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alwaysbeliev · 4 years

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Oh, Arthur

pairing: Arthur x Reader

summary: Reader lives a high society life and is tired of it. When they meet a man so intriguing they can't help but let him steal a place at their dinner table, they start to hope that, maybe, there is something else to their life. Instead, they hurt him more than they may ever know.

word count: 3026

warnings: non-explicit NSFT, vague descriptions of NSFT

notes: I pulled the prompt for this from a list of phrases. I knew the general idea of what I wanted to do with it, and it took on its own life. Congratulations, Reader, you're Mary 2.0.

link on AO3

Noonday sun pierced between the curtains of the front room. The chatter of the small tea party around you was a distant hum, your focus on the spoon you held in your hand. Absentmindedly, you stirred the sugar into your tea, hardly aware of the soft clinking against the cup. Your mind was elsewhere.

Pressed against the wall, chest heaving, he kissed along your jawline and down your neck, pausing to nibble at the soft space where your neck met your shoulders. You couldn’t help but let out a soft gasp, lips parted, hands gripping the sleeves of his shirt. He smiled against your skin and exhaled, making you shiver.

The sound of your name caused your head to snap up to attention.

“Did you hear what Mrs. Hearst asked you?” Your mother stared at you expectantly. The look in her eyes was begging you to not embarrass her, but you had truthfully missed what the woman in question had asked. Heat rushed to your cheeks and you quickly pulled an apologetic smile.

“I’m so sorry,” you said graciously, dipping your head slightly, “my mind is with the clouds today. Would you mind repeating your question?”

“Oh, I do hope we’re not boring you.” Mrs. Hearst pursed her lips, accentuating the creased lines along her face that had no doubt been created solely from this repeat action. “As I was saying, my darling Charlotte has traveled to the West and is already meeting many men. She has already had three suitors calling at the door! Her brother is beside himself with contempt. Perhaps you, too, would like to go west? Unless there is someone here you have not shared with us?”

Her question hung in the air. The room was full of your mother’s friends and their children, though the rest of them were still too young to have to worry about meeting a potential spouse. You hated this conversation topic. It was always bound to come up when you had tea with these people, it was expected now after more than a few months, and you were tempted to start feigning ill when they came around.

Truthfully, you had met someone. He was the reason you were barely paying attention today. But if your family knew the type of man he was, that you were consorting with him, that you were fucking him… It was a subject you could never mention. It would ruin the family, and that was far too important a reputation to destroy. So, instead, with a barely concealed tartness, you replied, “I have not yet met someone, no, but perhaps I will write your Charlotte and help myself to her leftovers.”

A sharp gasp rang collectively around the room. Even the youngest of the children froze in their quiet playing, turning to see what had caused such a reaction among the adults, and your mother looked downright furious. It was rude to say, you knew that, but it was hot in this room and you were tired of being under a microscope once a week. There was someplace else you would much rather be.

“Perhaps you could do with some fresh air,” your mother hissed, her attempt to sound concerned for your sudden outburst not going unnoticed by some of the others. “The heat must be getting to your head.”

You gratefully took her invitation to leave, excusing yourself to the room in general. As you pushed back your chair and stood, you saw the nasty look Mrs. Hearst gave your mother and felt just a twinge of guilt; it wasn’t her fault you misbehaved. You were simply overwhelmed and didn’t appreciate being pushed around.

The air felt better in the hallway, but you carried on to the back door, stepping out onto the modest deck your father had built last summer. “For entertaining,” he had claimed, but it was primarily used for poker games amongst the men. Bright light hit your face and you blinked rapidly for a moment to adjust. It wasn’t much cooler out here, but the air moved and provided a relief from the prying words.

Taking in a deep breath, you closed your eyes and tilted your chin up, soaking in the shade and breathing in the summer air. Birds twittered in the air around you, fluttering from tree to tree. Carriages pulled by horses trundled by in front of the house, the cobblestones making a distinct clattering sound against the carefully designed wheels. Squirrels scrambled up and down tree trunks in the meticulously landscaped yard.

Flat on your back, you hungrily drank in the appearance of the man hanging over you, desperate to take in every detail of his face. His honey brown hair fell over his forehead, almost reaching his eyes as he trapped your wrists on either side of your head. His intense blue-green eyes matched the hunger in yours as he locked gazes with you. He had stubble on his chin that had been scratching your skin deliciously.

“Are you ready?” he asked, voice rough with impatience and need. You couldn’t even muster up the words to answer him, nodding vigorously as he kneeled closer to you.

“I hope you’re happy!”

The shrill sound of your mother’s voice snapped you out of your reverie. You hoped the redness on your cheeks could be excused by the temperature of the air.

“I hope she’s happy, sticking her nose into peoples’ personal business like that,” you rebutted.

“I won’t be hosting next week’s tea,” she snapped back. “And I have been very clearly not invited to the next party at the Clemens’. I don’t know where you got this sharp tongue, but you had better put it back! And quick!” With that, she whirled back inside, no doubt to try and garner sympathy from the remaining stragglers. Knowing her, she would be reinvited to the party just in time to get a new evening gown for it. Your father would be relieved at not having to go, and would grumble to you afterwards about having been forced to go anyway.

The predictability of this life was draining. You were exhausted from the parties, the expectations, the demands. Was it not enough to simply exist? Surely there was more to everything than the finest silks, the most expensive meat, the purest horses.

On an excursion you had enjoyed much more than your mother, you had seen a man outside the grocery in Strawberry. He was tall, rugged, and the most handsome you had ever seen. You had made eye contact and he raised his eyebrows, almost challenging you to approach. It had been difficult to stop yourself from smiling as you ducked your head, attempting to return your focus to the trinkets your mother was pointing out to you. His gaze continued to burn a hole in the back of your head.

Later that evening, you ate dinner in the hotel lodge, listening to your mother tear apart the decor of the room and flavor of the food. It was the cheapest meal you had ever eaten in your life, you were sure, but by far the most filling. She excused herself to bed early, leaving you to finish alone. Out of nowhere, the man from earlier slid into her vacant seat, setting a plate of his own at her place.

“Excuse me--” You tried to sound indignant, but he interrupted you.

“Forgive me if I misread your look earlier,” he drawled, “but I took it as an invitation. And I think it’d be mighty rude of you to decline, seein’ as I already have my food.”

The bluntness caused you to laugh, almost involuntarily, and he had been allowed to stay. You got along almost immediately. He was charming, his laugh deep and hearty, his manners surprising you. Up close, you could see the scars on his face, the dirt and grime of a man who rode a horse most of his days, the tanned skin from being outside for hours. He introduced himself as Arthur, but when you asked for his last name, he refused to give it. There was a strange air of secrecy to him that drew you in and made you lose track of time.

Before you knew it, the lights in the dining room were being extinguished. The waiter approached and apologized, but they were closing up and politely invited you to enjoy wine refreshment in the lobby. Nerves suddenly returned to you and you defaulted to the upstanding citizen of society you knew how to be.

“I’m sorry, my mother must be wondering where I got to.”

“Why? She seemed a lot more interested in getting the hell out of here.”

His lack of a filter surprised you, but you realized he was right. She hadn’t once responded to your fruitless efforts to lighten the mood and find the positives. It was clear she had no interest in remaining here much longer. She was probably already asleep and wouldn’t notice you were missing until she was awake again.

“I got my own room.” It was Arthur’s turn to appear shy. Despite his forward statement, he almost seemed to regret it. “We could, uh, keep talkin’ there. If you wanted.”

Talking, you definitely wanted to do. You agreed, joking lightly about your honor as a single person entering the bedroom of a man, but you found yourself following him. His room was on the opposite end of the hall from yours, your mother’s right beside yours. Neither light was on. The giddiness settled in your chest and you played with the buttons on your sleeve.

Talking, you definitely did. For about five minutes. You barely had a chance to blink when Arthur was suddenly kissing you. And you kissed him back. It wasn’t much longer until neither of you were dressed.

It had been three months since that first meeting. You had since learned much more about Arthur. He was an outlaw, running with Dutch van der Linde’s gang. He had been for a long time, and you found out after seeing a wanted poster with names of gang members listed on it. You had learned his last name, too. Morgan. He spilled everything when you brought it up after your third encounter, clothes piled on the floor, blankets mussed up around your two bare forms on the bed. Despite his appearance, Arthur was well-spoken and kind, and he was always aware of your feelings.

Standing on the porch, you wanted nothing more than to see him again, the itch to get away driving you mad. Torn, you debated running away again. Nobody would question your borrowing of a horse, you knew that wouldn’t be difficult, but you dreaded the interrogation you would have to be submitted to upon your return. The summer heat was starting to get to your head.

“A-Arthur,” you moaned, hands clenched tightly on ruffled sheets, not even caring who might hear. The pace was driving you towards the edge, you could feel the build-up in your core. He showed no signs of slowing down as he thrust. His own pleasure was clear on his face and it only served to push you closer.

You nearly left a cloud of dust behind you as you left the porch for a horse. It would be worth the interrogation.

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

You were barely in the door of the hotel room before you were grabbing at the cowboy’s shirt, tugging him closer to you and kissing him. You felt the chuckle in his chest more than you heard it as he shut the door.

“Slow down, darlin’,” he said between each kiss. “We just got here, there ain’t no rush.”

“Missed you,” you breathed. Your hands pawed desperately, almost like they were trying to uncover some distraction from the turmoil inside. Arthur hadn’t caught on yet; this was the normal interaction. Sex was first, the talking came second. The grin on his face was intoxicating, drawing you in, and you felt your entire body flush.

“I missed you, too.” His hands held either side of your face as his lips came crashing against yours. You couldn’t hold him tight enough, he wasn’t close enough, you wanted so much more. Every place he touched burned, his finger tips at the base of your head, his thumbs brushing your cheeks, it was overwhelming. You fumbled with the buttons on his shirt. He paused, gently grabbing your hands in his. “Slow. Down.”

“I can’t,” you whined, the heat in you bubbling to the surface. “I need this. More. You.”

Arthur hesitated. He studied your face for a moment, looking for...something. With a heart-dropping change in expression, he scoffed, “I’m a goddamn fool. Jesus..” He dropped your hands and stepped away, taking his hat off to run a hand through his hair.

“What..?”

You were still breathing heavily, your body confused by the direction change, hands still searching for something to grab. Brow furrowed, you tried to close the gap between the two of you, but he refused to look at you anymore. You drew a shaky breath to steady yourself.

“Arthur, what is it?”

“I can’t believe this.” The tone of his voice was difficult to place. There was the obvious anger, which you didn’t understand, but there was also a strange touch of sadness. It almost sounded like he was beating himself up about something. “I should’ve known after Mary…”

Mary Linton. You had heard of her, he had mentioned her before, but beyond knowing it was a failed relationship, you had little to no context for her. It had ended on mutual terms, you thought. It still wasn’t enough for you to piece together what was going through his head. You had both been ready to go, this was how it was, you were going to have to wash your underthings when you got home just from the first five minutes.

“Arthur,” you finally snapped, “what’s wrong?”

He stiffened up. You could see his fists clench and unclench before his entire body relaxed and he turned, resigned, to face you. The look of defeat and poorly hidden hurt drove a knife into your chest.

“We can’t keep doing this,” he said. His voice was heavy, laced with context you didn’t know.

“Doing what?”

“This. Sneakin’ off to some hotel, screwing each other, and then going our separate ways like nothin’ matters. Like I don’t matter.”

A pit grew in your gut. Part of you knew what he was saying, but you believed it was deeper than that. Surely, there was more to it than that.

“You do matter,” you managed to say. “You matter to me.”

He laughed, short and derisive, disbelieving. Shaking his head, he made eye contact, gaze sharp.

“All I’m good for is pretending like you’re standing up to your parents.” He shifted his weight, hands coming to rest on his belt, a comfortable position for him. A safe position. “Mommy and Daddy don’t know where you are or what you’re doin’. All you’re doin’ is using me. And I ain’t gonna let it happen again.”

You expected tears to come to your eyes. It was hurtful, what he said, and absolutely not the truth. Instead, anger flared in your chest, rising to your head and making you lightheaded again.

“You’re not just some toy--”

“Oh, I’m not just some toy? How very kind of you to say. Tell me, what did you and Mommy fight about this time? Because you know she’s gonna forget about it before you get home.”

The pattern was suddenly clicking together in your head. Each time you had met up with Arthur was directly after your mother had done something to drive you over the edge. It wasn’t always an argument, but this was your escape. In some secret fashion, this activity was better than just reading a book or meeting with your friends for an hour of gossip time. You were able to let off physical pressure and nobody else knew what you were doing.

Silent for too long, Arthur shook his head and moved to go.

“I hope y’all figure it out,” he told you. “Don’t bother writin’.”

“Wait!” you shouted, much louder than you needed to. He stopped, hand on the doorknob. “It wasn’t-- It wasn’t like that. I care about you, Arthur.”

“Please,” he muttered, a quiet venom lacing his words, “don’t flatter yourself. You’d better get cleaned up before you go home.” A snap of the door was all he left behind.

You felt empty, hollow. There was a strange aching in your chest now, the brief anger gone as quickly as it had arrived, leaving the dull truth of what he had said. You hadn’t wanted to admit it, you had connected so well with him. He was a friend, you rationalized, you had felt more than just a physical connection. You had an understanding. You couldn’t muster up the energy to cry. You had fucked up, you knew that now, but it was too late. Arthur made it very clear he didn’t want anything to do with you anymore.

For a while, you laid on the bed, watching the light shift around the room as the sun descended, eventually bathing the room in an orange glow. You knew the sun would be gone soon, and your mother would raise a huge fuss if you weren’t home for dinner. Gathering your courage, you left the room, thanking the clerk at the desk as you handed back the key. He had a look on his face that you tried to avoid reading into.

You returned to your normal life with a heavy heart that night. Arthur Morgan, the outlaw with a huge bounty on his head, had come into your life like a much needed sunny day. He had invited himself in and you welcomed him with open arms. But you used him as an umbrella, shielding yourself from the storm that was your existence and identity, sure that somehow, this would protect you. You pushed him too far, you realized that now, and, full of holes, he left your life, tired and worn out.

#arthur morgan x reader #arthur morgan reader insert #rdr2 reader insert #arthur morgan #rdr2 #angel writes

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jeongi · 5 years

Text

caught me. | jjk (m)

(edit done by my love, @httpjeon)

↣ 𝐩𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠 | jungkook x reader

↣ 𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭 | 13.5k

↣ 𝐠𝐞𝐧𝐫𝐞 | roommate au. slight e2l au. smut. porn with very little plot.

↣ 𝐢𝐧𝐝𝐞𝐱 | explicit language and sexual content. mentions of vaping. mutual masturbation, sex toy usage, oral sex (f + m receiving), gagging, fingering, squirting, dirty talk, some wall fucking, riding, unprotected sex (you know the drill, wrap it up), multiple orgasms, overstimulation, creampie, jungkook has tattoos, long wavy hair and a giant schlong.

↣ 𝐬𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲 | you hate your temporary roommate, jungkook and it doesn’t help that he’s been catching you at the most inconvenient of times.

“Seokjin, how could you do this to me?” You whine from the kitchen island, reflexively stabbing at the bowl of cereal in front of you. You can’t believe your roommate is just now telling you, a day before he leaves for vacation, that his “friend” will be temporarily moving in while he’s away. Of course, Seokjin pays no mind to your tantrum. Instead, he continues packing the last of his luggage in the living space, across the room. Simply rolling his eyes and heaving a sigh in response, he’s far more acquainted with your antics than he’d like to be. He could almost call you the younger sibling he most certainly never wanted, a nuisance wrapped in feigned misery. The arrangement between the two of you seemed nothing more than the result of a last-ditch Craigslist roommate search.

He should have known the consequences, he supposes.

Another sigh escapes his lips as he turns his attention away from the luggage. “_____, I’m only leaving for three months.”

You wail again, this time, your arms stretching across the cool, granite counter to push the bowl away from yourself. You’ve wholly lost your appetite, ready to wreak havoc as you slide off the stool you’re sat on and stomp your way over to him.

