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lalacliffthorne · 1 year

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modern!batboys as (your) roommates - headcanons.

because let's be honest, we have all thought about that at some point.🦇

(this is the introduction of my new drabble universe!!! I can´t tell you how fucking excited I am.)

it would be wrong to say that your life was boring before you met the three idiots you now call your roommates

sure, it wasn't as exciting

but you had your tiny little apartment, went out with friends once in a while and mostly enjoyed having your own space and routines

but then

shit hits the fan

and by shit I mean your landlord

because of a loophole in the rental agreement, he's able to kick you out of your apartment with only a months notice

in other words

you're fucked

or, as your best friend Feyre, who you met the first week of orientation and became inseperable with, says -

"That bastard." Feyre's eyes are stormy.

"What the hell am I gonna to do?" You bury your face in your hands, your voice muffled when you mumble: "How am I supposed to find a new apartment in a few weeks? For this one, I looked over a year, and it's a glorified shoebox!" Your voice rises as you feel a wave of dread crash over you and your heart rising into your throat.

"Hey, it's okay. If worst comes to worst, you can crash at my place,", Feyre raises her brows, "even though we'd have to share my bed, but - I won't just let you sleep on a park bench if that's what you're worried about. Unless you find another glorified shoebox that's technically out of your budget, it's you and me, crashing on my bed, climbing over your stuff to get to the bathroom, finding out what married life would feel like."

even though you love her to death, that really does not sound like an option you want to explore

so you try everything

scouring every paper for apartment advertisments, posting on your uni's socials, going to all the viewings you can find -

nothing

but just when you're ready to just give up

a miracle happens

the miracle is 5'5, has impeccable style and hair, a love for deep red lipstick and drops by for lunch

Mor has been your friend for two years now, since you almost spilled your coffee over her laptop at the library

(she's still not letting you live that down)

she also likes to get you out of your comfort zone

"Are you serious?" Mor stares at you wide-eyed.

"Yep." You tiredly stir your coffee. "I've been turned away for twenty apartments in the past few days alone. I'm aready seeing myself bunking with Feyre. She offered, but her bed barely fits into her apartment as it is."

Mor breathes a giggle before hastily clearing her throat. "Sorry."

You grin weakly before rubbing your face. "I don't know what I'm gonna do. I know it could be even worse, but -"

"It already feels pretty shitty,", Mor ends. You sigh in confirmation and are about to change the topic, because you haven't seen the blonde in weeks and feel bad about ruining your lunch. But before you can open your mouth, Mor suddenly squints in thought. Then she looks at you.

"How much do you value your privacy?

Given the fact you'll be basically homeless on the street in about a week if you don't find a new place - not much.

Mor begins to grin, and there's a bright twinkle in her eyes.

"Well, then I might just have the solution."

the next day, Mor drags you downtown

she takes you to an old but sophisticated building you wouldn't even dream about living in

a single month's rent there would probably empty your whole bank account

but Mor just winks and pulls you up the stairs

on the third floor, a guy leans in an open door

and that

is how you meet Rhys.

Mor's cousin is annoyingly beautiful

tall, with perfectly tousled dark hair, a perfect grin that causes his cheeks to crease and, from the looks of it, the also perfect physique

he's also annoyingly charming

if you'd met him somewhere without Mor, you would have probably gaped for a moment before catching onto the mischievous twinkle in his nearly violet eyes and promptly avoided him, because someone that pretty had to have some fault

as it turns out, Rhys' fault is offering practical strangers to live with him without even batting an eye

"What?"

You blink at Mor from where you just sank onto one of the two very comfortable couches, because she can't possibly -

"Okay, before you freak out, just listen, okay?" Mor is grinning giddily. "The guys have a free room they don't really use anyway and you really need a new place - so you could just move in here!" She beams. "The place is definitely big enough, and you'd fit in perfectly, I promise! They're just as chaotic as you, but also very responsible -"

"Mostly." Rhys' eyes are twinkling. He's looking completely and slightly concerningly unbothered by the prospect of you, a factual stranger, moving in with him and his friends.

"- they don't have any bad habits, they're fairly neat -"

"Mostly."

Mor widens her eyes at you. "It's perfect!"

You blink at her.

"I've already talked to my roommates." Rhys' deep voice is almost soothing - mostly because he sounds a lot calmer than Mor, steady and reassuring.

"If you want, this can be temporary, until you find a place just for yourself, but this way you don't have to stress about needing to find a place in a certain time, plus,", he cracks a grin, "I don't like the idea of you having to crash on somebody's couch in the foreseeable future, that's just bullshit if we got a free room here no one uses anway. And if this works,", one corner of his lips quirks even more until his grin is a lot closer to the wicked twinkle in his eyes, "none of us would mind another roommate."

"You don't have to decide right now." Mor smiles brightly. "But I think it would be great, and you'd make a bargain with the rent, because Rhys loves to play sugar daddy -", her cousin flips her off, "and I think this would be a really good idea." She grins, suddenly a little sheepish.

if you weren't so desperate, you would whip out about a dozen arguments about why this probably isn't a good idea

like the fact that rooming with three dudes sounds like a lot of testosteron, or that you don't even know them, and that they don't even know you -

but from the way Rhys lounges in his chair, smirking easily while Mor beams at you, he doesn't seem to see too much of a problem in that

also you are very, very desperate

but there's still that one thing -

"About those roommates -"

When you hear the door, you raise your head, your heart doing a slightly concerning flip in your chest.

It's a day later, and you just finished the tour of the apartment Rhys has given you. Even though it's huge and very grand with it's high ceilings decorated with stucco and the original hardwood floors, it feels warm and cozy. The room you'd be sleeping in is as big as your whole current apartment, light with two big window and a view of the trees on the street outside.

It kind of makes you wonder where the catch is.

Maybe it's about to walk through the door.

You hear a deep voice and heavy footsteps, then a dude appears in the door to the kitchen.

Your heart does a somersault, and you feel your lips part a bit. Because frankly, it's a miracle he makes it through the door without hitting his head.

The guy's huge. His shoulders and chest strain against his t-shirt; he looks like one of those dudes who basically have muscle in their DNA, all corded muscle under ridiculously wide shoulders and a solid middle, muscular long legs under black jeans -

And you're staring.

Big time.

The dude's looking over his shoulder, which means he thankfully doesn't notice you oggling him. The half of his hair that isn't pulled back in a bun brushes against his neck when he grins, his cheeks creasing. He's really good looking, in a rugged kinda way, with his roughly curved jaw and the scar on the side of his face, and when he looks back ahead, his eyes twinkle warmly.

Then, behind him, another guy appears in the doorway, and your breath catches.

Because if Rhys is annoyingly beautiful, the guy in the door is drop-dead gorgeous.

Just like the other two, he's tall and all lean muscle. His shoulders shift under his black t-shirt as he leans against the doorframe, his hands sliding into the pockets of his black jeans. His eyes look like amber in sunlight, his dark hair is tousled, a strand curving over his forehead. His face is all angles and soft lips, with dark brows that look like he likes to crunch them in a scowl, but right now, he looks fairly relaxed, though his gaze is watchful.

And on yours.

Feeling warmth wash into your cheeks, you hastily look away while crap, crap, crap echoes through your head, because of course he caught you staring.

On to a really great start here.

Your gaze grazes his hands and the bit of uneven skin that merges into veiny, tan forearms before your eyes trail over the tattoos scattered over them, some peaking out from his sleeves.

There's the sound of someone clearing their throat, and you feel the heat in your cheeks deepen when your eyes dart up and meet Rhys', a twinkle in his iris when he sends you a lazy grin.

"Boys, this is Y/N." He raises a brow. "Our new roommate."

and that is how you meet Cassian and Azriel

it almost makes you reconsider

because you're really not sure you're gonna survive rooming with three guys that pretty

but after thinking it over for a couple of days, you realize that you really don't have a choice

and so a week later, Rhys and Cassian come over to your apartment to help you move the first half of your stuff

neither blink an eye at the fact it's about the size of a broom closet in comparison to their home

Rhys does however scowl when he sees the condition of the bathroom

you're ready to sink into the floor when you hastily explain pretty much all the apartments in the building look like that

(a lil dingy and moldy)

but when he turns, Rhys just glowers and grumbles under his breath about how he'd like to rip your landlord a new one

it's the first time you realize that under all the aloofness and swagger and cheeky grins, Rhys cares

it's proven again when you move into your new room a week later and there's a new mattress on the also new bed

you haven't bought either of them, but when you try to protest, Rhys just huffs about your back probably being fucked up because of your old one and about how he'll add it to your rent

he never does

you get used to rooming with three guys surprisingly quickly

sure, it is pretty much a total 180 -

going from living alone in a tiny apartment

to sharing a huge flat with three dudes who make the place vibrate with laughter and bicker like they have been married for thirty years

but even tho you never thought you'd be the type to actually enjoy having roommates

you find that with them - you don't really mind

of course it is nice to have the place to yourself sometimes

and after about two weeks, you're comfortable enough to blast your music and dance through the kitchen when you're alone

(yes, at some point, they catch you - it takes you about a minute to realize there are three guys standing in the doorway, watching you dance with a broom. you get a mild heart attack and Cassian and Rhys start cackling while Azriel smirks)

but even if usually there's always someone around -

you find that all three of them are very good at both respecting your boundaries and leaving you be when you need to curl up in your room

but also seem to know when you need someone to drag your ass out into the world

and something about knowing at least one of them will probably be there when you get home makes you feel very warm and fuzzy

and even tho you weren't completely sure about this situation in the beginning

you get roped into living with the three guys instead of just rooming with them pretty easily

it really starts with Cassian

probably gets used to you living there the quickest

after barely a week, he's treating you like you've lived with them since the beginning

like just sticking his head into your room and making you help him with dinner

it surprises you a little that they all have dinner together

from what you've heard from friends who have roommates, they usually all do their own thing most of the time

but it makes you realise that these guys are more family than just roommates

Cassian is surprisingly easy to talk to

he's quick with the quips and the banter

also very flirtatious

constantly makes you laugh, his deep, boisterous chuckles infectous

also super affectionate

you're convinced the man is actually just a huge teddybear

after just a few weeks, you're used to hugs that lift you off your feet

cheek kisses as greetings

and being casually lifted out of the way like you don't weigh anything

not that you're the only one who gets that treatment

no, there are hugs in greeting that make Rhys groan dramatically like his air supply is cut off

and pats on the shoulder and smacking forehead kisses that make Azriel crinkle his nose

Cassian quickly becomes the one you go to when you need advice

he always listens attentively

doesn't sugarcoat things

stays objective while never making you feel bad or less about anything

and it quickly becomes pretty clear he'd put everything aside if any of you ever need help

gives you rides in his beat up truck to uni

and always picks you up when studying at the library gets late bc he doesn't like the idea of you out alone after dark

with Cass, even mundane things like grocery shopping become fun

he's just casually funny and teases the shit out of you at every opportunity

has no understanding of the concept of personal space

and with most people, that would kinda put you off a little in the beginning

but Cassian just has something about him

something so inheritly good and warm and sunny

that he never once makes you feel uncomfortable

if anything, with him around, you feel a lot more at ease

and not just bc it's always nice to have a guy in your back that towers over you like a lighthouse

though the whole massive, tatted dude with the dark eyes thing kinda goes out of the window as soon as he grins at you

dimples and all

but still, don't be fooled

when the grin's gone and he's glaring, you know why people make way for him immediately

he works at a gym to earn some money at the side

once, he takes you with him just for fun

then that one time becomes another and before you know it, you tag along twice a week

and it would be wrong to say it's not doing something to you when he crouches in front of or behind you, his deep voice rumbling as he mumbles encouragements

"Alright, come on, sweetheart, gimme one more."

Trying not to make a very embarassing groaning sound, you crunch your face in concentration and slowly lower yourself into a squat, your muscles trembling slightly.

"There you go, that's it." You can feel Cassian in your back, spotting you, his deep voice rumbling through you, and it's just almost distracing enough for you to -

"No, no, come on, you can do it." Cassian's deep chuckle sets you at ease, and he lightly pats the side of your thigh. "You got this, c'mon."

With a soft groan, you push yourself up again, and you can hear the triumph and wide grin in Cassian's voice when he goes: "Yeeessss, good job, baby. C'mon, you can do one more."

Blowing out a heavy breath and glaring at nothing in particular, you ready yourself.

when one day, he makes you lose focus, you're gonna throw something at him

you're pretty sure he does it on purpose just to see how red you can get

but Cass is really good at pushing you without overdoing it, always teasing and encouraging

and if you manage to do something, in the gym or otherwise, he grins so widely you're almost sure he's more proud of you than you are yourself

Rhys is a flirt.

and after you get over the first initial blush that just won't leave you alone for the first few weeks

it actually becomes entertaining

now bantering back and forth is basically all you do

it gets so bad, Azriel constantly rolls his eyes at the two you

but just like you suspected, behind all the flirtiness and mischievous grins

Rhys cares

a lot

whenever you're upset, he looks like he's contemplating ripping apart whatever or whoever made you upset

and whenever someone has a go at Cass or Azriel, Rhys picks them apart with lethal precision and a wicked smile

if Cassian is most affectionate, Rhys is close second

he's slightly more casual about it

pinching your nose, flicking your ear softly, offering his cheek for a kiss in greeting

always down for amazing hugs tho

whenever you get on your period, Rhys turns full mother hen

it's actually quite entertaining to see a 6-foot-something dude grumble because you don't want to take painkillers

"I just don't like to take them until it's really necessary, okay?" You glower at Rhys, curling up on the couch and trying to suppress a wince.

Rhys incredulously narrows his eyes.

"You're bleeding from inner organs and look like you want to curl into the couch. I'd say it is pretty necessary."

behind all the snark and arrogance, Rhys cares

also seems to have a rather unhealthy tendency to put everyone else first

you catch on pretty easily that even though his father is absolutely loaded, Rhys doesn't particularly cares about his money

in fact

he doesn't hesitate to spend whatever money his father pumps into his bank accounts for a second

when you ask Mor about it, she just smiles lopsidedly.

"I think it's his kind of protest?" She squints into the sun shining onto the balcony of the flat, the big glass of iced tea in her hand glittering in the light. "You know, spending all that money, preferably on his friends? Mostly because I don't think his father really likes them."

You wince.

"He knows he can't win against his father." Mor crunches her brows in thought. "I think he came to terms with having to take over the business one day, and he cares about the people who have their jobs there, so he won't let them down. It's just hard sometimes, if your whole life is already planned out for you." She shrugs gently. "Doing this, living with Cassian and Azriel and now you, spending his fathers money on it and actually having a good time instead of just being bitter and stuck up - it's his way of not surrendering completely."

you have never met Rhys' father, but even tho he's powerful af

you really feel a strong desire to kick him in the balls

Rhys has a knack of knowing exactly when you need to talk and when you need to be distracted

it's not unusual that after a bad day, he just joins you on the couch, plopping down and pulling your feet onto his lap

it either leads to you venting and him listening

usually giving very appropriate responses of either huffs, scowls or downright glowering

or, if you don't want to talk

he either lets you use him as a human pillow, grumbling over your choice of movie while scratching your head

or he takes you out

to the cinema, a museum, the theater -

you're pretty sure you've grown a lot more cultured in a few months than the whole of your life before that

it never gets boring tho

the whole thing kinda annoys the crap out of you in the beginning bc he never lets you pay for anything

but you get better at finding ways to pay him back in other ways

like taking over making dinner on days when he's exhausted

coaxing rants out of him when his father gets to him

dragging him out on nightly walks through the city when he can't sleep

and after a while

you understand that it's just one of Rhys' love languages

and it is fun to spend his father's money ;)

especially when it means museum Saturdays with the two of you just sitting and staring at paintings

or going to the cinema and pigging out on popcorn and greasy stuff while whisper-hissing fun facts at each other

even takes you to stuff like wine tastings

Rhys is a foodie

likes super fancy pickles, trying food you can't even pronounce and splurging on dinner

and if he decides the two of you need to get out of the apartment

one way or another

it usually ends in a restaurant

always orders like half the menu

also cooks the best out of all of you

like I'm talking freaking perfection

whips up the fanciest, most delicious far-too-many-courses meal for holidays

and goes all in even if he just makes dinner

you often get lured into the kitchen by the delicious smells

usually ends up with you on the couch at the table while Rhys moves around the kitchen

talking about everything and nothing

(also not above slapping anyone's hand away if they try to sneak a taste)

Azriel is quiet

not shy; you catch onto that pretty quickly

he's too quick and easy on any dry remark in response to his friends' boisterous teasing for that

and his gaze too firm and piercing

rarely shies away when you catch his gaze

in the beginning

that intimidated the shit out of you

the way he appears without a sound, towering over you, all dark and quiet and brooding

it's like he perfected the art of going unnoticed

tho you're not quite sure how

bc how could anyone not notice him?

after a while tho

you realise that even tho Azriel is dark and glowering and brooding

there's something gentle about him

it surfaces in the smallest things

like how his lips curve the softest bit when you grin up at him

how light and careful his touch is

how he is always respectful, putting himself between you and the street, holding doors open without ever seeming to think twice about it

and how everything about him seems to darken when he witnesses anyone being treated poorly

but even if anger rages within him like a quickly rising tide, quiet and dangerous

you still always feel safe with him

maybe it's bc, even in those moments, you just know it will never be directed at you

and that even tho there's always that darkness within him, it's never something that feels unsettling or dangerous

and instead soft and welcoming

like something about him and that steady, dark gaze just calms you

maybe because he's so quiet, Azriel seems to see and hear everything

in record time, he begins to catch onto every little detail about you

mundane things

like how you like your favorite drink or what your favorite ice cream is

the only reason you know he notices is because he begins to hand you cups in the morning that are exactly right and the freezer starts to always hold a big container of your favorite ice cream

but also seems to know exactly what your tell is when you're nervous

uncomfortable

or tired

what makes you upset

happy

nervous

what causes you to giggle uncontrollably

and so on

it should probably unsettle you, how easily he sees through you

but it doesn't

sure, it's a bit weird at first

but you quickly realise it's strangely comforting - that someone pays enough attention to know even the smallest thing about you

Azriel is your favorite person to be around when you just need a break

it's like something about him is grounding, steady

like being around him makes your thoughts calm down

makes it easier for you to sort the chaos your mind sometimes becomes

you quickly realise that beneath all of the quiet watchfulness lies a wicked, dry sense of humor

his mumbled remarks make you snort laughter or beam widely up at him

always makes his lips curve

he reads a ton

when you first see his room, you almost gape

because the man has books

they fill the shelves

balance in towers on the floor

sit on the window sill and next to his bed

most of the books in the shelves in the living room are his as well

has a great dislike for movie adaptions

sits there with that scowl of his, glaring at you until it's over when you make him watch one

says it destroys the pictures in his head

(to be fair

you don't think he's entirely wrong about that)

always has a camera in reach

got a few, all older ones; no fancy digital ones, but all on film

just like he seems to catch onto everything

so does his camera

it's like the manifestation of his quiet perception of things

to fix things onto film

he captures everything

most of the time, you don't even notice

only sometimes you raise your head to find the camera in his hands, a slight curve to his lips

develops all pictures himself, in a dark room on campus students can book

spends hours in there, just working in silence

there's usually a lot of bugging involved before he shows the developed pictures to anyone

usually ends in all of you leaning over them eagerly, trying to figure out when he took them

Rhys standing in the kitchen, grinning over his shoulder like Cassian just made a bad joke

you and Feyre, laughing so hard you lean into each other

Mor, lying upside down on the couch while focusing on the cards in her hand while you're next to her, mid-motion, a focused expression on your face

Cassian napping on the couch, twisted in a very uncomfortable position to fit all six feet something of him onto the cushions

there seems to be an endless number, and they're all carefully stored away in his shelves

some, he refuses to show to anyone

it takes you so little time to feel at home in the huge flat, the prospect of looking for an apartment for yourself is off the table before you can actually start

and it doesn't take long until you're part of the routines like you'd been there since the beginning

Saturday and Sunday evenings are for movie nights

sometimes, Mor joins you

you sit with Azriel on the couch, sharing a big bowl of popcorn while staring at Rhys and Cassian argue about which Star Wars movie to start with

in the summer, you take trips to the lake for swimming and laying in the sun

have game nights

evenings sitting on the balcony, squinting into the setting sun

barbecues

and afternoons in the park, one joining in after the other

in winter, you go to the ice rink

bake together

and spend whole weekends on the couch, watching movies

you go to the gym with Cassian or accompany him on his runs

(well, he's running - you're on your bicycle, because there's no way you can keep up with that dude´s long legs)

or get dragged out onto hikes by Rhys

in the evenings, you usually all end up in the kitchen for dinner, banter thrown over the dinner table

Azriel and you mostly take care of the grocery shopping together

it usually entails you trying to reach something on a high shelf and Azriel huffing, moving to grab it without even having to stretch

sometimes Cassian joins in, and you both make it your mission to annoy Azriel until he cracks a grin

both Az and Rhys regularly give you rides on their motorcycles

while Cassian likes to stick to his old, beat up truck, Rhys has a car as well, but alternates between it and the motorcycle

more often than not, he uses it as opportunity to flirt

small cleaning duties in the apartment are rotated between the four of you

but big-once-a-month-deep-cleans are something you make a day of

blasting music, you divide the flat and get to work

(bathroom duty is rotated)

in the (very rare) case of an argument, it usually ends in one of you being mediator

which means after a cooling off period

the arguing parties are locked in the pantry until they've talked things out

works surprisingly well

sometimes, the boys bring someone home

it usually comes with a text

or the very oldschool sock on the door

tho you ban that one after Cassian forgets it

and you walk into the flat unsuspectingly only to be flashed

Cassian apologizes profoundly

after he's done laughing

there are also a few awkward encounters in the hall in the morning that leave you contemplating not running around in just big t-shirts

Feyre still gives you rides to campus and back

but sometimes, it's Azriel waiting in the parking lot instead, leaning against his motorcycle, two helmets next to him

it does not help with the way your heart seems to speed up whenever you find his amber eyes on you

but you're very adamant on pushing that away

it's probably not that serious anyway.

it would be wrong to say your life was boring before you met the three idiots you now call your roomates

but it sure as hell is a lot better now that you have

even if they do drive you a little nuts sometimes

@azrielshadows1nger @waytoomanyteenagefeels

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ivymarquis · 2 months

Text

Say You Won’t Let Go

No good deed goes unpunished

Pairing| John Price x F!Single Mom!Reader Rating| E Word Count| 2.1k Kinks/Content/Warnings| Zombie apocalypse (I like how I lied to both myself and y’all that there was ever gonna be a chance of it being another type of apocalypse), both John and Love are a little crazy which is to be expected re: zombie!au, more nausea, more pregnancy related discourse, zombie world building and the ramifications/implications of being pregnant in the apocalypse, the author is currently having A Thing about pepperoncinis, strong hints to the events that lead to Love being abandoned, etc etc etc

First/Previous Chapter Here | Next Chapter

Captain John Price of the SAS, it seems, has decided to keep you.

