prepped. He pulled back the plump, black comforters, as well as taking your pillows and giving them a fluff. You stopped in the doorway of the room and leaned against the frame with a smile on your lips as you watched the Sparda man prep your bed. The floorboards squeaked as you shifted your weight which caught his attention - he stopped immediately then spun around with a smile. “Bed’s all ready,” he took a small step toward you, which you took one toward him. Dante then charged into your waist, his arms wrap tightly around your small frame. He lifts you up in the air with ease before resting your body over his right shoulder. Dante slides toward the bed and proceeds to drop you lightly onto the springy mattress.

The white haired male lowers himself down over you with hands on each side of your head. He’s quiet besides the same smile that he’s been wearing all night. “Hi,” you say quietly, “Hey,” he responds. Your skin can feel the warmth of his breath against it which causes goosebumps to rise. Soon his lips are pressed against yours. His kisses always start soft and sweet before growing hungrier with each touch. His white teeth are biting at your lower lip, his tongue is wrestles for dominance inside of your mouth. Dante’s palms that were supporting his weight are now roaming your body as he feels every curve while your fingers stroke his chin stubble. You can feel his boxers rise against your thigh but before anything can move any further, he stops.

Dante pulls away and cups your cheek with his rough palm. His thumb strokes your skin softly as his blue orbs take in your e/c eyes. He suggests that the two of you crawl under the covers and get comfortable. You agree and crawl to the side of the bed where you normally slept, Dante joining you on the other side while draping the blankets over your frames. His strong arm wraps around you and pulls you close to his bare chest. Your head rests on his warm skin and you can feel his heartbeat slow from the quickened pace that it was beating at. Dante turns on the television and flips through several channels of static before stopping on a late night re-run of a comedy movie. You can feel your eyes getting heavy with each blink.

Light snores vibrate in your throat as you fell asleep again on your partner. He can hear them over the sound of the movie and his eyes look down to the side at you. Your expression is peaceful, and the rise then fall of your body is slow and steady. Dante smiles again and thinks again about how lucky he is to be where he is right now. He was hoping for a blowjob, but this is okay too... That could always happen later.

When the two of you sleep, it is a battle for the bed. Despite being a king size, the two of you take up a considerable amount of space for the rather large mattress. Dante is a stomach sleeper and sleeps with his legs spread out wide. A part of his body always needs to be touching you, so that he knows that you’re always there beside him. He’s afraid of something happening to you while he’s asleep or when he wakes up in the morning, you’ll be gone. So, either his foot is touching your leg or his palm is on your breast.

You often sleep on your back with legs and arms spread out. The back of your hand or palm usually rests on the back of Dante’s head (or his face). Your leg that isn’t touching Dante’s often dangles off the side and falls asleep, which then wakes you up with the annoying tingling feeling that doesn’t go away until you shake it. The devil hunter likes sleeping with the tv on and enjoys the feeling of waking up in the dark to see an infomercial about cleaning products playing. While you like sleeping in the dark, the hue of the neon signs outside give you a relaxed feeling that you cannot explain.

Despite your differences in your sleeping conditions -- the two of you wait for the other to wake up in the mornings. Usually you’re the first to fall asleep and the first to wake up, but sometimes Dante beats you in the mornings. He doesn’t have difficulty falling asleep but does staying asleep, during the night his dreams often wake him and he has trouble shaking them off. So, if he wakes up early, he will wait for you. You wait for him as well. Whoever is first -- either of you will face the other and enjoy the peacefulness of quiet morning and the way that the sun shines into the room. Dante feels excited every time you wake up and your blinks are slow but the way that the sun shines off of your e/c irises fill him with a warmth that he doesn’t fully wrap his head around.

Dante doesn’t wake up as peaceful as you do. It’s often with eyelids opening quickly and glazed over eyes from either not enough or too much sleep. His morning breath is atrocious but comforting at the same time. It is a stench that you’ve grown to love - some may think it’s odd but love is an odd thing.

As he stretches, he rolls onto his side and pulls you close to him again as you managed to wiggle free during the night. His hand is on the small of your back as you prop yourself up on your elbows with your hands under your chin. Dante grins,

“Good morning, snore-ass,” he says with a yawn, “Good morning, shit breath,” you reply with a smile.

VERGIL-

It is late at night and you’re already in bed but are not accompanied by Vergil. You stir under the sheet that laid across your body, your legs search for the strong calves of your mate. But the bed is absent of the half demon man. You push yourself up from the bed and squint as you scan the dark room. The walls are a light shade of grey and two windows sit directly in front of you, the moonlight peaks from between two curtains and highlights an empty chair where Vergil normally sat with his book.

“He must be downstairs,” you speak as you drape a robe over your nude frame. The hallway is empty and dark when you exit your shared bedroom. Down the hall is the room of his brother, Dante, and sounds of his television blare from behind his closed door. He wouldn’t be in there, it’s too late in the night. You peer over the side of the balcony to the floor below and see Vergil sitting at his brother’s desk with book in hand.

It wasn’t uncommon for you to wake up without the elder Sparda brother accompanying you. Things kept him awake at night and he was usually reluctant to reveal what they were, despite being in a relationship together for several years. He informed you about his mother, Eva, and that fateful day that separated his fate from the one of Dante’s - but that was about it.

Vergil hears your creaking as you walk down the steps and acknowledges your presence, “You should be sleeping,” he says with his book raised to eye level. “Waking up alone gets old, Vergil.” you slowly approach him and notice that he’s shirtless still from your love making that occurred earlier in the night. The moonlight shines in from a window and accents his muscular body in all the correct ways.

He is silent for a moment before he apologizes. You accept it and lightly wrap your arms around his neck from behind and your fingertips lightly run across his strong pectorals. “Did you have another dream?” you whisper next to his ear. He had been having issues with dreaming about his corruption and the loss of his mother, which leads up to losing you. Your hand raises to his ear and tickles his skin, but Vergil takes your digits in his palm and squeezes. “Let’s return to our bedroom,” he pushes back from the desk and stands.

The Sparda man feels guilty for leaving you again, especially after having sex because your cuddling was cut short when he got up and left. Vergil suddenly scoops you up from your feet, his strong arms pull your close to his body and he walks up the stairs. You look up to his face with a warmth lingering in your cheeks, you can see his handsome features even in the dark. His eyes are focused on what was in front of him and when he reached the landing, they fell onto you. He smiles slightly as he pushes the bedroom door open with his foot.

The room isn’t large but is perfect for the two of you to live comfortably in. On the wall to the right was a large dresser that held both of your clothing. Decorating the top of it was a photo of the two of you, Dante and Vergil, then a painting of you two hung on the wall about the furniture. In a vase was a wilted rose that Vergil had given to you on your first official date, it was frail and broken but most petal remained, it was sentimental nonetheless. The largest piece of furniture was an ornate bookshelf that held a collection of works that Vergil admired. You actually found it in an antique store and used the remaining money you had for the month to purchase it for him. When he received your gift, you could’ve sworn you saw tears well in his eyes but he quickly embraced you tightly and thanked you with a passionate kiss. There was no television in your room but there was a small radio that you listened to often when you would clean up while Vergil read his poems in the chair by the window. He enjoyed listening to you sing and hum to the music while he read, his eyes would occasionally raise from the literature to watch you.

You think that he is going to lay you on the bed but he takes you into the bathroom that is connected to the bedroom instead. Your normal bedtime routine involved you sitting on the toilet brushing your teeth while Vergil stood in front of the sink doing the same. He was very vigilant about his oral health, so he took twice as long as you to brush. You always gotta bump him out of the way with your hip, so that you could spit out the foam that was filling your cheeks to the brim. Vergil always set out two things of floss and two bottles of mouth wash. “His and hers!” you called it. Skincare masks were your favorite weekly routine because it meant that you could paint his face with black mud. He would scoff but let you have your fun, however, he was unhappy when you captured a photographic memory of it.

Vergil seats you down on the closed toilet lid and turns to dig in the lower cabinet. “What’re you doing?” you ask but he doesn’t answer. When he turns around, there is a bottle of body lotion in his hand. He pumps several globs of white cream into his palm before resting on his knees, he waddles toward you and takes the lower half of your leg in his empty hand. His rough palm with the lotion begins to spread the lotion on your soft skin. The other hand joins as they travel up and down your appendage, he begins giving you a massage. Vergil raises your calf to his face and presses his lips against it, giving you several loving kisses. He then presses his nose to your muscle and breathes you in. Kissing, feeling, and smelling your body creates an overwhelming sensation of love and gratitude to fill his body, he wants to show you how much he appreciates everything you have done for him.

You hum in pleasure as he massages but when he stops and kisses your leg, you lean over to run your fingers through his white hair. His blue orbs flicker up and meet yours, the silence remains as no words are needed to explain the intimacy between you both.

After he is done, he picks you up again and takes you to the bed.

When it is time to sleep, Your bed is a queen size which is just enough room for two people, which worked out well because Vergil holds you tight to his side. He is a side sleeper and mostly rests on his right half. You lay nestled into the bend of his body with your back side facing his front. Vergil’s left arm holds onto your waist and his ankles are linked onto yours. Vergil enjoys resting this way because when he feels horny, you can feel his member in his pants and he has easy access to your heat. Resting over your bodies was a light silver sheet which sometimes had a white quilt accompanying it, but Vergil enjoyed feeling cool at night. (being snuggled up to a half demon turned out to be warmer than you thought) and you were one to enjoy being snuggled up in a fluffy blanket. The two of you compromise and often rotate the coverings for your shared bed.

Being held tight to Vergil’s body is comforting which upsets you when he leaves you during the night. Once he left and did not return for several days which meant you laid alone at night wondering where he had gone off to. But he did return, then held you tight again to his body. He whispered promises that no matter what -- he would be there to hold you.

Just as Vergil wakes up during the night, he is the first to wake in the morning as well. It is his favorite time because he can watch you sleep in your most innocent nature. Normally your back faces him but in the morning he releases your body and you almost immediately roll onto your back. Vergil can see your eyes flicker side to side under your closed lids and ponders about what you dream about.

The whole building is quiet because it is way too early for Dante to be awake. So, Vergil takes advantage of it to also reflect on things while he watches you sleep. These things involve his goals which both include personal ones and those that involve you. He reflects on his past, present, and even future. Vergil thinks about what could become of your relationship and it fills him with joy and anxiety.

He never wakes you but simply remains patient for you to wake on your own (unless there are morning plans) When you do, he releases his crossed brows and a small smile forms on his lips. His hand raises and holds yours, “Good morning, darling,” he says, “Good morning, sweetheart,” you reply. Your stomach growls in between of your sweet words which prompt an unison chuckle, “Let me bring you breakfast,” he offers and pushes himself up.

#devil may cry #dmc #dante sparda x reader #dante x reader #dante sparda #vergil sparda x reader #vergil x reader #vergil sparda #devil may cry x reader #devil may cry imagine #dante imagine #vergil imagine

642 notes · View notes

tefilovesreading · 3 years

Text

Long overdue. Charlie Gillespie x OC

A/N: I’m really happy to finally share this one, it took me a while to finish it but I’m proud with the final result. I hope you love it as much as I do.

Summary: Charlie and Olivia used to be best friends, until he left their hometown to pursue his acting career without saying goodbye to his best friend, ruining their friendship. They meet again four years later.

Word count: +6k

Warning: some swearing, mention of a panic attack, angst????

Special thanks to my lovely @theamazingtomholland for helping me out and your sweet words! Also thanks to @thelawiswiththerose !!

MASTERLIST

When Olivia was just a kid, her grandfather used to joke about how she would grow up to become a historian because her memory was amazing,and she believed him. Until she realized that she had an excellent memory only when it came to things that matter to her or that made her the young woman she was now. She remembered meeting her current best friend on April 7th,four years ago. She knew her heart got broken for the first time on March 31st when she was only fifteen, it was a Monday, and she didn’t cry because she needed to get through her classes. Or how she lost a piece of herself when her grandpa died when she was just five years old on May 31st.

She unlocked her phone and felt her heart get a little bit heavier when she saw the date on the screen:

August 26.

Four years ago, when they both were eighteen, things were easier for sure, at least for Charlie. Olivia wasn’t doing bad either but seeing her childhood best friend kiss another girl in front of her wasn’t something she enjoyed. How could someone watch the person they’ve loved for years kiss someone else and not feel like they were getting their heart crushed little by little?

They spent the day with their friends, celebrating Charlie’s last birthday near the river before he moved to Toronto to pursue his acting career a week later. Olivia could still remember how happy he looked sitting next to the bonfire; his arms wrapped around his then- girlfriend laughing about something his friend had said. Sat just across from them, giving the couple and herself some space, she knew her heart was going to break again that night. And it did because he ditched her at the end of the night when he was supposed to make sure she got home safely just like he promised her parents he would.

She remembered how scared she felt walking back home in the dark by herself even when she knew their neighbourhood was safe and she wasn’t far from her house. But she was terrified of darkness and Charlie was the only one in their group of friends that knew it. Olivia cursed his name over and over again for putting her in that position, for leaving her alone, and thinking about the reason made her feel sick. Of course, she knew why he left without telling her but admitting it out loud wasn’t something she was willing to do.

Her phone vibrated in her hand and she rubbed her eyes, making her put that memory away. It was her mother letting her know that their flight had just landed, and they were ready for their two weeks in the Caribbean.

“Seems like it’s gonna be just us, Peanut,” she whispered to the black dog curled up next to her on the couch. Scratching the dog’s belly, she turned her attention back to the TV where Meryl Streep was singing Money, Money, Money.

Her stomach growled, remembering that she barely had eaten something and it was already dinner time.

Noises outside her house caught her attention, they sounded a lot like laughs, instead of making her way to the kitchen, she went to the closest window and peeked outside just enough for her heart to drop.

He was there laughing without a care in the world, his hair falling back in messy waves that her fingers suddenly needed to touch.

Closing the curtains before her neighbors could see her, she wiped furiously the lonely tear that managed to escape from her eyes before it could leave a trail down her cheek.

What was he doing here? He was supposed to be in Los Angeles, not here. She made sure not to be in town whenever she thought he could come back, spending numerous mother’s days somewhere else, or making sure she wasn’t home for his mother’s birthday. Christmas was easier because her entire family gathered up in her grandma’s house every single year. But he never came back to their hometown for his birthday, until this year.

The anger she felt after his birthday four years ago came back like an earthquake, making her body tremble with the feeling she kept bottled up for so long.

It wasn’t just the fact that Charlie left her on her own when he promised to take her back home. He didn’t apologize the day after for leaving her alone or the day after that one. Hell, he didn’t try to talk to her that entire week and when the week came to its end, he just left, not even saying goodbye to her.

Charlie moved out and never looked back. As if he completely forgot about the girl that was his best friend since they both were eight years old. The same girl that stood up for him whenever the mean guys at their school made fun of him for not getting the part after his first couple auditions. The same girl he spent so many summers playing with, countless winters playing in the snow with her until they felt like their fingers were beyond frozen.

That was what she was hurt and mad about. He forgot about her existence and all the memories they ever made together. And Olivia couldn’t do the same because even if she hated to admit it, she still loved him, maybe not like she used to, but she still had love to give to the boy standing outside the house she used to spend so much of her free time when she was younger.

And because the universe was against her, the dog ran towards the front door, barking at it and letting her know that she wanted to go out for a walk.

“We can’t go now, baby,” she shushed Peanut, but the small dog didn’t try to pay attention to her words and kept barking and spinning in excitement. She wanted to go out now and not even a treat would make her change her mind, “you are so stubborn, Pea.”

Peanut was a small dog, but her barks were resonating all over the house, breaking the silence and she knew it was about time someone came and ringed the doorbell to make sure everything was alright. A fast exit, that was what she needed, she could put her earbuds on and pretend she was going for a run, give them a small nod if they still were outside and get out of there as fast as she could.

She put her sneakers on, put on some music, opened the door, and tugged lightly on the dog leash to make her dog walk. Not looking at the people standing in the driveway was a difficult task, because she never stopped greeting the rest of the Gillespie family. How could she? It wasn’t their fault that her friendship with Charlie went to shit.

“Hey!” Meghan called her and turning her head slowly she nodded at them and pointed to her earbuds as if she were on the phone.

Charlie looked at her and realized she was avoiding his eyes, not even acknowledging his presence. Looking at the way her features had changed, turning her into a beautiful young woman, the childish features were long gone, which let him know how long it has been since the last time he saw her in person. Her long light brown hair was now up to her shoulders and a few shades lighter. Watching her walk away made his heart ache in a way he didn’t feel since he moved out.

“I didn’t know the Gibson still lived here.” The words came out loud enough for his sister to listen to what he said, and she punched him in the arm.

“She made sure to be out of town every time you came home, dumbass,” making a grimace he nodded, not wanting to talk about the subject, “I still don’t understand what happened between you guys, you were really good friends, and I was sure you liked her as more than a friend.”

He rolled his eyes, knowing damn well Meghan wasn’t going to just drop it, “it’s none of your business.”

“My guess is you told her you liked her, and she rejected you,” Patrick said with a knowing look on his face. Charlie snorted and shook his head.

“Again,” he warned, “drop it, guys.” His brother held his hand up and went inside, leaving him alone with his younger sister.

“All I’m gonna say is you should try to not mess with her, Charlie,” Meghan held him by his arm, making sure he was paying attention to her word, “it was awful to see how sad and broken she was when you left and I know you said it’s none of my business, but I was her friend too and she pushed me away for whatever the fuck happened between you two.”

“I won’t, Meg,” he promised, guiding her inside so Olivia didn’t have to see him once she came back. But if he was being honest, he didn’t want to see the pain in her face she failed to hide when she saw him standing next to Meghan.

Sprinting back to her house, Olivia let out a sigh of relief when she saw that Charlie wasn’t outside anymore. She didn’t really know how to feel, sure she felt as angry as she did four years ago but seeing Charlie in person after so long brought a feeling she didn’t know how to describe. And of course, she wasn’t blind and knew that he looked even better than he did before he left, so that didn’t really help her situation.

Looking back to his house one last time, she caught him in the window, and he gave her a small smile she didn’t return. Instead, she unlocked the front door and slammed it shut. If Charlie thought that she would act as if nothing happened, he was wrong. Not even his smile could erase how betrayed she felt.

After a long early walk with Peanut the next day, she hoped she wouldn’t have to go out and run into Charlie again. The feeling that he was going to try and approach her the next time they ran into each other gave her goosebumps. Olivia knew that talking things out would make her feel a lot better, but she wasn’t ready to do it. He would want to know why she was so angry and hurt and that meant she would have to tell him she used to be in love with him and how betrayed she felt when he left without apologizing, leaving behind their friendship as if it meant absolutely nothing to him.

With an iced tea in one hand and a book in the other, she made herself comfortable in the hammock her father hanged every summer. Peanut was trying to catch her tail and the only noise Olivia could hear were the birds above her.

She lost track of time and Peanut’s barks brought her back to reality. Crouched in her garden was Charlie, trying to get the black dog to stay put so he could pet her, but she was too excited to see someone and was running around him and barking.

“What are you doing here?” her voice came out hoarse, her body too tense with Charlie just a few feet away.

“I wanted to say hi,” he responded without looking at her and still trying to pet Peanut.

“Peanut come here,” Olivia commanded, and the little dog ran up to her owner, “you need to leave.”

“C’mon, Liv,” Charlie stood up and looked at her with puppy eyes, “I just wanna talk.”

“Olivia,” she corrected him and picked up her dog, “you need to leave now.”

“Why?” he demanded to know once he saw her walking towards the door. She turned around stunned by his audacity.

“You have no right to be here, Charlie,” he raised his eyebrows, taken back at her harsh answer, “you don’t get to call me Liv or come into my house so I’m telling you again. Leave. Now.”

“Just listen to me, please,” Olivia shook her head and went inside, slamming the door behind her.

She was able to take a couple of steps away from the door when she had to kneel, feeling like she was about to pass out, her heart pounding fast in her chest and her lungs barely being able to hold air inside them. Peanut licked her face trying to calm her down, but the tears kept falling down her cheeks.

“Liv, please.” Charlie’s voice sounded worried on the other side of the door. “Let me in.” A whimpering sound came out of her mouth and the next thing she heard was the door being open.

She wished Charlie’s embrace could comfort her and calm her down, but she kept crying into her hands. Her heart too fragile now that Charlie was everywhere, his smell, his touch, and his voice were too much for her.

Charlie picked her up and took her to her bedroom. A strong feeling of nostalgia took over him when he saw the room hadn’t changed much, probably because she also moved out and moved on with her life after he left.

“I’ll get you a glass of water and then I’m gonna leave, I promise.” A scoff was all he received.

“As if you knew how to keep one,” she muttered with bitterness when she heard him leave her room.

He placed a glass of water on her nightstand, “do you want me to call my sister to keep you company?” she shook her head and closed her eyes too tired to keep fighting against him.

“Are you feeling better?” Charlie asked again and wiped a tear from Olivia’s cheek with his thumb. With a small nod, she turned her back to him. “Liv, I really wanna talk.”

“Stop calling me Liv, please.” The mattress shifted when Charlie sat beside her, not wanting to leave yet.

“I’ve never called you Olivia.”

“Charlie.” Her voice sounded raspy and incredibly tired and he couldn’t help but feel guilty for making her feel like that. “I really need you to leave me alone and let me get my shit together. Please.”

“Right,” Charlie stood up quickly and looked around not really knowing what else to say, “I’m sorry, Olivia. I never meant to make you feel like I cornered you or something.”