“I don’t care about you leaving me!” Seokjin scoffs at this statement, returning his focus to the open suitcase laid on the floor in front of him. “I care about you stuffing me in this apartment with a complete stranger while you’re gone.” What was the fucker’s name again? Jon Q, John Cook? You’re furious, but of course, Seokjin fails to take notice of this. Instead, he fishes into his pocket for his phone and scrolls through his extensive list of items to pack. He’s only gotten through half of it.

Your words don’t seem to have much of an impact on him, fueling your fury. “What if he tries to murder me? Or even worse, what if I end up murdering him? You won’t even be here to help me hide the body— this is a travesty!” This is followed with another signature sigh, all drama, your wrist shooting up to your forehead as you dab at invisible sweat.

You briefly think you might actually hate Seokjin.

He pauses, dropping his phone into the open luggage before craning his head towards you. Blinking, purely baffled by the lunacy he has to constantly put up with, he internally gives his utmost gratitude to the heavens that his work has sent him on this European trip tomorrow. Three clean months of the peaceful canals of Venice, the Colosseum in Rome, the Eiffel Tower in Paris and most importantly, three lovely quiet months away from you. Suddenly, three months no longer seems an eternity to him. How could it? He assesses you top to bottom, seeing nothing more than a rabid young woman scorned, hands placed sternly on her hips, expectant of a reply.

No sir, three months is not long enough at all.

Seokjin pinches the bridge of his nose between his thumb and forefinger, squeezing his eyes shut as he speaks through gritted teeth. “You are the most melodramatic person I know— you think you can afford to pay my rent for the next three months?” This shuts you up momentarily.

For a moment, you’re disarmed. You can’t argue that he’s right, and you hate admitting it’s the only reason for your new (temporary) roommate.

Releasing his nose, he looks at you, warming a little. “Look, he asked to stay here -temporarily- until he finds his own place. He’s my best friend; wouldn’t you do the same for yours?”

That final bit had the effect he wanted it to, and boy, did it sting. Of course, you’d do the same for your best friend. The only trouble is that you know very little information about this John Cook character, only getting brief details about him moving into the big city for the first time and Seokjin “graciously” providing him a rental until he can find something more permanent. It isn’t a fault on Seokjin’s half. You just don’t know the poor bastard.

Beyond that, you know this guy is a Taekwondoin, moving here to join one of the most prestigious Taekwondo academies in the country. Your blood runs cold in a sudden rush, a certain grim realization dawning on you that you’d absolutely be no match for him if he did try to kill you. Perhaps Seokjin has told you so late because he too wants you dead. You really shouldn’t have met him through Craiglist.

You consider leaving a lengthy, final Tumblr post in remembrance of your inevitable end, hoping one of your 12 followers would come forth and save you from a gruesome slashing. At best, someone saves your life. At worst, you’ve written your own eulogy.

Huffing a breath of frustration, something akin to a groan escapes you as you march back to the kitchen island for your now soggy bowl of cereal. It only fuels your now quiet rage further, but pettiness takes over, mentally muting Seokjin’s yelling profanities after watching you dispose of one of his favourite glass bowls. It’s the least you can do as revenge.

As it turns out, Jeon Jungkook is a nearly six feet tall mural of muscle and inked skin that rarely stays home. His dark wavy hair falls gracefully past his large doe eyes, and his plethora of tattoos litter the tight expanse of his neck and arms. Notably, the blossom of two red roses painted over the porcelain of his neck.

Though verbally a silent roommate, you find he vapes far too much and equally plays far too much Fortnite at odd hours of the night. He only comes out of his room to either make himself food or to leave the apartment, and a couple of times you could have almost sworn he might’ve been doing his laundry. He’s a feast to lay eyes on, that much is irrefutable but he leaves at least one utensil unwashed after eating, irritating you to an unprecedented degree.

Jungkook also enjoys eating ramen at two in the morning- you know this because it wakes you up almost every time you hear the microwave blare its oppressive siren. He also figures he must shower each time he returns home from being out, suitably fattening your poor water bill. You’ve only briefly spoken to him a handful of times, mostly about house rules and a tour of the facilities.

It’s only been two weeks since he’s arrived, yet you already seem to despise him- sending Seokjin angry messages from across the globe about this, all of which have been ignored. You’ve been too busy lately anyway, rarely seeing Jungkook who seems to be out for most of the day.

However, it’s today that you finally catch him when you’re just coming home from work. He sits at the kitchen island, flipping through a comic while he loudly chomps on an open bag of shrimp chips, pausing to look at you as you make your way inside.

You’re on speakerphone with your friend Nari, both of your arms too occupied and laden with groceries to normally hold the phone to your ear. Upon seeing this, Jungkook gets up from his seat and immediately rushes to lend a hand. He’s completely shirtless, his loose dark sweatpants hugging the low subtle curve of his hips, and it’s only then that you notice the mosaic of more tattoos scattered across his skin beyond his full sleeves and the two red roses on his neck. He has much more than you had initially seen, a large black and white snake running over his pelvic bone. It draws your eyes forward, let’s it linger over to his bare abdomen, untouched with ink and defined with muscle. You can see it evidently, the indents carved into him as if he’s been sculpted from the finest of limestone.

You catch yourself from staring, thanking him with a silent bow of your head as he turns away from you, all the bags of groceries now racked effortlessly down his taut arms. Your momentary and involuntary ogling is cut short by Nari’s voice booming through the loudspeaker of your phone.

“God, you really need to get laid soon- I’m tired of you being so grumpy.” You freeze, nearly choking on your own saliva. “I already deal with one grump on a daily, I don’t need to add another to my inventory.”

Fuck. “Yeah, well, working on it!” You titter nervously into the microphone. It’s all in vain, for Nari is relentless in her pursuits.

“Didn’t you say your new roommate was hot? Just fuck him, that’d be pretty convenient. It’s like, like...dick-on-demand!” She laughs, guffawing into the mic as though it’s the most hilarious thing she has ever said. You stand there, eyes wide and mortified as the cackle from the other end of the line sounds more villainous than genuine humour. Her words linger still in the air, and a very deep desire to Crtl+Z yourself from life’s current existence fills your petrified body.

You know Jungkook has heard the words because he pauses in his step very briefly, faint stutters in his movement as his back stays turned towards you. Before you catch the slightest motion of his head about to look over his shoulder, you’re whipping around and fumbling for your phone. With the greatest deft you can muster, your thumbs desperately try smashing the giant red ‘end call’ button.

To no avail, the phone screen freezes, Nari’s cackling report still filing through.

You think this feels like a nightmare. In fact, you’re certain you’ve had a nightmare precisely like this before. Except this is real, very much real and you’re humiliated. cheeks surely flushed crimson as you tut in annoyance at your malfunctioning product of capitalism.

Jungkook simply clears his throat and continues moving towards the kitchen once again, acting as if nothing has happened. Under any other circumstances, you would almost be offended, but given the current nature of what has just transpired, you both let the feeling pass. “Anyway,” Nari continues and you wish she’d shut up. “I gotta go, Yoongi just got Minecraft and I’m going to give him the best head of his life,” she groans into the mic in satisfaction. “I love you, bye!” She cuts the mic, completely and blissfully unaware of the impending Armageddon she’s inadvertently spawned. You’re stood there in horrified silence, counting to five in your head before you’re very anxiously swivelling around.

You open your mouth to say something, but words fail you. What could you even say?

Jungkook cuts in. “I’ll uh, put these away. Don’t worry about it.” He beams you a rather charming grin, completely devoid of any awkward tension that filled the air moments ago. Somehow, this surprises you far more than if he had acknowledged it.

You thank him with haste, your feet acting much quicker than your head as you swiftly cut across the kitchen towards the hallway where your bedroom stands. Avoiding eye contact at all costs, your face is surely now painted just as red as Jungkook’s bag of shrimp chips on the counter.

Perhaps it’s to ease yourself more than anything that you decide to get angry over this situation. You’re not angry at Nari, no, you’re angry at Jungkook. Who was he to waltz into your apartment and have you monitor your phone calls? And be shirtless nonetheless? Had he no manners? Why should you have to tiptoe around him? You think if this were Seokjin, he wouldn’t nearly make everything so uncomfortable for you in your own place of living. Seokjin would also wash all his dishes and sleep at a reasonable time. This thought only fuels you more.

The words slip out of you before you can even comprehend stopping. “For Christ’s sake wear a shirt while I’m home, I don’t need to see you prancing half naked around the apartment. This isn’t Magic Mike, it’s home- my home.” You bark, halting Jungkook in his movements as he goes to place a new carton of milk into the fridge. He turns to look at you, the dangle of his silver earrings glinting against the light and you almost grimace at how attractive he looks in this moment.

Before he can respond, you’re pivoting away from him and walking towards your bedroom.

You slam your door with a thud and let out a strangled groan. Perhaps it was too harsh, the anger is now replaced with further distress. You toss yourself onto your mattress, stuffing your face into the nearest pillow and restraining yourself with every ounce of self-control you have from screaming your lungs out into it.

You hadn’t even called Jungkook hot, you had mentioned that he was conventionally attractive- which wasn’t a lie in the slightest. You’re half tempted to call her back and scold her good for the humiliation she’s so blissfully unaware of causing, but as you pick up your phone, a text flashes across your screen with a name you’re all too familiar with. And all too soon, your agitation grinds to a halt, dissipates and metamorphosizes into a goofy, toothy grin.

Taehyung - [1 New Text Message]

Kim Taehyung works just across the room from you on the seventh floor of the accounting firm. He has rich blonde hair and plump pink lips that he constantly wets with a dab of his tongue. You swear he’s been purposely winding you up recently, the brushes against your skin too frequent, the lingering stares too prolonged and the husk in his voice too low when he speaks to you. You’ve had a crush on Taehyung since you’ve started working at the firm, two years ago. Of course, he’s completely unaware of this.

5:44pm [Taehyung]: Hey, can I ask you for a favour?

The squeal you let out is unbearable, even to you. You feel the reminiscence of being back in middle school when your sixth-grade crush, Park Jimin had asked you to the Halloween dance. Of course, that night had ended terribly for you, catching Jimin and your rival, Sooya slow dancing while you went to get unnaturally lukewarm fruit punch from the snack bar. But much like right now, you remember the butterflies fluttering through your entire body the night before the dance.

Feeling the crimson warmth return to your cheeks, you clutch your phone to your chest while a coy smile stretches across your lips. You practice your well-rehearsed, five-minute wait before texting Taehyung back, typing and retyping your response until you’re satisfied with a legible reply. Pursing your lips, you go back and forth between adding a smiley face or not, ultimately choosing to go with one just to further the delusions in your head that adding one will somehow make him fall madly in love with you.

5:50pm [You]: of course you can! :)

You gasp when your phone vibrates within seconds, a giddy coo leaving you as his name flashes once more across your screen. You slap a hand over your mouth when you hear the footsteps of Jungkook pass by your door, your eyes darting towards the shadow of his feet seen just underneath the crack of your door. His room- rather Seokjin’s room- is right next door to yours, another unfortunate occurrence in your miserable life.

5:50pm [Taehyung]: Could you possibly drop me off at the airport tomorrow morning? I’ll treat you to breakfast on the way!!

Your grin grows tenfold, your teeth clutching your bottom lip in its hold as you glide your fingers over the keyboard with an answer.

5:52pm [You]: it’d be my pleasure!!

It seems as if everyone but you and Jungkook were going away on vacation from this hell city. Perhaps you may be in need of one too.

You drop Taehyung off at the airport at five in the morning. You think it should be illegal for anyone to wake up at such an hour. You hadn’t had much time to sleep, Jungkook’s nightly ramen snacking occurring at exactly two in the morning, just two hours before you were supposed to be awoken by the chirps of your alarm. As if the morning couldn’t have gotten any worse, you had learned Taehyung was travelling abroad to meet his very long-term and long-distance girlfriend for the first time. Your luck seems to have worsened as you’ve aged. All the signs you thought you’d seen of him visibly showing his interest in you had all been in your head.

By the time you reach home, it’s six, the sun barely peeking through the hillside view from your apartment and your eyes are droopy, heavy with sleep. A yawn escapes you as you place your keys on the kitchen counter before you kick off your shoes and shuffle towards the living room in a slump. You plop onto the couch, releasing a long exhale as you lift your feet up to lay more comfortably.

Briefly, you think you should stay up and get your day started, as you reckon most people who have their shit together would do as such. Unfortunately for your itinerary, you’re not most people and you’re certainly not someone who has their shit together. You’re _____ and you’re now dreaming, dreaming of a single Kim Taehyung.

His mouth is on yours, golden locks under the tight grip of your fingers and his cock is steadily rocking into you, fingers digging into your sides. He has you seated on the bathroom counter, your legs circled around his waist as his sharp thrusts elicit the neediest of cries from you.

“Taehyung!” You’re moaning, eyes rolled so far back into your skull, you feel the pull of your optic nerve. Loosening your grip on Taehyung’s hair, he moves away from your mouth and rests his forehead in the crook of your neck. Every curve of his dick plunges in calculated fashion into your cunt, egging you closer to your undoing.

Another sharp thrust has your entire body shuddering, a lapse of jitters filling you as your orgasm rumbles through you. When Taehyung lifts his head from the crook of your neck, you gasp. For when you look at his face, it’s no longer Taehyung, it’s now Jungkook.

He offers a lopsided smirk, an indent of his dimple forming around the right side of his mouth while a finger trails down your cheek.

“Wake up,” the apparition whispers.

You gasp awake, spine shooting upright as you heave heavy breaths. Skimming your hands over your face, you let out a frustrated groan, bewilderment and daze hitting you as you land right back to reality.

“Shit, sorry, I didn’t mean to wake you.” You hear a low voice and you immediately shriek, arms hugging yourself in a mock attempt to hide yourself even if you are fully clothed at the moment. You look over, glancing at the tall, frozen figure stood in the kitchen. His doe eyes are wide, startled by your reaction, dark hair wavy and long, clinging around the edge of his pale face and you can see the faintest trace of the red ink on his neck underneath the loose collar of his black hoodie. He’s got a knife in one hand and a half-cut tomato laid on a cutting board in front of him. “I-I was going to wake you up for lunch but…” His face has suddenly flushed to a shade of rose, tongue swiftly dabbing at his bottom lip. He clears his throat and hesitates before looking away. “Y-you seemed engrossed in your sleep, I didn’t want to wake you up.” What was that supposed to mean?

When you look behind him, the pot on the stove is steaming and it’s then that you catch the aroma of sauteed onions and oregano. Naturally, your mouth instantly waters, eyes glancing over to the digital clock that displays itself on the stove. It reads as five minutes past noon and you rub your eyes with the back of your hand before you’re blinking towards the time again. Had you really passed out for a solid six hours? How long had Jungkook been here? “You...don’t have work today?” You swallow, slowly raising up your feet.

Jungkook merely chuckles and shakes his head no. The silver of his dangling earrings swings with this motion. “I’m not working yet, I’m a student at Master Seong’s.” You had almost forgotten about the Taekwondo Academy, it’s the exact reason he’s now standing here in your kitchen cutting tomatoes. “Hopefully, I’ll be the one teaching by next year.” As he speaks, you notice he has a perfect set of pearly whites but then you think of course he does- anything that would make Jeon Jungkook less perfect at this point would be a micropenis. For whatever reason, that makes your blood boil but as much as you’re in disdain, the thought instantly brings attention to a sweltering puddle between your legs.

Your head shoots down, feet shifting uncomfortably as you feel a slick cling against your panties and it’s then that every aspect of your sex dream hits you in a movie montage. You had fully and wholeheartedly dreamt of Jungkook fucking you.

You gasp, unwillingly, feet losing balance before you catch yourself against the counter. Jungkook pauses and looks at you, a tentative eyebrow cocking in your direction in question.

“Is everything alright?” He asks, more curious than considerate. His voice seems to ebb and flow with the sultry ease that only he could— my god, maybe you do need to get laid.

You use your elbows to push yourself off the counter before you’re walking over to the stove, body brushing against Jungkook’s back as you reach for the vent switch.

“Next time you cook something, turn on the exhaust fan or else it’ll get smokey in here.” You say, voice stoic like ice in this smothering heat, ignoring the blatant arousal seeping out of your cunt. You brush past him once more to make way towards the hallway.