As a child your neighbors had an Australian Cattle Dog.

He reminds you of that dog. Keyed in on your every move, herding you about as he sees fit throughout the day.

Gets irritated just like that dog used to, if he finds you somewhere he thinks you shouldn’t be.

Being alone with a man you do not know goes against everything you were taught growing up. You, however, are not exactly spoiled for choice where company is concerned and are in no position to bite the hand willing to feed you. Especially when the hand in question hasn’t done anything untoward.

John provides security and stability, even if he fusses at you incessantly.

“Need to be eating more than that.”

Objectively you know he’s correct, but there’s fuck all to be done about it.

“I can’t. I’ll throw up.”

You learn the nausea card will stay his hand, not that you’re even overplaying it. The child you’re carrying likes to alternate between sitting on your bladder and your stomach between bouts of playing soccer with your ribcage. Not exactly making it easy on you to get (or keep down) the food you need to grow a liver or a pair of lungs, or whatever it is that you’re cooking in the final stretch of your pregnancy.

For the most part he leaves you be about the food if he sees you picking at something over the duration of the day.

You circle each other cautiously; circumstance and loneliness making you unwilling to avoid him, but also still having the good sense to be aware you’re dealing with a stranger for less than a full day.

He’s brash, obviously used to getting his way. You don’t know a ton about the military and can only assume that it comes with the territory. He’s used to barking orders and commanding a space. You’re not exactly in a position to buck against his hand- and it’s not like you really want to, anyway.

He gives you first pick of the food, your cravings deciding your meal for you.

Cravings in an apocalypse blow, by the way. It’s not like you can get the tandoori chicken from your favorite Indian place at 2 am just because the mood strikes.

“I would kill for a jar of pepperoncinis,” you mumble, mostly to yourself one night as you pick at your dinner. God you could fuck a jar of them up with how your mouth is watering just at the thought of them.

In fact, had the world not gone to hell in a handbasket you’d probably be doing something cruel and inhumane to a pile of them. Like dipping them into nutella. Wasn’t one of the joys of pregnancy appeasing your cravings with absolutely abominable food combinations?

You’re not exactly in fight or flight at this exact moment, but you are in survival mode. No luxury of door dashing random items.

“How much longer do you think you’ve got?” The captain asks one night over dinner.

“I’m not sure. I think any day now at this point.”

You feel like you’re all belly, something that’s compounded by his follow up question of “Only got the one in there?” which is honestly fair.

“Yes. The midwife said he just has an Olympic sized swimming pool to float around in.”

“Midwife would be handy to have given your state.”

The question is buried between the lines. Why are you here and not with her?

“She’s dead.”

That’s what started this whole mess, isn’t it? It’s not your fault she’s dead but her absence was the catalyst of your group abandoning you.

He pauses his own meal, looking at you momentarily. “Sorry to hear that.”

You don’t know what to say in reply.

It feels disingenuous to pretend her death impacted you more than it actually did. While you two had spent more time together as your pregnancy progressed, the conversations had stayed staunchly about the baby and changes to your body.

You weren’t friends. But she was kind and compassionate and seemed knowledgeable about what was happening to you.

It does make you nervous, though. Women have had babies unassisted for millenium, but women have also died in childbirth since the dawn of time. Certain cultures regarded a successful birth in the same vein as warriors returning home from battle.

Since he asked- in a roundabout way- about your group, you feel bold enough to ask about his.

“How’d you get separated from your group?”

“Got caught with our trousers down by a herd wandering through this area. We were overwhelmed and I ended up going through a window. Did a number on my leg, that seems to finally be healing.”

Herds is such a funny way to describe a roaming group of the undead.

Herds usually contain deer, or horses, or sheep. Something soft and doe eyed that you can pet. Something that has teeth, yes, but typically not interested in hurting you.

Packs would be the better descriptor in your opinion- but then no one had asked you, had they?

“Do you think they’re still in the area?”

“Not if they’ve got any fucking sense,” he grouses. “There’s a group of survivors up north we’ve been taking care of. Safe zone so to speak- about as safe as anything can be, at least. Came down for supplies as the area looked clear, but the truck broke down. Herd came through and mucked everything up.”

The prospect of another community- a safe zone- enraptures you.

You’re not stupid, even if a lapse of judgment and a too long dry spell breaking has landed you in your current predicament. You understand that you’re a bit of a ticking time bomb.

You live in a world where safety is no longer a guarantee. That too much noise, and too much attention drawn can be a death sentence.

So having a baby is a far riskier move these days than it was in the past. There’s so much that can go wrong. You can’t tell a baby to be quiet because a herd is passing through and if any of them hear, then you’ve signed everyone’s death warrant.

And that’s if you and your child don’t die in labor.

So you were understandably devastated but yielded to the group consensus to leave you behind.

But a safe zone?

You’ve been floating around in limbo since parting from your group. Understanding that your death is written on the walls, but unwilling to lay down and die without trying.

You feel something akin to hope fluttering in your belly- that maybe you and your child will survive. That there’s not a blade waiting to descend on you when your water breaks.

“Can you take me there? Are you trying to go back?”

John regards you for a moment, and you try to not squirm in apprehension.

“Would be a whole lot easier if I had a working vehicle,” he states. “Between my leg and your,” he pauses, spearing a bite of his food and making a vague gesture at you as he chews, “current condition, walking that far isn’t a good idea.”

Right. Because you’re a ticking time bomb who might pop in the next hour, next week, or next day and there’s absolutely no way to know until it happens. Hence why you were trolling through a neighborhood looking for somewhere safe to bed down until you have your baby.

Talk about caught with your pants down if your water breaks trying to traverse a substantial distance. But then traveling with a newborn puts another target on your back, doesn’t it? How long until you’re comfortable with how fussy your baby is and you become confident you can read his cues? That’s a hell of a dice to roll.

“If I can find a working radio I can call my team. Or something I can drive.”

“I’m good with tech,” you volunteer. “Even if the radio doesn’t work- maybe I can make it work.”

You’ve always been someone who takes pride in your work, but working in tech in a post-collapse society has rendered your knowledge useless when traveling with a nomadic group just trying to make things work day by day.

So you’ve been feeling like a bit of a lame duck lately, even though you know logically that’s not being particularly fair to your circumstances. You’ve been forced to learn more pragmatic skills (at least, for the zombie apocalypse) but having to learn them on the fly with threats constantly looming over you doesn’t exactly provide a safe place to fail while you get over a learning curve.

Obviously close combat isn’t ideal in your situation. Guns draw too much attention with the noise. Maybe you can find a bow and practice with it.

So you jump at the opportunity to show that you might be able to pull your own weight. That you’re more than a fragile time bomb waiting for the counter to hit zero.

“I’ll keep that in mind if I find a broken one, then,” he appeases, although you can’t get enough of a read on him to know if he’s just placating you.

It’s a bit after dinner and the sun setting that John decides it’s time to herd you up to bed. “Right then, time to get you back upstairs.”

It’s only been two days now but it doesn’t take a genius to realize he’s got a thing about you and the stairs.

Someone like him is likely used to preparing for the worst case scenario in every situation. Lord knows what sort of horrors he’s thought up of you losing your balance going up or down, but he’d chewed on you pretty good earlier in the day when you’d tried to go up them without him to get something out of your bag.

Lesson learned- no traversing the stairs unattended.

Given that you are perpetually exhausted at this point, you can’t see the value in arguing that you don’t need your sleep schedule dictated to you. Left to your own devices you likely would have begun nodding off on the couch.

Even with your group, while there’d be assigned watch times, there wasn’t an enforced bedtime. Everyone’s adults- you were expected to handle your shit and be ready to move when it’s time to go.

So you nod along and let him guide you up.

John is magnanimous about the resources in the house, letting you be uncontested for the bathroom upstairs. You don’t understand how plumbing works but you can’t even bring yourself to complain about the cold water as you clean yourself.

There is a chair in “your” room, and the first night you placed it under the doorknob so that should John get any suspicious ideas, at least you’d be awake for your grizzy demise.

The doorknob never so much as turned, and you’ve been at his mercy long enough you decide if he was going to do anything unhinged, he’d have done it by now.

You are snuggled into your bed- which might as well be a luxurious thing with a 600 thread count for all you can care right now, even though it’s most assuredly not- and hear the sound of John’s door closing across the hall, and are out like a light before you can even process the noise and assume that he’s down for the count for tonight just like you are.

Come morning- after you’re finished in the bathroom and are greeted in the hall by John waiting for you- you realize that John was not squirreled away in his own room last night. He leads you down the stairs- insists on being between you and the bottom of the stairwell.

There’s a jar of pepperoncini peppers, a container of prenatal vitamins, and a pack of preggie pops which claims to be a pregnancy safe anti nausea candy.

The logical side of your brain should be floored that this veritable stranger has paid more attention to your needs (and yes you’re going to go ahead and count the pepperoncinis down as a need) in a day and a half than certain exes had during the entire run of your relationships with them.

A thank you would be appropriate given the situation.

Unfortunately, however, your hormone addled “I've been fending for myself after being abandoned, and I'm still emotionally fried” brain has been the one calling the shots lately, so instead what comes out is “You left me last night.”

#john price x reader #price x you #pregnant!reader #john x love #zombie au #post apocalypse #lmfao I can just imagine john being all puffed up and oh so proud of himself and then Love is just like ‘you motherfucker D:’ and he’s all #my writing

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ilys00ga · 9 months

Text

life after his enlistment.

pairing: yoongi x reader

synopsis: how life/the relationship was like after he enlisted.

genre: fluff, established relationship, yoongi enlisted, they are trying their best, idk if I should call it angst or hurt/comfort, but there's some kind of ✨️melancholy✨️ in this (predictable much), I effing miss him sm more now :(.

warnings: t.w: if u are just like me, prepare to be missing yoongi sickeningly after this. gosh, it feels like a hole in a chest rn. idk what to do w myself. oh btw some ideas mentioned here are purely my own opinions, so it doesn't have to be "facts" or "all true." if u have different opinions or if u disagree with any it u can reach out to me about them, I would like that, but that's that, enjoy!!!!!!!!!

A/N: this was a request made by @kimvante2013 I hope it meets ur expectations! this was so fun to write, I liked this a lot. feel free to send more reqs or anything u want :)

PS. English is not my first language, so you know the drill.

ᵎᵎ 𖦹彡⋆｡˚・ ─ ・ ⋯ ・ ─ ⊹ ♡₊˚๑

the problem wasn't that you couldn't see him, no.

since his duty was different from that of an ordinary individual, you both were able to spend the nights in each other's arms.

when he comes back home after duty, sometimes he's met with an empty house where he'd wash up and start preparing something for you to enjoy munching on once you get back home at a later hour of the day. other times, he comes to a busy, warm house. you blasting your favorite drama on the TV while doing the laundry in the middle of the living room, or just chilling and waiting to welcome him with mellow hugs and kisses.

and when he's on duty, he can't always contact you, but he whispered kisses laced with promises into your lips before leaving on his first day, and he would never dare to break them. not that he wants to anyway.

sometimes you'd wake up to post-it notes sticked on random surfaces and items around the house, or good morning messages of love and kisses. sometimes he calls during lunch breaks to check up on you, reminding you to drink water and eat well because that's yoongi's most precious habit of showing that he always just cares.

"don't forget to layer your outfit today, I just saw that it's gonna be awfully cold."

"did you like the bouquet I sent? want more? cook me ___ tonight xx"

"hi, don't forget to drink a cup of water right this instance or you'll shrivel up and die."

"it snowed on my way here this morning, let's go out this weekend and have some fun :]"

when days are too hard to handle, weighing one of you—maybe even both of you at the same time, cause life is a bitch like that—down and burying you under the ground, you'd send long voice messages to the other. never expecting an immediate reply. just simply pressing record and spilling all the bottled negative energy that clogged your brains and chests.

so, the problem wasn't really that you couldn't see or talk to him..

the problem was that neither of you were used to any of that.

you weren't used to being away from each other for long hours throughout the day (even though he often went on tours and job events aboard), or not being able to talk and/or see him whenever you wanted to—atleast whenever your shift agreed to let you. you're stuck on this routine for months. you were so not used to that.

over the years, you and yoongi grew to become a pen and a paper: two different items that are meant to only function and be paired together. one can't be capable without the other.

yet you try to avail yourselves of the situation and take it all easy. slowly, like waking up and leaving a warm, comfy bed at 5 in the morning to gain some purpose somewhere out there.

so, while staying away from one another for several hours a day comes with heavy challenges and even melancholy at times, that doesn't mean it can't be fruitful for your relationship.

since for it to grow healthier, a couple, intentionally or not, sometimes needs to take some "time off" to preserve the connection and intimacy between them.

you always remind yoongi of how much you had missed him during the day, which is something that never failed to put a smile on his face and trigger a stream of butterflies in his stomach.

love and yearning are two inseparable powerful emotions that one can't defeat, and absence makes the heart grow fonder. that's the beauty of the challenge your relationship was subject to at this new stage.

"I am still me, you are still you. everything's gonna be alright." yoongi would say as he hugs your face into his chest.

he always reminds you that this new chapter the two of you have entered together, hand in hand and with shaking hearts, is one that he'd been dreading but looking forward to for a very long time.

a chapter that made him understand how much he needs your existence in his life. to be himself and to be the somebody you need and deserve.

and he makes sure to translate that into your skin as he traces it with his lips and fingertips when you finally fall into each other's embrace.

#yoongi #bts #yoongi scenarios #yoongi drabble #yoongi fluff #yoongi x reader #bts scenarios #agustd #yoongi angst #min yoongi #bts imagines #bts fic #bts army #bts yoongi #bts enlistment

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lilgarbitch · 21 days

Text

Running in Circles- Three

Pairing: Noah Sebastian x Reader

CW: Fainting, should I be adding swearing as a warning…or is it just obvious at this point?

Word Count: 9k

Author’s Note: Don’t hate me for being a cliche. Also, don’t hate me for involving my favorite artists;) It might not be everyone’s cup of tea, but many more faces will be popping up throughout this story. Some of you might hate it, but I know a lot of you will love it.

Part two

Y/N

I awoke to laughter outside my bunk, causing me to stir and finally open my eyes to see that the curtain to my bunk was open and three fat-headed boys were staring at me. I rub my eyes and yawn, then wipe my mouth when I realize I had been drooling.

“Fuck offfff,” I groan out to them in a tired voice, covering my eyes from the light shining in.

“Good morning, sleeping beauty. You were snoring like a goddamn horse, so I went to check on you and saw you drooling all over Noah’s hoodie.” Cam laughs out. I quickly open my eyes and look down at my sleeve, now with a giant wet spot on it. Goddamnit. There’s nowhere to even fucking wash this unless I can stop at a laundry mat or wash it in the sink somewhere.

“Are you gonna mention her mumbling his name every ten minutes,” Tony mumbled from behind Cam, causing me to groan, smack whatever body part was closest and reach for the curtain, pulling it back to cover me.

“FUCK OFF,” I yelled at them, trying not to laugh as I turned back over, burying my face into my pillow..that now had that amazing musk soaked into it from the hoodie…

“You better get ready soon, love. We get there in three hours,” Tommy calls in, causing another groan to escape my lips.

Wiping my face one more time, I hop out of the bunk and walk to my bags. Well, try to, as the hangover was absolutely kicking my ass and the room was still spinning. I use my barely open eyes to look over what my choices for today could be when they land on that lace tank top (that was actually more like a soft corset) that I almost wore yesterday and decide that even though I feel like the devil was about to come and pull me down any minute now, I should look cute again today. So I grab that, a pair of lower-rise black shorts, almost knee-high socks, and other essentials before walking to the bathroom and taking my much-needed shower.

I walk out of the bathroom, after probably an hour, needing to soak all the sticky sweat from my sleep off, finally feeling fresh and clean and looking like a normal person again.

“Can someone pretty please find some pain killers for me while I finish getting ready,” I ask, peaking my head into the room that all the boys were sitting in. I rub my eyes with deep pressure, hoping to bring some relief. Someone could be banging against my head with a hammer right now, and it wouldn’t even compete with the pounding inside it.

“Way ahead of ya,” Tony responded, holding up Advil and a water bottle. I look at him like he was a goddamn angel and give him a wide smile and a small exasperated ‘thank you’ before taking some and chugging the water. Then, Cam handed me an energy drink, and I just about kissed him.

“What would I do without you three,” I gushed as I cracked open the can.

“Probably not be so hung over,” Tommy jokes, making me giggle before turning back around to finish getting ready. Grabbing my make-up bag and whatever hair tools I brought with me, I head into the back of the bus, not caring how bumpy it would be. I just needed some space from voices.

But I still opened my phone to put on some quiet music since it was impossible for me to actually handle pure quiet, and see I had another message from Noah, making me smile. I looked around, checking to see if anyone had caught me, before saving his number on my phone. After I send him a simple good morning text, I turn on some music and go back to getting ready for the day.

After over an hour, my arms felt sore from forcing myself to put extra work into my hair. My make-up and hair were done, and I walked to the bathroom to take one last close-up glance over my appearance. Smiling at how well I did my eyeliner and wiping off any make-up that ended up on my piercings, I step back and glance at my full outfit. I was showing off a lot more skin than yesterday, and my stomach tattoos and a bit of my back piece were showing off since my shirt was more of a crop top, but I felt cute.

I make my way back out to the living area and expect to see the boys, but noticed we were already at the next venue, so they were probably out hanging with the other group already. Pulling out my phone again, I check the time and weather, seeing that I still had a lot of time before we had to do anything, and that it was a little warmer than where we were yesterday, even though it was mid-October, so I should probably still grab my cardigan and bring it with me just in case. But then my eyes land on a new message notification.

Noah🖤- Morning? It’s 2 pm

Noah🖤- but good morning to you too:)

Y/N- Shush

Y/N- I don’t know why I let you guys convince me to drink last night. I feel like death.

I close my phone and glance around the bus. This is probably one of the only moments I will get to myself on this tour, so I’m absolutely going to take advantage of it. I have a good two hours until sound check, so I walk over to the speaker on our bus and turn it on, pairing it with my phone and pressing play on one of my playlists before going to my bag and grabbing my laptop. I sit down in the back of the bus, turn on Demon Slayer, rewatching it for the millionth time, and sing along with my music. Maybe getting a little too into the music, since it wasn’t often that I had time to sing along to my favorite songs as loud as I could without feeling like I was bothering the boys.