She didn’t respond, and when she heard the front door closing, she covered her head with a pillow and let out a scream. She hated to feel so powerless, so confused and so hurt. It felt like he just decided to reopen a wound that took too long to close and now it was painfully bleeding again.

It was heartbreaking to see her sobbing on the floor and not being able to calm her, to tell her that he never meant to leave like that.

“Where were you?” his sister questioned when she saw him with guilt all over his face, “Charlie, I told you not to mess with Olivia. What did you do now?”

“I don’t know.” He did though. He knew what did just a few minutes ago and what he did four years ago.

“Is she alright?” the hazel-eyed boy nodded and then shrugged, rubbing his palms over his face, feeling the frustration take over his body.

“I needed to talk to her, but she shot me down the moment she saw me, and then I think she was about to have a panic attack or something. She was better when I left.”

Charlie didn’t remember seeing her like that when they still were friends, Olivia was so determined and optimistic, not as impulsive as he was but always open for a new adventure or a trip with him and his siblings. But then, he started to have feelings for his best friend and decided that it wasn’t worth it to ruin their friendship and buried those feelings by getting a girlfriend just to act as if he wasn’t in love with Olivia. He knew it was mutual but what was the point of dating if he was going to move to Toronto and she was going to stay in New Brunswick.

Leaving her after his birthday four years ago was one of the things he regretted the most. He knew damn well she was afraid of the dark and yet he broke his promise. Charlie tried to put some distance between them so it wouldn’t hurt as much once he moved out, but he ended up messing everything.

“She didn’t even let me call her Liv, Meg.” His sister sat next to him and hugged him.

“We stopped calling her like that after you left,” she explained feeling sorry for him, “I guess it reminded her of you too much since you were the one that gave her the nickname.”

At lunchtime, Charlie made his way to his ex-best friend’s house with a portion of his birthday cake and the Tuna Pasta Salad his mom cooked for lunch. It wasn’t like he was planning to have lunch with her, but if getting her lunch and dessert gave him another shot, he’d even consider getting her breakfast the next morning.

He opened the backdoor just like he just did when they were younger and went straight into the kitchen, hoping she wouldn’t catch him sneaking into her house.

“Fuck it,” he whispered when he didn’t hear noise upstairs. With the food now in a tray, Charlie went upstairs.

Liv was in the same place she was before he left earlier. The Scottie lifted her head when he entered the room but didn’t bark at him and curled up again next to her sleeping owner. Sitting on the edge of the bed, he put the tray down and let out his breath.

“Hey,” his voice broke the silence they were in and Olivia moved in her sleep but didn’t wake up, “I got you food, Liv,” He said again this time a little bit louder.

“What?” she questioned; her mind fuzzy with sleep to understand what was happening.

“My mom made lunch and if I’m not wrong, it was your favorite.” The answer was simple, but why would he even bother to get her lunch if she told him to leave her alone.

“What time is it?” she asked again sitting up in bed rubbing her left eye with her hand.

“Time for you to eat,” the boy pointed to the tray next to her and stood up, “I brought you cake, I thought you’d like it.”

“Thanks?” Charlie let out a soft laugh and left. “Charlie!” She called out and he came back with a hopeful look in his eyes. “I made it,” Olivia pointed at the cake and his cheek started to turn pink in embarrassment.

“You made my birthday cake.”

Olivia shrugged as if it was nothing. “Meg asked me to,” she grabbed the fork and continued, “you know it’s my job, right?”

“What do you mean?” Charlie sat again in the bed taking every chance to keep the conversation going.

“I have a bakery.” She had a fucking bakery, and he didn’t even know. How would he? He never made questions about her, but he thought his family would tell him such a big thing. “Thanks for the food.” And that was his sign for him to leave.

“Thanks for the birthday cake.”

Olivia had her own bakery and made him a birthday cake, it was her job but still, she knew it was for him and made it anyway. That had to mean something, right?

Charlie was right, it was her favorite meal. She could have graduated from one of the most prestigious cooking schools in Canada but not even her fancy cooking school could beat Jeannette’s salad. She remembered Jeannette telling her that the magic was in her secret ingredient when she was younger and after all this time, she still wasn’t able to figure out what it was.

Her phone vibrated with a new notification and she smiled when she saw a picture of her parents with cocktails in their hands. She hated the fact that she’d have to leave a couple of days before they came back, but she needed to go and pack the few things she still had left in her old apartment back in Vancouver and move all her stuff across the country and into her new apartment.

The doorbell woke up the puppy from her nap and ran towards the door, letting Olivia know someone was outside.

“You would never think those barks belong to such a tiny animal,” Meghan chuckled when she opened the door and Peanut started to jump around her.

“Oh, I know, I get startled sometimes and she’s only eight months old,” she let the girl in not before giving the house across the street a nervous look.

“Char and my brothers went out,” Olivia nodded and thanked her quietly for the information, “I was bored so I thought you’d want to hang out.”

“Oh, sure,” she smiled at Charlie’s sister and felt guilty for all those times she said no whenever Meghan invited her over to hang out like they used to do, “I wanted to go to the farm and pick some fresh berries. I don’t know if you wanna go with me.”

“I don’t know,” Meghan scrunched her nose, and the gesture reminded the older girl of Charlie. If she didn’t grow up with them, she could’ve thought they were twins, “I’ll go only if you make me muffins.”

“That’s unfair,” Olivia said playfully, “I’m gonna change and we can head out.”

“I’m gonna stay right here so I can play with this cute baby,” Meghan cooed the dog and sat on the floor to play with her.

Running back into her room, she changed into some overalls and a top. She wanted to be comfortable on the farm and be able to move around without worrying about her skirt getting caught in the branches.

“I swear you and my brother are the only people I know that love wearing overalls,” Olivia’s cheeks blushed at her words, remembering very well how often Charlie used to come over wearing overalls and no shirt underneath.

“They’re comfy,” she said looking at her outfit with slight embarrassment.

“You look great, Liv.” Her eyes darted back at Meghan and decided not to make a big deal about the nickname.

“Your car or mine?” she questioned, picking up the keys and her bag.

“Yours, I don’t feel like driving.”

When Charlie landed his first role, he would spend a lot of time out of town filming, and eventually, both girls became closer. She could never compare her friendship with Meghan with the one she once had with Charlie because they were inseparable, they spent so much time together she was sure she had her first period when they were playing over at his house and both freaked out because they didn’t know what to do. Later that day he came over to her house with a chocolate bar and a single flower.

“My mom said you’d probably want some chocolate, so I got you your favourite.” She remembered the eleven years old Charlie said with his cheeks burning red.

She sighed at the memory, realizing how even such an important milestone in her life somehow involved the boy that was messing with her head lately.

“So…,” Meghan started once they both were on the road, “Charlie almost threw a tantrum because none told him you had a bakery.”

Olivia chuckled just imagining Charlie pouting with his arms crossed over his chest, “he never asked you guys.”

“It’s not that he didn’t ask about you,” She bit the inside of her cheek getting a little bit uncomfortable with the conversation, “I guess we all decided not to tell him about your life like he didn’t really deserve updates about you.”

“I get it,” stopping the car at a red light, she smiled at the girl sitting next to her, “I’m glad you didn’t have to deal with questions about me because if he wanted to know something, he should’ve asked me himself.”

Not like she’d have answered his calls or texts because she didn’t know if she would have. She thought she might have answered if he had reached out for her, but he never did.

Hanging out with Meghan was like breathing fresh air, both girls laughing and messing around while they picked fresh blueberries, their fingers getting tinted with the fruit’s juice. Snapping the last picture with their blueberries, they went back home.

“Can I post this one?” Meghan asked, showing her the picture where a smiling Olivia was holding a single blueberry in front of the camera while Meghan stuck her tongue out.

“Sure, I like it. Send me the others so I can post one too,” she commented, looking at the picture quickly before turning her attention back to the road ahead.

Once they got back home, Meghan took place in one of the stools in the kitchen, while Olivia got everything she needed to bake. She was about to start the mixer when her friend got a text and cursed under her breath.

“Everything alright?” she wondered with a raised eyebrow, confused at her friend’s reaction.

“I have to teach a dance class and I completely forgot about it,” with an apology written all over her face, she stood up and gathered her stuff, “I’m sorry, Liv, but I need to go or I’m gonna have a bunch of angry moms complaining about my absence.”

“Yeah, sure. Go don’t worry,” Olivia assured her with a chuckle, “I’ll take these babies to your house once they’re ready.”

“You’re the best. Thank you!” Meghan stated before running back to her own house.

Deciding it was better to put on some music while she baked, she went to connect her phone to the Bluetooth speaker when the back door opened, and Charlie waved at her with a shy expression on his face.

“Meg said you could use some help with the muffins.”

“Uhm…” Olivia frowned her brows slightly, knowing this was Charlie trying to apologize and make things better, “just put on some music,” she handed him the speaker and started the mixer.

She wasn’t sure how she felt with him sitting on the stool his sister was on just a few minutes ago, but the burning anger she felt the first day she saw him was missing. But they were far from being friends again, she told herself.

“How was your hike?” The words left her mouth quietly as an attempt to make small conversation and feel a little less observed by him.

“It was great, we got a bunch of nice pictures,” and there it was, she smiled to herself when she heard the excitement in Charlie’s voice, “we had to come back earlier because Pat’s bike got a flat tire, but it was fun.”

“So, you guys went cycling,” she stated the obvious just to make him talk about his little trip. God, she missed the way Charlie used to tell her about his day and how excited he was about little things, the same excitement he had now as he told her about the perfect spot that he found to take pictures and how he promised to a couple that he would send the cute picture he took of them as soon as he could.

Charlie used to remind her of a puppy, filled with excitement and energy and she let out a chuckle when she realised he was just like he was when they were teenagers.

“Did I miss my own joke?” he questioned, tilting his head with amusement.

Olivia shrugged, without bothering to look at him, too busy with her task, and said, “you’re just like a puppy, Charlie.”

“You used to tell me that a lot back then,” he pondered biting his lower lip, the energy in the room shifting at the mention of the friendship they used to have.

“I know.”

She didn’t know what else to say because she didn’t know how she felt about their interaction. Or the fact that Charlie was sitting there, just a few feet away from her just like they used to be when they were younger. Him watching and telling her stories while she busied herself with a new recipe.

“I’m glad one of us actually became a chef,” Charlie spoke again, breaking the silence. The girl didn’t respond, she poured the mix into the muffin cups not letting his words disrupt her. Once the tray was in the oven, she turned around and crossed her arms over her chest, feeling the nostalgia wash away and the resentment took its place.

“Some of us stick to what we said, Charles.” The bitterness in her voice made the boy close his eyes, knowing very well the course this conversation was about to take.

“How many times do I have to apologize, Olivia?” She scoffed and shook her head in disbelief.

“You haven't said sorry not even once, Charlie.” Sure he said sorry for getting into her backyard without permission and invading her space the past two days, but he never apologized for the shitty move he did four years ago.

“You don’t even let me talk!” He argued back.

“Oh, come on, Charlie!” Olivia rolled her eyes and pointed a finger at him, “don’t start with that bullshit because you had a whole week to apologize for leaving me on my own when you said you’d walk me home, but you chose to stay quiet and then leave the town without even saying goodbye.”

“Shit, Liv,” he whispered when he saw her eyes welling up with tears, “please don’t cry.”

“Do you even realize how bad I felt when you left without saying goodbye?” she questioned drying her cheeks with the back of her hand, “I saw you get in that car with all your belongings and I waited for you to come and say goodbye, to text me or call me but you just left and now you come here as if nothing happened.”

“Liv, I’m sorry,” he told her, standing up so he could get closer to the girl that was facing him with hurt in her eyes, fighting to hold back the tears from falling. “You need to believe when I tell you I’m fucking sorry for doing that.”

She jerked away from him when he tried to hold her. “Thanks for the apology,” Olivia inhaled deeply, the scent of Charlie’s cologne too intoxicating now that she was trying not to fall apart in front of him.

“If you want me to go, I’ll go,” he mumbled, understanding she probably needed some space.

“I’ll take the muffins to your place once they’re done.”

Charlie stood there, right in front of the girl that once was his partner in crime, but now they were practically strangers to each other and that was all his fault. He wished he could hold Olivia in his arms and tell her over and over again how deeply sorry he was for being such a coward, for leaving her without an explanation. He just wanted to take away all the pain he already caused her and somehow still manage to hurt her again. With a heavy sigh, the boy turned around and headed back to his house.

She sat in one of the stools, trying to calm her heart down and process whatever just happened. Charlie apologized but the annoying feeling that she needed more than just an apology didn’t leave her chest. An explanation would be good, maybe that way she would be able to actually forgive him and understand why he did it because right now, she didn’t really see them being friends again. Not when she was still holding a grudge against him.

Standing outside Charlie’s front door, with a tray full of freshly baked muffins in her hands, Olivia decided to go through the side door. She was met with nothing but silence while she made her way into the kitchen and saw a figure sitting with a guitar near the river through the window. Unlike her house, Charlie’s backyard was next to the river and the woods, where she remembered playing hide and seek with Charlie and Meghan when they were little.

She left the tray on the kitchen counter and headed to where Charlie was sitting. It was weird walking around his house, after all, she avoided the Gillespie family as much as she could when Charlie left and kept their interaction to a minimum, and hadn’t been inside in a long time.

“Hey,” she said softly, taking place next to him, “I brought the muffins.”

“Thanks, Liv,” he gave her a small smile before he continued playing a soft melody on his guitar.

“I still don’t understand why you did it,” Olivia managed to say after a few minutes of sitting together in complete silence.

“I didn’t want to, it just happened and then I fucked up things even more by not saying goodbye,” he explained and looked at her, “I thought I could just sneak out with Quinn because your house wasn’t far, I mean we were right here that day, and I wasn’t really thinking.”

“But that doesn’t explain why you didn’t talk to me that week before you left.”

He placed the guitar by his side, turning around to give Olivia his full attention, she looked at him with a mix of sadness and shyness in her brown eyes.

“When I left with Quinn we were going to her place and hook up, I’m sure you know that, but we didn’t ‘cause I called her Liv right before we did anything,” her cheeks blushed at his confession but unable to believe his words entirely, “that’s why we broke up soon after my birthday, and I was so fucking embarrassed about my feelings…”

“You were embarrassed because you liked me, way to go, Charlie,” she interrupted him slightly offended.

“I didn’t say that, let me finish,” He demanded getting frustrated with the conversation, “I was embarrassed because I called her your name because I was thinking of you in a moment I shouldn’t have,” he paused unsure of how Olivia was going to react at his next word, “that’s when I realised my feelings for you were a lot stronger than I thought and I got scared because I knew I was leaving.”

“Charlie,” she told him, confusion laced in her voice “did you even like Quinn?”

“No, not really. I kinda forced myself to be with her ‘cause I didn’t want to ruin our friendship” Charlie answered and then let out a sad laugh, “I guess it didn’t work out as good as I thought.”

“You know I liked you, right?” her voice was barely a whisper and her stomach fluttered when she saw him smile at her and nodded in response, “was I that obvious really?” When Charlie nodded again she covered her face with her hands in pure embarrassment.

“I’m really sorry, Liv,” he apologized again, and she rested her head on his shoulder, “if I could take all that back I’d do it in a heartbeat.”

“I guess I understand now,” Charlie could hear the soft smile even if he wasn’t seeing her face, “don’t get me wrong, it hurt like shit to see how you moved on as if I didn’t exist, but I get that you were scared and we both ended up messing up our friendship.”

“Do you think we’ll ever be able to be friends again?” Olivia turned around, meeting his gaze and sighed.

“Maybe?” she answered, scrunching her nose unsure of it.

They stayed like that for a while, Charlie’s gaze moving from her eyes to her lips from time to time, debating if he should just go for it or not. It was her that took the initiative and leaned in, pressing their lips together in a kiss that, just like the apology, was long overdue.

“I’ll take that as a no,” he murmured against her lips before kissing her again, leaving the shyness behind and cupping her face between his hands pulling her closer as if that way they could make up all the time they spent apart.

They both pulled away when they heard his older brother hollering at them from the balcony and Olivia laughed when Charlie flipped him the middle finger. He wrapped his arms around her and kissed her forehead.

Of course, they still needed to talk a lot and find a way to work things out now that their feelings were out on display. But she had a good feeling about giving them a new shot, because, after all those years, they still managed to find their way back to each other.

#charlie gillespie imagine #charlie gillespie x oc #charlie gillespie fanfic #charlie gillespie one shot #jatp cast imagine #charlie gillespie x reader #charlie gillespie x y/n #luke patterson x reader #jatp imagine

202 notes · View notes

thgreatestblue · 3 years

Text

false god [part I]

➜ pairing: kokushibou x fem!reader ➜ warnings: mentions of torture, blood, prostitution. ➜ words: 4,7k ➜ a/n: hello everyone! I decided to split this fic in two parts or else it was going to be too much. I was so excited with this idea that I got carried away (as always). I even thought about only posting the ending, but i figured if i was really writing this concept, then I would commit to it! i hope you enjoy it! ➜ ao3

➜ false god [part II] summary: Turning a blind eye was easier when the money was enough to not send you to a brothel ever again, even if it meant looking away when blood was shed. Head above water and you will never drown. The mantra kept you safe for 3 years, but then six eyes pinned you down, and you found yourself swimming in an ocean you swore you weren’t ever diving in.

If it wasn't for the long and heavy curtains, the house would have been a really pretty and enjoyable place. However, you highly suspected that if it wasn't for the appearances, the house wouldn't even have windows to start with, so you weren't complaining. Although it was hard to see with only a small candle in your hands — the flame barely illuminating the few steps in front of you — you had grown used to the darkness by now. The last 3 years had taught you enough, and you knew the place like the palm of your hand.

But what you didn't know was where Muzan’s daughter had hidden this time. It was a fairly common game you two played when her father wasn't home, one that allowed the poor girl to run free through the corridors with no fear of running into her father — that in the last few weeks has been more violent and angry than you've ever seen. If it was scary for you, that knew what Muzan truly was; you couldn't imagine what the girl felt seeing her father losing the facade; teeths becoming sharper at each smile, eyes glowing redder at each glance.

You didn't know what had happened for the so composed and cold-hearted Muzan to start falling apart at the seams, as far as you knew, he never acted that way before; even the rest of the servants had started to gossip about his weird composure. Now, more often than not, you could hear screams filling the hallways like whispers from ghosts, haunting the poor souls that were still lucky to be alive in a place like this. It would give all your body goosebumps, a weird aftertaste that was bitter than any drink you could swallow down.

You turn another corner, still trying to find the little girl. She was a sweet and well mannered girl, so easy to look after that you didn't think it was normal. How her eyes were always looking around, her tongue never daring to say more than the necessary, so quiet that most of the time you forget she was still in the room; her mother was the same.

Two beautiful things that over time started to look more like paintings than real human beings, for society to appreciate, portraying a family that was as perfect as the colors Muzan chooses to show. And for their safety, you hoped they would stay just like that. Everybody at the house knew she wasn't really his daughter — you didn't want to think what happened to the real father, then.

For the sake of their sanity, they didn't know what Muzan really was. Many of the servants didn't know either. And for some time, you wondered if it would have been a blessing being ignorant like that, not knowing what really took place in a house like this. Behind closed doors things could get even more terrifying, that even you couldn't imagine — no that you wanted, anyway.

Turning a blind eye to the situation was something you had struggled with in the first year; the amount of blood and organs you had to clean was alarming, the unspoken fear that would be in the tip of everyone’s tongue but never daring to escape; it was heavy the air every time he walked in, but for most of the servants the fear was inexplicable. Not for you though, always going to sleep with the fear that your blood would be the next staining the floor of his office.

It wasn't as if you had had a choice, neither Daki nor Muzan gave you one. It was keeping a secret or dying with it — and you wanted to live enough to see yourself out of this place, far away from these atrocities. Although it wasn't the best opinion, definitely wasn't the worst. Anything other than going back to the brothels of Yoshiwara; to the hands of strangers; to the dark nights where all you could do was scrub your skin until it was burning red.

It was a time of your life you didn't like to revisit; it was locked away in the deepest of your mind, but somehow the key would always find its way back to your hand. It was inevitable to think about those years you spent on your knees, selling your body so you could eat the next day. Though, now that you worked for Muzan, those thoughts that haunted you as you laid your head on the pillow were replaced by blood, screams of agony and guts - you’re not sure which was worse.

The candle burns quickly in your hand, you were running out of time to find the small girl. Although you had come up with a few rules to turn this game a little bit easier — like not entering any room, not hiding inside any closet — the child still put up a challenge; and again, you didn't want to think why she was so good at hiding.

“Ah! There you are!” You could see, even with the thin light, a silhouette that you were very familiar with by now. The dark hair almost blends with the background; she is gripping the candle with both hands, not looking at you even when you call her name, “I think this time you outdone your…”

As soon as you reach the little girl, you can feel the atmosphere change. There’s a dense feeling settling in your chest that spreads throughout your body like fire, almost pulling you down to your knees. The hair on the back of your neck stands up almost instantly, and you don't need to see what it is causing to know exactly what it is. The fear on the girl's face is enough to tell you that she had seen a Demon.

“Stay behind me, honey.” You whisper as you put your body in front of her’s, eyes trying to focus on the figure by the end of the corridor. The little girl immediately grabs your leg, hiding behind it, you can feel her small body shaking against you.

Not so far away, you catch a glimpse of a big silhouette walking towards you, it’s so massive that you can’t help but take a step back. It wasn't everyday you saw another Demon walking in those hallways, if ever. Besides Muzan, you only knew Daki by name; she has been the one who brought you to this place, after all.