Jungkook sighs in defeat, watching as your figure disappears into your bedroom.

The moth outside your window bats against the patio light with a fierce determination that boggles your mind. You wonder what might be going through the moth’s head: does it ponder this alien, man-made warmth it now feverishly flutters around? Does it understand it in the slightest? Why else would such a simple creature be breaking the peace of a sticky midsummer’s eve?

You glance at the clock on your dresser. It’s now half past midnight, and you’re dying in this stupid heat. Perhaps it didn’t help that you had a six-hour nap, impressed by your ability to do so in broad daylight. And you can’t get it out of your head, the dream. It’s kept you horny all day- in need of relief. You think about the last time you’ve had sex, a one night stand with a tall, polite gentleman named Namjoon. It was quite possibly the best sex you’ve ever had, a shame you never caught his number.

With a less than pathetic groan of protest, you put your head between the pillow and the mattress, savouring the seconds of coolness that surround your head in a desperate bid to lower the temperature however you can. Something’s got to be better than stringing sex and a fucking invertebrate into the same train of thought this late at night.

Raising your head up from the pillow, you weigh your options. You’re not about to drink yourself to sleep, and your secret supply of ZzzQuil has run dry. Fortunately, you have a solution.

It’s nights like tonight that you can’t hold yourself back, orgasms helped you sleep better anyway. Your vibrator mocks you, blinking as it charges for the first time in weeks. You hear Jungkook shuffle on the other side of the room, your teeth gnawing at your bottom lip as you quietly reach your bedside table for a pair of headphones. You grasp at odds and ends until your fingers find purchase, and with a small sense of victory, you pull a very tangled mess of headphones from the drawer. You hear a cough on the other side and pause, gulping as if you’re fourteen all over again and just discovered the fruits of pleasuring yourself for the first time.

The vibrator’s LED light switches to a solid green, indicating its readiness to abuse your very untouched clit. You flush at the thought, yet eager as the familiar moisture pools in between your legs. You’re suddenly all too ready, all too demanding of the touch of a toy that you haven’t felt in too long. Why had you been putting this off for so long?

Unplugging it from the outlet next to your bed, you slip off your shorts and lay comfortably back onto your mattress. Another blush creeps onto your cheeks, your thumb unlocking your phone and opening the Chrome app. Making sure to switch to a private browser, you hesitantly type it in.

‘Pornhub’

The link loads embarrassingly quickly and you flush further, a mix of both the heat and your self chagrin marking the apples of your cheeks. You don’t even know what to look for, the home page overwhelming you with a variety of sinful thumbnails, begging to be clicked on. It almost makes you grimace in distaste, suddenly too aware of your surroundings and the situation at hand. You decide against pornography, gripping onto your imagination as you toss your phone aside and clear your throat, settling back onto the mattress with your eyes closed.

You’ll think about Namjoon. His broad hands, slender fingers and that deliciously thick cock. His moans, his honey skin and the way he was able to make you come twice that night.

Spreading your legs apart, you fixate the vibrator against your heat, gasping at the cool tip of the silicone already sensitive against your clit. You’re already soaked, the head gliding over your clit with slick.

It feels wrong when you turn the device on, the low buzz of vibrations filling the air. Brows knitted together, you picture Namjoon again. Trying to imagine the stroke of his tongue against your folds as the buzz of your vibrator rings through you, you gasp at the overwhelming sensation. Why didn’t you do this more often? You try to stay quiet, breathing growing laboured as the image of Namjoon between your legs morphs into something else. Rather, it morphs into someone else.

You see it in your head, your fingers threading through dark curls, legs pinned apart by two ink-sleeved arms. When you look down, you’re met by the intense gaze of brown doe eyes, his brows furrowed as his tongue flicks relentlessly against you. It’s almost as he’s smirking at you, the slightest quirk in his eyebrow implying that he knows he’d fucking you well with only his tongue. The image makes you shudder, shaking your head as you kick this sick fantasy out of your mind. Were you out of your mind?

On the other side of the room, Jungkook’s ears perk up to the sound of this low buzz. He hadn’t realized you were still awake. But as the buzzing intensifies, and a rhythmic deep breathing follows, it soon grows impossible to ignore. He has to be certain. Cautiously removing one earphone, he almost leans into the noise, cocking his head to the side.

No, that’s definitely you, alright.

You gasp as you apply more pressure to your clit, eyes rolling back from the waves of vibrations surging through your entire body. You can’t get it out of your head, imagining Jungkook’s taut arms holding you down, his tongue unforgiving against you. The moan that escapes you is wholly on accident, a hand slapping against your mouth in an attempt to silence yourself further.

Jungkook sits at his desk, dumbfounded. Were you really doing what he thought you were? Surely not. It’s then that hears the moan. It penetrates the thin wall that separates the two of you and stirs a familiar twitch in his boxers. He feels it press against the fabric, stretching with every heartbeat that knocks against his ribcage. His breathing begins to deepen, only letting his imagination wander as to what you were doing in this moment, merely a few feet away.

No, he thinks. Absolutely not. Behave yourself.

You’re…well, you’re moaning.

Fuck this, Jungkook’s inner dialogue protests. If you’re not going to play fair, then neither is he. He rises from his desk, tripping slightly over his office chair, clattering the plastic wheels against the hardwood floor. The sound reverberates through what feels like the entire house, and the silence is broken by the impact, which by all accounts seems far too noisy for its own good.

Jungkook freezes, terrified. The buzzing ceases just as suddenly, and the air is replaced with an undesirable discomfort.

Inside your room, your left hand tightens over your mouth the other switches off the vibrator. The kerfuffle seemed to have occurred frighteningly close, prompting a sudden cease to desist all sinful pleasures. The anxieties come in waves, one after another. Did he hear you? Oh God, how long was he listening? Was that even him?

A painful eternity passes. The silence fills the house once more, the crickets outside resuming their nightly song.

Jungkook half expects you to barge into his room, fuming at him for being a pervert and listening in but your feared assault never comes. If anything, his cock only seems to grow harder, the thought of you pleasuring yourself just on the other side of the wall so alluring, he begins to palm himself over his boxers.

You, on the other hand, upon the silence, convince yourself that he hadn’t heard after all. Surely, it was something else, Jungkook had probably already gone to bed.

Jungkook. Your lips form the shape of his name but no sound comes out, only a heavy exhale. This is wrong, beyond inappropriate and downright vulgar. It’s the dimples, you try to argue with yourself. Or those eyes, a deep coffee brown that take away from his masculine frame. It almost brings a childlike charm, distracts you from the surfeit of tattoos that mark his muscular build.

With impatience, you start the vibrator again, placing the device over your clit once more. You’re soaked beyond control, your own fingers itching to be stuffed inside yourself. Thumb hitting the setting button, the buzz of vibrations grow an octave higher as the intensity of the second setting rolls over your bead with a blast of euphoric pleasure. It’s almost too much, legs clamping shut as the judder of silicone repeatedly assaults your clit. Your panting growing quicker, inching you to tip over the edge. Oh, how you yearned to be filled with a cock.

“Fuck,” Jungkook mutters under his breath, giving into the barbaric thoughts in his head. Quietly, he slides his boxers down his thighs and situates himself back onto his desk chair. His cock is throbbing, tip a blushed pink as his heartbeat begins to resonate harder. Were you doing this on purpose? Were you testing him? Teasing him? He rests his head back, eyes fluttering to a close as he holds the base of his painfully erect cock with his right hand.

His hand slowly begins to slide up and down his own length, twisting slightly whenever his fingers cross over his glans. The sensation fills him with ecstasy, and he can’t help but gasp as he tightens his grip and continues to stroke his cock. He thinks of you, on the other side of the wall with your legs spread, flushed and begging to be fucked. How well he’d fit inside you, how well you’d take him in your tight cunt and how you’d whimper his name into his ear. With these thoughts, his pace on himself quickens, breaths laboured against the air. This was wrong, so wrong but hearing you like this, imagining you sprawled on your bed in desperate need of his touch only pushes him further to his climax.

For a moment, he thinks about risking it all and just ripping your door open to fuck you into your next existence. He stays planted onto the leather seat, his hands roaming in a familiar rhythm.

You are minutes, seconds away from seeing strings of white. It’s when you raise your vibrator to its third setting that you come undone, biting the inside of your cheek as your orgasm plummets you to a new horizon and Jungkook’s name sits at the edge of your tongue.

You feel it spray out of you, your arousal sprinkling over your bed sheets in a clear indication of your collapse. You gasp and shudder, quick to turn off the device as its relentless motion becomes far too much for your sensitive clit.

You lay for a moment, gathering your bearings as your high lingers between the furrow of your eyebrows. Your head feels heavy, sleep overtaking every inch of your body and you begin nodding off almost instantaneously, vibrator still in hand. It’s when you shift to doze more comfortably that your thigh makes contact with a cool, wet splotch.

Your eyes spring open and you’re sitting up, flicking on your bedside lamp. You have just squirted all over your sheets, the damp puddle prominent and deride. You sit there in disbelief, blinking at the mess between your legs. You frown, suddenly becoming aware of the incessant pounding in your head from your high and you curse yourself for making such a mess.

Now you have to do the laundry, there’s no way you could sleep in these.

Jungkook is close, frustratingly so…it won’t take much at this rate for him to blow his load all over himself. He places his hand firmly around the chair handle, fingers gripping against the plastic. His other hand strokes faster than ever before, breaths deepening. And as he reaches his climax, the quietest of moans escape his lips, followed by your name. It’s so soft on his tongue, it feels uncouth. The trail of white fluid follows, spurts out of his cock and onto his stomach. He pants, quick to milk every ounce of himself with the squeeze of his palm around the edge of his head and then he’s reaching for his water bottle, taking a cool swig of the liquid.

He has to shower now, there’s no way he could sleep like this.

As you unhook the last of your sheets from the mattress, you quickly roll the fabric into a giant ball within your arms. You’re on your tippy-toes, hesitantly reaching for your door as you twist the knob and pull the barrier open. You look around, relieved to see the hallway engulfed in complete darkness. Jungkook’s door is closed, no light emitting through the cracks which means he must be asleep. Gingerly, you close the door behind you and tiptoe towards the end of the hall where the laundry room is- attached to the shared washroom.

You’re quick to stuff the sheets into the washer, loading the detergent into the cartridges and powering on the machine. The room’s lights aren’t even on, you’re too lazy to find them. Besides, the stark moonlight and LED of the washing machine are plenty of light enough. When you’ve set the machine to its cycle, you ponder on what the hell you can do with no bedsheets to aid in your sleep and your body covered in sweat.

Even if you are hotter than before, sweatier than before, slumber takes a toll on your body. Your head feels weighted, drowsy from your hard climax. You think a shower would work best, turning to go back into your room for a change of clothes when you bump into something, rather someone.

You shriek and take cover under your raised arms, a soft glow of white light sifting through the crack of your arms as the washroom lights get flickered on. Raising your head out of the shield of your arms, you find Jungkook standing in front of you, void of a shirt and clad by only a pair of boxers.

“Jungkook, what the fuck?” You can’t help it, your eyes wander, rake him from head to toe. You can see it, the ever so light outline of a bulge, something that is definitely nowhere near a micropenis.

“I was just...about to shower. I’m sorry- I didn’t know you would be out here, I would’ve worn more clothes” His gaze is soft with worry and you’re reminded of your earlier outburst. It was quite hypocritical of yourself when you’ve just fucked yourself on a sex toy to scandalous thoughts of him. His eyes flickers to the low drone of the washer and then back to you. “You’re doing laundry?”

Your cheeks flush, your voice hitching in your throat as you promptly pull up an excuse as to why you’re doing laundry at nearly two in the morning. “I-I spilled some tea on my sheets, I have to wash them.” You hope it’s convincing enough. “I was about to shower too.”

Jungkook regards you carefully, expecting a scolding for even asking but it never comes. You’re flustered and painted a shade of red he is familiar with. He’s only familiar with it because he too is the same shade of red. You two had been pleasuring yourselves, separately yet simultaneously. The memory almost brings a fresh wave of lust.

“Why are you showering at-” you glance at the time on your phone, “-one o’clock at night?” Jungkook doesn’t expect this question from you. You had never been interested in anything he did other than if it was something bothersome to scold over. He clears his throat and uses his slender fingers to push his hair back. You reckon he’ll need a haircut soon.

“I was exercising in my room.” Technically, masturbation was a certain form of exercise…

The air is stiff, you feel it. It crosses both of your minds, had you heard one another? Was it obvious? You shift on the balls of your feet, teeth crashing down on your bottom lip. “Well, who’s gonna shower first?” You eye his practically unclad figure. It’s impossible to not take notice of the Adonis belt that leads your vision straight to his casual bulge. You look away. “Technically I was here first.”

Jungkook chuckles and pokes the inside of his cheek with a tongue. “Technically this is your house too, right?”

Your head drops to the ground, a shameful pout crossing over your features. Perhaps you were too harsh earlier, but you may just be feeling this way from the endorphins.

You go against the wish for a shower, it’s the least you can do. “I’ll be sleeping on the couch tonight, just letting you know. Please don’t make food at some obscure hour of the night or I will kill you.” With that, you push past him, your shoulder knocking against his arm as you head towards the living room.

To Jungkook, there’s something so beguiling about your clear disdain for him. He merely observes you from where he stands, feeling another rush of blood make way to his cock. How could you so ignorantly disregard that you had just been touching yourself? Did you really not know he could hear you? It baffles him, leaves him with another hard-on as he turns away, closing the washroom door behind him before he’s turning on the shower.

Today, you’ve had a shitty day.

Kim Taehyung has put in his two weeks' notice. He’s quitting this job to move halfway across the world and live with his girlfriend abroad and your boss had informed you one of your very own clients have committed tax fraud, costing your firm thousands. Along with this, you’ve spilled coffee over your white button-up and the hair tie holding your crisp bun up had snapped to unleash your unbrushed, unwashed owl’s nest.

When you walk into the apartment, you almost don’t want to look at your reflection in the mirror. It was strategically placed in the foyer by Seokjin, his scientific reasoning behind it being so he could start a positive day by looking at himself one last time before leaving the house. This logic seems like bullshit to you now. Your hair is a lion’s mane, your black bra visible against the translucent, chestnut coffee stain on your chest and your face is shiny from the amount of sweat you’ve had building up throughout the day from this sweltering heat.

Kicking off your heels, you take notice that Jungkook’s Pumas don’t take their usual occupancy on the shoe rack. This means he’s not home and this means, he wouldn’t be seeing you in this state. Relief floods over you.

Somewhere prior to the halfway point of Jungkook’s stay, your animosity for his presence seems to have expired ever so slightly. Perhaps it had to do with your newfound liking towards him from your late-night fantasies, or maybe it was because he had actually been putting more effort into working around the house as of late.

You barely see him now, and when you do, he’s usually made your food along with his own or he’s left you sticky notes telling you he’s taken out the garbage for you or cleaned the washroom. It has warmed your rigid heart but only to an extended degree.

Carding your fingers through your hair, you tame as much of it as you can before you’re unbuttoning your dress shirt and letting the air dry it out. Your bra feels slick against your skin, the mixture of coffee and sweat too unbearable. You unclip it from behind and toss it onto the bar stool by the kitchen island.

After opening the fridge for a can of iced tea, you walk over to the pantry for a snack to accompany the icy, perspiring drink. But before you can make it, you suddenly take notice of it, the twinkling mound of silverware against the sunlight seeping through the windowpane. You look down at the small pile of unwashed cutlery in the stainless steel sink, an inferno flickering in your chest.

The feeling crawls back, the feeling of wanting to reinforce your disapproval of him. It’s an emotional memory, screaming at you to go back to your familiar disdain, to a more comfortable habit. Or maybe it’s your horrible day, everything bad that’s happened leading up to this breakdown. You feel like an overly emotional pregnant lady, getting fired up over unwashed spoons and forks but you can’t push it down. You’re seeing red.