Still choking on the bed

Found your waste while the ember red

Keeps falling down and burning in holes

Until the pillow and the mattress glow

I sang along to one of my favorite albums, not really paying attention to anything else as I tried to hit Vic’s notes.

Now I want to be the tattoo ink

That swims down through the needle in your skin

That’s when I heard someone cough to catch my attention, making me open my eyes. I guess I had been so entranced in the song and in hitting the notes that I was now sat back on the couch with my eyes closed.

I blink a few times and clear my throat before my eyes focus and I see Noah standing in front of me with a smirk on his face.

“I texted you a few times asking if you wanted to come join us, and then Tony told me to come and see what you were doing,” he confessed before laughing, “I was a little worried I’d walk in on something embarrassing, but that was actually really good.” I blushed a little at his compliment, hoping that my make-up covered it well.

“I- uh. Sorry. I just figured this was one of those rare times that I had to myself, you know? So I just let you all do your thing until you needed me.” I replied with an embarrassed chuckle.

“No, no, you’re all good. If you want me to leave, I’ll just get Tommy or someone to come get you when you’re needed,” he said, hooking a thumb over his shoulder. Then his eyes caught my laptop. “Are you watching Demon Slayer?”

“Yeah..?” I replied, eyeing him to see his reaction. He came over to me and motioned for me to scooch over so he could sit.

“I fucking love that anime.” I laughed as his eyes didn’t leave my screen. I stood up and walked over to where my phone sat and turned off my music, disconnecting it from the speaker and walked back. He had moved closer to the laptop, which was at an angle to face where I was sitting, so I walked around the small table it was sitting on, and moved the laptop to face straight towards the couch, and sat down about a foot from him, the show now being played in front of us. I know I wanted alone time, but this wasn’t so bad. I figured being alone with Noah would be awkward and uncomfortable, so it was nice being able to be in his presence and know I didn’t need to be so freaked out yesterday. I’m not sure if it was because I opened up my personality to him so easily yesterday, or just how sweet he was and how much we had in common, but I almost felt like I could treat him like any other friend. Like I had been close to him for years.

We watched for a little while before I felt eyes on me. I look up from the screen and see Noah looking at me, making me smirk. His eyes trailed down my body, following the lines of the ink in my skin like a maze. A giggle escaped my lips as I watched him out of the corner of my eye. He immediately dropped his gaze to the screen again after noticing he had been caught.

“You’re gonna miss some important scenes if you don’t pay attention,” I tease. He chucked softly.

“I’ve seen this anime so many times. I already know what’s gonna happen,” he defended with a shy smile. I gave him a fake, shocked look.

“So you intruded on my ‘me’ time to watch a show you’ve already seen?” I ask with my eyebrow raised. He looks at me with slightly widened eyes, about to defend himself, before I laugh, cutting him off,” I’m just kidding. This is probably my tenth time seeing it.” His head fell as he shook it with a smile before going back to watching, so I did, too.

“You sounded really good earlier, by the way,” he mumbled out after a few minutes. I look over at him through the side of my eye and smile.

“Thank you. I’ve been really working on hitting higher notes like that. It’s not easy for my vocal range.” I respond with a warm smile.

“Pfft. You have the craziest range I’ve ever heard. I can’t see those notes ever being a struggle for you.” he says, making me shake my head in disbelief.

“As if! I saw you guys a few years back, and you were hitting and holding notes I couldn’t even imagine doing.” I confess, elbowing him lightly, which caused him to laugh. But then his smile faltered slightly.

“Are you..uh.. talking about that one festival we did...?” He asked, watching for my reaction. I turned my head to the side, confused, before nodding, remembering that day, once again, as if it were yesterday.

“How..?”

“I uh.. I actually think I remember seeing you in the crowd.” he trailed off, his arm raising so his elbow rested on the back of the couch as he rubbed the back of his neck, losing eye contact in embarrassment. I did my best to hide the shocked look on my face as I turned to face him, giving him my full attention.

“Th-that’s kind of crazy..but actually pretty cool. Seeing each other again all these years later..” I weakly respond, not knowing how I should react to him remembering me on the day my life took a complete turn.

“Yeah. I actually..uh.. I also remember the day I saw a friend of mine post pictures of your band when he was traveling, and I just had to give you guys a listen, and I was really impressed.” I giggled softly, still shocked.

“Is that why the next day, Jolly reached out to Tommy? Because you saw us?” I teased. The words left my mouth before I even had control of it because, of course, the only way I knew how to keep conversations from being awkward was by joking. I internally curse myself before he answers.

“Yeah, I mean, I could never let a voice like that go unrecognized. I’m actually really happy that Jolly and Tommy became friends.. and that we managed to get this tour set up. I’m really glad… I got to finally meet you.” he confessed, making complete eye contact again.

“I can’t lie, I was worried I was never gonna see you again.” I said, before realizing I spoke before thinking, “You know..because..I enjoyed your music so much,” I tried adding with an awkward laugh and internally cursed at myself again. He gave me a look, letting me know he didn’t believe me.

“I was actually thinking the same thing…” he trailed off as we looked at each other. That was when I noticed how close I was to him. He had leaned in when talking, and now our faces were barely a foot apart. My breath hitched when I glanced down at his lips as he finished speaking. Don’t do it, Y/N. Not yet. You can’t let yourself give in on the second day of finally seeing him again. You won’t be able to handle it if this goes south in the future. I looked back into his eyes and saw that he was now looking at my lips, slowly inching forward. And I was too, not even in control of my body. I could feel his breath on me the closer we got, and suddenly, all restraint in my body left as I was about to close the distance, desperately needing to feel his lips on mine.

“SOUNDCHECK IN TEN MINUTES. GET YOUR ASS OUT HERE, Y/N,” Cam shouted in through the door of the bus, causing both Noah and I to jump. I look up at him with a shocked look before standing up, letting out a quiet ‘fuck’ before quickly grabbing my phone and cardigan. I feel a soft touch on my wrist but ignore it before rushing out the door and past Cam.

“Also, have you seen Noah? We sent him to get you, but he just disappeared.. never mind, then.” I heard him ask as I ignored him and walked to the venue.

Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. What the fuck are you thinking? You know better than this. Why the fuck did you let him stay and watch? You told yourself time and time again you wouldn’t let your feelings take control when you finally saw him again. And even fucking better, you haven’t even fully warmed up today! This is a goddamn job, Y/N. Not a touring party bus with occasional performances. I run my fingers through my hair, pulling on it, trying to ground myself again. God, I’m a fucking idiot. He probably only even tried kissing me because I’m the only girl here. Because that definitely wouldn’t be the first. Fucking hell, dude. You’re gonna ruin the tour for everyone.

I had reached side stage, waiting for the rest of my band, and started pacing. I feel a presence behind me and jump, looking over. Thank god it was just Tommy, with the other boys trailing behind him.

“Are you okay?” Tommy asked with a concerned look on his face. I finally stopped my subconscious pacing and let out a sigh.

“I uh..I just haven’t warned up..” which wasn’t a complete lie.

“Is that why I saw Noah walking out behind you on the bus?” Cam teased with a smirk, causing Tommy to smack him in the stomach, earning a slight ‘oof.’ I completely ignored them and saw the stage manager beckon us on stage for our soundcheck. I immediately walk out and in front of my mic, trying my hardest to ignore the weird looks I was getting from the boys. I let out a deep sigh before we started.

The boys sounded fine, but I didn’t. My voice cracked at every high note and I couldn’t hold my growls. I could feel tears threaten to escape my eyes.

“Y/N, what’s going on with you?” Tony asked from behind me. I turn to him and he immediately shuts his mouth when he sees the redness in my eyes. I hear someone walking up behind me.

“Hun, you can warm up when they do their soundcheck. It’s okay..” Tommy tries to comfort me as he rubs my back. I know he knows that it wasn’t my voice bothering me. Hell, something was upsetting me so much that it was throwing my vocals off. But he didn’t dare ask. He never did, not once in over five years I had been lying to him about the thoughts in my head. I give him a weak nod, and we all walk off stage. As we do, we run into the other group of boys. Folio goes to greet me but closes his mouth when he sees my appearance.

“She’s uh..she’s just having some trouble with her vocals today. So she’s gonna warm up then stay on vocal rest until we have to head on..” Tommy thankfully answers for me. Nick nods, and the other boys give me a pitying look. I don’t even glance at the tallest, not wanting to see what he looks like right now. My band and I walk to the room backstage and sit down as the other group walks on stage. I sit down, and Tommy continues to rub my back as I take some deep breaths.

“I know you don’t like to talk about these things, but you can’t do this all tour. For you. For us. For the other boys. So, please, Y/N, please talk to me when you need to,” Tommy spoke softly into my ear. He rarely ever used my name, always calling me one pet name or another, so I knew he was serious. I nodded with another deep breath.

“Can we have this talk tonight? I just...I need to warm up..” I asked him and he gave me a fast nod, surprised I was finally willing. I knew he was right. It’s been way too long bottling all of this up, so I had to say something, especially now that I gad to see the problem every single day.

“Do you want to do our warm-up, or do you want to be alone?” Cam asked me softly, almost like he didn’t want to upset me.

“I think it’s better for me to do it alone today. I have to let out some emotions...you know?” He nodded, understanding what I meant, and patted Tony’s shoulder, signaling for them to head somewhere else. Tommy gave me a kiss on my temple before standing up.

“If you need anything, just call. If one of those fuckers starts bothering you, I’ll beat their ass,” he jokingly threatened, hooking a thumb over his shoulder, pointing towards the stage. That made me giggle, which made him smile, seemingly happy he put a smile on my face. He followed the boys, and now I was left alone. With one last large sigh, I pulled out my phone, ignoring every notification, and opened Spotify, knowing exactly what song I had to put on to practice to let out some pent-up feelings. I typed it into the search bar, pressing the song, and turning my phone all the way up. The music started off soft and I cleared my throat. I had a good few minutes until they were gonna come off stage, so I was able to be alone just long enough to ‘sing’ this song with no embarrassment.

The vocals were about to start, so I inhaled, holding the phone up to one ear and my other hand cupped my other ear so I could hear myself, then I started singing along. My head and body moved as I tried to hold and reach each note, so I started walking around the room. There was a reason I never really sang songs like this in front of anyone. I had a few times around the boys, but after being told so many times that I sounded too manly when I showed off my ‘party tricks,’ even their compliments didn’t help, so I started hiding it from them again.

We’re dancing like flames

Flickering in the night

We sway in time with the wind

Before melting away

You're far from my reach

But not far out of sight

You know the way to my heart

But you just play the strings again

I paused to control my breath as the song continued. I hadn’t sung along to Lorna Shore in so long, not really having time to. I couldn’t do each scream Will did, but I had worked on different screams over the years that I could replace the ones I’ve been unable to learn. I joined back in singing along with the lyrics after a minute, and the grumble in my chest felt amazing. I really missed this. I held out every growl as long as I could and tried replicating his screeches to the best of my ability. The tunnel screams were my favorite to both hear and do. Eventually, the song ended, and I was so in the zone that I just let the next one play. I felt every emotion in my chest get shaken out with every growl I made. My head felt empty enough that I genuinely didn’t care if the boys came in to check on me.

‘Sun//Eater’ was now playing, and I continued letting out everything in my body as I sang along. I’d get a little frustrated when I couldn’t replicate certain parts of it, but I got so into it that I didn’t stop until the music faded out. I pulled my hands away from my head and turned down my phone volume after closing Spotify. I didn’t actually need to ‘warm up’ per se, so my clean vocals didn’t need any practice. I truly just needed to get all these emotions out.

I turn to make my way towards the door, ready to join back up with my band, when I came face to face with four incredibly shocked men. I paused and stood there equally as stunned. My mouth gaped open, about to let out a small ‘I’m sorry,’ but was immediately cut off.

“DUDE, THAT WAS SICK! WHAT THE FUCK!” Ruffilo yelled as he walked towards me. I couldn’t remove the shocked look on my face as the rest of them agreed almost as loudly. I didn’t know if I was more shocked at them catching me or the praise. I know we were both bands in the metal genre and that they were all nice guys who enjoyed my band's music, but I still never got a reaction like this from anyone before.

“I- uh,” and then I got cut off again as my band came running back, I’m assuming after hearing the yelling. I looked up at them with a shocked look as the other group looked at them like they had just discovered the most insane thing in their lives. My boys looked between all of us before finally making the connection.

“Oh, come on! I haven’t heard Y/N scream in so long, but you guys get to hear it?” Cam whines. Tony and Tommy walked over to me, and Tony put a hand on my shoulder.

“It’s crazy, right? But we can never convince her to perform like that on stage no matter how much we try.” Tony says with fake sadness, smirking down at me. Oh, they’re about to team up on me again, aren’t they? They did this every time they heard it. Just now, there are more people here to pressure me. The shocked look still hadn’t left my face, but was now closer to an offended one when I realized what he was trying to do. I look back at the rest of them, and they were all staring at me once again. I instantly shook my head. Absolutely not.

“Come onnnn,” Folio chimed in, “ That was the most incredible shit I’ve ever heard. If you don’t go do that on stage, I’m coming out and doing it, and you don’t want that.” he laughs out. I look between all their faces, each with a reassuring yet pressuring grin. I didn’t know how to respond, still overwhelmed by everything that just happened.

“I- I,” I stutter out. I really don’t want to, but they’re all begging me at this point. I continue looking at all of them, Tommy now having a pout and puppy-dog eyes.

“Fuck! Okay! I will. I guess I’ll try it out tonight, but if I get any bad reactions, none of you are ever allowed to hear me sing again.” I say exasperated. This caused them all to reach in and hug me, almost causing a dog pile, making me laugh.

“Wait, how would that work? You’re our lead singer.” Cam questions with a confused look on his face.

“Trust me, I’ll find a way, even if it means deafening you.” I threatened, pointing a finger at him, which caused a scared smile to form on his face.

I had just finished most of the songs on our set. My mind has been on overdrive this whole show, and I feel terrible that I haven't connected with the crowd as much as I usually do. We only had three songs left to do, the ‘Fan’s Choice’ and our two encore songs. My mind was running a mile a minute as I wondered if I should do this or back down. It was rare that I stole the choice away from the fans, so I’m worried they’ll be upset about that, and I’m also worried they won’t even enjoy it. I took some deep breaths before setting my mic back on its stand and looking towards the crowd, one full of beautiful fans who had been singing with me the whole night. I really didn’t want to disappoint them. So, with one heavy exhale, I began speaking.

“So, I know you may all know that it’s around the time for our special ‘Fan’s Choice’ song. And I know so many of you love it, which is why we do them every show. But tonight, we’re gonna do something a little different.” I spoke into the mic. The crowd cheered when I finished, but they quieted down a little when they saw my serious demeanor.

“Now, this wasn’t my choice, I have to warn you. So, if any of you have complaints, take them up with the boys behind me,” I paused to point at my bandmates, “ And the wonderful yet pressuring boys of Bad Omens.” I paused once more, knowing the crowd would get loud hearing their name. A smile creeps up on my face as they do.

“Tonight, I’m gonna sing something a little different. Hopefully, it’s a song many of you enjoy, but again, if you don’t, it’s not my fault,” I said, holding my hands up in defense with a smile. The music began over the speakers since none of the boys had any time to practice this. So it was just me and the speakers. It was just me performing this song. A few people in the crowd got rowdy as they recognized the opening cords, which gave me a little hope.

“I hope you all enjoy Lorna Shore because this is ‘To the Hellfire,” I yell into the mic as the music got louder and I was about to start. The crowd got so loud I could hear them over the music and even through my earpiece. I pulled the mic off the stand and began moving around, knowing I was about to put my whole body and soul into this cover after doing it so many times in my room alone. I let every inkling of anxiety leave my body as I begin screaming.

I’ll hold onto feeling until my final breath escapes

Gazing upon this world until it fades

Fall with me into the other night

We can go beyond the horizon again

Fall with me until we’re out of time

Let the current swallow

These whispers keep clawing

Your mind is dissolving light

I hold out the last note the best I can. My mind was entirely somewhere else. I forgot about all the people staring at me as I put my whole body into these screams. I know I don’t sound anything like Will, but I’m doing everything I can to at least hit his notes, even if I’m not getting his exact growls right.

After a good minute, I open my eyes, remembering where I was and turn towards the crowd. I felt so good in this moment, screaming my heart out. As my eyes reach the crowd, I see them going absolutely insane. There’s two giant mosh pits forming, and I’ve never felt so accomplished in my entire life. This is all I’ve wanted when I became a vocalist and started teaching myself to scream. I was close to the end of the song when I knew exactly what I wanted. I look towards Tony and nudge my head towards the crowd, holding the hand that wasn’t holding the mic out in front of me and moved it outwards, signaling to him what I needed his help for. He immediately understood with an excited smile on his face. He grabbed his mic and ran towards the front of the stage. The instrumental began as he shouted into the mic.

“ALRIGHT! I NEED EVERYONE TO SPLIT THIS BITCH DOWN THE FUCKING MIDDLE.” Instantly, those who were moshing stopped and began moving back. Those who were staying away from the moshers moved even farther back, knowing exactly what was about to happen, and did not want to get sucked in. I see Cam zoom past me out of the corner of my eye and jump off stage, right into the open floor, with the widest smile on his face. He stood exactly in the center, holding both arms in the air, and Tony joined him by raising the arm that wasn’t holding the mic.

“ON YOUR FUCKING MARK” Tony shouted.

Sink while you bathe in hallucination

“READY”

My final breath

“SET”

Swallowed by the womb of-

“GO”

DEATH

Cam’s and Tony’s arms shoot down like they were starting a race. I held out the note in the deepest tunnel scream I could. I watched as two waves of people ran to each other as fast as they could.

As you pass through the fucking gate

I did the best screech I could, switching halfway to a fry scream as I watched hundreds of people run full force into each other. I lost Cam the second the two walls of people met, but I knew he was loving every second of it.

Descending towards the end faster

Now was my time to shine. I did the pig squeals and snorts the best I could. After four good enough ones, I clenched my eyes shut, arched my back, and faced the ceiling, holding the mic above my mouth as I let out the longest pig squeal I’ve ever tried, shifting into a goblin scream halfway through as I threw my body forward into itself, compressing my lungs to get the loudest noise I could.

After I finished, my abs were killing me, but the feeling was immediately diminished as I saw the crowd lose their fucking mind. I pulled out my earpiece to hear them better. I laughed as I watched them all push each other and scream in adrenaline and excitement. I finally see Cam being crowd-surfed to the front with the widest, most insane smile I’ve ever seen, making me laugh harder. He returns to the stage and climbs onto it, out of breath. I feel hands on my shoulder and look to see Tommy with a proud look on his face. Instantly, I felt two more large men tackle me in a giant hug, screaming about how proud they were of me, and all I could do was try to keep my balance and laugh.

Finally, they pulled away, and I turned towards the still rowdy crowd with a proud grin.

“So, what I’m hearing is.. that you all enjoyed that?” I asked into the mic, immediately getting ground-shaking cheers in response. I made a face like I was thinking, “Hmm. I’ll see what I can do in the future then.”

The crowd was still insane as we sang the rest of the set, and it didn’t take too much to get them hyped up for the rest of the show. With a proud smile on my face and my brothers patting my back, we walked off stage and into the back, immediately getting tackled by more large men.

“That was so fucking good, Y/N, are you fucking kidding me?” Ruffilo praised. I gave them all a bright smile. Until my eyes landed on Noah’s, who was also wearing a proud smile. I looked down, biting my lip as I tried to hide my smile, and did my best to shimmy my way out of everyone’s embrace. I walked towards Noah, who was standing a foot away from the group. I had so much confidence pouring out that I completely forgot about how awkward the encounter should be.

“Hi,” I awkwardly greeted with a giggle.

“Hi”

“So..what’d you think?” I asked, rubbing the back of my neck, looking up at him with a shy smile.

“That was insane, Y/N.” He complimented with a low laugh. I looked down again, trying to hide my blush. “I knew you could sing and scream, but that...that was fucking incredible.”

“Really? You’re not just saying that?” I teased, crinkling my face in embarrassment.

“Fuck no. I told you earlier that your voice is amazing. I literally forced the whole band to listen to you when I first heard you, and to know you also had this in you is absolutely mind-blowing.” I feel my cheeks heating up more. And as much as I wish they didn’t, his words went straight to my ego. Probably because it was coming from him, of all people, but I think I’m finally feeling good about this. I looked back into his eyes and smiled.

