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eideticmemory · 4 years

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FINE LINE 3 | SPENCER REID

Two decades of history and two kids later, you and your ex-husband learn to navigate the world of co-parenting. Part 3! Read Part 2 Here!

If you saw typos, no you didn’t ❤️

Word Count: 3,165.

Warning: Daddy issues, mommy issues, angst, romance, drama, yay!

PART 3: EDEN

Eden Penelope Reid was conceived on the twenty-sixth of September, on a ugly, yellow couch in the BAU briefing room. Not two feet from the roundtable! You didn’t mean for it to happen. The sex . . . or the baby. But they were both the result of a dark, disturbing case, sleep deprivation, a long plane ride back to DC, and an encounter in a dark room after everyone had gone home.

Spencer placed a long and slimy kiss to your lips, almost like he had been holding it from you for days. You stepped back, jolted, and you would’ve fallen backwards had Spencer not had his arms around you.

“What on earth are you doing?” you whispered, your voice still laced with shock and surprise.

“Wha — what do you mean . . . ?” Spencer asked, genuine confusion plastered over that pretty face of his. “I thought that’s why we came in here?”

“Oh, my goodness, I came in here to grab my things and go home, Hugh Hefner, where is your mind?”

“My mind’s on you,” he murmured, nuzzling your body into his, pressing his lips to your cheek. “Always.”

“Hm,” you hummed, your eyes fluttering closed as he gave you a dreamy kiss. “You’ve always had that verbal thing . . . quick mind, soft lips. You could talk your way into anything, Spencer Reid.”

“Yeah?” he mumbled, his lips pressed feverishly to yours. “Anything?”

“Yeah . . . anything.”

Stepping out of the shower and drying off, surrounded by the scent of fresh lavender, you wrapped yourself in a cotton towel. Your outfit was laid across the bed, from the top to the pants to the black flats. It felt a little morbid, as if you were staring at a dress made for a funeral. But, God, let’s face it, you’re just being dramatic.

You tied your hair up, and dropped the towel to your toes, warmth caught under the surface. As you took your shirt between your fingers, your bedroom door swung open with an intense creak, and you jumped out of your skin.

“Ah!” You screamed, hugging the fabric against your body, crouching down to hide any and every inch of your figure. “Spencer!”

“Whoa!” He crowed, immediately backing out of the room. “Sorry!”

“What the hell?” You shouted. You hugged the shirt, pressing it to your chest, your torso, one arm outstretched to cover your legs.

“I’m sorry, [y/n], I thought you were dressed!”

“Yeah, right . . . pervert. What are you doing here? I’m meeting you at the office in an hour.”

“I told you I was dropping by in the morning.”

“So?”

“So . . . here I am.”

“Sorry, I’m just not used to you being somewhere when you say you are, my mistake.”

He shook his head to himself, chin ducked down to avert his eyes, “I came to ask if you’d like a ride this morning? After we drop the kids off?”

“A ride?” You responded, quickly dressing yourself to maneuver an icky, uncomfortable situation. “We’re carpooling to therapy?”

“If you want,” he shrugged. “Thought we could get breakfast, maybe.”

You scoffed, and rolled your eyes as you marched towards the door. Prepared to confront Spencer with a bit of sass and sarcasm, you were taken aback by the sight of him. Early in the morning, hair perfectly curled around his face, and he was dressed in a wrinkle-free, perfectly pressed black suit. Like the ones you used to buy for him, just to see the way he moved in them.

“I think I’ll pass,” you told him. “I told the kids I’d take them to school today, and they’ve already got their hearts set on getting Dunkin’ this morning, so . . .”

“So, I’ll see you at the office,” he nodded, solemnly.

You returned the nod with a gentle motion of your head, and as you turned to walk off, Spencer aligned beside you, ultimately following you through the hall. “You look good,” he said. You didn’t respond, just released a silent exhale while focusing your attention forward. “It’s nice to know that . . . some things are still as nice as I remember.”

You laughed -- head thrown back, mouth open, the sound erupting like a volcano. “It’s not,” you explained, looking him in the eye as you approached the stairs. “It’s better.”

Four weeks after Eden Penelope Reid was conceived, you were in Texas, a small town outside of Austin haunted by a head of murders throughout the area. You can’t remember specifically what the town was called because you were so, fucking, sick. You woke up with a headache, nausea threatening to spill by the second, and a stomach ache that wouldn’t kick it. It was bad.

But you know how to put on a Brave Face. You pushed through, even with your husband’s voice echoing in your ear, close to your ear, his worried hand on your back.

“[y/n],” he pleaded. “You’re sick, just — please.”

“Spencer, I’m fine. I’m up, I’m walking, that’s a good sign. I’m okay.”

You visited a crime scene not fifteen minutes later. It was hot, very hot, suffocatingly hot, and you felt yourself. You felt yourself wobble on your heels. Felt the life just fall out of you, like gravity had sucked it into the Earth. Spencer called your name as your body fell.

“Mom?” E called, the sound of the traffic blending in with her voice. “Is everything okay?”

“Yeah, hun,” you glanced at her, balancing your attention between E and the road. “Why?”

“You’ve been hitting your juul more than usual lately,” she explained.

“What?” you gasped. “No, I haven’t.”

“Yes, you have. You’re driving with it in your hand right now!”

“On average, mom hits the juul 16 times an hour, but she’s just hit it seven times in the last five minutes,” Em added from the backseat.

“There. Statistics to back me up,” E gloated.

“I’m fine!” you laughed. “Really. I’m more than fine.”

“Really? So the sudden nicotine uptake has nothing to do with your super secret meeting with dad this morning?” E asked.

“It is not a super secret meeting, it’s two parents, meeting for a discussion.”

“Right . . . not secret at all.” She nodded.

You sighed, “A secret is an awful thing to keep. You can ask your Aunt Emily about that one, but, you know I’d never keep a secret from you,” you smiled.

“Right,” she nodded, suspicious at your sudden change in tone. “You sure you’re not keeping a secret, mom?”

“Are you profiling me?”

“Okay, enough with the profiling jokes.”

“No. Why? Are you keeping a secret from me?” you piqued. It’s been buried. For almost a week now. E, and the boy, as you call him. For a few days, you just needed solitude, time to process and understand. After that, came the confrontational period, well, as confrontational as you get with Eden. Which means you dropped subtle hints until she just thought you were being weirded than usual. But now, she had reason to be suspicious that you were suspicious, and two suspicious Reid women don’t make a mix.

“No?” She responded, slowly, her eyebrow raising at you. “Why?”

“No?” You paused to take a breath. “Okay.” “What does that mean?” “Nothing.”

“Do you know something I don’t?” E asked, her arms now crossed over her chest. Not good. She’s defensive. E’s never defensive.

“See, that’s just the same as the secret thing we had going earlier,” you joked.

“Ugh,” E groaned.

“What?”

“You always get like this,” she shook her head.

“Like what?” “Like this when dad comes around!”

You stopped the car, the brakes skidding to a halt at the school entrance. “Are you -- E, this isn’t about your dad, this is . . . about that boy. That boy that kissed you at your party. The boy who kissed my sixteen year old daughter on the cheek.” “What?” E snapped, sitting up in her seat.

Em slid out of the car, ran to class.

“I mean,” you rambled. “ I have an eidetic memory, E, I can’t unsee that!”

“See that . . . ?“ she whispered to herself. You could see the wires clicking in your head. Her eyes widened, “You saw that? You saw --” She began to pack up her stuff, scrambling really, grabbing her iced coffee.

“E --” you stuttered. “What are you doing? Hey, hey, talk to me.” “I’m late for school, mom, I’ll text you.”

“E --”

“Bye.” you were cut off by the sound of the car door slamming in your face. If ‘what the fuck?’ could be a facial expression, you were wearing it right now.

You had a concussion when the doctor told you about Eden Penelope Reid. You had fallen on the concrete, and couldn’t really see straight. You felt Spencer though. He was holding your arm and supporting your wobbling body with his since you’d hoped straight out of the hospital bed.

“Congratulations, Mrs. Reid,” The doctor smiled at you.

“Huh? What? Congratulations?” You slurred, tired and confused and looking to your husband.

“Oh, I’m . . . sorry, I thought of you . . .” After exchanging glances with Spencer, she sighed and beared another grin. “You’re . . . pregnant. About five weeks along.”

You fainted. Again.

“Hey,” Spencer greeted you, following your fast footsteps with his eyes.

You rounded the edge of the couch and took a seat beside him, huffing as you plopped down, only to give him a glance of acknowledgement.

“You’re late, I thought you got lost,” he said.

“Nope, just took the scenic route,” you grumbled. “Hi, I’m [y/n],” you directed at the therapist sitting across from you. She wore dark red lipstick and a matching blouse, her nails a deep purple over her slacks. Okay. Cool.

“Olivia Oliphant,” she nodded kindly. “Nice to meet you, Dr. Reid.” “Oh, just [y/n], please,” you told her.

“Well, [y/n], Spencer here was just telling me about your kids.”

“Oh?” You looked at Spencer. “He was?”

“Yep, Eden and Emerson, beautiful names. How did you guys pick them?”

When you were approximately five weeks pregnant with Eden Penelope Reid, you felt the most excruciating pain of your life. That’s including two rounds of childbirth, some beatings, a bullet wound. You clamp down on your lower stomach, grasping for air as you collapsed to the floor, in the middle of a crowded police station. Penelope rushed to your side, calling your name, “Oh, my goodness, [y/n], what’s wrong? What’s wrong?” “I don’t --” you whimpered. “Something’s not -- ow! -- something’s not right!” Local PD helped you to your feet, a worried Garcia following behind them. “C--call Spencer!” You pleaded, although the phone was already to her ear.

Spencer had just been shot in the neck.

They didn’t think he was going to make it. They didn’t think he was going to make it. You beat Derek, pounding your fists into his chest for not telling you sooner, broke down in the center of the waiting room.

But he did make it.

He made it, and he was right here. He was right here, and you were right here, and E was at school, mad at you, and it was eating you alive. Did you completely undo your ‘cool mom’ reputation with one meltdown? No, how could you?

“[y/n]?” Dr. Oliphant called.

You zoned back into reality, both Spencer’s and her concerned faces focused in on you.

“Yes,” you cleared your throat. “Well, Eden is named after East of Eden by John Steinback, and . . . Emerson is named after Ralph Waldo Emerson.”

“And,” she began. “Would you say your kids are your main reason for being in therapy?”

“Oh, wow, okay, just jumping into it, got it,” you huffed.

Spencer was still eyeing you, worried and troubled. He knows you. He knows when you’re upset, and stressed, and he couldn’t stop staring at your nails. “Uh . . .” you hummed. “Hm? . . . hm? Would I say that there’s any other reason I’m in therapy for sixty minutes with my ex-husband? No.”

“[y/n].” Spencer spoke, turning his body full to you. “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing, nothing,” you shook your head.

“Yeah,” he scoffed. “ I haven’t heard that one before.”

“Yes, yes, yes, you’d ask what’s wrong, and I nothing’ed my way through our marriage and we got divorced. I know.”

“Jesus,” he sighed, exasperated, pressing his palm to his forehead.

An awkward silence floated throughout the room for what felt like hours. You stared at your shoes, and huffed. Lifting your head up to smile at Dr. Oliphant, you said, “And that’s just the tip of the iceberg.”

There was an earthquake in California the day Eden Penelope Reid was born. A magnitude of four. This would not have mattered in the slightest -- due to the fact that you were on the other side of the country -- but Spencer was there. In California, sitting in the dark, surrounded by broken glass when Eden was born.

She came at night, after your water broke at the BAU headquarters. You spent hours of the day stumbling around a hospital room, waiting for Spencer to show. Penelope’s quick with a phone, she knew hours before you finally asked her.

“Penelope?” You whimpered, curled up in the bed with your hand pressed to your back.

“Yes?” She pipped.

“Spencer’s not coming . . .” you turned to her. “Is he?”

“We’ve got to talk.”

You glanced over your shoulder, rolling your eyes, “Spencer, please.”

“[y/n], come on,” he pleaded.

You looked him in the eye, sighing as you leaned back in your seat. You could hear the kids shuffling around upstairs, having just been dropped off by Spencer, who was stern and pressed. It was kind of funny.

“I was in a bad mood,” you told him.

“Bad mood? [y/n], you sat there for forty-five minutes sipping your coffee every time Dr. Oliphant asked you a question so you couldn’t talk with a full mouth.”

“Bad mood . . .” you repeated, this time quieter, softer, to yourself.

Spencer’s expression softened, almost instantly. “[y/n]?” he called. “What happened? You’ve been biting your nails, I know something’s wrong.”

You crumbled. You ran yours hands over your face and sobbed. From that moment Spencer and you saw E with that boy, you’ve been reliving it over and over. Trying to recognize his face, and it wasn’t until just last night that you realized it’s . . . Spencer. This boy looks just like Spencer, and you can’t even figure out how you feel about Spencer, -- who you didn’t meet until you were 23, by the way -- let alone this kid.

So how is E doing? How is she already so comfortable around him? And kissing. Have they kissed before? You don’t want to know. No. You do want to know. It’s all you want. You want the most important girl in your life to talk to you, to confide in you the way she did when she was seven years old. But now she’s sixteen and she won’t even look at you.

“And of course, I found a way to blame it on you,” you paused to breath after a long rant. “Because, well, you’re here, which is still weird to me, but hey,” you shrugged, inhaling a hit from your juul.

Spencer nodded his head understandingly, biting down on his to contain a smile. “Now, that . . . is how you should’ve spoken in therapy this morning.” He laughed.

You chuckled, for the first time all day, and rolled your eyes, “Next time.”

“Next time?” He grinned. After connecting his eyes to yours, and seeing a glimmer of confirmation, he sat up, “Well, okay, cool. Then, next time I’ll tell you that you are the best mother on the planet. Raising the kids the way you did . . . you made Eden who she is. You made that incredible girl, and you shaped her into the slightly . . . stubborn girl she is today. She is her mother’s daughter, she just needs someone to push past the hardhead every once in a while.”

You exhaled, a slow, steady breath.

Spencer.

He stayed until Sunday afternoon. Just like he said he would. A whole day after you wandered into E’s room, full of fresh courage and love. You asked her if she was hungry, and she said no. By the time you left, you had a name. Sullivan.

“Sullivan?” You repeated. “Does he go by Sully?” You cackled.

“When he was six!” She shouted, a fit of giggles dribbling from her lips. “He goes by Van now.” “Oh, my goodness,” you feigned as though you were collapsing on the bed. “Van?”

“Yes! Hey, don’t judge! You married a guy named Spencer.”

“[y/n]! [y/n]? [y/n] --” Spencer’s voice lowered to immediately silence the moment he stepped into the room. Under the hospital lights, you laid on a bed, a tiny baby in your arms and a soft smile on your face.

“Don’t be shy now,” you giggled. “Come in.”

He stepped into the room, slowly, his breath shaky from running down the halls. “I--is, is this her?”

“No, I misplaced the actual baby, so they gave me a very life-like doll,” you smirked.

“Oh, baby,” he cooed, placing a million and one kisses to your forehead. “You’re incredible, you did -- incredible,” he held you close, looking down at the infant against your chest. “So, what’s her name? You did remember to pick one, didn’t you?”

“Yep, UnSub --”

“[y/n] . . .” he smiled.

You laughed, holding your child up to her father. “This . . . is Eden Penelope Reid.”

Spencer didn’t come out of his room for hours before he was set to leave on Sunday. As worried as you were, you kept to entertaining the kids in the living room. The two of them were snacking on some popcorn, watching a movie on netflix. Em was tucked underneath your arm, and you did your very, very best to focus in on the TV. But the moment you heard the hinge of his bedroom door, you sat up in your seat.

He came down the steps in a stomping rage. Didn’t even come in to join you all, just called for you, “[y/n] . . . [y/n], can you come here, please?”

You furrowed your eyebrows, and stood to your feet, nervously eyeing the kids. “Be right back,” you told them, before walking out into the foyet.

“Okay . . .” Spencer said, just above a quiet whisper. “Okay, okay . . .” He was trying to calm himself down. Pacing, muttering, hands on his hips.

“Spencer?” You walked up to him. “Hey, what’s the matter? Hey . . .”

“I’ve had . . . some time to process, some time to fully understand the information, but I know that you, haven’t, so I’m going to get to it . . . Catherine Adams is being injected tomorrow.”

Crickets. Silence. No sobs, no boo-hoos, nothing. “And?” You replied. “Are we throwing a party? Because that can be arranged.”

“And in exchange for her cooperation in multiple homicide investigations . . .” Spencer sighed, his head ducked down, hands in his pockets. “She gets a final request.”

You scoffed, rolled your eyes, “What does she want now? A night with you at the Ritz? Just give it to her at this point so she’ll kick the bucket.”

“She wants to see Eden.”

“Wha --” The sound slipped out before you could catch it. Thoughts. Thoughts. Thoughts. So many. And all you could say was, “No. Absolutely-fucking-not . . . fuck!”

“[y/n] --”

“The psycho who had my daughter kidnapped wants to . . . meet her? She can go straight to hell, and suffer on the way there.”

And that was the moment, Eden Penelope Reid stepped into the doorway, her hands stern at her side, her face brazen with courage and strength, “I want to do it.”

#mine #fl #spencer reid #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid imagine #spencer reid/reader #criminal minds #criminal minds fanfiction #criminal minds imagine

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djtjsmith14 · 3 years

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Confection Confession 18+

Luisa fanfic

Three months in.

My relationship with Ana is healthy, strong and steady. The amount of dates we’ve been on is unbelievable, but no matter what we do, we’re being sure to take it as slow as possible.

There was something about this girl that made me want to take my time with her. She wasn’t like the other girls in my past who were only down for a hook-up. She was…special and deserved much more than what I could sexually give. She deserved my romantic side. And that’s what I aim to give her.

I wanted to give her flowers and dance with her under the stars like we did at the festival months back. I wanted to cuddle with her and let her know that as long as she’s with me, she’ll be safe. I really like this girl. There was no one like her.

But of course, me having a girlfriend, walking around in town with her, holding hands and not being shy about PDA, I drew some attention from other girls. The attention never really went away since I was basically the eye-candy of the town, but now that the eye-candy is boo’d up, every girl wanted to shoot their best shots in order to steal.

One of these girls was Elena.

I had recently started to work shifts at the bakery in town instead of doing a bunch of chores for town folks. Señor Raúl and his daughter, Elena were in charge of the bakery, running a pretty decent business.

The work I was doing for the villagers was fine and dandy, but the money they paid me sometimes wasn’t steady, and after many years of doing it, it got completely monotonous. So, working at the bakery would allow me to have a steady income, getting paid upfront from Señor Raúl himself or from Elena if he couldn’t get it to me.

I always found myself helping out my mamá in the kitchen or just cooking on my own for the family like she taught me. Mamá says I’m gonna put her out of a job if I keep it up. It was a good joke, but then she suggested that I assist Señor Raúl at the bakery since he was leaving town to go visit his mamá in Chile.

So, baking? With payment? Sign me up!

I wake up from a deep slumber, stretching as I hear a knock on my bedroom door. I wasn’t about to get up to answer it so I just yell out, “Está abierto!”

The door opens and in comes Isabela with a whole breakfast dish made for me: huevos pericos. She held a thermal cup in her other hand, which I’m guessing was probably some hot chocolate because everybody knows I hate coffee with an ever-burning passion.

“Hey, sis,” she says as she walks towards my bed.

“Hey. What’s this, huh?” I ask, fully sitting up in my bed.

She rolls her eyes as she gets to my bed, resting the plate on my sheet on the side of me.

“Don’t turn it into a thing,” she says as I take the thermal cup from her, the heat from it already warming my hands. “I just wanted to do something nice for you today before you go into the bakery, that’s all.”

“Aww, thanks, Is,” I genuinely say, taking a sip of the liquid. Yep, hot chocolate. With a little bit of crème just the way I like it. God yes.

“I also wanted to let you know something about that place,” Isa says as I dig into the breakfast.

I look up at her with an eyebrow raised. “Uh oh. The place haunted or something?”

Isa dryly chuckles. “Imagine that. Pero no. It’s about Elena.”

“What about her?” I lick the stray food off my finger and wipe it on the napkin that was provided with the meal.

“You know she has a massive crush on you, right?” Isa folds her arms.

See, I like working with Elena. She’s a pretty nice and generous person, but as far as I knew, she hadn’t done anything out-of-line that went past professional territory. Well, except for all the stares she gives me. And that one time she eyed me when she was putting that lollipop slowly into her mouth—oh God.

“Who doesn’t?” I joke, but also half serious.

“Luisa. She’s bad news, okay? And she’s bold. If you’re going to work at this bakery, you need to keep her at bay, okay? Let her know you have a girlfriend,” Isa says, swishing her hair over her shoulder and walking out of the room.

Yeahhhh. That’s the problem. I think she already knows that…?

At the bakery that day, I’m helping customers pick out the confections in the glass case display as I roll some dough, wiping the powder on my hands off on the apron around my waist. As I finish selling one guy one of our mini-cakes, Elena comes in the front door with groceries. I direct my attention back to the dough, and as she walks past me, I look up at her to see her smirking at me as she walks to the back. “Hey.”

“Hey,” I say back as she sashays out of sight.

By the time the crowd dies down, Elena comes back out to help with the customers while I tended to the baking. When it was pretty dead in the shop, she joined me to my left at the front counter where I was trying to flatten the next batch of dough.

“Hey,” she says, sidling really close to me to the point where I could feel her leg rest alongside mine. She looks down at what I’m doing. “You got a knife for the dough?”

I stop and look around. You’re a genius, Luisa. How are you gonna cut the damn dough with no knife? “Oh, I must’ve put it in the sink by accident.”

“I got you,” she says, going to the counter on the opposite side to get a knife before coming back over and resting it next to the cutting board I was using. She watches me work for a while before placing a hand on my forearm. “You want me to show you how I do it?”

“Sure,” I say and she slides her hand down my arm to put her hand on top of mine, which is still finger-deep in the dough.

“I like to knead it like this,” Elena says, directing my hand to squeeze the dough slowly over and over, almost in a sensual way.

As I get the hang of it, she lets go of my hand to watch me continue to squeeze the dough to tenderize it. She stays there for a while and she gets kinda quiet, so I turn my head and look down at her with an eyebrow raised and find her gaze fixed on my bicep, biting her bottom lip in the process.

She looks up and notices me watching her. Turning her attention back to the dough that I’m still kneading, she says, “Sorry. Just…admiring a work of art.”

I nervously chuckle. Ohh boy. “Yeah, this cake is gonna turn out delicious,” I say, trying to shift the tension.

She chuckles, too. “That’s not what I meant.”

I feel her eyes on me again as I intently focus on the dough. “Um, I need queso.”

I back up from the counter as I try to remember where they kept the shredded queso.

“I’ll handle that for you,” she says all seductive as she bends over right in front of me to open the cupboard below my working station.

As she looks for the queso, which I don’t remember being in this cupboard, I find myself looking at her ass out of curiosity. It was round and had some serious definition to it, pretty…tappable—no Luisa, what are you doing?

Wait, would I tap that if I wasn’t with somebody? Am I just horny? Ay Dios mío, Luisa. Stop. You. Are. Taken. You will not give in to your past tendencies. You are a changed woman, damn it! Stop looking at her ass! ¡Ahora mismo!

I snap out of it and catch Elena peeping back at me while her ass was almost rubbing up against my torso. Could she hear my thoughts? I rub the back of my neck and clear my throat. Damn it, she was clearly doing all of this to get my attention and look! Now she knows it’s working.

She chuckles and straightens back up. “Hmm, looks like it’s not in there,” she basically whispers as she looks up at me, brushing past me to go to what I’m assuming was the right cupboard. She pulls the queso out without thinking twice and hands it to me, her eyes never leaving my face.

“Thank you,” I say.

“My pleasure.”

Something about the way she said pleasure made my heart skip a beat. I quickly glance back at her just in time to see her wink at me over her shoulder before exiting the space.

Oh God. What is happening right now??

Hours later, the bakery dies down again and there’s no one in the shop at this time. Elena frosts some muffins that she just took out of the brick oven in the back as I wipe down the back of the glass display.

As I toss the towel I’m using in the garbage, Elena walks up to me with one of the muffins in her hand. I stop in my tracks as I look down at her. “I want you to try this and tell me what you think.”

She holds out the muffin to me and I take it, devouring it. Damn, I didn’t realize I was this hungry.

“That’s really good,” I say, about to lick the frosting off my fingers but she stops me and I look at her in confusion.

“They’re banana flavored,” she whispers, taking my hand and bringing it up to her mouth.

My heart pounds as she slowly inserts each of my fingers into her mouth, closing it around them and sucking the frosting off of them. Her eyes never leave mine as she cleans my fingers with her mouth, sucking all the way down to each of my knuckles with every finger, immediately peaking my arousal as I just watch her.

Oh God. Oh God. Why is this happening?? Ana? Novia? Help??

I’m not gonna lie. Elena is like, super hot. And clearly super into me. If I asked her if she’d want to fuck in the supply closet, I bet she wouldn’t hesitate to say yes. But I had to nip this in the bud. I have the most wonderful girlfriend and Elena missed her chance.

I had to pull away. Why wasn’t I pulling away? Maybe I shouldn’t. She’s deepthroating my fingers right now!And wait—did she just gag? While I’m looking?? As much as I don’t want it to, my arousal peaks even more. I have to tell her to stop!

“Uh-“ is all I muster up.

She slides my pinkie out of her mouth with a wet pop, dropping my hand down to my side. “All clean,” she says with a smile and a shimmy of her shoulders. I’m literally speechless and she notices, giggling at my reaction.

“Meet me on your break?” She bites her lip, sashaying into the stockroom on the far right side of the bakery.

Yeah, I’ll meet you there. I might be speechless now, but I won’t be when I come to break it to ya, girlie.

When it was finally my break time, I pace over to the stockroom and enter, shutting the door behind me. The minute the door closes, she immediately walks up to me and presses into me, hands on my chest and leg lifted on my waist. “Hey,” she says. “You ready?”

I shove her off of me with just enough strength to get her to stand down but not to hurt her. “Ready for what, Elena?”

Her eyes widen as catches herself on a metal shelf against one of the walls. “For this pussy, what else?”

“Wha—you thought I came in here to fuck you?” Guess she heard my thoughts about the supply closet.

“Yeah?”

I scoff. “Unbelievable. I came in here to tell you to back off.”

“Why?”

“I have a girlfriend, Elena!” I say with a little volume in my voice.

“Yeah, so?”

“So?? So I’m not interested!”

“Bullshit, mentirosa,” she says. “I see the way you look at me.”

“What?”

“You totally wanted to fuck me on the counter earlier.”

“Wha—are you serious??”

“Why are you fighting it?”

“Because I don’t want it! I don’t want you!”

Elena relaxes into the metal shelf she’s leaning on. She looks absolutely defeated now. “Ugh. It was worth a shot. You’re just so—sexy.”

“Yeah, well. I belong to someone else.”

“With Ana, right? Yeah. I know. You two don’t even try to hide it. You guys are cute, but I think you deserve so much better.”

“Better? She’s amazing, what do you mean?”

“She’s not gonna please you the way I would. I’m more passionate. And you deserve that after working so hard all these years,” she says with certainty, walking around to the stockroom door and putting her hand on the handle, clearly ready to go.

“Well, she’s no Catalina, okay?” I bring up, mostly wanting to speak my mind.

“Catalina? You know Catalina?”

“Yeah, she’s my ex?”