A click is heard from the bathroom down the hall, followed by the tune of a cheerful whistle. You wrap the open ends of your shirt around your chest, crossing your arms as you stand in the kitchen and await the figure’s emergence from the shadowy refuge of the hallway. Jungkook now appears at the mouth of the hall, one arm rubbing a small towel against his wet hair and the other clutching the towel hanging off his hips. Upon seeing you, his whistle abruptly drops.

“Hey,” he begins nervously. “I didn’t know you’d be home—”

The words come out of you like rapid-fire, all “good deeds” he’s ever done as a roommate escaping through the vents. “You…” You begin, and he winces. “Do you see this?” You point to the sink. “How fucking hard is it to wash your own forks and spoons? Fuck, I’m so tired of picking up after you!”

You’re really unable to stop yourself, weeks of pent-up frustrations just now unleashing, lashing against the boy with such vigor, you can see a gulp send his Adam's apple to a bob. “For the record, if you’re going to smoke, do it the absolute farthest away from the apartment- I cannot stand the scent of fake strawberries and watermelon anymore.” Your arm motions towards the hallway, your foot stomping with it. Jungkook’s gaze very briefly strays to your shirt that unravels, just barely covering your breasts. Were you not wearing a bra?

“For every shower you take after the initial one, you have to set aside two dollars extra towards the water bill and for the love of all things holy, please start eating dinner at a reasonable time- you make it impossible to like you when I’m forced to wake up at two in the morning almost every single night.” With one push off the counter, you’re off towards the hallway to your bedroom, the heat of Jungkook’s stare burning into the back of your skull as you pass by him.

Jungkook sighs.

“I try, you know.” His quiet words halt you in your steps. “I knew you never liked me but I never knew why...that much was always a mystery. It never stopped me from trying to be the best damn roommate you’re ever going to have.” You twist around, taking in his stance. Now his arms are crossed, the towel once on his head now draped over his arm. “And yet you still hate me.”

You’re disarmed, mouth suddenly dry as you take in his words. Jungkook continues. “I...I just don’t get it- and I have to admit it’s a little disheartening,” He takes an idle step forward. “I don’t know what to expect from you- one moment you’re scolding me and the next…” His eyes trail to the exposed delve between your breasts, carefully covered underneath your unbuttoned shirt. You coil into yourself, wrapping your shirt over your chest again as you shift your gaze to the marks of ink blossomed over his skin. “And the next you’re staring at me.” Steadily dragging his gaze back up towards your eyes, he smirks and speaks again. “Kind of like you’re staring right now.”

If there’s one thing you hate the most, it’s being called out. Your pride is wounded and you rise to the challenge, huffing a bemused breath. You shoot back with faux scorn. “I’m only staring because you’re practically naked in front of me. Have you no decency in the presence of a woman?” This makes Jungkook cock an eyebrow, and he finds himself closing more distance between the two of you.

He laughs, mirthless but nonetheless amused by your rebuke. “Usually in the presence of a woman like you, decency is the last thing on my mind.” Leisurely, you’re losing each other in one another’s gaze.

You scoff. “Like me? What the hell is that supposed to mean?”

“Don’t play coy, you and I both know you’re not near as good as you think you are.”

This statement catches you off guard, wholeheartedly. Your breath hitches in your throat as your eyes flicker between the towel that’s barely clinging around his waist to his eyes that have seemingly darkened, ablaze with something akin to salacity. Jungkook licks his lips, the length of his damp hair sending a tiny trickle of water down the side of his face. “And that doesn’t even count all the weird shit I’ve heard in this house.” Now you’re the one gulping, frozen in place as he takes another step closer. “You moan in your sleep, you moan when you touch yourself at night...” Your eyes widen in horror, he had heard you that night and possibly every night after that.

“I’ll never forget what your friend said on the phone, you know. With lips like that…you make it impossible to forget anything about you.”

Shit.

He’s gotten closer, much closer. With anyone else, the lack of distance between you would be nothing short of uncomfortable and unwanted, but you find yourself pulled towards him. The closing of the gap between you is mutual, and before you have a chance to shoot back a reply, his lips are hovering above yours. “Pretty lips that make pretty noises.” And then, his mouth is on yours.

Your knees nearly give out.

Before anything else, you’re filled with shock, an invasive shock. How could he be doing this?

He… He’s…he’s actually a pretty good kisser. You’re swept away, his arms cocooning around you. His lips pillow against your own, his tongue the taste of mint.

Jungkook is damp from his shower, his skin slick and cool under your touch as you slide your arms around his neck. This motion beckons you closer, pushing your lips harder against his. He walks you backwards and you follow suit, mouths remaining on one another as your back hits the wall right next to your bedroom door. There is absolutely no turning back now.

His hands are sliding down your body, feeling every curve of your body underneath his palms as he squeezes and kneads until he’s reached your ass. You moan into his mouth when he grabs handfuls of your bottom, a calculated grip that he uses to push your pelvic bone against his growing erection. This invites his tongue into your parted mouth, taking in the taste of yours into his own. They cushion around each other, a synchronous valse that only grows the moisture in between your legs. You feel his want for you build against your stomach, the thickness that lays just beyond his towel.

Jungkook’s teeth find the plump of your bottom lip, a gentle gnaw at the flesh before he’s tugging at it. The whimper you let out only elicits a growl to emit from his chest, the hands on your ass now sliding up your sides until they’re cupping your face. It’s then that his clear want for you becomes evident, a taut prominence poking against your stomach.

“M’Jungkook…” You whimper into his mouth, his right hand moving from your cheek to the base of your neck. You gasp as his palm pushes against your sternum, the fingers wrapped around your neck tightening in the slightest as you’re pushed farther against up against the wall. Jungkook hums in response, his lips relentless against your own.

His mouth works in precise vigour against your own. It’s as if he has been starved of this moment for too long, days, weeks of holding himself back. You can’t stop yourself either, not quite being able to comprehend the happenings of this exact moment. Nights of pleasuring yourself to the thought of your roommate and here you two are, your cunt seemingly progressing into an ocean of slick and his cock ready to be smothered in it.

Jungkook pulls away, and when you get a chance to look at him, his cheeks are powdered in a shade of rose, his lips marginally swollen from your heated kissing and his eyes ablaze with a craving you can’t even describe. “Not so smart with that mouth now, are you?”

You swallow thickly, words failing you. Your eyes glance towards the roses stoic on his neck. Oh, how you’d like to lick over them. The situation is beyond words, and you reckon if it hadn’t been, that actions still would fare far better than words.

Jungkook drops to his knees in front of you and fiercely grabs your hips. You inhale sharply, head dropping as your fingers instinctively grasp for purchase against his impossibly broad shoulders. They’re marked with feathers that lead down his biceps in the shape of wings. You can’t help but dig in, your nails leaving thin red crescents slashing across the ink as your back rests against the wall.

“You think you can get away moaning my name every night?” He groans, alternating between breaths and kisses around your pelvis, slowly moving past your navel. His fingers hook around the belt loops in your pants, his free hand eagerly tugging down your zipper. With precision, he pulls your pants down until you’re clad in only your underwear. Thank God, you chose today of all days to wear a thong. The baby pink silk, smooth underneath his fingertips. Jungkook looks up at you wishfully, his doe eyes radiating a boyish innocence that contradicts the ink littering his skin. But then he speaks, his voice a soft growl.

“I hope you taste as delicious as you look,” he says, not doubting for a second that you won’t as he bites the elastic of your thong. You are breathless; it’s hard not to be when Eros himself is between your legs, yearning for a taste of your dripping sex.

Your breath catches in your throat, Jungkook’s thumb skimming down your pubic bone to where you want, need it the most. You shiver as he circles against your clit through the cloth, a purposeful pressure that has you tightening your grip on his shoulders. He can feel the moisture against the fabric, your arousal clinging against the material.

“I didn’t even have to touch you and you’re already this wet for me, baby?” He licks his lips, fingers running up and down your thighs. The nickname baby stays with you, lingers and only soaks you further. You roll your head back against the wall, letting his fleeting fingers latch around the band of your thong before you feel them being tugged down your legs.

It’s almost instinctive for you to want to cross your leg over the other, to keep Jungkook from seeing you so bare and needy for him. But of course, Jungkook doesn’t let this happen. He kisses your right hip bone before tracing a bold lick diagonally down to your pelvis. Your fingers rub against his shoulders, one hand gliding up the back of his head to comb through the mass of his damp dark curls.

Jungkook hikes one of your legs over his shoulder, letting the balm of your foot rest against the delve of his back as he spreads you above him. A broad hand pushes your hip back against the wall, the one leg you’re balanced on steady underneath his aiding grip. He uses his free hand to run his second and third digit up and down your wet folds. You shiver.

He looks up at you once more. This time, a lopsided smug grin adorns his face as he beams you a set of perfect teeth, the familiar indents of his dimples marking against his lower cheeks. “I’m going to make you come so hard.” You’re moaning in response to this, leg wavering as you feel the slide of Jungkook’s forefinger push into you. He hums in appreciation, your tightness inviting the chafe of his finger. He places a chaste kiss just above your pubic bone as he begins a slow rhythmic pump of his finger.

“Fuck,” you breath out, the ridges of his calloused digit filling you far greater than your own ever has. You can’t even begin to imagine how his dick will feel, your fingers laced into his hair tightening their hold as well.

It’s when you feel the point of Jungkook’s deft tongue stroke against your clit that you cry out, his hand gripping your hip harder against the wall as he feels you waver above him. Your eyes flutter to a close, letting him have his way with you against his tongue. He uses it mercilessly, flicks pointed and dexterous against your clit as his finger pushes in and out of your tight heat. “Oh my god, Jungkook.” He inserts another finger and you nearly lose yourself.

Your eyes are rolled back, your hips involuntarily jerking away from Jungkook’s grip as they push forward in search of more of his mouth. You feel it bubbling inside you, each stroke of his fingers and each swirl of his tongue making it impossible for you to focus on anything else but this feeling. He laps around your clit, strict and continuous. When you open your eyes to look down, you see his gorgeous hair enveloped in the thread of your fingers. You’ve never been eaten out against a wall like this and it only adds more to your impending undoing.

Jungkook’s digits move quicker now, with each pump comes a curl that elicits the neediest of whimpers to fall past your lips. He feels his cock twitch with every sound you make, a melodic hymn to his ears. He alternates between sharp flicks and taking the whole of your clit with his mouth in a gentle siphon. This time there is no barrier of a wall between the two of you, this time he can hear you as vividly as he hears the tits chirp outside his window every morning and this time, you are not using a vibrator on yourself, he’s fucking you with his tongue.

He can feel you tightening against his fingers, your walls clenching unimaginably tight around him with every stroke. You are close, so very close and the feel of his relentless tongue lapping around your clit along with his slender fingers has you seeing nothing but the ceiling above you. Jungkook picks up the pace of his tongue as well, his head moving in vigour as he fervently pushes the wet muscle against your bead.

He senses it coming before you do, his tongue and fingers in a violent rhythm. You jerk above him, your hold on his hair impossibly tight as you let yourself go, crying out his name from your orgasm. He feels your squirt spray out of you, it coats his mouth and chin, sprinkling even to his chest as you shake above him. Jungkook does not stop, digits pumping even faster, tongue continuing their assault.

You chant his name as you writhe underneath his grasp. The sensation becomes too much within seconds of your orgasm but somehow his persistence makes it feel as if you can come all over again.

“J-jungkook p-please,” you beg, your fingers unraveling from his hair and tightening onto his shoulders as you try to push him away. He follows suit, unlatching his mouth from your heat before languidly rising to his feet.

When you look at him, his lips are swollen and painted in your clear arousal, your squirt coating down the cleft of his chin, streaming his neck and sprinkled across his chest. It matches his damp hair, uniform with the wetness of his previous shower.

“You...just...squirted. All over me.” You can’t quite tell if this statement holds aversion at first. Truth be told, you’ve never squirted from a man’s tongue against you.

Jungkook steps closer. “Do you know how fucking hot that was?” You don’t know, but Jungkook is taking your hand into his and placing it over it his very hard bulge. You gasp at the feel underneath your palms, unyielding to your touch. It’s far greater of a bulge than you’ve ever felt before.

You smell yourself on him, a faint fragrance that you taste when Jungkook leans forward to kiss you with greed. His mouth his sticky, kisses lingering against your lips. When he pulls away, his fingers glide over the knot that holds his towel up. You watch him, eagerly as he pulls at the twist, letting the towel to fall to the floor with a soft thud.

Fuck.

Holy fuck.

“Oh my god,” you catch yourself saying out loud.

Jungkook is big. Larger, thicker than you could have ever imagined. An erect serpentine that lays firmly in his hand as he takes the base of his cock in his palm, you can’t look away. You gulp, eyes flickering between his daunting length and his growing smirk. Your mouth suddenly feels parched, a tentative tongue poking through the seams of your lips to swipe over your lips. Something about him not using the towel to directly wipe off your squirt makes your stomach flip with somersaults, so aroused by the idea of him wearing your ograsm on him with pride.

Jungkook twirls his forefinger in the air. “Turn around,” he commands and you oblige, twisting your body as you lay the flat of your palms against the cool wall. Jungkook pulls at your hips, mumbling words of profanities as your ass grinds against his thick erection. He already feels so full against your heat.

Kicking your legs open and apart, his feet stand in between yours, making it impossible for you to close them. He places a kiss against your shoulder, your forehead rested flush to the wall as a tender hand kneads at the cheek of your ass. He spanks it once, the echo of both the slap and your yelp of surprise travelling down the hall.

Hot and heavy against the shell of your ear, his damp hair tickles your neck as he whispers. “Think you can take it, baby?”

“Y-yes.” Your answer is short and breathless, hips instinctively grinding against him for further proof of your want. This earns you another spank and Jungkook is taking the base of his cock in one hand, spreading your cheeks with his free hand as he lines up to your cunt.

He nudges past your folds with his head, speaking in a low growl. “Good girl. Now let’s hear you scream.” He pushes in.

The stretch of his tip pressing into you tingles with a sizzling burn, the pressure that follows has your fingers curling against the wall and an arm reaching back to grasp onto Jungkook’s hip.

He takes your offering hand, interlocking your fingers together as he pushes another inch into you before pulling back out. He lets you adjust, your mixed moans echoing throughout the hallway as he juts his head forward to fill you once again.

His girth pinches against your walls, deliciously so and Jungkook pauses every couple of moments to let you feel every inch fill you until he’s reached the hilt.

He lets your hand go and you bring it back to press against the wall in aid of holding you up. “That’s it, baby...take every inch of it.” His voice is low, husky, something so carnally divine in the clip of his syllables that it has you rolling your head back. “You’re doing so fucking good. Does it feel good?”

“Y-yes,” you say as you exhale shakily.

He rolls out of you, his name just on the edge of your tongue before he’s thrusting forward to have it spill out of your mouth. The velvet smooth feel of Jungkook’s cock mixing with your slick arousal makes the pinching sensation come to an ease. He’s swearing behind you, alternating between muttered profanities and guttural moans.

“So. Fucking. Tight. You feel so good, baby, taking me so well.” His fingers are firmly grasping onto your hips, his thrusts now beginning a steady rhythm as he steadily fucks you against the wall. Jungkook’s girth knocks the breath out of you, a full pressure that fills your tight cunt so satisfyingly, you almost lose yourself a second time within minutes from your first orgasm.

Jungkook is panting behind you, fingers surely leaving bruises against your skin as he speeds his hips to pound into you. He loosens his grip, three of his digits tracing a line down your spine before cutting around your waist and hovering above your clit. “Come again for me, baby. One more time, squirt for me.” It’s with these words that you decide, you don’t want to squirt on the floor once more, you want to squirt on him, on top of him.

“W-wait.” You reach your arm back, pressing the flat of your hand to his hip in a gesture to stop. He stills immediately.

“Did I hurt you?” The worry in his voice only causes you to release a breathless laugh, shaking your head no in reassurance.

“I want to ride you.” How could Jungkook ever say no to that? Without a beat of hesitance, he slides out of you, taking his cock in his hand before lightly tapping the head against each of your cheeks. Gripping your waist, he spins you to face him, a dimpled smile greeting you as you reach his gaze.