“Thank you. I’m actually really thankful for you and your band. You guys gave us a chance, and you all pressured me into doing this,” I said with a laugh, “So I really appreciate it.”

“I’m just glad to see you finally believing in yourself like the rest of us believe in you, Y/N,” he spoke lowly after a moment, leaning down to my height like he only wanted me to hear. I bit my lip and looked at him. I didn’t understand. He was so… perfect? I know everyone’s been nice to me, but he especially has. Not once since we finally met has he done anything but help me or compliment me. All I could think when I looked at him was..appreciation? Adoration? I wasn’t sure. But when I looked into his eyes, I just felt..good. Like when you finally come home after a long day. When you finally lay in bed after being on your feet all day. Like being surrounded by the people who bring out the best in you.

And then I looked at his lips. All the thoughts from earlier came rushing back. Suddenly, there was no one else in the room but us. Hell, it felt like there was no one else on this earth but us. I glanced back up into his eyes, and it felt like I was back at that festival all those years ago. All my senses shut down. The only thing that my brain registered was his eyes. His beautiful fucking eyes. The eyes that haunted my dreams. My every waking thought. I can’t tell if I’m upset that this keeps happening or if I’m starting to enjoy it.

Jolly whips an arm over and pats Noah on the back, bringing me, or probably both of us, back to earth. I blink a few times and turn to everyone. Thankfully, the boys were all still in their own little conversation, probably talking about how they can use and abuse this ‘talent’ of mine now that they know I’m slowly opening up to it. But truthfully, I wasn’t actually paying attention. I couldn’t. Even though I looked away, I was still stuck in his presence, like a bubble keeping me in, drowning me in the same thoughts I’ve had for so long, just more concentrated. I can see Jolly say something to Noah, and him nodding back as a response. I see five mouths moving as they speak over each other, yet not a single voice registers in my brain. Wait, this was starting to get scary. What the fuck do I do? No, like actually. I feel stuck.

I watch as Noah gives me a short glance, almost contemplating something, before following Jolly past the other boys. Ruffilo and Folio catch them, say their goodbyes, and follow them as well. And now it was just me and my boys. But I was still stuck. He was gone, and I’m still stuck. My mind races, and I try hard to pick apart what specific thought is keeping me shut off from the world. Was it the compliments? Was it finally hitting me exactly what was happening, that I’d been spending time with the man who has plagued my being for what felt like centuries at this point? Was it my feelings towards him? Just hitting even harder now?

I get pulled from my thoughts to a hand waving in front of my face. I slowly look up and see Tommy with a concerned look on his face. He’s speaking, but once again, every word is just unintelligible to my brain. I go to open my mouth to speak, but there are no words I could even form right now. I watch as Tommy glances back at the other boys, who are now a little concerned as well. Tony comes forward and says something. I tried to read his lips, but everything was like I was underwater. Words jumbled, and everything became a blur. And then more blurry. And slowly, my peripherals turned dark. I saw Tommy reach out to hold my shoulders as Cam came forward, looking like he’d seen a ghost. I wanted to ask what was wrong, but then everything went black.

I quickly sat up, gasping, like I had just regained the ability to breathe. The world slowly came into sight. I blink a few times, then scrunch my face in discomfort as my ears begin ringing. Slowly but surely, the ringing passed, and I could finally hear again. What the fuck happened?

“Hun?” I hear to my left. I blink a few more times and turn, seeing Tommy looking at me. I give him a confused look. Tony was sitting next to him, looking the exact same. I coughed a bit before speaking.

“What the fuck happened?” It came out harsh as if I desperately needed water.

“Medics said it was probably an adrenaline crash... Dude, you scared the shit out of us.” Tony reached forward and held my hand tight.

“You’ve been out for a hot minute. Cam was freaking the fuck out, so we made him go wait off stage to let the guys know what’s happening.” Tommy said, reaching to rub my back. I run my hand through my hair and scrunch my face, trying to remember what even happened. Suddenly, I hear feet slamming against the pavement outside, then up the bus stairs. Noah appears, looking wild as his eyes finally land on me. He lets out a breath of relief once he sees me. He walks forward and crouches by my feet, resting a hand on my ankle.

“What happened? I come off stage to see Cam looking like someone died, and when we finally get anything out of him, he says she passed out.” Noah asks the two in front of me, running a hand over his face, both collecting sweat and to soothe himself.

“I don’t know, man. You guys head on stage, and we turn to her, and she’s as white as a ghost. Couldn’t even get her to say anything before she passed out in Tom’s arms. Medics say adrenaline crash, but I don’t know. It was fuckin scary, man.” Tony gets out, looking stressed as ever, hand still holding mine like I was about to drift away. Noah looks at me with a look mixed with terror and confusion, but also relief that I’m still here. I open my mouth to speak, causing him to tighten his grip on my ankle ever so slightly.

“Water.” was all I could get out. Noah and Tommy instantly stand up as Tony points to the case of water with the hand not holding mine. Tommy reaches it first and hands it to me. I chug it like I hadn’t had water in days. Once it was gone, Noah reached over and grabbed another, setting it beside me and returning to his spot at my feet. I run my hand through my hair again. I probably look like a fucking mess right now.

“I want to try to stand,” I state. They all look at me like I’m insane but slowly back up. I hook my feet around and off the couch that I guess someone laid me on. Using my arms, I push myself up. All three watched me, ready to catch me if anything happened. Gaining stability, I let out a deep breath and walk towards the bathroom. I take a peek at myself in the mirror and grimace. Who knows when my mascara started running, but it was everywhere. I grab an old towel and wet it, wiping under my eyes, before holding my hands under the water, letting the feeling ground me.

After about a minute, I walk back out to the boys, who all still looked like I was going to drop dead any minute, and I snicker.

“I’m fine, guys.“ I say, chuckling a little at their concern. I know I shouldn’t, but their faces were just a little funny. “Aren’t we off tomorrow? Shouldn’t we be heading to a hotel or something?”

They all nod, calming down a little that I’m now normal again, but still tense and on edge. I move to walk passed them.

“I’m gonna go let everyone else know that I’m okay, and then we can head over,” I say, walking down the stairs of the bus. I watch my feet, knowing I’m still a little out of it, but once I get on solid ground, I glance up, seeing four boys giving me the same look as the others, causing me to laugh again.

“Oh my god, I’m so glad you’re okay,” Cam gushes as he walks over to me and holds me tight. “I didn’t want to overwhelm you, so I stayed out here, but I almost cried.”

I chuckled and looked past Cam and at the other boys, who all nodded, agreeing that he did, in fact, almost cry, making me laugh harder. I gave Cam a tight squeeze before pulling away and looking up at him.

“I’m okay, I promise. I’m gonna rest on the way to the hotel, and everything will be back to normal once we get there,” I reassured him. And I guess the mention of the hotel reminded everyone, who all let out a tired groan.

“I’m so fucking ready to sleep in a bed again. I know it’s only been like three days, but those bunks are ass,” Folio whined, causing everyone else to nod in agreement.

“Alright, then, I’ll see you all in a little bit. I need some fucking water.” I said, turning around to head back into the bus. But once I turned, I almost ran face-first into Noah’s chest. I look up at him in shock as he looks down at me with the same reaction.

“Sorry..” he squeaked out. “I uh.. you all good riding back? I can join you if you need..” he mumbles. I give him a warm smile.

“I’ll be okay. The boys can take care of me if need be. I’ll see you all in less than an hour.” I give his arm a soft squeeze as he nods. I walk past him and onto the bus, Cam following suit. I sit back where I was lying before, grabbing the water he handed me earlier and opening it. Taking a quick glance out the window, I see them teasing him over something before walking back to their own bus, making me chuckle. After taking a few gulps from the water bottle, I set it down and turned to the three guys staring me down. My eyes widen, not knowing what I should’ve prepared for.

“You know I care about you, we all do, and we’re glad you’re okay, but you gotta spill.” Tony eyed me down. “I don’t care if you wanna just talk to me, I’ll kick these two into the back, but you’re telling me what the fuck happened earlier today, and if that had anything to do with you passing out.” I let out a sigh and leaned my head back against the couch.

“I mean... I guess it’s time I spilled everything. To all of you. Even though I know you’re all gonna tease me one way or another, it’s been too long to deal with this myself.” and that’s when I told them everything. From the day at the festival. To the days I spent lying in bed only thinking of him. The depression it caused. The rage. The song lyrics. Almost kissing him today. Even what I could remember before I passed out. I told them everything I could. All three of their faces switched between shock, concern, understanding, and outright bewilderment as I spoke. I spoke the whole ride to the hotel, and surprisingly, I was not interrupted once. Once I finished, they all seemed speechless.

“And now we’re at the hotel..” I notified them, bringing them out of their shock. I stood up to grab a bag, filling it with everything I needed for one night, and walked back to them. Not a single one has said a word yet. “You should probably grab some things so we can head in.”

“Oh! Yeah, yeah.” Cam said, being knocked back into reality as he stood, the others following him. I gave a nod towards the bus driver as I opened the door and walked off towards the hotel, leaving the boys and apparently him too in their own shock.

I walk through the doors of the hotel and see four giants causing a ruckus, probably waiting for us. They all stop when they see me like they got caught by their moms, making me laugh.

“By the way, the boys are gonna seem a little..perplexed..when you see them. Pay them no mind. They’re..uh..still upset about the whole passing out situation.” I laughed as they looked at me, then at my boys as they came walking in behind me, looking dazed out and deep in thought. It was a bad lie, but oh well.

“Anyway, we only have four rooms for all of us, and since you’re the only girl, you get to choose a roommate first,” Jolly said, handing me my card.

“Oh, pick me, pick me, pick me,” Folko joked, looking up and crossing his fingers, until Noah smacked him in the stomach, causing a loud ‘oof’ and a laugh from all of us. I thought for a moment. Do I say fuck it and pick Noah? Should I pick Tony or Cam and deal with their annoying asses all night? Do I pick one of the other boys and get to know them? Or choose the safe bet and pick Tommy?

“Uhh..Tommy,” I finally said. Jolly handed Tommy his card, and the rest figured out who was bunking with whom. I walk over to Tommy and lean a head against his shoulder, not tall enough to rest on it. He wraps an arm around me, and I look up but see that he was still lost in thought.

Once everything was situated, we all headed to the rooms we were given. I unpacked what I needed and headed to shower, not even calling dibs because I knew he would let me take it first anyway. Once I came out, clean and in my pajamas, oversized band tee, and shorts with fuzzy socks, I sat down in the bed I claimed earlier. Glancing over, I see Tommy still deep in thought.

“Penny for your thoughts, love?” I ask, catching his attention.

“So this whole time..”

“Yes, this whole time, it was Noah.”

“Since the festival?”

“Yes, the festival, like five years ago.”

“Why’d you never tell us?”

“It wasn’t really anything I was ready to be teased about until now.” I answered, shrugging.

“Are you planning to say anything to him?”

“What am I supposed to say? ‘Hey, I think the gods above put me in a trance when I first saw you, and now I’m stuck?” He took a minute to respond to that.

“I get that, but what if he likes you back?”

“You remember what I dealt with last time. After Gus, I was a fucking mess. Which is why I was even harder on myself with all of this.”

“Y/N. Noah isn’t Gus. Noah won’t hurt you that badly then..you know..”

“I know... it’s just..hard. Plus, I just finally met the dude face-to-face. I can’t confess anything to him now.”

“I get that. But you’re almost 27. You barely let yourself live after Gus. And then you hid yourself away the second whatever the fuck that was happened with Noah. So maybe just.. live a little?” After he said that, it really hit me. He was right. I definitely did my fair share of partying, but I was dealing with my ex for so long and just never put effort into mingling after. I sat there for a while, thinking about the best course of action to take here. Like, how long can I let this play out? Do I just go the rest of the tour, almost passing out when I see him? Do I act now? Can I rely on the fact that there is definitely something there? Am I even ready for something like this? If not, would he wait for me? Fuck, does he even like me? I mean, he tried to kiss me. There’s something there. But what if this feeling was only one-sided? What if I’m losing my mind over him, and he just has a small crush? Or what if he really likes me and immediately wants to start something? I don’t know if I could even handle a relationship right now. I just finally met him. Fuck. I let out a deep sigh. Fuck it. No matter the decision I make, my feelings will be at severe risk.

“Should I..should I go see him?” I finally ask wearily. I turn to see Tommy looking at me with wide eyes, but then they turn mischievous as he smirks.

“Just go..talk..you know?” He replies, a little too suspiciously. I immediately understood his undertones and rolled my eyes.

“Not like that. But yeah. To talk.” I chew on my lip, knowing that with talking alone comes with me losing control. But talking has to be done.

“Bitch! Go talk to him!” He whisper yells, emphasizing ‘talk’ again, making me laugh. I pull out my phone. It’s already midnight. Would he even be okay with hanging out right now? What if I bother whoever he’s staying with? I chew on my lip some more, feeling Tommy staring me down, before finally clicking on his contact and texting him. I hit send, and anxiety rushes over me. I just fucked up, didn’t I? I definitely did.

“Okay, well…I’m gonna go shower. If you’re not here when I’m back, just text me in the morning,” He winks at me before walking into the bathroom. I roll my eyes before letting out a groan. What the fuck did I just do?

Noah

I glance at my phone again. It’s already past midnight, and I’m too worked up to sleep. I want to text her and ask if she’s okay, but I know it’s stupid. She was fine when I saw her downstairs. I just got so scared. Cam looked at us with pure terror, I thought someone died. When he said her name with such sorrow, I almost took off there and then. Thankfully, I waited for him to finish and she had just passed out, but the pure fear I felt just wouldn’t go away. It still won’t.

Jolly keeps tossing and turning in the bed across the room, so at least I know I’m not the only one who can’t sleep. Who knows if it’s from the same thing, or just the fact we haven’t had a normal sleeping schedule in so long.

Suddenly, my phone buzzes. I assume it’s one of the guys who also can’t sleep, asking if we wanted to hang. I sit up and open my phone, clicking on the notification without even looking to see who it was. But as I read it, my eyebrows furrowed until I finally checked the contact.

Y/N🦇- Can I come over?

Y/N🦇- to talk?

I drop my phone and scramble to turn the light on beside my bed. The second I find the switch and light shines through the room, Jolly groans.

“The fuck, man?” he mumbles out.

“Y/N wants to come over..to talk? So uh… out.” I say, pointing towards the door. He looks at me, annoyed, but you can see the words register in his head before he gives me a tired smirk. He pushes himself off the bed, and throws a shirt and slides on.

“Have fun talking.” he teases with a chuckle as he grabs his phone and heads towards the door. I roll my eyes when he leaves before picking my phone back up.

Noah- Yeah of course. room 203

Y/N🦇- Okay:) I’ll be there in a few minutes.

My heart starts racing once I realize what’s actually happening. Why now? I mean, is she really coming to talk, or is this some type of booty-call? I rub my hand over my face, groaning. She’s definitely not a booty-call type of person. And she literally fucking passed out earlier. Plus, she freaked out when we almost kissed earlier…Fuck. I forgot we almost kissed earlier... Okay, just keep your distance and keep her comfortable. But what does she want to talk about?

Part Four

#noah sebastian #noah sebastian x reader #noah sebastian fanfiction #noah sebastian fic #noah sebastian and reader #badomens #bad omens #bad omens fanfiction #noah sebastian smut #noah sebastian reader insert

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shy-writer-999 · 5 days

Note

hm… any thoughts on who’d do something like orgasm denial or overstimulation on their s/o as “punishment” for like, not taking proper care of themself/getting hurt/trying to sacrifice themself/etc? and maybe what that’d entail?

I think we need more of dom Sanji … so this is what I have for u. I was initially thinking Zoro and Ace but I have written sooooo much for them the past couple weeks so let’s mix it up! see below the cut for what i came up with. idk what to call it but its like 700 words (๑>◡<๑) also i read through it once or twice so it is far from perfect -- plz excuse any typos for the moment! if you were hoping for someone else, send smth to my inbox for my pseudo-kinktober thingy and i can cook something up...

---

It had been a long, rough, and scary day. You almost got yourself killed by your own careless mistake, and you were in denial about how close it was. After Chopper cleaned up your wounds, you slinked back to your room and sat on the bed, mulling over what happened just a few hours ago.

When Sanji knocked on the door softly, he told you how worried he was about you, how sick he felt the whole time, and how relieved he felt seeing your face after such a long time. He kissed every part of you that he could, peppering you with kisses and treating you like you were something precious.

After a couple hours of cuddling and sweetness, you ended up with blond hair tickling your face and deep groans rumbling in your ears. Sanji’s cock dragged over your g-spot countless times—you were in bliss, about to let go and give into the euphoric fervor of your climax. It felt so good to be back in your beloved’s arms, even better now that his cock was buried deep inside.

“S-sanji, ‘m gonna cum, keep going.”

He froze.

“C’mon baby,” he growled in your ear, feeling your walls pulse and constrict around his cock, but staying completely still. “You think I’m just gonna let you cream on my cock after what you pulled today? Almost getting yourself killed?”

“Sanjiii please, I want it” you pouted and whined, trying to move your hips to no avail. He brought a hand to cup your cheek.

“I’m being serious, gorgeous.” His tone was stern and all the lust in it seemed to disappear. “Never put yourself in danger like that again. You don’t know how fucking worried sick I was. Never play with my heart like that again.”

You frowned. “Sanji, I won’t. Now move.”

“Listen to me. I’m not going to move until I’ve gotten through your thick skull. Never put yourself in harm’s way again. Repeat it back to me.”

Your voice strained. You were starting to get desperate—he was just sitting inside of you not doing anything. It was going to drive you crazy. You had a shit day and just wanted him to fuck the pain away. “I promise I won’t ever put myself in harm’s way again, Sanji. I promise.” The pleasure and need were getting to your head, you’d do anything he said at this point.

“Never?”

You shook your head and glared up at him. “Never.”

“Now tell me how bad you want it.” He smirked and you complied, shamelessly.

“I want it Sanji. Please. Need your cock in me so bad.”

When he decided you’d begged enough, Sanji pulled out of you slowly and plunged back in. He fucked you hard and angled his tip so it pressed on your sensitive spot with each thrust. He rubbed your clit so much that you came within a few minutes, but he wanted to get his fill, so he kept fucking you.

“’s too much Sanji,” your eyes rolled back in your head, and you were shaking from the overstimulation.

“Too much? That’s what you get. That’s what you get for putting yourself in harms way. Do you understand?”

You nodded furiously and didn’t say anything else. The only sounds that left your lips were moans and mewls for him. The overstimulation was overwhelming, but he made it feel so good. Anything he did with his cock was mind-blowing, toe-curling magic.

By the time Sanji came in you, you had absolutely no clue what was going on. The pleasure whisked you away somewhere, but you were brought back to reality by his kisses.

“Good job my love. Don’t forget what you promised me, okay?”

“Mhm, Sanji. I won’t forget. I promise.”

He petted your head then asked you if you wanted to cum again, and of course you said yes.

#sanji fanfic #sanji x reader #sanji x you #sanji x y/n #sanji smut

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ivysangel · 9 months

Note

in an alternate universe partition was written about dick grayson because it's so him i just KNOWWW he'd do that shit!! with his cocky smile and everything 🤭

NONNIE NONNIE NONNIE !!!!!!! saw this ask half asleep while checking my notifs and had to force myself to get some rest instead of answering it bc i got SO excited even in my delirious half asleep state. obviously i'm listening to it rn while writing this, like NONNIE ??? i'm smiling, literally not joking i'm cheesin like a fucking loser. quick ro lore before we get into the GOOD stuff: massive beyoncé stan, MASSIVE partition stan !!!! massive music lover and pop culture fiend too like this might just be my favorite ask ever. anyway.

who said in an alternate universe bc it's definitely this one. i literally ghostwrote the song with dick grayson in mind err? like i do just wanna be the girl he likes (everybody point and laugh). like the song, aside from being about super hot sex, is about being so into your partner that you'll give everything to them, do anything for them, put all this effort into catching their eye as if you don't already have it. 'take all of me i just wanna be the girl you like' (cassie in euphoria s2 is that u?) IS SOOOOOOOOOOO REAL TO ME !!!!! like i would do anything for him. (side note, why am i listening to partition and hearing jay on the bg vocals? like am i going insane orrr)

(everything under the cut is just smut)

'he popped all my buttons and he ripped my blouse/he monica lewinski'd all on my gown' and 'took forty-five minute to get all dressed up and we ain't even gon' make it to this club' ??? oh exactly. you put all this effort into looking good for him, and unlke CASSIE in eufuckingphoria season 2, it works out for you oh my god it does. 'driver roll up the partition please/i don't need you seein' yoncé on her knees' bc...car sex. but you're not going to a club, no it's a wayne enterprises gala and you don't even get there until hours later because you're almost fully naked in the back seat getting dicked down by dick grayson !!