“Ohh,” Elena says in a way where this was clearly news to her. “Yeah, and I thought Ana was bad. Oof. Luisa, your tastes—“

“Hey, don’t talk about my tastes when you were literally just begging for one a minute ago.”

She’s about to open the stockroom door, but then she stops, turning around to dramatically gasp very similar to how Isa does.

“I got what I needed, muchas gracias,” she spits, squinting her eyes at me.

“Great! So no more of these antics, okay? Or I’m telling your father.”

“You. Wouldn’t. Dare.”

“Oh. I dare.”

Elena scoffs, opening the door. “I can’t believe I ever liked you,” she says, stomping out and shutting the door behind her.

I stare at the door, folding my arms, feeling satisfied with myself.

Welp. That just happened. I want to continue working here, so I’m just gonna hope Elena doesn’t try anything else before Señor Raúl gets back. If anything, things should go back to normal when he does.

#disney #disney encanto #encanto #luisa madrigal #luisa encanto #encanto 2021 #encanto luisa #oc #confectionery #bakery #jacked

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tainted-wine · 4 years

Text

Evil Demonic Music

Priest!Reader X Demon!Present Mic

Hizashi has a large and filling feast on every Halloween night. He’s been doing it since before you were born. Yet here you are crashing his party while smelling like fresh meat in a den of wolves. It’s entirely your fault for throwing off his groove.

Disclaimer: Reader is more reminiscent of an action priest in a gothic action movie or anime. There’s little to no accuracy here. Lightning will most likely strike me the next time I venture outside.

Words: 7.9k

Warnings: Noncon/Dubcon, Christian Themes, Possession/Mind Control, Orgy, Public Sex, Sorta Corruption, Downer Ending

🎃👻🎃HAPPY LATE HALLOWEEN, EVERYONE!🎃👻🎃

------------x------------

Yuuei Club Presents “Dance With The Devil” Halloween Event LIVE Music by Present Mic Costumes Encouraged // Doors Open at 8 p.m.

It looked innocent enough; a graphical poster on the door of a building surrounded by smaller businesses in the outlet. It masked itself well in the daytime with its plain exterior, devoid of any attractive decorations save for the club’s name that glowed in hypnotizing neon when night falls. All of its temptations were contained inside, dormant until it was filled with careless souls seeking unholy pleasures.

You didn’t hate them for it. The temptation to sin is strong. It’s how evil thrives, and the average person lacks the strength to resist. It’s your duty to protect all people, even the faithless, from evil’s many devices.

Like this nightclub.

Party locations like these were an uncommon feeding ground, although now that you think about it, the muddled and vulnerable minds residing within should make for easy meals. The loud and nonsensical “music” and absolute lack of restraint that the people displayed was baffling, but your task is to guard souls, not convert and guide them back to Heaven’s path. One demon in particular, however, favored ‘party animals’ more than any other creature from the vile depths.

“Easy there! You glare at this place any harder and it might combust!”

To the average human, the monster that appears beside you is nothing more than a tall blonde man with an inviting smile, but he can’t hide himself from the blessed and perceptive. Beneath the guise of spice and incense, he reeks of smoke and brimstone.

Hizashi, as he called himself, will never fool you.

“Stay back,” spit nearly flies from how harshly you say the words. You know that he can’t harm you, not while you wear your cross around your neck and calmly hold thoughts of your Lord in your mind. Still, you warn the dangerous fiend to keep his distance.

He obeys and innocently raises his hands. “Hey hey, you know I’m not out to hurt you, and you’re not gonna pull anything with that crafty little weapon there, right?”

No, you weren’t going to take a stab at him with the blade hidden in your holy necklace. You tried it before, an attempt to drive it into his back when he wasn’t looking. His hand caught your wrist at a speed you couldn’t comprehend – you were certain that you didn’t blink, yet you didn’t even see him move at all. His friendly smile didn’t waver, not a hint of anger visible on his face.

“Careful, baby priest! Don’t mean to sound cocky, but I’m way out of your league.” The warning wasn’t in his words, but in the heat of Hell itself that briefly washed over you, a sensation so powerful and real that you feared you were being dragged down that very instant. But the unseen flames died off the second he released your hand, eyes flashing a bloody red before returning to their usual emerald hues.

That was the first and only time you tried to banish him.

“I don’t trust you, but I’m not stupid,” was your answer, making sure not to let your hatred and disgust cloud your mind. He might take hold of that.

It was a satisfactory response, going by his bright beam of a smile. So friendly and inviting.

Months had passed when you finally accepted that he was a demon who genuinely enjoyed living alongside humans. He never spoke ill of your fellow men and commended them for their many ways of enjoying their short lives. Most demons you’ve dealt with favor negative emotions. Fear, sorrow, anger… those cold and bitter feelings attracted hellbeasts like flies to honey.

But this one? He fed on mortals that were as cheerful and carefree as him. All of this still wasn’t enough to convince you that he is truly gentle, however.

Hizashi stayed where he was, staring at his own promotional poster. The urge to leave was almost overwhelming, but you couldn’t let him know how much he unnerved you with just his presence alone. Instead, you shuffle awkwardly and try not to utter prayers of protection. Whether or not that will anger him is something you don’t want to find out.

He rocks back and forth on his heels. “Are you pumped for the best night of the year? Man, Halloween never gets old for me, especially in this day and age. Everyone dancing while dressed like a bunch of monsters...it’s almost like I’m at home! Humans sure know how to party like tomorrow is The Cleansing.”

“Yes, and it’s shameful,” you humor him. “I have no interest in debauchery.”

He chuckled and shook his head. “It’s called having a good time, babe. Put the tome down and loosen up every once in a while.”

Put down the tome?

Loosen up?

Babe?

How dare he make you even entertain the thought of abandoning your teachings. You just know he’s trying to rile you up, to make you lose control. You won’t let him have his way. “I have my good times in moderation, on days when I praise God with my brothers and sisters with a glass of wine. There is discipline in everything, even celebration. Heathens simply get drunk and lose themselves in the madness.”

The demon chuckled as he ran his fingers through long golden locks. Just the beautiful sheen of his hair could probably attract the greedy. “Yep. Times sure do change, don’t they?”

“They don’t just change, they’re desecrated. What was once a day to ward off evil spirits now does the exact opposite. They’re too busy with their consumerism, candy, haunted houses…”

“Oh yeah, those haunted attractions are wild. So many of my buddies gorge themselves there. Free fear for the taking, ya dig?”

Despicable.

“And you don’t?” You test him. He was a conversationalist; a few probing questions won’t bother him, surely.

He withdraws his phone, scrolling through the screen for something. “Come on, you know me by now, don’t you? That sour stuff isn’t for me.”

“Forgive me for still struggling to trust you.” Sarcasm felt too risky, actually. You won’t use it again.

“Heh, no offense taken! You priests know just how cruel we can be sometimes. Mortals learned from the best, after all.”

Your lips twitch. His curve into a more wicked grin.

Every single passerby can’t seem to resist giving you odd looks. You can feel the eyes behind you as people make their way around the shops. Your garb wasn’t that strange; they’re acting like they’ve never seen a person in a robe and wearing several divine artifacts before. They would too if they knew what Hizashi was, who has yet to garner a single look of suspicion.

Ridiculous, his casual getup is actually fooling them. Perhaps the silly villainous mustache wasn’t big enough to give him away.

“Ah, here it is!” You nearly jumped from his voice and how quickly he leaned in, a video playing on his phone. “Just tap on the screen to play it an-”

“I know how to use a phone,” You hiss, taking the device from his hand and shooting him a glance every few seconds in case he tried something.

The video was chaos, an unsteady view of flashing lights and thumping heavy beats. Whoever held it was smack dab in the middle of an energetic crowd that sang and danced like barbaric animals. It was an orgy of overindulgence. Too much drinking with their comically shaped cups and bottles, too much lust in their crude excuse of a dance, and synthetic drums that dragged on for so damn long, even the beat sounded drunk. It’s not the first time you heard the horrid noise; it unfortunately appears to be popular among the masses.

God help these poor souls.

“Last year’s party.” Hizashi’s words cut through your thoughts. “Pretty hype, huh? Nothing gets my listeners goin’ like a hard trap beat!”

Oh? So he’s fully admitting it now? “So you’re calling it what it is, are you? Trapping them with your satanic melodies?”

The confusion on his face was very convincing, but you knew better. “What? No, that’s what the music is called.”

You couldn’t help but snort. “Please, demon. What do you think sounds more believable: A genre of music with such a simplistic and misleading name, or evil tunes that your kind uses to ensnare unassuming mortals that don’t know any better?”

“....um…”

“I thought so.” To think that he’d slip up so easily. He wasn’t as clever as he thought. “Tell me what happened to the people in this video. Are they alive? Or did you drain them until they were nothing more than lifeless husks?”

There was a snicker behind you. Both you and Hizashi turned around to see a young man holding his phone up with an amused smile, giving a little wave after being noticed. “Sorry,” he didn’t sound sorry at all. “I really like your costume, miss. Your acting is awesome, too.” With that, he put away his phone and whatever images he now has of you and continued on his merry way.

Impertinent juveniles.

“Anyway, they’re all fine,” Hizashi said, eyes returning to the door while tapping his feet to a beat you can’t hear. “I know how to feed without causing any serious harm. Even if I do go a little overboard, they’ll just brush it off as having too much to drink.”

“It doesn’t matter how good you are at controlling yourself. You’re an evil entity invading human minds.” It takes every bit of strength to not flinch when he looks at you. Again, there’s no anger – there’s never anger with him – and it makes you all the more uneasy. Maybe a being as ancient and influential as him doesn’t find a novice exorcisor like you worth getting angry or even annoyed over. “Your stench will remain on those people forever, attracting more of your kind to them unless someone like me finds and cleanses them.”

He shrugs and rubs at the back of his neck. “Come on, your boy is doing his best here. What do you want me to do? Starve?” He considers what he just said for a moment before laughing. “Nevermind, don’t answer that. Look, I ain’t leaving the stage, little priest. I’m addicted. The noise, the energy, the way everyone just loses themselves in all of it.”

The way his tongue peeks out to swipe over his upper lip has every hair on your skin sticking up.

“Man, I wish they knew just how sweet their own essence is when they’re caught up in the lights and music. Sweeter than any candy the kids will be bringing home tonight.”

He compares consuming pieces of a soul to children’s treats. “You’re really not helping your case,” you remark.

Another shrug. “C’mon, you say that like I actually have a chance at winning with you! I won’t hurt anyone in there. You have my word.”

You scoffed. “A demon’s word is-”

“Worthless, I know. See what I mean?” He withdrew a ring of keys out of his pocket. “Welp, I think we’ve stood here and stared at the door long enough. I gotta prep for the big night. Thanks for the company!” A few more seconds pass when he finds the right key and opens the entrance to the club.

You didn’t follow him inside. That would be careless.

Now it’s only you observing the building that will soon hold a giant living feast for the hungry monster. After another passing compliment about your “cool and authentic costume”, you figured you’ve stood around long enough. It was time to head home.

And find a way to keep everyone safe.

He was right; you have no way of getting rid of him yourself. That doesn’t mean you’ll stand by while knowing what danger these people will be walking into when night arrives. You’re not afraid to put your life on the line if it means protecting His children from the many evils on earth. When the first step of your plan takes root in your head, you change routes and make your way to the nearest costume shop.

Hizashi won’t be having his fill tonight.

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

8:30 p.m.

You weren’t expecting to encounter two demons tonight.

Well, perhaps that term isn’t appropriate. There is no sort of aura attached to the dark-haired man that you can trace back to the pits of Hell, but he is undoubtedly a creature of evil. One that was birthed from the shadows, living for eternity by lurking in darkness and drinking the blood of any unfortunate mortal that catches his eye.

“I knew it. I knew someone so close to Hizashi couldn’t be human.”

The vampire at the lively club’s entrance didn’t seem fazed by your accusation. He wasn’t even hiding himself. The sly bloodsucker knows that his crimson irises and enlarged fangs will be mistaken for prosthetics. Very convincing prosthetics.

“Nice to see you too,” he deadpans.

You’re getting a little tired of these beasts brushing you off. “So what’s your feeding plan here? Waiting to find an innocent maiden who wishes to see the sinful wonders inside, then take her to the back and drain her dry?”

“Like you?” The smirk doesn’t reveal any teeth, but his predatory eyes are enough to make you step back and grip the cross that still hangs around your neck. Your reaction makes him chuckle darkly before he returns to his regular disinterested self. “I already ate.” That monster. “I’m here because Hizashi thought I’d make for good security.”

“So you intend to drink from anyone that steps out of line?”

“No.”

“Lies. Look here, vampire…”

“My name is Shouta.”

“...You and your friend won’t be preying on these naive humans for much longer. He told me about his trap music, but I won’t let his songs bewitch anyone tonight.”

He stared at you, one eyebrow quirked high up. “Alright...can you give me your hand already? There’s a line growing behind you.”

You look over your shoulder, and there is indeed a line of disgruntled people dressed as various monsters and characters. You have to admit that their costumes look to be of higher quality than the angel outfit you hastily bought in the store’s clearance section. The fuzzy headband for your halo was itchy and your flimsy wings were on the verge of falling off with every sudden movement.

With a glare that messaged him not to try anything, you cautiously extended your arm. He took your hand in his – deathly cold – and wrapped a thin paper tag around your wrist. “Have fun.”

You always hate it when you can’t read their smiles.

The suffocating darkness around him was lifted when you made your way to the same doors you were looking at with so much contempt this morning. Glancing back, you saw others happily complimenting his ‘spooky’ appearance, to which he responded with either a quick thanks or a grunt. None of them seemed to notice his chilling aura or ice-cold touch.

Why must they be so blind to the evils that walk beside them everyday?

When you stepped in, the music nearly blasted you back outside. So loud, but not like the angelic choirs during gospel. You didn’t feel lifted, you just felt bombarded by pure noise. A repetitive tempo made the entire building pulse like a heartbeat. This didn’t sound like the music Hizashi supposedly used to put the crowd under a spell. It just repeated the same forsaken beat over and over again. Perhaps the repetition is meant to ease the victim’s mind and lure them in a false sense of security, then those long rolling beats will come in next, ensnaring them when their guard is down. Clever, but not clever enough.

You passed the lounge and bar area, paying no mind to the lecherous behavior around you. Boisterous laughs, alcohol being carelessly chugged…

“Hey there, angel.” A man dressed as a superhero nearly tripped over his own cape in his attempt to approach you. “You as innocent as you look? I can introduce you to the boUUUURP.” The sudden belch burned your poor eyes with the stinging smell of rum.

Lord have mercy on both you and these savages.

“No thank you,” you said through gritted teeth and brushed past him. The lights and colors are disorienting. Strobe lights, spotlights whizzing across the walls and floor, and vibrant ever-changing shapes on every surface. The intoxicated folk probably welcomed the flashing chaos. When you drink at the church, your sips stay modest and controlled, ensuring to never reach the stage of drunkenness. If you were feeling ‘buzzed’, as they would say, this musical and optical discourse would likely feel pleasant, like entering a world devoid of rules and consequences.

Also known as a world of sin.

A huge mass of bouncing bodies covered the dancefloor, and there on an elevated platform, acting as an advanced musical throne, was the evil orchestrator of the chaos.

And those long curved obsidian horns were most definitely real.

Even as he tampered with the many buttons and dials before him, Hizashi moved as wildly as his prey, too caught up in his own infernal electronic hymns to even notice your presence. Surely your chaste energy sticks out among these wrongdoers like a dove in a pit of serpents.

You need to activate your blessing before he eats. Good thing the vampire didn’t bother to inspect your costume for any natural evil repellents that you happened to be carrying.

Your self-made pockets were filled with sage and rosemary, common herbs used to drive away demons and spirits. You sprinkle them onto the floor as you continue to make your way to the center, where your power will work most efficiently. Hopefully their scent will not be overpowered by the sweaty bodies and breaths laced with alcohol of all kinds.

Pushing through the dancing crowd was an arduous task. The music had since switched to something faster and more aggressive. The hectic sounds in this one was making you miss the boring but calmer tunes from before. You never considered what the sound of a robot vomiting would sound like, but it would probably sound similar to the cacophony of ‘whirs’ and ‘wubs’ that were assaulting your ears.

The mass was pushing and tossing you every which way. The variety of masks and makeup beneath the constant moving lights was rather frightening. Of course, you’ve dealt with plenty of real monsters, but it disturbed you to see your fellow man acting in such a frenzied matter in such a perplexing setting. You can see why Hizashi adored this environment. You couldn’t tell the difference between man and beast.

Straightening your halo, you decide that this spot will fare well enough.

Now it was time to apply holy water around your feet. Just a few drops of the blessed fluid will be enough to protect everyone here.

You close your eyes, ignore the many bodies bumping against you, and pray.

O Lord, protect me from temptation.

The water trickles out before you.

O Lord, forgive those who have been led astray.

“WOOOO SHIT! THIS IS MY JAM!”

The nearby exclamation makes your eyebrow twitch.

For we know that your power is greater than any evil.

The song is deafening, but you keep going.

Grant, O Lord, the protection fro-

Someone violently collides into you, knocking the bottle right out of your hands and rolling away to disappear behind the wall of stomping shoes.

Shit! Forgive my language, Father!

You elbow the fools blocking your way, ignoring the occasional “hey” or “watch it” during your desperate search for the most important tool against evil influences.

You didn’t even finish your prayer. You need to at least do that first, before it’s too late. Clapping your hands together, you shut your eyes again and moved your lips rapidly.

OLordprotectmefromtemptationOLordforgivetosewhohavebeenledastrayforweknowthatyourpowerisgreaterthanany-

“HERE COMES THE DROP!”

The rhythm and bass changed drastically, and with it came a powerful wave of raw exhilaration.

It’s like a force was injecting every positive chemical directly into your bloodstream. The abundance of newfound energy needed to be released, just like the tension that was released from that beat drop.

Your hips are swaying in a way you’ve never moved them before, and you can’t make them stop.

Stop! Stop, please! This is his doing!

“How are my listeners doin’ tonight?!”

The demon’s voice booms through the speakers, seeping into your ears and filling you with so much excitement that you can’t help but cheer with everyone else. Your senses feel simultaneously enhanced and dulled. The humans around you were out of focus, but the diabolical DJ up ahead was so clear, it’s like you were right in front of him. The hunger in his currently red eyes struck fear in you even as you danced.

“Woo, I’m lovin’ this energy! Thanks for coming by this Halloween, ya little monsters! Now...bring this house down!”

Your heart accelerates from the rush and you begin to jump in sync with the possessed crowd. Even the people standing by or sitting at the bars couldn’t resist, joining the growing horde on the dancefloor to jump in unison.

It was unlike anything you’ve ever experienced. Not a care in the world. No customs, no praise. It didn’t give you that warm feeling of ascension. Instead you just felt...liberated.

No!

Struggling in the demon’s grip, you cleared your thoughts just enough to try to calm yourself and regain control.

Utter a prayer. Hurry. Focus. You need His protection.

‘Baby priest? Is that you?’

That is not the mighty entity you wanted to hear. The voice echoes in your head, impossible to escape. When your eyes open, you see that above the vast sea of faces, Hizashi is staring right at you.

‘I thought the dancefloor smelled a little weird! I was so busy feelin’ the beat that I almost missed you!’ You watched him laugh as he continued to violate your mind. Damn him. Wasn’t possessing you cruel enough? ‘Please, no prayers when I’m about to dig in. That’s gonna leave a bad taste in my mouth. Just keep groovin’ like everyone else!”

Your limbs obeyed without your consent and followed the rhythm. This didn’t even sound like the music you heard in the video. Were you just foolish in thinking that he only used one specific sound to trap his victims?

With another change in the bassline, a heavier weight invaded, reaching right into the depths of your heart and tugging at your very soul. You know that fear will only make you more defenseless, but there was no fighting the terror that overtook you.

Not when a demon was feeding from you.

Your brain clashed with itself. You had to keep fighting, even as he stole a fragment of what your gracious Heavenly Father had gifted you and every human, but the cheerful voices implanted in your mind begged you to stop worrying and just give in already.

There was no stopping your movements or the unending rush that surged as strongly as the music. Only now, as he completely ignored your holy safety measures and tainted your soul as easily as the oblivious heathens surrounding you, did you fully understand just how great the differences in power between him and you were.

‘Whoa...holy shit.’

The breathless moan in your head made you shudder.

‘I haven’t tasted a human as pure as you in ages.’

“Please! You’ve already fed from me!” You scream out loud as the mob revels in the thrilling sensation of having a part of them sucked away. Your voice is drowned out by the music and shouts, yet you know that the horrid fiend can hear you loud and clear. “Just get out of my head!”

The dancing stops.

The music stops.

Everything stops.

It’s relieving to finally let your body rest from the forced celebration. The lights still flash and move in the dead silence. Every single person in all of their costumed glory turns and pins you with a sharp glare. Their eyes were unfocused and glazed over, consciousness elsewhere. Hizashi was in full control of all of them.

The demon himself looked down at you, no longer wearing his usual friendly and carefree smile. He was now showing the more twisted happiness you were used to seeing on his kind.

Crazed and eager to devour.

He spoke into the microphone on his headset, voice low and eerily calm. “Angel, you can’t just give me a sample of a five-star meal and expect me to not want more.”

The dread threatens to make you faint.

“Hey, none of that!” He laughs and switches back to his cheery tone. “I told you the negative emotions aren’t for me. I mean, a lady as sweet as you is gonna taste delicious either way. Why don’t you come on up here?”

You didn’t want to. You wanted to flee from this entire situation that you foolishly believed you were ready for. You thought you could sneak into this age-old creature’s gathering and force him to go hungry for the night.

Cockiness treads horribly close to pride, and pride goes before destruction, and a haughty spirit before a fall.

You clearly didn’t have a say in the matter, what with your feet moving forward on their own. Every individual in front of you stepped aside to create a clear path from you to Hizashi’s platform. Their eyes never left, heads slowly turning as they watched you slowly climb the steps with legs that trembled from your resistance.

As he stood tall clad in leather behind the large mixer table, you noticed along with his sturdy horns, he also sported a black pointed tail that lazily swayed behind him. And his stench...the foul smell that would often make you crinkle your nose was replaced with a pleasing fragrance, like a sweet and fruity beverage. It was undoubtedly the work of his spell; everything about him has suddenly become tempting.

At this point you were wishing for the music to return so that you couldn’t hear your thunderous heartbeat as you stopped right in front of him. His hellish eyes observed you from head to toe, holding his chin between his fingers before shaking his head and smirking.

“Ya really couldn’t find a better costume?” He snickered as he got closer and fiddled with your cheaply-made gown. You avoided looking directly into his eyes, afraid of falling into the blood-red depths and never finding your way back out. “Or do you priests work on a budget?” He pauses when he notices the contents in your pockets. “Oh?” A hand is shoved inside and pulls out a handful of herbs.

“Aww gross! Sneakin’ herbs into the joint?” He winces from the smell before tossing them aside, leaving them to scatter into the unmoving group below.

How? His reaction should have been much stronger…

“Not that this stuff really works when I’m vibin’ in my element, but I’m hurt! I thought we had some trust!” He pinches your cheek, knowing that you’re unable to pull away. “And I thought you knew that I was way out of your league. You’re gonna need the big guns if you plan on keeping me away from my food.” The breath blowing into your face is abnormally hot.

There’s a layer of something otherworldly hidden in his tone whenever he emphasizes his words, like a filter poorly attempting to cover up a monster’s true guttural voice.

But once again, he switches back to normal, which does nothing to calm you. “But I’m not gonna get mad at some rookie that doesn’t know better, especially one as tasty as you!” Twirling around, he pushes a few buttons on the table that you didn’t even know where to begin to figure out.

“Sorry about the interruption, listeners!” He says to the crowd, cruelly acting like they have any ability to respond. They continue to stare blankly. “I hope you don’t mind if I switch things up a bit. Your boy is gonna be a little preoccupied during the next few tracks.”

The deafening silence is lifted with the start of a new song, and the people suddenly spring back to life, completely unaware of the mindless state they were in. Their only goal was to keep partying.

Your body was moving again as well, this time bobbing gently to the double and triple beats and low frequencies that vibrate through the floor and up your spine.

This...this was the type of melody you feared, and yet it didn’t affect you any more than the other songs. All of them were traps.

The only way you can think of fighting back is by filling your head with songs of praise. Keep your Lord in your thoughts. He will protect you.

“Tsk...angel, that stuff doesn’t work when I, ya know, already ate a piece of you.” His face tightened from hearing just a few seconds of the holy song in your head. “I told you, ya gotta loosen up a bit. You’re already dancing better than I thought you would!”

He paid no attention to his other prey, instead admiring your simple but energetic movements.

Then he began to move as well, shoulders doing a slow shimmy and following each of your steps with his own, moving closer and closer until he was able to wrap an arm around your waist and pull you in.

He’s warm. Not burning or emitting an aura of terrifying darkness. The music suddenly feels softer, easing your fears. Like an intimate embrace.

“There, it’s not so bad, is it?” He says lowly, lips almost touching your face. “Quit thinking about your big daddy for once.”

You want to protest against the disrespectful nickname for your God, but he predicts your reaction and tightens his hold on your spirit.

“You taste so damn incredible right now, don’t mess it up,” he groans and savors you. With every part of you that is consumed, it becomes harder to resist. It would be so easy to just hold onto him and keep swaying like this, rocking back and forth as his hips press against yours, grinding into you.

The unfamiliar sensation startles you, but Hizashi shuts down your panic with a growl. “Fuck, I can’t believe I’ve forgotten.” he murmurs into your shoulder, breathing deeply to take in your scent. “I’ve been so hooked on the party life that I forgot just how heavenly innocents like you taste. To think that I’d have an actual priest dancing with me, tasting that revelry from such a pure source...pardon my blasphemy, but goddamn.”

You’re swimming through the fiery haze clouding your mind, clawing against it in a desperate search for an opening. But with every beat, the haze thickens and you sink further in.

You couldn’t find the light. No salvation.

More sinful feelings assault you from the friction of his groin against yours, a growing bulge rubbing on your most sacred area. It sends a foreign tingle down there.

“Ooooh, don’t think I can’t feel that, baby” he rasps, holding you so closely in a dance fitting for two lovers. “I can sense everything now that you’ve let me in.”

That angers you enough to find your voice again, just barely. “I didn’t let you in...” You tense from another hard grind. “Foul...beast.”

“Are you sure? You’re giving in pretty easily. It’s nothin’ to feel bad about, I promise. Humans aren’t built to resist life’s basic needs, so I don’t know why the big man in the clouds gets so wound up about it all the time.”

How dare he.

“Damned snake!” You force your hands to beat against him and push him off. “You will not corrupt me with the Devil’s words!”

He’s actually shocked for a moment, even to your own surprise, but he laughs it off. “Geez, my bad! I guess you are pretty persistent. Must be…” He grabs the cross around your neck, ignoring your horrified gasp. “...this.”

With a sharp yank and a pinch at the back of your neck, your one remaining object of holy protection is removed.

And with its loss, his influence completely overpowers you. The clearness of your senses switches on and off.

The music is muffled. It’s too loud.

The roaming lights are blurry. Too bright.

Are you still moving? Or is your body too heavy?

“It stings a bit, but that little thing can’t do much when the wearer’s already under my control.” An unfocused image of the demon tossing your precious necklace over his shoulder, the necklace you’ve held close to you since the day you first stepped into the cathedral and accepted your role as a righteous defender of man.

Your essence is now being stolen so quickly that it makes you shiver. He shouldn’t be taking this much.

“Mmm, I can’t get enough of this,” Teeth that are too sharp brush against your neck, threatening to pierce your skin. “I’m an old guy, ya know. I’ve done a lot of experimenting over the centuries, to see what I’m into.”