“Mm, is that so?” He asks and you nod, returning his smile. The dim glow of sunlight pouring into the hallway allows you to see the glowy sheen of his sweat and your arousal glimmer against his face and chest, enhancing his tattoos. The dampness of his curls have dried but a new layer of perspiration forms a film over his forehead.

You take Jungkook’s hand in yours, leaning forward to place a chase kiss on his lips before you’re leading him into your bedroom. You walk him backwards, your hands on his shoulders and his eyes focused nowhere but on yours. It’s when the back of his knees knock against the edge of your bed that he’s forced to have a seat.

He expects you to straddle him, you see it in the glimmer of his doe eyes but instead, you drop to your knees in front of him, arms separating his inked thighs apart. This takes Jungkook by surprise, he cocks his head to the side, an eyebrow raising in question.

You hands glide up and down his legs, a grin stretching across your face as you lean forward and place a gentle peck to the base of his thick cock. Jungkook hums in satisfaction, eyes holding a challenge as he watches you with great concentration.

The pink of his head looks all too inviting as you take his cock in your hands. As you do so, Jungkook’s hands roam up your arms before they’re resting on each of your shoulders. He benignly grips at the tense muscles of your shoulders, thumbs moving in circles over your skin. “You’re tense.” He vocalizes.

“You’re fucking huge.” You hit back, eyes wide and mouth salivating at the heaviness in your grasp. It’s tacky, coated in you as you swipe a thumb over the head and Jungkook hisses above you. When you look up at him, his dark eyes are speared to your movements, teeth gritted. You begin moving your hands up and down his length.

“You can take it in your mouth, can’t you?” The tone in his voice depicts a challenge and your ears nearly perk in interest. Of course you can take him in your mouth. You lean forward, Jungkook’s broad hands leaving the expanse of your shoulders to slide up the sides of your head. His fingers comb your hair back, pulling it into a makeshift ponytail. The movement flexes the muscles on his inked biceps and you have to admit to yourself that he looks so fucking good.

Jungkook is all too eager as he watches you, the flat of your tongue sticking out to lick around the rim of his head. He chokes back a groan, grip on your hair tightening. You stretch your mouth as wide as you can, a discomfort to your movement as you engulf the whole of his head with your tongue. Jungkook inhales a sharp breath, fingers threaded into your hair as he eases you down to take more of him.

You wrap your lips around the velvet tip, beginning a slow suction. “Fuck,” Jungkook mumbles from above you, shifting on the mattress, watching you. “Open wider, baby.” You do as asked, jaw already sore from the girth of his head alone. He pushes his hips off the mattress in the slightest, grip on your hair firm as he thrusts more of himself into your mouth.

You’re careful not to let your teeth graze over the skin of his cock, your fingers tightening around his length before you start to twist your wrists and continue sucking. Jungkook is careful to be gentle with you, very tenderly urging his cock to fill more of your mouth. It shocks you when you feel the blunt of his head hit the cap of your airway, eliciting a gag.

Jungkook pulls out a millimeter before he’s pushing back in, teeth gritted and eyes focused. Your mouth looks so pretty stuffed with his cock; it’s almost as pretty as your cunt taking him to the hilt.

Another gag rumbles out of you and vibrates against his member, this time, Jungkook being the one to moan. His hips stutter in shallow thrusts into your mouth and you feel the sting of tears threatening to blur your vision.

The sounds of your gagging bounces off the walls of your bedroom, followed by the guttural moans of Jungkook as he fucks your mouth. Each thrust of his hips causes the head of his cock to push past your airway.

You release your hold around his length, fingers thickly coated in your own saliva as you find purchase of the flesh of his thighs. You let him have his way with you, your mouth stretched as wide as you can physically make it and a single thread of a tear rolling down your cheek. You look up through the flutters of your eyelashes, pleased to see the Adam’s apple in Jungkook’s throat bob up and down while his head is thrown back in pleasure.

The sudden pull of his cock from your mouth comes with a light ‘pop’ followed by you gasping for air. Using his hold on your hair, he jerks your hair back so you’re forced to look up at him. He hungrily latches his lips onto yours, sloppy and wet with a relentless tongue that intrudes your mouth.

You slide your hands over his thighs, towards the ridges of muscles on his abdomen as he helps you rise to your feet. Your right palm travels up his chest, your other arm circling around Jungkook’s neck as you let him grab a handful of your ass. With a persuasive lift, he places you on his lap, your legs wrapping around his torso as his mouth remains on yours.

“M’let me ride m’you,” you gasp in between kisses, Jungkook’s toned arms looping around your waist as he shuffles closer to the edge of the mattress.

“Yeah?” He moves from your mouth to the edge of your jaw.

“Please.” Jungkook loosens his grip around your waist, letting you rest the front of your calves on either side of him. You situate yourself, raising your hips as your hand finds his still, very erect length to line against your core.

“Look at you so needy for my cock, don’t hate me so much anymore?” The smugness in his tone only grants him a glare from you, a chuckle following his tease. “In case you haven’t noticed, I’m in need of you too.” You have noticed, his massive cock hasn’t wavered in want in the slightest since he first kissed you.

You huff a breath. “I never hated you.” Rubbing his head a few times over your sex, you finally sink down onto it, your cunt eagerly taking in his head. You gasp at the feel of this new position, his length gliding in much smoother with your previous practice. “You just need to start washing your fucking dish- ah!” You cry out, hands fumbling to grasp at his shoulders as Jungkook juts his hips up, slamming into you. His girth stretches your walls once again and he feels so fucking delicious in you like this. Quite frankly, you’re unsure if you’ll be able to go back to an average sized penis ever again.

“Mm, I should keep pissing you off if it means I get to shut you up like this.” His voice hitches at the last word as you pick your hips up and ram yourself back down onto his cock. You both moan at this, your arms once again looping around Jungkook’s neck as his hands firmly grip your hips in guidance.

Your teeth clash as you kiss him with each bounce of your hips, the position more so letting you gently rock over his cock. Your clit rubs against his skin with each roll of your hips, making sure you alternate between circling your hips and bouncing on his cock. Jungkook is losing himself, you know this because he holds you tightly, firmly as he lets you take control. You ride him hard and slow, the pre crescendo to his coming end.

“Come for me, Jungkook,” You moan against the shell of his ear, legs losing stamina as you try to keep a rhythmic pace. But Jungkook doesn’t want to finish just yet, he wants you to come again too.

You yelp as he slides his hands under your ass, lifting you off him before he’s throwing you onto the mattress so you’re on your back. He stands up, above you at the edge of your bed, taking your knees in the crevice of his elbows before yanking you towards him.

“Where is it?” He gruffs, fingers gripping your waist.

“What?”

“Your vibrator, where is it?” If you weren’t flushed already from Jungkook’s cock, you’d be blushing at his knowledge that you even had one. You stretch your arm above you, fingers reaching underneath a pillow where you usually keep it hidden. Grasping the device in hand, you bring it out, idly waving it in front of the ink-skinned boy. He grins, the youthful boy-like glint returning in the doe of his eyes as he releases your leg from the arm that extends to retrieve it from you.

Inspecting the controls, he finds the power button, clicking it on. A low buzz fills the room. the words that follow leaving you breathless again.

“Ah...now there’s the noise I like to hear every night.” Clicking it back off, Jungkook places it carefully next you before hooking your leg back around his elbow, hoisting your hips up. You watch with eager eyes as he pokes his tongue past his lips, letting a string of saliva drizzle carefully over his cock. He smooths the slick over his cock, letting it coat the entirety of his length before he’s guiding his head against your opening.

He gently slaps his head against your clit before rubbing against it, letting your arousal build once more. You shift your hips in impatience, fingers gripping tightly against your sheets. Jungkook leans down towards your mouth, claiming your lips once more, hard and deep. He tastes of sweat and your arousal, a tinge of salt that you lick away. When he pulls away, he’s pushing his cock into you again.

The curve of his dick hits differently with this position, now he has more control with hitting just the right spots. He’s slow at first, frustrating slow as if he’s testing each stroke of his hips to see how you react. When he’s surging forward until he’s got an inch remaining, you’re crying out loud.

“Here?” He asks and you nod profusely, words unable to form on your tongue. Jungkook pushes even deeper, another cry escaping your lungs at the new fullness. Your grip around your sheets grow tighter, teeth harshly biting down on your lip as he begins steady rock in and out of you.

You’ve never been filled so well like this, his cock hitting every surface area of your inner walls as he stretches you delectably with each roll of his hips. He fucks into you, hard and deep, changing from circling his hips to pistoning into you with no mercy. He talks filth into the air, profanities and moans chased by the sounds of skin slapping as he relentlessly plummets into you.

He can feel you about to come, the pressure of your clenched walls tightening around him to un unprecedented degree. With each thrust, your cunt only eagerly invites him back in, needy for his spurts of cum. This is when Jungkook grabs the vibrator he placed beside you, thumb quick to power the device on. You yelp and mewl as he places the silicone tip against your clit, the vibration ringing through both of you. The sensation is overwhelming, the girth of his cock mixed with the jolts of your stimulated clit leave you near screaming his name. You shake underneath him, legs quivering as you feel the rise of your orgasm build through your entire body.

“You can squirt again, baby. I know you can. I know you want to.” Your body jerks and still as the combination of one more thrust and the vibe hit you exactly where you need it to, to come undone. Jungkook doesn’t fight it, the pressure of your squirt pushing his cock out of your tightness. “That’s it, darling, so fucking hot.” He keeps the vibrator on you and you whimper, releasing the clutch of the sheets as you flail your arms towards the vibrator in an attempt to push it away from you. Jungkook does not budge.

“P-please, fuck, Jungkook...it’s too much, please.” He does not stop, watching you with intent as your body shakes underneath his control of the vibrator. He knows you can come again.

“One more time.” Your legs are desperately trying to clamp shut but Jungkook expertly holds your legs apart with his torso as he continues assaulting your clit with the silicone. It buzzes against you, rings through your entire body and within minutes you’re coming all over again. It’s so intense, you nearly black out, your voice clamouring to a scream of Jungkook’s name.

He turns it off and throws it somewhere on the mattress before he’s sliding into you with ease. He fucks your squirt back into you with a push of his cock.

This time, Jungkook wastes no time. This time, he drills into you, clamping your legs together as he pushes them forward until your knees hit your chest. This position allows him to go deeper, watching your cunt swallow every inch of his cock with greed along with every thrust of his hips. He feels his orgasm rapidly approaching.

Each snap of his hips become sloppier, his laboured breathing sporadic as his fingers dig harshly into your calves.

“Where do you want me to come?” He rasps, pulling your legs apart once more.

“I-inside me, please.” Your words elicit a mumbled fuck from him followed by a groan. You watch him through lidded eyes, your head thick and heavy from your plentiful of orgasms. Jungkook looks like the God of sex himself above you, sweat dribbling down his forehead, his dark long waves spilling over his eyes, his inked chest glistening and his muscles flexing with every grind of his hips into you. He is the most beautiful man you’ve ever seen. “Come, Jungkook,” you coo, egging him to come undone. “Come inside me.”

With the last phrase, his hips stutter and still before he’s gasping for a breath as he spills himself into you. He shouts your name, voice getting caught in his throat. He steadily moves again, milking every last drop of himself inside of you as your walls achingly aid him.

As he comes to a stop, the room is filled with nothing but the sounds of your mixed heavy panting. Jungkook leans forward, pressing a heavy kiss against your lips before he’s pulling away from your mouth and away from your cunt. He watches, mesmerized as his cum dribbles out of you. It’s the hottest thing he’s ever seen, your tight cunt filled to the brim with his seed.

“Fuck,” he pants, reaching his arm out to help you sit up. You roll your head forward into your palms, the rush of dopamine pounding into your skull with a massive headache. “You okay?” He asks and you nod your head, face still encompassed by your hands.

“You...should piss me off more often.” Jungkook chuckles at this. When you look up from your hands, his wavy locks have a newfound dampness, beads of sweat encompassing his tattooed chest. He’s grinning, a lopsided grin that leaves you with a warm feeling pounding in your chest.

Jungkook offers you a hand, guiding you off the bed. You take it, letting him pick you up to your feet with the strength of his biceps.

“Yeah, yeah I should.” You’re both walking out your bedroom and towards the shower.

Seokjin wears nothing but a grimace at the kitchen island as he watches you and Jungkook coo at each other. He’s just returned from his trip abroad, hands crossed over his chest as he observes the blasphemy before his eyes. Jungkook is by the stove, flipping the last of Seokjin’s steak and you’re beside him preparing a salad on the counter.

“Disgusting.” Seokjin scowls. “I leave for three months and this happens?” He scoffs at the thought of the two of you cooking him steak for dinner, as if it would break the bearer of this terrible, awful news. You two are now dating. His best friend and his roommate- to Seokjin, it’s an ultimate betrayal.

You sigh and roll your eyes, setting your freshly made salad in front of him as Jungkook brings over a sizzling pan of steak. He wears a grin on his face, a grin that matches yours before you’re leaning on your tiptoes to kiss against the indented dimple against his lower cheek. Seokjin nearly gags at this.

He truly thought he’d be rid of you as soon as this lease had ended but here you were, snogging who he thought to be his best friend. He thinks he’ll have to burn his mattress too.

“Great,” he says, deadpan, picking up his knife and fork. “I’m stuck with you forever now.” With the greatest of fake enthusiasm, he musters a disingenuous smile and angrily digs into his steak.

He hates that it’s delicious.

a/n: HEWWOOOO. how u feeling!? 🥴i REALLY!!! did not expect this fic to be so long holy shit im so sorry, i went out of control!!!! this was very loosely based off real-life events that were then fuelled by jungkook’s lotte concert look. and badda bing, badda boom, a 13k fic of pure smut is born and i am wholly unashamed of myself. i really hope you enjoyed reading this filth, it was very fun for me to write!!! please let me know what you think and as always, thank you for reading and i love youuuu 💞

#bts smut #jungkook smut #jungkook x reader #armiesnet #bangtanarmynet #ggukienet #jeon jungkook #jungkook #bangtan smut #btssmutclub #networkbangtan #bts x reader #jungkook x you #bts x you #bts #oneshot #fic #kpop

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gravesightings · 4 years

Text

fleeting

→ reader x rz myers → gender-neutral reader → one-shot.

"got something for you," you chimed as you stepped inside your flat, various brown paper bags nestled in your arms. truth be told you were unsure whether or not michael was even home. despite being the lone person he trusts, he still has the habit of sneaking around the house seemingly without reason. you weren't easy to scare. even with his intimidating stature, the most he could get out of you was a silent flinch and nothing more. maybe that’s why he’s so fixated on you?

it's always difficult to tell with michael.

one thing's for sure though: his curiosity is not something to be taken lightly. when he doesn't get the reaction he wants, the gears start turning in his head. you weren't scared of him - why? could that change? how? him being verbally unresponsive doesn't help with the case either. you're always kept on your toes no matter what the circumstance.

without needing a reply, you set down the bags at the kitchen counter. the place appears untouched - just like how you left it. yet you feel as though he's around somewhere. waiting, watching. it would be stupid of you to expect him to greet you at the door. living with him had somehow increased your sixth sense. how could it not? you've caught him watching you many times before. for someone so large, you'd expect him to (at the very least) be uncomfortable with hiding in such confined spaces.

it's strange but it's certainly better than falling victim to the shape. god knows what his body count is at this point. he's not one to brag, but you've learned to keep the TV turned all the way down whenever the bodies start being discovered. whenever that happens he's sure to be nearby - gauging your reaction. are you scared of him now? would you turn him in? has your usefulness finally run its course?

the crinkle of the packaging rouses you from your train of thought. every fiber of your being screams at you to be quiet. he's near, you can feel it. but like always, you push these thoughts at the back of your head. it had been a particularly sunny morning. the weather had been good to you during your little errand run. it wasn't time to do the groceries quite yet but you had to go out to pay the bills nonetheless. usually you'd be home immediately. on your way home though, you stopped by a coffee shop to pick up a few things to snack on.

it was a routine of some sorts. whenever michael was home, you always told him where you were going and when you'd be back. this was unprompted - just something you started doing out of the blue. the first time you had done so he had looked at you differently, his gaze remained expressionless but you could tell there was a hint of peculiarity in his eyes. when you had gone home that day he was uncharacteristically lounging at the couch - not looming in the shadows waiting to scare you.

you had done the same earlier that day. "just out to pay the bills real quick," you said. he remained silent as usual - but this time he caught your gaze with his own when you went out the door. you could tell he was always listening in some way, but it was strange seeing him actually acknowledge you trying to communicate with him.

there had always been just a collective silence between the two of you. the uncomfortable kind at first... but as time passed, you learned to appreciate the simplicity of it. just existing quietly.

an audible creak pulled you from your train of thought, your focus shifting towards the source of the noise. normally michael never made any noise at all, so either it was on purpose or something was wrong. to your surprise it actually was michael - now bounding towards you. nothing appears to be out of place. the lack of new stains on his suit tells you he hadn't done much since your departure. he catches you stare, but you avert your gaze in an attempt to hide the fact that you're elated that he's making an effort to open up.