In the back of your mind you kept telling yourself if anything went wrong, it was still midday. You could open the curtains and stand in the sun; though you didn't know if you would be fast enough to avoid a tragedy.

As the Demon stepped closer, the fragile flame from your candle trembles, even the fire was nervous at the change of events. The silence is maddening, all your instincts are screaming run! run! but you can’t move a foot. It takes only a few more steps for the figure to finally be illuminated by the light, the anticipation making your heart beat furiously against your ribcage.

You weren't sure what you were expecting, but it definitely wasn't the man in front of you. His face is the first thing that the light reaches — and if you could hear the sound of your heart beating just a second ago, now it goes completely silent.

His face is a shade so light that for a moment you thought it was transparent; so pale, but it looked soft to the touch. There’s a red mark that reminds you of flames covering half of the right side of his forehead, and another one on the left side of his cheeks, that goes down to his neck. However, what was more unsettling about him was his eyes. There are six of them, bright yellow irises surrounded in scarlet bloody sclera, staring directly at you.

With only the candle light to illuminate the hallway, the scenario you found yourself in should’ve been a nightmare, but there was something about the Demon in front of you that made it tolerable. Maybe it was the way he carried himself, a polished posture you don't really see very often. How he didn't look like he was about to rip you apart - or maybe that was worse, because you didn't know what to expect from him.

It made you wonder who he was when still human. His hair was a shade darker than the shadows, perfectly framing his face; the ponytail was tied up on the top of his head, the rest of it falling graciously on his back, long and smooth. He was a very beautiful and elegant man; but even with the whole picture, those eyes were still unsettling,

“I’m looking for Muzan-sama.” His voice is strong and heavy, cutting through the silence of the hallway like a thunder cuts through the night to announce the upcoming rain. The little girl yelps, gripping your thigh even harder.

You immediately bow, prefering to stare at his feet than to stay under his intense gaze, “I’m afraid he’s not at home right now...My lord.” You decide to refer to him in a polite way, and he seems pleased by it.

Not only was he a Demon, but he seemed important, more important than Daki for the looks of it. He wore a black and purple kimono; the material, even in the thin light, looked expensive. However, what made him hold such a powerful presence, was the katana attached to his waist. And if his six eyes weren't enough, there were more of them carving the handle of the sword.

“And who are you?” The Demon asks, voice low and firm, making you shiver slightly. His eyes are fixed on your face, making you feel even more uneasy under his stare. He takes a few steps closer, the overpowering aura paralysing you right in the spot for a second.

“I’m Y/N,” You answer, trying your best not to sound too scared. And quickly adds, not daring making him wait, “And this is Muzan-sama’s daughter.”

You put your hand at the top of the little girl’s head, her shakiness is palpable even from far away, and you can’t blame her. Despite living among Demons, you had wished she would grow up oblivious to what went down in this household. Apparently, an illusion can never last forever, only the truth remains untouched in eternity. You try your best to calm her down by running your fingers through her hair. Even though the wax of the candle burns your hand, you can stop gripping it, anything to help you stay calm.

As if he was in a trance, he stops. Slowly catching your movements with his eyes, “Are you his wife?”

The question takes you by surprise, and you have to blink a few times, raising your eyebrows in the process. Thank Gods I'm not, it’s the first thing that crosses your mind. However, the hesitation in his voice is concerning; and you have a hard time trying to swallow down what that could possibly imply.

“No, I’m just a servant… My lord.” Telling him the truth was the only thing you could do right now.

If he decided to kill you because you weren't important, it was your fault for not trying to escape sooner. You had hoped this wasn't going to be the way you would end, but perhaps you had sold your fate on the day you saw Daki eating another girl.

The demon nods, and takes a few more steps closer. You involuntarily flinch, feeling his presence and intimidating aura hitting you like a train. Your breath gets caught on your throat as you watch his hand moving closer to your face. The nails of the little girl on your thing were definitely drawing blood right now.

But instead of ripping your head off, he touches your cheek.

You didn't notice you had closed your eyes, but they snap open at the gentle touch. Your eyes grow wide at each suffocating second his fingers hover over your skin. Goosebumps spread all over your body as his strong fingers wrap around your chin, forcing you to look at him, at his six eyes. They seem to be studying you, hovering around your eyes, your cheeks, your mouth.

It feels like you’re on display all over again. When men would come to the brothel and choose the girl they were going to use just by her looks; if she still had teeths, if they were still tight enough, if their good reputation was still intact. It made you want to choke each one of them, making them swallow down each word they had ever said until they were suffocating with their own nastiness. Right now, though, you just fell silent, letting him analyse your face as much as he wanted. You knew you would be dreaming with those yellow orbs from now on.

“Tell him I’ll be waiting in his office.” He says, slowly easing the grip, giving your face one last look before finally letting go of your chin, and you averts your eyes as soon as his touch isn't on you anymore.

The only movement your body manages to do is nod, all the rest goes numb with the tension that settles in your bones. Your breathing becomes shallow, body too paralized to function properly. There’s a growing pain on your jaw from clenching your teeth too hard. You and the little girl stay frozen in place as you watch him turning away, walking back from the direction he had come.

A cold sensation settles on the pitch of your stomach as you watch the Demon walk away. If you were to trust your guts, this definitely wasn't the last time you would be seeing him. And for better or for worse, your guts were never wrong.

II.

Walking through the hallways of Muzan’s house was different since the day you encountered that Demon. Each time turning a corner, you would hold your breath, take a double look at the shadows, looking for any sign of the man; as if he would appear from the dark and drag you to join him — no one was going to miss you anyway. Even after weeks, you could still feel his gaze hovering around your skin, the feeling of having so many eyes on you was maddening. But the worst was his touch, still managing to linger on your chin, ghostly haunting your days, and mostly your nights.

Muzan’s daughter seemed to have forgotten the encounter; she didn't say a single thing about it, even after you took her to the kitchen to give her some tea. She was shaking so much you were afraid she would pass out. However, when you asked her about, she just shook her head, saying she was afraid because the man was intimidating. You wondered if her mind had just erased the few important details or if she was pretending that nothing was wrong for her own sanity. Either way, your heart aches for the little girl, but there was nothing you could do.

Head above water and you will never drown. It has become your mantra since the first time you sold your body, since the first time you laid your eyes on a Demon - when you sold your soul to stay alive. It sure makes the food you eat taste bitter and the pillow on which you lay your head feels like a stone; but at least you are alive, right?

You could only hope that the Demon Slayers were going to put an end to this, sooner or later. If the rumors were true, then things finally started to move, and by Muzan’s temper getting worse by each day, they were making some progress.

You just had to control your emotions, and pray that Muzan wasn't going to lash any of his anger on you; living with him for a few years made you realize that even the best servants could suffer a tragic destiny, no one was safe here. No one was ever safe around a Demon, after all.

“Muzan-sama, do you need anything else?”

It was still morning outside; a very pretty day from the glimpse you caught as you passed a slightly open curtain. As much as you wanted to leave the house and enjoy the sun, mornings like those were the worst for Muzan; where the small amount of light would make him so angry that you had lost account of how many times you had to clean his office after some unfortunate soul left a tiny ray of light enter the room.

Muzan seemed to be in a good mood today; a rarity nowadays. He was wearing that same dangerous smile from the day he met you, plotting something in his mind and letting it show through his face; and if you were to guess, it wasn't a good sign. He had called for you, asked to pour him a drink — at this point you knew it was blood, just in some fancy bottle — and now was staring at you.

“I heard you meet Kokushibou, Y/N… What do you think about him?”

“Who?”

There’s a nagging feeling growing in the back of your mind as you watch Muzan dangerously smile at you. You had never heard that name before, but somehow your mind pictured the Demon from the other day straight away. If this conversation was about him, then you were definitely with a few problems.

“Tall, long hair, six eyes… Does it ring a bell?” Muzan’s tone is playful, swinging the glass in his hand.

“He seems...” You hesitate, remembering his six eyes fixed on your face, his strong hand gripping your chin, and the intense threatening aura exhaling from him. You swallow down, but your throat feels dry, “...Strong.”

“Always so observant,” He laughs, drinking a sip from the glass, “Of course he’s strong. He’s the upper moon one, stupid human.”

Wrong answer. Your mind screams, ready to push the alert button as soon as his features change in the slightest. The first time you encountered him you couldn't even speak, couldn't even breathe. The intensity of his threatening aura was so strong that you wanted to puke, scream, run away; but your feet never moved. It took you a long time to even manage to move a muscle when in his presence — all the time he acted amused, and you didn't expect less from a monster savouring the distress of a mere human.

You knew the Demon… Kokushibou was powerful just by his presence, but everything made sense now; the authoritarian semblance of dominance each of his movements seemed to carry, how different his aura was from Daki; even though she was powerful, she still acted like a self absorbed teenager.

“But I’m asking about your first impression,” If he was angry, you couldn't tell, the way Muzan quickly changed emotions was scary, but most of the time, dangerous, “What do you really think about him?”

“He seems to be respectful and polite…” It wasn't a complete lie; Kokushibou did look like he was someone important in his other life, his clothes were clean and tidy. And not trying to kill you that day was a bonus, “And definitely more civil than Daki.”

Muzan laughs again, showing off his teeth, but seeming content with your answer. He studies you while drinking another sip from the glass, and you try to do your best by staying still, but under his gaze no one could ever remain calm, or sane. Your heart beats fast in your chest as the minutes drag by. It’s agonizing, staying in the same room as him for longer than necessary.

“Well, I called you here to say that I don't need your services anymore.” He finally drops the bomb on your lap, and you can’t do much then stare at the explosion forming on your hands.

“Did I do something wrong, Muzan-sama?” You ask, but your voice is weak.

Panic starts to settle on your stomach, did you say something you shouldn't? Have you done something that he didn't like? Did he see through your facade and now was going to kill you? A torrent of thoughts starts to flood your mind as anxiety settles under your skin, making you sweat.

“No, actually you're more than perfect.” Muzan says, rather uninterested “But i don't care about that child anymore, so i don't see why keep pretending”

A cold shiver runs down your spine as he says those words as if he was getting rid of trash. Somehow, in the back of your mind, you knew this moment was going to happen. It was a matter of time until Muzan decided to drop the act and move on as if nothing happened.

He didn't care about anyone but himself. You could only hope he was merciful enough to kill them quickly, heart breaking with the thought of that little girl seeing him as the monster he truly was in her final moments before her death. What a nightmare, what twisted fucking world.

“You've been great. It's a shame you don't want to become a demon, could be one of the best and easily one of my favorites.”

“It is an honor to hear that, Muzan-sama.” You don’t sound like yourself; you can’t even process what he’s saying while you think about mother and daughter, years trying their best to please Muzan only to find death by his own hands. Tears threaten to fall from your eyes but you hold them as much as you can, it would only piss him off seeing you being emotive, caring about someone.

“Then why don't you want to turn into one?”

When you don't answer, he sighs loudly, closing the book he was reading. The sound takes you out of your thoughts, making you jump; heartbeat on your ears. He murmurs something under his breath, you’re so lucky you don’t have any idea, before getting up. With his back to you, he studies the painting on the wall of his office. It’s a strange combination of flowers and blood, but it strangely suits him.

“Since you've a good reputation, I’ve already guaranteed another job for you.” Muzan turns his head,

“Thank you so much…” You try to say between the cacophony of thoughts swinging around your head. It’s hard to keep the tears from falling down, it’s hard to think about anything else than the poor family being torn apart for his amusement.

“Pack your things, you're going to work for Kokushibou now.”

There’s a painful pause on your heart, and you could swear you were going to collapse right in the moment. Your mind goes blank, fear crossing your eyes as you remember his touch on your chin, the cold yet burning feeling of his stare on each part of your face.

“You just said you think he’s respectful, do you have a problem with him that you didn't tell me about it?” Muzan turns his head, red eyes glowing in the thin light of the room; it’s deadly.

“I don't, Muzan-sama. It’s going to be a honor.” You lie, because that’s the only thing you can do right now.

“Well then, you're dismissed.”

You don’t know how you made it to your room, how you packed your things and cleaned the room you called home for years, one last time. It felt like you were numb to everything, still not being able to process what was happening, where you were going, and who you were going to be working for. At some point your cheeks were thick with tears but you didn't feel sad for yourself, not entirely, it was how abrupt the world was. How abrupt things changed and you couldn't have a single say about it.

That’s why you never got attached to anyone, that’s why you never let your guard down. And even when you didn’t have any type of attachment, the world still manages to pull the rug beneath your feet. You don't even try to look for the little girl — not that you had the opportunity, either way.

As you stare at the view from the window of the train, you can at least relax for the first time in years. Not being surrounded by the overpowering aura that Muzan always carried with himself was so relieving that you could feel yourself taking a few deep breaths, smelling the air of the mountains. Trying to enjoy the ride as much as you could, you didn't want to think about what kind of place Kokushibou lived, or how your life would be once you step in.

It was night when you arrived at the designed station, it was far away from the city, and you were already missing the noise and the traffic, but maybe changing scenarios was something good - you had to keep telling yourself to be positive about this. It couldn't be worse than living with Muzan, right? Right.

You were welcomed by an old lady, she was waiting for you at the platform, waving at you as you got off the train. Since you didn't have many belongings, you only brought a small suitcase with you.

“You must be Y/N, nice to meet you.” She gently says, smiling at you.

“Yes, I am. Nice to meet you too.” You bow in respect. The old lady pats your head and you immediately feel safer. If the rest of the servants were like her, then maybe Kokushibou was indeed a respectful man.

The tension building up on your body slowly started to calm down as the servant explained what you would have to do. It was easy and simple, washing the bed sheets, cleaning the house, taking care of the garden. You never imagined yourself working under such a mundade setting like this; it was going to be interesting, to say the least.

However, the odd feeling that something was wrong still lingered — your gut still poking you with worries and alerts — and you couldn't just ignore it, but for now, you tucked it underneath your hopes, wishing it was enough to keep them at bay.

The wagon stopped in front of an elegant archway, and as you helped the old lady get down from it, you studied the beautiful front yard, with a colorful garden and a variety of trees. There was a pathway of cobblestones that led to the house; witch was big and very tradicional.

Walking in silence towards the house, your eyes flew around, trying to enjoy each glimpse of nature. It has been so long since you have seen so many different colors, vibrant even under the moonlight. You touch a few flowers, fingers brushing against the delicate petals; the smell of them cleans your mind, making a tiny smile tug on the corner of your lips.

However, as soon as your eyes drifted back to the house, the tiny smile died on your lips, sending you back to reality. Kokushibou was standing right in front of the porch, his hand was resting on his sword. You held your breath as you finally arrived at the house, bowing as soon as you were introduced.

Kokushibou studied you for a long moment before saying “Welcome, Y/N.”

#kokushibou #kokushibou x reader #demon slayer #kimetsu no yaiba #kny x reader #kny #sometimes i write

207 notes · View notes

httpjeon · 5 years

Text

made of stardust: folia — seokjin (m.)

seokjin/reader | alien!au | fluff, smut

wordcount: 9.5k

contents: alien dick!seokjin (he has tentacles), intoxication, kissing under the influence, seokjin rlly cares about consent, squirting, vaginal and anal sex, light size kink, LOTS of kissing, seokjin knows he's good looking

— synopsis: stressed from work, you're sent on vacation to the beautiful, tropical planet of Liana where you meet a beautiful Folian man named Seokjin, who makes your vacation 10x better.

note: the first installment of mosd! ik it's been pretty anticipated; seokjin's version is the least convoluted and messy of the bunch so that's why he's first! taehyung is next!

blog masterlist — made of stardust masterlist

With a smile on your face, you inhaled the crisp, sweet scent that carried on the breeze. Adjusting your grip on your suitcase, you gazed out towards where you heard the soothing crashing of waves hitting the shore.

"Miss. ______?" you jumped at the sound of someone saying your name, drawing your attention away from the ocean.

"Um, yes that's me," you smiled, meeting the dazzling smile of a young woman.

"I'm Yura, I'll be your guide," she said, "I'll show you to your hotel."

"That would be lovely," you nodded, following her towards a black vehicle — a craft you had gotten used to seeing already.

She helped you load your suitcase into the trunk before opening the passenger door to let you in. You relaxed into the plush, red leather seat with a sigh and let your eyes drift towards the window. The sight of beautiful architecture and foliage passed by and you could just feel the built up stress beginning to evaporate.

At first, you hadn't wanted to go on vacation but eventually, you were urged to do so by your supervisors. As part of your job, they figured they could send you to Liana — a beautiful, tropical planet teeming with rain forests and life.

The planet was part of six in a solar system called the Vela System in the Fanet IV galaxy. It was a recently opened galaxy as part of the Interplanetary Relations Commission’s goal of making every galaxy accessible for visitation. Over a millennium ago, the Commission, started on Earth, began to expand from nearby planets to nearby solar systems and eventually nearby galaxies. While there were over 500,000 galaxies currently under the IRC’s treaty, more and more galaxies opened every month. The Fanet IV’s capital planet, Vulia, was the first to allow an IRC Embassy to be built and eventually the Commission’s reach expanded to all the planets.

Liana was the second, and most eager to open, the race of aliens known as Folia, excited to show their beautiful planet off to anyone. As a result, it quickly became somewhat of a vacation resort.

"You'll be staying in Vano's most prestigious hotel," Yura explained, making you break your gaze from the window to look at her, "You'll have direct access to private springs and you'll be right on the shore of the beach, it's really lovely."

"Wow, I can't wait," you smiled, gazing out the window once again.

It wasn't too long before you were pulling into a parking space outside a gigantic building — taller than anything you'd ever seen on Earth. You gaped at the hotel — the sign written in the native Folian script which you hadn't had the chance to learn yet.

Yura opened the trunk and pulled your suitcase from inside, extending the handle before motioning for you to follow her. You hurried your footsteps, unable to help but gape at the beautiful trees and plants that lined the hotel aesthetically.

The inside was beautiful, the walls, floor, and ceiling were made of marble-like stone that shimmered underneath the light. There was a young man at the counter, who smiled at the sight of you.

"Welcome! You're Miss. _____, I presume?" he asked, typing something on the hologram computer in front of him, "Your room is 1807 — this card will let you in."

You took the metal card from his hands, a little light blinking green on the end. You thanked him and pocketed it, following Yura towards the elevator.

She pressed several buttons on the wall, foreign words flashing across the touch screen as she tapped away on it with a well manicured finger. In the blink of an eye, the doors were opening to a beautiful hallway decorated with red and black accents. Stepping out, you felt your feet sink into the carpet slightly, making you lose your balance.

"Oh!" Yura gasped and grabbed your arm, giggling softly as you finally caught your balance, "Careful there..."

"Wasn't expecting that," you mumbled, stepping aside to let her roll your suitcase out of the elevator.

"Yeah, most people get surprised," she chuckled, "Typically you'll be barefoot out here, so wearing shoes kind of feels weird on the floor."

"The decorations here are beautiful," you mumbled, passing by a tall obsidian vase with flowers such a vibrant shade of orange that it hurt your eyes to look at.

"Yes, well, this is the most high-end resort on the planet," she said, stopping in front of a door, "You can only expect the best here."

You pulled the key card out and pressed it against the scanner, watching the light flash in a series of yellow blinks before there was a loud click. Yura turned the handle and pushed the door open.

You stepped inside and gasped at what you saw. A beautiful chandelier hung from the ceiling, casting a soft glow through the room. There were velvet, powder blue curtains drawn over the huge windows. Bypassing the canopy bed, you opened the curtains and smiled.

You were very high up on the 18th floor, allowing you to see the ocean disappear in the horizon. It was beautiful, the sun beginning to set, bathing the world in a brilliant shade of orange.

"Well, Miss. ______," you turned away from the window to see Yura leaning over the desk writing something down on a notepad, "This is my contact information. I am at your disposal, feel free to call if you have any questions or concerns. If you wish to go somewhere, please let me know and I'll be more than happy to show you around."

"Thank you so much, Yura," you smiled, walking her to the door to bid her goodbye.

Once you were alone, you let out a sigh and kicked your shoes off before pulling your socks off. Smiling, you felt your bare feet sink into warm, plush carpeting. The fibers were soft and seemed to swallow your feet.

Flopping back onto the bed, you breathed in the soft, sweet scent that wafted from the bedding. Hugging a pillow to your chest, you rolled over and gazed out the window as the sun dipped beneath the horizon. Your eyes began to feel heavy as you relaxed before you finally fell asleep— tuckered out from the trip from Earth.

You groaned as you stretched, slowly waking up. The first thing you noticed was the fact you'd fallen asleep in jeans — extremely uncomfortable. You sighed and sat up, casting a glance out the window to see the moon was sitting high in the sky.

Getting out of bed, you approached the window. The moon was brighter and closer to the planet than the moon on Earth and even the light from the city couldn't dim its reflection off the dark sea. The stars sparkled vibrantly in the sky and you smiled. Looking down, you could see the tide was hitting the shore more violently than it had been during the day. Backing away, you unzipped your suitcase and began to dig around to fetch some pajamas.

Before the trip, you had gone shopping for new clothes to wear to the alien planet. That included a new, expensive silk pajama set. It felt light and cool against your skin, felt even better as you curled up beneath the thick, soft blanket to properly sleep.

You adjusted the tie of your bathing suit behind your neck, the knot rubbing and irritating your skin. The elevator buzzed before the door opened and you stepped on, shivering as your bare feet hit the cold, tiled floor.

"What the..." you stared at the panel, flashing flights and holographic numbers confusing you. A message in the Folian language scrolled past on the screen and you sighed, deciding to just press the button beneath the "1", hoping it wouldn't take you to a basement.