There’s a rip, and your gown is being pulled down along with your wings. It only relieves you from the growing heat of your surroundings.

“Y’see, our daddy isn’t a helicopter parent. He brings us into the world and just...lets us decide what to do. So no, my words ain’t the Devil’s words. They’re just mine, honey. I live for myself.”

Tilting your head, he presses his lips against your throat, making your breath hitch. No, your body is sacred. Don’t let him do this to you.

You don’t even know when the music had changed, but you’ve noticed the club was filled with a synthetic ambiance, the colors switching to magenta and cyan.

The party demon is so captivated by you that he doesn’t even acknowledge the change in tune. “I used to stalk the depressed. Wasn’t worth it, they were too bland.” He peppers kisses down to your collarbone. “I tormented scared paranoid folk. Fun, but it loses its flavor fast.”

Your bra is removed to expose your breasts to him and the entire populace within the building. Your heart races, but the synths don’t stop seeping into your ears, the bliss wrestling with your fear.

“Shh, don’t freak out. I’ll make sure everyone forgets everything that happened tonight.” He attempts to reassure you while massaging your newly revealed mounds. “So time went on as I treated my palate to different tastes. Wasn’t long before I realized my favorite vibes were the good ones. Festivals, games, a few buddies hangin’ out,” he lowered himself and flicked your nipple with his tongue. “Or a couple fucking, I ate all of it up. And after a while I decided that I just liked people in general.”

The pleasure felt when your breast is engulfed by the heat of his mouth is shameful. Hizashi moaned at your taste, though you weren’t sure if it was the taste of your flesh or your lust that was exciting him.

“I liked it when humans were having good times, so I figured out how to join in on the fun and damn, how do you guys keep finding new ways to rock out? The prudes keep droning on about how my favorite type of people have lost their way, but I think they’re the ones who found paradise, and they’re not even dead yet!” After nursing on both of your breasts, he rises and grabs your face to turn it toward the crowd. “I mean, just look at how these guys – oh.”

‘Oh’ indeed.

The people were no longer dancing. They were grabbing at each other, at men and women they probably didn’t even know, tearing apart clothes in a vicious urge to fornicate right there on the dancefloor. Some of them were already completely nude. You avert your eyes to stare at your feet instead.

Hizashi cleared his throat. “Whoops. Look what ya made me do, angel. My lust got the best of me!” He held you close while watching the horrid act before him. You’re trying to move your heavy arms to cover your bare body. “No wonder I’m feeling so horny. Think I should make them stop?”

It takes effort to nod your head.

His lip sticks out in an exaggerated pout before going, “Nah. It’s been a long time since I’ve seen an orgy. I bet this is a first for you.”

Something tickles your hips, your eyes wandering over to see the arrow-like point of his tail curling around your white panties, tugging them down.

Part of you already knows that Hizashi is allowing you to struggle for his own amusement. With all of your protection gone, he can easily stop you from swatting at the flexible limb as it brings your final article of clothing down to your ankles.

Wearing nothing but the small strap around your wrist, you want so badly to curl up and hide yourself. You were completely bare on a stage with a demon quietly taking in your form. The contrasting feelings of anxiety and calm threaten to tear your psyche in half.

“Given how anal you guys are about chastity, I think it’s safe to say no one’s ever touched you before?” The way you tense tells him enough. “Alright alright, relax. I’m gonna make this easy for you.”

‘How? By letting me leave?’ You want to say, but your vocal chords aren’t cooperating.

He grinned from ear to ear. “Well, no. I told ya I know everything goin’ on in that head.” He grabs you by the shoulders and places you right in front of his mixer.

There were many suggestive sounds amongst the pile of writhing bodies before you. It was the most depraved sight that you’ve ever witnessed. These people may have been sinners for their immoral pursuits, but they were still victims of a wicked creature’s influence. You wish you could apologize to all of them for failing to protect them.

Slender fingers massaged your shoulders. “Ain’t it beautiful?” He whispers hotly into your ear. “I’m not that crazy about lust, but I can’t resist when it’s coming from someone like you.”

His aura has you shackled on the spot, unable to move or even tear your eyes away from all of the sex. His voice meshes with the increasingly sensual tunes, both him and the music putting you in a deep trance that leaves every nerve in your body extra sensitive.

You’re gently pushed to lean forward until your hands are supporting yourself on the table. The leather of his clothes pressed against your back is irritating, but easily overshadowed by the hands trailing down your skin, leaving goosebumps in their wake.

“One of my favorite hobbies was hunting down faithful maidens like you. All demons love doing it, really. You can’t top raw innocence, it’s always a delicacy. It’s the closest most of us will ever get to fucking an actual angel. I managed to fuck an angel, and lemme tell ya, it’s a once in an eternity experience.”

He reaches your mound. There is still fear and an urge to pray, though it’s drowned out by the electronic harmony and all of the hot sex.

“Now she’s a fallen one that hangs out with me. Pretty little devil’s obsessed with sex now. If you’re lucky, maybe she’ll give you a visit in your sleep at midnight.”

His fingers reach your untouched folds, making you gasp. You’ve never felt so much lubrication down there before. Was that normal?

“I was really good at the whole corruption thing, so good that I caught the attention of the big holy boys. They were toughies, gotta hand it to 'em. I decided to lay low after that little showdown. That was all a preeetty long time ago.”

The demon’s voice is background noise as you watch deplorable acts that you didn’t even know existed. One woman was taking a cock into her mouth while another man pounded into her from behind. A new male approached and grabbed her free hand, wrapping her fingers around him and encouraging her to stroke him.

Three men pleasuring themselves with the same woman. They were probably complete strangers.

The repulsive sight makes you wetter.

They sure were having fun.

Hizashi hums at your arousal, sinking a digit into your folds.

“Ah,” you choke on your own voice. His other hand plays with your breast again while you’re being penetrated for the first time. Some sort of flame was growing within you, burning and pleasing at the same time.

“I thought I’ve found my place. Going place to place and bringing in crowds who just want to forget their troubles for a day and groove.”

The finger pushes through your tightly clenched walls, or at least they try to.

“Fuck, relax a bit, babe,” he groans.

You do exactly that, giving him enough leeway to push in and out at a steady pace. You don’t think about the violation, only the strange friction that has no right to feel as good as it does.

“And then you come along,” An unexpected sharp thrust causes his finger to brush against a spot that fills your vision with even more blinding lights. “It’s not like I was after you or anything. You’re a solid negative ten on the threat scale, but ya just wouldn’t leave me alone!” He relentlessly hits the spot again, and again, until you’re crying out and your legs are shaking. “Then you waltz in here and try to ruin my favorite night of the year?

He’s able to hide his anger as he speaks, but fails to keep it from entering his possessed victims. The orgy becomes more violent, all of the people looking no more civil than savages in torn rags as they try to dominate and fuck each other senseless.

It affects you as well, going by how annoyed you’re getting by his rambling. Can’t he just focus on pleasing you?

His finger leaves you too soon, your cunt already missing the brand new sensations. “Sorry, babe,” he says when he releases you and begins to undo his pants. “Normally I’d spend more time warming up, but I gotta join in on the raunchiness now before I go nuts. Just...do me a favor.”

You whined, wiggling your hips and rubbing your ass against his freed cock. He only chuckles at your impatience.

“Slow your roll, I’ll get started as soon as you push that button riiiight there.”

You push one of the many glowing buttons, and stock phrases are shouted out of the speakers.

“No, the one next to it.”

You press it, and another song begins.

Hizashi hums in approval. “I usually do a smooth transition between songs, but…”

A hard impact knocks you forward with the overwhelming feeling of being completely filled all at once. The stretch and pressure has your mouth hanging open in a silent scream.

“....Yeah, I just wanted to do that. And-” He yanks the halo off your head and drops it at your feet. “-I always loved the symbolism in that.”

He wastes no time building up. You’re being pounded as hard and consistently as the energetic beat. It should hurt, but the euphoric state of your mind dulls any pain and discomfort.

With the demon inside both your head and your womanhood, there was no saving yourself. Your prayers wouldn’t even be heard through this thick depraved fog.

“Oh fuck yeah,” He growls loudly with his wild thrusts, hands gripping your hips tightly enough to bruise. “I’ve been missing out. So hooked on the party life that I don’t even remember how it feels to eat up a modest little soul like this.”

Was he still devouring you? You can’t even tell, not while you’re trapped in this melodic dreamworld as his cock rams you.

“Ya mind if we do this again sometime?” He angled himself to ensure he was hitting that sweet spot with each rhythmic pump. Despite his aggression, his hips moved with musical purpose. “Not like you’re much of a priest anymore. You’re fuckin’ a demon, sweetheart. I think the pearly gates have closed for you.”

That sounds sad and all, but God does he feel good. The entire moment was feeling like a hallucination. Your world was saturated with fuzzy images and muffled bass as your virgin pussy was ravaged. The tightened heat in your core was growing hotter by the second.

Hizashi just wouldn’t stop talking even as he became short of breath. “Ah, don’t worry, my doors are always open to misfits!” His rhythm falters a bit when you give him an especially tight squeeze. “Ya like that? I can always wipe your memory of tonight along with everyone else’s, and you can head back home. I just don’t think your next visit to the house of God is gonna end well.”

How does he expect you to care with the way he’s plowing into you?

His arms wrap around you in an embrace. “No pressure, angel. You can decide later. For now, just enjoy the show.”

And finally, he shut up and focused on fucking your divine lights out.

With his pelvis flush against your ass, Hizashi humps with newfound vigor, his thrusts rapid yet precise enough to keep stimulating your most sensitive areas.

The blinding stars in your eyes make it impossible to even make out what’s happening in front of you. A shame, because you want to know if you’re being dicked down as good and hard as the whores on the dancefloor.

The demon may not be talking anymore, but he was still being very vocal about his pleasure with feral moans and growls right into your ear.

An extra hard slam forces you to nearly topple onto the controls, hands scrambling to keep you upright and hitting several buttons in the process.

A series of sounds and distortion effects are added to the song.

It unexpectedly riles him up. “Shit, that wasn’t a bad mix, angel. I might have a junior DJ in the making,” he praises.

The tempo changes - different speed and new layers - and Hizashi follows suit by switching his quick bucks into deep thrusts.

The fire inside was close to doing...something. You weren’t sure what it was or what exactly will happen if this lasts any longer, but part of you knows that it’s about to feel very good.

With the head of his dick striking you nice and deep, you quickly learn that you were right.

The explosion of spasms was too pleasurable to even comprehend, each contraction tearing filthy screams from your throat. Hizashi bursts soon afterwards and fills you up with a cry even more lewd than yours.

Just like that, your mind is freed and the weight of his aura is lifted...and you feel gravely tired.

A coldness sweeps over you and saps every ounce of your strength. You find yourself dropping to your knees and falling over as a distant voice expresses genuine worry.

“Oh.......I overfed.” Though it doesn’t sound as panicked as it should.

You don’t want to close your eyes. You fear that something terrible might happen if you do, but your eyelids are quickly becoming too heavy to fight.

“Really sorry, little priest! I didn’t mean to! Look at the bright side - my friends are gonna love ya down there! Home isn’t half as bad as those books make it out to be!”

Each word sounds fainter than the last, but you still catch each one.

Home?

Your eyes shut.

And the remains of your soul become stained with ash and black before heading downwards into the demonic realm.

Welcome home.

#smut #present mic #yamada hizashi #present mic x reader #broke: EDM is soulless #woke: EDM steals souls #tw noncon #tw death #tw mind control

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missinghan · 4 years

Text

what if we ⤖ lee minho

❖ genre : college au; roommates au

❖ word count : 4,1k.

❖ warning : explicit language

❖ summary : Minho is more than fed up with your nonsense of not having a roommate until you graduate because he’s desperately in need of a new place after getting kicked out.

❖ a/n : the continuation of roommate lino is out now!

one.

Minho takes dreadful strides into M.I.A Cafe, completely waterlogged from head to toe like a wet rat, drained from trying to walk back home without an umbrella—even if he had one, the wind would have taken him along with it on an exhilarating ride while Poseidon is throwing a rampage at Zeus or whatever gods up there.

He slumps into the nearest seat possible, sinking deeply into the cushioned surface only to stain the blue velvet with his sodden leather jacket. Anyone else happening upon the scene might notice a more than average looking college kid; Minho’s mesmerizing, he really is. But not just because of his catlike smile or stupidly good hair without even trying, it’s also because he’s the president of the dance club despite being a business major. It’s not hard for him to gain even more attention since he works at the cafe on campus anyway.

However, all Woojin sees from overlooking his workplace is his idiotic coworker who left ten minutes ago has officially given up on going against the bloody family feud above and come back to make his life miserable. Kang is going to give him shit for the wet cushions because Minho’s shift has fortunately ended. And it only gets worse from there. The younger boy pushes himself off the chair and flings his dripping bangs away from his face before taking off his jacket, deciding it’s a good idea to sway it back and forth, splashing water all over the clean floor.

“Lee Minho,” Woojin raises his voice slightly but Minho simply ignores his threatening tone and stuffs his leather jacket into his backpack.

The brunet makes his way over to the countertop, hopping effortlessly onto one of the bar stools. “I would like a Vietnamese coffee, please,” Minho shows his friend those ridiculous looking sparkly eyes like he just stepped out from an anime, and Woojin forces a smile through gritted teeth. “Come on, I’m tired, don’t look at me as if I’m in charge of the weather or something.”

Woojin remains silent, and so does his death glare. Hence, Minho gives in and props his head onto his hand lazily. “Fine, just give me a hot chocolate, I’m freezing over here,” he shivers stoically as his brain is multitasking (yelling at him and considering his options at the same time). With the sky roaring as if it’s raging on with other supernatural forces, Minho isn’t overly fond of heading outside by himself again. Meaning, plan A: get a ride or plan B: stay with Woojin until his graveyard shift is over. Minho’s having an eight AM tomorrow and he’s not about to walk up to the nurse’s office with a broken ankle for skipping three steps at a time. But in what world would a guardian angel appear out of nowhere to drive him home?

A random Twitter notification pops up and he swipes it away dejectedly, wholly uninterested. When Woojin slides the paper cup across the countertop, he catches a glimpse of Minho’s lock screen and gasps as if he just saw something out of the ordinary. It’s not. “You replaced your cats’ photo with Y/N’s instead? Okay, I see you, you sly little bitch,” he chuckles creepily while wiping his hand onto the white apron.

“It’s temporary,” Minho sneers like a cat having someone step on its tail. “Besides, she hates it, that’s why I put it there.”

“Yeah yeah, keep telling yourself that.”

Woojin is making a big deal out of this as if it’s a picture of you cuddling Minho or something. But in reality, it’s just a really ugly photo of you taking too big of a bite when he decided to flex his paycheck and took you out to a pizzeria. You forgave him because 1) you had the opportunity to eat real pizza after months of stocking up frozen ones from the supermarket, and 2) it’s only a matter of time until he’s over it and returns to his typical photos of his cats at home.

“Yo,” Minho says after a sip of the hot beverage. “You’re moving out of Seungmin’s next week?”

Woojin replies, silently appreciating one of the rare civil conversations with his friend. “Yep, you? Don’t tell me that you haven’t found a place yet,” he stops himself right there, only to be met with complete dead silence. “Wait, you’re kidding, right? Aren’t you getting kicked out on Monday? How are you gonna find a place within three days?”

“Tough luck?” Minho shrugs nonchalantly, staring rather deeply at his lock screen, and an idea pops up inside his head. He feels the need to kick himself because he should have thought of this sooner. Biting his lower lip, he’s slightly nervous when his thumb taps onto your name in his contact. It’s not like you’re gonna rip his head off, why is he so jumpy about this anyway?

His train of thoughts get cut off when your raspy voice rings through his eardrums, “What do you want?”

two.

Your white Rover pulls up in front of the cafe after five minutes of cursing at him through the phone while dragging yourself out of bed and another ten to drive to your unwanted destination.

“Get in before I rip your head off,” you deadpan, pushing your bangs away from your face.

“I love you, did you know that?” Your heart totally didn’t skip a beat at that. He didn’t mean it, he couldn’t have meant it. It was lighthearted, it sounded lighthearted but was it supposed to be lighthearted? Great, now your heart just gives up on you while your brain is harassing you with some stupid assumptions without valid shreds of evidence.

Minho smiles sheepishly at you after waving to Woojin—who isn’t very interested in his departure and enters your car in relief. Although you were doing nothing but spitting strings after strings of curse words at him, it genuinely made him feel at ease when he heard your voice through the phone, hanging by three percent of battery left.

“Also, spill the hot chocolate, and I’m gonna throw you on the highway,” you warn him before starting the engine. The only problem with your morbid remarks is that Lee Minho is exclusively immune to them because he too, shares the same amount of insanity with you like how you both shared a sad tuna sandwich last Tuesday when the school canteen tried to recreate a Chipotle bowl. You both tasted it. And you were offended.

Minho tosses his backpack to the backseats and replies in monotone, “I won’t, just don’t kill us. That’s all I’m asking from you.” He looks awfully good for someone who’s completely rain-soaked. How fucking unfair.

“That’s all?” you question without looking at him in the eye. He only hums a random melody from a song that you can’t quite remember before plugging his phone in with your speakers. Your face morphs into a frown at his vague reaction, “Usually one thing leads to another, you never ask me for a single favor and just leave me alone, are you sure that you didn’t forget your wallet and now you wanted a new tattoo?”

He breaks into a fit of giggles at that, three are already enough for his ancestors to haunt him in his sleep. And your heart magically comes back more alive than ever at the sound; it really needs to stop doing that before you’re found dead on the street just by talking to him on the phone or something. “It’s not that,” Minho scratches the nape of his neck. “I’m basically gonna be homeless next week if I don’t manage to find a new place in like...three days.”

The car grows silent for a second there before Didn’t know me by Heize starts blasting through the speakers when he puts one of his playlists on random. You look over at him deep in the eye, thinking rather thoroughly about this. And Minho starts feeling knots in his stomach when you avert your gaze back onto the road. Are you perhaps...mad at him?

“Don’t-even-think-about-it,” you deadpan. “You know how Yeji pleaded to move in with me after freshman year, and..failed miserably.”

“Come on! You can’t be this heartless, are you really gonna let me sleep on the sidewalk for a good three weeks?”

You click your tongue in annoyance while making a turn to the left. “I never said that you moron,” An eye roll soon follows your statement, and before Minho can even say anything, his mouth snaps shut, eyes wide. “You know that Chan lives alone right?”

He protests, “Chan always let Changbin and Jisung crash to make music. Besides, it’s a studio apartment, like hello? I’m not planning on losing my beauty sleep here. ”

“Woojin?”

“After the mess I made back there? He will murder me, Y/N,” Minho says without a single shred of fear in his voice, yet he’s giving you those Puss in Boots eyes as if he’s gonna let Woojin snap his head off that easily. Jeongin is still living on campus, and Minho would rather be sleeping with dead rats than sharing a room with Jisung because Seungmin would never let him step a foot onto his white carpet.

You scrunch your nose and ignore the golden specks in his eyes, “You didn’t even try asking him, I’m sure he wouldn’t mind housing you for a few weeks. He’s a good guy and definitely doesn’t hate your ass enough to not let you sleep in the living room.”

“But,” he pouts sadly, in which you’re completely unaffected by. But here’s what makes your chest swell. “I like spending time with you,” he mumbles under his breath. Huh? Your heart rate falls flat before coming back to thunder inside your chest cavity twice as fast. Did he really just-

Minho sighs, and suddenly his shoulders start getting heavy. He feels rejected, but he shouldn’t since it’s not mandatory for you to let him stay with you. Perhaps, he’s nothing but a complete nuisance in your eyes after all. “But if you say so,” he murmurs, eyes turning stormy and you can feel a pit at your stomach. “I guess I’m gonna call Woojin then..”

And he ends the conversation there, abruptly.

Raindrops knocking at your car’s windows. The sounds of his fingers tapping against the keyboard. Even your own rhythm of breathing. Everything’s piling onto your back as if you’ve just committed a terrible sin.

Woojin is really busy this year, preparing for grad school and everything. And your current courses are pretty easy to handle, it’d be mean of you to let him contain Lee Minho while working two jobs. Especially when he’s constantly turning in assignments at a single minute right before the deadline. So with the little amount of morality left, you tell yourself to stop being a little bitch and start considering the possibilities of having a roommate for the very first time.

“Fine,” you grumble after a good twenty seconds of thinking. “You can use my old air mattress, a month should be good before you’re able to find a new place. So we’re taking turns washing the dishes and splitting the bills in half, cool?”

Minho’s brain suddenly demands every part of his body to stop, his finger hovering over the ‘send’ button. “Gee okay, I get it, you don’t like having roommates. But you don’t have to be so pressed about it,” he concludes almost too fast for your brain cells to comprehend what’s going on in his mind. Was he even listening to you? “I knew you weren’t gonna let me stay with—“ His words instantly come to a halt, eyeballs ready to pop out of their respective sockets any second.

“What?” he blurts, round eyes staring right at you expectantly.

You scratch your nose with your ring finger when a coral tint rises on your cheekbones, something that you do a lot whenever you’re nervous. “I said you can come and stay with me for the time being,” you say lamely, having a spontaneous interest in the row of Sumikko Gurashi figures that Minho gave you on your birthday last year. “I don’t want you to poison Woojin with your cooking, roomie.”

“You’d better feed me then, Ramsay,” he beams with a bright smile—far brighter than the Sun itself and any of the stars above. And who were you kidding? It’s not his cooking that you’re worrying about. It’s not even Woojin that you’re worrying about. It’s him, you’re worried about him.

Besides, maybe you like spending time with him too.

three.

After a whole night of hauling three gigantic cardboard boxes along with two suitcases into your apartment, you drag Minho’s ass out of bed at nine in the morning, push him into your car and slowly reverse out of your apartment’s parking lot.

He’s not very attentive to his surroundings when he’s tired so he didn’t mind the monotonous voice of the news reporter coming out of the speakers. Whereas, he would have yelled at you by now to shut it off so he can blast his Spotify playlist at maximum volume to annoy people who apparently don’t know how to park their cars properly. Still, he only finished unpacking half of his luggage at four so it didn’t occur to him how little time he spent half-sleeping against your car’s window.

It didn’t occur to him how you managed to maneuver him out of the vehicle either. But when his eyes start hurting from rubbing them too much, Minho realizes that you’re piloting him through an old couple shopping hand in hand, a sweaty man in his mid-forties wearing a tracksuit and a child tugging at his mom’s skirt, begging for a lollipop. He gazes downward, eyes stop dead in their tracks seeing your hand intertwined with his while your free one is scrolling through the list of groceries on your phone.

“Good morning, Sleeping Beauty, glad that you’re finally awake,” the amount of sarcasm laced in your tone just makes the blush on his cheeks disappear in the span of half a second.

Minho makes a face and pulls his hand back to grab a cart, trailing after your footsteps grimly like an obedient puppy. “Waking up early was not in the contract,” he lets out the loudest yawn possible without covering his mouth, no manners whatsoever. “That lawsuit for child labor? Pending.”

You chuckle dryly and toss a box of oatmeal cookies into the cart, not really caring that he’s sleepy and tired. You’re the one who’s driving after all. “It technically is,” you say with a meek smile and turn around, watching him throw in a bag of popcorn, barbecue flavored chips, and other junks that scream college staple food. He told you that he’s making use of the school’s gym five times a week but seeing the amount of trash that’s piling up, you doubt that his efforts are gonna matter at this point.

“I told you that we’re grocery shopping every Monday morning because we both don’t have classes on Monday mornings.”

Minho only groans loudly like a damsel in distress until you both reach the vegetable aisle. He immediately goes for the asparagus and broccoli, probably to water down the amount of sodium from the chips.

You’re not sure if it’s just because he’s sleepy but the rest of your banter while raiding the supermarket is fairly civil. In short, it’s the most normal conversation you’ve ever had with him. Not that you’re complaining, it's actually really nice to see how he also has a soft side to him. Not only did Minho grab the chicken breasts for Chan because that guy cannot live without them, but he also called Changbin to check which flavor of the protein bar that he prefers. It seems like he’s gonna crash at Chan’s place for an upcoming secret project.

When you both queue up at the self-checkout line, he observes the light blue packaging of your shampoo curiously. He notices how you stopped getting the twelve ounces bottle and went for the twenty-four ounces one instead.

“You’re still using this one? I thought you said you wanted to change it up every time?” He asks, propping his head onto your shoulder lazily. Minho remembers how you started to try out this brand three months ago and he laughed his ass off at you for being so determined to go through all of their scents. It’s dumb, yes, but he commented on every single one of them anyway.

“Hello? Earth to Y/N?”

Your body tenses up when he sniffs at your hair, nose brushing against the back of your ear, and it’s not helping either when his forearms are resting against the lines of your waist so he can hold onto the cart while you’re too busy bombarding Yeji with questions about the frat party she attended last night. You’re basically trapped between him and the cart; you can’t believe you’re only realizing that just now.

“Hold up, I thought you usually go grocery shopping alone?” Yeji flips the table and inquires slyly on the other line, then she lets out an audible gasp. It’s so loud that Minho staggers backward from surprise, almost hitting the cart behind. “Is that Lee Minho?! Y/N, what are you two doing at the Asian market at ten AM? Together?!”

Words spill out of your mouth before you can even process them properly. “We saw each other coincidentally and ended up using the same cart.” And now you want to put your head through a wall because what kind of an answer was that? Your brain had to malfunction at that very moment, in the middle of that very call, it just had to. “Okay, whatever, I’ll tell you about it tomorrow during Park’s lecture, see you,” you hang up just like that, not knowing how to act because now you have to tell Yeji about how you—a complete loner—is finally having a roommate. But that roommate isn’t her specifically.

“You good? You look a bit..feverish,” Minho rests a hand on your forehead while his free one pushes the cart forward. Still in a daze, your heart shudders, and your back accidentally comes in contact with his chest, making you drop your phone onto the carton of eggs in a panic. “Careful there, that’s two months worth of eggs,” he reminds you, clearly not having a single clue of how giddy you are right now.

Also, saying that you’re giddy is an understatement.

You shake your head and mutter, “Right, sorry, you were saying?”

“I just asked why you stopped trying the rest of the scents and committed to April Cotton so easily.”

“It’s because you said it’s the best one so far,” you answer honestly, almost too honestly because right now, Minho feels like someone’s using his heart to juggle right inside his chest cavity.

four.

That night, after Minho’s monstrous shift at the cafe and three hours of you FaceTiming Yeji to procrastinate about a writing assignment, you both are sprawled across your white fuzzy carpet that sheds more than three of his cats combined.

In between is an empty cup of McFluffy, a sad piece of pepperoni pizza and leftover fries, all being placed on a piece of newspaper because Minho’s promised you that if he ever dirtied your carpet, he’d take you to a concert. His bank account isn’t ready for that yet. A Dog’s Way Home just ended two minutes ago and as the ending credits roll, you’re all curled up inside your over-sized hoodie, sniffling into a piece of tissue.

“Day one with your new roommate here and you’re already shedding tears Jesus Christ,” Minho tells you after stretching his limbs out tiredly, eyes becoming droopy.

“Shut up,” you punch his arm and laugh, wiping the remaining of your tears with your sleeves. “I swear I saw your eyes watering when Bella reunited with Big Kitten.”

“They did not?” He shoots you a shit-eating grin when he settles back down onto the floor, supporting his head with his hands. To be fair, the CGI was kinda shitty, a little bit noticeable but the reunion was too emotional for him to care about something as meaningless as that.