"hey. got something for you," you repeated even though you're sure he had heard you the first time. carefully, you removed the cookies from the parchment to place them on a plate. you hadn't actually seen him eat or drink before but as far as you could tell he's still human underneath the mask. pastries had gone missing on more than one occasion so you could only guess it was none other than your "roommate." other times you've fallen victim to sipping on an empty coffee mug when you were positive you hadn't drank that much yet. either he poured it down the sink for fun or drank it all for himself. you've tried to test this by making him his own coffee but he always goes for yours.

"I don't know if you actually like drinking coffee but I got you one too." the explanation probably wasn't needed but you place one of the drinks near him regardless. again, he says nothing as you walk off to another room with a drink in hand and a cookie in the other. it wasn't an unspoken rule of any sort, how you went to a different room whenever you offered him something to eat or drink. just common courtesy. the mask was there for good reason.

the coffee turned out to be sweeter than you expected, earning a small wince when you had taken a generous sip. there's movement in your peripherals, coming from where michael was supposedly gorging himself with the pastries you brought home. good thing you managed to get one for yourself. without much thought you decide to take a seat at the couch before turning the TV on. it was another news report. another body had been discovered.

despite being overly sweet, the drink turned out to pair extremely well with the cookies. so well in fact, that you held onto the very small possibility that michael hadn't eaten all the sweets. halfway through your drink though, it seems that michael had a sudden inescapable urge to terrorize you. you nearly jolted from your seat when you felt his hand grasp around your cup, the entirety of your hand being pulled along with it.

"mike, you have one for yo--" suffice to say you were more than surprised to find michael nonchalantly drinking from your cup - unmasked. it was the first time you've ever seen his face. his piercing gaze darted back to you when you had lost your voice all of a sudden. the intial shock wore off in a few seconds, but you sat there frozen, still struggling to process that this man was actually drop-dead gorgeous. the embarrassment came just as sudden. the heat immediately rushed up your neck, spreading across your face to your ears.

michael's eyes widened ever-so-slightly, and that's when you knew you had fucked up. your sudden shyness had piqued his interest.

"just- just take it." you managed to utter. shit, shit, shit. you had never stuttered around him before. not a shred of fear or panic. you move to withdraw your hand, but michael's grip remains rigid.

"really. I think I've had enough caffeine." you let out a half-hearted laugh, suddenly very aware of how heavy he has his gaze set on you. though as much as you tried to avoid eye contact, you inevitably look up at him. once you do, he moves to grip at your wrist instead. the movement catches you off guard as the paper cup slips from your grasp, the little liquid that remained now spilling onto the floor below.

"ah, shit. c'mon, mike..." there goes another mess to clean up. when you break eye contact to look wistfully at the mess on the floor, he decides to risk it. michael draws closer, stepping in front of you menacingly. in a split second you decide looking at him in the eye would be better than looking at.... well, his crotch. you don't bother to say a word - afraid that your voice would betray you for the second time. the heat hadn't quite left your ears just yet. the grip on your wrist grows tighter, and you're left at the mercy of unmasked michael trapping you against the couch.

a few seconds pass before he decides to lean down closer to you. instinctively, you back up into the couch until all the space was gone. michael leans down some more, blond locks gently brushing against your face. he catches the way you suddenly hold your breath in response. his other hand raises slowly and you take the opportunity to avoid his gaze. he glides his digits against your face, his touch disturbingly gentle. the way heat rushes up to your cheeks amuses him further, earns another tilt of his head.

"nervous," his voice comes out hoarse and raspy from the years of misuse. the surprise is plastered all over your face at this point, and you somehow can't bring yourself to find the words to talk. nervous? of course you were fucking nervous! before you could manage to pull yourself together though, he relents and pulls away. without another word he disappears into another room, leaving you in a state of utter disbelief on the couch.

what the fuck just happened?

#oneshot #my writing #slashers #michael myers #rz michael myers #michael x you #michael myers x you #self-insert #fleeting #michael @ anything you own: is for me?#michael @ you: is for me?#the yearning be hitting different again today lads #contrary to popular belief mikey is not dead inside #no i will not elaborate

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imanativeofswlondondahling · 4 years

Text

Becoming A Stark? (1) Peter Parker X Stark! Fem Reader

A/N: This will eventually be a Peter Parker X Stark! femReader. However, there was backstory needed so Peter won’t be introduced until Chapter Six. This takes place after Iron Man 3 but before AOU. However time is wishy washy and will pass in weird ways so lol opps. Let me know if you want to be tagged.

Word Count: 3073

Warnings: Swearing

You feel it in your soul that you will hate Tony Stark for the rest of your life. It doesn’t matter that you’re related to him. It doesn’t matter that you’re his daughter. He ripped you from everything you’ve ever known. You were happy living with your grandparents. Sure they were getting up there in age, but you were happy. You had a life, you had friends, hell you had been working on moving forward with your crush and were hoping to have a date to homecoming this year. But all of that was ruined the day that Tony Stark waltzed through your front door. You can’t help but think back to that interaction.

“Nana, who’s this?”

“Tony Stark. Genius, billionaire, philanthropist, Iron Man, to name a few things. I’d offer a hand but that’s not something I normally do. I guess, maybe I should due to the circumstances but…” It’s not the first time you’ve seen his face. The Avengers have saved New York a few times, but it is the first time you’ve seen him up close. The dark haired stranger trails off and you’re put off by his attitude alone. Why was someone this stuck up standing in your living room? So instead of saying anything, you turn your head back to your book. Tony decides to take a seat at the opposite end of the couch and tries again. “What are you reading?”

Instead of answering, you just hold up the book and let him read the cover. Once and Future, spelled out on the spine of the book that you had removed the book jacket from while you read. “Y/N, maybe put the book down for a few minutes. I think Mr. Stark-”

“Tony is fine.”

“I think Tony and you need to discuss something.” You hesitantly pick up the receipt you had been using as a bookmark and slide it into the book, not wanting to leave Ari Helix behind, but you wouldn’t be rude to your Nana on a good day. On a day that you had trudged through the snow in your converse, maybe, but not on purpose.

“I don’t know him. I don’t think we have anything to discuss.”

“You’re right, we don’t know each other yet, but I’m hoping that will change with everything that’s going to happen.”

“What’s going to happen?” You can feel your eyebrows fall towards your eyes as you feel as though something is about to change without your permission.

“Well Y/N, I’m… I’m your dad.”

“Bullshit.” You say quickly. “Tony Stark doesn’t have kids. And if he did, there would have been a fucking gossip blog screaming about it already.”

“Well you definitely have my mouth if nothing else.” Tony adds with a chuckle.

“I don’t have anything of yours, because you’re not my dad. I never want to see you again. Get the fuck out.” You push off the couch and turn to run off to your room.

“See that’s going to be a little tough seeing as you're supposed to come live with me.”

“What the fuck did you just say?” You turn on your heels, the anger building quickly. You’ve always been a bit of a hot head, but in this moment you don’t even try to control your temper. “I have a home, thank you very kindly. I don’t fucking know you. And I’m not looking to find a dad anytime soon.” The words spit out of you before you can stop any of them.

“See the thing is, you’re fourteen and I’m your dad. Custodially, you’re supposed to live with me.”

“See the thing is,” you mock before continuing, “You didn’t care for fourteen years, so I don’t give a shit what you think you’re supposed to be doing custodially.” You can’t help but add air quotes around the word custodially. It burns as it leaves your lips. He hasn’t cared about you for fourteen years, why start now?

“That’s because I didn’t know you existed Y/N. I found out about you twenty four hours ago and I’m stepping up now.” The words leave his mouth in an exasperated tone, but he doesn’t raise his voice.

“How?”

“How what?”

“How did you find out about me?”

“Your high school.”

“What?”

“When you registered for school they had your birth certificate. They needed more information. Since it listed me as your father, they reached out to Nat- to my assistant. It was quite the shock to me that my child’s school was reaching out to me, since I didn’t know I had a child but the timing adds up and looking at you, it makes a lot of sense.”

“You were listed on my birth certificate?” This question was aimed at your grandparents more than at Tony-your father.

“We didn’t know if it was true or not. Your mom was in a bad place when she had you Y/N. So we had to take everything she said with a grain of salt. Was she beautiful and loving and did she love you? Yes completely. But did a lot of what she said during that time make sense? No, not at all.” Your nana says as she sits down on the couch, rubbing her knee. It’s probably another bad day. If you leave, who will make sure Nana and Pops are ok?

“I can’t go with you.” You cross your arms as you speak to Ton-your father.

“Why not?” His eyebrow raises over his square glasses.

“‘Cuz someone has to help Nana and Pops around the house.”

“I’ll make sure there’s a nurse helping them. Or better we can move them into a nursing facility where they don’t have to go up and down a bunch of flights of steps all the time.”

“Why would you do that.” The question came out as a demand, especially since you don’t want to believe this man that’s taking you away from the only family you’ve ever known would do something… nice.

“Because they’re your family. I’m not heartless. Well I guess that depends on what your belief on science is and arc reactors are, but technically I do still have a heart underneath all of this.” He points to where you know there would be metal and lights under his suit. “But for right now, we need to focus on getting you to the tower.”

“What tower?”

“Avenger’s tower? It’s closer than Malibu? And in less shambles.”

“So you’re moving me from the home that I know and love, but you don’t even live where you’re moving me?”

“I live there a lot of the time. And the Avengers are there most of the time which means you’ll be very safe. But I do have to travel for business.”

“Then I’ll stay where I am thanks.” Tony goes to speak when Wallace goes off. The beeping is only jarring for him since you and your Nana are used to it going off at random times.

“What the hell is that?”

“That is Wallace.” You say, not clearing up anything. Hmmm, your Dexcom says you’re 205 and rising? You could have sworn you had insulin on board. So you unclip the pump from your side and tap the screen to enter your blood sugar. No correction needed.

“You good babydoll?” Your nana asks from across the living room.

“I’m good. I have insulin on board.”

“You’re diabetic?” Tony asks, putting two and two together.

“Yup. Have been since I was four.”

“And Wallace?” He asks hesitantly.

“Do you honestly care?” You say before rolling your eyes and walking towards the kitchen. Mentally, you slap yourself. You should have grabbed your book. Now you’ll either have to start a new one or wait until your father, you roll your eyes at even saying it, leaves so you can continue your space adventure. Walking down the hallway you enter your room and close the door behind you. All you want to do is shut out the bombshell that was dropped on you and not deal with it. But for some reason you get the feeling that Tony Stark, freaking Iron Man, isn’t one to just let things go.

Giving up on the idea of starting another book, you open your computer and click your Spotify to start playing the playlist you had paused this morning when you had left to run errands with Pops. You only have two weeks of summer left, so you had spent time getting school supplies and groceries before returning to the apartment. While Hitchin’ A Ride by Green Day starts playing, you open Twitter, hoping for anything to distract yourself. But somehow you find yourself on Tony Stark’s Twitter. It was less narcissistic that you imagined for him. Some retweets about Stark Industries, a few comical tweets about wanting a cheeseburger, and then a tweet from twenty four hours that just said HOLY SHIT in all caps and nothing else. Could that be about you? Closing out Twitter, you find yourself opening up your Tumblr to scroll as Lithium by Nirvana played. Or well you tried to scroll, but a knock on your door interrupts you.

“Can I come in?” Tony’s head peaks in.

“If I say no will you go?” You say without looking up.

“Probably not. The people in my inner circle say I’m fairly stubborn.”

“Hmm.” Is the only reply you give him. To be fair, a lot of your friends would say you’re stubborn too so it’s not that surprising that your father is too.

“I know you don’t like it kiddo-”

“Don’t call me kiddo.

“-but we do need to head to the Tower soon. Happy’s been parked downstairs for about as long as he’s allowed to be there.” Tony continues as if you hadn’t said anything. “So how about you pack up stuff you’ll need for the next few days and then I can send Happy and some other people to come get the rest later on?”

“You’re going to send people to pack up my stuff? You know how invasive that is?”

“Ok, I’ll send you over with them, you can pack it up and they’ll move it to the tower, it’s your choice. Or to Malibu if you’d rather. Well that is once the rebuild is done. Long story. But if you stay at the tower, you won’t have to change schools.”

“Yippee. Everyone at school will get to find out that Tony Stark is my father. How much fun will that be.” Your voice is dripping with sarcasm. “I definitely wanted to be ostracized my first year at high school. Thanks for making it even better than I could ever imagine high school being.”

“Look I know this isn’t a win/win scenario, but we can keep your name out of the press until your eighteen if you want. You’re a minor-”

“Yeah, but when the paparazzi see me coming out of the tower, that won’t tip them off.”

“I’ll have Happy drive you. There’s a garage entrance. No one will see you coming or leaving.”

“Great so I just have to give up my freedom. That’s even better than I imagined.”

“Y/N, I know this isn’t what you wanted, or even what you want, but I think we can come up with something that works in the long run. Plus I’m having Pepper, you’ll meet her later, take over SI so I won’t have to do as much. I can try to stay in New York as much as possible. Because no matter what happens, you’re my daughter and I want to know you.” You don’t say anything in response. “I hope one day, you feel similarly.” He says softly.

“I doubt it.” You say honestly.

“Well even if that’s the case, right now we do need to pack up some stuff to take to the tower for now. Want me to hel-” He starts to pick up a sweatshirt from the end of your bed and you snatch it from his hand as you reply.

“I’ve got it.”

“Y/N, we’re here.” Your father’s voice pulls you from your thoughts and you look at the non descript parking garage that is under what you assume is the tower. The man you’ve figured out is Happy, though he’s the exact opposite of Happy, opens your door and you climb out, knowing that Tony will be behind you. Happy goes to grab your bags from the trunk, but you stop him.

“I’ve got it.”

“It’s part of my job.”

“I don’t have an issue carrying my own stuff like some people.” From the trunk you lift out your purple backpack, the black rolling suitcase, and the canvas bag that’s filled with all your pump supplies, sensors, and insulin. You follow Tony and Happy towards an elevator.

“JARVIS take us to the main floors.”

“Certainly sir.” You look up expecting to see a face or something but there’s no one there.

“JARVIS is the AI that runs the whole tower. If you need anything JARVIS is the one to ask. If there’s specific food you want or if you need stuff for school or, well, anything really, just ask JARVIS. I’ll get you added to the levels of clearance that allow you to order anything that you want.”

“You don’t have to do that.”

“Part of you living with me is that I’m going to provide for you. JARVIS is part of providing for you. I’m not the best at remembering to like grocery shop or send the laundry out so JARVIS helps with that.”

“Send the laundry out? Do you not have a washer and dryer in this whole place?” You cock an eyebrow at how spoiled he sounds.

“We do, but there are other things that take time away from me.” You add continue to do my own laundry to the mental list of things that will make you different from your father. Tony notices the disapproval marked in his daughter’s face and hopes that maybe meeting the Avengers will make up for the disappointment he’s been to her so far. The doors open and in the living room Natasha and Clint are sitting watching a movie while Steve sits in a chair reading a book. “Where’s Code Green?”

“In the lab,” Steve comments, not looking up from the page he’s on.