'handprints and footprints on my glass, handprints and good grips all on my ass' ugh real music literally real fucking music. you're straddling him as he manspreads, cock buried in you, and your fingernails are digging into the black leather seats. his ties been loosened, shirt opened, and there's red smudged on top of blooming hickeys. the glass is foggy, the only semi clear parts being your handprints from when the pleasure got overwhelming. 'now my mascara runnin', red lipstick smudged/oh, he so horny yeah, he want to fuck' like it's dick grayson, he'd fuck you into next week on a normal day so ofc he'd do it when you get all dolled up. ofc everyone's wondering when pretty boy grayson's gonna make an appearence in front of the flashing cameras. 'over there i swear, i saw them cameras flash' rolls down the partition just a smidge, to tell the driver to park somewhere private so you're not caught in an extremely compromising position. not that he really cares, everyone already knows he gets play anyways, it's more about your comfortability. tits out and pussy facing the world, on the cover of tmz and shit bc he got just a bit too cocky. no never that.

'cheauffer eavesdroppin' tryin' not to crash' you and the driver both end up getting a tip that night. he's sorry, he really is. but he just couldn't resist you, not when you were dressed like that. your intention was to have amazing mind blowing sex with dick that night but not in the back of a moving car. 'driver roll up the partition, please/i don't need you seein' yoncé on her knees' bc it was just supposed to be some quick head and now his pants are ruined, your dress is torn, hair messed up on both ends, and the amount of hickeys between the both of you is concerning.

you'd do it all again tho, and he knows you would. shit, he would too !!! and that's so evident in the way he teases you for the next few weeks about it. asking if he should take the dress to the dry cleaners knowing it looks like you'd been in a fight, suggesting you wear the lipstick shade from that night, asking if you need a cheauffer anytime you have to go anywhere, and giving you knowing looks everytime someone asks why you guys showed up at the gala over an hour late. "wardrobe malfunction and car trouble." he says with a smile. it looks normal to whoever you're talking to but you know it holds a level of cockiness that is so completely unfathomable, a level of cockiness he only gets when he fucks you.

(got a little carried away nonnie my b. ughh how i love a good lyrical breakdown, even out of order lol. seriously, this made my day. literally woke up and got straight to it. did not proofread this bc i...just woke up lmao)

#dick grayson lover #dick grayson x reader #dick grayson smut #nightwing smut #nightwing x reader

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atlafan · 5 months

Text

“You’re not the third base coach, you know?” Layna teased Harry. “Well, you could coach people on third base, but that would be an adults only thing.”

“We have been to every single one of your nephew’s little league games this season. This is a big game, I’m paying atten-that was a ball, ump!”

“You’re going to embarrass him.”

“Plenty of other parents are-good eye, Joshy! It wouldn’t kill you to show your support.”

“Alright.” Layna clears her throat. “Down by the bay, where the watermelons grow…” the other players on the bench start singing along, and Harry rolls his eyes. “Did you even play sports growing up?”

“Of course I did.” Harry scoffs. “I played soccer, baseball, and I ran cross country.”

“Ooohh, a jock.”

“I wouldn’t put myself in that category. I didn’t do well in my classes, so I let myself be a good athlete. Oh, that call was bullshit. That’s a ball!”

Josh frowns as he comes back over to the bench, pulling his helmet off. Harry goes right over to him, and takes a knee to be at eye level.

“Hey, don’t let it get to you.” He assures the young boy. “That umpire needs better glasses. He probably knows the coach on the other team. You did great up there.”

“I should have swung. Grandpa always says to go down swinging.” Josh pouts.

“Next time you’re up to bat you can do that. Shake it off, yeah? No matter what, Auntie Layna and I are taking you for pizza and ice cream afterwards.”

“No way?! Just us three?”

“Just us three.”

“Cool!” Josh heads over to his coach and his teammates, feeling much better about his strikeout.

Harry makes his way back over to Layna and puts his arm around her shoulders. She looks up at him, grinning.

“What?”

“Nothing.” She giggles and buries her face in his chest. Harry laughs softly and curls his finger under Layna’s chin so she’ll look up at him. He shuffles them over to the side of the bleachers so they’re not front and center in everyone’s view. “It’s nothing.”

“Just tell me. Make fun of me for being like a baseball dad.”

“I wasn’t going to. I got that out of my system before.” She bites her bottom lip as she looks up at him. “You’re really part of the family.”

“I like your family. Well, not so much your parents, they’re in sane. But your brother’s kids are cool.”

“They love you.”

“I like being involved. I should volunteer next season.”

“It would take you an hour to get out of the city every day to make it here in time.”

“Meh.” He shrugs. “The coaches clearly aren’t teaching them fundamentals. They’re not boosting their confidence.” Layna giggles into his chest again. “What is it?”

“Nothing.” Her arms a wrap around his neck. “I just love you.”

“I love you too. Now tell me why you’re giggling. I’m obviously doing something.”

“I was just thinking…you’re going to be a great dad someday, and I really hope it’s to my children.”

“Who else’s father would I be?”

“I don’t know. You could decide you don’t like me anymore.”

“Not possible.” He looks around before sneaking a kiss. “Let’s go have sex in the car.”

“Harry!” She squeals. “We can’t.”

“Obviously not here, we’ll drive somewhere.”

“We can’t just leave. We promised pizza and ice cream.”

“You can’t just bring up wanting me to be the father of your kids and not let me do something about it.” He pinches her hip. “That’s a paddlin’.”

“Noooo, don’t be mean to me, daddy.”

“Now you’re really gonna get it.”

“After pizza and ice cream, I’ll let you fuck me in the car before we drive home.”

“And then?”

“And then you can fuck me all night long and make the bed shake and I’ll be a good girl and take everything you give me and thank you for it.”

“That’s exactly what I wanted to hear.” He grins wickedly. “Consider the paddlin’ rescinded.”

“Thank you.”

“You’re welcome.”

No Complaints Blurb

#no complaints #harry styles imagine #harry styles fic #harry styles smut #harry styles fluff #harry styles x reader #harry styles y/n #harry styles x y/n #harry styles #harry styles x oc

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ckret2 · 1 year

Text

Chapter 19 of Human Bill Is The Shack's Prisoner But They Haven't Told Anybody Yet (title tbd), featuring: Wendy!!! Who hasn't been told yet! But she sure as heck knows something is going on.

also featuring: Bill wrangling Mabel into a secret plot against her better judgment; guest appearances from Soos, Melody, Thompson, and baby dragons; and digging into what Wendy's got going on under the "cool girl" facade.

####

Sitting on the attic bench, Mabel said, "Okay, here's an abstract one."

Lying spread eagle on the floor staring at the ceiling, Bill said, "Hit me."

"A president, an astronaut, and a movie star."

Bill paused. Bill looked at the ceiling thoughtfully. Bill said, "Which president?"

"Your favorite."

Without hesitation, Bill said, "Bury the astronaut, bed the—"

"Stop doing it wrong!"

Bill sighed noisily. "Betray the astronaut, befriend the movie star, and betroth the president."

"Really? You never marry politicians over artists."

Bill hesitated. "I don't?"

"Which president are you thinking of."

"I'm not playing anymore."

"Bill. Which president—"

"I quit. I'm bored now."

"Give me a hint," Mabel insisted. "Is he on a dollar bill—"

Bill sat up and pointed out the attic window. "Oh wow, what's that!"

Mabel's head whipped around to look.

"It's a change of topic!"

Mabel whipped back to glare at Bill.

"No—no, I'm serious, don't give me that look." Bill lowered his voice. "I've actually been meaning to bring this up. It's something I need your help with."

Mabel gave him a skeptical look—behold the coward, trying to weasel out of admitting which president he clearly had a crush on—but said, "What is it?"

Bill glanced around. "Not out here. Anyone could listen in. Somewhere private."

Mabel pointed out the window. "But Candy's mom's about to pick me up..."

Bill stood up and peered out into the early nighttime dark. "Not for at least fifteen minutes, she isn't. I'll be quick. Come on."

"You're acting really suspicious."

"No, I'm acting secretive. You're the suspicious one. When have I ever given you any reason to be suspicious of me?"

Mabel raised a brow.

"Point taken. When have I given you any reason to be suspicious of me this year?"

Mabel raised the other brow.

"Any reason this week."

"You have had a good week," Mabel conceded. "Fine, but I'm not taking you somewhere private without taking precautions."

"Fine," Bill said. "What precautions?"

####

He looked in dismay at the sock gloves tied onto his hands with yarn. "You couldn't have at least given me the colorful socks?"

"Sorry! Dipper's socks are thicker than mine and all he has are white. I'm not taking any chances."

"You hate me."

Mabel shut the bedroom door. "Okay!" She sat on her bed. "So tell me what it is you want."

"Okay," Bill said.

He told her.

When he was done, she studied him with a thoughtful frown.

"What? I thought you'd love the idea!"

"I do," Mabel conceded. "The problem is all the other things you could do once you get your hands on it."

"From inside this shack? Not a lot."

"Mmm... It is a great idea..." Mabel screwed her face up. "I'll think about it."

"For how long?

"Give me a day."

"We don't have a day to spare. We're working in a very narrow timeframe if we want to pull this off."

"And whose fault is that?" Mabel planted her hands on her hips. "You pushed this on me at the last minute so I couldn't think it over!"

"I did not," Bill said, affronted. "I only thought of it myself a couple hours ago. Do you think I'd have wanted to do this last minute if I'd thought of it any sooner?"

Mabel wouldn't put it past him, if he thought the pressure would make her more likely to agree. "I'll consider it."

"For how long? Look, kid—it's a great idea, you know it's a great idea, but the longer we take to get started the less likely it'll happen, and if you don't do your half I can't do my half, and then the whole thing's ruined—"

"Hey!" Mabel pointed at Bill. "I said I'll consider it! If you try to make me answer before Candy's mom gets here, it's gonna be no."

"Okay, okay!" He raised his socked hands. "So, what—by morning?"

Mabel thought, then nodded. "Okay. I'll decide by the time I'm back from Candy's."

Bill cracked a wide smile. "I know you won't let me down." He glanced out the window. "And good timing; your ride should be here in..."

He trailed off. Mabel had put her glass pyramid from Ford in the window so it could catch the sunlight, and Bill was completely focused on it. "Hey, where'd you get that?"

Mabel looked at the pyramid. "Oh, that? Grunkle Ford gave that to me."

"He did?" Bill looked at her with undisguised shock. "What for?"

This was it. This was Mabel's opportunity. The moment she'd prepared for. With a casual shrug, she said, "To commemorate my initiation."

Bill's eyes widened further. "Your initiation?"

"Uh-huh. Into the Mysteries."

"Into the MYSTERIES?" If Bill's eyes got any bigger, they'd fall out of his skull. "Hold on a second! Did Stanford join a mystery cult? And he didn't tell me? Which one! Is it about me?"

Mabel tipped her head back. "I'm sorry, Bill, but I don't think you've been initiated into the Mysteries. I can't tell you what they're about."

"It's about me," Bill insisted. "It's got to be about me, why else would it involve..." He flailed one socked hand at the pyramid.

Out the window, Mabel glimpsed headlights sweeping by below. Perfect timing. "Sorry, Bill, that's my ride!" She put on her sleepover backpack, scooped up a doll—Allie-Ann the Alien could come this time—and tried to shove Bill toward the door. "Move. I'm not leaving you in here unsupervised."

As Bill was pushed, he twisted around to stare in wonder at the pyramid. He tripped over a pile of Dipper's dirty clothes and stumbled shoulder first into the wall. "Ow. At least give me a hint! Where did the Mysteries originate? Are we talking the original Greek stuff? Fishmasons? Cheap knock-off Cabala? Real Kabbalah? I've been expecting Sixer to get into that for years. It can't be, I didn't have anything to do with Kabbalah—"

"Who said the Mysteries have anything to do with you!"

"But the pyramid—!"

Mabel got Bill out of the bedroom with one last big shove and slammed the door. He stumbled over his feet and almost hit the wall again before righting himself. Mabel jogged past him to the stairs. "Bye, Bill!"

"Kemetism," Bill tried. "I'll be so disappointed in Ford. At least tell me it isn't Kemetism!"

"See you tomorrow!"

Bill groaned. "Hey! Remember what we talked about!"

The door slammed.

Bill dragged his hands down his face. His fluffy hands. Right. He'd forgotten to ask her to free him.

He looked at one of his hands suspiciously. "It's not Kemetism, right?" he asked it. "You wouldn't do that to me."

He manipulated the sock into a hand puppet, deepened his voice, and said, "Of course I wouldn't, Bill. You taught me to have better taste than that." Gah, terrible impression. He sounded more like Stan than Ford.

Bill could go downstairs and pester one of the humans into freeing him from his sock gloves; or, he could figure it out himself, in case they tried to restrain him like this again.

Bill sat on the floor and started chewing through the yarn.

####

Wendy's parents looked at the forest differently.

They both had a tendency to go still and quiet when they were surrounded by trees, but that was where the similarity ended. Her father looked at the forest with Knowing, and her mother looked with Seeking.

Her father was a lumberjack. Her father was a Corduroy. He stood in the forest like he was a tree himself: still, tall, skin rough like bark, rooted to the spot by six generations. Wendy didn't know why "family trees" were illustrated as branches and leaves. They were root systems; your ancestors were buried deep below your feet, and their bony grips on your ankles slowly pulled you down into the dirt too.

Her father looked at the trees like he already knew every secret they held—every ancient lightning scar, every squirrel love affair, every bird with too many eyes and every eye in search of a bird. If you asked him where the Hide Behind was, he'd point at a tree without hesitation, and then he'd tell you to stop staring.

That was the thing with him: stop staring. He knew everything about the forest, except the things he didn't, and the things he didn't know he didn't want to know—and he didn't want his children to know them, either.

When her mother stood in the woods, eyes upturned, quaking like an aspen, she was like a pilgrim in a cathedral, standing weary and rapturous in the nave and gazing up at the stained glass windows. In later years, she'd seemed like a pilgrim who'd just realized she'd walked into the wrong god's church.

Aspens weren't native to Gravity Falls. You found them around Portland.

Her mother always wanted to know more. She talked about things her husband didn't and asked about things he wouldn't. But Wendy didn't think she was ever happy with the things she found out.

One of Wendy's last memories of her mother was of seeing her standing on the overgrown path to the old, abandoned Corduroy family cabin in the woods. Staring at it like it terrified her, but like she had some question she couldn't leave without asking it.

Her father, knowing what he knew and refusing to seek more; her mother, always seeking but never comfortable knowing; and Wendy was somewhere in between.

Wendy had worked in the Mystery Shack long enough that she knew where its occupants were, the way she knew where her heart and lungs were. When there weren't tourists, she could hear the pipes in the morning and know Mabel was showering upstairs—it was always Mabel, everyone else in the shack either showered before Wendy arrived for work or after she'd left for the day—and she could hear the TV through the "Employees Only" door and know from the cadence of the muffled murmurs whether it was playing an English or Spanish station; and she knew when somebody was cooking and could tell who it was based on the smell; and through the floor boards she could hear the washing machine in the cellar, but she could predict when laundry day was coming two days ahead of time because Soos had run out of white dress shirts and switched to blue.

She did the same thing at home. From her room, she was always aware of where her brothers and her father were supposed to be—there was a little hole in her awareness where she felt like her mother should have been—and each thud and smell and footstep and shut door confirmed her instincts. She wondered if she got that awareness from her mother or her father.

From her post behind the cash register, she was quietly, casually aware of where everyone should be. And when something was wrong, she knew.

####

Mabel came into the shack through the gift shop entrance, wearing her sleepover backpack and carrying a stuffed doll under her arm. "Hey Wendy!"

"Hey, Mabel." Wendy glanced at the ceiling under the upstairs bathroom. She could still hear the pipes running to the shower. Huh. Maybe Dipper decided he didn't want to stink this summer. "What's up?"

"Not much, not much." Mabel heaved herself up to sit on the counter next to the cash register and set her alien doll beside her. "So. Wendy. Home girl. I need a little help, and I hear you're the gal to help me."

"Oh, yeah?" Wendy propped her chin in her hand. "What kind of help?"

"You have a fake ID, right?"

A surprised smile crept across Wendy's face. "Yeah? Why?"

"The gas station cashier knows my family too well for me to use mine."

Wendy laughed. "Okay, you know what? I'm in, just to find out what a thirteen-year-old needs a fake ID for. I can't do drinks, but anything you need to be eighteen for, I've got you covered."

"Awesome! I'll see you after work?"

"How about my lunch break? Thompson's picking me up to go get something." Since the start of summer, Soos had asked Wendy not to keep her lunch in the kitchen fridge anymore. He said it was because between his own household and the visiting Pines, there wasn't any extra space. It was too crowded. "Too crowded" was the same reason he'd also asked Wendy not to eat in the kitchen, or use the indoor toilet, or spend her break in the living room. Wendy had her doubts. "We could get lunch at the convenience store instead of a drive-thru."

"Even better! Thanks, Wendy! I'll see you at lunch!" Mabel waved as she ran to the living room.

Upstairs, the shower turned off.

Wendy stared at the ceiling. Huh.

####

When Soos escorted the first tour group of the day into the gift shop, Wendy greeted him by bursting out laughing. "Your suit."

For almost two weeks now, Soos had been conducting his tours in a slightly-too-tight, slightly-too-short suit jacket Wendy would bet he'd had since high school. He hadn't said anything about it, but Wendy figured something had happened to his normal coat on the night he and the Pines had been dealing with that thing they refused to talk about.

But today, he finally had his usual, properly-fitted jacket back on; but the sloppy repairs done to the huge gashes in the back stood out like a sore thumb. "Man, you never told me your paranormal problem did this much damage."

Soos winced. "Is it that bad?"

"Dude." Wendy laughed. "The back of your jacket is shredded. It looks like you escaped a horror movie." She paused. "Uh—the repairs aren't bad though! They look great. You did a great job."

"Thanks, but it's okay. I'm gonna work it into the show. I'm telling the tourists a mama dragon almost killed me."

Wendy's eyes lit up. "Did you finish the baby dragons?"

Soos glanced around to make sure none of the shopping tourists were listening too close, then picked up a cardboard box. "Boom. Check 'em." It was full of live lizards with rubber bat wings attached with alien superglue. "Awesome, right? I'm gonna set up a terrarium for them in the museum. I'm putting in some red Easter eggs like they just hatched."

"This is gonna blow the tourists' minds." Wendy fished around under the cash register for a bag of chips and dropped a couple in for the lizards. "So... what was going on here a couple weeks ago? You never told me."

"Um." Soos immediately lost the ability to meet Wendy's gaze. "Well. It's—it's complicated."

"What, is it still a secret? I figured it was over by now," Wendy said. "It wasn't actually a dragon, was it?"

"No."

"Then what, a werewolf?"

"No... I really can't—"

"A ghost?"

Soos paused. "Define 'ghost.'"

"Uh... any kind of dead person."

Soos squirmed uncomfortably under the weight of the interrogation. "Does it count if the person should be dead, but, for some reason, is not?"

"Did we have another zombie uprising?"

"Not exac—"

A muffled voice shouted, "Hey!"

Something above the shop thudded. Wendy saw a light flicker. Wordlessly, she and Soos looked up.

"HEY! This isn't what we agreed to!" The thudding traveled across the ceiling, meandering through the gift shop. A few tourists gasping in alarm as the lights swayed over their heads. "If you think you can keep me locked up in here, you'll regret it! Let! Me! OUT!"

Everyone in the gift shop—Soos, Wendy, and a dozen tourists—fell completely silent, looking up. The ceiling creaked and rattled above them one final time before falling silent.

Soos swallowed hard. He let out a strained laugh. "Whoops, heh. Guess you guys found out what happens to tourists who don't buy anything. Am I right?"

The tourists laughed.

"Ha! Yeah, you guys get it! Wendy, hold down the fort a minute, I've gotta... check on something I forgot to deal with. Um. With the... spooky sound effects."

He rushed through the "Employees Only" door.

####

When Soos cracked opened the bathroom door, Bill's face was inches away, wet wavy hair dangling all over his face, irritated red eyes glowering straight into Soos's.

Soos flinched. "Dude. You jumpscared me."

"Nice of you to finally free me from the bathroom." Bill elbowed past Soos.

Soos rubbed his stomach where Bill had shoved him. "Hey, Bill—I know getting stuck stinks, but uh.... if you shout like that, the tourists could find out about you, you know? And you don't want that."