Minho ignores how you’re mumbling something and instead, turns onto his side and grabs a piece of fries, chewing obnoxiously. “So, Y/N,” he inquires rather cautiously. “How does it feel like to finally have good company along with good food?”

You hum for a while but answer with little consideration, eye closed, “I could use someone with a smaller mouth, and a smaller ego too but yeah, it’s kinda dope.” And you open one side of your eyes to see him being the literal CTRL+V of the surprised Pikachu meme. He looks betrayed, as if someone just sneaked into your apartment and snatched all of his packets of instant ramen in one go, just like whoosh, out the door they go with his daily breakfast.

“It feels kinda nice too,” you proceed to continue, staring at the ceiling to avoid eye contact with him. “Because I know although this person acts like an asshole most of the time, he’s just a really big softie on the inside. I like how he called his friends in the middle of his shopping trip to see if he’s getting them the right flavor of protein bars, how he paid for the groceries even though we’re equally broke, and how he skipped dance practice to volunteer at a nursing home every weekend.”

You’re not looking, but you’re pretty sure that Minho’s smile is growing so big, his cheeks are about to crack in half. “I didn’t tell anyone about that,” he stifles a laugh. “It’s either you’re somewhat a creep or you’re just really cautious about what kind of people you let into your life.”

“I’m a loner, what can I say?” You chuckle lightheartedly, feeling slightly fuzzy inside for no particular reason. “I am really cautious when it comes to stuff like that because the more you let people into your life, the more it hurts when they decide they’re gonna leave you.”

“Hah! So that’s why you’re so stubborn about the whole not having a roommate thing?” You nod sheepishly at that, feeling kinda embarrassed because it feels like he’s unraveling your secrets right under your nose.

The signature catlike smile lingers on his lips when you turn on your right to face him, and your useless heart thinks it’s a good time to skip a beat when your eyes meet his round ones with ridiculously beautiful lashes. You’ve never felt like this towards anyone before, it’s risky, you know it but you think you can trust him. You can trust Lee Minho.

Although he wasn’t this big, sassy persona that has a questionable obsession with cats and dancing when you first met him. You encountered Minho for the very first time backstage at the school’s music festival to support 3RACHA’s performance. Initially, he made absolutely no effort to even greet you like how a civil human being would, but he was intrigued when he saw the SpiderMan plush keychain on your backpack. And it seemed like fate was only trying to push both of you closer together because you kept bumping into him on campus. So it’s only a matter of time before he decided that he hated eating lunch alone and asked for the empty seat next to you, offering you his watered-down cup of coffee.

“What made you change your mind then? Why not just reject me?” Minho scoots closer to you, eyes sparkling with anticipation.

“Because I feel like..you won’t be leaving me anytime soon..”

“Damn right, I can never stop bothering you.”

You don’t know where, how, or why you can muster every fiber of courage left inside of you to tell him that. But that doesn’t matter now, does it? Maybe this is a sign, the universe wants you to stop being so closed up all the time and open up to new people (regardless of how shitty you think they are) because life’s way too short to play the role of the lone traveler on this planet. And it’s madness to think that all it took this boy was half a cup of Vietnamese coffee and a call at such an ungodly hour for your heart to be completely his. Nothing’s gonna change much, you think. You’re gonna still free-fall into this hellhole called ‘college’ with your first world problems like everyone else but the only difference is that you don’t have to be alone anymore. There’s a hand for you to hold, a shoulder for you to lean on and your heart has found its new home. You don’t think you’ve ever felt it being so alive before. However, you’re not against it even when you’re still dubious.

Because that’s how you’re supposed to feel your entire life.

❖ p/s : I hope you enjoyed this little monster that I managed to whip up in the past few days, I thought it’d be nice if I could give you guys smth as a “parting gift” for my [rest]. I was very, very sleep-deprived as I proofread this so please don’t come for me & I’ll see you in the next fic!

#stayshub #skzwritersclub #stray kids lee know #stray kids scenarios #lee know imagines #stray kids imagines #stray kids minho #minho roommate au #minho college au #lino fic #lee minho #lee know #lee know scenarios #college au #roommate au

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divineluce · 3 years

Text

Research Reunion || Orion & Luce

Timing: May 11th, 2021

Tagging: @3starsquinn & @divineluce

Location: The Scribrary

Description: Who else would know phoenixes better than a Scribe? Luce goes to Rio for help-- third time’s the charm. Right?

Grabbing her backpack from the passenger seat of her car, Luce glanced up at the Scribary. She remembered the last time she’d been here, vividly, in fact. She’d been asking Rio for help that day too. Help for… Swallowing, she slid the backpack over her shoulder, keenly aware of the books inside. They were the one she’d borrowed from Rio, months and months ago. Books about ghosts, about exorcisms. She’d poured over every single page, trying to figure out how she could do something. And in the end, she hadn’t even been able to help. She’d failed. Nadia was safe, but no thanks to her. It was like how Remmy was safe, how Bea was safe-- by virtue of being nowhere near this town, they were safe. Luce made her way to the door of Scribe HQ and knocked on the door. “Hey. I need your help.” She said, not looking at Rio. The last time they’d seen each other… She didn’t want to think about that. Instead, she awkwardly held up her backpack, “I’ve also got some overdue books.”

Orion hadn’t expected to hear from Luce. The two hadn’t seen each other since everything with Lydia. And the last that he had heard from her was the alcoholic apology for punching him. Rio just hadn’t been sure which time specifically she had been apologizing for. Maybe it was meant as a catch all. Broken cheek bone aside, getting punched was nowhere near the reason that Rio expected the two hadn’t seen each other since the incident. The whole situation with Lydia… it still weighed on Rio. People had died. Instead of getting to help, Rio had been promise bound into hurting his sister and friends all in an attempt to help a serial killer escape. He still hadn’t forgiven himself for being so naive. At the end of the day, Rio and Luce had never been particularly close. She was more like the sister of the best friend of the person Rio had been dating. Familiar with each other by extension, acquaintances by association. “Hi there.” Rio held the door open, scratching the back of his neck as a nervous tick while conveniently covering half of his face with his arm. Just the memory of Luce made his face throb. “I really hope we can do introductions without the uh- punching thing this time.” Rio smiled innocently, though the joke sounded more like a genuine plea than anything a normal person would laugh at. But if there was anything that could get Rio out of that funk it was the mention of his books. “Really?! That’s amazing. That means I can take you off my list. Come on, follow me we can head back to the library.” Rio waved her inside and started off down the winding hallways, “So uh- it’s been a while. How ya been?”

Grimacing at the memories of how she’d… greeted him in the past, Luce offered a tight lipped smile. “Nope. No punching this time.” She said. Christ. He was just a fucking kid. And she’d fucking clocked him. Twice. She needed to work on that. She needed to work on a lot of things, but decking kids was definitely on the list. Slipping the bag off her shoulder, Luce pulled out two of the thick leather bound books and tossed them to Rio. “Yep, right here. Ghosts and Ghouls and Diaries of an Exorcist. Real light reading.” She said before squinting in slight confusion. “A list?” She echoed as she followed him inside. The hallway seemed a bit brighter than the last time she’d been here and she realized there were lights installed along the halls. Lights that hadn’t been there before-- Winston’s handiwork, she realized. Winston must have fixed the place up before she left. Yet another person who was better off away from here.

Shrugging, she mulled over her response. Out of magic. Out of people to turn to. Which is why she was here, why she’d talked to Leah. “Keeping on keeping on. Just trying to fix some shit, that’s all. What about you?” She asked.

It felt like there were a million books in the Scribrary. Far too many for Orion to ever truly miss a random ghost book that Luce had borrowed a few months back. Still, there was something oddly comforting about knowing that one was going to be back where it belonged and he could mark it off the list. “Oh yeah. I sort of started a list. Like a book check out system, so that I can keep a better track where the books are. If I can’t find one I start to get stressed, so it’s a bit calming to know which ones are in someone else’s hands.” Rio shrugged following the explanation. Even he knew that it seemed a little over the top, but considering people had found their way in before without his knowledge he also thought it’d be a good idea to keep track just in case a book disappeared that he hadn’t lent out. Farther down the hallway, he couldn’t help himself from making further conversation, “For the record, what I said earlier? When you first got here? Totally a joke. I don’t blame you for either time you-” Rio held up a fist and motioned towards his face. “Just so you know.”

Rio wondered what Luce meant by that. What exactly was she trying to fix? It probably had something to do with what she was doing here asking for his help. “Good to hear.” Rio answered regardless. It hadn’t been the most positive answer, but keeping on was about as good as it got in White Crest, “Loaded question. I guess I’m alright, all things considered. It’s just been a long year already.” He didn’t want to bother Luce with all of his issues. It was just depressing and sad, “But I’m glad you dropped by. I’m happy to help with whatever you need.”

“Huh. Guess that makes sense.” Luce said, because it did on some level. She’d never liked books, never really cared much for anything that she couldn’t listen to or see or feel. But it made sense for Rio to keep track of shit. They continued down the hallway in relative silence, Luce aware of how fucking awkward it all was. She’d never really given a shit about Rio. Which was a pretty terrible thing, but it was true. Rio wasn’t someone she’d bothered to get to know-- he was just Winston’s boyfriend. But, he wasn’t just that, was he? He’d been there, that day… he’d seen what she’d done. He’d stood between her and Lydia and she hadn’t cared. And fuck. He was… human. Innocent. “You should. I shouldn’t have punched you. Either time.” She said, her voice dull, sounding almost as numb as she felt. The memories of that day still haunted her. Day and night, what she’d done, it stayed with her.

“Yeah.” Luce said offhandedly. “I feel that. A long fucking year already.” It was hard to believe that a single year had passed since she’d been pulled from her cabin by her parents, forced to live with Bea and Nell. Now, she would give almost anything to even see her parents, let alone argue with them over whether it was really necessary for her to live with her sisters as a grown ass adult. Clearing her throat as they entered a room lined with shelves crammed full of books, “Great. I’m looking for books on phoenix’s. Specifically stuff on what can cause corruption. I reached out to,” Luce paused, not knowing if Rio was exactly on the up and up with Leah, “someone who knows about phoenix’s, but they didn’t know much either.”

It was obvious from her tone that Luce didn’t want to talk about it. Orion couldn’t claim that he wanted to talk about it either. It was awkward. Especially with someone he didn’t actually know well. “I mean the first time was just a misunderstanding. I can’t fault you for looking out for Winston.” Rio shrugged. He hadn’t loved it when it had happened. And he had mostly wished that Luce would have given him at least a minute to try to explain himself before she chose to punch him instead. But Rio and Luce weren’t super close. Luce cared about Winston and owed nothing to Rio. “I can’t say I would have done the same, but that’s just because I’m very non confrontational. I’d rather silently second guess from afar.” The second time was an entirely different story. “And we all know that I wasn’t in control with Lydia. You had to do what you had to do. If anyone should be apologizing it’s me. I threw a knife at you.” The reminder of it flashed through his head. The snapping of Athena’s arm. The air whistling as the knife flew and landed in the back of Luce’s leg. He blinked the images away and tried to focus again. “I’m just saying, neither one was exactly unmotivated.”

Inside the library, Rio was able to breathe a tiny bit easier. Something about the place calmed him. Maybe being here with Luce was not any less awkward than it was in the hallway, but it felt less claustrophobic. Physically and mentally. “Phoenixes?” Rio repeated, crossing his arms and giving a huff as he tried to consider what might be useful. “Honestly? There’s not a ton of information on them in the Scribrary. I have a theory, but can’t really prove it. But I think maybe one of them knew enough about their past lives to take the books that were stored here. Or the Phoenixes that worked as Scribes never trusted them enough with the knowledge.” All of that was speculation, a theory mostly beginning when he learned that Leah’s past life had been involved with the Scribes. Part of Rio wanted to question Luce’s source. Given her sister’s relationship with Leah, it made sense that Leah directly might be the source. But he didn’t have any interest in outing the woman if Luce wasn’t privy to that knowledge. Leah was actually starting to trust Rio, despite his hunter heritage. He didn’t want to give her any reason to jeopardize that. “But I definitely have some stuff on them. Follow me.”

“I should have stopped to think. To ask questions, get some straight answers.” Luce replied dully, her boots falling heavily against the solid stone pavers of the building. How fucking old was this place anyways, she wondered absently. It seemed older than the town itself. “I should have done a lot of shit differently.” She said, but grimaced at Rio’s next words. You had to do what you had to do. No. She’d done much more than that. She remembered the way she’d set fire to innocent bystanders, people caught in the crossfire of a world they weren’t even aware of. She could feel the flames curl and crackle against their skin. She could remember the way rage and fear had coursed through her. “Sure. They weren’t unmotivated.” But they were motivated for the wrong fucking reasons.

Glancing around at the massive store of books, Luce had a hard time believing that the Scribes didn’t have much on the subject of Phoenix’s. They had to have something. They had to have information. Or else… what was Luce going to do? Give up. Go back to Adam and tell her she wasn’t the right person for the job. Her magic was gone, her sister was gone, her family had abandoned her for what she was. And now, she couldn’t-- she couldn’t even find a goddamn book. Luce wrapped her arms around herself as she listened to him, as though she could hold all the remains of who she was together. “Alright. Makes sense to me. Theories and stuff aren’t my wheelhouse, but sure. Lead the way.” She nodded.

Unable to argue that, Orion just shrugged. At the time, he had certainly wished that Luce had stopped to question Rio on the topic or tried to give him the benefit of the doubt. Partially because he didn’t enjoy getting punched in the face, but mostly because he had hoped that he ame off friendly and pleasant enough that Luce might have questioned the misunderstanding entirely. He had to remind himself that the two had not been friends at the time. He wasn’t even sure what they were now. “Yeah. Well I get that much. I would have done a lot differently too.” Like never promise a random woman that he would protect her at all costs. The only problem was that he wasn’t sure he would have done anything different. He still wanted to give people the benefit of the doubt. He just couldn’t help himself from making stupid decisions.

Rio didn’t waste any time leading her to the few materials that he had found on phoenixes. Most were journals by other scribes talking about their experience with them, though there were a few self-collected bestiaries that almost devoted a small section to them. Certainly not as vast as some of the more common supernatural creatures. Books about vampires or werewolves took up multiple bookshelves, while mentions of Phoenixes fit neatly on a single row. “I guess theories and stuff is sort of my area of expertise. If you want to call it that.” He honestly wasn’t sure what he would describe as his ‘wheelhouse’. When he got to the shelf, and pulled off a book and started flipping through it, “So if there’s anything about them it’s probably here. Feel free to start flipping through some of them. What kind of corruption do you mean?”

“Shoulda,” Luce kicked at a broken piece of cobblestone, “Coulda,” The stone bounced and skittered across the floor ahead of her, “Woulda.” She said, a grim expression on her face. There were a lot of things she would have done differently. She wouldn’t have let herself get carried away by fear, by anger. She wouldn’t have called in a favor from a woman she hardly knew or understood. She wouldn’t have listened to the words of a kid, of a… fuck. She was more than just a kid. Athena was Rio’s sister. Christ. Rubbing her forehead, Luce followed him to a different section of the scribrary. The books here were all old, leather bound things, with worn spines. No doubt used by generations of Hunters and Scribes alike. And now… her. To try and do something good for once.

“The way I see it, you’re the expert here on books. Theories go right along with that.” She shrugged. Luce wasn’t a theory gal, wasn’t a reader, barely even gave a shit about learning things she cared about. Rubbing a hand on her arm, Luce thought back to the scene she and Adam had witnessed in the forest. The way the fires had burned an natural red, the way a curved beak had seemed to jut from the phoenix’s face, while their head remained human. Pulling another book from the shelf, she paused at an anatomical diagram of a phoenix, in both human and full form. How had the person who wrote this book figured out the anatomy? Had the phoenix in this sketch offered this knowledge? Or had it been taken? Luce cleared her throat. “The flames, they didn’t burn like normal fire. Or normal phoenix fire either. There were feathers, on fire, being shed all over the place. And they didn’t go out on their own. They just kept burning, like oil. And the flames, they didn’t look right. There was this shade of red, to them. I’ve never seen fire look like that before.” She frowned, “And I know fire.”

Listening to Luce’s description, a worried line settled across Orion’ face. “That sounds scary.” He didn’t know much about phoenixes, but that definitely didn’t sound normal. Plus, he trusted Luce if she said that it hadn’t been normal. “Definitely not something you see everyday.” Rio had a bad feeling that if the former Scribe phoenixes did know anything about this it wasn’t something that they would want stored in Scribe records for anybody in the group to see. His only hope was that something was left behind, or somebody was studying the phoenix without their knowledge. Just the thought of that made him feel gross, though. He didn’t want to operate like that. Studying someone that didn’t want their secrets out. He would be better. He had to be. “Do you think they were dangerous?”

Had it been scary? Maybe. At this point, Luce had seen so much shit in this town, done so much fucked up shit… it hadn’t really registered as scary. Which was a troubling thought-- one that she could deal with later. When she wasn’t trying to stop half the woods outside of White Crest from getting set ablaze. Shrugging, she continued to flip through her book, “Nope. Not at all. Apparently, they also were able to melt through a car. Which means they’re powerful. Real goddamn powerful.” She said, thinking back to the melted shards of glass and obsidian, the dried streambed. At Rio’s question, Luce paused. Yes, definitely. But not because they wanted to be. “They’re dangerous only because they’re out of control. Whatever happened to them, it doesn’t look like it was intentional. Magic might change someone’s appearance, but it wouldn’t be enough to alter their flames. I think they’re in trouble.” I think they’re afraid of what they’ve done. What they might do.

Orion continued flipping through his own book, but couldn’t help but glance up at Luce as she described the encounter. She sounded so casual while discussing so insanely powerful. Rio had been dealing with the supernatural his entire life and he still couldn’t quite manage to keep himself that calm. “Woah. Didn’t know that was something they could do. That’s like… insanely hot.” Rio had no idea exactly how hot, but definitely not a safe amount of hot. He realized moments too late what he had said. “Hot as in like actual temperature hot, I mean. Not like attractive hot. For the record. I mean melting a car might be very attractive. I’ve never seen it for myself.” Definitely time to focus on reading that book again. He pulled it up to try to head his reddening face and only peaked over the top to look back at Luce when she gave him the best news he had heard so far tonight. That she didn’t think it was intentional. She didn’t think they were dealing with someone evil, but someone that might need help. Now that he could get behind. “In that case, we have to find something. I want to help.”

“Sure is.” Luce said off-handedly as she read a paragraph about phoenix feathers and molting patterns. Hm. Nothing there. A bit late, she realized that Rio was sputtering over his words. Glancing up from her book, she offered a grin. “Keep it in your pants there. But no, I know what you mean. It’s real fucking hot. I’ve melted metal before, but that shit takes time. And I only did doorknobs. I could never cut something as huge as a car. Guess that’s what happens when you’re basically a living sun.” She said before going back to her book. Fuck, she hated reading. Why weren’t there like… audiobooks for this shit? Or some wise old person to tell her what was up? Well. There were plenty of wise old spell casters in town, the difference was… they just wouldn’t have anything to do with her anymore. She couldn’t exactly go to them for help. So, Rio and Leah were the next best thing. At Rio’s words, Luce looked at him again, expression pensive. “Why? This isn’t your responsibility, you don’t need to help me. Don’t get me wrong, I’m glad you are. But why?” Was he trying to ease guilt the way she was, was he trying to atone?

“Ha ha. Very funny.” Orion laugh sarcastically, thankful that Luce didn’t spend much time teasing him on the subject. Instead, she surprised him. He knew about her family's power, but he had no idea she had been strong enough to use the fire to cut metal. “That’s impressive. I guess I should have known that fire magic like that could get that powerful.” The extent of his knowledge on spellcasters came from Winston and the Vural family admittedly. The Quinn family had never partnered much with spellcasters to help catch supernatural creatures. They had always been far too proud. He hadn’t been expecting Luce to question his intentions. It took him off guard, mostly because he didn’t really know them himself. Though he had more than a few ideas. “Um… I guess I don’t know the right answer to that.” Rio shrugged, but continued to consider the question, “I guess I’ve seen a lot of bad stuff in my life? I was raised as a hunter, told that supernatural people were inherently evil and unnatural. I knew that wan’t true, but I never got a chance to help them.” More often than not, Rio had stood idly by while watching them get slaughtered. It wasn’t a feeling that Rio would soon forget, the helplessness of knowing he couldn’t stop it. The disgust at himself for not trying anyways. He had failed so many people in this town. He just didn’t want to do that anymore. “Now’s my chance. I don’t want to waste it.”

“It can.” When it works. When it wants to. “But, I couldn’t do something like that even if I wanted to.” Luce said, saying the words her brain was thinking automatically. Luce’s mouth snapped shut and she stared at Rio. Fuck. Fuck. She hadn’t meant to say that. She didn’t-- she didn’t want more people to know about this than need be. She didn’t have the protection of the coven and Bea had only just gotten back from New York, she didn’t want to add more to her sister’s plate. Same went for Nell—she didn’t want to force her baby sister to watch her back. If more people knew that Luce was without her magic, it would paint a big fucking target on her back. “I didn’t say that. You didn’t hear anything about my magic. You got it?” She asked, voice shaking slightly.

Listening to his words, Luce couldn’t help but wonder how anyone could have thought that this kid could be a hunter. He might have the genes, but there wasn’t a cruel bone in his body. “Yeah. Don’t fucking waste it.” She repeated before looking blankly back down at the book that was clutched in her hands. Any other time, the pages would be scorched and smoking in her grasp, a byproduct of her stress and anger. But the pages were only slightly crumpled under her fingers. Fuck.

Orion was left confused and concerned about Luce’s comment. It had been said so quickly that it had almost completely gone over his head completely. But a few moments after Rio’s eyes narrowed as he became perplexed by the wording. His head tilted, glancing away from the book in order to get a better look at Luce. Before he even had a chance to question her, Luce was talking again. She seemed pretty adamant that this was not something to be spoken of. Or even remembered from the sounds of it. That only concerned Rio more. “Right. Uh- didn’t hear anything.” Rio bit his lip and considered if there was anything else he should say. Adam had experienced something similar with his own abilities. Why did that thing only happen to people that actually wanted the powers? “But uh- if I did hear something, I’d definitely be there for you. Like to help figure that out. But I wouldn’t tell anyone. If I had heard anything.”

Not wasting the opportunity would be a lot easier if Rio knew what to do to help. That was the first step in helping others. Still, he appreciated Luce’s energy. It was intimidating for sure, sometimes downright scary. But it was surprisingly motivating. It made Rio want to find the answer to this more than ever. “I won’t. We’re going to help.” Rio tried remaining confident. Good vibes only. “Even if we have to write it ourselves.”

“Nope. You sure didn’t.” Luce said flatly before looking back at her book. It was useless though. She wasn’t the studying type usually and even less so when she had an audience. She glared up at him, ready to tear him a new one if he kept up on this subject. But, as she looked over at him and saw the expression on his face, she couldn’t help but sigh. She didn’t want his help, but… “We’ve got more important things to deal with than my shit. But thanks. You don’t need to, though.”

“Yeah.” She said with a nod before flicking through her book. “Whatever it takes.” Luce said quietly, the words familiar to her tongue. Not in the same context, not in the same way, but the words were just as true as they were a year ago. Whatever it takes. She’d right her wrongs, one step at a time. As she skimmed over the pages, she paused on what looked like… an ingredient list. It seemed to be talking about some kind of illness-- not corruption, exactly. But something that affected phoenix flames. “Hey. What do you think about this?” She asked, pointing at the list. “Essence of the phoenix stricken by disease. White flowered herbs found where wild creatures roam, bound with sage and lavender to purify. Tears of another freely given and,” Luce squinted at the text, “Fire. Lots of fire.”

Clearly, Luce was serious about not bringing it up. Orion continued to peak over the book at her, trying to pick up on any signs without asking. Asking wasn’t the right idea it seemed. Rio wasn’t sure that he could necessarily relate. He had always hated his abilities, had wished that they would go away. For him, losing them felt like a blessing in disguise. But for someone that seemingly liked and enjoyed the powers they had always had, it must be a lot harder. Like an extension of themselves. Rio didn’t understand, but he could guess that it must feel like losing a part of herself. “Point taken. Subject dropped.” Rio assured her, though he hoped at some point it would come up again.

Rio continued skimming through his own book until Luce pointed something out in the book she was looking through. He bent around to get a better look at the list and scanned through quickly, noting a few words that stuck out to him. “A phoenix disease? Never heard of that before. But that could make sense.” If there was ever a disease specific to phoenixes, one of the first things Rio would consider was their fire abilities and temperature. “So is the list some kind of spell? Or potion maybe?” He squinted at the list further and sighed, “They kept it pretty vague. Except for the fire part.”

At least he dropped it. That was something. Luce focused on the list-- there wasn’t much to go off of at all. It read more like an old ritual that the coven would do, one of the ancient rites that they did on a yearly basis. Big magic, powerful magic. The books Bea had kept, the ones on necromancy, they had featured lists similar to these. They were written to be vague for a reason. “It’s a spell. A potion would have more specific instructions, discussion about tinctures or timing. This is a ritual, some kind of cleansing. The sage and lavender tell me that much.” She tapped the line on the book before flipping the page. But, there were no further instructions, no other words. “Whoever wrote this, they kept their cards close to their chest. And I don’t blame them. The Scribe who figured this out, they must have worked with spellcasters and at least one phoenix. Can’t imagine either of them would have wanted the specifics of a ritual to be written out.” She said with a sigh and pulled out her phone to take a picture of the list. “I don’t know exactly what all of this means. The fire is clear and the lavender and sage are easy enough to source. The specifics of it, though. Can’t tell you.” Not for the first time, and certainly not for the last, Luce wished she was better at this. Better at all the parts of magic that she’d scorned. Because then, maybe she wouldn’t feel so lost.

Orion listened to Luce’s description intently. He was thankful to have a friend well versed on spells like that. That is what Luce was, right? A friend? Today more than ever, it seemed like there was actually a small chance of that. “Good to know.” Rio nodded, making a mental note of this in the back of his mind. He may never be involved in a spell or potion making, but he would at least remember how to tell a difference between the two, hopefully. “Big shocker there, a scribe being cryptic and vague.” He sighed. For a group dedicated to cataloguing supernatural knowledge for historical use, a lot of scribes didn’t love putting things in layman's terms. “I can’t tell you anything for sure, but I have a couple theories. That part about wild creatures. I would bet they’re referring to more than just your average wild animal. Probably somewhere with a large population of supernatural creatures. And this part,” Rio paused to look at the part about the tears of another, “Phoenix tears are supposed to be special, right? Some kind of super healer or something.”

“Witches aren’t much better. Must be a paranoid magic thing.” Luce said with a shake of her head before shutting the book. She couldn’t make heads nor tails of what it meant and, honestly, she wanted to be able to study the book on her own. It took her time to parse through magical shit, she didn’t pick up written spells and rituals quickly. “Mind if I borrow this? I’ll give it back sooner than the last batch.” She said, shaking the ancient book in her hand. “As far as what you’re saying… It makes sense, but keep looking for anything that might help. We don’t even know if this would help a phoenix who’s been corrupted. This is talking about disease, but I don’t think what we’re dealing with is a disease. I’ve got some leads I might track down, see if they can help.” She let out another sigh. “But yeah. Thanks for your help with this.”

Magic seemed fickle. Orion nodded at Luce’s statement, wondering what made it so different from hunter strength or a werewolf’s ability to turn. In the end, it was all some kind of magic, right? Some unexplained phenomenon that made people stronger or more capable than regular people. None of it made sense. But without any insight, Rio decided to just nod in agreement and leave it at that. “Yeah of course. Take whatever you want. I’ll just make a note of them before you leave. For this archive thing.” He shrugged, sure that she wasn’t interested in hearing about his attempts to modernize this ancient library. “Definitely. I’ll keep looking. Keep me updated okay? So I can help with stuff.”