“That’s Capsicle. Legolas is sitting next to Nat. Big Green is down in the lab and Point Break is currently back at home but you’ll meet him eventually, though hopefully not his brother.” At the sound of being introduced the three in the living room look up and see the girl standing next to Tony in surprise.

“Uh, Tony, are we taking pint size Avengers now?” Clint asks.

“I might be small, but I can kick your knees out just as easily.” You pull on the strap of your backpack, not really wanting to be in this room much longer.

“Ok, before you kick anyone’s knees out. This is not an Avenger recruit. This is Y/N Stark, my daughter.” Ok taking on his last name was something you were going to have to talk to him about because you were perfectly happy being Y/N Y/L/N, not this Y/N Stark bullshit.

“You have a kid?” Steve asks, genuine confusion spread across his face.

“I do. I didn’t know until yesterday, but I’m doing the right thing.” You can’t stop the snort that escapes you. Tony looks over at you.

“Sorry,” You say although you don’t mean it. “Can I es- go to my room?”

“‘Yes, you can escape to your room. I’ll show you where it is.”

“I got it boss. I think you have some people that need answers.” Happy offers. You’re silently relieved that Happy offered to show you. If you had to spend another minute with your dad, you might lose your mind. Happy walks you into the kitchen and opens the fridge as you go past it. You look at him, trying to figure out why he’s opening it. “Tony told me you’re diabetic. You have insulin that needs refrigeration right?”

“Oh, yeah I just didn’t know he told you.”

“Head of security. There’s not much he doesn’t tell me.” Happy turns them towards a staircase leading away from where all the Avengers are. “But you know if you need someone to talk to, or grab a cheeseburger with, there’s things he doesn’t have to know about.”

“I don’t eat meat, but I appreciate it, Happy.”

“He’s going to say you’re not his kid if you don’t eat cheeseburgers.” And for the first time since all of this started, you actually let out a laugh.

Tony’s head turns towards the sound of the laugh. It’s unfamiliar, but he wants to hear more of it. He’s missed fourteen years of your life, but he wants to make things better, he does. He’s just not sure how.

“So you found out you have a kid?” Steve asks, his book forgotten now.

“Yeah, yesterday I found out I had a fourteen year old and then it’s been a whole process of finding out that since she’s mine I have custody technically.”

“So you took her away from all she knows?” Natasha's voice comes softly from the couch.

“I guess you could say that.”

“Did you give her a choice?” Natasha asks, harsher this time. In her eyes anyone could see the remainders of another girl that was taken from all she ever knew and replaced with a hard boiled assassin.

“In the eyes of the state she doesn’t really have a choice.”

“So you didn’t give her a choice.”

“She’s got a medical condition that was costing her family thousands a month on top of her grandparents’ conditions. I’m helping!” Tony’s voice raises for the first time this afternoon since he tried to stay calm around his kid.

“You think you’re helping, but you’re taking her from the only life she’s ever known and I’m betting you gave her no choice in this. All you might get out of this is four years with her and then she disappears from your life.” Clint says softly, not trying to upset Tony, but also hearing the points that Natasha was bringing up.

“You’re going to have to work hard to make this worth it to Y/N, Tony.” Steve says before picking up his book.

#peter parker #peter parker x reader #peter parker x stark!reader #stark!reader #tony stark daughter #peter parker fan fiction #peter parker fanfiction #peter parker fan fic #peter parker fanfic #peter parker x you #imanativeofswlondondahling #tony stark x daughter!reader

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ace-in-a-shopping-cart · 4 years

Text

Day 9

Prompt: When you write something on your own skin it appears on your soulmate’s skin as well.

Word Count: 1,896

Main Taglist: (Send an ask to be added or removed!) @starlocked01, @spoopy-turtle, @lizluvscupcakes, @more-fandon-than-friends, @i-cant-find-a-good-username, @vindicatedvirgil, @star-crossed-shipper, @justaqueercactus, @gayboopnoodle, @sanderssidesweirdo, @the-sympathetic-villain, @8-writes Soulmate taglist:(Send an ask to be added or removed!) @elizabutgayer, @melodiread, @tsshipmonth2020, @mikalya12, @8-writes

“It feels like the whole world is closing in. I’m starting to get claustrophobic.” Logan saw the words appear on his leg. Lying in bed in nothing but a pair of gym shorts, most of his skin was covered in black and purple ink. He paused, his black pen hovering over the skin just below the purple.

Finally, he put pen to skin. “That’s understandable. Sometimes, you just need to distance yourself from the world. Put up a barrier and exist behind it, give yourself a mental personal bubble and stick to it. Have things you enjoy set aside in a way that you can interact with them without having to interact with the world.”

The purple gave a dot of acknowledgement. Logan knew Virgil would eventually tired himself out and fall asleep so waited for any indicator. Soon, the ink left a small dot before a trail dropped off the limb, cutting through the previous conversation. Logan chuckled, knowing his soulmate had fallen asleep.

He stood, crossing to the bathroom and sitting on the edge of the tub as he took a washcloth to the pen marks. He smiled, thinking of the many conversations he’d had with Virgil. He’d known his name his whole life, or so it felt. In reality, he’d been five when ink had first shown up on his arm. It was a simple hello from Virgil’s parents to test if his soulmate was older or younger than him. Logan had run up to his mom and she and Mama wrote on his other arm.

After that, he was encouraged to write little notes to his soulmate on his arms, telling him about his day and things he’d learned in school. He was told that Virgil wouldn’t be able to respond for a few years but that didn’t stop him from trying.

He was eleven when he first got a response. It was shakily written, clearly by a child holding a crayon in a fist. He’d been so happy, running to Mama to show her. Mama had encouraged him to write back and he could picture the giggles that arose from his soulmate.

Soon, they were holding full conversations. Those progressed to late night conversations, pens sliding off skin as sleep took over, the hurried scrawls of notes or ideas, getting to know his soulmate by his personality and penmanship, getting to see that penmanship change as he learned how he wrote best, getting to know his mood by his wording and the spacing between letters. He got to know his tastes in food by his grocery lists, his daily activities by to-do lists. He saw when tears or rain obscured important information and made sure to write it higher up so it wasn’t smudged. This was usually accompanied by hearts and stars from Virgil drawn next to them as a way of thanks.

He made sure to do the same, writing grocery and to-do lists on his arms, chuckling when Virgil thought it was his own list and started crossing things off. His favorite thing to do was to play simple table games on his arms, tic tac toe, dots and boxes, sprouts, and others. They both eventually solved little arguments of who won which game by choosing different pen colors.

At one point during a day, it must have been when he was about fifteen or so, he got a note on his arm that Virgil had been diagnosed with ADHD. He’d researched as much about it as he could in the hopes of helping in any way he could. He’d give reminders, encourage Virgil to write task lists on his arm, even if it was ‘I need to make dinner in fifteen minutes’ so Logan could give a reminder at the five minute mark. He noticed when Virgil didn’t respond and would ask if it was a bad sensory day and would use a different pen in case that was triggering his hypersensitivity.

One day, he noticed a building number written on his arm when he woke up. It was a very familiar building number as it was his place of work. He smiled as he adjusted his tie, going into work with a spring in his step. When he got to the break room, he thought he’d ask around. “Does anyone have a Virgil for an appointment?”

He got a few smirks from coworkers but some others gave him genuine smiles. “Is it your soulmate?” Someone asked, clear teasing in her voice.

Logan nodded, a smile creeping across his face. He twisted his arm, letting the rest of them see the note with the building address. “I woke up to this and assumed. So, does anyone have an appointment with him?”

Patton raised his hand with a giggle. “I do! It’s a one o'clock appointment. I’m pretty sure you’ve got a one-thirty appointment. I’m willing to swap with you.”

Logan nodded as he poured creamer into his coffee. “That would be fine, thank you.”

He went back to his office and completed paperwork, dealing with the few clients he had in the morning. He went out and grabbed a quick lunch during his noon break before sitting in his office, trying not to stand every five minutes to look for Virgil.

Finally, the clock struck one and his head swiveled to the door. His secretary knocked on it and he called for him to come in. Roman peeked his head in. “I have a Virgil Storm that Patton said is for you?”

“Yes! Send him in, please.” He tried to keep his excitement to a minimum but after falling for his soulmate twelve years ago, he was excited to see him for the first time. He stood as his soulmate entered, a shy looking young man in a purple and black hoodie with ripped black jeans.

“Virgil Storm, welcome.” He reached over the desk for a handshake, the address clear on his arm.

Virgil raised his head, eyes locking onto the purple writing that matched the pen he usually used. He shifted his gaze to Logan’s eyes. “Logan?” His voice was hesitant, as if he were already regretting the decision to ask.

Logan nodded, his attempts to contain his smile succeeding for the most part. “That’s right, soulmate.”

Virgil smiled, dropping his hood as he sat in the chair on the opposite side of the desk. Logan sat as his soulmate looked around the room. Logan couldn’t take his eyes off the man, his hair tousled from the hood, his shoulders looking more relaxed than when he came in, he looked nice. Finally, he turned back to face Logan. “So, law office, huh?” He smirked.

Logan nodded, folding his hands on his desk. “Yes. I find the work . . . fulfilling.” He reached for the documents Patton had provided for him earlier. “So, what caused you to need a lawyer?”

Virgil seemed to draw in on himself. “Well, I want to get custody of my younger brother from my parents.”

Logan nodded, making a note on a clean sheet of paper. “Okay, and do you have any reasons to know that they are unfit parents? Any reasons to believe that you would be a better guardian?” He looked up, an apology in his eyes. “I’m sorry, dearest, you must understand that these are standard questions.”

Virgil squirmed slightly in his seat. “Dearest?”

Logan nodded, avoiding eye contact. “I have no excuse for that one.”

Virgil’s hand came across the desk to rest on Logan’s. “I wouldn’t expect an excuse. I guess I just didn’t expect an exclamation of love so soon after meeting. Then again, we met when I was born, didn’t we?”

Logan looked up at him and saw a look that his own face must have mirrored. “That’s right. I’ve known you all my life and couldn’t imagine loving anyone else.” After a period of silence, he cleared his throat and straightened the papers. “We should get back on track.”

Virgil nodded, settling back in his chair. “Right. Uhh, they are abusive to him. I’d never been abused by them but when Remus came knocking at my door with some large bruises on his wrists, I knew I had to do something.”

Logan nodded. “Okay, are you aware of a moment of instigation of the abuse? You mention not being abused yourself so I’m wondering if there is a specific thing about your brother that your parents saw but didn’t like.”

“He’s transgender. That’s the only thing I can think of that they don’t like about him. I mean, I’m pretty alternative and emo myself so I can’t imagine them snapping over something as simple as a teenager who plays music too loud or watches too many horror movies.”

Logan jotted a note down. “Okay, can we circle back around to my question of how you could make a better guardian? This is a simple argument we can use in court against your parents.”

“I have a stable income that is capable of providing for two people, he’s already been living at my place for a few weeks at the moment, and . . . I’ve contacted my soulmate.” Logan looked up from his notes just in time to see Virgil wink at him.

“Flirt,” he muttered as he went back to his notes.

Virgil leaned forward, his face confident. “I’m sorry, what was that?”

Logan shook his head. “Nothing.” Looking back over his notes, he underlined certain things before looking back up at Virgil. “Okay, I think I’ll need to talk to Remus for a little bit but other than that, I think we might have a strong case. I will have to ask that you are not in the room while I talk to him but you can wait directly outside. The only reason for this is so I know he’s speaking of his own free will and isn’t allowing you to speak for him, which is something your parents might try to hold against us.”

Virgil nodded. “May I ask why you need to speak to him?”

“It’s to make sure that he understands what’s happening and is okay with you taking custody. I also have to ask him some cursory questions to know the extent of the abuse. I might also have to have some pictures taken of bruises as evidence for court.”

Virgil nodded, making a note on his arm. Logan smiled. Once that was done, Virgil leaned forward. “Are there any rules against dating your lawyer?”

Logan smiled along with him. “None that I can recall. Why, are you thinking about it?”

Virgil smirked. “Only if he’s willing to date me back.” Logan nodded, leaning forward in a silent invitation for a kiss, which Virgil accepted.

The case took a few months and was hard fought, but Virgil eventually got custody of Remus. He and Logan continued to date until Virgil and Remus moved in with Logan. The lawyer was the one to propose, much to his coworkers’ enjoyment. The wedding was a simple one but they were happy in their life. Logan asked Remus if he would prefer to be under only Virgil’s custody or if he wanted Logan to have joint custody and, when told Remus preferred the second option, quickly petitioned for joint custody, which was easily obtained. Their life was a busy one but it was happy, and it was theirs.

#tsshipmonth2020 #virgil sanders #logan sanders #remus sanders #transphobia mentioned #tw: abuse mentioned #analogical #adhd!virgil #ace writes

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samwritesforyou · 4 years

Text

Booked

Diego x reader (the whole family is present at the beginning but as time goes on becomes more Diego-centric)

Summary: You have a summer house that is far away from any big cities, you’ve inherited it from your great-great-parents and you want to prove to your friends that you cannot possibly make an income out of it. So you submit the house at booking dot com for the lowest price possible. Your plan was working for years and you’ve been happy and content just by growing your own food and participating in the village’s community, completely forgetting about the offer you presented on booking. Until one day, seven siblings arrive at your place, saying they reserved themselves the whole house for the eternity of summer.

Warnings: gender-neutral reader, swear words (? but just a couple, mainly from Five)

Wordcount: 3.7k

A/N: settling is post s2, so everyone looks accordingly. umbrella academy gets back into the timeline where no umbrella nor the sparrow academy exists, yet the world is still ending. mostly written out of nostalgia for my own summer house that my family sold years ago and i will never come back there, so i want it to live on at least somewhere

Summers were always hot in this little village that you lived in, especially with the climate change looming over humanity’s ignorant heads.

So you were actually relieved that you finally persuaded a local technician to help you fix the fridge that stopped freezing its insides for good two weeks already.

You just handed her the cash and waved her goodbye, also giving the lady a basket with apples and peaches that grew in your garden. You don’t have enough people eating your fruits and most of it goes into jams anyways.

You waited a little until her car disappeared into the horizon of the bumpy road near your house, seeing as it even got blurry in the end, as the air was literally melting the reality in front of your eyes.

With a swift movement you adjusted a cap on your head, went out of the creaky gate - which green color was peeling off into the original black metal that it was made with - and closed it behind yourself with a happy hum.

It was a twenty minutes walk to the nearest convenience store and it gave you just enough time to ponder about the recent weird thing that happened to you.

About three days ago you just got a random payment come to your bank account.

15 Euros. That was it.

No note, no name.

You decided to let it be, even though it did stir your mind in various ways.

Normally, when something like this happens, the bank realises the mistake in the recipient and takes the money back within 24 hours.

Either the person who sent it didn’t care that it went to the wrong place or bank decided to be generous with you.

Whatever the reason was, those 15 Euros could be used now to buy yourself a little more sweets than you usually do.

You never had to complain about how little money you actually have from living here and being more or less self-sufficient, but some random extra cash will make anyone smile in this capitalistic hell that you tried so hard to escape from.

After you came home you started sorting out groceries that you’ve bought, putting them into the right places.

Upon finishing you just plopped yourself on the bench near the big abandoned table in the room, looking around.

This house used to be alive. With a lot of your family members running around, making noise, sometimes fighting, but always generally just enjoying the good time at this place.

At the end of the extended room was a window, showing you the rest of the garden that you lovingly cared for every single day.

Under the window was a spacious kitchen counter, with a fridge and shelves for ingredients next to it. Then there was the entrance to one of the unused bedrooms with one bed pushed against the wall, which in turn was covered by a red hanging carpet. On a wall, yes.

You stopped tracing the room around with your eyes as you heard some rummaging coming from the outside.

After easily springing to your feet you saw black dots in front of you and your head was spinning. Damn you, iron deficiency!

A few seconds passed and you were collected again, rushing out towards the gates to the property.

You stopped in your tracks as you saw five people literally barging through your piece of land with suitcases and bags, bickering with each other.

Oh, nope. They were six, actually. A very tiny figure closed the gate after all of them made it in and started clumsily going forward on a tiny tartan road that lead all the way to the summer house.