The door opened immediately and you smiled proudly as you stepped into the lobby. Looking around, you adjusted your bag on your shoulder.

"Are you looking for the entrance to the beach?" you gasped, spinning around to look at the person who startled you. She smiled kindly, wearing a uniform with the name 'Lee' sewn into the fabric, "Sorry, I didn't mean to startle you,” she apologized, bowing her head slightly.

"Oh it's...fine, yeah um," you cleared your throat, "I'm looking for the beach."

"If you'll go through those double doors, you'll find the access point," she said, motioning to the two glass doors across the lobby, “It's a panel on the wall at the end of the hall.”

"Thank you," you smiled before turning your back to her before making your way over to the doors.

You pushed them open and immediately got a huge whiff of sea salt. Walking down the hallway, your footsteps echoed off the tiled walls as you made your way towards the end. You stopped at the wall, a panel blinking on the wall just like the woman had told you.

It took you a moment to realize that it looked like the panel for your room so your hotel keycard may work. Mentally, you cursed yourself for not learning how to read the language before coming. Pulling the metal card out, you held it up to the panel, watching a pink light flash over it as it was scanned before the card blinked green.

Something let out a loud clunk and you stumbled away as part of the wall moved, indenting inward before beginning to ascend. You squinted as the sunlight blinded you and the sound of waves crashing against the shore and the numerous voices of beach goers met your ears. You stepped through the newly made doorway and jumped when it quickly slammed back down and vanished into a simple wall again.

As soon as your feet hit the sand, you sunk into it. Looking down, you wiggled your toes curiously.

It was sand unlike anything on Earth. It was purple — a very light shade that it was almost white and instead of being hot like you would expect from being blasted by two suns, it was cool. Crouching down, you grabbed a fistful, watching the tiny grains slip through your fingers back down to the ground.

You stood back up and looked out towards the water, the surface sparkling beneath the sun's rays.

It was a wonder to see two suns in the sky as opposed to the one on Earth. The larger of the two was similar to Earth's but a second, smaller one sat in its shadow a brilliant blood orange color. Your could also see the silhouette of a couple of the other planets as well — Vulia and Argo as the two nearest planets to Liana, you assumed.

The sound of someone scream caught your attention and you turned just in time to watch a man playfully push a woman into the water. You couldn't help but smile as she resurfaced, shouting in a language you didn't recognize.

It was true, what Yura had said; that Liana was an extremely successful vacation hub. You took a seat on the sand, enjoying the cool feel of it beneath you. Closing your eyes, you let the sunlight warm your skin and relax you.

It felt like you were there for hours before finally packing your things up. Your skin was still damp from a quick dip you had taken in the ocean — the water was startlingly warm as you had been expecting the cold shock that always came from the Earth's oceans.

You held the card in your hand as you approached the panel you had used to get out. When you scanned it, you were immediately blasted with the building's AC. It felt nice but a little chilly, causing goosebumps to rise all over your moist skin.

The door shut behind you and you sighed, looking around the tiled hallway. You were pretty tired, energy having been sucked out of you from swimming.

"Hey..." you noticed there was a glass door hidden away in a corner. There was a sign in the window that you couldn't read and approached it.

Pushing the door open, you stepped onto a warm carpet. There were sweet scents wafting from all around you, aromas that you couldn't help but inhaling more of.

Too busy looking around, you didn't notice a person heading right for you until he ran into you. You stumbled, gasping in surprise at the contact. Before you could fall, a strong hand grabbed your arm and steadied you.

"Whoa," he chuckled, "You good?"

"Ah, yeah sorry..." you bashfully cleared your throat, "Wasn't paying attention—" you stopped when you finally looked up. The man wore a confident smile on his pretty lips. His skin was soft, almost glowing without a single flaw in sight. He had broad shoulders and a sharp jawline, a beautifully proportioned body.

He was absolutely stunning.

"Let me guess...you're a tourist," he raised a perfectly manicured brow at you.

"H-How did you—"

"You all get this dreamy, astounded look on your faces when you see a Folian," he scoffed, folding his arms over his chest, “I'm Seokjin, by the way.”

"______...and um...I've met several Folians...since I've been here..." you mumbled, his voice alone making your eyes flutter.

"Nah," he shook his head, leaning closer, "Vano is actually predominantly IRC territory now, you know where all the embassies and foreign politicians come to stay and whatnot. Folians don't really hang around the resort," he grinned, meeting your gaze, "...you'll know when you see a pure-blooded Folain," he grinned, "Like myself."

"I-If...um..." his smile was so dazzling it left your brain scrambled for a second before you shook your head and continued, "If it's not common then why are you here?"

"Well," he chuckled and shrugged his shoulders, "The springs here are...insane."

"The springs?" you asked.

He nodded, "You haven't heard?"

"I mean...my travel guide told me there are some but..." you shrugged, motioning for him to continue.

"Oh, man," he smiled, "They're amazing — literally the best in the galaxy,” it was clear he was boasting, obviously feeling a strong sense of pride over the claim.

"Is that so?" you asked, allowing a small smile to come to your own face.

"Yeah," licking his lips, he shoved his hands in his pockets. Inhaling, you caught a whiff of his cologne and it smelled absolutely amazing. His eyes raked over your form and you became acutely aware that you were still wearing your bikini top, "You know, it's better...going with someone."

You crossed your arms over your chest and cocked your head to the side, "Are you asking me to go to the springs with you?"

"Yeah, I," he chuckled, nodding his head, "I guess I am."

"First, tell me what this place is," you said, motioning around the room.

"Oh, it's just a massage parlor," he responded, "People come in for a rubdown after being on the beach so they can go back to their rooms and relax. I got one before you came in."

You hummed, "I'll have to check it out..."

"So...you coming with me?" he asked, already making way for the door.

"Oh, uh yeah," you hurried after him, slipping through the door before it closed behind him.

You followed closely behind him, staring up at the back of his head. It made you realize that he was pretty tall. Too entranced in watching his hair bounce and the confident way he walked, you didn't pay attention to where you were going.

Suddenly, he stopped and you bumped into his back with a grunt.

“Hey…” you mumbled, stepping away to see him looking over his shoulder at you with a smirk on his face.

“Lost in thought?” he teased, raising a brow.

“No,” you lied, making him scoff.

“Sure, anyway, we're here,” he said, pulling a plush green curtain aside to wave you in.

Stepping past, you gasped at what you saw. Walls of shimmering rock closed in the space surrounding the spring. You could see steam rising off the surface of the water and it made your skin grow sticky from the humidity in the air.

“Come on then,” his voice was muffled as he was pulling his shirt over his head.

Your mouth went dry at the sight of his body; he was well built, and his skin was beginning to shine from the humidity. He reached down and unbuttoned his jeans, making you gasp and cover your eyes.

“Hey now,” he chuckled, “I don't know what you expected to see but…” he trailed off and you took your hands off your eyes to see he was already half submerged in the water.

“Y-You can't just do that,” you complained, pulling off the leggings you wore over your bikini bottoms.

“Do what?” he sighed, leaning back against the rocks lining the spring.

“Strip like that, are you even wearing anything?” you asked, finally making your way towards the water.

“Of course I am!” he gasped, “You’re not lucky enough to see me naked.”

“Oh the burden,” you replied sarcastically, rolling your eyes as he laughed.

You dipped your toes into the water and hissed at the heat. Your skin quickly adjusted and you were able to comfortably slip into the water and make your way over to where he was sitting.

“Does no one come here?” you asked, referring to how empty it was.

“Eh,” he shrugged, “I guess it's just not a busy time.”

You both fell into a comfortable silence, relaxing and closing your eyes as you let the heat of the spring ease all the tension your body retained. You could literally feel the stress melting off.

The peace was interrupted by boisterous laughter coming from the entrance way. You jumped as a couple of guys wandered in joking and goofing off with one another.

Your eyes were fixated on them — their good looks on par with Seokjin’s. You followed them with your gaze, unable to break away as the men shed their shirts and prepared to enter the spring.

“Hey,” you jumped when you felt Seokjin’s breath against your ear. Glancing at him, you found you were inches away from his face, “I know they're good looking, but you're here with me...shouldn't your attention be on me?”

“U-Um...I’m sorry…” you muttered, heart stuttering in your chest when you noticed how thick and pretty his lips were.

He smiled, “Good girl.”

Despite the fact you were submerged in a hot spring, you felt a shiver go down your spine.

Your trip was cut off shortly after when he let you know that he had somewhere he needed to be. You bid him goodbye and returned to your room, the memory of the beautiful Folian man lingering in your mind as you curled up to sleep that night.

You stepped out into the hallway, your flip flops dangling from your hand as you turned around and checked to make sure your door properly locked. Suddenly, a heavy hand landed on your shoulder and you swallowed down a scream as you spun around to see who it was.

“Seokjin,” you greeted with a smile, quickly relaxing, “You look nice.”

“Thanks,” he grinned, looking down at his own outfit. He was dressed nicely, black slacks and a white button down that had the sleeves rolled up with the first few buttons undone to expose his chest and collar bones. His hair was combed back to show his forehead and you could only say he looked like a model.

If he were a man on Earth he'd probably be the top male model in the industry with his good looks.

“What're you doing here?” you asked, adjusting your bag on your shoulder.

“I'm staying on this floor,” he replied, “Just happened to see you when I was heading to the elevator.”

“Oh, well that’s a coincidence,” you smiled, beginning to turn away to go to the elevator.

“Why're you going to the beach so late, it's starting to get dark?” he asked, halting you.

“The beach is really pretty at night,” you explained, “It's pretty common on Earth so I thought it might be fun here as well.”

“I see,” he hummed and shoved his hands into his pockets. He shifted on his feet almost awkwardly and you took that as your cue to let him escape the conversation.

“Well, I’ll see you later,” you offered him a small wave over your shoulder before you once again turned to make your leave.

"Hey, wait!" he called and you stopped again, turning to see him walking closer to you, "You haven't been here long right?"

"Just a couple days, why?" you asked.

"Well," he cleared his throat and shrugged his shoulders, "I was wondering if you had a chance to see...what Liana really has to offer."

"What do you mean?" your question caused a small smirk to appear on his lips and he leaned even closer so that you could see the way the lights reflected off his dark irises.

"I mean, outside of this resort," he said, "There's so much you can see and experience."

"I-Is that so?" you cursed yourself for stuttering but having him so close made you nervous — a fluttering kind of nervous.

"Yeah," he chuckled and stood up straight once again, "Why don't you get dressed up and come with me?"

He didn't really give you any room to argue, not that you wanted to, so you nodded and pulled your key card out. You could feel his eyes on you as you unlocked your door and slipped inside. Leaning back against it, you let out a sigh and looked around the room.

Scrambling to undress, you ran over to your closet and pulled it open. You mentally thanked your past self for packing a couple of more dressy clothes — just in case, you had told yourself when you hadn't known what to expect from your vacation.

Pulling out the tight black mini-dress you figured would match with Seokjin the best, you hurried to pull it on. Smoothing the fabric down, you ran to the bathroom and flicked the light on. Your makeup bag sat on the counter and you really didn't want to keep him waiting so you opted for simple eye makeup but a bold red lip.

Just as you were spraying some setting spray when there was a soft knock at your door. Sighing, you fluffed your hair a bit before racing to the door to slip your shoes on.

You yanked the door open to see Seokjin leaning against the door jamb, fist raised like he was going to knock again.

"You're so impatient," you complained, turning your back to pull your purse from your abandoned beach bag.

"What can I say?" he stepped back to let you exit the room.

Shutting the door, you let out a sigh, "Let's go then."

"You look..." he let out a low whistle, eyes scanning your entire body, "You look really good...you almost look better than me."

"Oh real flattering," you mumbled sarcastically, smiling when you heard him chuckling behind you.

When you left the hotel building, you followed him to a car garage to a craft that he opened with the press of a button. Climbing in, you looked around at all the buttons as he got on as well. He typed around on a small, holographic screen before the car started.

"Whoa," you whispered as you realized it was completely self driving.

You watched the glitz and glamor of the resort disappear into a dark, desolately populated area. The buildings were run down and there were few lights to be seen until the car pulled down a small side street with several small buildings lit up by neon signs.

The car shut off and he got out, opening the door for you as he waited for you by the sidewalk. Once out of the car, you could hear the deafening bass of music coming from the buildings surrounding you.

"We're going here," he grabbed your wrist, tugging you in the direction of a building lit up with the sign 'The Core' flickering above the blacked out door.

The floor was packed with people dancing and moving to the rhythm of the music. Cigarette smoke burned your eyes and made you cough as you let Seokjin lead you through the crowd. Reaching the end of dancefloor, he pulled you in the direction of another doorway obscured by a black curtain.

As soon as you stepped inside, you were knocked breathless in shock at what you saw. Inside there were dozens of lounge chairs and couches filled with people. Women sat on men's laps on the lounge chairs while men laid above women on the couches — all of them with wandering hands and lips locked in heated kisses.

Your mouth was dry at the shameless displays of intimacy, all of them practically having sex right there in the open. Seokjin didn't even cast a fleeting glance towards the people, instead tugging you in the direction of the empty bar counter.

Once seated, you were able to see another doorway beyond the wall with lights flashing from within. You leaned back a bit to see a woman pressed against the wall, arms wrapped around another woman's neck as they kissed. Blushing, you avert your gaze and glanced down at the shiny bar countertop.

"You got anything like this on Earth?" he asked, talking a bit louder to be heard over the muffled music coming from the other room.

"Um..." you clear your throat and shake your head, "I mean...we have nightclubs but...no one does..." you motioned towards the people and he chuckled.

"Well," he shrugged and raised his hand to wave the bartender over, "Get me some Red."

"Sure thing," the bartender nodded and turned his back to prepare the drink.

You watched his hands move to dispense some red liquid into a glass cup adorned with gold and jewel accents. He placed it in front of you both and dipped two metal straws into it.

"What's this?" you asked as he motioned for you to take a sip.

"It's a drink," he smiled, resting his cheek on his hand against the bar counter.

"Obviously," you muttered, eyeing the drink with a frown, "You drink first."

"A bit suspicious aren't you?" he chuckled to aimed the straw towards his mouth and took a couple sips, "See? I wouldn't poison you or anything."

"Is it alcoholic?" you asked, pulling the glass closer to you.

"Not in the way it is on Earth," he replied, "Though the effects vary for humans. It gives Folians a buzz and feelings of euphoria...but sometimes it doesn't even do anything for humans..."

You hummed and took the straw into your mouth and sucked. It was cold on your tongue, holding a sweet almost tangy taste you simply couldn't identify. Swallowing it down, you licked your lips to chase the remnants.

"What is it?" you asked when you finally pulled away.

"Blood," he replied, taking his straw to have another taste.

You blinked, brain slow to comprehend what he had said, "Come again?" your jaw fell open as you squinted at him.

"It's Folian blood," he said.

"You...you drink your own blood?" you asked.

He nodded, mixing it a bit with his straw, "It's a delicacy, as you tasted it's really tasty and like I said before...it causes a state of euphoria...why wouldn't we drink it?"

"Well..." you frowned and thought about his words, "I mean human blood tastes terrible so...I guess it's just a weird concept to me..."

"We're not the only ones who drink it," he explained, "It's manufactured and sold to all planets of the Vela System. It's a pretty good source of income for the planets economy."

You hummed and decided to take another sip. Once again the sweet, tangy flavor melted on your tongue and you sighed — it really did taste good. There was nothing on Earth you could even compare it to.

The two of you shared the drink until it was empty and he pushed the glass away. You felt so much more relaxed while he wore an almost dreamy smile on his face.

"So...what's up with all this?" you motioned to the dozens of people who were still latched onto one another without a care in the world.

"Hm? It's just...I dunno, you don't have sex on Earth?" you choked at the question and waved your hands quickly.

"N-No...I mean yes we do but..." you felt your cheeks heat up as you spoke, "It's sort of something more private, on Earth you'd be arrested for this."

"What? Why?" his brows were furrowed in confusion.

"Well...It's not something that's...meant to be seen by all, you know?" he shook his head and you sighed, "It's sort of an intimate act, I guess? I mean people have casual sex but it's not something that people want to share with the world...it's just private for us."

"I see..." he hummed and spun on the stool to face the people, leaning back against the counter with his elbows supporting him, "Here it's sort of hierarchical."

"What do you mean?" you asked, following his lead to turn towards the couches.

"Well, here sex is pretty important for us," he said, "It's sort of a social ranking. Really successful people who are deemed to contribute more to society are permitted to have multiple spouses. Instead of it being illegal to actually have sex in public here, it's illegal to take more partners than your social rank permits — depending on how many more you take the punishment varies."

"Whoa..." you whispered, "It's sort of an egotistical thing to have multiple partners on Earth— like a guy with the most scores has bragging rights."

"That's interesting," he hummed, "We've got egotistical assholes as well but..."

"How many are you permitted?" you asked suddenly, making him look at you in surprise.

Even you were shocked at your own question. It wasn't like you at all. Though, with every moment that passed you began to feel more of the effects of the drink. You felt so light and happy, completely worry free. It seemed like there were no consequences to anything you did or said, giving you a green light to ask him whatever you wanted with confidence.

He chuckled, "You're really feeling it aren't you?"

"Don't ignore my question," you mumbled, narrowing your eyes in what was probably a very non-threatening glare.

"Well," he slid off the stool and held his hand out to you, "I'm permitted a few."

"How many is a few?" you asked, taking his hand to let him help you down.

As soon as you were on your feet, you felt everything move beneath you and suddenly you found yourself crushed against Seokjin's chest.

"Are you okay?" he asked, his voice sounding a little distorted in your hazy mind.

"I...I guess," you giggled, enjoying the feeling of his arms around you as he began to carefully lead you to the exit of the club.

The entire car ride was a blur. You remember holding onto his hand and him allowing you to, keeping his eyes on you the whole ride. His gaze made your heart race more than the drink had and you felt goosebumps rising upon your skin.

No one spared you a glance as he helped you to the elevator to the floor you both shared.

"Where's your keycard?" he asked, chuckling as you leaned against the wall with a grin on your face.

"'N my bag..." you replied, letting him zip it open.

It took him a second to find it, accidentally grabbing your wallet first before finally pulling the card out from where it was buried on the bottom. His hand rested on the small of your back as you leaned into him, hugging his arm to you. The door clicked as it unlocked and he used his free hand to push it open.

Immediately, you kicked your heels off and signed in relief. You heard the door click shut behind you and turned to see him leaning against it with his arms crossed over his broad chest.

Once again, that feeling of confidence washed over you and you sauntered up to him. You felt him stiffen when you pressed yourself against him. His hands hovered in the air for a second before settling on your waist to pull you closer. Moving up on your tiptoes, you pressed your lips to his and he let out a stuttering sigh. His grip on you tightened just a bit as he kissed back, your lips moving flawlessly together.

Before you could lose your confidence, you reached up to undo a couple buttons of his shirt. He hummed against your lips, deepening the kiss before you broke away with a smile.

Biting your lip, you pulled his shirt up to untuck it from his pants, "You really are...so good looking."

"You're not so bad yourself, sweetheart," he muttered, his voice surprisingly deep. When you began to pull at the buckle of his belt, he suddenly grabbed your wrists.

"Wh-What's wrong?" you asked with a pout, biting your lip when you noticed how long and pretty his fingers were.

"I...would love to fuck you right now, seriously, I'm painfully hard right now," he whispered, making you giggle, "But you're not clear right now...and I don't want to take advantage, alright?"

"But..." he stopped you with a swift kiss to your lips.

"Get ready for bed, alright? I'll keep an eye on you for the night," he said, watching you pout as you collected your pajamas from the bed where you had left them earlier that day.

"Why?" you asked, making your way towards the bathroom.

"Because I've never heard of a human getting so messed up by Red before," his voice was muffled when you shut the door to the bathroom.

After taking off your makeup and getting changed, you wandered out of the bathroom to find Jin wearing a t-shirt and sweatpants while laying on your bed. His face was buried in a pillow but he looked up when you came out.

"Where'd you get those?" you mumbled, motioning to his attire.

"Went to my room," he replied with a brow raised, "I'm down the hall, remember?"

"Oh...right," he chuckled at the spacey look on your face before you climbed onto the bed.

It was strangely comfortable, though it was probably the drink, to sleep beside him. His hand rested on your waist as he kept his eyes on you until your breathing evened out and you fell asleep.

You were woken up by the soft sound of cursing and when you opened your eyes you saw Seokjin messing with a cart of food. He was crouched down, trying to pull the tablecloth from where it was stuck under the wheel.

"What're you doing?" you asked, voice rough from sleep.

"Huh? Oh! You're awake!" he smiled, stood up, "I got some room service, I was hungry and I figured you would be too."

"I actually am," you smiled, pushing the blankets off to climb out of bed.

"Help me with this," he mumbled, motioning to the cart, "It's stuck."

"I'll pull the cart while you get the cloth free," you said, waiting for him to kneel down and nod before executing the plan.

He gave a small 'ah-ha' of victory when it pulled free before standing up.

"Cute pajamas by the way," he said, pushing the cart over to the little table across the room.

"I..." you looked down at your matching pink pajama set and blushed, "Don't tease me."

"I'm not!" he laughed, setting the plates down on the table before motioning for you to sit.

"By the way..." you picked at your plate with a fork, "I'm sorry for last night."

"What do you mean?" he asked, taking a bite of food.

"For, you know...kissing you like that," you mumbled.

He chuckled, "I didn't mind one bit."

The tone of his voice had your cheeks heating up. Meeting his gaze, you found the almost cocky smirk on his lips and the dark glaze in his eyes. Squeezing your thighs together under the table, you remembered how it felt for him to hold you against him, how strong his grip was and how soft his lips were.