Bill whirled around. "Correction: if you don't keep your promise to let me move freely around the shack, you cause the tourists to find out about me, and you don't want that! We both know you'd never give me any rights if I didn't make the alternative worse for you—so if you don't want to risk getting arrested for kidnapping, don't put me in a position where I have to make things worse."

Soos patiently waited for Bill to finish spinning the narrative in his favor. "Okay," he said, "granted. But I just sort of accidentally didn't tell someone else to listen for you while I was giving a tour." Soos spread his hands in what he hoped was a conciliatory gesture. "Perhaps, in the future, you could make spooky ghost noises to remind me you're up here, so I can go 'Oh no, I forgot the triangle guy is taking a shower' without the tourists suspecting anything, instead of escalating straight to self-endangerment? That—that seems mutually beneficial, right?"

Bill considered that. He screwed up his face. He said, "Sure! Fine. That's fair." His voice was a lot more chipper than his sour expression. Soos wondered if Bill was aware that his face gave stuff away. "Next time I should just get Stanford to supervise. He'd say I have an hour and he'd be back in sixty minutes and zero seconds."

"Yeah, I don't think Ford wants to do that. Lately he's kind of busy with the whole figuring-out-how-to-kill-you thing."

"And I don't want to shower. Nobody is happy." Bill turned away from Soos. "Is Mabel home yet?"

"Uh, I think I saw her in the kitchen—"

And just like that, Bill lost interest in anything Soos had to say. He drifted down the stairs, stumbled on a couple of steps, and was gone.

####

Soos returned to the gift shop. "Thanks, Wendy."

Wendy dragged her gaze down from the ceiling. "Sure, no problem." She opened her mouth to ask what all that had been about; then decided she didn't need to hear again that she couldn't be told anything about whatever was going on here. But something was going on.

Whenever a customer wasn't checking out, Wendy listened to every creak and sigh of the wood, the way her mother once listened to the wind rustling in the birch trees. There were so many more thuds and thumps in the shack than there used to be; she'd noticed it for days. From her post behind the cash register, she was quietly, casually aware of where everyone should be. And when something was wrong, she knew.

There was something wrong in the Mystery Shack.

Time to start seeking.

####

Mabel trotted out of the gift shop in a dark blue sweater with an old-fashioned Polaroid camera knitted on the front. The camera lens was a piece of reflective plastic that looked like it had been popped out of a pair of sunglasses. She was also wearing a pair of cheap plastic reflective sunglasses with one lens missing, so Wendy didn't think there was much mystery about how Mabel had made this sweater. Mabel plopped down on the steps outside the shop beside Wendy to wait for Thompson's arrival.

"Okay," Wendy said, "I've gotta ask. How did you know about my fake ID?"

"Robbie said Tambry told him!"

"Oh, you guys are hanging with Robbie?" Wendy wondered if he and Tambry were back together again. She should ask Lee; he'd be the most likely person to know who it wouldn't be awkward to ask.

"A little. He's working on a music video that he wants creepy synchronized twins for, so he asked me and Dipper. We met up to talk about the details."

"Oh dude, he mentioned he was working on some kind of spooky song. Something about the 'ghost of childhood'?"

"That's the one! We're the childhood ghosts."

"Awesome. Let me know how it goes."

Mabel gave her a thumbs up. "Okay, I answered your question, now you have to answer one!" Her voice dropped to a faux whisper. "Why do you have a fake ID? Is it so that you can work at a casino across the border where you rendezvous with a handsome foreign spy?"

Wendy laughed. "What? No." She looked around. "I'll tell you, but you can't tell anybody else. Except Dipper I guess, he's cool."

"Promise!"

Wendy took off her flannel shirt, tugged her hair over her shoulder, pushed aside her undershirt to expose her right shoulder blade, and turned her back toward Mabel. "Check it out."

"Whoa! Tattoo!" Mabel poked the bag of ice tattooed on Wendy's shoulder.

"Yeah, I got inked in February. I think it's cool. Like, it's a weird tat, right? Who gets a tattoo of a bag of ice? But if you know, you know. That makes it personal." Wendy pulled her shirt back on and buttoned it up. "Plus, in like five years, I'll probably be dating someone who goes—" she put on a false high voice, "'Hey Wendy, why did you get this tattoo?' And I can go," Wendy squinted off toward the distant trees and adopted a faraway voice, "'It's a long story. About the greatest fight of my life. When the world... nearly ended.' All serious. But then it's still a dumb bag of ice."

"That's such a cool idea. We should all get matching tattoos!" Mabel pulled up her sweater sleeve, showing off her rainbow rock bracelet. "What if I get it on my wrist! So that the tail of the shooting star wraps around it like a bracelet! Do they have glitter tattoos?"

Wendy chuckled. "I don't know, but that sounds awesome. But you guys are gonna have to wait like, five years to get yours. Ooor, get a fake ID that says you're eighteen." She winked. "Robbie's talking about getting one too. He wants it on his chest, over his actual heart. I'm still waiting for a really funny time to be like, 'Oh, you haven't done it yet? I already got one.'" Mabel laughed.

Thompson pulled up, and they piled into his minivan.

####

Wendy wasn't quite sure what she'd expected Mabel to need an 18-year-old's assistance for (her best guess had been helping Stan commit voter fraud), but nowhere on her list had she considered—

"Scratch cards," Mabel said to the cashier. She would have looked like a real slick customer, with her serious expression and reflective shades, if one of the lenses hadn't been missing. She was a 50% slick customer. "I'm gonna need to see, uhhh..." She pointed at three of the scratch cards on display behind the cashier. Their art displayed a purple unicorn, a diamond-encrusted tiara, and a neon beach party. "All of these!"

The cashier gave Mabel a skeptical look. "How old are you, again?"

Wendy leaned on the counter beside Mabel and quickly said, "She's with me! I'm buying." She slid her fake ID across the counter to the cashier. "Mabel's just my... uh... helper?"

"Psychic helper!" Mabel said.

"Psychic helper," Wendy agreed.

"Yeah, I can tell which cards are gonna be winners," Mabel said.

The cashier looked between them, looked at Wendy's ID, and shrugged. "Okay," he said. "You said you wanna get... all of these?"

Wendy went quiet, trying to figure out how much that would cost. "Um."

"No no no!" Mabel waved her hand. "I just wanna see them all. You know. For psychic purposes."

"I can't hand customers cards they haven't paid for. You might start scratchin' 'em."

"That's fine! Can you just... hold all of them up? One at a time? So I can get a really good look at each of them?"

The cashier stared at Mabel, then gave Wendy a weary look.

Wendy smiled nervously. She regretted not asking Mabel what she was planning. "Please? It'd be really cool of you," she said. "Also, I'll leave you a tip." She only had like fifteen dollars. She hoped she could cobble together a decent lunch cheap enough to afford leaving a tip.

The cashier sighed heavily and grabbed the unicorn scratch cards first.

While the cashier showed Mabel every card in all three of her chosen categories one by one, Wendy and Thompson circled the convenience store, prowling for food. Wendy grabbed a cereal bar, a protein bar, a couple flavors of jerky, a bottle of milk—added together that had to be, like, four and a half food groups, right?—and drifted over to the ice cream. "Oh, dude. Check this out, they're selling Summerween ice cream." She pulled out a pint and waved it at Thompson, showing off the jack-o'-melons on the packaging. "I thought Summerween was only celebrated around here. Is Doug & Jimmy's a local brand?" She didn't think she'd ever heard of the brand before. She studied the packaging, but only learned that all proceeds went to an (unnamed) charity.

"I don't recognize it. What flavor is it?" Thompson asked.

"Watermelon sorbet." The only other two Doug & Jimmy's flavors on the shelves were marionberry and huckleberry, which was about as stereotypically Oregonian as you could get. Maybe they were local.

"Aw, I don't like sorbet."

"Hey, Thompson! Buy me this pint, I'll pay you back later."

"What! Why don't you pay for it?"

"I've gotta use the last of my money to tip the cashier." She hoped Mabel had brought her own money to pay for the scratch cards. Wendy doubted she could pester Thompson into that. "C'mon, man, it's only like four bucks. I get my paycheck this afternoon, I'll pay you back." She shook the sorbet in his face. "And it's for charity. Are you gonna notdonate to charity?" She gave him an impish grin.

Thompson sighed, but held out his hand for the ice cream.

There were piles upon piles of unicorn-ed, tiara-ed, beachy scratch cards on the front counter when Wendy and Thompson came up with their purchases. The cashier said to Mabel, "So, that's all of them. Which do you wanna buy?"

"Hmm." Mabel put her hand to her chin, making a show of looking thoughtful. "I think... I'm gonna have to sleep on it and come back in the morning. I'll let you know then."

The cashier stared at Mabel in disbelief. The cashier stared at Wendy in disbelief.

Wendy grimaced. "Sorry, man. She's got this... process?"

"I've got a process," Mabel agreed, nodding firmly.

Wendy shrugged. "Psychics, you know?"

The cashier sighed heavily and shoved the scratch cards aside to scan their food.

Back in the van, Mabel watched as the convenience store disappeared behind them; then, laughing, reached into a hidden pocket in her sweater behind the knit camera, pulled out her cell phone, and stopped the video recording.

Wendy glanced back, did a double take, swallowed her mouthful of jerky, and said—with no small amount of awe—"Did you hide a camera inside a picture of a camera?"

"Yeah!" She pointed at the sunglass lens. "It sees through this like a one-way mirror."

"That's the coolest thing I've ever seen."

"I thought of it myself!" She played back through the video, rewatching to make sure she'd gotten reasonably clear shots of all the scratch cards.

"Why were you recording in there, though?"

"So I can show all the scratch cards to a real psychic!" Mabel stuck her phone in her skirt pocket and beamed at Wendy.

How much did Wendy believe that? Considering this was Gravity Falls, she figured the odds Mabel had turned up a real psychic were about 50/50. "Who is it? Anybody I know?"

Mabel was silent long enough for Wendy to turn and give her a questioning look. Mabel smiled winningly and said, "It's a secret!"

Wendy shrugged like it didn't matter. "All right, sure." There were a lot of secrets in the Mystery Shack these days.

####

"Omigosh are these baby dragons!" Mabel squealed. Several tourists turned to look at her.

Melody laughed. "Yeah! Soos 'hatched' them this morning." Out of sight of the tourists, she winked for Mabel's benefit. "He's gonna set up a terrarium for them this weekend, but for now they live in the shop." She saw Wendy coming and relinquished the cash register to her. "Hey, Wendy. How was lunch?"

"Hey Mel." She took back her seat. "Gas station junk. I found this, though." She held up her pint of half-eaten, half-melted Summerween watermelon sorbet.

"Oh, that's so cute! I've never seen that before, do they do that every year?"

"Dunno, first time I've seen it. I think the brand's new, they only have like three flavors."

"This'll only be my second Summerween," Melody confessed. "Last year, nobody warned me about it. I thought I was going crazy when I saw a bunch of kids running around in Halloween costumes in June. Some guy in a scarecrow costume knocked on my door and tried to scold me for not having any 'Summerween spirit' when I didn't have any candy. He calmed down when I told him his costume was awesome and asked if he'd explain the holiday to me. I think I gave him a bag of sour snakes? It was the only candy I had on hand."

"You really dodged a bullet," Mabel said.

"Oh yeah," Wendy said. "You're from Portland, right?"

"Yeah," Melody sighed. "There's nothing awesome like Summerween there."

Wendy wondered, not for the first time, how Melody could voluntarily move from Portland out to Gravity Falls. The local quirky holidays weren't that alluring. Anyway, everything Wendy had heard about Portland suggested it was the kind of city that would love to adopt something weird like Summerween.

Mabel said, "this is Dipper's and my second year too. Summerween sophomores!"

"Summerween sophomores!" Melody laughed. "This year, I'm going all out. I promised not to spoil the details, but Soos and I are doing a couple's cosplay, it's gonna be great."

"That'll be awesome! Hey, can you mention that in front of Dipper? We haven't made plans yet, and I'm worried he'll try to flake out on doing a twin costume with me this year. Maybe he'll be more interested if he knows some adults are doing it!"

"Ha! Yeah, I'll let him know."

"Oh, hey, Melody," Wendy said. "You're going in the house, right? Could I ask a small favor?" She held out the sorbet. "I know Soos doesn't want me using the fridge but, would you mind sticking this in the freezer just until the end of my shift? I don't wanna stick it in the cooler out here, I'm worried a tourist will walk off with it."

"Oh. Sure, no problem." Melody took the pint. "You leave at like three on Fridays, right?"

"Yeah. Thanks!"

####

Three came and went, and Wendy went as well.

She didn't pick up her sorbet—exactly like she'd planned.

####

(Thanks for reading! Please toss me a comment if you enjoyed, I love hearing y'all's thoughts and I'm excited we're finally getting to Wendy snooping around!)

#wendy corduroy #(for the art)#bill cipher #human bill cipher #(for the fic)#gravity falls #gravity falls fanart #gravity falls fic #my art #my writing #bill goldilocks cipher

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motleycrueobsessed · 4 months

Note

Hello! I don't know if you're still taking requests, but if you are, could you do something with Tommy Lee? Like imagine cockwarming him while he "teaches" you to play drums. Trying to focus on his lesson cuz he promised to reward you if you did good, but he's also making it so hard.

(Sorry to be so vulgar in your asks 🙈)

dont apologize at all ever again ilysm this is such a good idea

Warnings: Tommy being a horny fuck, cockwarming, swearing, smut, praise, AFAB reader, lmk if i missed any!

MDNI

smut below the cut!

———————————————

“There you go, baby girl. You got it.”

Tommy whispered in my ear as his hands held mine, guiding my hands.

“You’re doing great baby.” Tommy placed a kiss on my neck, before going to the next Mötley song he wanted to teach me. He started the motions of Dr. Feelgood. I was completely zoned out, feeling him so deep inside of me was driving me crazy. I knew better than to try and move, though.

He then let go of my hands.

“Play what i just taught you on your own, doll.” Tom kissed down my neck. “I dont.. i dont have it memorized, tom..” i mumbled, still half distracted by the feeling of him inside of me.

He went over the motions again one more time and i tried my hardest to pay attention.

When he finished, he let go of my hands once again. “Play, baby girl.” I nodded, and started to play the drum line to Dr Feelgood. I messed up a few times, slow to hit the kickdrum right or messing up the cymbal hits, but that was expected.

When i finished, he took the sticks from my hands and threw them off somewhere. He wrapped his arms around me and kissed me from my jaw to my shoulder. He pulled me off of him, and picked me up bridal style. He carried me off to the couch nearby, setting me down.

“Bend over, over the arm of the couch baby.”

So i bent over as directed.

“Now i promised you if you did good, i would reward you..”

He thrusted into me, gripping my waist tightly. I let out a pornographic moan, trying to grip at whatever i could to ground myself. Tommy was pretty big, he definitely stretched me out pretty good..

“Fuck.. good girl, there you go.. just like that..”

He started to pound into me, hard and fast.

“Tommy.. o-oh shit!” I buried my head in the couch cushions.

“S’ good for me. S’ pretty for me, allll for me, baby. You look so pretty, ruining yourself on my cock..” One of his hands moved from my waist to my hair, wrapping around it and yanking back roughly.

“T-tommy!” I moaned his name loudly.

“What do you need honey? Tell me.” He whispered in my ear.

“H-harder, harder!” I cried. My hands gripped the couch tightly. “You want it harder? You got it fucking harder, baby.”

He started pounding into me as hard as he could. “Oh, tommy, im gonna- im gonna cum!”

“Hold it baby. Don’t you dare cum before me.” He said in a breathy tone, panting. I squirmed, making pornographic noises.

He soon came deep inside of me, making my back arch due to the feeling of his warm load coating my walls. He lazily thrusted into me until i came not long after him.

He pulled out of me and moved me to sit on the couch, forcing my legs open and eating me out like its his last meal.

His tongue circled my clit, his slim, long fingers going and curling inside of me. My hands buried themselves in his hair, tugging a bit. “Mmmm..” he hummed, the vibrations making me cry out. I came again and he lapped it up.

“Your cum is sweet baby girl.” He whispered in my ear.

He helped me get my clothes back on and his clothes went back on soon too. He carried me like a princess to the bedroom and tossed me onto the bed, quickly following and holding me close.

“You did so good, doll. So good.” He praised.

“I love you, sweet girl..” he mumbled. “I love you too, you horny bastard.

—————————————————

Lowkey sucks i should have just not posted ngl

Would y’all rather have shitty fics or no fics at all?

Petition for me to sit my lazy ass down and write a full length fanfic for once in my life instead of a sad little blurb

Is it obvious im not a drummer?

#fanfic #help #70s #mick mars #motley crue #nikki sixx #tommy lee #vince neil #tommy lee x reader #smut #poorly made

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angeart · 3 months

Text

hhau mimic arc rambles - part IV: the inbetween (hot spring bath)

(~5,5 k words) // other parts & au masterpost here

-- a piece of warmth in a cold wasteland (a piece of hope in a nightmare) --

It takes some time, to slowly patch up the wounds on their souls and bury the incessant fears. Scar and Grian have each other, and they aren’t letting go. Not this time. Not again. Never. (Unless we get our hands on this au which, oh, we have. Funny thing—)

It’s now the midst of winter, and they huddle from shelter to shelter, clothes wet from snow, progress slow as they have to constantly try and cover their marks. The food is scarce, and they’re using every trick Juni taught them in late autumn to stay safe and not starve. (The thought feels bittersweet, but they don’t linger on it.)

And one day, the sun disappears. [This will be the eclipse bonus ramble, dw about it rn <3]

In the aftermath, they’re both feeling destabilised and unsafe. Grian in particular grows to feel like even more of a liability, becoming quiet and withdrawn. Terrified Scar’d leave him, despite feeling like maybe it'd be for the best if he did. (Best for Scar, that is.)

Scar does his best to divert Grian’s attention from bleak thoughts. He talks about hope, and possibilities, and—most importantly—future. He remembers that one time [in a bonus fic we never finished kjxnb bUT ONE DAY] when Grian mentioned wanting a treehouse. Wanting a permanent place. Somewhere to stretch his wings. Somewhere to be.

He tells him, softly, that come spring, once the trees are less barren, they can try building one. They will do it! Scar will build as many as it takes. Each better than the last!

And one day, they’ll get far enough. And they’ll build one that’ll last. And they’ll be able to stretch their wings, free.

Grian isn’t sure how much he believes that. But he wants to. He wants to.

They wander through the lands, seemingly directionless. The winter is harsh. The violet is bright against the whiteness of the snow and the dark brown of the bare trees. Still, with stolen cloaks, they do their best with the circumstances, never feeling warm or relaxed.

That is, until they stumble upon something rare.

They find a cave that is warm and, curious and seeking shelter, they go in.

Inside, they find a large cavern with the ceiling caved in, sunlight pooling from the hole down onto a steaming surface of… a hot spring.

Scar gets immensely excited and, without hesitating, dives right in. The warmth is blissful, melting away all the aches and coaxing frost out of his bones. It’s the best thing he’s felt in a long time.

“I’m never getting out of here. You’re gonna have to drag me out. I am willingly turning myself into a raisin.”

Grian, unlike Scar, hesitates. His wings are still dirtied and full of debris, never preened, never touched. Kept dishevelled and dull to try to hide their desirable sheen. Flaring up with discomfort and aches, muscles tense and never stretched, in an attempt to turn them into something that’d be less of a beacon.

Getting them wet would mean washing off months of that effort. (Months of held-in suffering.)

And Grian wants to sink under the water and feel its warmth, relax into it just like Scar does, but he can’t. He can’t get through that mental block. So he just crouches on the side, sad and torn and wistful.

Scar tries to coax him in by assuring Grian they have enough time to dry them (he doesn’t use the word wings). But drying them isn’t the problem. The problem is making them bright again.

Scar doesn’t quite understand what is holding Grian back, but he tries to offer him ways to sidestep it without tacking a name to it. He holds out his hands and opts for goofiness, asking if Grian is shy, promising he’ll close his eyes, as if it was a simple act of undressing that was the problem. He’s trying to offer a simpler anxiety to latch onto, one more easily dealt with.

And despite the anxiety, Grian laughs a little at his antics. It’s barely a laugh, strained around the edges, but the fondness rings so clear through it.

But Scar’s suggestion doesn’t solve Grian’s problem, and Grian is wholly unwilling to name it and put attention to it—to the hopeless way he feels about the weight settled on his back.

Scar is stubborn and determined, trying to read Grian without pushing too much. He wades to a more shallow part of the pool and softly—and still so very lightheartedly—points out that Grian could take a dip there, feel the warmth, “And only half of you gets turned to raisins.” Endlessly aware of what they’re not saying, words tucked between the lines: Your wings don’t have to get wet.