Shoving the book into her backpack, Luce nodded. “I think just the one will be enough for me. It’s not exactly light reading.” She said as she shrugged on her bag. As she turned to leave, she glanced at the young Scribe for a moment. He really did want to help. And fuck, she needed the help. She wasn’t smart enough, didn’t know enough about magic outside of her own fire. And she couldn’t do this alone. It wasn’t possible, not if she wanted to help this person. “Yeah, I will. I’ll keep you posted. And if you find anything… let me know.” She said before turning her back on Rio and walking back down the dark corridors of the Scribrary. First Leah, now Rio. Who else would know about this? Who else could help her? Who else would understand why she… needed to do this?

It didn’t matter. It really didn’t. “Whatever it takes.” She repeated to herself. Whatever it takes, to bring some scrap of balance back to the world. To right the wrongs in her past. Whatever it takes.

#p: rr #p: orion quinn #chatzy #wickedswriting

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ashes-in-a-jar · 4 years

Text

Tma relisten Episodes 11-15

So this round already has two other posts out of it about Oliver because he Bae.

These have alot of ideas regarding entities changing around reality, controlling non victims to set the stage, and turning around what people love most to their worst fear. Also insane abilities of the crew to obtain hard to access info and evidence! And some more Jon sass. Enjoy!

11 dreamer

Wow this episode had alot. I made a separate post with a theory about Oliver's statement here and a realization regarding him and Jane Prentiss here. They are alot to unpack

Oliver is so. Freaking. Relatable! Learned economics and hated it. Nearly had a breakdown like him because of it. "going to stay with some of the few friends that had survived my year of stress-fuelled outbursts and constantly cancelled plans." yep. That.

Boyfriend Graham ey? You notebook eating Graham?? Wow that guy is full of surprises.

I love the dream sequences and their descriptions it's a really beautiful thing to try and picture.

Its interesting how he went from passive to desparate to passive again about death. He tries but can't help. I wonder when the dreams started to bother him so much he sought after the silence of point Nemo. Was it when they became so full of red because of the apocalypse coming closer? Hmmm

Another person named John. I guess that makes sense it's a common name. But I forgot how many people are fully named in this podcast. Hundreds of names to come up with! Jonny I'm quite impressed!

He worked with Jane Prentiss in the magic shop! I can't believe I forgot about that! Wow small avatar world indeed.

"It led me to a room, the label of which was still visible, and read “Archive”. I entered to see walls covered with shelves and cabinets stretching off into the distance. These shelves were coated in a sticky black tar, which I knew at that moment was the thickened, pulpy blood that pumped through each and every one of those veins." everything that has to do with the Fears I bet. Full of death and destruction and stolen from the veins to be out on display for the Eye's pleasure.

Yo Jon is scared of this he's seriously considering going to Elias for advice

" I had Tim look into it, as I don’t entirely trust the others not to have written it as a practical joke" wait. He trusts TIM? Not to do a practical joke? How. Why. Eh?

"died in the line of duty" fuck you Jonah.

Now Jon will get every new statement immediately when it's made. Perhaps this was Elias' intention all along. To scare him into making sure he does not miss any paranormal activity recorded by the institute.

12 first aid

I'm not immune to more Gerry badassery, hell yeah

And we get polish Martin which hell yeah! Even if Jon doesn't believe it. I'm sure he's repressing the fact that he's thoroughly impressed.

I think it's really interesting the effect entities have on people who are decidedly not their victims. Everyone leaving no questions so the entity can set the scene for the scare. Like with Gillespie how no one lived in the apartment building he was in etc. Alot of work into a handful of people being genuinely scared.

Gerry's burns stopped at the neck? How did he manage that. Also it's hilarious to imagine that he's like "yes burn all of me but please. not my goth makeup"

Zippo lighter with eye design!! And Jon has web design! They are brothers (joke but still really interesting)

Liquids were boiling around her and she didn't feel the heat. Also an interesting effect just for the scare.

Gerry got eye superpowers like Jon if he can function while injure and filled with painkillers.

“Yes. For you, better beholding than the lightless flame.” Gerry knew she'd be haunted by a Fear from that day on and realised that perhaps being watched would be easier for her specifically to deal with than the Desolation. I guess that's a way of assessing people. Which fear would least bother you.

Jon is already enamoured with Gerry you can tell. He can't wait to hear more from him. Just you wait Jon.

They really can access alot of information huh. CCTV Interviews files. Pretty impressive for a non-research team. They're so good at it they'd rather do that than actual archiving.

13 alone

The sound editing in this episode is not that great it was a bit to get used to.

We get a glimpse at the Lukases which is... Ugh

Jon is actually trying to be nice. Granted it's not working and she is a bit of a standoffish person herself who just went through a bad time but alot of her reactions are not his fault. He was trying to be considerate giving her space to record but he did stay when she asked.

She had already leaned into the Lonely before the incident it's interesting to see how some of these statements start with a person actually liking the aspect that later turns to fear. Same happens in lost johns' cave.

Evan Lukas sounds like an avatar of the exact opposite of the Lonely. At least to her. That's a really interesting effect from someone, especially a Lukas.

But maybe dying wasn't his family killing him but him not feeding his patron which he tried to leave. Really tragic.

She was in Martin's domain eyyy!

It's got a bit of buried aspects to it with the grave stuff and all.

"My fingers dug into the soft cemetery dirt as I looked around desperately for anything I could use to save myself, and my hand closed upon that heavy piece of headstone. It took all my self-control to keep a grip on that anchor, as I slowly dragged myself away from the edge of my lonely grave." The headstone was her anchor? But it said forgotten. I wonder how it helped her pull away. It probably had to go together with Evan's voice. Like the rib and the tape recorders having to work together! I just wonder what meaning the stone had for her.

"I’d be tempted to chalk this one up to a hallucination from stress and trauma, if it wasn’t for the fact... " God he does believe her heavens. He's not a skeptic!

This is when Jon's dreams start which... Good luck Jon.

14 piecemeal

Rentoul is terrifying sonofabitch and I would never want to meet him irl

I remembered them talking about how he was supposed to be a person who cursed alot and they couldn't do it because of sensor and I have to agree this could have been much better for the story. I tried imagining curses in some places.

LOL Jon reading this is funny. Trying to voice act the bad boy. Doesn't sound right on his voice.

With these kinds of statements happening alot where the person does something bad, the institute has to be in touch with police over them. The nda has to include that.

Hello Angela! I really wonder what her deal is. She scared the bid bully so she gotta have creepy vibes to the extreme.

Another lighter! Hmm do I have to start following the lighter motiff in this podcast. This one has a topless woman on it. Flesh lighter?

Salesa's also appearing that's cool! Noriega was probably looking for an artifact to reverse the curse. Didn't work tho since they left with the crate. The buried crate perhaps?

I'm wondering. Was this written? Because the statement sounds like he's talking. If so, Where's the recording?

Oh Jon your attitude towards Martin is so bad. He works so hard and it's not even in what he's good at, sorting and filing like he knows how to do from the library. God.

What's the deal with all the furniture gone? Did he think it'll help not get injured? He's not that smart if he thought that would help him.

15 lost Johns' cave

Ack a bad statement she was not a good person all around

Another example of the entities setting the stage by controlling others not to interfere with the victim's experience.

Also another example of the person liking the subject (cave exploration in this case. And the dark for that matter) only for it to turn against them.

Not much to say about this one other than its one of the scarier ones for sure. And her recording in the end is really the cherry on top. There is alot of discrepancy between what she believed happened and what actually did which shows how much the fear plays with and changes around reality. That's also how she manages to lie in a statement to Beholding. It wasn't a lie. It was her version of reality and she did not remember saying those awful words.

Taught me alot about cave diving and how much I will never do it in my life.

The Dark was mixed into this as well so it wasn't purely Buried.

Btw Where did she get the candles she was found with?

It feels like she made a choice. Didn't want to spend her last moments with her sister and then didn't want to die. She chose her sister to be taken over her. Her sister called for help and the candle coming closer might have been her! But she just shut her eyes.

How did Tim gain access to the recording?? Wow that's some prime evidence.

Martin is claustrophobic amongst other things huh? Live how Jon just dismisses this as an excuse not to work. At least he didn't push it.

#tma #the magnus archives #jonathan sims #martin blackwood #Tim stoker #Oliver banks #Tma hiatus liveblog #gerry keay

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vydante · 5 years

Text

Restart | Avengers x Male! Reader | 11

Fandom: Marvel

Pairing: Avengers x Male! Reader (romantically: multiple)

Plot: Dr. Strange said there was only one possibility of winning the battle against Thanos.

But when (Name) is forced into the past and into his younger body, he’s suddenly given the chance to start over and prevent the future from happening again.

So which route are you going to take? Are you going to risk the future and take preventative measures, or live life with the Avengers for the next 4 years, knowing what will soon come?

A/N: Different format this time, taken like a video log, though it’s mostly dialogue.

[Action: enter folder titled ‘Project Renaissance’.]

...

[Enter Password: |]

[Enter Password: 1R0NM4NSU|]

[Enter Password: 1R0NM4NSUXXAP3XRUL35 |]

[Action: enter.]

...

[Password Accepted.]

[Accessing…]

[Enter folder name.]

[Action: “video logs”.]

[Searching…]

[Folder ‘Video Logs’ found. Would you like to play from the beginning?]

[Action: “Yes.”]

...

[Playing… “uh i don’t know name it whatever you want”, date created: 10-23-2013.]

...

“Is this thing on? Hello? Hell-o?”

The video feed shows your lone figure in your lab. It’s dark outside as the timestamp in the corner indicates that it’s half past midnight. You’re sitting directly in front of the camera, dressed in pajamas but no signs of fatigue anywhere.

You visibly huff, but only mirth flickers through your eyes as you look directly into the camera. It doesn’t last long as your eyes travel over to the camera feed and now you’re just looking at yourself as you begin to talk.

“Alright, so uh. Yadda yadda yadda, I planned to manually enter and type all of this out, but… I thought why not record it all in a log along the way? Fun, huh?”

You trail off on that thought, mumbling something about ‘well, that’s what my therapist said, anyways. Ah, wait, I don’t have her yet… mm, should probably look into that…’.

“Anyways, this is day one of Project Renaissance, or as it’s also known as, Project Get-Our-Shit-Together-Before-We-Get-Our-Lives-Rocked-By-Thanos.”

You shrug nonchalantly, but to the keenest of eyes, there was a stiffness in your posture when you mentioned Thanos. It was brief, but present nonetheless as it quickly dissipates from your shoulders.

“And, we don’t have to worry about any of this being leaked or whatever, because this is all on my sweet DAHLIA’s servers! Say something to the camera.”

“Something to the camera,” a dull female voice spoke up from the ceiling, Australian accent thick.

“Charming,” you purse your lips as if to hold back a smile, “Anyways, where was I…”

“Oh, yeah- Renaissance. So this is gonna be a long, long project with a bunch of other mini-folders inside.”

You swiped your hands across the air, slicing through as blue holograms appeared in front of the camera. There were already dozens of folders, but the camera catches only a few of their names.

‘Firecracker’, ‘Thunderpants’, and ‘Accords’ are some that are visible.

“I just wanted to get on base with what we have so far, but it’s not much considering it’s, y’know, only day one.”

You mumble something incoherent away from the camera before gazing back up on the camera feed, not quite looking directly into the camera itself. To the left of you, there’s a hologram of a checklist that you occasionally glance through as you resume speaking.

“Main objective of this project: prevent Thanos from decimating half of the universe, preferably killing him in the process. Side objectives: keep the Avengers together, current members optional, new members in need nonetheless. Contenders in another file.”

You glance at the checklist.

“Current objective: locate and capture Barnes, codename Winter Soldier, and any other Winter Soldiers, and sift through S.H.I.E.L.D.’s database for traces of HYDRA.”

“Sidenote: we, ah, started the search yesterday- for Barnes. So far, it’s… Not really promising. I, uh, initially gave the timeline to find Barnes a few days max, but man, I’m starting to doubt that…”

You sigh, scratching at your arm irritably.

“Whatever…” you mumbled.

“Anyways.”

“I, ah, I don’t know for sure what I want to do with Barnes, but considering that I’ll probably have more than ample time to think about it, I’m not worrying about it too much. As for his triggers…”

You glanced at an adjacent folder, almost contemplating.

“I know of one person who can help, but I’m not exactly putting too much hope for that one. So.”

“We might have to resort to B.A.R.F. when it’s ready. DAHLIA, who- who was on that case again?”

“Mr. Quentin Beck and his team, doll.”

“Ah, yeah, Beck. Cute, tall, big ole’ eyes?”

An image hologram pops up in front of you, presumably of Quentin Beck.

“I don’t know about ‘cute’, but in essence? Yep.”

You ignored DAHLIA’s apparent judgment in your taste in men.

“Gotcha. Well, there’s that we can resort to if need be. Um…”

“Well, as for HYDRA, that’s… That’s a whole ‘nother can of worms right there.”

You sighed, and this is the first inkling of exhaustion you’ve shown so far. You deflate a little bit and spend the next few minutes staring at something behind the monitor in silence. You’re deep in thought before your phone buzzes.

Then, the video feed cuts off.

…

[Video end. Selecting next in queue…]

[Playing… “okay don’t do that weird thing where you record everything i say and make it the title, please dahlia anyways uh i wanna name it uh huh um shit dahlia i swear to god stop doing that”, date created: 11-02-2013.]

…

“Wow, alright, I was watching the last log last night and man did I literally got nothing done. I mean, it was the first day, but still! Still, I fucking…”

Your voice trails off as you walk away from the screen, holding what appears to be a big box filled with papers and envelopes. You set it down in the far corner of the lab, still talking but your words are unintelligible as the microphone is too far to hear anything.

“... And yet here I am, just- ugh!”

You dropped your body onto the chair and plopped right in front of the screen. Your hair is disheveled, undersuit still on. There’s a bruise forming on your forehead, but you don’t really seem to care about your messy appearance.

You pointed a lazy finger towards the corner, a small grin as you try to line it up with the camera feed.

“That’s fanmail- apparently someone has been neglecting to read those… It’s me, I’m someone.”

You chuckle to yourself.

“Mm, I’ll read myself to sleep later, probably hang all of it up on a mural wall somewhere. Or the ceiling, that works too. Anyways. Just went on a, shall I say, self-imposed mission. It was, ah, to look for Barnes.”

You sheepishly smiled.

“‘Was followin’ a lead from DAHLIA, a potential hit marker, but- it was just a- a barely running base. Nothin’ new, but- it’s nice. To fly and- and fight in the suit every now and then.”

You shake your head.

“Not the- the current one. The nanite one. It’s- god, I miss it, you know?”

Your eyes glaze over, a faraway glint in your eyes as you paused your ranting. This goes on for about 24 more seconds before you started talking again, voice smaller.

“I did this thing, with dad. After the whole, um, Accords bullshit. He- we would get into our suits- the newer models, and just… Go at each other. No repulsors, no nothing. Just raw, brutal punches in the suit. No holding back, no making sure the other one’s okay after a good blow… Just… We just hailed on each other, you know?”

“I mean, obviously we weren’t trying to kill each other, but sometimes it… It felt close, y’know? Nothing personal, but… It was primal, sometimes. Sometimes he’d knock my jaw a little too loose and all I’d ever see would be red… It was wild, I’ll tell you that.”

“But- we only did it here and there, considerin’, y’know. He’s-... He was getting older, and I was… getting busier.” You sighed. “No one knew about it either; god knows how Rhodey or ma’ would react to us- just- beating the shit out of each other.”

You smiled, though it looked more like a grimace.

“It was fun, though. Get the frustrations out. Work on our weaknesses. Show no hesitation. It’s…”

There’s a sudden hollowness in your eyes as your face shifts, an expression years older than you were currently. Haunted, almost. You shake your head, whatever traces of your former self now gone as you smiled- though, there was nothing genuine to that smile at all.

“... Not important. Anyways.”

You shifted in your seat, clearly uncomfortable at the stagnant air despite being the only one in the room.

“So yeah. HYDRA. I took out everyone at that base. Nothing left. Downloaded whatever they had, wiped it, then burnt it to a crisp. The usual, nothing new, nothing important…”

You shrugged, “It’s harder to get the Avengers to look the other way when I’m doing these solo missions. I’m pretty sure Natasha’s getting sus about this… Nothing tied to me, but. Still.”

“But yeah, DAHLIA’s sifting through the information right now.”

Your eyes shift to the left, presumably a screen with said findings loading in.

“So-o... There was… There was that.”

You paused, trying to gather your thoughts when your eyes flickered.

“Ah- but to continue to the last log; HYDRA… Man. HYDRA, HYDRA, HYDRA. Always a pain in the ass.”

You scowled.

“I thought it was gonna take me a little longer to sift through the S.H.I.E.L.D. database, but surprisingly enough, it was… Kind of easy to sort out HYDRA and Not-HYDRA.”

You scratched your head in confusion.

“Back a couple of years ago- or, well, in… Next year, actually. June? Well- Team Cap is gonna go haywire on S.H.I.E.L.D. and HYDRA and Project Insight and basically dump all that good-good, and we,” you noted with an oddly bitter tone, “were left to clean up the mess they made. And, well, it exposed a lot of active field agents. Shit, man.”

You scrubbed your face with your hands, which were marred with fresh scratches and burn marks. It’s unclear where they came from, but you don’t seem bothered by it.

“So many agents were killed in that stunt. God…”

Your voice is muffled, but still audible.

“There was one agent… Codename Acai. Sweet gal, ‘cording to her co-workers. Little unhinged, but she got the work done. She… She was undercover in North Korea for a few years. Got busted by the data dump. And…”

“God, they just…”

You sighed gruffly, refusing to look anywhere near the camera.

“It was rough, finding her body. Kept looking for her even months after the whole Ultron bullshit. By the time we got to her, it took us months to I.D. her body- even worse? North Korea already had her death listed as suicide under her fake name. Bullshit! Parts of her was missin’, how the fuck is that a suicide?! Both feet, gone. Her sternum was nowhere to be found. How- I just…!”

You gritted your teeth.

“I just don’t understand what they were thinking when they pulled that dumbass stunt to release all of that- that sensitive data…! I thought- oh, maybe, maybe, HYDRA had already corrupted a large part of S.H.I.E.L.D., that’s why they did it!”

“But no! No- do you know how much of S.H.I.E.L.D. was infected? How much?!”

You pinched your fingers together and squinted at the camera with a visceral smile.

“6 percent. That 6 percent accounted for a majority of the higher-ups. Not lower field combatants. Not the technicians. The higher-ups.”

“6 percent of S.H.I.E.L.D. was HYDRA,” you hissed, “yet they still endangered the other 94% active and non-active members! Fuck- it was a miracle! A miracle, that we got to any of the agent’s family that had been documented before HYDRA or anyone else could!”

“It’s a miracle that the Bartons even made it- and we didn’t even know about them until Ultron! It’s just-... Fuck!”

Growling, you knocked your head against the metal table in front of you. The camera shakes a little bit.

“God, Romanoff, what the fuck were you thinkin’? You were supposed to keep them in check, not… Not be so goddamn stupid!”

You growled under your breath, taking a moment to breathe. You lifted your head up with a neutral face and exhaled.

“Whatever. What’s done is done. I’ve- I’ve had years to simmer over it and I’m- I’m not. Angry. I swear I’m not. It’s done, it happened. But. Hopefully in this timeline… It won’t happen. Not like that, at least.”

There was a peculiar glint in your eyes as you started reaching into one of your cabinets.

“And I know just how to stop it.”

You raised your eyebrows with your eyes closed, reluctant to repeat what you had already said.

“Again, sifted through S.H.I.E.L.D. for HYDRA. Got the information. And it is all. In. Here.”

You pulled back up to reveal a small black USB flash drive. There’s nothing of interest to it on the outside, but it’s what’s inside that really, really counted.

“This bad boy has all the shit that HYDRA’s been skeemin’ all up in S.H.I.E.L.D.’s system. I- well.”

“I actually have 2 of these, but, ah. One’s already on the way to ole’ Saint Nick.”

You brushed a hand through your hair. It’s grown quite a bit and in need of trimming.

“Because if there’s one thing I know for sure about S.H.I.E.L.D.? Nick ain’t apart of HYDRA, no matter how much of a scumbag he is. And, really… I’d like to think I trust him to handle this situation properly- more so than anyone else but me and my dad. Obviously, dad can’t- he can’t ever know about… About this.”

Despite referring to the USB in your hands, your words were heavy nonetheless. It wasn’t just the flash drive you were referring to.

“So Fury’s getting the other bad boy. Worth millions, and 2 of a kind, too.”

“Well, I sent it to the bastard. Hopefully, he doesn’t trash it, or whatever. Soon.”

You hummed. Setting the USB down on the table, you made direct eye contact with the camera and posed with pouty lips. You threw up a peace sign ironically and grinned.

“Well, that’s that. Oh, and Clint vomited on Steve’s clothes yesterday. Not important, but funny nonetheless. Deuces!”

…

[Video end. Selecting next in queue…]

[Playing… “dahlia we don’t have the fucking time for this get the damn suit”, date created: 11-29-2013.]

…

“Hi.”

You’re still in your school clothes that day, a simple sweater and sweatpants. Your letterman is hanging on the back of your seat for going to the robotics competitions your school had.

The timestamp also indicates that you had just gotten out of school too- though, it is considerably dark outside. Snowing that day, most likely. And still is, probably.

“So, uh. Fury got the message, I think.”

You spun around in your chair, knees up to your chest.

“Usually we’re getting harassed by him every now and then to do missions, but Natasha just came home yesterday sayin’, like. ‘Fury’s put my mission on hold’, or something.”

“He doesn’t know I sent it to him, I think. But. Thing’s’re getting pret-ty serious now, huh.”

You shrugged.

“Well, whatever. I didn’t come here to talk about Fury, though. I came here to update on, ah, a few things.”

“I know I haven’t touched base with- well, you,” You gave the camera a saucy wink, “about a lot of my projects so far. So, here are a few that I’ve been thinking of implementing.”

A picture is pulled up from your desktop. It’s an aerial shot of a brunet talking to his friend, both of a juvenile appearance. There’s another picture, a 3D generated image of a red and blue suit.

“So. Peter Parker.”

Sigh.

“I… really, really, really don’t want him to be involved in any of this. No superhero bullshit, no nothing.”

“He’s young. He doesn’t- doesn’t need to be involved with this mess. I just… I just want him to have a normal life.”

‘One I never got to have; one he’ll never get to have,’ goes unsaid, but you continued on.

“But… By my reasoning, I am… Hypocritical in my justification.”

You paused, frowning as you look at the picture long and hard. When you speak up, your voice is noticeably quieter.

“He was just as old as I was when I started this whole Apex mantle thing. Hell, he might’ve been older. Will be older. And quite frankly, I can’t stop him even if I wanted to. He’ll still do it, still go out and fight and just-...”

“He’ll do it unsupervised, and that’s what scares me the most.”

You mumble under your breath, “He reminds me too much of… Me. Young, dumb, and reckless as all hell.”

You shook your head and pulled up another file. This one’s a text file, and it’s detailed enough to go on for pages and pages, but clearly there’s more to be added.

“So, what I’m hoping to do is… Start an internship program. Start- start him early. The sooner, the better control he’ll have over his powers. The better experience he’ll get. And, of course, with the additional benefits of, well. Being in an actual internship program.”

“What that will intel? I don’t know. But I think… I think both the students and SI can- can benefit off of that.”

“So, that was one of my projects. Another one is about, well.”

You swallowed hard for this one.

“Extremis.”

You held your hands up as if trying to halt the camera- even the viewer- from freaking out.

“Listen, look, I know, I know- ‘oh, Extremis is already stabilized, oh, why mess with it even more, oh, just leave it alone it’ll make you explode into a thousand firecrackers, oh’- I get it. I know.”

“But… Listen to me.”

“I really, really do think Hansen was onto something with Extremis, no matter how evil and fucked up it is now. It… With a little bit of love and care, I really do think it can help. Maybe not- not on a mass-production scale- or for commercial use, period- but still.”

You licked your lips, eyes flickering to a picture of you, Tony, and Rhodey eating ice cream on your desk.

“I… It can be a last resort type of thing. It- it has the potential. So, so much potential.”

You chuckled to yourself.

“Well, it’s not like you- whoever else that isn’t me that’s watching this- can convince me otherwise. Don’t worry, no live subjects. No evil scientist bull, just… Just trust me, please.”

It’s unclear who exactly you’re referring to, but it’s as if there’s a specific person you’re trying to plead with despite knowing that no matter what, this footage- along with the rest- will be forever condemned to rest in the grave that is DAHLIA’s protected database.

“So, yeah. Working a little bit on Extremis. Um, I wish I could say that the next projects are more- light-hearted, but. Not really, no.”

“I’m… Well, there’s no easy way to say this: I’m thinking of filing a class-action lawsuit on Ross.”

And with that bombshell of an announcement to the camera, the Avengers alert rang across the building.

“Fuck- DAHLIA, end it- put me on comms!”

…

[Video end. Selecting next in queue…]

[Playing… “i am so mad i didn’t think about this before dahlia change the mission objective”, date created: 12-18-2013.]

…

...

“Would you believe me if I said I completely forgot about these whole video log things?”

Your back is turned to the camera, completely shirtless and hair dripping wet. You’re texting someone, and you’re typing a little bit furiously. The camera catches the other person sending a cat picture. You huff, but turn your phone off and set it to the side.

“So. Ross.”

You shake your head.

“Sorry to drop a bombshell like that on you,” you quietly address the camera, “then disappear on a mission, but-”

“There’s nothing concrete now. Just- it’s just an idea. I think…”

“I think Bruce would like it. There’s- there’s a lot of dirt on Ross. So much shit that can get him life, too. Maybe even death if we play our cards right, but… I want that bastard to suffer. And quite frankly, if I can get rid of him now, the better the Avengers will be in the future.”

You rolled your shoulders, a satisfying crack echoes from you and you grinned for a moment, before smoothing your face out into something more neutral. You leaned back in your chair, and take a breather.

“So, uh. It’s been… Over a month, I’d say? Since I started these whole video logs. Um… No traces on Barnes. It’s…”

You glance up at the ceiling with a pained expression.

“It’s frustrating as hell. You’d think, with access to a majority, if not all of the satellites and cameras and whatnot, we’d find him easier…”

“It’s like he’s not even doing anything, at all. No missions, no assassinations or whatever… Nothing. Nada. It’s like… It’s like he’s not even being deplo-”

You paused. It’s clear that the gears inside your head are turning. You narrowed your eyes, a smile threatening to break out as you reached towards the camera buttons.

“Sonnofabitch.”

…

[Video end. Selecting next in queue…]

[Playing… “i won’t let history repeat again starting with him”, date created: 12-29-2013.]

…

...

“So. I’m, uh, major update.”

Unlike the previous video logs where you were in your lab, this one is different. The camera is a lot closer to your face and from a bottom perspective as you hold the camera.

You’ve got part of your helmet, chest plate, shoulders, gauntlets, and presumably your boots still on as your steps are heavy and clanking. There’s blood smeared across your forehead. You’re slightly out of breath as you glance at something outside of the camera’s perspective.

Around you, the view is shaky and it’s unclear where you’re walking. None of the interior decors indicates that you’re in the tower- in fact, it’s barren and empty.

You glance down at the camera view.

“Remember the last log? Well, I uh, sort of had an epiphany, if you will.”