"Well...st-still..." you cleared your throat and took a bite from your fork.

"So I was thinking," he held the smirk on his lips, giving you a knowing look as he changed the subject, "We could go down to the beach since I sort of stopped you last night."

"Oh...you want to?" you asked. He nodded and you smiled, "Great! We'll get ready after this."

When you both finished eating, you excitedly got changed into your swimsuit while he went to his room to do the same. Slipping on some shorts, you opened the door to find Seokjin making his way down the hall.

He was shirtless, simply opting to wear his swim trunks with a towel thrown over his shoulder.

"Let's go then!" he smiled, taking your hand to tug you in the direction of the elevator.

It was cute, how excited he seemed, "What's got you so excited? You live here."

"Well, I've never been to the beach with a human before," he said, stepping out of the elevator, tugging you with him.

You squinted against the sudden burst of sunlight, the strange sensation of the cool sand on your feet. You noticed he was going in a different direction than the shore and asked him, "Where are we going?"

"There's a cool little cove around here," he said, "It's pretty quiet, not many people hang around it."

"Oh cool," you whispered, having to fasten your steps to keep up with his larger strides.

Finally, it came into view, large boulders and rocks with water harshly sloshing against them. He climbed up first, getting a steady stance on the rock before pulling you up. You laughed when he slipped a bit against the slickness and let out a small shriek of surprise.

You took a seat, dipping your feet in the water with a sigh. He followed your lead, leaning back on his hands with his head tilted back. Looking down, you gasped at all the colorful fish you could see swimming beneath the surface.

"Whoa, they're so bright!" you muttered, gaining Seokjin's attention.

"You don't have fish on Earth?" he asked with a raised brow.

"Of course we go but these are like neon!" you said, watching the way they circled on another, "I always imagine alien planets having terrifying wildlife."

"Ah, no there aren't too many dangerous creatures here," he said, "But Argo on the other hand, place is practically deadly."

"Ah, I've heard of Argo," you muttered in wonder before fixing him with a curious gaze, "Your galaxy is pretty new so I've only heard some stuff...rumors and the like, you know.”

"What do you do for a living on Earth?" he asked.

"I actually work for the Interplanetary Relations Commission," you said.

"But you don't know much about the planets?" he cocked his head to the side.

"No, unfortunately my job is more financial instead of scientific. I don't deal with the other planets or anything like that," you explained, "I just basically make sure the IRC doesn't like...you know...go bankrupt."

"I see," he chuckled, "Well, I think it's pretty cute how excited you got over fish."

"I...c'mon," you muttered, embarrassed by the compliment, "Do you know if it's possible to do like a sea dive or something?"

"Yeah, I think so," he said, "I can help you set something up tomorrow if you'd like?"

"Really? You'll do it with me?" you grinned and he nodded, "I'm so excited!"

You felt his eyes on you and turned to look at him, finding him smiling at you. He reached forward when he realized he had your attention. His hand was warm as he cupped your cheek, leaning forward to brush his lips against yours.

He smirked when he felt your breath stutter a bit in anticipation. Before he fully kissed you, however, he backed off and slid off the rock into the water with a splash.

"Hey!" you pouted, "That's not very nice."

"Who said I'm a nice guy?" he laughed, splashing water at you, making you gasp in surprise. Before you could recover, you felt him wrap his arms around your waist and tug you in. You cried out as your head dipped under the water.

Resurfacing, you went to yell at Seokjin only to find him swimming away in laughter.

You spent the entire day with him at the beach until the moon was rising into the sky. Wrapping a towel around your shoulders, you began to walk with him back to the hotel. You could hear the laughter of people nearby as they ran around on the beach and couldn't help but smile.

"What's up?" he asked, finally reaching the elevator.

"Nothing, it's just..." you leaned back against the wall, meeting his soft gaze, "I was sent here on vacation and I sure as hell didn't expect to be spending it with you."

The door opened and you stepped out, Seokjin following behind you. Fishing your card out, you approached your door.

"Is that a bad thing?" he asked, making you pause to turn around.

You smiled and shook your head, "No, actually you've really made it a lot better."

"Yeah?" he stepped so close that you could smell the sea salt clinging to his skin as he looked at you through damp bangs, "I can make it...even better, you know?"

"Can you?" your voice lowered and he smirked, leaning close so his nose brushed yours.

"Oh yeah," his lips met yours and you immediately wrapped your arms around his neck.

Tangling your fingers in his hair, you sighed into the kiss as you felt him wrap a strong arm around your waist. His lips were soft and warm, with just a hint of chapstick he had applied lingering on them.

You gasped when he suddenly lifted you up, taking a few quick strides before depositing you on the bed. You smiled as he crawled on top of you, resting his weight on his elbows on either side of your head so he could kiss you once more.

His hands carefully slid up your stomach, making goosebumps rise along you skin. You sighed, lashes fluttering when he cupped your breast in his hand. Pulling away, he met your gaze as he pushed the band up until both of your breasts came into view.

Thumb circling your nipple, he licked his lips at the soft whimper you let out. You reached up and cupped his jaw, pulling him down for another kiss.

Giving the bud a soft pinch, he chuckled when you gasped into his mouth. He broke the kiss to leave small pecks down your jaw and chest until he could envelop your nipple in his mouth.

The way your back arched in response had him groaning. Cupping your other breast, he rolled the bud between two fingers until he felt your hands wrapping in his hair.

He chuckled and began to leave kisses down your stomach until he reached the band of your shorts. Casting a glance up at you, he found you staring down at him with your bottom lip caught between your teeth.

Before he could do anything, you hooked your thumbs into the hem of your shorts and began to push them down. He helped, pulling them from your legs as you pulled your bikini top off so you were completely bare before him.

“Fuck,” he whispered, sitting back on his heels to get a good view of your body. Gripping your knees, he carefully spread your legs apart until your wet folds were fully in view. He licked his lips and reached forward, running his fingertips over your slit to collect the wetness there before bringing them to his mouth. His eyes fluttered at your taste on his tongue and when he licked his fingers clean, he knew he needed to taste more.

“Jin—” you gasped when he dove down to find your pussy with his tongue.

Sliding his tongue between your folds, he groaned at your sweet taste. He laid on his stomach, wrapping his arms around your thighs to hold your open for him. Finding your clit, he took the bud into his mouth and relished in the moan you let out. Gripping at his hair, you ground your hips down to meet his sinful tongue.

You grew wetter by the second, he could feel the way you were dripping. His ego swelled, knowing he was able to turn you into such a mess. He pulled back for a breath, licking his lips and looking up at your disheveled state.

Your hair was wild and splayed over the pillows. Your lips were red and swollen from how you were biting them in your pleasure. His eyes followed the movement of your hands as you cupped your own breasts to pinch and tug at your nipples.

“Please,” you whispered, arching you'd hips upwards.

He smirked, knowing exactly what you were begging for. Not wanting to leave you yearning, he spread tour folds with his thumbs until he could see your entrance clenching in anticipation. Meeting your clit once more, he flattened his tongue as he gave it a slow, long lick.

You cursed, tossing your head back into the pillow. It had been a while since you got laid, work having taken over your life. With Seokjin’s talented tongue working your cunt like it was his job, however, you realized just how much you'd missed it.

Your walls were beginning to spasm and tighten. Clutching his hair tighter, your body became tense with the oncoming orgasm. He groaned, taking your clit into his mouth once again.

Within seconds, you came. Your thighs trembled in his hold and he could feel your bud pulse in time with your high. The moans and whimpers of his name you let loose made him acutely aware of just how hard he had become.

You finally began to push him away as the stimulation inched into overstimulation. He pulled away, sitting up as his chest moved with his heavy breathing. Licking his lips, he collected whatever juices he had missed on his thumb to lick clean as well.

“You're...really good…” you mumbled, still catching your breath from the incredible orgasm he had given you.

He chuckled, “Thanks, I try my best.”

His response had you laughing and you sat up, wrapping your arm around his neck to pull him in for another kiss. Kissing him was phenomenal, he knew just how to move his lips and when to use his tongue. You could taste your own juices and you eagerly caught every lingering taste.

As you reached for his swim trunks, ready to push them down, he stopped you. You stopped and looked up at him curiously.

“Hang on…” he cleared his throat and took your wrist in his hand, pulling our fingers from the hem of them.

“What is it?” you asked, worried you had done something wrong.

“It's just…” he sighed, “My...anatomy is different from a human man’s.”

“How do you know what a human man looks like?” you asked with a brow raised.

He chuckled, “I've heard stories and seen things from visitors.”

“I see...well…” you used your free hand to run down the smooth plane of his chest, “Different how?”

His smile faded a bit as he reached down to tug the hem of his swim trunks down. Your mouth fell open a bit as his member came into view.

It was an angry red, clearly throbbing with his arousal. There was one main appendage with four smaller ones surrounding it. He wrapped his fist around himself and sighed in relief.

You reached out and let your fingers graze one of the smaller ones. He hissed and you gasped when it twitched, almost wiggling, away from your touch.

“Whoa…” you mumbled, knocking his hand away to grip the main one like he had.

It was warm, pulsing with his heartbeat. It was slick, allowing you to easily stroke him until his head fell back in a moan.

“P-Pretty different, huh?” he choked out, ears turning red the longer you stared at him.

“Very…” you whispered, “Almost like...tentacles…”

“I-I guess,” he grunted, eyes fluttering as you felt his cock leak even more, “Shit, d-do you still want to…?”

He trailed off and you paused, staring at your hand wrapped around him. Although it was something you never dreamt of seeing or touching, you felt yourself clench at the thought of having him inside you.

“Yeah…” you whispered, smiling when you saw him sign in relief.

“Good because if you said no, I would be going back to my room with the worst case of blue balls in my life,” he said and you giggled as you laid back, admiring his pretty smile as he grinned at your laughter.

Releasing your grip on his cock, you glanced at your hand. His precum lingered on your skin and you curiously brought one finger to your lips. You felt his eyes burning into you as you took your digit into your mouth.

Your eyes widened at the taste. It was sweet — indescribably so, almost like sugar. He wore a small smile, as if he understood your thinking. He didn't say anything, however, simply shifted on his knees and spread your legs apart once again.

You were still dripping and he could see your hole clenching pathetically around nothing — begging to be filled. He was more than willing to do just that.

“Flip over,” he said, holding onto your hips as you clumsily rolled over, “Hands and knees,” you did as he asked, perching your ass high in the air, “Good girl…”

You kernel under the praise and he could see you clench, making him chuckle. Rising on his knees, your breathing stuttered as you felt the almost silky texture of his cock prodding your entrance.

Despite the extra tentacles, his cock was pretty similar to a humans. The head of him was the thickest part as he began to push in. Burying your face in the pillow, you let out a groan when you felt your walls beginning to stretch open to fit him.

He panted, running his hand soothingly along your spine. You were clenching so tight, cunt struggling to accommodate the fat head of his cock. Both of you groaned in unison when it finally popped on, the rest of his length easily sliding in until you were completely filled.

He sat still, feeling you spasm and drip around his cock until you let out a whine, “Please move, Jin.”

“Fuck,” he breathed, “Alright, sweetheart.”

Your breathing stuttered as he pulled out, the shape of his cock allowing him to drag over your sweet spot in a way no human could. Your eyes rolled back and your thighs trembled at the feeling, making Jin’s cock throb against your walls.

“Oh god…” you whimpered, biting down on the pillow when he sunk back into you.

He chuckled above you, holding onto your hips for leverage so he could hammer into you. He let out another curse, head falling back when he felt the tip of his cock hit your cervix, making you clamp even harder around him.

“You feel so good,” he growled, “So tight.”

“Y-You’re gonna m-make me cu...cum,” you sobbed, clutching the pillow until the material groaned in protest, “Already…”

He scoffed, “‘Cause my cock is better than anyone's, huh?” you didn't respond, too lost in the painful heat that came whenever he bottomed out in you, “Tell me,” he snapped.

“Y-Yes, so...so fuckin—” your praise was cut off when you felt something touch your clit.

Glancing between your legs, you felt tears sting your eyes from the overwhelming pleasure as the tentacle on the underside of his cock met your clit. It moved as if it had a mind of its own, your own juices mixed with his allowed for it to swirl effortlessly around the bud.

Your high was coming faster than you could have ever expected. You knew it was going to be strong and part of you thought it could almost make you black out. Watching the tentacle move, you let out a low whine when the tip of it slipped beneath the hood of your clit to find the bare, vulnerable bud directly.

It was the final blow and before you could voice it out, you were cumming. Seokjin groaned as you trembled and moaned beneath him, a gush of juices almost forcing his cock from your cunt.

The bedding grew wet but he didn't stop fucking into you, even as you sobbed into the pillow.

“Such a messy girl,” he growled, cupping your ass cheeks to spread them apart, “Never would have guessed you'd be such a slut.”

The name made you groan and twitch around him, making him chuckle. The way he was reducing you to nothing but a spasming, drooling mess was incredible. Never before had anyone reacted so strongly to him — maybe he should fuck humans more often, he mused.

You were lost in space, your mind unable to think of the world beyond the fat cock stuffing you full. You were sure nothing would feel better than this but the feeling of another one of his tentacles had you second guessing.

“Can I fuck you here too?” Jin asked, voice low and rough as the tentacle prodded at your ass.

“I-I…” you whimpered and nodded.

“Use your words,” he snapped, slapping your ass harshly, leaving a burning sting in the impacts wake.

“Yes please!” you choked out, the words almost impossible to get out.

“Good girl,” he praised, making you whimper.

Holding your breath, you gasped as you felt the tentacle carefully begin to slide into the right hole. The lubrication on it allowed for an extremely easy entrance — it wasn't too big so there was minimal burning from the stretch. It was still there but it quickly dissipated, making you sigh.

The tentacle moved in time to his pounding hips, reaching deeper inside with every inward thrust. The sound of skin slapping together filled the space mixed with your moans and his groans.

Already sensitive from two prior orgasms, the added tentacle along with the one still playing with your clit, leaving you a drooling mess.

Seokjin was nearing his own end, grip on your hips tightening as his thrusts started to become sloppy, “Cum for me...c’mon…” he whispered, encouraging you over that edge.

As soon as you hit your high, the first spasm of your calls around him sent him over as well. His chest met your back as he groaned, his cum filling you.

There was so much, more than you could have expected. It overflowed, being forced out of your clenching cunt as he continued to rut into you to ride the high. Dripping down your thighs, it added to the mess you had made earlier.

You could even feel the tentacle stretching ass open throb in time to every pulse of cum. Slowly, you slumped down as your orgasm faded.

He pulled his cock from your cunt, groaning as he watched the rest of his cum spill from your stretched hole. The tentacles pulled free as well and you collapsed on your side with a sigh.

Your thighs were sore from being in the same position for so long but otherwise you felt euphoric. Seokjin followed your lead and laid beside you, chest heaving as he caught his breath.

“Well…” you sighed, making him look at you. His cheeks were flushed and his bangs stuck to his forehead from sweat, “You certainly did make it better…”

He laughed, “Oh yeah? How has it been so far as a vacation?”

“A few more days of this and I'm pretty sure I’ll be stress free for the rest of my life,” rolling over, you met his lips for another kiss as laughed softly.

You let yourself relax against him, relishing in the soft caresses and pecks he left along your skin. Part of your heart aches as you remembered that after your vacation, you wouldn't be able to see him again.

Disregarding the feeling, you turned your attention back to the beautiful man in front of you who was more than willing to make sure this vacation would be one that you remember for the rest of your life.

3K notes · View notes

hoodoo12 · 3 years

Text

The Ties That Bind (And How to Follow Them) 3/?

@bunnys-beetlejuice-blog @werwulfy @mel-time @rainingpaint @infptarius @monsterlovinghours @turtlepated @strange-n-unbluusual @heresathreebee @sweetcat-666 @genderless-cryptid @fireflower1015 @go-whovian-universe

Monday at the archives went by uneventfully, though Pate did have some difficulty staying awake. She actually ended up going out to her car for her lunch hour and took a nap, the result being that she didn’t eat anything.

Pate was never quite sure these days what she might walk into when she opened her apartment door, but it was unusually quiet when she arrived home. “Beej?” she called out. He’d taken off once or twice before, taking care of she didn’t know what business she didn’t know where, but he’d usually be back before bedtime. Feeling a little more energized thanks to her nap but famished from her skipped meal, Pate changed into loungewear, scrubbed off her makeup, and started preparations for dinner. It didn’t take long, and she would ordinarily wait for Beetlejuice to return from his roaming but she was starved and quickly scarfed down her portion, keeping Beej’s helping warm with a foil tent over the plate.

Unsure what to do with herself with the specter gone, Pate curled up on the couch and put on an animal documentary to wait for him.

⁂

He worked it down to a system.

Find a crack, enlarge it enough to send a tentacle or two to start searching for the next one while he forced the rest of himself through. A few times he was slowed when the scouting tendrils took longer to find the next exit point, and once he was stymied because a crack was above the ‘window’. He had no idea if anyone on the other side of that mirror saw him, or what they thought as he shimmied up the inside of the glass like a striped spider right out of a nightmare.

As Beetlejuice expected, there was no rhyme or reason to any of this, and no way to determine where he was. He could have been halfway around the world or in the apartment next door to Pate’s. Nothing he saw when he looked out--and he looked out of every window--was familiar. Undeterred because he had nothing but time, he kept at it.

Just because he had time, though, didn’t mean he didn’t ache. He’d never worked his tentacles so long that they were sore, and his fingers felt more numb than not. He had no fingernails left and he could feel the scrapes on his face, left after he’d pushed through a hole that wasn’t quite large enough for him to get through.

Hours had to have passed. If he got to Pate’s mirror before she came home, Beej promised himself a rest. Till then, he pressed on.

It seemed a Sisyphean task, this endless clawing into the white space behind mirrors. Evilly, his brain started asking questions like, “how many mirrors were there in the world? What if he was going in a circle? What if Lillian had forced the illusion that he was making progress, when he was still just trapped in her one special mirror?” If he gave into those thoughts or despair, he’d be lost for good. Then, all at once, as he pressed his forehead to the inside of yet another pane of glass to look out, a piece of paper on the outside caught his eye. He’d been through plenty of mirrors that had photos stuck to them, but very few in a bathroom--with the same black and white striped shower curtain as in Pate’s! The photo had curled from the humidity. Around it was a smear of lipstick in the shape of a lopsided heart. She’d been so angry he’d used her favorite shade to add the decoration--with his finger, no less!--but she’d never wiped it away.

He couldn’t see the front of it, of course, but knew the photo: a spontaneous Polaroid shot on her balcony one evening during the golden hour, an old-school selfie taken just because. They’d both been laughing because it had taken time to line it up correctly and not just get hair or half of someone’s face. They’d wasted so much film trying to get a good one. The final shot was the two of them slightly turned towards each other, Pate’s forehead against his temple, her eyes closed and a wide grin on her face. His mouth was slightly open because he’d been caught mid-laugh, but he was smiling too. Both their arms were outstretched because they figured both of them holding the camera might work better. The tips of his hair were pink.

He was home.

Beetlejuice would have cried in relief if he wasn’t so tired. Now all he had to do was wait till Pate came into the bathroom, probably inadvertently scare the crap out of her, and get her to let him out.

⁂

She must have nodded off there on the couch because the next thing Pate knew she was startling awake, heart thumping in her throat. She’d been on the colorful road again in the foggy wood, running from she didn’t know what and towards she didn’t know where.

Pate rubbed at her eyes with the heels of her hands and sighed, swinging her legs to the floor. What she needed was a splash of cold water in her face. Rising to her feet, Pate stretched and squinted at the time on the cable box, noting that Beetlejuice still appeared to be absent. She frowned, slightly unsettled that he had yet to return home.

She padded to the bedroom and on to the bathroom, flipping on the lights. In the sudden brightness she was instantly aware of a figure in the medicine cabinet mirror that was not her own. The initial shock made her jump, but the oh-too-familiar green hair and striped suit made her huff a relenting half smile.

“Okay, Beej, that was a good one. You totally got me,” she said, turning to face him behind her only to find that the room was empty except for her. Brow furrowed, Pate took another moment to look around in case he was hiding and hoping for another shock but there was no sign of him. Turning back to the mirror, where his disembodied reflection still stood with a strange expression on his face, she flashed him a questioning look.

“What’s goin on, Bug?”

Looking more closely at him, Pate noticed that his already mussed hair looked even more awry than normal, and there were marks on his face. Growing concerned, Pate took a step closer, pressed against the counter to lean closer to the cabinet and the mirror with the growing suspicion that something was wrong.

⁂

Time still had no meaning here. He tried the same things on Pate’s mirror that he had in Lillian’s, pounding on the glass with fists and tentacles, to the same zero effect. He even did his best to simply wrench the glass from the wall, but unlike the odd cracks he’d found that was seamless, like it was one solid piece of material. Eventually he gave up and just waited. It was like being in a tomb. He’d had plenty of practice with that, although this was unending light and he could see a portion of the bathroom. That was almost worse torture than just laying in the dark. Pate had to enter here sometime, however. When she did, looking a little like she’d just woken up, it actually startled him. The light was blinding for a moment and he jumped. Pate did too, when she saw him there, and then tiredly derided him for the scare.

He shook his head and said, “No--Pate, baby, you gotta let me out!”

She didn’t see it. She had turned to look behind her as if expecting him to be there.

When she turned back around to face him, she looked confused. She asked him what was going on.