Grian eyes the side Scar pointed out with enough suspicion, as if he expected the ground there to be playing a trick on him, in fact not solid at all. Slowly, he uncurls and shuffles over to peer at it, taut yet curious, unsure yet hopeful.

It’s timid, at first. The undressing, the reach for water. But as soon as his skin meets the warmth, yearning shoots through him and he can’t stop himself.

The water splashes in his rush to get in, something that delights Scar immeasurably.

And it’s quickly clear the water is only going to incite him to give in further, setting alight a craving for more. To keep sinking, to submerge all of his body, to melt against its warmth and let it make him stop aching.

Unable to resist but still unwilling to get his wings wet, he ends up opting to slump himself over Scar’s shoulders, letting most of him dip into the enciting warmth of the water.

The effect is instant: the warm water eases the hidden pains and tension right off, making Grian huff in relief as his hold on Scar turns lax, trusting Scar to keep him safe. It’s only Grian’s back that keeps some semblance of tension, wings held up above the water line even as the rest of him helplessly melts into it.

And Scar has to ask. Inevitably, the issue cannot be skirted around anymore. “Why don’t you want them wet…?”

Grian’s breath hitches, and just like that, all the tension and anxiety is back. Just like that, he’s pushing away, back upright into the shallow water, and then further, splashing as he goes, until he’s perched at the edge of the pool, safely out of its depths.

Arms wrapped around himself and shivering, Grian tries to breathe through the reminder of everything that’s wrong, everything that he doesn’t want fixed—can’t have fixed—attention pinned to his feathers that he reslots against his spine, dry and as small as possible.

But there's no sidestepping this anymore.

It’s only when he admits, words miserable and broken, muffled into his palms and edging a sob, that washing the wings would turn them into more of a beacon, that Scar truly starts to understand this.

It was always only implied and never spoken—the topic of feathers always carefully avoided to sidestep the panic lurking just beneath those words—now broken and brought up to the surface for the first time since Grian's freak out on that very first day so long ago.

It slots together in Scar’s mind now: It’s not just trauma and fear keeping Grian from allowing anyone (including himself) to touch his wings; it’s his unwillingness to brighten what he believes is to be a spotlight that’s made a home on his back. It explains weeks and weeks of unpreened, tucked back wings hidden uncomfortably under the cloak Scar gave him the day they found each other. What Scar thought was a deep-rooted anxiety born from the time they spent apart actually goes much, much deeper. The fear is a constant in Grian’s mind.

Scar pauses, taking the new pieces to the puzzle he’s been offered and pressing them into place, considering the proper approach. “Grian,” he tries again, voice soft. “One little soak isn’t going to make a difference.” (He wishes it would. He wishes Grian would wash them out properly, let them shine like they did before. He’d fight off the whole server if he had to in order to see that once more.)

Something desperate in Grian is latching onto Scar’s words. He’s begging himself to listen, to give in, to let go, to succumb. He sniffles, dropping his hands a little bit, looking over at Scar, silent plea written into his eyes. Please. Please please please.

He wants Scar to win him over. To convince him. To yank this tight knot of anxiety and let him breathe.

With a sigh, Scar continues. “We don’t have to wash them, just…” He hates going along with any part of this, but he’s not about to change Grian’s mind so easily. He has to bargain. “... One hour. One hour where you don’t worry so dang much. Just relax, forget everything else. Let me—” He doubts his word choice for a moment, but commits to it, considering them appropriate. “Let me watch your back.”

There’s a pause. And then, from his curled-up position, Grian asks: “One hour?” It’s small, a word just shy of crumbling to dust. He wants this. He needs this. He needs Scar to sway him here. But he can’t just give in. So he asks for more. He asks Scar to promise that this won’t cause anything bad.

"Nothing bad," Scar assures immediately, even if he doesn't truly have the power to promise that. He'll make it true. He's determined to. "I'll make sure of it. And you just relax."

The words bounce around in Grian’s head.

Nothing bad. I’ll make sure of it.

He sniffles, wrangling the ever-present constraints of anxiety, and then, ever so slowly, he uncurls. His hands drop from his face and his glistening eyes find Scar’s, locking onto them as if Scar was his life raft. “Okay.”

He isn’t sure he knows how to relax, not where his wings are concerned, but he’s been tense and scared for so long, he’s so tired, so greedy for the idea of it. And if Scar can somehow will it into existence, Grian will do his best to give himself over to him.

It’s slow. Every move hesitant and unsure, every Scar’s word soft and reassuring. He tells Grian it’s just the two of them here. He leads him, step by timid step.

Grian ends up draped over him again, arms wrapped around Scar's shoulders, trying to stifle his fears into his hold of him as they tentatively make progress into the warmth that begs Grian to surrender completely.

Grian’s coherency is slipping from his grasp as the warm water and the security of Scar’s presence take over. He hasn’t allowed himself to relax in so impossibly long, only ever forced by the circumstances. (Feeling faint, being wounded, dizziness pulling him to his knees—) This is different. This is so very different, and he finds himself simultaneously nuzzling against Scar and entirely letting go, his grip growing weak as Scar holds him with his back above water.

Grian’s wings falter and droop the littlest bit. He barely notices it. They’re hovering so, so very close above the waterline.

He hums, and they dip further, and—

He twitches, startled at the sensation of water against his feathers. Running on nothing but well-trained instinct, his wings flap, frantically splashing water.

Scar pulls Grian a little closer, keeping his hands firm and tight so he doesn’t drop him altogether. “Hey, hey, hey it’s okay. I’ve still got you.” He slides one leg out a little wider to maintain balance, continuing to mumble soft shushes. “The water won’t hurt ya, G.”

Grian pulls himself tight against Scar, his wing movements calming somewhat at Scar’s reassurance. They’re left treacherously hovering over the water again, unsure, as Grian buries his face in Scar’s neck, eyes tightly shut. He’s tense again, back at square one, and even the warmth of the water isn’t working enough to lull him out of it.

But Scar says the water won’t hurt him.

He knows that, right? He’s— The water won’t hurt him, it’s just the consequences he’s meant to be afraid of. But Scar already promised those will be okay.

Grian knows Scar doesn’t have the power to promise that.

Still, he tries to wrangle both the rational and irrational parts of his fear.

He breathes heavily, pressed close to Scar, and he whimpers a quiet, very unbrave sounding word: “Down?”

“Yeah?” Scar asks, a little unsure. “Do you— want me to let you down?” He doesn’t move his hands yet.

Feeling the steadiness of Scar's hands, Grian is sure that there won't be anything unexpected; not unless he agrees, nods, gives consent. But his head is so messy, not knowing how to communicate, and he's not sure he won't misstep.

"The wings?" Grian asks, and it's not much more coherent than the original question.

“The—“ Scar tuts his tongue, remembering to take the time to think. He glances over at Grian’s wings, something he very purposely tries not to do typically, but with Grian’s head tucked against his collarbone, he looks them over, curious. “Yeah, yes— you can let them down, G.” A small reassuring press of his fingertips. “Really.”

Grian takes a breath at the encouragement; it's damp and hot, water and scar's skin heating him up, both working on stealing all the tension out of him.

Gingerly and with a tinge of fearfullness, grian relents.

He lets his wings drop.

Tentatively, the feathers meet water. Calmer, this time. Expecting it.

Grian’s hold on Scar doesn't exactly tense up, but his fingers curl, feebly looking for a tidbit of purchase, something to hold onto as his wings spread and sprawl, rippling the water, floating atop it, and— And it's so warm and it feels so good to stretch them, to let them be without force and without pressure and—

There's a half-sob, something small and all too relaxed and relieved, as looseness floods through Grian. His fingers uncurl and he sags further against Scar, whimpering quietly without any real distress.

Scar can’t help the bright, genuine grin that spreads across his face at this success, even despite the small sobbing sounds—because he knows, he knows it’s from overwhelming relief. He had half a mind to cry when he first stepped foot in the water, so he can only imagine how Grian feels right now. “Shhh, good, good,” Scar coos, pressing a soft kiss into Grian’s hair. “Still got you.”

Grian makes a jumble of incoherent sounds at Scar's praise, melting further into the warmth. His eyes are closed and his muscles loosen bit by bit, aches stolen from them. He's not working to support any of his weight anymore, surrendering it all to Scar and to the water. He doesn't even register his wings fully; they float, and it makes them feel numb and nonexistent in the best of ways.

Loose feathers and dirt drift across the surface, the spot near Grian growing murkier.

“Nice, isn’t it?” Scar whispers, not wanting to disturb Grian’s moment of bliss here. He eyes the spot where the water darkens from the dirt and debris coming free from Grian’s wings, trying not to let it affect his mood, tug at his heart.

He wishes he could rake his fingers through the feathers and dislodge all the uncomfortable things that poke and prod at Grian on a daily basis. We wants to hold him closer and take care of him, wash all the troubles away, but—

Baby steps, he reminds himself.

Grian's mind is hazy, all of him melting into the warmth bit by bit. (He doesn't remember the last time he was warm.) He feels engulfed and cradled, held and supported, and it makes him want to drift off. He's melting further into it, eyes closed and mind pleasantly dazed. He thinks he might just stay here forever. (The insides of his wings are warm warm warm; the water gently bobs them, the muscles loosening after months of being stiff and taut.)

It reminds Grian of what it feels like to be comfortable. (He isn't sure he can quite grasp it; the feeling seems too big for his comprehension.) He lets out a long, reverberating hum, almost purr-like, sinking further into the water. His eyes are still closed. He's secure in the knowledge that Scar's still here, he's got him. everything is okay.

Everything is more than okay.

"'m gonna live like a raisin," he says as a vague threat, or a promise, or— or something. Something mildly delirious. He's never getting out of this lake. It's too nice. He's going to stay here and submerge himself in bliss and escapism.

“Yes!” Scar croaks out amidst some airy laughter. “Join me in the raisin life, Grian!”

Scar's laughter echoes around Grian, setting bright, joyful sparks behind grian's ribcage. He could listen to that sound forever.

While keeping his arms in place, supporting Grian so that he doesn’t sink entirely, Scar ducks his face back underwater and blows some bubbles, loving the feeling of having semi-clean skin for the first time in far too long.

Grian hears the bubbles. Curiosity gets him to crack one eye open, only to see it's just Scar being silly. Unbridled, a laughter spills from him and— He's laughed before, sure. Here and there, they’ve had their moments. But never before has his laughter felt so light in this world. Unburdened.

Scar’s ears flick attentively and he pokes his head back out to share a grin— practically beaming at Grian due to the delightful sound. It’s a genuine Grian giggle and Scar is loving it. It rings like victory, dancing across the air. Scar feels like he’s won a tiny battle. (And it’s a much-needed win at that.)

“Seriously,” Scar says, smile still pressing at the edges of his cheeks. “Dunk your head in— it feels amazing.”

The idea doesn't seem as daunting as before. Encouraged by Scar's delighted grin, Grian can't help but wish to oblige.

His wings flutter a little, and then he's tilting himself, taking a breath. No more warning is given before he fully submerges his head.

The water rushes around him, muffling the world instantly. It's warm all around him.

Just like Scar before, Grian also brings his arms to rub at his hair, reveling in the feeling until he needs to come up for air. He pushes his now-wet hair out of his face and blinks, before he settles with twinkling eyes set on scar, a wild grin on his lips. "I did it!" And he finds that he wants to do it again.

“Isn’t our hair disgusting?” Scar says, laughing and smiling like that’s somehow a good thing.

"It’s sooo gross," Grian agrees with a laugh. He drifts closer, reaching out to run his fingers into Scar's wet hair and rub at his scalp, wanting him to feel nice.

Scar makes an approving, happy hum and leans into the touch. “And you’d touch the gross hair? Wow, you must like me or something. How embarrassing,” Scar croons, grinning with all his teeth as he pesters Grian.

A growling noise rolls out of grian, but it sounds wrong, soft and unthreatening. He grins right back, and he moves closer, gaze flicking to Scar's lips. "Yeah. I guess I do like you. Or something." And then he presses on Scar, pouncing to use his own weight to push Scar under water. "But you should really wash them some more," he notes playfully with a laugh.

Scar barks out a half-yelp half-laugh as he’s submerged, bubbles rising to the surface until the noise escapes the watery prison when he comes back up. ”Wow,” Scar grumbles, absolutely no bite to his bark. “And here I was being so nice.”

Completely unphased by Scar's grumble, Grian cackles. And then he leans forward, hands settling on the sides of Scar's jaw as both of them drip water.

Grian's eyes close and he kisses Scar.

“Oh,” Scar’s mouth barely forms the words before he’s pressing closer, greedily kissing back. There’s a bit of whiplash from going from being dunked under to being kissed, but it’s a pleasant sort of ride, the kind of dizzying back and forth he would have always expected from Grian. Part of the reason he was always so drawn in.

Bouncing lightly in the water, Grian breaks the kiss only to press a laugh against the corner of Scar's mouth. He's holding onto him, fingers finding their way back into Scar's wet hair. His feathers trail ripples behind him. "Do you want to help me wash my hair?" he ends up asking, sounding so very hopeful and impulsive, eyes alight as he peers up to meet Scar's gaze.

“Yes!” Scar exclaims, instant. Because he really does want to.

Grian's expression brightens and softens simultaneously at Scar's quick agreement. Eager excitement settles abuzz under his skin, oddly fitting alongside the newfound looseness of his muscles.

Scar removes one of his supporting hands first, testing if Grian isn’t still melting into the water too much to handle it without them.

Grian shifts to readjust, to carry his own weight and stay floating. He gives Scar a small nod. "Floating raisin-in-training," he reassures, wildness tipping into an almost timid grin.

Scar snickers, highly amused by the continued bit. "I'm very impressed with the raisin's progress," he teases as he removes his other hand, allowing Grian to wade freely. "I wish we had soap. I still don't understand how to make soap." It's a mournful statement, but Scar manages to keep his tone light, as if it's a joke and not a genuine problem. He opens both palms and wiggles his fingers in a goofy invitation, letting Grian lead the way on how he wants to do this.

Grian doesn't, in fact, know how to do this. He just knows he wants Scar's fingers rub at his scalp and brush through his hair and he wants it all to be nice and good. (He wonders if his hair will be fluffy when it dries. Fluffy hair and somewhat clean skin. A luxury.) (He wonders how will Scar look at him, then.) "Should I... turn my back to you?" he wonders.

But turning his back carries many things with it. (Namely his wings.)

Scar’s eyes flick to the sprawled out feathers—a lightning-fast glance, trying not to be noticed—before he hums in thought. He doesn’t want Grian to have to reel his wings back in. He likes that Grian is finally relaxing them like this, having them splayed out without care.

So instead, he tries to say that this is good. That he likes facing Grian and looking at him. He steals a kiss, quick and gentle, drawing Grian’s attention away from any implications turning around might have.

Grian lets Scar's affection easily distract him; for once, he's not hyper-aware and hyper-vigilant about his wings, and so the warning thought dissipates before it even has a chance to form properly, everything in him instead paying attention to Scar's adoration and the promise of getting his hair washed. He giggles quietly into the kiss at Scar's exclamations. "Alright. All yours."

Scar’s heart swells at all yours, the words satisfying something small yet primal deep inside his chest.

But as it turns out, Grian floating in the water on his belly really isn’t a position suitable for hair washing. They fumble, Scar trying to throw out some pointless, dead-end suggestions, staying lighthearted even as it’s becoming clear that there’s no way around this.

Grian hums, glancing at his wings—the top feathers are still dry, as his wings float the inner-side down. The seeping warmth from the water keeps them relaxed and feeling good, and Grian doesn't even realise he's considering them without the usually instant flare up of anxiety.

"Let me try something," he murmurs, an edge of experimental pensiveness to his tone. He pushes himself away from Scar, using him solely for momentum, so he wouldn't have to wade to get more space. He spins, water rippling, feathers gliding across it.

He doesn't make enough space. His primaries almost brush against Scar.

Scar flinches back to avoid the wings, shocked by the casual nature in which Grian is currently treating them. He’s relieved, certainly, but slightly nervous as well. “You better not be trying to escape, you have a good fifty-some minutes of relaxation left, mister.”

Grian glances over his shoulder, chuckling at him, but doesn't deign to answer. He's climbing to the shallower part again; his wings are heavy, dragging him down as he fights them and flaps them around, sending droplets through the air. He curls them, bringing them forward, and with a squinted focus, slowly lowers them back down.

The water turns murky again in an instant, as the backs of grian's wings hit water. He almost slips off the perch of the platform as a wave of weakness rushes through him at how good the warm water feels on those spots. His eyes flutter shut without him intending for it, and a groan leaves his throat.

And then he's slipping off the edge back into the depths, this time purposefully. his wings are spread around him, messy and wet and wide, and—

He semi-floats on his back, his hair now dipped in water. It feels so insanely relaxing—a word he was forgetting even exists; he lets out a dazed hum, eyes still closed, temporarily forgetting his mission is to get back to scar.

Scar chuckles quietly to himself, trying to shield the sound with the back of his hand. He’s able to ignore the distress the muddied water caused him last time, too enthralled by the wide span of Grian’s wings, which he hasn’t seen in so long.

Even dirtied and drenched in water, they’re beautiful.

“Should I leave you alone with the water for a bit—?” Scar teases after another moment of admiring Grian. “Would hate to interrupt.”

Despite saying that, his hands itch to touch. They twitch and he hides them underwater, remaining patient.

"Mmmm." Grian lets the water gently push him around, and he keeps his eyes closed for a while, staying silent after Scar's question. But then he remembers: he's going to get his hair washed. Scar's fingers are going to press and rub against his scalp and—

"Please do interrupt," he begs, dark eyes dazedly finding Scar.

“If you insist,” Scar says like he’s not equally as antsy. He approaches with caution, careful to wade between any scattered feathers, then wiggles his fingers on either side of Grian’s head. “Any requests? Gentle? Deep tissue massage? Kisses or no kisses?” He hovers over Grian’s head as he asks, grinning.

Grian peers up at Scar, upside-down, and even though he appreciates Scar’s silliness and him offering choices, decision-making feels a bit overwhelming right now.

And yet as soon as he catches sight of Scar, he can’t help but tilt his head more, desiring more closeness. His hair submerges, obliging towards the task at hand, but there’s far more than that in the simple gesture: Grian’s throat is bare (so is the rest of him, to be fair) (exposed wings included), and there’s something eager about the way his lips fall slightly apart. “Kisses. Definitely kisses.”

Without hesitation, Scar leans down, smiling. “Oh excellent, that was my recommendation anyway!” He plants a kiss on Grian’s forehead to start, just a taste of what he’s offering, then threads his fingers into Grian’s flowing hair underwater, keeping his touch tentative for the time being.

Grian hums, both at the kiss and at the touch, a sound that reverbs in his throat. His wings spread a little more. He’s feeling pleasant and pleased, edging that state of melting into everything.

Scar starts by running his fingers through Grian’s hair, mapping out the territory and smoothing out his locks to make it easier for the proper cleaning.

Helpless to stop it, Grian finds his eyes falling shut again. Everything's so pleasant and lulling, he can almost imagine falling asleep here. (He's certainly tired enough for it, the dark bruising under his eyes speaking volumes about that.) He wants Scar to keep touching him, to keep brushing his fingers through his hair, to— to be here, in this, with him.

“Good?” Scar checks even though he knows the answer, his fingers still gentle; he wants to hear Grian say it, confirm that this is happening, that this moment is real amidst this server of hostility and cruelty.

“Good,” Grian purrs mindlessly.

Scar slowly adds more pressure, lightly scratching at Grian's scalp for maximum effect, trying to provide as much relief as he can.

Grian lets out little noises—sleep-laced, groggy little things—as he melts against every Scar's touch. He wants to tell him how really, really good it feels, but he can't find coherent enough words, nor make his vocal cords work. He just floats, in more ways than one. "'m sleep," he murmurs, as a warning.

He wants to look up at Scar, but his eyelids are heavy, his body gently bobbing in water that keeps him warm and relaxed. Scar continues effortlessly lacing his fingers through curls and working small bundles of hair through his fingertips to loosen any pesky dirt that's made home there, finding almost as much pleasure in this little routine as Grian does.

"Gosh, making it my job to keep you from drowning?" Scar scolds lightheartedly with absolutely no disdain. Truthfully, the wings might be working as enough of a feather floatie for Grian anyway, but Scar doesn't mind making up for where they slack.