You continue walking, but you’ve reached a door mechanism. You punch in some numbers and continue talking as the doors open wide.

“It was strange, that I got no hits of a Winter Soldier stalking around anywhere. Sure, he’s a trained spy and killer, but no one’s that slick- not even Natasha, as much as she thinks otherwise.”

You’re in an elevator now, catching your breath slightly as you drew your eyebrows together. There’s a dinging noise, indicating the floors you’re ascending- or descending, as it’s unclear what story you’re on.

“It was like there was no Winter Soldier; at least, no active one.”

“That got me thinking. He’s- what- from the 20’s? He should’ve been, say, early thirties, so 31? 32? At the time he went missing, anyways. But the thing is… Even in the future, the man looks barely in his late thirties. Barely.”

You tap your feet impatiently, boots echoing in the small space.

“But he’s been the Winter Soldier for, what, almost 70 years? Shit don’t add up.”

“So, while he’s practically responsible for so many goddamn murders, he’s probably not always… Awake. Active. I was thinking, shit, if he ain’t up and about right now, where the hell is he?”

“So I did some more digging. Found a Winter Soldier file in S.H.I.E.L.D.- er, HYDRA’s database. There’s… A bunch. Of the Winter Soldiers, I mean. But none of them were- was Barnes. Just a bunch of knock offs.”

You glance up at the floor indicator. The camera shifts and the numbers blink downwards.

-3… -4… -5...

“But I found something interestin’. There’s a- a list. Of HYDRA bases. Had no idea what they were for, but I took a hot guess.”

“One of them was Siberia. First one I went to- no Barnes. A bunch of other Winter Soldiers, though. The failed ones.”

“I…”

There’s a moment of hesitation, unsure if you should say what you’re about to say.

“I shot them dead.”

The ball drops just as the elevator dings, doors opening as you stepped out with a confidence that doesn’t match the remorse in your eyes.

“It’s. Look, I know it- that’s fucking. Insane. Inhumane. Murder. I don’t care. It’s- it’s too goddamn dangerous, having them- alive! I don’t know if there was any- any redemption for them.”

“But in the end, they- they were willing soldiers for HYDRA. The best, even. Anyone who- who willingly works for HYDRA… I’m not too sure I can trust them.”

You growled.

“Shit, I trusted Maximoff… And look where that got us.”

“I’m not fucking risking it with them.”

You shook your head, face smoothing out so it’s only the stressed wrinkles on your forehead that’s present. Your eyes soften minutely so.

“But for Barnes… There’s a chance. He’s a goddamn POW, and… If Shuri succeeded in getting rid of the trigger words, then there’s. A. Chance.”

“And… I’m willing to take that risk with him.”

The camera shifts, staring directly at the underside of your jaw. You cough and recalibrate the camera so it’s at a better angle.

“Anyways.”

“I… I went down the list. Of the bases? I didn’t- didn’t infiltrate them per se. It’s too risky- a majority of those bases are major ones. So I just… Snuck around. Looked at the infrastructure for anything that remotely looked like a certain Winter Soldier would be in.”

You stopped walking, now staring directly at something behind the camera. Your lips are pressed in a grim line.

“And I hit the jackpot.”

You should be happy about it if you took those words out of context, but your expression is far from it. Guilt, pity, and an earthly weariness mares your eyes as you huff.

“Everybody, say hi to Mr. James Buchanan Barnes.”

The camera view flips, and in the front stage center is a big chamber, similar to that of a hulk play box. But while it is smaller, the glass is noticeably thicker. In the corner, outside of the chamber, is Mark 22 standing eerily still with its glowing eyes trained on Barnes. It’s in a neutral stance, but it’s clear that it won’t hesitate to incapacitate the soldier if it came down to it.

And on the furthest wall inside the chamber is Barnes, slumped on the ground with a pool of water around him. He’s wet as well, but unconscious. He’s in his military tactical gear, too, though there are no weapons visible on him.

The microphone picks up your sigh.

“I… I don’t know what to do with him. I- I saw the fucking- freezer they kept him in, but. It was a quick operation- I had no time to get the damn thing out without them- HYDRA- noticing me. So. Guess that throws out the plan to keep him- frozen like a popsicle until further notice.”

Barnes twitches slightly, and his fingers move. There’s an audible grunt, and your breath hitches as you swerve the camera back on you. Your eyes are wide, and you throw the camera a nervous grin that’s more akin to a grimace. In the background, your suit whirs to life.

You gave a nod to the camera.

“Wish me luck.”

…

[Video end.]

[Play again?]

Masterlist

Tagged: @unsolvetheheckoutofit, @tonystanktheirondad, @ludwigvonbaethoven, @fabledxmystery

#male reader #male!reader #x male reader #male reader insert #avengers x male reader #Avengers #reader insert #Bucky Barnes #bucky barns x reader #bucky barnes x male reader #winter soldier #restart

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corpse--diem · 4 years

Text

Haunted Hallways | Jasmine & Erin

TIMING: Current PARTIES: @halequeenjas & @corpse–diem SUMMARY: Jasmine shows Erin around a new apartment when they’re interrupted by an old friend.

It was interesting how time could keep moving and stand still all at the same time. Weeks had gone by since her world had all but gone up in flames but the world kept going. Still pushed forward. So Erin had to keep moving with it, and by the time the opportunity came to look for a new apartment, it made all the sense in the world to jump on it. Nic and Skylar had been more than gracious allowing her to stay with them as long as they had but she needed her space. Always had. Especially now, given that some lunatic felt comfortable just waltzing in and burning down buildings she frequently inhabited. The door was already open when she approached the apartment building her new realtor, a Ms. Jasmine Hale, had picked out. From the outside, the place seemed nice enough. Seemed like a place she could exist, at first glance, even if only temporarily. “Hello?” She called out, knocking on the open door before she saw the other woman. Greeting her with a smile, Erin reached out her hand. “Jasmine?” She asked tentatively. “Erin Nichols. It’s nice to meet you, finally! Sorry, I hope I’m not too late. The fog out there is extra wicked today. I had to take my time getting here,” she apologized with a crinkle of her nose.

As Jasmine had rushed up to the apartment she was showing her new client, she was grateful Erin had yet to arrive. One of the stupid floating fish had been circling her Jag and she wasn’t about to become some fish’s dinner. Being late was never a good look for a professional and she wasn’t in the business of wasting people’s time. Just as she was about to head up and place some wards around and scope out the scene, she heard her name. Crap. She threw on her megawatt smile anyway and extended her hand to shake. “Yes, it’s me. Good to meet you in person, Erin.” This fog did really put a damper on the whole driving thing and the fish were weird. With a laugh, she responded, “Oh yeah, the fog is a doozy. Really uncharacteristic for it to be this thick, but better to drive safely.” She kept her face bright and smile winning to not give way to the nerves that were boiling underneath. Larry Bob was likely to show his pathetic, scraggly face to blow this rental for her. She had to hide the horrified look on her face as she opened the door and saw the stripes. She could spin this. “As you can see, this place is really into modern decor, but I think the floor plan and price here is what the real winner is.”

Jasmine was as chirpy and bright as Erin expected any good realtor to be. Not unpleasantly, though, like how an overzealous salesperson could drown you in big grins and enthusiasm. Jasmine was teeming with all of that stuff too, that much was obvious, but Erin could still breathe. She appreciated that. “Good to meet you too--” Erin started, the smile she returned drooping into a slacked jaw she couldn’t stop. Black and white stripes. Everywhere. “Christ,” she mumbled under her breath, the unexpected bold lines making her squint. There was something innately familiar about this scene she couldn’t put her finger on. Probably saw something like it in a magazine at one point. “Modern decor is…” she started, shrugging when nothing positive came to mind immediately. “Well, it’s something, alright. Definitely not my area of expertise.” Didn’t find a lot of that in a funeral home, that was for sure. With a chuckle, she raised an eyebrow in Jasmine’s direction but slowed her movements until she came to a complete stop, gesturing towards the stripes that felt like they were swallowing them whole the farther they went. “I’ve got to be honest, if the apartment looks anything like this hallway, I’m going to save you the trouble and stop the tour right now. This is…” she grimaced, shaking her head. “Like, a lot.”

Modern decor was one of her personal areas of expertise, but this definitely wasn’t it. Still, Jasmine could spin this. They’d both driven all the way out here in the crazy fog and from the video tour, the apartment itself looked darling. “I’ll admit, the exterior is a little loud for my tastes, but that’s not where most people spend a lot of their time… well, unless you like hanging in hallways but that seems weird so,” she explained with a shrug as she led them to the unit in question. Internally, she pleaded that they hadn’t decided to redecorate the interior of the unit as well. As she opened the door to the apartment, she let out a breath of relief. Totally normal just as she had planned. “See, definitely different from the hallway. I think too many buildings are trying to be trendy nowadays, but the floorplan here is amazing. You’ve got all this open space, but let’s take a look around. I always like to end with the kitchen-- if it turns out they didn’t clean something right, you don’t wanna deal with the smell the whole time you’re perusing the place.”

Oh, thank God. This whole set-up was a temporary solution--somewhere to stay while Erin waited for the insurance to kick in and the (hopeful) rebuilding to start. But even temporarily staring at an apartment that looked like the hallway was absolutely out of the question. “Oh, no, you’re so right. This is great,” she exclaimed with genuine surprise and relief. Way better than the other apartments she’d found looking on her own, anyway. “I honestly don’t need anything too fancy. If everything goes to plan, this should be temporary. I should mention that, shouldn’t I? And it’s just me and my cat, anyway. Well, and sometimes my boyfriend, but I’m usually at his place. Indoor pool guy--need I say more?” She raised a playful brow, grinning. “Pets are okay too, right?” She asked, though her attention drifted to the windows in the living room. Not a great view she determined, but not bad either. Decent enough for temporary. What felt like a small gust of wind moved past her--barely detectable if it wasn’t for the temperature. Like someone had opened a freezer right in her face. “Oh, is it always this cold? How’s the heating?” she asked, turning to Jasmine again, following closely behind as she did her thing.

There was a bright smile on her face as she saw Erin look around seemingly happy. Jasmine knew this would be a perfect spot. Nice open floor plan, decent storage space, a nice view from the window-- and for a fair price? Who wouldn’t love this place? If she wasn’t already living in her perfect waterfront home on Harris Island, she’d have snagged this place up. “I do try to make it a habit of being right,” she joked although if she was being honest, she actually meant that statement. “I think this might be the spot for you then. Not overly fancy, but still very comfortable and a practical price. And wait… isn’t indoor pool guy the one who eats water with his cereal?” Men really needed to be stopped sometimes. Water in cereal when milk wasn’t even expensive. It was definitely gross and she definitely judged him a little for it. Still, she recovered with a laugh and said, “But indoor pool. Sure it makes staying there more fun.” She’d looked over the details carefully before showing this place even if she did somehow miss the striped hallway. “Yep, cats are totally welcome! They don’t even charge pet rent,” she answered as she felt a familiar cold sensation. Oh no. She swore she would throw Larry Bob out of existence as she cursed under her breath. She clutched the bag of salt in her purse and looked around carefully only to be shocked to find a ghost that was surprisingly not Larry Bob. “Oh my god, I totally have to show you the bathtub. It’s right over there,” she gestured and quickly threw a dash of salt at the tacky ghost in the Hawaiian shirt. Who dodged her. Of freaking course!

It’d been a few years since Erin had lived in an apartment on her own, and while the circumstances that had brought her here weren’t ideal, it was a little exciting. Something of her own again. Something that wasn’t passed down and filled with ghosts of a family that no longer lived there. This could be hers, for as little or as long as she had, and the thought was a welcome one. Jasmine’s upbeat attitude had a refreshing grounding nature to it. She liked her already. “Ah. You remember that, huh?” she laughed quietly, shaking her head. “The one and the same. Bit of a dumbass--I think the water cereal speaks for itself on that. But he’s a good one,” she said, a teasing fondness in her tone. Good. Betty could live peacefully here too no problem. At this point, she had little doubt about whether or not she would be taking the place. She could picture her curled up at the large window, Nic frying up eggs in the kitchen--oh, she wanted to see the kitchen next. God, it was freezing in here though. Holding her arms against herself, she followed Jasmine, turning her head sharply at the exclamation about the bathtub. “Oh, yeah. Sure,” she nodded, narrowing her eyes.

“Missed me, bitch.”

Was someone else here? A squatter, maybe? The familiar voice, that deep-throated chuckle shook her immediately. She knew that voice somehow. Her mind jumped to Roy and his goons. Was he seriously watching her this intently? How? “Jasmine?” She called out, slowly reaching for the knife in her purse. “Everything alright in--” She saw the bowl of fruit flying straight at them as she turned the corner to the kitchen. An apple smacking her shoulder when she turned and cowered away and that hearty laugh echoed through the apartment.

“Oh hell yeah. That’s what I’m talking about,” the voice boomed. Erin saw the loud Hawaiian shirt first, covered with dry blood that had soaked down from the side of his head. There was still a gash from the baseball bat she had nailed hi No, no, no. This--this wasn’t happening. Dale was dead. Dale was not standing there in her soon to be new kitchen. “...Dale?” His eyes turned dark when they fell on hers. “Miss me, sweetheart?” His grin was as sharp and vile as she remembered, and without missing a beat, he sent one of the pans hanging for show beside the stove hurtling their way.

If it wasn’t Larry Bob, apparently it was some other jackass in a Hawaiian shirt trying to crash her showings. Seriously? Jasmine was fuming now and wanted to smack this ghost into whatever ether it was supposed to be in. She had been pretty sure Erin went to go check out the bathroom, so she was surprised when he asked if she missed him. “I don’t even know you, you absolute creep,” she retorted with a glare on her face as she quickly reached into her bag for her iron rod. The familiar chill had never been comforting to her, but she wouldn’t lose her resolve to a ghost in a tacky shirt.

She saw him ready to throw and apple and her head whipped back to follow it. It clearly wasn’t aimed at her and she gasped when she saw Erin there. Shit. How was she supposed to explain this? “I’m so,” she started but quickly had to dodge a pan. There was a loud crash as it fell to the floor after colliding into the wall. “Oh hell no,” she grumbled, standing taller this time and charging toward the ghost. “You were not invited to this and I don’t know who the hell you think you are. I’d get out of here before I exorcise you out of existence. I know it must be hard to move on stuck in that awful shirt, but trust me, it’s better than what I’ll do to you.” She raced forward ready to whack him with the iron rod, but he dodged out the way, causing her to stumble forward.

Was Jasmine trying to apologize for the big ass bald ghost in the kitchen? Dale. Fucking Dale. Erin didn’t understand the how or why but there he was, and she’d be a liar if the word zombie didn’t cross her mind again. Because here he was, live and in color. She was still trying to wrap her head around it when Jasmine went on the attack. “Jasmine, don’t--” Erin started, but she was insulting the clothes on his back and charging at him anyway. Exorcise? Did she just say exorcise? Sounded like some Blanche-flavored ghost bullshit she wanted nothing to do with. “Don’t worry lady, you’ll have your turn,” he growled, giving Jasmine a good kick from behind after she stumbled forward.

Erin ran forward out of instinct after her, stopping in her tracks when Dale turned around only feet from her now. His smile wicked, verging into a sneer. “Been a while, huh?” He asked, reaching for anything close. Both of their eyes widened for different reasons when he managed to get a hold of a display knife out of it’s holding block. Erin stepped back with every step forward, shaking her head. “No, no, no--you’re dead,” was all she could manage. She was sure of it - she’d burned his body and that ugly blood stained shirt herself. This wasn’t possible. There shouldn’t have been a body to come back, even if this was some sort of zombie situation. But here he was anyway, swinging the blade at her. She stumbled on the pan that he’d tossed earlier, falling back when another swing of his arm narrowly missed. Grabbing it, she used it as a shield when the blade came down, leaving a dent. Fuck. Yep. Didn’t matter how at this point. He was very much real. “Jasmine!” Erin hollered for help, clambering backwards.

The kick in the back she got from this ghosty asshole as she moved forward hurt, but Jasmine wasn’t about to let this rando spirit ruin this showing. She quickly recovered and tightened her grip on the iron rod. A horrified look crossed her face as she realized Erin was charging toward the ghost who was clearly still stuck in a mid life crisis without any salt or iron. “Don’t,” she called out, but it was too late. She was already in range of the Danny Devito knock off and now he was picking up a knife. She swore she’d banish him from existence right now if he used that knife on Erin. That was a $400 chef’s knife and he’d ruin it. Or worse, it’d be stuck in evidence forever. “Hey, asshole, over here,” she called out as she reached out for the salt on the counter. “Maybe next time you choose to haunt a place, stay out of the kitchen you absolute buffoon of a ghost!” She threw a dash of salt at him, which had to sting, but he was still with them. Ugh. She tossed the salt to Erin and raised her iron rod, daring this jackass to take her on.

Salt? What the fuck was she supposed to do with this? Erin racked her brain, trying to remember something Blanche had mentioned about it -- but it seemed to work. His physical form wavered just enough for him to drop the knife and let out a hiss. “God, you fucking b--” He hollered, turning his head to Jasmine, the dried blood on the side of his head the most glaring thing. Erin kicked the knife down the hallway, scrambling to sit up before taking Jasmine’s lead. His fist missed Jasmine when another handful of salt burned his corporeal form and he flickered again, like someone trying to blow out a candle. “You both want to die today? That’s fine by me, chickadee. I’ve got all the time in the fucking world,” he practically snarled, grabbing for Jasmine once he got a hold of himself again.

It seemed Erin didn’t hesitate too long on the salt. Small miracles were still miracles, but anger rose in Jasmine the moment he grabbed hold of her again. “Oh, hell no. Get your ugly ghost hands off my blouse,” she yelled as she kept her grip solid on the iron rod in her left hand and stabbed it through him. There was something nausea-inducing in the feeling of an iron rod going through his very much solid form, but she could feel that he was a ghost. Plus, the salt had worked on him. The iron did, too, and soon enough after some choice words he faded away. She let out the breath she had been holding before straightening her jacket and blouse and turning to Erin. “Okay, excuse my French here, but what the fuck,” she exclaimed. “It’s clear you know Mr. Wannabe Tommy Bahama over here, so what’s the deal?”

Ghost. Erin definitely heard the word ghost come out of Jasmine’s mouth. Fuck that. Fuck ghosts. Fuck Dale. Thankfully Jasmine shared the same sentiments. With wide-eyes, she watched as he practically dissolved before her eyes, gone as quickly and violently as he’d come. Something told her he wasn’t gone-gone though. The room was still as cold as it had been before, like a slightly wind chill nipping at her skin. Erin shifted uncomfortably, straightening her clothes as she tried to think of an adequate explanation. “He, uh--” Erin cleared her throat, shaking her head. “He was an old co-worker. It didn’t… you know. End well,” she nodded. That was all she needed to know, right? Her eyes narrowed at Jasmine. “How did you know he was a ghost? He was--” she held out a hand, tapping her forearm with her pointer finger. “Tangible. He could hold stuff. I thought they weren’t supposed to do that.”

It dawned on her that she said ghost outloud and Jasmine mentally cursed herself. Thankfully Erin didn’t find the concept to be too far fetched. At the mention of him being an old coworker, she immediately had a kindred feeling. Funny enough, they both had old coworkers as ghosts following them around. “Funny, I’ve got a pain in the ass coworker that’s a ghost, too. Normally, you wouldn’t be able to see yours. I just happened to be ‘blessed’ with the gift of seeing ghosts… and of getting rid of them. Since you’re not totally running for the hills, I’m an exorcist.” At the question of being tangible, she grumbled. She was thoroughly over this whole ghosts being solid thing. “I don’t know what’s going on there, but it’s a thing right now. Ghosts seem to be solid some of the time and I’m not loving it. So no, he’s not supposed to be able to do that and you shouldn’t have been able to see him.” Realizing this ghost had it out for her, she added, “Whatever place you move into, I’m throwing up some wards for you.” Talk about full service realty.

Jasmine’s words did little to comfort Erin, and it was even less of a relief to know that Dale was probably hanging around with her long before this. That cold feeling wasn’t entirely new--just something she’d shrugged off on more than one occasion. Awesome. Her heart was in the process of dropping to her stomach as Jasmine spoke, only perking up at ‘exorcist’. “Right,” she drawled with a hint of unintentional skepticism in her voice. “I hope yours at least shopped at places that weren’t tacky beach gift shops,” she murmured, trying to lighten the tightness suddenly enveloping her chest. Didn’t work as well as she’d hoped. “All I know is that they exist. I’ve never seen one before. Ever,” She said with a sigh, running a frustrated hand through her hair. Is that what Blanche had to endure on a daily basis? She couldn’t blame her for her freakouts if that was the case. “If he’s not supposed to be like that, then how is he like that? And do they always--uh, you know. Look like that?” She gestured towards her head, a reference to the bloody crack in his skull. The one Erin had put there months and months ago. Her heart beat hard again and she started to pick up the dented pan and knife at her feet, wincing at the scuff marks on both. Her eyes filled with fear, jumping back up to Jasmine. “He’s not going to come back, is he?”

It was evident to Jasmine that Erin wasn’t exactly comfortable with this news. Not that she could blame her. It was likely that this tacky ghost had been following her around for longer than she’d known which was far from comforting. “Worse, when he’s off work, he had crocs in 10 different colors,” she joked to keep the mood from getting too heavy. Of course Erin had never seen a ghost before. It wasn’t a gift that most people had and had to be alarming if you weren’t entirely used to it. Hell, even she was alarmed from time to time. “That makes sense, I’m not sure why people can see them now and why they’re solid. Probably some bigger White Crest bullshit like the fog and the mimes. But yeah, they do usually look like that. Well, not that specifically, but any injuries that killed them are still there as a ghost. Not always pretty, but to be fair, I don’t think your guy here was all that pretty to look at when he was alive either.” Jasmine started tidying up a little bit and put the knife back in its rightful spot. Dale had really come in and made a mess of the kitchen. At least no one was hurt. “The iron will have him gone for at least a few hours. Whatever place you pick, I’ll put wards up. Actually, wherever you’re currently staying should have wards, too. It keeps them out.”

Erin tried to laugh at the joke Jasmine volleyed back at her but it came out more like a stunted, heavy breath. “He sounds like the worst kind of person, honestly,” she said a bit distantly, her brow raised in harsh skepticism. Ghosts. Fucking ghosts. Dale’s ghost. It was hard to focus on anything else but those two things right now. How long had he been following her? How the fuck was he solid now suddenly? Skipping town and going into hiding, putting this place behind her just kept looking better and better every day. “Aren’t we just… super lucky to live in a town like this?” She asked, teeth tight against her smile and her fist slightly clenched. God, she was tired. But for all the nonsense they’d just experienced, this apartment fortunately looked just as good as it had before things got weird. “Oh, yeah, please. I’ll take all the wards you can possibly give me. Anything you’ve got. Like, I will personally pay you extra just for the wards,” she said, finally letting out a long breath, trying to think of anything but the sound of her baseball bat crunching skull bone or that toothy grin. He was gone. They were fine. For now. “But that asshole sure as hell isn’t going to stop me from missing out on a great apartment.” She paused a beat, nodding towards Jasmine, a gentler smile finding its way to the surface. “I’ll take it.”

#wickedswriting #chatzy #chatzy: jasmine #haunted hallways

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insane-control-room · 4 years

Photo

Mirrored Gravity

A commission for the wonderful @marie-lamb-b <3

ao3 link

Shawn had gotten quite used to strange things going on in their cottage. Things like Wally, Sammy, and Thomas sleeping on a couch all piled one on top of the other. Marina and Linda making a sculpture out of moving ink, then setting it ablaze. Gonner’s odd experiments with wires and potions. But this?

This took the cake.

Twisting the ring on his finger, a forming habit, he managed to comment on the situation.

“Wills.”

“Yeah?”

“Why are ye on the ceiling?”

“Huh?”

“Yer on the ceiling.”

“I am?”

Willy glanced at himself, and found Shawn to be correct - he was, indeed, on the ceiling.

“Huh. So I am.”

“Do you know… why yer defying the laws of physics? Or how?” Shawn asked, trying to sound nonchalant, but his intrigue dumped excitement into his tone. Willy shrugged. “No clue at all?”

“No, not really,” the man confessed, the soft red of his mouth contrasting with the rich dark tones of his face as he yawned and stretched. “It’s not exactly an everyday thing, ya know.”

“Yeah, I know,” Shawn nodded, then leaned against the wall. “How do ye suppose we’ll get ye down from all the way up there?”

Shawn had a point - the ceiling of the cabin was rather high up, and had Shawn not looked up to determine where the slight sound of snoring was coming from, it would have been unlikely that anyone would have spotted the snoozing janitor.

“What do you think about a rope?” Willy suggested. Shawn nodded and headed out to the shed to grab the coil that rested there. When he returned, he tossed the end up to Willy, who snatched it out of the air. “Try and pull me down.”

Shawn pulled - and then rose up along the rope himself, with an exclamation of surprise.

“Wills?!”

“Uh, if you’re gonna ask if you’re comin’ up, the answer is yes!” Willy yelled, but with an incredulous look on his face. “Stop! Go back down the rope, quick!”

Shawn scurried backwards, and his toes brushed the floor once more. He and Willy looked at one another and burst out laughing.

“Number one, I’ve got no idea how to get you down,” Shawn guffawed, “And number two, hell! That was weird as all hell in a soup pot!”

“Yep, I’m with you on that!”

Shawn twisted his ring again, and Willy bit his lip, and tried to swim through the air. He looked like a puppy in water for the first time - hovering in the same place despite the effort and will to move along.

“What time is it?” Willy questioned. “Maybe when Gonner gets back from school she can figure out somethin’ to get me down.”

“It’s twelve,” Shawn answered after glancing at his watch. Willy groaned. “I know it’s a pain, muirnín, but she’s not gonna be of use. We’re gonna have to figure this one out on our own.”

“Well, then, let’s think,” Willy replied. “How would you get down from a ceiling?”

“I don’t think I would be on a ceiling in the first place,” Shawn responded with ease. Willy nodded, and sighed a, “That’s fair.”

“Now, what about… um, ya demon?” Shawn fumbled. “Mirror. Mirry. Can that lil’ bastard do anything to help?”

Willy looked over at the corner of the ceiling.

“He’s too busy laughin’ his tush off,” Willy pouted. Shawn wanted to kiss him, and then climbed up the rope that Willy still held and twisted in nervous knots. “Yeah, yeah, laugh it off dumba- Oh! Hello, Shawn. What’re ya doin’ up here?”

“I’m gonna give my absolutely gorgeous fiance a big kiss, ‘cause he’s the cutest fella I’ve ever met in my whole life,” Shawn stated, before putting his hands on the sides of Willy’s face, pulling him close and kissing his nose, then his lips. “There. How was that?”

“Lovely,” Willy giggled, then noticed - “We’re on the floor.”

“Oh, are we?” Shawn looked down, lifting his toes and finding his heels firmly on the polished wood floors. “Wow. That was some trip, if ye ask me.”

“It was,” Willy agreed, and pecked Shawn’s cheek. “I guess that I just had to feel like flyin’ to come back to earth, doncha think?”

Shawn erupted into full laughter, Willy’s soft giggling accompanying it. He wrapped his arms around Willy, swaying slightly in time with the rhythm of the turntable, until he realized that no one had turned it on, and it certainly was not playing when he came in from his walk.

“D’ye hear that?” he murmured by Willy’s ear. The man cocked his head, like a dog might, and nodded. “The turntable’s on fer some reason.”

“Leave it on,” Willy coaxed him, kissing his cheek with a smile Shawn could feel. “It’s nice. Wanna dance?”