“Pate! Pate!” he shouted, the volume in his voice increasing. “I’m stuck here! I can’t get out, you’ve gotta let me out! I went to see Lillian and she trapped me in her mirror, and then I kept moving from mirror to mirror until I found yours--how long have I been gone? Let me out!” Beej watched her gaze shift from his eyes to his mouth, and realized with growing panic that one, she couldn’t hear him, and two, he just word vomited so much so quickly there was no way she was able to lip-read everything that spilled out of his mouth. He put one hand flat on the glass towards her and licked his lips to try again. Enunciating as best he could, voice still just one notch below yelling, Beetlejuice said, “Pate. I’m stuck. Stuck! Help me get out, baby!” He put his forehead on the glass. The fingers on his outstretched hand, the one pressed palm side to the interior of the glass, trembled as well. The specter lifted his eyes back to her. “Please,” he pleaded.

⁂

Ordinarily after pulling a scare on her, Beetlejuice would be preening like the cat that caught the canary, punctuated with nuzzles and kisses to her forehead and cheeks and statements that he simply couldn’t help himself, she looked so cute when he caught her off guard.

This time, though, he looked positively frantic. His eyes were wide and desperate, his hand pressed flush against the inside of the glass. Pate’s eyes narrowed as his lips moved but she couldn't hear him. She did her best to discern what he was saying by reading his lips, but even then she could only make out a few words.

She thought she caught him say the words “stuck” and “help”. She swallowed, feeling an apprehensive flutter in her stomach. Something was terribly wrong. He was scared, and anything that could scare Beetlejuice was something to be deeply concerned about.

Questions began forming in her mind; how had he gotten himself stuck in her mirror? How could she get him out? The first thought that occurred to her was breaking the mirror, but somehow that didn’t seem like a good plan. What if it hurt him or something?

‘Come on, think!’ she told herself, reaching up to press her hand over the spot where his was in the glass.

Nothing Lillian had taught her seemed to be of any use, it was all about how to keep spirits and specters away, not letting them loose. At that thought she wondered darkly if Lillian might have something to do with this.

“Beej,” she said slowly, in case he couldn’t hear her, too. “Did Lillian do this? Because if she did, I’ll go talk to her right now.”

If the older woman somehow sealed her demon lover away, surely she had the ability to release him, Pate reasoned. And if it meant finally coming clean about having Beetlejuice around, if Lillian refused to teach her anymore because of it, then so be it. She just had to get him out of there.

⁂

Pate putting her hand against his, unable to touch, felt like they were miles apart instead of separated by a layer of glass. He swallowed and ran his free hand through his hair, hoping it wasn’t betraying his rising panic with some odd color. She must have picked up something from his spill of words, because she hit on the person who had done this: her mentor. Beej nodded at her query, but Pate’s announcement that she was going to talk to the older woman right now made him pound a fist on his side of the glass in anger and fear. “Yes it was Lillian! But baby don’t--don’t leave me here!” he shouted. “Pate--!” Frustrated and increasingly worried she was going to follow through with her idea to go to Lillian’s right now, walking away from him after he’d clawed his way and only by chance ended up where he wanted to be, Beetlejuice continued to pound on the mirror. A terrifying thought skipped through his head: What if she went back to Lillian’s and he needed to be in Lillian’s mirror to be let out?!

He’d have to get back to the old woman’s apartment. Frantically he glanced in the direction he’d entered this space and to his ultimate fear, it was once again plain unending white. There was no broken seam, no evidence he’d ever been anywhere but where he was right now. That threw him into a state of even more panic, and without warning Pate, he stepped away from the window.

A tentacle immediately nosed the spot he thought he’d come in, but found nothing. His fingers found nothing. The seam he’d torn apart was nonexistent. He’d have to find another to try and leave this mirror, and who knew where that would take him. Where would he be? Could he find his way back to Lillian’s? A whine that he now knew Pate couldn’t hear escaped his lips. Beej pushed himself back to his feet and went back to the window. “Please don’t leave me,” he whispered.

tbc . . .

#writing #fanfiction #Beetlejuice #Ties That Bind

15 notes · View notes

boop-le-snoot · 4 years

Text

PARTY FAVOURS | CHAPTER 4

Rating: Explicit.

‼️TW: Reader is EIGHTEEN! Recreational drug use, smoking and alcohol consumption, deeply internalised self-loathing, very questionable moral standards. Daddy kink taken half-seriously. BDSM themes in later chapters - explicit content will come with it's own TWs. FIRST PERSON POV. Bullying and non-explicit violence in this chapter, Peter whump.

Summary: You're Peter's classmate, a child of rich and famous but uncaring parents. Getting paired up for a lengthy project with the boy was an interesting turn of events and you don't know whether to feel blessed or cursed when you develop, seemingly, a perfectly normal, harmless crush on Tony Stark. Fueled by feelings of inadequacy and boredom, your life spirals out of control - and you're lucky your newfound friends are there to pick up the pieces even if you cannot find it in yourself to believe these amazing human (and not so human) beings voluntarily give you more than a fleeting glance and an offhanded thought. And they brought cake!

A/N: WE'VE GOT PLOT! Peter Parker deserves better. Steeb needs a vibe check cuz he keeps failing them :( Boomers are hot but ... Boomers. KitKat, anyone? Natasha is a Brain Cell™. Enjoy, deviants.

THE TAG LIST IS NOW OPEN! @another-stark-sub @mostly-marvel-musings @vozit @littlegasps @pilloclock @shereadsinquiet @hermione-grangers-wife @downeyreads @individualistfem

Beta read by the lovely and patient @miscmarvelwritings 👑 - titty gators assemble! 👀

I scheduled a visit to the tower two days after my "illness" episode. Most of my lows passed without any lingering, the headache was gone and so was the nausea. My mood was still somewhere between "please kill me" and "I could eat a lot of cake right now" but it was bearable. I was very much looking forward to occupying myself with the project if only to divert my focus from overthinking about my own misery.

Peter said he was going to see Tony straight after school and offered for me to tag along with him: Tony sent his driver to pick up the boy. I didn't have the heart to refuse, seeing no point in waiting for an Uber on a rainy workday afternoon. Traffic was horrendous in New York city no matter the weather but a downpour took the congestions to a new height.

When I spotted the sleek, black brand new Audi I made a beeline for it, waving to Happy as I crawled inside as fast as I could. "Don't get the seats wet," The chauffeur grumbled.

"It's wet outside," I rolled my eyes into the next dimension. Whoever thought his nickname was in any way appropriate needed a psych eval. Peter sat on my right side looking wet and downright miserable. I had to swallow a string of expletives at the sight in front of me: the entirety of Peter's right cheek was an ugly shade of blue, eye on it's way to swelling shut and lip busted open. "What in the everliving fuck happened to you?!" Breathing through my nose, I fought bubbling rage inside of me. Peter looked like he went toe to toe with a Hulk.

"Flash happened," The boy mumbled, whining and brooding simultaneously. His cheeks glowed.

"That little runt?" I took another pause to steady my breathing, tentatively reaching out for Peter's hand. He grasped it tightly in gratitude. "Well, did you at least fight back?"

"No, I... I can't do that," Peter became even smaller, curling into the seat and in himself. I was disappointed for sure as I wouldn't just stand there and take a beating, but Pete was different. He was sensitive-a total pacifist to boot.

"Do any of the teachers know? I'm guessing this isn't the first time," Sure, I've seen Parker with an occasional scrape or a bruise but I'd always figured it was just him being a teenage nuisance. Curtain of depression I had over the previous days slowly began morphing into cold fury.

"No, well, they probably do. But Flash is the principal's son so they ignore it, I guess," Peter sighed in defeat. "Mr. Stark doesn't know either. Please don't tell him," He begged.

"Abuse thrives in silence," I parroted our sex-ed teacher but otherwise made no promises. My mind raced between comforting Peter and ordering Happy to turn the car around so I could find the shitty excuse of a human named Flash Thompson and violently make it known what happens to people when they get me pissed off.

"What are you going to tell Tony?" I asked Peter as we herded into the elevator, slightly wet and mostly miserable.

"I have an idea or two," The boy answered darkly.

"You have been summoned to the common floor, I was instructed to notify you there is food to be eaten before sciencing, per Doctor Banner's orders," Friday announced, rerouting the elevator to the aforementioned destination. Peter groaned loudly, burying his face in his hands.

"What the fuck happened to you, kid?" Bucky decided screeching like a banshee and attracting at least five of his teammates to come running from the dining room was the best way to approach an obviously spooked Peter. The boy shuffled his feet awkwardly.

"Our classmate beat him up," I answered before Pete could lie. "The fucking runt that doesn't know his damn place. His two cronies probably too," The venom in my voice could've melted steel. I was genuinely furious.

"What's his name?" Captain-Steve growled. I was taken aback at the large blonde man suddenly standing up, fists clenched. My feet moved involuntarily, taking a step back from the enraged supersoldier and Pete cowered, startled.

I stepped in front of him immediately. "I'm gonna need you to chill the fuck down, Cap," The trembling in my voice persisted but I stood my ground nonetheless. "Your roid rage is going to land you in prison if you keep going," In my own rage, self-preservation went out of the window along with common sense. The hairs on the back of my neck were standing up, Peter was downright shaking behind me.

"She's right," Bucky darkly eyed his friend. "Off to the sparring mats with you." He grabbed Rogers by the shoulder with his prosthetic arm all but hauling the blonde towards the elevator. Thor immediately took the Captain's other side, not quite touching him but obviously giving his friend a vibe check. I could've clapped. Not that Steve resisted much, but still.

"Everyone calm down, please," The Black Widow piped up in an even tone. I can always count on a fellow woman to keep calm in a situation where men's tempers almost cause a disaster. "Now, tell us what happened," She approached Peter on quiet feet. The boy shuffled around me looking every bit as dejected as I felt about the situation. "And someone fetch some ice for that bruise," Romanoff's offhand gesture had Barton scrambling into the kitchen.

Peter sat down on the couch, looking at the floor. "Flash has been bothering me since, like, forever and today I just ignored his usual remarks because I had a calculus test, I- I wanted to make sure I knew everything, and I was sitting in a really quiet corner, and I- Ned was hanging out with MJ somewhere and I guess Flash got angry that I didn't answer," Peter rambled in his usual nervous fashion, sentences jumbling together. Natasha kept nodding, simply hugging the boy softly with one arm. As soon as Clint came back with a bag of frozen peas wrapped in a towel Natasha's other arm pressed it gently to Peter's bruised face. The assassin frowned at the pained whine that left Peter's lips.

"Honestly, that dude is a fucking piece of shit, I'm surprised how he's not in jail yet," I piped up from where I was pacing along the large window overlooking the city skyline. Wound up and tense, I couldn't stay still. "He stole a senior's car for a joyride, last year. He routinely picks on the freshmen and I've personally dislocated his wrist from slapping me on the ass in, like, eight grade," Peter's eyebrows raised at my admission and Natasha gave me a vaguely approving hum.

I caught Peter's eye the moment elevator doors opened revealing a panicked looking Tony and a worried Bruce with Loki standing behind them, talking to a man in... Robes? And a red cape?

"What happened to my science child?!" Tony's fury rang high. The engineer rushed over to Peter, frantically checking him over and growling at the state of his face, letting out a string of expletives seeing the busted lip had started to bleed again.

I gave a tiny tilt of my lips to Bruce who had the oddest compilation of worried, confused and amused in his expression.

"You should probably get him to a doctor, I think his mouth is cut on the inside," I scooted closer to Banner, informing him quietly.

"I'm a doctor," The man in the cape announced, ... strutting (!) over to Pete. There was really no other way to describe his long, precise strides. He quickly butted Tony out of the way and instructed Peter to open his mouth.

"This is utter chaos," Loki muttered, sitting down on the furthest end of the couch.

"It is and I'm living for it," I sighed. The situation was very disorganized with Tony flailing about in blind panic, Bruce just standing there, Cap's rage quit and subsequent intervention by his buddies. Then the new strange dude... Loki was brooding and honestly? Big mood. The only person who made some resemblance of order out if this cluster fuck was Natasha.

All and all, it was quite endearing. I imagined that's what a large, close family would look like. When I said I was enjoying myself - no lie there, even despite the grim situation.

"How are you? Are you hurt?" Bruce quietly asked me, laced with concern. His shoulders relaxed somewhat when I shook my head negative. "Hungry?" I nodded affirmatively and the doctor produced a kit kat bar seemingly out of nowhere, winking at me with a boyish smile. I just about melted on the spot, tearing off a block and giving it to him to avoid any embarrassing reactions I might possibly spout in the wake of my recently acquired crush.

We munched in silence as the Cape Guy explained to Peter (and anxious Tony) that a few butterfly stitches would be needed as well as CT scan to rule out a possible concussion. At that point Tony was steadily turning purple in colour, rage and anxiety combining for a large storm that no doubt will hit sooner or later.

I felt responsible, I guess. Peter must've known Tony was going to react so strongly to his science son getting hurt and well, I hated seeing Tony so mad and helpless. On soft feet, I padded over to the engineer, making sure to stay within direct line of vision. "Tones?" He shot his eyes at me. He was furious. "Look, I'm going to make that fucker's life a living hell," Tony made an agitated noise of protest however I wasn't having it. I knew I'd be in trouble later but for now, I firmly placed my palm over his mouth, enjoying the surprised widening of his eyes at the frivolous gesture. "Listen, right now you can't do shit. You guys are super-powered individuals and Flash is just a nasty kid. You'll get in a big fat mess and he'll get to go away with a slap on the wrist," Tony sagged, visibly, bodily, and I felt it was safe to remove my hand from his face.

"I hate to say it but she's right," Bruce piped up behind me, voice soft.

I nodded. "I'm going to ruin the guy without putting a single finger on him," Tony nodded grimly and Cape Guy halted his examination of Peter's head to give me a mildly concerned stare. "My mother is a litigator, a vicious one at that. I've learned a trick or two," I winked with a grim sort of amusement causing the man to snort. Tony chuckled humorlessly. "As much as I hate to be the voice of reason, it would be a shame for anybody in this tower to end up behind bars. Even if it would be for a good cause," I finished my speech, patting Tony on the shoulder. The surprised squeak made its way out of my mouth when the billionaire pulled me tight against his chest, wrapping his arms around me in a desperate hug.

Ignoring my skyrocketing heartbeat, I wrapped myself around him as best as I could. Whatever issues the man had, they had to be quite painful if he reacted to the situation so intensely. I was selfish, but not heartless, so I gave into the affectionate gesture despite the inappropriate feelings that blossomed within me.

"I don't know what I've done to deserve you," Peter whined, fat round tears beginning to drip down his cheeks. I could tell he was embarrassed beyond Hell but his feelings overwhelmed him enough to just spill through. I immediately made my meanest big eyes to Natasha and Cape Guy who immediately hugged the life out of Pete. There, all set.

"Now go get that scan done," I frowned, seeing Peter start to nod off. "I don't know your name, but can you arrange that? Since you're a doctor," I nodded to the Cape Guy.

"I'm Stephen Strange," he replied, effortlessly picking up a dozing Peter and carrying him to the elevator. Before I could react, he waved his one free hand in some sort of a circle and a glowing ring appeared with what seemed to be a ER room - Strange hastily stepped through, followed by Tony suddenly withdrawing and hurrying after the ... Wizard? The portal closed immediately after.

"What the fuuuuuck..." I gaped at the now empty space. Strange, indeed. Even Loki's scoff didn't put a dent in my perplexed curiosity.

"So, lawyer family, huh?" Natasha, who I'd forgotten about, spoke up, mildly interested.

"Just my mother," I replied casually. They were the last thing in the world I wanted to talk about, especially after being so upset for the past hour. Man, I needed a drink. My hands itched for a cigarette.

"What about your father?" The spy didn't relent, pushing the issue with deadly politeness - I was actually sure she'd threaten me into talking about it even if I refused to.

"He's a celebrity manager."

"Cool," Her tone perked up at that. "Know anyone famous?"

"Know? No," I thought about all the A-list Hollywood stars I've been around, the endless parade of one-hit-wonder musicians that my dad hung out with on a daily basis. "I've crossed paths with at least half the Billboard TOP 40 but that's about it. Katy Perry was really nice," I added as an afterthought.

"I see," Natasha gave me a thoughtful once-over, patting the seat next to her. "So tell me, what do you have in mind for this Flash kid?"

My smile came out sharp and vicious. People tended to underestimate the quiet, quirky loner and I was about to remind them exactly why my kind of kids usually ended up with either millions in their bank accounts or a lengthy criminal record. "I'm going to annihilate any chance he has with having a social life, a girlfriend and I'll be damned if he gets into college without his parents going bankrupt. It goes like this..."

The ominous beginning of my plan attracted everybody in the room, even Loki. If anything, he offered the most constructive advice and the smirk he wore was positively devilish. Steve, Bucky and Thor emerged sometime during the scheming and hastily joined us, identically grim expressions on their faces. We barely managed to get done with our nefarious cackling when a portal appeared once again, Stephen stepping out of it with Tony carrying a sleeping Peter. The boy's head was bandaged, he looked like a mummy.

I stood up, beelining for Tony. "Is Pete okay? Did you call May?"

"He's not concussed but he's taking the day off tomorrow. Yes, I called May. Pete is staying here tonight," Tony looked and sounded like an exhausted, worried parent.

The urge to squee appeared again and I stomped it down with a hard "Good. We made a plan. The fucker is going to choke on his own misery," I gestured to the people sitting in a circle behind me.

Strange snorted.

Furious. I was furious.

Hands on my hips, I swerved towards him, instantly recognizing the ridiculousness of the situation. Here I stood, an eighteen year old high school student, in my fluffy rainbow sweater and denim overalls, staring down a whole grown ass man with magic powers. I digress, my pride won the race against my common sense. "Ex-fucking-cuse you, Voldemort, that's my fucking friend on the line," I seethed, giving him my best death glare.

"Language," Tony barely held together his laughter, looking at the unfolding mess with amusement. Somewhere behind me, somebody chuckled, then I recognised Loki's signature "ehehe" and it kind of went downhill from there. It's a miracle Peter didn't wake up.

"I'd be careful, Strange, she holds up against Stark very well," Loki's quiet compliment only made me preen and puff out my chest in a display of dominance. Stephen's responding eye roll was more fond than annoyed. I counted it as a win.

#tony stark x reader #tony stark x y/n #bruce banner x y/n #bruce banner x reader #stephen strange x reader #Stephen Strange x y/n #bun writes #party favours #repeat after me: PETER PARKER DESERVES BETTER

163 notes · View notes

mysteriouseggsbenedict · 3 years

Text

the final battle crack fic i wrote in its entirety

since this is the last opportunity before we find out what actually happens 😭this is just utter hilarity so i didn’t want to put it on AO3 lol

contains spoilers for ep 7, some things that happen in the ending of the book, and my speculations for the show’s finale (some are totally crack, but some are more legit possibilities)

As the blimp approached Nomansan Island, Mr. Benedict took stock of the situation. He had with him three women who all looked out for blood in their own individual ways, one secret agent (hopefully alive) on the island, and four very smart children who were presumably with him. He considered that he should probably not assume they are all together; knowing the children it was highly likely they had eluded him in order to conduct a dangerous mission. His stomach twisted at the thought.

Number Two was navigating the blimp. Her face was set in an expression of stoic determination, and the pockets of her jacket bulged with contents unknown to him. She was chewing angrily on a piece of beef jerky as she rotated the steering wheel. Good, good. At least one of his companions looked none too out of the ordinary. Rhonda had hastily compiled a battle outfit consisting of a facemask covering her mouth and nose and a fashionable looking tracksuit. She carried a backpack filled with spray paint that she had brought “just in case” and was now informing Miss Perumal of her experience participating in direct action protests.

“It is an ethical stance, you see, because the conscious does not allow one to do nothing– no matter how small that action is,” she said. Mr. Benedict smiled. He loved seeing the strong character Rhonda possessed shining through.

Miss Perumal looked every inch the schoolteacher she was. She wore neat black slacks, a pink sweater, and coordinating jacket. Her shoes were flat but still made a satisfying clicking sound, indicating a small protrusion at the heel. She appeared composed enough, but Mr. Benedict could sense the anger emanating from her, the determined wrath of a mother whose child is endangered. He made a mental note to thank her at a later date for being such a wonderful teacher for Reynie. If they survived, that is.

Number Two shouted from the helm that they were nearing the island.

“Where shall I chart our course?” she asked, with all the seriousness of a military general. Mr. Benedict examined the horizon. A large tower was in sight, practically begging for invading air travellers to notice. This must be the tower the children had told them about over morse code. It was undoubtedly their target.

“He’s built us a veritable lighthouse, my dear Number Two. I propose we follow its shine.”

It was at that moment that a sizable commotion could be heard from the surface of the island. They had, unsurprisingly, been noticed. Students stared and pointed while adults who appeared to be security details shouted frantically into radios. There was one particularly large group of these adults who surrounded a quite familiar face.

“Milligan’s been captured!” Number Two cried.

“Milligan’s alive!” Rhonda countered.

“Yes, yes, that is...quite the development...oh dear,” Mr. Benedict said, swaying slightly. He closed his eyes and inhaled deeply, rubbing the plaid fabric of his shirt. “I’m alright, Rhonda, it’s passed.”

Seeing as the concept of stealth was now off the table, they prepared to make a calamitous entry. Number Two lowered the blimp into a clearing near the tower and adjacent to the pavilion in which Milligan was being held. It appeared that his imprisoners had been in the process of moving him somewhere to be held or interrogated when the arrival of the blimp proved a delay. When they were about fifteen feet away from the ground, Rhonda took out her spraypaint and shot a stream of fuschia directly into the eyes of Milligan’s captors. Blinded, they fell to the ground, and Milligan seized the opportunity to pick the lock of his chains using the zipper on his pants.