"Mmmmhm," Grian confirms. His muscles are so lax. He forgot this was even possible. He hasn't felt pleasantly sleepy in so long—so many horrible dreams and endless fears and never-ending tension. This hot spring is tempting him to succumb to everything it offers, and Scar's hands are breaking the last of his resistance. "Won't let me..." he trails off, meaning to say won't let me drown. The sentense stays broken, sinking out of Grian's reach. "Trust," he murmurs, barely audible, word slurred with sleep.

Scar's about to ask who won't let him sleep, but understands that's not what's being said after he continues listening. He smiles. "Of course not," he confirms, lightly scratching behind Grian's earwings, a spot he himself took great relief from.

The scratch behind Grian's earwings sends something in him skittering and haywire in the best of ways. He chirps through the haze of sleep, unable to catch himself. His earwings flutter against the water, sending a small spray of droplets around them, but they settle back down quickly enough, limp like the rest of him. A drawn-out coo is coaxed from Grian's throat as he blindly tilts his head further into it, chasing the pleasant touch.

There's no tension to Grian’s expression, no fear marring the space between his brows.

It feels like a dream, if this world ever knew such a thing as good dreams.

Scar chews at his lip, swallowing down all the comments we wants to make about how adorable Grian is all relaxed and bird-brained. He's not so sure Grian is sleepy enough to resist groaning and quipping back at that, so he resists, wanting him to continue drifting.

He directs his fingertips over Grian's temple and to the top of his forehead, grazing his nails over the skin as gently as he can and massaging into the base of his hair. And he lingers. Keeps rubbing circles and tracing across Grian's hairline, taking his fine time as if he intended to clean each individual strand.

The way Scar is touching him would make Grian go positively insane if it wouldn't turn him into an incoherent puddle first. He hums, quiet, the sound barely there, edging dreamy delirium under Scar's attentive guidance.

He really does feel himself drifting, sleep latching on and consciousness waning. The combination of stacked-up tiredness and the wholly complete relaxation are taking him over and, before he even fully realises what's happening, he's completely limp, breath evening out.

He dips a little in the water, but stays mostly afloat anyway. Scar preemptively lifts one knee to catch Grian if his body starts to dip too far underwater, but he seems steady enough for the time being.

Content with his successful attempt to get Grian to relax, Scar goes for softer motions, just enough to keep the flow of pleasant sensations going without doing anything that could wake his sleeping bird.

After a minute or so, Scar sneaks a proper glance at Grian’s splayed out wings, how they fill the water around them with dirt and smaller pieces of debris. He has to resist plucking a twig from a close-by cluster of feathers, praying the water will do it for him. He settles for what he can do for now, not willing to abuse the trust Grian is offering him here by pushing his luck.

He hums a soothing, soft melody as he works, filling the space as he gets Grian’s hair clean, hoping to keep the avian’s sleep relaxed and nice. Without nightmares, for once. Warm and safe and spoiled.

Such strange concept for this world.

And yet even those things can exist here.

Scar watches his sleeping bird and he thinks that maybe there’s hope for them still after all.

34 notes · View notes

remwrites · 2 years

Note

*slides into your inbox with a rose between my teeth* hii. i'm asking you to consider: scarian, but one of them is some kind of a fucked up creature and the other is Just Some Guy learning many new things about themselves (*cough*monsterfucker*coughcough*). can be either people-eating vex Scar or biblically accurate Grian, both are fun in their own ways :3c

(don't feel obliged to write anything if it's not your thing, im just sharing my brainworms with u)

tripped and fell and wrote 3.5k. and there's probably gonna be more. whoops.

welcome to rem and szad's monsterfucker au. i told myself the whole time i was writing this that it wasn't going to be called that. here we are.

[]

Grian was never great at running.

He didn't have any shoes. His feet slipped, hands scraping the ground while his heart punched his chest in earnest. He just needed to be fast enough to get away, it didn't matter where, everywhere was better than here. He couldn't take the Watchers anymore, he couldn't take--

The heavy shackle on his ankle suddenly yanked taunt, and it was too late. He was pinned, dragged, and despite his struggles and screams brought back into the very place he was trying to escape.

"Traitors don’t get to leave.” The Watcher holding him said, serene.

Grian spit in their face.

It didn't seem to even faze them. “We tried so hard to rehabilitate you.”

Grian recognized where they were going and his heart dropped like a dead weight. Instead of continuing to struggle, he clamped his mouth shut and breathed heavily through his nose. If he screamed the whole way down, the monster would know he was coming.

This seemed to amuse the Watcher, who pulled Grian by his bound wrists and brought him to the pit. It was covered in cross-hatched metal, a small latch to drop the food down.

Grian was the food.

"Please." Grian said, a terrified whisper. "Don't."

"Will you cooperate now?"

“No.”

“Then you are no use to us.”

Fear pounded louder than his heart and against all sense he tried to flee one last time. Only to be wrenched immediately when the Watcher yanked the chain on his ankle, swinging him down with a stomach-swoop of momentum into the pit.

Grian landed face first into the dirt, teeth splitting his lip. A broken cry, curling around his bound hands that cut into his stomach. The latch shut with a resounding clang of metal, echoing in a haunting repetition. The Watcher mercilessly strode away and left Grian to his fate.

Silence. All Grian could hear was the pounding of his own heart and his ragged breath. Somewhere within the dark was the Vex. They kept him to dispose of any bodies, but there hadn't been any for a while. Here was his next meal, dribbling blood into the dirt.

Grian was so fucked. He pushed up on his aching hands, raising his head. No visible signs. Just dirt and the geometric squares cut from the only light source above. He dragged himself to the nearest wall, for the fallacy of protection, pulling his knees up and burying his face in his knees and waited for death.

Shivering. Quiet. Death didn't come. The pain and ache of leftover adrenaline. Grian raised his head, looking into the darkness of the pit. There was nothing.

He trembled, struggling for air, and his heart skipped a beat, then redoubled in fervour. On the opposite side of the pit, in the shroud of darkness, a pair of white eyes stared at him.

"I'm sorry to disturb you." Grian said, delirious, terrified. "Please don't eat me. I promise I'm not tasty."

A piercing white stare, not even so much as a blink. The hairs on the back of Grian's neck stood up.

"I'll just stay over here, and you'll stay over there, and we won't bother each other. Okay?" Grian said, slow, voice fabricating calm.

The eerie glowing eyes didn't move.

"Great." Grian hid his face back in his knees.

The silence almost seemed to reverberate around him, motionless airwaves prickling and pushing against his skin. There was a flood of blood down his chin from his lip, stinging with the dirt from his fall. Even if Grian wanted to do something about it, his hands were bound and there was a fucking Vex watching him from the other side of the pit.

The reminder restarted his panic. Grian looked up again and the eyes were gone. That was somehow worse. He frantically looked around but didn't see anything.

"Where did you go?" Grian put a voice to his panic, because he talked when he was nervous. It was a terrible habit and it was imminently going to get him killed.

Then white eyes appeared, directly across from him in the darkness. Grian swallowed a cry, and said, "Hey, you're not going to eat me, right?"

The heavy silence remained. Then, slow and purposeful, the white eyes blinked.

Grian had never heard the Watchers refer to the Vex as anything but a mindless monster. However, Grian found that he did not agree with them on most things. Maybe this was just another thing.

"They suck, huh?" Grian said, bravely, pointed up through the metal grate. "They treated me like shit too. I'm sorry they've locked you in this pit, it's not very nice."

The white eyes didn't blink again. But Grian was on a roll, and he pretty much always figured he'd die running his mouth anyway.

He continued, "I'm not gonna tell you what to do, but they want you to kill me. So if you hate them like I do, I'd suggest not killing me. Then maybe we can see if there's a way to break out of here instead. Sound like a plan?"

That horrible, compressing silence. Grian bore it with as much grace as he could muster, pretending to be a lot more confident than he was. After an eon, the white eyes blinked again.

"Brilliant." Grian smiled, wobbly. "My name's Grian, what's yours?"

The white eyes vanished. Grian's heart dropped, but he didn't react, licking his lips and tasting pennies. Feeling cold from the drain of adrenaline, heart stuck in an uneven cadence.

A whisper beside him. Grian jumped, despite trying to keep his cool, and almost fell over in surprise.

The Vex was big. He was almost spectral, translucent, an ephemeral electric blue except for his white eyes, a heavy collar around his neck, and off-coloured scars intersecting over his form. His shape was mostly vague, with claws sharp like knives and more teeth than a mouth should fit.

"Hello." Grian said, tight, terror woven into his bones. "You're awfully close. I like my personal space."

The Vex hovered a moment, then moved back just a touch.

Hope sparked in Grian's chest. That meant something. He said, "Thank you, I appreciate it."

The Vex raised a giant hand and pointed to a large noticeable scar on his own face.

Grian stared at him, the point of his claw, mind not quite keeping up. He was still focused on the 'not being eaten' thing.

Then the Vex mouthed a word. No sound, but the faint attempt of showing a spectral tongue on the roof of his mouth. It could've been 'name'. Then he pointed to the scar again.

Everything about the situation became rapidly very different than what Grian had been thinking. He was not dealing with a mindless monster. He was dealing with someone who had a name, and that name was Scar.

"Your name is Scar." Grian said, with a touch of wonder.

Both white eyes shut. It took Grian a moment to realize the Vex was attempting a smile.

"Hello Scar." Grian said. "You understand me?"

A careful nod. Keeping a safe distance away.

"Can you speak?"

Scar shook his head. Those huge claws touched the collar around his throat.

"Oh no, that's awful." Grian leaned forward on his bound hands to look closer in the darkness. "What have they done to you?"

A visible hesitation, then that razor sharp claw reached towards him, half-curled, and pointed at Grian lip.

"Oh." Grian tried to wipe away the blood on his chin, using his wrist since his hands were still bound. "I pissed them off. I was trying to get away. Didn't work, obviously."

The Vex made a breathy noise and turned away. He floated along, disappearing into the darkness, but a moment later the white eyes flashed in waiting. That same breathy noise, like a summon.

Grian figured he had little to lose at this point. He struggled to his feet, the chain on his ankle dragging on the ground as he limped forward. He followed the Vex into the darkness, where his eyes slowly adjusted to the lack of light. In the corner the pit was more like a cave, with a running source of water pooling and draining out into the small cracks in the rock.

But it was running water. Grian knelt beside it and drank, throat dry and coated in copper. Then he tried to wash off all the blood from his face and clean his lip. It hurt like hell, stinging, and his bound hands didn't make it easy.

He had an audience of one, the two pricks of white watching him. He tried to shake his self-consciousness, reminding himself over and over that he had to stay calm. He had been given no reason to be afraid.

Scar came closer, and it was hard to stand beside the Vex because his presence was much larger, even when not solid. Grian felt his breath clog his throat, the ephemeral shape of a hand reaching towards his.

"What's up?" Grian asked, as the claws touched his wrist, pulling just a little. "Oh, okay."

He held his bound wrists out. Scar barely twitched his sharp claw and the ropes shredded, the bits falling to the floor.

Grian rubbed his red-ringed skin and looked at the destroyed rope, a little ill and intimidated. The Vex was that powerful, claws that sharp.

"Thank you." Grian said, carefully. "Do you want me to see if I can get your collar off?"

Scar didn't reply, but didn't move away either. Grian carefully reached up to pull on the metal, finding no visible seam. He frowned and muttered, "They must've got it on somehow."

Scar made a motion, like turning a key in a lock. Grian found the keyhole on the back of his neck and sighed.

"Sorry, I can't be more help." Grian said. "If only I had tools. I'm a great lockpick."

A low sound that Grian couldn't determine was good or bad. He stepped back from his inspection of the collar and gave Scar space, instead kneeling to inspect the chain around his own ankle. There was little they could do for that either, and Grian suspected it had tracking magic imbued in it -- the only reason he could think that they caught him leaving so quickly. If they were to attempt an escape a second time, he'd need it off first, just like they needed Scar's collar off.

"Let me think." Grian announced, and began to pace. He inspected the corners of the pit, looking at the narrow corners, the only exit being the overhead heavy metal grate. He stood underneath and stared up, heart drumming his carotid artery as he considered how fucking ridiculous the situation was. Then he walked to the other side, where Scar had been watching him initially. There was a corner, shadowed in darkness. And the dirt and rock were covered in discarded clothes -- blood stained and ripped.

Grian knew that they were from bodies Scar would've consumed and he chose to ignore that for his own sanity at the moment. Since it was the only other thing inside the pit, he began to rifle through the nest, picking up the socks and jackets to see if they had anything helpful in the pockets.

Scar appeared at his side again, a small growl.

Grian had a death wish, apparently. He held both hands up and said, "Sorry, should've asked before I just started going through your stuff. I'm just looking for anything that can help us escape. I want both of us to get out of here, okay?"

The sharpness in the white eyes backed off a little. Scar turned his head away, huffing.

"I appreciate it." Grian told him. Then returned to his task.

There was nothing useful in the pockets, they were mostly shredded beyond usefulness. He almost gave up before he found a jacket that had its sleeve held together by pins.

"Perfect." Grian breathed, a light of hope in his chest.

Grian separated the pins and kinked the metal into a more useful shape. He stuck a couple extras in his mouth and said around them, "I can try and get that off for you."

Scar didn't move. Grian climbed out of the nest and approached, the chain on his ankle dragging as he moved.

"I'm not sure if it'll work." Grian told him, holding up the pins, spitting the rest from his mouth into his hand to show. "But I'm reasonably confident I can try. Okay?"

White eyes stared. Grian had no idea what the Vex was thinking -- if this would be the moment he'd decide to turn on him, or if it was just a lack of trust. That was understandable, he didn't know Grian.

But he could pick a lock better than anyone. He waved the pins, raising an eyebrow, offering. Scar finally turned around and let Grian access the back of his collar.

It wasn't an easy lock. It was tiny, and Scar was tall so he had to reach up to work on it.

"Could you get lower for me?" Grian said, when he couldn't get the angle he needed.

Scar cast a look at him over his shoulder, glowing white, a long contemplative pause. Then his spectral figure knelt on the floor.

It was very helpful. Grian had a much better approach to the lock, and with three different pins jabbed into the collar as he worked the tumblers, he managed to pick it open. There was a hissed release, the metal thudding against the dirt.

"Yes!" Grian cheered, stomach flipping with success. He said, "Is that better?"

The Vex was still kneeling. A long, clawed finger reached out to touch the collar split on the floor. A breathy sound, almost like a laugh. Then the light surrounding him faded, and his figure solidified.

Grian's throat caught in surprise, taking a step back. The shaped glow softened into tattered wings on his back, becoming a tall man with bluish grey skin and hair. Eyes still snow-white, but now fanned with lashes and eye crinkles. Pointed ears, teeth still sharp, nails pointed to claws, but otherwise Scar had a real form, one might mistake for a person if you were dumb enough to ignore all the signs that he was incredibly dangerous.

Still on his knees, Scar raised his chin to Grian and said in a very unused rasp, "Thank you."

"You're welcome." Grian replied, dumbfounded. He hadn't been expecting that. He watched the long whip tail flicker. The same scars crossing his face in the spectral form carried over to the flesh one.

"You should get that off too." Scar said, pointing to the shackle on Grian's ankle.

"Yeah, right. Of course." Grian gathered up all the pins he'd dropped, forgetting entirely that Scar wasn't the only one trapped. "You were stuck like that?"

"Mhm." Scar stood, stretching with a long pull, like a very big dangerous cat. The tattered wings expanded to their full wingspan and it just about took Grian's breath away.

"How long?" He asked, almost afraid of the answer.

"Longer than I'd like to admit." Scar said, and turned to give Grian a smile with his many teeth. "You're an angel."

"Pleasure." Grian replied, throat dry. Oh no, he had a deathly good charm. He ducked his reddening face to focus on trying to accomplish the same feat for himself.

Scar stalked the length of the pit while Grian worked. He stood underneath the grate and stared up into the light, a frown on his face, tail flicking irritably behind him.

"Are they going to come back for you?" Scar asked.

"They were hoping you'd kill me." Grian reminded him.

"They usually just drop dead bodies in here. And I eat them because it's not like they're getting any deader. But I wasn't going to attack you if you weren't a threat." Scar told him, cavalier.

"They think you're a monster so they will assume I'm dead."

"I am a monster." Scar smiled, all his horrible teeth on display. "But not the kind they want. What did they do to you?"

Grian thought about the cell he'd been locked in, the problems he'd caused himself, the disciplines and punishments and gaslighting over long periods. The chilled smiles and bruises around his wrist. He said, "What didn't they do?"

"I'll kill them for you." Scar offered.

Grian dropped the pin he was trying to hold. He said, "I don't need you to do that. I just want to get out of here."

"We can do that." Scar said.

It was stupid, but Grian's hands were shaking and he couldn't manage to get his own shackle off. He exhaled, mind running a mile ahead of him, and placed the pins on the floor for a minute to calm down.

"Am I scaring you?" Scar asked.

"No. Yes. I'm just having a very long day." Grian rubbed his bruised wrists, feeling every beat of his heart throughout his whole body, but especially his split lip. It was bleeding again, sluggish and slow, and he kept sucking the swollen thing and making it worse.

"Grian, you said your name was?" Scar stopped roving the length of the pit and came to sit beside him. Legs tucked underneath him. He had an old dusty coat and tight pants but no shirt and no shoes. Even with the bluish grey hue, he had a very nice chest. It was currently eye level and Grian made an effort to lift his chin and look Scar in the eye. A ringed white iris pinned back at him, searching his face.

Grian swallowed, "Yeah. Was I right? Scar?"

"That's me." Scar smiled, a little crooked, a peak of fangs, and it was hopelessly endearing.

Grian felt his heart beat harder, and this time the fear entangled with something else incredibly complicated. His mouth was dry. His sense was left somewhere else.

"How'd you end up here?" Scar inquired, picking up the pins off the floor and offering them to Grian, urging him to continue trying to free himself.

Trembling fingers took the pins and he ducked over his leg as he worked, hair covering his face. He said, annoyed, "They took me from my home. I don't know how long ago it was now. They were trying to get me to become one of them. It didn't take. What about you?"

"Wrong place, wrong time, I guess. I was overconfident that I couldn't be caught. They had more power than I considered." Scar said, shooting an annoyed look at the collar discarded on the ground.

"They're annoyingly resourceful." Grian agreed. The pin he was working with broke and he swore. He took a minute to dislodge the broken piece and manipulate a new pin into the right shape. Scar watched him work, eyes tracking, contemplative. Then Grian managed to get that satisfying click and eagerly shook the shackle off.

"But you are more resourceful than them." Scar praised.

Grian helplessly flashed a smile, shaky, and bent over his knee to breathe. He said, "Can I just have a bit to rest before we go? I'm so tired."

Scar shrugged, tattered wings flexing behind his shoulders. "Won't make a difference either way. They think you're dead and they don't visit me."

Grian nodded dazedly and moved to sit in the horrible nest of dead people's clothes, back against the wall and trying to breathe. He hadn't realized how much a weight the shackle was until it was gone, the binding magic disappearing into the air. They couldn't track him anymore. They couldn't contain Scar. A couple metal pins from the people the Watcher's had killed would be the same thing that freed them.

Rest wouldn't be easy with all the jittering adrenaline. He eyed the grate, with the light going pale with the growing night. He said, "They don't visit?"

"They do not." Scar agreed, moving and kicking the shackle idly as he passed, coming to sit beside Grian. "But if today is the day that changes, I will be awake to alert you."

Grian swallowed. He was drained and heavy. He wasn't sure this was a good idea, if he should've just pushed through.

Scar sensed his hesitation and tipped his head towards him. "Grian, you have given me back my voice and my physical form. I will protect you with my life."

That was a solemn vow, a painful one, a dangerous one. To have the favour of a monster.

"Soon we will have our freedom too. But it has been a very long day for you, and you need your strength. Rest and I will keep an eye out for anyone who seeks to harm you." Scar promised, shifting and lifting a leathery wing in offer.

Grian stared at him, unsure, but emboldened by his words. He carefully leaned into Scar's side and let the wing shield him, wrapping him in warmth.

He shut his eyes, body hyperaware, tense and waiting for something. Nothing came. He breathed carefully in and out, as the warmth seeped into his skin, as Scar's watchful eye protected him, and sleep felt like he was giving away something. Something vulnerable and coveted. He would never use the word trust, not after what he'd been through. But there wasn't a better word coming to mind.

Sleep was spotty and uneven, and came with a very distinct feeling of being chased, even if the images didn’t solidify into such. But everytime his mind came to the surface, the secure wrap of the wing around him bathed his mind in reassurance.

...

if/when i finish part 2, i may just post the whole thing to ao3. spirit willing.

#scarian #hermitshipping #fic stuff #rem askbox #scarian monsterfucker au #cheers szad for the prompt and help when i crawled into your dm's trying to figure out vex!scar

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