“With you?” Shawn felt his heart flutter. “Of course. I’d love to.”

They turned and swayed, as though they were reeds by the shoreline, soft water wafting around them, only them in the ocean of their home. It was a genuine, sweet, lovely, fun, wonderful time for them both, each laughing and humming along to the beat.

“Oh, I love ya,” Willy sighed, smiling, leaning up just a tad to kiss Shawn. Shawn grinned broadly, and kissed him back. “I’m so happy you’re here, with me….”

“I’m happy yer here with me, too,” Shawn beamed. “And that we’ve got the family, and everythin’, and everyone, and can work together… I’m so happy we’re here.”

“Do you think our house is haunted?” Willy asked, not quite out of nowhere, but Shawn certainly was not expecting it. His head lifted from Willy’s shoulder, looking into his eyes with some surprise. “Well, aside from Mirror. But he normally’d tell me if something supernatural was goin’ on in our vicinity.”

“What do you think? Do you think it’s haunted?” Shawn looked around, his eyes resting once more on Willy. Willy shook his head. “Well, that’s good enough for me. Maybe Mirror built up some extra power he couldn’t control. What do you think o’ that?”

“Possible, possible,” Willy nodded, smiling. “As said in ‘Sherlock Holmes’, once you rule out the impossible, what remains however shocking, must be the truth, or somethin’ like that, but our problem is that what happened was, according to most people, ‘impossible’.”

“Y’know what?” Shawn rolled his eyes, and dipped Willy, making him laugh. “I don’t quite think I care enough to find out what caused it. What matters is yer safe down here on earth with me.”

“Agreed,” Willy’s chuckle was infectious, and Shawn found himself grinning as his fiance kissed his cheeks, once left, once right. “You’re my lovely leprechaun, you know? LepreShawn. It works, doesn’t it?”

“Terribly,” Shawn wrinkled his nose, but his eyes twinkled. “Terribly well, that is.”

***

The next incident occurred while they were at work. Shawn was happily stitching away at his quota of dolls, prideful that it was coming along smoothly. Johan did not mind one in every few dolls to have crooked smiles, he laughed and remarked that it gave them personality and would make them collectors items, and Shawn was more than happy to agree, remarking that the man’s ass could also potentially be a collector’s item. Whist Joey was clearly not amused, Henry certainly was.

“Is there no time that you don’t think about fella’s butts, though?” Willy had questioned later, brown eyes sparkling with mirth. Shawn could just imagine the kick Mirror was getting out of those words, and decided to indulge the man.

“Not really,” Shawn shrugged one shoulder to keep his grip on his paintbrush. “All this irish brain thinks about is butts and stuff.”

“And stuff?” Willy rose a brow, his lips twitching in amusement. “What kind of stuff?”

“How much I’d like to sweep you off your feet,” Shawn replied, finally looking up to the man - and realizing that he was hovering beside his loft, not merely standing beside him in his usual work station. “Um. Wills? How’d you get up here? Some sort of voodoo hoodoo magic again?”

Willy looked down.

“Huh. Didn’t notice again,” he remarked, pursing his lips. He looked so positively adorable that Shawn just had to kiss him, and so he did. Willy shrieked as gravity grabbed him, and his arms instinctively wrapped around Shawn’s shoulders and pulled him down with him. Luckily, they landed on two giant plushies, a Boris and a Charlie. They looked at each other with wide eyes, bursting into laughter and surprise. “I’m really startin’ to think that Mirror is up to something with doing that.”

“That whippersnapper tryin’ to make us kiss?” Shawn laughed, and Willy laughed happily along. A mischievous light Shawn adored came into his eye. He leaned close to whisper in a sing-song tone, “Somethin’s on your mind….”

“We can fool him, if you wanna know how,” he replied, grinning coyly. “Play the same trick back, if you will.”

“Oh?” Shawn felt an excitement bloom in his chest as he grinned in return. “And just how do we do that, muirnín?”

“Listen closely,” Willy replied, then cupped his hand by Shawn’s ear to whisper his plot. Grinning ever wider now, Shawn marveled at the cleverness of his Willy. After he finished muttering his plan, he looked at him. “What do you think, Shawn?”

“Absolutely great,” Shawn replied. “And I’m one hundred percent certain that I can get the trio’s help to make it work all the better. Even if they don’t wanna, I’ve got blackmail.”

“Even on my own brother?” Willy gasped in mock offence. Shawn stammered an excuse, silenced by a kiss. “Don’t worry, I’ll never tell him. Go on ahead. Have fun. I wish there would be a way for you to see Mirror’s reaction to it all, but alas, there ain’t.”

“I’m sure that Jameson would be happy to relay it to me,” Shawn shrugged. “It’s still a great way to get back at him.”

‘Get back at what?’ Mirror asked, returning from his foray into the lighting system after the couple had come back to earth, in that literal sense. ‘Gonna ambush Thomas for stealing his belt? Gotta see that!’

Willy only answered the demonic fae with a smile.

***

“G’night Shawn,” Willy yawned, snuggling into bed beside his partner. Shawn, wrapping an arm around him and giving a gentle squeeze, kissed his forehead. “I love ya. See ya in the morning.”

“Goodnight, Willy,” Shawn hummed. “I love you, too.”

Before long, the sleepy janitor was in dreamland, and Shawn knew that Mirror was too - unlike usually. Mirror was out like a light, thanks to some magic spells of binding that Joey found for them.

Shawn slipped out of bed, and let in Jameson and the three boyfriends.

Jameson glanced around, then up at the ceiling corner. He nodded with a slight smile.

“Alright,” Shawn whispered, feeling his own smile grow. “Let’s do this, then.”

***

Mirror, groggy, stretched out each unnatural joint in his body, neck cracking in forty places.

He found everything, everything, upside down.

Even the pictures on the walls.

Confused by the situation, he looked around, seeing Willy and Shawn still cuddling in bed, in their upside down bed.

He had no idea what was happening, and even his unending humor seemed quenched by the encapsulation of his world literally upside down.

Needless to say, he disliked it. Immensely. He poked Willy’s face with a fingerlike claw to wake him fully, and the man rose a brow as he gazed at him.

‘Why is everything on the ceiling,’ he demanded, his voice crackling without humor, but with confusion and mild curiosity. Willy only tilted his head in question to understand. ‘You’re on the ceiling.’

“I most definitely am not on the ceiling,” Willy mumbled in reply, snuggling back into Shawn’s side to stifle his laughter. “You’re on the ceiling.”

‘I am not!’ Mirror gasped, then spasmed with mirth. ‘How can I be on the ceiling?’

“Maybe you lost track of how gravity works,” Willy cuddled closer to Shawn. “That’s something a demon like ya could do, right?”

‘I don’t think so,’ Mirror replied, and burst out into laughter, some shocked, some self incriminating. ‘I’m pretty sure that ain’t somethin’ I can do.’

“You can’t switch off gravity?” Willy inquired, peering at him with one eye. “That’s not one of your nut job abilities?”

‘It is, though I am limited to my tormentees,’ Mirror guffawed, then froze, looking at Willy with big eyes that still held merriment. ‘Oh ho ho, Mister Clever Willy, caught me red handed, huh?’

“Precisely,” Willy replied, smug. Shawn poked his head up, looking to his fiance. “G’morning, Shawn.”

“Top o’ the mornin’ to you, Willy,” Shawn yawned. He grimaced after. “Feels weird to wake up like this. Did the demon fess up?”

“Just did,” Willy flipped off Mirror, making the devil stick his tongue out at the two. “Apparently he can’t switch off gravity for everyone.”

“Wouldn’t be surprised if he secretly could,” Shawn muttered. Mirror settled onto Willy’s head, shrinking to be a size relative to a ping pong ball. “Er, Wills, question.”

“Yeah, love?”

“How the hell do we get down from here?”

Everything had been nailed to the ceiling. And they were taped to their bed. Willy had evidently not thought of that.

“Um.”

“Very much um.”

***

It took a while, effort, and Shawn falling flat on his face, but in time, they managed to get down and right everything to its proper location. Shawn counted about three hundred nails before he lost track, and Willy was snoozing on the couch yet again from the work out.

Shawn looked over the edge of his book when the motion of Willy stretching his arms caught his eye, and to his surprise, he noticed Willy floating once more, about two feet above the couch’s cushions. It was, admittedly, the perfect height for Shawn to put his arms under him to hold him, even weightless, so he did. Acting on his impulse merely was something Shawn tended to do and benefited (or lost) from doing so.

“Hello, darling Willy of mine,” Shawn greeted the waking man. Willy grinned and kissed him, and plopped into Shawn’s arms. “I love you. Floating or not.”

“I love you, Shawn,” Willy responded happily. “It looks like Mirror wanted to get the last laugh. Kudos to him for the effort, doncha think?”

“Yep,” Shawn beamed. “All in all, ‘twas an excellently fun time for all of us, I suppose.”

Willy glanced over his shoulder and frowned for a moment, rolling his eyes.

“What did Mirror say?” Shawn asked with curiosity. Willy shrugged. “Aw, come on, tell me!”

“He commented on a threesome idea,” Willy grumbled, and Shawn laughed. “I’d rather not have that spawn of the devil involved with you and me.”

“And I’m pretty sure he was only joking, Willy,” Shawn assured him. Willy sighed and nodded. “He did do a good job of making us weightless though.”

“I’d rather have another kiss.”

“Anything for you, muirnín.”

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shadowthrone-ammanas · 5 years

Note

1(Takes place in a different timeline. It might be too much so feel free to delete this if you want. You’re a great writer and I understand if you do.) prompt: Hat Kid was having a horrible day. The morning had started out great, but that was the best it got. Cooking Cat finally built up her self esteem enough for her to start talking. She was almost completely mute, but when she started warming up to her friends CC helped her build up courage to start speaking to her friends. Today was

Thank you for the request! I changed it to better fit how I prefer to write mostly Hat Kid, but Snatcher a bit too. I also ended up making their fight worse because that sweet, sweet angst calls to me. I hope that’s okay.

English

Speaking English was hard. Not the understanding of it, Hat Kid had a special app on her phone to help her with that until she’d mastered it – which had happened fairly quick because she was apparently a ‘prodigy’ which meant she was supposedly super smart or something – the wonders of coming from a technologically advanced civilization. But making the sounds for it was tough, thankfully physically possible for her to do but very difficult, unnatural, and uncomfortable.

She was getting the hang of it though. She practiced alone in her ship with only Rumbi as a witness, using the language app on her phone for guidance and recording. She wanted the first time she spoke in English to someone to be perfect. She was a ‘prodigy’ after all, people expected great things from her all the time, she couldn’t be seen struggling to do something as simple as speaking a language she already completely understood.

Right now, everyone thought she was mute. She hadn’t told them that, just let them assume it. When she spoke perfect clear understandable English to them, they were going to be so surprised. She’d probably bend the truth a little in explanation, say her vocal cords wouldn’t let her speak English but she’d fixed it with some alien tech she’d devised. No one should question that because aliens and magic could explain away anything and everything.

When finally at long last, she was able to speak whole tongue twisters with clear diction, she decided it was finally time to go talk to someone. After wishing Rumbi a quick “Farewell,’ – speaking English of course – she beamed down to the planet, Mafia Town to be precise.

She was never really sure where to find Mu but Cooking Cat’s studio was always a good place to look. Except she wasn’t there, neither was Cooking Cat or any of the film crew. Checking their house revealed the same thing. It was possible they were off on another business trip for the show even though they’d just come back from the Metro like two weeks ago. So, Hat Kid didn’t look many more places before giving up and moving on to Dead Bird Studio.

She found the directors brainstorming in DJ Grooves’ dressing room, the bigger of the two dressing rooms. They were sitting side by side and hunched in, looking at what was presumably the script for their next collab movie. They both looked up at her as she stepped in and closed the door behind her loud enough for them to hear.

“Hey darling,” DJ Grooves said. “You need something?”

“Yes, hello lass,” the Conductor said, speaking much more offhandedly. “We’re kind of busy right now so make it quick.”

Now was the moment of truth. The first English words she would speak to real people. If she messed this up, she would be haunted by it forever. She took a deep breath and put on a smile. “Hello Conductor. Hello DJ Grooves.” Yes! Perfect, she’d nailed it.

They both froze staring at her in silence. Eventually the Conductor broke it. “You can speak?”

“Yep, sure can. I always could, just not English. I’m an alien, remember? My vocal cords and stuff are different than yours. But I fixed it and now I can speak English too. Cool, right?” Still speaking flawlessly. Why had she ever been worried? She was a natural at this. … Sort of anyway, it had taken a lot of practice, more than she would ever admit to anyone.

The Conductor and DJ Grooves exchanged a look and had a quick whispered exchange she couldn’t make out. They then turned back to face her. “Darling, you know what this means, right?”

“Uh… no, what does it mean?”

“It means we can now cast you in speaking roles. The people are going to absolutely love you even more than they did before.”

“Yep,” the Conductor said. “We’re actually working on a script right now, almost done with it actually. One of the roles would be perfect for you now that you can speak. Want to see?” He held up the messy bunch of papers the two of them had been working on when Hat Kid came in.

She wasn’t sure she was ready for that kind of thing yet. But she couldn’t say ‘no’, could she? She didn’t want them to know she wasn’t entirely confident in her speech so… “Okay.” She liked working with them anyway even if from here on out how she worked with them would probably be very different. That was fine though, she needed the speech practice anyway.

Turns out carrying a proper conversation and even acting out a few lines in English was more difficult than Hat Kid had thought it’d be. She didn’t mess up only out of sheer willpower not to because she got really close quite a few times, making the whole ordeal rather stressful. She got out as soon as she reasonably could, leaving feeling exhausted.

She should probably take a break, chill out on her ship for a while, playing video games or something. But she’d only talked to two people so far. She wanted to talk to at least one more before calling it quits for the day. Snatcher was the natural choice; he was her BFF and most of the time he wasn’t super chatty so a conversation with him shouldn’t be too taxing.

When she beamed down to Subcon, Snatcher wasn’t in his large reading hollow. Meaning Hat Kid had to go find him. Which was fine, walking through the woods was always nice. She found him in Subcon Village with all the Subconites standing in front of him, listening to whatever he was saying. Which Hat Kid didn’t get to hear any of because he stopped talking as soon as she stepped into the village.

“You are all dismissed,” he said, speaking to the Subconites who quickly scattered. “What do you want kid? I’m busy.” And apparently rather grouchy about it. So maybe now wasn’t a good time to talk to him but she’d already disturbed him so… whatever. Her revealing her ability to speak should cheer him up a bit anyway though, right?

“Hello Snatcher,” she said with a smile and a wave.

He paused in surprise but… he seemed unimpressed, crossing his arms as he frowned at her. “So you can speak now huh?” He didn’t seem to be acting either, he seemed to genuinely not care.

“Yep, sure can. Actually, I could…”

“I really don’t care kid,” he interrupted. “I have more important things to worry about right now. So peck off and talk to any of your dumb friends who do care. Just get out of my forest.” He made a shooing gesture towards her.

It was probably because Hat Kid was already tired but she was far more hurt by Snatcher’s words than she normally would be. It made her angry because she’d worked so hard on learning how to speak and he didn’t care. “You’re mean,” she said, glaring up at him.

“Have you only just now figured that out kid? You’re real slow on the uptake there, huh?” He grinned at her, mocking her, making her angrier.

“Peck you,” she said, pointing at him. “I hate you. You’re worse than Vanessa. I hope she finds you again, you two deserve each other.” She said it because it was the worst thing that came to her in the moment. There were worse things she could’ve said for sure but… this was bad enough; she regretted the words as soon as they were out of her mouth.

His grin vanished; his expression suddenly unreadable but it certainly wasn’t just furious. “Yeah well, I wished you’d stayed mute, you little brat. Now get out of my forest.”

Hat Kid sensed energy building beneath her feet. She jumped out of the way just in time to avoid one of Snatcher’s magic blasts. He didn’t follow it up with another one though. Instead he just looked at her in silence, his expression still unreadable.

Hat Kid should apologize, right? What she’d said was way out of line. But… what he’d said and done wasn’t any better, wasn’t it? Who had started it though? … She was no longer sure.

Instead of doing anything to try to fix it, she pulled out her phone and beamed herself back up to her ship. She didn’t want Snatcher to see her tears should she fail to fight them off. And he wanted her to leave anyway, rightfully so too, meaning she should, considering what had just happened. She’d apologize later when they’d both had some time to calm down.

For this request event.

#My Writing #Ahit #A Hat In Time #snatcher & hat kid #fighting #angst #Hat Kid is very much an alien

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awkwardbluefish · 5 years

Text

A Roomate or Two

—

Summary: Jason isn’t happy with what they do with Tim. Especially after not what happened to him. I mean being tortured into a baby joker? Yeah that wouldn’t be fun.Not at all. So what if he has an extra person to look after? It should be fine.

Warnings: mentions of torture and panic attacks

A/n: @aloofwindbag inspired me with their magnificent drawing so enjoy!

—

Jason sees red when he sees Tim. He’s small, tiny really and that straight jacket? It engulfed him.

“Hey buddy,” Jason says and hauntingly sad green eyes meet his. The once blue eyes widen before the boy glances down, shuffles his feet.

“You don’t like me,” he whispers and Jason cringes.

Cause yeah, he didn’t like this kid. Before that is. When he was still fucked up by the Lazarus and he wasn’t right in the head. He still wasn’t right, didn’t think he’d ever be again but at least he had his goddamn head out of his ass now.

He coughs and shrugs, clicking at hinges and pulling off the hood. He hooks it under his arm and leans against the white wall behind it. “Eh that was in the past. You’re all right kid, better than Dickie, that’s for sure.”

He doesn’t miss the way Tim curls into himself at the name, well, nickname. Jason doesn’t narrow his eyes but it’s a damn close thing. What the hell did the golden boy do now? Well, he could take a guess.

Tim swallows and Jason eyes the stark white neck at the motion. Anger coils around his gut tight, just like a fuckin’ cobra. If Bruce has just ended that bastard, none of this would be happening. How many robins does he need to lose because he can’t break one rule that could save thousands?

“Bruce doesn’t think so,” comes the whisper and the trembling starts. His arm move under the fabric and he starts rocking.

“When does Bruce ever think?” Jason jokes. It falls to deaf ears. “Oi, replacement- what are you doing?! Stop that!”

Laughter spills from his chapped lips and Jason is rushing forward. The helmet clanks against white tiles as he shoves Tim to his chest. The boy trembles, green eyes wide as tears spill down his pale cheeks. His lips are stretched up into a tortured grin and Jason tugs the boy’s face into his shoulder.

He holds him and he holds him tight. The laughter echoes in the room, only stopping for a wet hiccup or two. Jason rocks them, hand fisted in a green hair. He feels sick, bile licking at the back of his throat. Tim doesn’t belong here.

And he’s going to get him fuckin’ out.

—

Jason has more nightmares and Tim notices. He tried so damn hard to keep them down, to kick them the fuck out of his head. That hadn’t work.

He should’ve known Tim wouldn’t sleep well. It’s should’ve been obvious, obvious like the sky is blue and waters wet. And yet now he’s tracking the little shit through Gotham, on the first night god damn it, keeping an eye out for a pipsqueak with sickly green hair.

It takes two fuckin’ hours and now he knows why Alfred is basically bold. All of his hair is going to go white and this point. He isn’t even twenty five yet dammit.

Jason pointedly makes noise as he walks into the alley. Tim flinches before relaxing as the cat bumps their head under his chin. Well shoot, that’s just cute ain’t it?

“Looks like I found two runaways,” He drawls and Tim peers up at him under long murky hair.

He ducks again, avoiding Jason’s eyes. He huffs and moves forward, plonking himself on his ass, on most likely pissed on ground, to be closer to the kid. The things he does for the little runt.

The black cat hisses at him, ears flattened and fur on end. “Shove it,” Jason tells it wisely just as Tim soothes the little kitten with soft whispers.

It’s quiet for a while but then again Jason wasn’t ever one for patience. “I know why you ran,” he informs the boy and Tim tenses, refusing to meet his eye, “and frankly it’s a load of bullshit.”

“I have nightmares of that fucker, not you Tim. Joker did this to me, to us and you are not responsible for it at all. I have nightmares, yeah I’m man enough to admit it and so does everyone. I just got to get the fuck over it.”

Jason’s had enough of this sappy bullshit so he heaved himself up, patting down his butt because it’s wet and it hasn’t rained at all today. He just hopes he didn’t sat in piss. That wouldn’t be fun.

“C’mon kid. It’s one in the morning but I’m craving pancakes so we’re freakin’ getting some.” He informs them and he sees Tim smile. It’s small but it’s genuine. It’s his own smile, not one that was forcefully carved onto his face. Jason decides to ignore the mushy feeling in his chest. Yep, no need for that.

He makes a move to stand, freezing when the kitten mewls loudly in protest, claws digging into white pants. Tim freezes while Jason makes a mental note to go shopping. Yeah, that might be a good idea.

“Are you and the feline coming or what?” He grumbles, smirking when the look of shock and restrained joy crosses the kids face.

“We’re keeping her?” He asks and of course the little nerd would already know the cats gender. Jason most likely wouldn’t of even checked.

“She’s fiesty,” he tells him, hooking an arm around the boys waist and pulling the two tight to his person. “I like it.”

—

Jason’s watching the two passed out on his worn out white couch when he gets the call. He should have been expecting it, because of course they would know.

He makes sure he’s away from the brats before he accepts it. He doesn’t want to wake them up, and he doesn’t want Tim to hear this. Because whatever goes down Jason knows he’s not going to like it, not one fuckin’ bit.

“Where is he.” Bruce demands as soon as he answers. Jason rolls his eyes, leaning against the fire escape and rolling a ciggie between his lips.

He sucks the cancer in, letting it out slowly. He can feel Bruce’s impatience over the phone. Good, he thinks, let the fucker wait for a bit.

“Well hello to you to,” He drawls out lazily, uncaringly. He would rather be watching the two strays sleeping, it was- dare he say it- nice watching them both relax. Ew, he’s gone soft. Gross.

“Where is he.” He growls again and Jason smirks, he likes making him angry. It’s the least he deserves.

“I haven’t a clue of who you’re talking about,” Jason informs him, eyeing the wonderful view. A brick wall right in front of his apartment, how lucky can a guy get?

“I’m not playing games Jason,” Bruce begins, voice low and growled. “Where is Tim?” Bruce apparently isn’t playing around, and isn’t that a bummer. Because Jason isn’t either.

“Why the fuck do you want to know?” He cuts in, fingers tightening around the railway. He doesn’t want to get rid of the disposable phone just yet. He needs to hear Bruce’s so called excuse.

Bruce sighs like he’s just a kid and doesn’t know what he is doing. Well fuck you, he’s an adult now. He can do whatever the duck he wants.

“Tim is under my care,” Jason doesn’t let him finish.

“And is that why you chucked him in Arkham? Some caretaker you are,” He sneers, nice and low. The cobra is back and this time it’s ready to go in for the kill.

“Tim went through a lot,” and here comes the bullshitting, “he needs help and Arkham can give him that.”

Jason barks out a laugh, loud in the night. “You’re one of the richest men alive! You could hire anyone to help him and yet you throw him in Arkham with the crazies and expect him to be a okay?!”

“I didn’t say that-“ Bruce is angry but Jason? He’s fucking pissed.

“Exactly! You didn’t say any of that when you should have! They had him in a stray jacket and locked up like he’s a killer! You aren’t helping him Bruce, you’re pushing him away in the worst damn way possible.”

There’s blaring silence at his yell and Jason grits his teeth. He drops the ciggie and crushes it with his foot, kicking it over the balcony after.

“I know,” Bruce finally says. It’s said quietly, in a low murmur. “I failed him, I failed both of you. This is all my fault.”

“Get over yourself Bruce,” Jason snaps, “this isn’t about you and your self deprecation shit. This is about Tim, and Tim only. When you finally get your arse out of your angsty crack then we might be able to talk. Might.”

The hangs up right after, physically shaking. He always had to make it about him huh? It’s always about his failures, his mistakes. What about the people he failed? He never truly thought about that.

He scruffs a hand over his face and drags it down. He needs to go on eBay or some shot to get some furniture and nerd stuff.

He throws the phone, watching in satisfaction as it smashes against brick wall before tumbling down. Have fun tracking that old man.

It’s warmer in the house which is nice. It doesn’t feel as lonely anymore. He goes back to the lounge, flipping onto his armchair with a huff.

A tail flickers and a yellow eye flares at him as Tim stirs at the sound. Jason snorts. “Yeah, yeah you little shit. I’ll keep it down.”

A yellow slitted eye glower at him a second longer before closing and Jason resists groaning. He’ll have to get shit for the damn cat too, dang it.

Maybe he can get Barbara to help with that. She could give him Bruce’s credit card and his information. Yeah, that’ll work.

—

“Why did you do that?” Jason asks quietly, desperately.

He holds the soaked boy to his chest as he wraps his hands in a white bandage. His fists are split and purple, painfully bruised.

Tim doesn’t answer and Jason sighs, tying the bandage. He buries his nose in green hair, taking in the scent of fresh coconut.

They’re sat in the bathroom, glass cracked and splintered around them. Tim is shaking, staring at a piece of glass with unseeing eyes.

Jason tears his gaze away, understanding and guilt knowing on his chest. It looks just like him, with the green hair and eyes. Tim’s blood is smeared on it, making a bloody grin. Tim doesn’t see himself when he looks in the mirror, he sees the joker.

“I got some left over black hair dye,” Jason says quietly and Tim just nods, eyes haunted and desperate. Jason holds him a little bit closer.

—

They cut his hair first.

It’s a mangled heap and it genuinely looks like a birds nest. Jason knows the brushing has too hurt, because seriously, how couldn’t it?

Tim doesn’t even flinch though. That doesn’t settle right with Jason so he apologises after every yank and after every tangle is cleared. Tim accepts it with a small amused smile but his eyes? They remained haunted and empty.

—

According to Glamour it’s a good thing Tim’s hair hasn’t been washed in a couple of days. Jason thinks otherwise but he keeps that to himself as he starts the process of dying. Heh.

First Jason lathers the dye in his hands, snickering at the sound it makes. Tim smiles slightly at him, a small twitch of the lips.

He applies the dye half an inch away from Tim’s scalp. He massages his locks and slowly made his way towards the ends of the locks. After a bit he goes back and cover the roots, smiling when Tim finally began to relax into his hands like putty.

At least he’s finally getting comfortable.

—

“Tim- Tim oh my god,” Jason is saying and the little nerd is just giggling at him. “Tim stop, stop look at this little shit!”

Tim lets out an hilarious snort that Jason would have loved to film but he’s too busy gaping at the prancing little shit in front of them.

She- that damn cat- was red! Red! “I let her on my couch, oh my god Tim I let her on my couch.”

Tim looses it, curling into himself as Babs, the newly named orange cat, climbs up his back and curls around his neck. A yellow eye peers into Jason’s soul and Jason swears the thing is smirking.

“Tim, Tim my couch is white. White.”

—

“Is he safe?” Is the first thing he hears when he answers the call.

Jason sighs into the receiver, adjusting the mobile to fit more comfortably against his ear. His hands were loaded with shopping bags. At least he’s taken his helmet off. Yes, yes he did go shopping as Red Hood. Fuck You, he does what he wants.

“That depends,” he says, heaving ten grocery bags onto the counter. He glances behind him, smiling when a soft snort reached his ears. “Do you consider me safe?”

“You’re better than half of the people in Gotham,” Barbara tells him, voice laced with anger and annoyance. Jason knows it’s not at him, it’s at this damn city. The damn world.