“I don’t remember this being part of the plan, sir!” he shouted upwards, pausing periodically to land punches into the men who were now attempting to prevent his escape without the benefit of their eyesight.

“Reevaluation became necessary!” Mr. Benedict returned. “Where are the children?”

“That I do not know. I left them after allowing myself to be captured as a distraction. I can only hope that they have prevailed.”

At this point, the blimp had touched down on the ground, and its four passengers disembarked. They made haste towards the tower. Miss Perumal took the lead, and when more security agents appeared, she glared at them with such deadly force that they blanched and stepped out of her way. Upon reaching the door to the tower, she found it locked, and stepped aside for Mr. Benedict. He examined the panel and entered a password. The door opened.

“How did you do that?” Miss Perumal asked.

“Nathanial always used that password. Even when we didn’t have any real vaults to guard, and he was just telling me stories about being a secret agent. Really, though, you would think for your megalomaniac mind control tower you’d want to be a bit more original, but– no matter.”

With an astonished chuckle, Miss Perumal continued in her march up the tower stairs. Her shoes clacked ferociously against the tile. At last, they made it to the top. Mr. Benedict was rather out of breath, and Number Two pulled a water bottle out of her pockets, which he accepted unblinkingly. This door did not have a passcode, and so Milligan kicked it sharply, watching with a satisfied sigh as it fell to the ground.

“That’s called the old-fashioned way,” he said.

The sight inside was extraordinary. Sticky was seated in a strange contraption. A helmet that looked rather like an egg was attached to his head. Nathaniel– god, it was really him, his brother– was seated in a chair facing Sticky. Reynie was standing behind Mr. Curtain next to the room’s large window, and looked to have been halfway through removing its screen. Outside the window, Kate hung dangling from a rope attached to the adjacent flagpole, with Constance tied to her back. Her face was one of utmost terror. All of them had paused in what they were doing to stare in shock at the busted down door and the five adults who stood behind it.

Mr. Benedict took a step into the room, looked at his brother, and promptly collapsed onto the floor. The others were prepared to fight Mr. Curtain, but he made no moves towards aggression. He simply sat in his chair and stared at his brother, now laying in what looked to be a painful position on the ground. His eyes looked strangely devoid. A moment passed, then he seemed to come to his senses, and he flared with anger.

“Snakes and dogs!” he barked, his voice a cuttingly malicious sting. He understood himself to be surrounded. He pressed a button on the seat of his chair.

“What are you incompetent fools doing here? And why would you let him fall like that?” he screamed, looking at Mr. Benedict. He then promptly turned an alarming shade of white, apparently realizing what he had just said.

“I mean...of course you will never defeat me! One of you is already down for the count, and I haven’t needed to lift a finger! My security agents will be here shortly. I have just summoned them with this button.”

Miss Perumal strutted up to him, looked him directly in the eyes, and slapped him hard across the face. He spluttered.

“How dare you endanger Reynie! You should be ashamed of yourself, you pathetic excuse for a father and an educator!”

Mr. Curtain had shut down again. He did not appear to be taking in any of what Miss Perumal was saying, but this did not deter her. She continued yelling until Reynie ran over to her and wrapped his arms around her. She quieted down in the interest of not hurting his ears.

“We’ll see how well those security people do with paint in their eyes,” Rhonda quipped, choosing to ignore the scene that had just occurred. Mr. Curtain startled.

“Wait, with what?”

It was at this point that Mr. Benedict stirred. He felt a sizable bump on the side of his head, and his muscles ached as he made to sit up. Number Two ran forward and pulled him up into a standing position. He would have to ignore the pain he was in.

“Rhonda, if you would be so kind as to assist Reynie in letting our friends through that window, I would be much obliged,” he said. He then leveled his gaze at his brother. He stayed awake this time.

“You haven’t gotten any better at taming those curls, Nicky,” Mr. Curtain said coldly. Mr. Benedict swayed at the invocation of his childhood nickname, but held steady. Number Two kept her hands placed steadily on his shoulders.

“You haven’t thought of any new passwords.”

“Touche.”

“What is going on here? Why...why has it come to this, Nathaniel?” Mr. Benedict asked, his voice cracking. There were tears threatening to spill from his eyes.

“You know as well as I do that nothing in this wretched world is owed to us, brother. You’ve got to take what you want. You’ve got to take power. You’ve got to take control. Really, I’d be surprised you were content to live for so many years as some obscure scientist who nobody really respects. Then again, you were always the soft one.”

The window had now been opened, and Kate and Constance heaved themselves inside. Constance strode directly toward the chair in which Sticky was still seated, openmouthed.

“Move aside, George Washington,” she ordered. He rose obediently. Constance fitted the egg helmet around her head and sat quietly for a moment. She seemed to be taking in the situation. Then, without warning, she screamed.

“RULES AND SCHOOLS ARE TOOLS FOR FOOLS!”

“I’M AFRAID OF YOUR FACE!”

“NOW WE HAVE WAITED FOR THIRTY CONSECUTIVE MINUTES TO SEE SOME OLD DIRTY EXECUTIVE!”

“WHAT IS WRONG WITH YOU?”

Number Two took this moment of great distraction as an opportunity to shoot Mr. Curtain with her slingshot. He fell to the ground, unconscious. The longer that Constance screamed, the weaker she appeared. Eventually her shouts were more like determined moans. The machine that the egg was attached to crackled and sparked, and finally, it seemed to combust. There was a nasty sounding mechanical noise. A small fire started in the ceiling, which Kate quickly contained. Constance had overwhelmed the machine. She fell over, hardly awake, and Mr. Benedict rushed to her side.

“I believe that it is time for our escape, friends,” he said, making his way towards the door with Constance in his arms.

The group made their way down out of the tower, preparing for the fight that would no doubt ensue as they attempted to escape the island. Rhonda paused as they reached the outside of the tower. She grabbed her spray paint once again and aimed at the tower wall.

“Nathaniel Curtain looks washed out in blue?” Number Two read, “Really, Rhonda?”

“It is true. He cannot pull off that suit,” Constance mumbled.

Everyone laughed, and the society basked in the knowledge that this was the end of their mission at last.

#the mysterious benedict society #tmbs #mbs #mbs disney spoilers

10 notes · View notes

chaseatinydream · 4 years

Text

pirate king (20) || atz

The two of you swim for shore.

Warm water laps against your skin as you paddle forward in almost complete silence, the only thing that lets you know Wooyoung is still behind you is the soft, occasional splash behind you. The night is cold, but the water is relatively matching your body temperature, so at least there’s been a good start to the mission so far.

You can only pray to the gods that it stays that way.

Finally, you see your destination, a small, deserted beach at the shoreline and swim hard for it. The tide seems to be favoring you today, pushing you gently to shore and in the end, you and Wooyoung collapse next to each other in the gritty sand, panting hard from the exertion. The sea washes over your feet one last time, like an encouraging pat on the back, before it sweeps back into the ocean.

“This mission is killing me already.” Wooyoung heaves for breath, shivering against the cold wind. You open your oilskin bag and offer him a towel, but he waves it off. “You first.”

His tone tells you he won’t take no for an answer, so you sigh and rub the coarse sackcloth down your arms and legs, toweling your hair as dry as possible. Then you pass the cloth the Wooyoung who starts doing the same, while you wring out the cloak around your shoulders.

“We need to cut through the grove of trees and make for the estate.” Wooyoung tosses the cloth to the side when he’s done with it. You struggle to make out his face in the darkness, the only light coming from the pubs and taverns near the bay front area still open at this time of the night, but you suppose the darkness will be good in helping the two of you go unseen.

“Let’s go.”

He takes your hand in his and the two of you tread as silently as you can through the small grove of trees separating the beach from the town. Even though the grove is dark and almost completely uninhabited, every soft crunch of leaves beneath your feet makes you jump, and you have to stop yourself from jumping out of your skin at every hoot of a night owl.

Then in front of you, Wooyoung lets out a muffled curse and stops suddenly. Fear sinks in your chest.

“What happened?” You whisper to him, trying to keep fright out of the edge of your voice.

The head gunner merely rubs his head and you can hear the amusement in his voice. “I was too busy looking at where I was putting my feet and hit my head on a tree branch. It’s broken.”

“That’s terrible.”

Wooyoung shakes his head, hand falling to the side. “Thanks for the concern, but my head will be fine. Don’t worry about me.”

You pause for a moment.

“I thought you were talking about the branch.”

You don’t need to look at him to know he’s wearing a pout, but you give him a weak grin in response. The two of you manage to make it to the edge of the grove without a hitch except for Wooyoung’s little hiccup. You scan the town.

There aren’t many guards, as far as you can see.

“Alright, let’s go.”

Both of you stride out in the open, trying to be as natural as possible, as if you aren’t trying to break into the estate of the most important official of this town. To blend in with the crowd, Wooyoung has even rubbed henna into his hair to disguise its striking purple shade, and you still do double takes sometimes when you look at him. But other than that, the two of you look perfectly normal, the usual shady people you’d find at this hour of the night.

You’ve memorized the map in your head so you know where you’re going, but there’s always the irrational fear that you may have taken a wrong turn, or that they’ve changed the structure of the town.

Wooyoung is still rubbing at his head with a rueful smile as the two of you walk through the empty streets with the odd drunk loitering here and there. “Maybe I should have looked at where I was going.”

You glance at him in concern as you fall into step with him, your footsteps matching.

“Does it hurt?” There’s a red weal where the branch had hit him. Wooyoung snorts as if the answer is obvious.

“Of course it does, it’s broken.”

You actually stop to stare at him in horror, your heart sinking as you check his forehead over for injuries. “What?” Then you see Wooyoung giggling with a hand over his mouth and you start to wonder exactly how hard he hit his head.

“Sorry. I thought you were talking about the tree branch.” He throws your sentence right back you and you give him a flat stare. Then you flick him in the forehead right on the bruise and he yelps in pain, but still can’t stop the giggles falling from his mouth.

The two of you walk past a row of shop houses, and you glance in interest at their wares, peering through the glass windows. Many are selling beautiful ornaments, jewelry, and even clockwork automatons. These are things you’re pretty sure you’ve never seen before.

Then the two of you walk past a bookshop and you read the titles through the glass window.

“Hamlet, Othello, the Tempest…” You murmur aloud to yourself and Wooyoung glances curiously at you. “Leviathan, Religio Medici… The Mermaid-”

The gunner taps you on the shoulder, snapping you out of your little reading session.

“We’re here.” He points at the small, dark alleyway that will lead you to the back wing of the estate. You glance around to make sure no one is following you.

As if luck is in your favour tonight, the streets are empty.

Both of you duck into the alley, blending into the shadows the best you can as you pull the black scarf over your nose to hide your face. You glance before you, the first floor of the official’s building has no windows, most likely to deter intruders like you. The lowest open window is about at twice your height and opposite it, across the alleyway, are a few open windows, where you assume some of the townspeople reside.

Wooyoung presses his right ear against the stone wall, indicating for you to keep your volume down. You watch with bated breath, afraid to make a sound as you quietly undo the grappling rope around your waist. After a long moment, the gunner turns to you and shakes his head.

No guards.

You breathe a sigh of relief and pass the rope to Wooyoung, who ties the steel grappling hook to the end. He spins the weight at the end, before sending it up into one of the windows on the second floor. When he pulls, the rope goes taut.

The two of you listen for the signs of any rousing, that you might have woken someone, but all is silent.

Wooyoung scales the rope first, his years as a rigging monkey clear in the way he swarms up the grappling rope like a spider, and disappears over the ledge into the building. You pray for his safety as your grip around the rope tightens.

Then you feel two jerks on the rope.

It’s safe.

You exhale nervously, wrapping your hands around the rope and pulling yourself upwards. Initially, when you’d first started learning how to move around the rigging, your arms had been weak from lack of such strenuous exercise. Yunho had just cheerfully encouraged you with his usual ‘practice, practice, practice’, and now, it’s paying off for you.

You’re nowhere near as agile as Wooyoung, but you manage to heave yourself into the room, sweat dripping from your forehead. Wooyoung helps you into the room, but then holds a finger to his lips immediately, eyes urgent.

You glance over his shoulder and your heart sinks.

You’ve intruded into the bedroom of a wealthy official, his body tucked up under frilly sheets and silk covers. The bed is a lavish, gold painted affair with lace curtains, and you’re almost blinded by the gaudiness of it all. You nod at Wooyoung, indicating that you’ve gotten the message, and he points to a stack of papers on the desk.

You move over to it as quietly as you can while Wooyoung coils the rope for later use, flipping through the documents marked with a red wax seal to see which name occurs the most.

Ludovico Robertt. A tax collector.

You shake your head and Wooyoung’s shoulders sag in disappointment, but he gestures for you to put the papers down and follow him. The two of you move through the luxurious bedchambers of this tax collector, and to your horror, you see Wooyoung’s shoulder brush against a porcelain teacup on a shelf. It tilts over the edge of the shelf, wobbling there for a moment, seemingly frozen in time, before it starts to falls to the ground.

Your eyes fly wide and you dive to catch it before it can shatter against the floorboards.

Wooyoung whirls around in surprise as you grab for the piece of tableware frantically. It slips from your fingers, and Wooyoung scrambles to snatch the cup out of the air.

He succeeds.

The two of you look at each other and simultaneously heave a silent sigh of relief. The gunner places it back on the shelf very carefully and the two of you continue making your way through the room, every chair, every ornament, and every soft squeak of the wooden floorboards like a warning call of your arrival.

Seriously, you might have some permanent heart issues when this mission is over.

Both of you creep to the door, silent as mice. Wooyoung, holds up a hand, indicating for you to stop, before he open the door a crack to check for any guards. Then he turns back to you, lips at your ear.

“There are two guards in the inner courtyard, but they’re not really looking up. From this angle, it’ll be difficult to see us anyway.” He whispers and you nod in understanding. “I’m sure there are plenty of other guards patrolling the second floor, but we can hide in the rooms if need be. If all the rooms are like this one, it has no lock.”

Then he slips out of the room as silently as a wraith, and you follow behind him.

The door opens out into a corridor, which gives you a view of the inner courtyard. You peer down to see the two guards that Wooyoung was talking about, their faces eerily lit from the light of the flickering torches. You gulp at the sight and tiptoe after Wooyoung, following him down the corridor to the next room.

To your relief, the doors have brass plaques on them with the names of the person staying inside, probably to help the servants working in the estate. You’re not a servant, but you’re so grateful to whoever came up with this idea you want to kiss their feet.

Your eyes scan the names while Wooyoung keeps a lookout for any guards.

John Dely. Christopher Smith. Warin Page. Valentine Dauntestay.

You grit your teeth in frustration. Every second you stay, the higher your chances are of being discovered. Wooyoung glances at you, and you shake your head.

He’s not here.

Wooyoung’s eyes darken.

Goddamnit.

He takes your hand in his once more and the two of you crouch low, moving quickly and quietly to the next corridor. To your immense relief and joy, the name on the first plaque you see is the right one.

Lucio Bartholomew.

You turn to grin at Wooyoung, but then remember he can’t see your face beneath the mask. But by now, the two of you are so in tune with each other he already seems aware of the success before you can tell him.

His eyes crinkle into tiny crescents above his mask.

Good job, Chin Hae!

You give a little bow, before moving to open the door. The two of you slip in, ghosts in the night and Wooyoung shuts the door silently behind you.

Your eyes take a moment to adjust to the gloom, and you’re surprised by what you see.

The room is neat and sparsely decorated, nothing like the first bedchamber you saw. The shelves are filled with books, the floor bare and well swept, and behind the man’s desk is a dark shape lying on a simple wooden bed, snoozing peacefully.

This man is the cause of all of Seonghwa’s problems.

Anger begins to flare up in you, but you push it down. It is not your fury this man will have to deal with, but Seonghwa’s. Wooyoung pulls a piece of charcoal from his oilskin bag and begins to sketch the location of the room on paper.

While Wooyoung is doing that, you glance around to occupy yourself. This man must be an avid reader, filled with much knowledge and information. He almost reminds you of Yeosang, in that manner.

Then you see it.

A sole book, lying on the table. Its cover is a thin piece of wood, the title hand carved into the surface, but you care not for the make of the book. Instead your eyes are fixed on the letters engraved into the wood.

The Legend of Prometheus.

A quiet gasp leaves your mouth as your mind flashes back to the book Yeosang was holding. You don’t notice Wooyoung straighten up in confusion as he turns to look at you, you simply walk over to the book, as if in a trance, picking it up.

A Titan of Greek mythology, Prometheus is credited in most legends for giving men the gift of fire, having stolen it from the forge of the Greek God Hephaestus.

“What is it?” Wooyoung taps you on the shoulder, but you’re too absorbed in the book to answer him. “We need to go.”

“Give me a moment.” You hiss in reply, flipping to the next page. “I need to read this first.”

Wooyoung looks like he wants to argue, but you pay no heed to him.

After the battle between the Olympian Gods and the Titans, Prometheus was given the task of creating man by the ruling Olympian, Zeus, God of the Skies. Prometheus then went to a riverside, and to make man he sculpted, like a potter, a body from clay.

Something goes silent inside of you.

A body of clay.

Wooyoung must sense that there’s something wrong because he glances at you in worry, but you barely notice him.

A body of clay. The word echoes in your mind endlessly, a chant, a prayer. You feel numb, weak and utterly lost.

The book slips from your hands and lands on the ground with a heavy thud.

The noise shocks you out of your stupor, Wooyoung’s eyes flying open in horror. The two of you stare at each other for a moment, neither daring to move a muscle.

There’s a pause.

Then you hear shifting coming from the side and your heart sinks in your chest as your eyes glance at the dark shape sitting up on the bed. He rubs his eyes blearily as his eyes adjust to his surroundings.

The two of you stare at him, and he stares back at the two of you.

There’s a moment of incomprehension, as his brain tries to figure out why there are two humanoid dark shapes in his room. Then it sinks in and you see his mouth opening, your heart sinking in your chest in terror.

“Guards!”

#ateez #ateez fanfic #ateez fanfiction #hongjoong #seonghwa #yunho #yeosang #san #mingi #wooyoung #jongho #w; ot8 #w; fanfiction #w; pirate king #ateez pirate king

136 notes · View notes

commonwealthoccurences · 3 years

Text

Sunlight (Your Love Is Sunlight)

Word Count: 1,339 Prompt: Cyberpunk AU Day: 27/28 Note: Tomorrow’s the last day of Fo4f! It’s honestly bizarre to think about The streets of Diamond City were lit up in ever-changing colors, neons in every shade that flashed and strobed in the back of Sole’s eyelids even when they closed their eyes. The buildings towered above them, looming and slightly crooked if one looked too long, packed dangerously close together and leaving no room for breath. The entire city was made of stacks, buildings stacked higher than the sky itself, people stacked on each other to the point of claustrophobia. Despite the bitter tasting smog and the acrid smoke that seemed to stain everything, the city held a special place in Sole’s heart, like a parasite.

They were grateful for the mask that covered their face when yet another car sped past, emitting black fumes out of their exhaust pipe, leaving them squinting their watery eyes. Their boots hit the pavement with loud thumps, solid and unshakable, their back straight in confidence, head high. Diamond City would kill you if you didn’t show it you would fight back. At least the lights were pretty.

Sole shook out their arms, stiff from having stuffed their hands in their pockets for most of the walk, and brushed fallen ash off their leather jacket. God knows where that came from, but nothing surprised them anymore. The loose gravel underfoot turned their feet at awkward angles as they kept up their brisk pace. They were on a mission, knife in their boot and gun pressed against their ribcage, and nothing was going to slow them down.

The main street was as busy as ever, never slowing down even in the dead of night when everyone was supposed to be asleep, but it was the alleys they were after. After another stretch of walking they chanced their sprint across the busy road, sidewalks rare and far between in Diamond City, sending a far-too-common middle finger to the drivers that began honking at them as they got across.

Uneven sidewalks and patches of wilting plants paved their way to the back alleys of Diamond City, winding labyrinths, practically their own street system at this point. They were far dimmer than the main roads, lacking the persistent and irritating neon lighting, but just as busy if one knew where to look. They let their shoulder brush against the rough brick walls, sticking themself firmly in the deepest parts of the shadows, not bothering to look down to see what they were kicking as they walked; it was best not to ask questions you didn’t want answered in the city.

The path was lit dimly by overhead lighting that flickered and blinked as the wind changed, some hole in the wall shops putting out their own shoddy lighting in their storefronts. Truly, they did their best, but it was hard to fight against the darkest parts of the alleys. The area was dotted with small tattoo shops and eateries, metaphysical shops and clinics that probably weren’t legal, but no one was going to make it to the big city doctors regardless; what were they going to do, when the only other option was no medical attention at all? Sole had to look away with the way their chest burned in fury.

In the distance, pressing out against the dark, was a neon sign. A heart with an arrow through it, Valentine’s Detective Agency in loopy letters that shot out at the end of the alley. Their pace quickened slightly. It was a familiar path, one they’d walked so many times before, but seeing that light at the end of the tunnel never failed to reassure them. They were ready to get out of the damp, dark corners of the city.

With a more cheerful hop up the steps to the agency, Sole tugged their hand out of their pocket and knocked firmly, pausing for a moment before they headed inside. They were greeted with the smell of incense; something smokey and warm, probably Ellie’s doing. The lighting overhead held a warm, orangey hue, any windows covered firmly with plain red curtains. Bullet, the agency’s three-legged, half blind cat, made his way to greet them quite lazily, winding between their legs as they struggled to step around him. They threw a glance back towards the doorway as they made their way in and saw Nick’s jacket hung up on the coat rack; good, he was here.