“You’re too sweet to me,” Jason informs her, ruffling through the bags and taking out the freezer stuff.

“I know, and I’ll continue to be if you take care of Tim.” Barbara says simply. There’s ruffling on the other end and he guesses she’s in bed.

He silent for a moment, shoving the meat and frozen peas away. “You know I will,” he finally says, “as long as you and Alfie come visit of course.”

“What about Dick?” She asks and Jason slams the freezer shut accidentally. “...I’m guessing that’s a no.”

He cringes as a warning meow and and a flick of a tail is directed at him over the couch. Yeah, he deserves that one.

“Of course it’s a fuckin’ no. He did nothing to stop Bruce from putting Tim in Arkham. Hell, he didn’t even go to find Tim with you guys on that night. He not getting near him in a 10 mile radius or I’m kicking his arse.” Jason curses and Barbara laughs slightly.

“Watch your language,” she teases and just like that the mood is lighter. Just a bit. “You got a kid in the house now.”

“Fuck you,” Jason wisely replies back, slotting the drinks into the fridge. He shuts the door quietly, well aware of the Brady yellow eyes aimed at the back of neck. “And for your information I have a kid and a cat in the house, so suck it.”

“Wait-,” Jason snickers at the sudden ruffling, placing the biscuits and chips into the cabinet. “You guys have a cat? Since when?”

“Since Tim ran away because he thought he was the reason for my nightmares. Found the brat in the alley with the stray. She was black Barbara, then she was red. I let her on my couch, my couch.”

Barbara is chuckling softly, clearly amused at Jason’s distress. “The next thing you know she’ll be going purple,” she teases and Jason scowls, folding up the bags and sticking them in the bottom draw.

“I was prepared this time. I got a blanket on the couch, nice try little fucker.” He declares proudly, taking off his jacket and hanging it on the back of the couch. Babs stares at him before curling into Tim’s chest happily.

“Please tell me you didn’t call it little fucker.” Barbara says despairingly and Jason smirks.

“Nope!” He sings.

“What’d you call it then?” She asks and Jason grins. She’s just gonna have to wait.

“You’re gonna have to wait my dear,” he teases and Barbara groans, “you shall know when you come visit!”

She laughs at that and Jason can imagine her shaking her head. “You tease, okay then. You’ll have the money by tomorrow morning so try to get everything sorted out then, yeah?”

“Yes ma’am,” Jason murmurs, smiling softly. Oh god, he’s gone soft. How gross.

—

“Tim, tim please stop! It’s just lightning, he’s not here!” Jason says desperately, holding Tim wrists to stop him from scratching at himself.

Tim just screams, tears streaming down his pale cheeks, eyes screwed up and chin trembling. Spit bubbles past his lips when he sobs out a hiccup, fighting desperately against his memories.

Jason doesn’t know what to do so he holds him tight in his arms. His forearms are soon bleeding, scratched at by nails that are far too long and dirty. It stings but he doesn’t complain, just holding tight.

Babs watch them warily from the couch, tail flickering in concern as Jason begins rocking them back and forth. Thunder clashes and Tim screams again, sobbing harder and shaking his head.

“It’s just thunder,” Jason reassures, rocking them softly. “It just thunder. You’re okay Timmy, you’re with me and Babs. You’re home,” he whispers.

Tim doesn’t seem to hear him but Jason repeats it like a mantra. The storm rages on for another four hours. Tim only slackens into his arms after three.

Neither of them sleep that night.

—

“I’m sorry,” Tim says as daylight flickers in through the glass door of the fire escape.

Jason shakes his head, running a hand through his new raven and greasy locks. “You never have to apologise for being scared. Never. Just remembered you’re safe here, no one will ever hurt you here.”

The boy nods and Jason holds him tighter, both watching as the shadows are chased to the corners of the apartment. Babs craws into Tim’s lap and licks at his chin.

“You’re home.” Jason repeats and this time Tim hears it. He nods.

—

“You still wanna be a vigilante?” Jason asks, flipping an egg.

Tim nods fiercely and strong and Jason sighs in amusement. He plates the egg on some toast and slides it across the bench to Tim.

“I do. I won’t kill, I won’t. Not- not again.” He murmurs and Jason nods, reaching over to ruffle his raven locks before going over to turn off the stove. He bats Babs away from the pan as he does.

“I don’t expect you to,” Jason says and then, “do you have a name?”

“Outlast.”

#tim drake #jason todd #dc #barbara gordon #batfamily #batsiblings #batbrothers #mine #my writing

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bamby0304 · 5 years

Text

Her Saviours- Ch.20

Series Masterlist

Summary: During an odd case, the Winchesters came across Y/N, a scared young Omega girl who had been used as a lure for a nest of vampires. After rescuing her from the monsters, John and his sons took her in knowing she was in no state to live among ordinary people. But three Alphas and one Omega is a mixture bound for disaster.

Warnings: Explicit language. ABO dynamics. Angst. Smut. Unprotected sex.

Bamby

You’d caved. Sam’s challenge had gotten to you, and now there was no way you were sitting this case out.

“Dean, all morning you’ve tried to get me to stay in the motel room, and the whole drive here you’ve been begging me to stay in the car.” You looked over your shoulder at him as Sam climbed the chain link fence surrounding the asylum. “I’m not sitting on the bench this time.”

“I don’t want you to get hurt,” he argued, huffing as he stepped in front of you.

“And I don’t want my life and choices slipping through my hands. I’m doing this, and that’s final.”

Turning your back on him, you reached for the fence and started up. Both brothers were there, moving to assist you, but as you reached the top and straddled the fence, you rolled your eyes at them. They were so concerned about you getting hurt, it might’ve been cute if it wasn’t so annoying.

Flipping your leg over to the other side, you got a good grip and started to climb down until it was safe enough to let go. Jumping down, you surprised the boys by landing on your two feet safely.

Dusting your hands on your jeans, you gave them each a nod. “I got this.”

Climbing the fence, it was Dean’s turn to surprise you as he flipped himself over the top and landed on his own two feet right in front of you. It was… it was hot.

Standing up straight, looking down at you with his lips pulled up into a smirk, he gave a short nod. “Okay… let’s do this.”

...

As you entered the asylum, Sam started to explain what the cop had told him, “So apparently the cops chased the kids here.” He gestured to a sign over one of the doors. “Into the south wing.”

“South wing, huh? Wait a second.” Reaching into his jacket, Dean pulled out John’s journal. After flipping through a few pages, he found what he was looking for. “1972. Three kids broke into the south wing, only one survived. Way he tells it, one of his friends went nuts and started lighting up the place.”

“So whatever's going on, the south wing is the heart of it,” Sam noted.

“But if the kids are spelunking the asylum, why aren't there a ton more deaths?” Dean had a good point.

Stepping up to the south wing door, you kicked at some chains on the ground. “Looks like it use to be chained up.”

“Could’ve been closed off for years,” Sam added, stepping beside you.

“Yeah, to keep people out… or to keep something in?”

Dean’s question had you and Sam turned to him, an uneasy feeling settling in your stomach.

“Still wanna join in on the case?” Dean asked you, the same challenging tone in his voice that had been in Sam’s the other night.

Standing up straighter, you gave a firm nod. “Yep.”

...

Walking through the halls of the south wing, you couldn’t ignore the eerie feeling you got from the place. You were usually fine dealing with ghosts, but considering you were still a little shaky from the shapeshifter case, you weren’t one hundred perfect confident. The fact you had to work in an asylum made it all a little worse.

Asylums tend to have bad energies, especially the old ones. The older they were, the worse the people were treated. Sure, this one wasn’t too old… but you could tell that some serious shit had gone down behind these walls.

“Let me know if you see any dead people, Haley Joel.” Dean grinned at his little joke.

Sam rolled his eyes at his brother. “Dude, enough.”

“I'm serious. You gotta be careful, all right? Ghosts are attracted to that whole ESP thing you got going on.”

“I told you, it's not ESP!” Sam snapped. He was really getting sick and tired of Dean pestering him about whatever was going on with him. “I just have strange vibes sometimes. Weird dreams.”

“Yeah, whatever.” Shaking his head, Dean numbled, “Don't ask, don't tell.”

“You get any reading on that thing or not?” Sam asked, gesturing to the EVP in Dean’s hand.

“Nope. Of course, it doesn't mean no one's home.”

“Spirits can't appear during certain hours of the day,” Sam suggested.

“Yeah, the freaks come out at night.”

“Yeah.”

You got the feeling Dean was going beg you to stay back when the brothers inevitably returned at night. You honestly wouldn’t be surprised if he got down on his knees and literally begged. Hell, you wouldn’t even put it past him to tie you to the motel bed.

Fortunately for you, Sam wouldn’t allow that. He wanted you to have the freedom you wanted, so he would keep his brother from locking you down. In the long run, however, you weren’t sure if that was such a good thing.

“Hey Sam,” Dean spun on his heels to face his brother then, “who do you think is the hotter psychic? Patricia Arquette, Jennifer Love Hewitt, or you?”

Sam didn’t bother with a verbal response, choosing to punch his brother in the shoulder instead.

Laughing, Dean continued down the hall with a little pep in his step.

...

Entering another room, you shuddered at the sight of all the medical equipment. All the leftover and rusting tools, jars full of liquids you really didn’t want identified. It all had that horror movie vibe to it… the longer you stuck around, the better the motel room was looking.

But you weren’t going to chicken out now. You had to prove to yourself and the Winchesters that you could do this. You could control your life… you didn’t need them saving you all the time.

Dean whistled as he moved about the room. “Man. Electro-shock. Lobotomies. They did some twisted stuff to these people.” He turned to grin at you and Sam. “Kinda like my man Jack in Cuckoo's Nest.”

Rolling your eyes, you moved further into the room, stepping up to the dusty and rusty medical bed. You felt Sam come up behind you and rest his hand on your hip where Dean couldn’t see it.

“You okay?” he asked, voice low and genuinely concerned.

Now… you weren’t a freak. You were not getting turned on by the medical equipment, or the danger… but having Sam nearby? Suddenly you felt a little flush. You could feel his fingers slipping under your shirt ever so slightly, and the first brush of skin on skin made you gasp and lean back into him.

His grip on your hip tightened as your back pressed against his chest. “Y/N?” While his voice was still low, the concern had given way to something a little more husky.

“So, what do ya think?” Dean asked from the other side of the room. With his back facing the two of you, he didn’t see Sam jump away from you. “Ghosts possessing people?”

Clearing his throat, Sam shrugged. “Maybe. Or maybe it's more like Amityville, or the Smurl haunting.”

“Spirits driving them insane. Kinda like my man Jack in The Shining.” Dean grinned again, turning to you and Sam then.

Sam scoffed. “Dean… when are we going to talk about it?”

“Talk about what?”

“About the fact Dad's not here.”

At the mention of John, you pulled away and turned around, not wanting to face the conversation. Not wanting to hear it, either. If you weren’t so concerned about being possessed by some psychotic ghosts, you would’ve walked away. Unfortunately you couldn’t, which meant you had to stick around and listen to them.

“Oh. I see. How ’bout… never,” Dean answered, side stepping his brother and moving towards you. Wrapping an arm around your waist, he leaned in to kiss your shoulder, knowing how the conversation was bound to make you feel.

“I'm being serious, man. He sent us here-”

Dean spun around and cut Sam off, “So am I, Sam. Look, he sent us here, he obviously wants us here. We'll pick up the search later.”

“It doesn't matter what he wants,” Sam argued.

“See? That attitude? Right there? That is why I always get the extra cookie.” You could feel Dean’s grin as he leaned in one more time to press another kiss to your shoulder.

You glanced over at Sam and saw him glaring at his brother. “Dad could be in trouble, we should be looking for him. We deserve some answers, Dean. I mean, this is our family we're talking about.”

“I understand that, Sam, but he's given us an order.”

“So what, we gotta always follow Dad's orders?”

“Of course we do.”

“Because he’s Pack Alpha?”

“Because he’s our dad!” Dean snapped.

“I’ve had enough.” Shrugging away from Dean, you stormed out of the room, not caring if you were going to get possessed by some evil spirits. At least then you wouldn’t have to deal with the brothers bickering so much.

Storming through the building, you were glad you didn’t bump into any spirits as you pushed through the front doors. As soon as the fresh air hit your face, you looked up at the blue sky and took in a deep calming breath.

“Y/N!”

“Great,” you groaned, walking down the steps of the building. “Here we go.”

When Sam jogged out of the building, he was surprisingly alone.

Spotting you at the bottom of the few steps, standing with your arms crossed over your chest, he let out a relieved breath. “I know I said you’re strong, but you shouldn’t walk off by yourself in a haunted asylum.”

“Made it out alive, didn’t I?” you countered, raising a pointed eyebrow at him.

Huffing, he walked down the steps to stand in front of you. “I’m not trying to control you, I just don’t want you to get hurt.”

“Funny, because you don’t want me to get hurt yet you bitch about your dad right in front of me knowing how it’s gonna make me feel.”

“That’s not me trying to hurt you. That’s me trying to get Dean to see things my way. To agree that we need to stop doing crap like this and start going out there actively looking for Dad.”

“Stop trying, Sam! Dean isn’t going to listen! John is pack Alpha, he gives the orders, Dean follows them. And now that he’s the oldest Alpha, he’s got superiority over you. So suck it up, because you’re not gonna get your way. He’s doing the job, I suggest you learn to do the same.”

“And what if I can’t? What if I can’t listen to his orders? Or Dad’s? What if I can’t stand back and give them all the control?”

“I don’t know Sam, but that’s how things run around here. It’s how they’ve always run. You didn’t like it before and you left, so what’s different now?”

Glaring down at you, hating that he had been dragged into this position, he snapped. “What’s different is that my dad is out there, possibly in danger, and we’re doing nothing about it! What’s different is that I’ve had a taste of control, and I don’t want to give it up again! What’s different is I can’t get your scent out of my goddamn head, and there’s no fucking way I’m leaving you again!”

You fell silent, staring up at him with wide eyes.

“I could walk away right now if I knew you’d come with me. I could take you away from Dean, and Dad, and all this hunting bullshit. I could do it. Neither of us deserve this life. We deserve better. I had that, I can get it back… and I can give it to you.”

Heart racing, you felt temptation start to blossom in your chest. The idea of running away, of leaving all the harshness of this life and trading it in for... for an Alpha, and pups, and a white picket fence… it was tempting, but it wasn’t you.

“I’m not that girl, Sam… I’m not Jess. I don’t want the nine-to-five job, and the two-point-five kids, and the mortgage, and the neighbourhood barbeques… that dream was taken away from me before I even knew that world existed. I’m a hunter, even if I spend most of my time on the bench. I’m not wife material, I’m not mother material, I’m not… I’m not even mate material.”

He shook his head, stepping closer to you. “Don’t say that.”

You gave a harsh laugh. “If I was worth more, I’d have a mark on my neck, but I don’t, and that’s okay. I know where I stand, and I know it’ll never change because I know the chances of finding John and getting permission to finally be claimed… I know the chances are slim. So don’t hold back because of me, Sam. I’m not worth it.” Turning on your heels, you walked away.

...

Dean and Sam walked into the motel room while you were lying on one of the beds. You’d decided to stay back and try to do some research while Sam went and talked to the old psychiatrist’s son- who happened to be a psych now, too.

As they entered the room, your eyes caught Sam’s, but quickly averted. After the talk you had with him… you needed some distance. Things were getting too muddled, too confusing.

The feelings you’d had for him years ago had been buried under the belief that he’d left you behind along with his dad and Dean, but according to Sam… that wasn’t exactly the case. According to him, he would have taken you with him if you’d agreed. He wanted to take you, wanted to be with you.

It made things… awkward, because now you weren’t sure if things were as black and white as you’d thought. It made you question how far the ‘friend’ part of your relationship stretched, and whether or not he wanted something else. Hell, it made you question what you wanted.

“What’d the doc say?” you asked, looking back down at the book in front of you.

“Tell you in the shower. Come on.” Dean stretched his hand out for you.

Looking up, you watched his hand for a moment, hesitating, and then you took a deep breath and let him help you from the bed. Entering the bathroom behind Dean, you caught Sam’s gaze in the mirror as the door closed.

Once alone, Dean let your hand go and reached over to turn the shower on. Testing the pressure and temperature, he made sure it was okay before pulling back and tugging his shirt off.

“There was a riot back at the asylum,” Dean explained as he turned to you and reached out to start unbuttoning you jeans. “The south wing is where they held the criminally insane psychos.”

As he spoke and continued to undress you, tugging your belt from your jeans now. Meanwhile you did everything you could to focus on the case. He was so close, though, and the warmth of his breath and fingers was making you woozy.

“Apparently the patients went even more nuts and took over the hospital.” He crouched down and started to slide your jeans down.

You eyes fluttered shut at the feel of his breath against your thighs. “Did… did anyone die?”

“Yeah.” Getting back up, he slid his hands under your shirt and began to slowly lift it up. “Let’s talk about it later,” he suggested, dragging his palms over yours breasts on his way up.

Cracking your eyes open, you watched him. He was pouting in that delicious way that made your knees weak. Tongue peeking out, he wet his lips as he reached your neck. There was so much focus in his eyes...

Pulling the shirt over your head, he quickly dropped it to the ground and leaned in to catch your lips with his.

Melting into the touch, you wound your arms around his neck and pulled him closer. His hands gripped your hips tightly as he backed you up until your ass hit the bathroom counter. Grunting against your lips, he lifted and sat you down on the counter.

Yelping, you pulled away at him to pout. “Warning next time… it’s cold.”

He just chuckled. “Need me to warm you up, baby?” Leaning in again, he pressed a kiss to your collarbone.

Despite the heat in your cheeks and stomach, despite the fact your were clenching around nothing, desperate for more of his touch… you hesitated. Your eyes flickered to the door as Dean trailed his lips up to suck on your neck.

“What about Sam?”

“If we’re quiet enough, he won’t hear a thing,” Dean mumbled against you.

“He can smell us, Dean,” you reminded him.

Nipping, sucking and kissing along your skin, he moved up to your ear. “Good. I want him to hear me make you scream.” Pulling back, he caught your gaze and showed you the dark lust in his. “I haven’t touched you in weeks, and I can’t fucking stand him playing the doting Alpha role. He thinks he knows what’s best… let me prove him wrong.”

“I don’t want to be a pawn in your pissing match, Dean,” you countered, brows furrowing into a glare. “I’m not some toy you can turn on and off when you see fit.”

“No… but I do enjoy turning you on.” He grinned.

When you just rolled your eyes, he stepped closer and pressed himself against your crotch. The roll of his hips made you moan as the size of him teased your folds. Already he was so hard, so needy, and it was all because of you.

“Let me have you, please.” Moving in closer, he ghosted his lips against yours as his hips continued to buck into you. “Let me make you feel good, ‘Mega.”

That’s what pushed you over the edge. The use of that title, the sound of his voice, the feel of his cock…

“Fuck, Dean…”

Lips curving into a victorious grin, Dean chuckled lightly. “That’s my girl.”

Wrapping an arm around your waist, he pulled you flush against him. His lips caught yours in a deep kiss as his free hand slid between your bodies. Distracted by the way he licked into your mouth, you didn’t focus on him as he worked on freeing himself from his jeans.

Fisting his cock, he slid the tip of it along your folds, pulling a needy whine from your throat. Teasing you a little longer, he pressed himself against your clit and circled it, causing your hips to buck off the counter. When he was sure he’d riled you up enough, he lined himself up and pressed into you in one swift thrust.

“Fuck!” You bit your lip to keep yourself from crying out again.

Dean leaned in closer grunting against your neck as he began to move steadily. His grip on your waist kept you in place, kept you close, kept you slightly angled so he could easily find that sweet spot of yours.

“Feel so good,” he mumbled against your skin. “Always feel so fucking perfect. Missed this. Missed you.”

Clinging to his shoulders, you pressed against him as much as possible as you tried to hide your face to muffle the filthy noises spilling from your lips. The way he kept thrusting into you, his hips slapping against you in just the right way so he grazed your G-spot every time… it was driving you perfectly insane.

Reaching between your bodies again, he quickly located your clit and began to work it as he sped up a little. You could feel him nearing his end in the way his pace faltered every now and then, and how his breath had grown a little ragged.

He came first, bucking as he emptied into you on a deep groan. The feel of his warmth and the grip of his fingers on your hips had you fall into your own ending.

You let out a cry as your walls clenched and pulsed around him, a rush overflowing you suddenly. Dean was right there, holding you up as you swayed a little.

His sweaty forehead pressed against your shoulder as he worked at controlling his breathing. “Fuck I needed that,” he groaned, shifting enough to press a skin against your equally clammy skin.

Humming, you nodded lazily and nuzzled into him. “Me too.”

Smiling against you, he gave you a couple more kisses and he mumbled, “Love you.”

The remaining bliss pulsating through you faded at the sound of those words as you realised… he only loved you when no one else was there to hear it.

Pulling away from him, you slid off the counter and reached for the shower. Dean watched, brows furrowed ever so slightly as he noticed the change in your attitude.

“Was it something I said?”

“There’s a job to do, Dean. You had your fun, now it’s time to get to work,” you explained, hoping the case would distract him. Sure enough, it did.

“Right.” He nodded, joining you in the shower. As you began to wash each other, he carefully asked, “Is there any way to keep you from joining Sammy and me tonight?”

“Nope,” you answered shortly. “Gotta have some kind of control of my life, Dean.”

…

Sam was keeping his distance. He was being short, with both you and Dean… and you had a feeling you knew why.

There was no way you didn’t stink like Dean and sex. Doesn’t matter how much you washed yourself in the shower, an Alpha like Sam would be able to smell it on you, and obviously he could.

Normally if an Alpha smells an Alpha on an Omega it triggers either three responses. One, the Alpha that hadn’t got lucky would deem the scent as a challenge and try to out Alpha the other one- which meant fighting, posturing, trying to woo the Omega in question. Two, the scent would be a huge warning sign and would keep other Alphas away from the Omega- like when a dog marks its territory. Three, if the Alphas are close enough, they chose to ignore the scent- they grow used to it.

In Sam’s case… he was experiencing all three. He was a strong willed Alpha that had already expressed his desire to take some control, smelling Dean on you was like a slap to the face to him- aggravating and hard to ignore. But on the other hand, he knew he had no claim on you while Dean did, and the rational part of him was trying to remind him of that. Meanwhile, the fact he was so used to the scent, and you and Dean being together, was the reason why he was choosing not to walk off.

But staying was clearly not easy.

You weren’t sure if either brother had realised it, but the tension between the three of you had both of them ‘spraying’ their scent. It was wafting off them like a bad stink as they subconsciously tried to over power each other.

The drive to the asylum had been terrible as they filled up the small space with their musky and spice scents. If you and Dean hadn’t had sex before leaving, your body probably would have gone into an early heat with all the Alpha male crap those two you suffocating you with.

“Some patients, some staff. I guess it was pretty gory. Some of the bodies were never even recovered, including our chief of staff, Ellicott,” Sam noted without looking at either you or Dean.

Dean frowned. “Whaddaya mean, never recovered?”

“Cops scoured every inch of the place but I guess the patients must've…” Sam shrugged, “stuffed the bodies somewhere hidden.”

You grimaced.

“Still glad you decided to join us?” Dean asked you.

Straightening up, you gave a short nod. “Yep.”

Rolling his eyes and shaking his head, he walked further into the asylum as he pulled out his homemade EMF reader.

“Getting readings?” Sam asked.

“Yeah, big time.”

Using the camera he’d brought along, Sam looked at the screen and scanned the hallway. “This place is orbing like crazy.”

“Probably multiple spirits out and about,” Dean noted.

“And if these uncovered bodies are causing the haunting…”

“We gotta find ’em and burn ’em,” Dean finished for Sam. “Just be careful though. The only thing that makes me more nervous than a pissed off spirit... is the pissed off spirit of a psycho killer.”

...

“You could have stayed in the car,” Dean told you as you followed him through the asylum, shotgun in hand.

“Don’t say it like you would have let it happen. You’d never leave me in the car, alone, outside a haunted asylum,” you countered.

“Yeah… well… you could have stayed at the motel.”

“And I could have stayed at Bobby’s.”

He scoffed, “No you couldn’t. He sent you off after threatening to call and tell me where you were.”

Your jaw dropped. “He told you.”

“Yep.”

“What an asshole,” you mumbled, shaking your head.

“Dean! Y/N!” Sam’s voice carried from a couple of hallways back.

Spinning on your heels, eyes wide, you realised he hadn’t been behind you this whole time. “Where the hell is Sam?”

Instead of answering, Dean grabbed your arm and pulled you along as he dashed in the direction where the voice had come from. Feet pounding on the ground, the two of you moved as fast as possibly.

As you rounded a corner, you found Sam standing in a room as a woman with a large gash in her head reached out for Sam.

“Shotgun!” Sam yelled.

“Get down!” you ordered as you raised your gun, aimed it at the ghost, and took a shot as soon as he was on the ground.

The woman disintegrated in the air.

Breathing heavily, Sam stood up again. “That was weird.”

“Yeah. You're telling me.” Dean’s eyes darted around to make sure there were no more before he walked back out of the room.

Sam was quick to follow, with you not far behind. “No, Dean, I mean it was weird that she didn't attack me,” Sam explained.

“Looked pretty aggro from where I was standing,” Dean argued.

“She didn't hurt me. She didn't even try! So if she didn't wanna hurt me then what did she want?”

As the three of you were passing a doorway to another room, something moved inside. The sound had you all freezing as your heads snapped in the direction from where the sound had come from. Already, you had your gun raised as you got ready to shoot something else.

Carefully, taking the lead, Dean stepped inside and headed towards the overturned metal bed that sat on its side in the corner. With you close behind and his torchlight in hand, Sam stepped up to Dean, took a moment, and then reached out to tip the bed upside down and out of the way.

What you were expecting was a terrifying ghost… not a teenaged Beta girl huddled on the ground.

“It's alright, we're not going to hurt you,” Dean assured her as you quickly lowered your gun. “It's okay.” He offered her a hand and helped her up. “What's your name?

“Katherine,” she answered. “Kat.”

“Okay. I'm Dean, this is Sam,” he gestured to his brother, “and that’s Y/N.” He gestured to you.

“What are you doing here?” Sam scolded.

Kat’s eyes darted around, clearly spooked. “Um. My boyfriend, Gavin.”

“Is he here?” Dean asked.

“Somewhere. He thought it would be fun, try and see some ghosts. I thought it was all just… you know… pretend.” She tugged on her cardigan and pulled it closer to her as she hugged herself. “I've seen things. I heard Gavin scream and-”

Dean was quick to cut her off before she could freak herself out more, “Alright. Kat? Come on.” He took her hand and started to lead her towards the hallway. “Sam's gonna get you out of here and then we're gonna find your boyfriend.”

Pulling her hand out of his grasp, Kat shook her head as she looked to all three of you. “No! No. I'm not going to leave without Gavin. I'm coming with you.”

“It's no joke around here, okay. It's dangerous,” Dean countered.

But she stood her ground. “That's why I gotta find him.”

Sam and Dean shared a look that clearly said they did not want to have to babysit her and look for her idiot boyfriend, because there were more pressing things they were supposed to be doing. But this wasn’t something any of you could ignore. The teens’ lives were at risk, and there was no way you were letting anything happen to either of them.

“Okay.” You gave a short nod to Kat before either brother could respond. “We’ll split up. You go with Dean, and I’ll go with Sam.” As Dean opened his mouth to argue, you turned to his brother and grabbed his hand. “Come on. The faster we find him, the faster we can get out of here,” you noted as the two of you walked out of the room, leaving Dean and Kat behind you.

Bamby

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