Quickly, they leaned over and ran a hand over Bullet’s back, earning a smug purr before he took off again, probably to go curl back up on the sofa. Sole shed their jacket as they walked, their boots hitting the creaking wooden floors with firm thuds, headed straight to the end of the hall where Nick’s office was. They hesitated to knock. It was never easy to bother Nick when he was in the middle of work; no matter how many times he reassured them, they felt bad about it. A voice behind them startled them out of their conflict. “Go ahead and go in, Sole.”

The voice was familiar, and when Sole turned they were greeted with the sight of Ellie, Bullet wrapped up in her arms, a bright smile on her face. “He’s been fretting to see you ever since you left. You don’t have to worry about bugging him. In fact, take any longer and I think he may short-circuit.” She let out a quiet laugh, eyes bright.

This brought a smile to Sole’s face, not quite shy but certainly fond of the detective behind the door closed in front of them. They nodded to themself for a moment. “Thanks, Ellie.” They responded.

“No problem. And welcome back, Sole.”

With that, Sole knocked firmly against the heavy wooden door that hid away the famous detective, allowing a moment for it to get his attention before they pushed the door open and ventured inside. It was slightly darker, the lamp on his desk doing its best but not quite lighting up the room. Under it, papers were scattered across the surface, covered in sprawling handwriting that belonged to the man himself. And finally, the detective of the hour sat behind the desk, chin propped up by his hand, eyebrows raised as he looked up expectantly at the door, yellow eyes glowing amidst the dark.

Once it registered who was in front of him, Nick pushed back his chair with no hesitation and rounded his desk in a few strides to sweep them up in a warm hug. His arms sat just under their ribcage as he lifted them, drawing a laugh out of the freelancer, and their arms came up to wrap around his shoulders. The warmth in his smile was finally pulling some of the damp pollution out of Sole’s chest and lungs. After a moment of resisting the urge to crush them in his arms, he set them back on their feet and instead cupped their face in his hands, brushing his hand over a new cut on their face before he leaned in and pressed a crushing kiss to their lips; I missed you, it screamed, I hate when you leave.

It was a bitch, the fact that they were both so involved in jobs that sent them away for undefined periods of time, often separately. The cases where Sole could join and travel with Nick were the dream; sure, it was still work, but they were together and that was nothing to complain about. Nick was truly at his most withdrawn when Sole was away and he was left to focus on his towering stacks of files.

He pulled away enough to brush his nose against theirs, a contented smile having replaced the firm set grimace that had taken over his focused features just moments ago. They relished in the moment before stepping forward and resting their head against his shoulder, arms still locked around his shoulders. He caught their weight easily as they leaned against him, exhausted from their venture and the travel it took to get back. But God, were they glad to be home.

#Fallout 4 #Fo4 #Fo4f #Fallout 4 February #Nick Valentine #Detective Valentine #Oneshot #Imagine #Fanfiction #Fanfic #FF #Cyberpunk AU

22 notes · View notes

sp00kworm · 4 years

Text

Butterfly

Pairing: Jesse Cromeans / Chromeskull x Female Reader

Warnings: Slasher horror and gore

A/N: This fic is blocked from the tags but please enjoy! Reblogs are always appreciated. Gif is by me.

---

His home was lonely. Jesse looked at the clock, his eyes burning with the need to sleep, but his mind racing. It was late. Approaching eleven o’clock. He’d had to work today. His company didn’t run itself, and there was a lot of accounting and management to do outside of his little hobby. Jesse looked away from the clock and stretched his jaw, the bone clicking from where he was cracked around the face with the bat. The bone had healed rather easily, but it hurt from time to time. His face, that was mauled. He wasn’t the stud he used to be. Handsome, a straight jaw and high cheekbones. Cynically, he snorted at the picture on the mantle he had of him and his late wife. Mrs Cromeans clutched at his arm at some high-class party, her red lips spread in a smile to match Jesse’s smirk. The second was him kissing at her cheek as she pushed him away. Sentimental. He was feeling sentimental. He didn’t hate his wife. She was convenient. A life outside of his hobby. Pretty. He didn’t even know she was pregnant. The police informant he had revealed the death report tentatively to him. The unborn child inside her wasn’t old enough to be saved. An accident he never expected to occur. He’d been gone nearly 4 months, and she was pregnant. He didn’t remember a message, but then he tended to let Spann handle such things. He probably ignored it. Jesse stood from his black leather couch and walked to the mantle.

He took the picture in his hand. His face was partially cut off, the camera focused on his wife and her smile. Jesse looked at it before he leaned over and threw it on the fire. The glass shattered with the force of hitting the logs and the frame quickly burst into flames, black paint peeling off the wood as it crackled and snapped. The photos disappeared into curling pieces of charcoal and he watched the frame burn with a certain amount of upset. Sentiment, he reminded himself, as he pushed himself away from the mantlepiece and touched the tattoo on his chest. The shaded skull stared back at him with hollow eyes. It was a reminder of the urges he had. With a sigh, he touched at his arms and traced the patterns of screaming, swirling ghouls all the way down to his wrist before daring to stand up a little bit straighter. He reached for the laptop of his coffee table and opened a chat window with Spann. It took a moment for the secure connection to open properly.

Spann’s face appeared in the bottom corner, her tired eyes looking at him through the camera. She was still sat in the office, but she gave him a smile, “What can I do for you, Sir?” She asked as she shuffled the paperwork away.

Jesse made sure his face was out of frame, ‘Make sure there is a clean-up crew on standby.’

Spann peered at the text, “Of course, Sir. Where are you heading out to?” She asked curiously as her fingers whipped across the keyboard lightning fast, “You’ve been in Hollywood for a while now, have you finally taken a fancy to someone? You’ve not been as active as you once were.” She smiled, sickly sweet and twisted, just like she always did.

‘Just have the crew ready. I will text if I find something.’

“Of course. Have fun, Sir.” Spann nodded and he closed the chat window before disconnecting from all the rerouting services and opening the internet to have a look for a bar that suited his fancy. Something exclusive so he didn’t have to sit and be gawked at by people that could well lose their eyes. His good eye roved the names of bars before he spotted a club. He recognised the name. A mob boss run thing, he was sure, but it would mean he didn’t get stared at with a knife on his hip underneath his jacket. Perfect. Jesse snapped his laptop closed and headed upstairs for a shower and to get appropriately dressed up.

The hot water eased his sore back, but it hurt on the sensitive skin of his face. He covered his face with a hand to his forehead as he washed the smell and aches from himself. The soap was sensitive, and he carefully washed his face, making sure to get around his eyes, to avoid any form of gunky infections. Those had been hell when he was laid in the hospital bed recovering. Still, a great deal of more work on his face this past year had made him far more recognisable, but it wasn’t the same. He was still scarred and twisted, his nose looking rather out of place. He ran a finger over the rougher skin, where the scaring was worst, tracing back over his forehead from his eyebrow. They had managed to graft new muscle and replace areas that were damaged. He felt more human now, but nothing would ever replace how he used to appear. Still, Jesse had paid good money for his better face, and he would be damned if he didn’t use it a little. He turned off the shower and dripped in the wet room for a moment before he wrapped a towel around his waist and pulled his razor out to sheer the hair from his head. It was therapeutic. Jesse leaned over the water to catch the hair on the back of his head before he held his jaw and angled the mirror to check his face. Nothing grew anymore, but that didn’t stop him checking.

He turned the mirror to his face and stroked the newly constructed nose. It had been four months of healing this time around. Plastic surgery galore. He’d had mountains of work since his run in with Princess’ little friend. He almost resembled a person. Still, he was scarred, and his eyebrows no longer grew hair along with his jaw. He was still blind in one eye, the brown eye cloudy. Jesse plucked his eyepatch from the shelf and replaced it before brushing his perfect teeth. He had paid too much money for most of himself to neglect it. He towelled himself off and walked from the bathroom to his room, stark naked, stretching his back before he plucked out his designer black shirt, trousers, and jacket. Once he was dressed, he pulled on his oxfords and pulled his case from underneath the floorboards. Jesse undid the latches and peered inside. The chrome skull stared back at him, along with the polished knives he used to remove pieces of his victims. The box of gloves sat nestled in the top corner but he didn’t put any on for the time being, letting his tattooed hands breathe. He pushed his fists together and looked at the two words. The words ‘FEAR’ and ‘PAIN’ looked back at him. With a final adjustment of his cufflinks, he took his wallet from the nightstand and left his house, activating the alarm and locking the door before he opened his Chrysler 300 and slid into the roomy interior. The engine roared to life before he pulled away from the drive. Jesse rolled down the tinted window before he pushed his middle finger out of it, flagging the neighbours who glared at him from their windows.

The bar was half of a club with the back for exclusive clients, which ranged from those involved in mob work, to celebrities. Jesse tugged at the breast of his jacket as he let the eager doorman take his car around the back. He stopped him with a finger in the air and he unlocked his phone and typed into the speech app.

‘Open the trunk or my glovebox and I’ll have your fingers, bellboy.’

“Yes, Sir.” He swallowed as he climbed into the Chrysler, pulling it away smoothly into the back of the club. Jesse looked around, his silver mask shining in the gaudy lighting. The mob knew him. He was the one who moved the weapons through his shelter companies. He took care of some of their business, butchering people like pigs for them when they took his fancy, and in, exchange, they let him have his pick of their girls for his games. He stepped through the door and a bouncer waved at him from the curtain separating the areas. The bar went around both sides, but no one could see through the curtains. Jesse walked through the bar, passing a group of women in lingerie as the bouncer let him through the other side.

“Good to see you again.” He grunted, looking up at the man as he drew out his phone.

‘Did you miss me?’ Jesse snarked through the automatic voice.

“You’re hardly any trouble.” He tipped his head towards a booth, “Make yourself at home.”

Jesse walked past him and headed for his table, pulling the curtains back before he placed his briefcase down and slid inside, sighing with the low lighting. He relaxed back against the cushions and reached for the mask over his face. With a hum, he pushed his thumbs into the mild adhesive and plucked the piece of chrome free with a twist underneath his chin in order to apply a new layer.

It was quiet at this side of the bar, the curtains blocking out a lot of the noise and the people that he didn’t want to look at. Exclusive. Jesse ran his fingers over the leather of the couch and hummed at the quality before he tucked his case beside him. The knife strapped beneath his jacket wasn’t going to cause any problems here. Jesse pulled the case around and listened as the curtains rustled beside him. He was used to this. The silver skull turned to face the red fabric and Jesse lounged back on his seat as it parted to reveal the curious face of the bartender. He smiled behind his mask at the professional wear, a shirt and bowtie on. His eyes roved lower behind the black material over his eyes, looking at the short skirt attached. Perfect. He greedily took in the sight, laid back against the cushioning, and slid his phone from his pocket.

You nervously parted the curtains of the exclusive booth and poked your head inside. Great, you thought as you slid the notebook from your pocket, holding your pen in your hand as you tried not to stare at the silver mask leering ominously back at you. His head dipped to look at your legs, admiring the view.

“What can I get you, Sir.” You asked, pen poised to write on the paper, “Any food or are you just drinking?”

The man in the mask didn’t respond, but his fingers whizzed across the keyboard of the phone, typing out something across the screen. He turned the screen to show you the words, ‘Drink. A bottle of bourbon. The one at six hundred.’

“Okay. Do you want a glass and ice?” You asked carefully, watching as he tilted his masked face.

His fingers clicked rapidly across the keyboard again, ‘Two ice cubes. Crystal tumbler.’

You had his sort before, “Of course, Sir.” You ducked back out and replaced the curtains before you headed back towards the bar to grab the expensive, six-hundred-dollar bottle of bourbon whiskey.

Jesse watched you through a small parting in the curtain, eyes following your backside as you returned to your colleague at the bar. He made sure to drop the curtain back into place as you turned from the bar and headed back towards him.

“Your drink, and your glass.” You placed the bottle and the tumbler down in front of the chrome-faced man and watched his tattooed fingers twitch against the leather as he leaned over to inspect what you had brought him.

Lazily, he took hold of the bottle neck, and peered at the label before he nodded and typed rapidly on the phone again, ‘Thanks. Run along, Piggy.’

You nodded and left his booth alone, catching a glimpse of tattooed hands pouring a drink as the red curtain closed behind you.

“Rude asshole.” You muttered under your breath as you headed back towards the bar, where you were needed on the other side, with the normal clientele of the bar. They were perhaps worse than the questionable celebrities and mobsters of the exclusive side, but you could cope with serving the sex workers and incredibly drunk men.

Joe gave you a look of concern as you came back through the curtain. He was an old man and had worked at the bar since he was young. He knew the sorts that tended to frequent the establishment. He leaned over towards you as you threw some glasses in the box for cleaning.

“Don’t fuck with that one.” He whispered, “The Boss doesn’t like him here, but he puts up with it. Rumour is he’s a bit of a knife for hire. Tends to get those jobs that required someone gutting for a video.” Joe scowled and rubbed at his moustache, “Stay far away and keep him happy with drinks.”

“Thanks, Joe.” You uttered before you served a beer, “What’s with the mask?”

Joe shook his head, “Best not to ask.” He then left you alone as you pulled pints of beer for a group. It wasn’t long before you swapped again into the back, smiling as you peered at the booths. You frowned as the curtain to the stranger’s flickered and he waved his hand before he curled his finger towards himself and pushed the phone through.

“Come here.” The automated voice called ominously, and you took a deep breath before you opened the bar door and headed towards the booth again, your notepad in hand. You parted the curtain and smiled at the mysterious man.

What you saw shocked you a little. He’d taken the mask off, revealing his scarred face to you. You tried not to stare, you really did. Awkwardly, you maintained the smile as he stared up at you, brown eyes dark as though he was daring you to say a word. One was covered with an eyepatch.

The phone clicked away before the screen was presented, ‘Entertain me.’ The voice was absent this time.

You read the words and frowned, “I can offer you a food menu or a different drink, Sir.” You replied quietly, dreading the next words that were going to come out of his mouth, “Unfortunately we don’t have any live music…and other options are not in my job description.”

Tattooed fingers curled against the leather before he grinned, exposing, bright, white teeth in a vicious smile. His chest jumped before he gave out a breathy, long chuckle. He curled his finger again for you to properly step into the booth.

He typed on the phone again before holding it up for you to see, ‘I don’t want you to suck my cock. Sit. Talk.’

Suddenly, you felt a little bit stupid, “Talk? What about?” You were still suspicious of the man.

‘Your boss. He owes me something. I want to know more.’ He turned the phone back to himself and typed again, ‘Ever mention ChromeSkull?’

Suddenly, you realised who he was. The personalised plates out the back of the bar, and the chromed mask in his lap. This was a dangerous man. Still, he was very capable of ending you now, with no one there to see.

“He doesn’t talk about business in the bar.” You swallowed nervously, “He only said he hoped he never saw your face in here again.” Your gut dropped as you realised either way, you might die.

‘Thanks, sweet thing.’ He typed and showed you before continuing, ‘Call me Jesse.’ You watched his face smile again and suddenly you realised that once he was very handsome. It looked like acid or chemical burn scarring. The mob liked to disfigure people as pay back sometimes, but you had an inkling his weren’t inflicted by the mafia.

‘What’s your name?’ He pushed the screen before your eyes as his fingers danced over the leather.

You cleared your throat and told him, “So are you here for payback?”

‘Something like that.’ He replied on screen, ‘Better company this time.’

Flattering but you still wanted out of the conversation. There wasn’t an opportunity to, however, because as you stood up to straighten yourself out, your boss walked into the booth.

Judgemental eyes roved you up and down, spotting you playing with your skirt. Jesse was quick to turn and replaced his mask, before your boss could see, the medical adhesive painted along the seams and the area of his nose. He turned back to look at Antony, the owner, with the haunting black eyes of the chrome skull mask peering through him.

“Making yourself at home with my staff?” Antony shot as he pulled a cigarette from between his lips, his face twisted with a glare, “Pretty sure you’re not welcome here anymore.” He dragged a hand through his slicked back, brown hair and snarled viciously before he returned the cigarette to his lips for another nervous drag.

Jesse’s mask tilted before he pointed a finger through the curtains and let the automated voice speak for him, “Justin had no issue letting me in, Antony.” He continued, “Plus, you owe me.”

“If this is about that fucking weapons crate again. I swear to God I didn’t know it was rigged to blow.” He dragged on his cigarette again.

“You lost me a factory, Antony.” The automatic voice droned hauntingly, “And I still haven’t had the compensation.”

“You’ll get your money, shit face.” Antony’s hand twitched for his jacket.

You panicked as Antony took a seat across from Jesse, his fingers steepled under his chin. It was tense, and you began to panic as Jesse loomed over in the man’s personal space. He was a giant, solid wall of power, and you instinctively took a step back.

Antony clicked at you, “Drinks. Pour them. One for our guest here too.” You nodded and dashed for another glass for Antony before shakily taking the bottle in your hand and pouring both of them shots.

Jesse ignored the drink as he took his silver briefcase and slammed it on top of the table. The wood shuddered under the force of the blow and you jumped as he snapped open the clips.

“Put your fucking knives away, Cromeans.” Antony scoffed.

Jesse slid his first, sharp hunting knife free from his hip and you swallowed as he took a camera from the case. The device had a stand that clipped to his shoulder and he snapped the little tripod on before tapping the top. A red light blinked on. Recording.

“Oh, so you’ve come for something to play with?” Antony laughed, “There’s a toy stood right next to you. Be my fucking guest!” He exclaimed.

You gave a squeak as Jesse’s large hands grappled you by the waist, dragging you into his lap, your legs pinned between his own as he breathed down your neck. He trapped you as he reached for the box of black nitriles in his case. Methodically, he peeled one free at a time and tugged them over the black tattoos covering his hands. The black nitrile traced the edge of one knife before he span it once, twice, and then placed the edge of the blade against your neck. Your breath caught in your throat at the cold press of metal against your soft skin. His other hand trailed over the skin, his hot breath tickling your ear before he swiped the knife up and dragged the sharp side through your hair. You listened to him inhale before, tauntingly, he made a kissing noise next to your ear. The blade was replaced against your throat as he typed on the phone once more.

“I catch my own fish.” The voice droned before Jesse shook the phone teasingly in front of you, showing you the text he had typed out, ‘Though I don’t think I want to play with you, piggy. You’re too much of a deer.’

Antony scowled, “What the fuck does that mean…” He howled in agony as Jesse flicked the blade around again and slammed it through his hand. The fingers twitched before he drew his other knife and sliced the appendages free, pinning you in place with his legs as he watched blood spurt over the wood.

Shock. You felt your heart burn as you wiggled backwards, closer to the killer’s chest before he peeled you free from his lap and dropped you back into the booth. Gruffly, Jesse slammed his bloodied hand over Antony’s mouth.

‘This piggy should have stayed home.’ His phone droned, again and again as the giant stood up, touching the tip of the hunting knife as he admired the shine of blood over the cold steel. With another flourish, he turned the saw half downwards and wrestled Antony over the wood, pinning him with a slam of his head before he dragged the saw downwards and watched skin and muscle part. He paused when Antony passed out and left the knife embedded in the man’s wrist as he looked back at you.

‘Look away.’ He typed with his clean hand. You did as you were asked, fear making you want to cry. He sawed the hand free and looked at the hand left, pinned to the table before he pealed his gloves free and brushed the bottom of your chin.

“Look alive, sunshine.” The voice chittered, “Get moving.” It continued.

You opened your eyes and Jesse was quick to turn you away from the mess over the table.

“Up. Walk. Back exit.” The phone said. With a shuddering sigh, you got up. Jesse’s mask tilted before he offered his arm. You hooked your arm through his and almost cried as he shut the curtains and blocked you from the view of the other bar staff with his towering figure. His video was still recording.

“Why did you…” You were cut off by a sharp grip.

Jesse didn’t speak until you were both outside, his keys in one hand, snatched from the storage and his phone held up to you in the other, “I taught them a lesson. They don’t fuck with me and get away with it.” He offered before he dragged you over to his car. You looked at the custom plates and the expensive brand. He laid his briefcase on the bonnet and sighed as he peeled free the chrome covered mask. Beneath was the same as before, heavily operated on with taught skin. A few scars were deep and heavy. His eye that was previously covered with an eyepatch was open, revealing itself as almost blind, the brown iris milky and covered. Still, he wasn’t a monster, just disfigured and evidently, through all the surgery, unhappy about what had occurred.

“Staring is rude.” The phone whirred, “Should be staring elsewhere, sugar tits.”

You felt yourself go red, “You just killed a man! You don’t have any right to flirt with me after you just made me an accessory to murder!” You flew off the handle, “And now you’re taking me out back to end me too!”

Jesse grinned, white teeth clenched together dangerously as his knife curled and span idly, looking you up and down. He held up the phone nonchalantly, “No I’m not. I’m taking you home.”

“You…You’re joking.” You took a step backwards only for him to grab you once again, breathing in the smell of your hair as his knife traced down your chest. With a flick of his wrist he popped a button off your shirt.

His phone appeared in front of you again, ‘Home address.’

You swallowed and repeated your address for him quietly. He hummed behind you, the knife disappearing before he turned you to face him. His face dipped down to meet yours as he laid a single kiss over your lips.

‘Let’s go for a ride, baby.’

#jesse cromeans x reader #chromeskull x reader #chromeskull #jesse cromeans #laid to rest #laid to rest 2 #laid to rest (2009)#chromeskull: laid to rest 2 #my writing #female reader #reader insert #jesse cromeans x female reader #chromeskull x female reader

132 notes · View notes