“Klaus, stop fucking pushing around and help me with the bags, maybe?” said a man with longer curly hair and a goatee, clearly agitated at another person, who wasn’t holding anything except some bottle in their hand.

“Oh cut it, you two! We’re almost in the house, come on,” said a woman with straight black hair in the flowery dress and then she noticed that someone blocks their way.

Her eyes landed on you.

“Um... hello?” she said with an awkward smile, attempting a wave in your direction and continued, “are you the owner? We booked your house until the rest of the summer like.. a few days ago.”

Your eyes widened and your mouth hung open in the “o” shape, trying to grasp the reality.

So.... someone really booked your summer house after several years of no traction from booking and you had no clue.

That’s what the payment was for!

But..

“Oh,” you said, not knowing how to proceed about the situation, “well, you see.. um... I have nowhere to stay? This is my only home,” you started timidly, rubbing your hands together.

“Oh,” the woman seemed surprised and confused but quickly collected herself, “well, if you have enough beds to keep us all in then it’s no problem, I guess?”

“Yeah? Alright, great!” You smiled at the whole “squad” and looked at them all.

“Uhm.. my name is y/n! Welcome to my summer house, I guess,” you put your hands into the back pockets and shook your head a little into the direction of the house.

“Allison, nice to meet you,” the woman you talked to said, smiling invitingly.

“Diego,” almost spat the guy with the goatee.

“Klaus, darling,” said the person with the bottle in their hand, widening his arms in an invisible hug.

“Luther,” mumbled a big man in the back of them all.. he looked like he’s been through something.

Actually, they all do.

“Vanya,” chirped a girl behind the big- Luther, the corners of her lips lifting ever so lightly.

“Five,” said a child in the front, looking unusually angry, suddenly shortening the distance between the two of you, “as long as you’re out of our business you’re good to stay,” he literally sneered at you, pushing past you and going inside.

That left you kinda shook, but then Allison just apologised for “their brother”, so you decided to ask another question:

“So you’re all a family?”

“Yes, we’re all siblings. Adopted,” she said, actually following you inside, not as the little guy before who let himself in without even knowing the place.

“I think my place is not the best for so many people to sleep at though..” you said quietly, biting your lip.

“That’s why it was so cheap..” Luther wondered, looking around.

You had to calm yourself so you didn’t snap at your guest. You didn’t even know anyone would ever book your house, damn! What were you supposed to do?

In the end you spent some time showing them the rooms, starting with the first one that contained an old-fashioned sink and the water tank near it, which you needed to manually fill up with water, and the drain led to the bucket under it.

Very simple.

In the back of the room there was a dining table, on one side surrounded by the bench and the other with some mismatching chairs.

From this space you proceeded into the extended “hallway” that you stared at before your peace and quiet was ruined.

There was also an ancient literal furnace, on top of which you could actually lay on, you know, as in all the fairytales.

After that, there was another room entrance that contained two beds on each side (one of them pushed under the window), similar to the other room and a coffee table in the middle of the area.

When you all went back to the first place, there was a wooden staircase that led to the second floor.

There were two rooms. One had a king sized bed in the middle of the space, with a closet and various tables around the whole area.

The other one had a working table and a bed in the corner.

“And that is the end of the tour!” you proclaimed, as everyone got seated by the big table in the extended room, while you were making everyone tea and preparing some snacks.

“Great, I sleep on the furnace!” Klaus exclaimed, putting his hands in the air animatedly.

“I guess we can fit all of us in here, actually,” Allison was clearly thinking aloud, counting the members of the family and available sleeping places.

“You’re gonna take one of the beds, right?” she said, pointing at you.

“Uh.. yes! Upstairs, I think. The one with the small bed and a table,” you smiled at her and she nodded.

“Then I’ll be sleeping with Vanya in the king-sized bed and you guys can fight for who’s going to end up sharing the room,” Allison concluded, clearly enjoying herself.

“Funny of you to think I’ll have enough time to sleep, in our situation,” said Five, suddenly coming out from the doorframe into the room.

You didn’t even mention that he wasn’t there when you were explaining the plan of the house.

“What situation? There should always be time to sleep,” you chipped in, carefully smiling at the boy.

“Stay the fuck out of our business, I said,” he gritted through his teeth at you, which left you blinking in surprise as he went away again, out of sight.

“How... old is he again?” you asked with the confusion that a kid would be so rude to a stranger like this.

All of them kind of nervously laughed or mumbled something that you couldn’t understand.

“It’s complicated,” said Vanya, smiling at you reassuringly.

How the fuck an age of your own brother is complicated?..

You heard the fancy-looking woman - Allison - sigh heavily and turn to you, shrugging.

“It’s just.. when our parents adopted him, he freshly got into the orphanage so he didn’t even have any documents about his birthday, blood type or anything. Apparently, he was really abused by his biological parents. Or whoever else, we don’t even know.”

“Oh.. I’m sorry,” you apologised quickly, biting your lip. Didn’t expect to poke into any painful subjects.

“It’s okay, really, we’ve learned how to take proper care of him,” Allison said, putting her hand on your back with a smile.

When you excused yourself to continue with gardening and went outside, Allison just shook her head.

“Who says ‘it’s complicated’ when someone asks you about their sibling’s age, Vanya?” said Allison in disbelief.

“I’m sorry, I thought it would settle the matter..” she muttered, playing with her fingers anxiously.

“It’s okay..” she smiled at her sister and then looked around the whole table, “look we’re here for the whole summer, so I think it would be better if we somehow told the owner at least partially about our powers so we’re not hiding all the time. We came here to have a safe space where we could train after all, am I right?” she looked expectantly at Luther who immediately started nodding along, agreeing.

“Or maybe,” started saying Klaus, already getting up from his seat and trying to crawl onto the furnace, skinny legs already dangling in the air, “we can just tell them we’re the umbrella academy, don’t you think?” he concluded, facing a wall with his face.

“But we checked that the umbrella academy doesn’t exist in this universe.. nor any other replacement of us,” reminded her siblings Vanya, fingers still intertwined on the table, firmly put together.

“I’m sure we’ll tell them one way or another,” said Diego, getting up just like his brother, making his way a bit further though, his objective clearly being the fridge.

He opened it and smirked at the beer present there, taking one can with him. His eyes then wondered to the window at the end of the room and he stepped closer, inspecting what is outside.

Apparently it was still their new home’s property, as he saw y/n working in the garden, repotting some plants under the tree.

His gaze stayed on them as he thought about various topics in his head, but then he decided to go out of the house, jumping down the wooden stairs leading to the tartan road, framing the whole garden.

You heard steps behind you, turning your head away from the the plants, only to meet a tall man in front of you, with a can in his hand.

“Hey, uhm..” he nervously put his hand on his neck, scratching it, “I just wanted to ask if it’s cool if I take some beer from the fridge?” he lifted the other hand with the mentioned item, giving it a little shake.

“It’s cool,” you replied, smiling softly at him, and then getting back to work, grabbing the plant by the root, moving it to another hole in the ground.

“Okay..” he retorted, biting his lower lip and scanned the area with his dark eyes.

There was an abandoned greenhouse with broken walls, greenery growing all around it, just next to the fence of the property. To its left was a wooden toilet booth with a typical round-shaped hole in the higher part of the door.

“I’m really sorry, by the way,” you started talking again, now finally done with your objective of the day, now plopping yourself next to Diego on the bench that he was chilling at, the surface creaking from the added weight, “I really thought nobody would *ever* rent this place,” you shrugged with a smile, now looking in front of yourself, closing your eyes and letting sunshine illuminate your face.

“Well.. uh.. then why did you put up on that website anyways?” he asked, clear confusion in his voice.

You sighed, shifting your body a little, getting into more comfortable sitting position, “It was a bet I made with my friends back in the day. A few years ago they told me I could actually rent this place and get income from it, not having to work a day in my life! Yet i told them that it’s not possible, and I wanted to prove that I was right by putting the advertisement,” you finished, finally opening your eyes, tilting your head at your new acquaintance.

You caught him staring at you, so he quickly turned away, now getting quite a violent sip out of the beer can.

“You should’ve put some timing on that bet then.. Let’s say, if it doesn’t get traction after two years you’ll finally delete the posting,” he said, after gulping some liquid.

That made you laugh and you couldn’t look away from him. His features were so.. delicate.

“Yeah, you’re actually right!” you admitted, slapping your thighs in excitement.

“Diego, my precious brother!” you two suddenly heard from the entrance to the house.

You lifted your eyes and saw a slender confide getting closer to you both, the man walking barefoot.

“Five said we’re all needed for a ‘family meeting’,” the guy literally put an air quotes with his free hand that wasn’t holding a glass, saying it in the mockingly serious tone, “so you better come with me and stop bothering this lovely person, alright?” he then proceeded sweetly, extending a hand towards Diego with a wide smile.

“God.. alright,” he answered and to your surprise took his hand, now brothers going away into the house, Diego briefly looking back at you, “Let’s talk later.”

You just nodded, finding yourself still smiling long before they were gone.

What is this funny feeling in the pit of your stomach?..

And why is one of their family members called by a number instead of a name?!

It was only the second day of your coexistence with the Hargreeves but it was already a wild ride.

Normally your morning looked like this;

You would wake up at a reasonable hour, maybe like.. 9am. You would go down the stairs from your room and make yourself some breakfast. While eating you’d either read a book or just listen to some music from your phone.

Then you’d do daily tasks, so taking care of the garden or some house maintenance, or both.

Then you’d do everything special that needs to be done only once in a while: a meeting with a friend, grocery shopping, attending a meeting with your neighbours where you decide on further upgrades of the village.

Then you’d draw some commissions, if there were any and after all of this you’d have late lunch that normally turned into dinner, concluding your day with doing your hobbies or rarely taking out your laptop and browsing the internet.

“Rise and shiiine!” you heard somewhere from downstairs, for some reason that person was also ringing a bell, making you immediately sit up in your bed.

You turned your head towards the mirror that hung across your sleeping space on the wall and you could see your hair standing up in different directions, cowlick upon cowlick.

You also felt tired, kind of not used to that feeling and shifted your half-closed eyes to the alarm clock near you.

It was... a bit past 7am. Who are those people to wake up that early?!

You lazily got up from the bed, yawning and stretching your arms up, feeling a few cracks here and there.

“Good morning!” first half of the sentence was muffled by the closed door to your room, but that quickly changed as it burst open, Klaus marching right in, his voice now uncomfortably loud for your sleepy ears, “I thought it would be nice to have breakfast all together and make you feel a part of the family, wouldn’t it?” he said with a genuine smile, looking at you.

You were sitting on your bed in pyjamas, hair all over the place, most unamused expression on the face, eyes half opened.

“Not a morning person?” he mused, tilting his head at you, “well, feel free to join or sleep more, I wouldn’t judge,” he continued and you saw in literal slow motion as he lifted his hand with a bell in hand, shaking it hard as he marched out of your room just in the same manner as he came in just seconds ago.

“BREAKFAST!!” he yelled with at least two octaves lower at his siblings, still ringing the bell that now was resonating in your brain in a highest pitch possible, making your head hurt.

Great morning.

But despite the general morning grumpiness you did find it endearing that Klaus decided to include you in their activities, making you feel less alone and - quite funnily - welcomed in your own house.

You slowly went down the stairs, hearing the lower floor full of different voices and it made your heart clench. You immediately thought of your family that made it feel alive like this in the past and a warm smile appeared on your face, as the Hargreeves huddled up around the smaller table in the room you descended from the stairs into, all making your appearance feel natural.

“Good morning,” you passed Luther that nodded in your direction alongside the phrase, as you went into the bigger room, seeing Allison cooking by the stove, window open.

“Oh hey, you’re up,” she said with a smile, “can you pass me some milk?” she asked, extending her hand into the air, already expecting said item.

“Sure!!” you hurriedly opened the fridge, giving her the thing she requested and she continued cooking.

You slowly looked around, seeing a blanket and some different things like cigarette boxes and teddy bears on top of the furnace, which made you realise that someone from the family has clearly claimed it to be their place for sleeping and you found it adorable.

“You can go sit with the others, I’ll bring it all in when it’s ready, Allison said, adjusting her black hair so it didn’t get in the way of preparing food.

“Oh.. okay!” you chirped, with a smile going back to the first room, and finding an empty seat between Diego and Klaus.

You almost sat already when Klaus sprang to his feet and took you by the shoulders, making you freeze on the spot, eyes wide.

“Klaus?” you asked, confused, “is that seat taken?”

“By Allison,” Diego quickly responded before his brother had any chance to and then the skinny man sat back on his chair, nodding with an awkward smile on his face.

“Yes, exactly. Sorry y/n,” he sighed and shrugged, clearly playing along Diego’s words, but you just let it go.

Instead you sat next to Luther, whom already opened his mouth but Vanya looked at him with a forced smile, raising a brow. At that, the big guy closed his mouth again, without making a sound.

Something.. is weird here. You shifted a bit in your seat, biting your lower lip.

The kid wasn’t here at all, you just noticed.

Then finally Allison came with the food and your anxiety lessened, as everyone started cheering for wonderful pancakes that she made.

She already wanted to sit on the seat that the guys told you was reserved for her, when suddenly Klaus did the same to her as he did to you.

“Klaus,” Diego hissed in a low voice.

Allison just looked at her brother, expression just as confused as yours was.

“What?” Allison deadpanned, putting a hand to her hip.

There was a brief second of silence until Klaus just burst into an emotional speech.

“Look, I know we’re all pretending that we’re normal in front of y/n but you all know that Ben always sits next to me and he’s sitting here right now, yet you all wanna make it seem like he doesn’t exist? I’m sorry that he’s a ghost, I’m sure he didn’t want to die either!” then after a moment he added, “Right, brother dear?” looking at an empty space near him.

Your brain clearly wasn’t catching up to what was just being said.

Pretending to be normal?..

“Great. Just fucking great, Klaus. I bet Ben would move, understanding the situation!” Allison waved her hands at him and the chair next to him with an annoyed voice.

“We just blew our cover, guys,” said Diego with pursed lips, looking absentmindedly at the table filled with food.

Soon enough they all started arguing and only when there was a sudden blue light in the room, and the kid appeared literally out of the thin air in front of your eyes, everyone fell silent, looking at him.

“Guys, I just did a search around the neighbourhood and—“ his blue eyes met with yours, full of shock and denial of what you just saw, “shit.”

He clicked his tongue and frowned and that was positively the last thing you remember before losing consciousness, everything around you turning black.

Too much of supernatural for one morning, that’s for sure.

Precious taglist: @radcloudenthusiast, @spacenerdpascal

NEXT PART→

#diego x reader #diego hargreeves x reader #tua diego #diego reader insert #the umbrella academy #tua fanfic #umbrella academy x reader #diego hargreeves #number two #number two x reader

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snowdice · 4 years

Text

Road Trips and Missing Persons (Part 1)

Fandom: Sanders Sides

Relationships: Patton & Virgil (more to be added)

Characters: Patton, Virgil (more to be added: probably everyone)

Summary: Patton was just getting groceries. The next thing he knew, there was a knife at his throat and he was an unwilling uber driver. Virgil’s on the run after the murder of his dad, and it’s not just his paranoia that’s telling him he’s being chased down. He has to get somewhere safe, somewhere he can trust, and all he has is a couple of stories from his dad and a name: “Green Bellow Foods and Dispensary.”

Notes: Secret Agents AU, knives, carjacking, kidnapping (more to be added)

This is a fic I’ve been writing on study breaks that you have probably all already seen at this point. I’ve affectionately named it the Goblin Brain Fic because it’s helping my brain actually get motivated for studying. I’ve slightly edited it for wording and grammar, but not for content from my previous posts. Feel free to send in asks to direct it because I’m not 100% sure where this is going and you can help decide if you feel so inclined!

Patton had just been getting himself groceries. He was planning on making homemade macaroni and cheese for himself this weekend and went around the store grabbing all kinds of different cheeses (some which he did not recognize the names of and might not actually make good Macaroni and Cheese, but how could he resist the cute little goats on it) and little mini shell pasta. He also picked up some heavy cream and then headed to the cash registers with his spoils.

He’d been a bit distracted with his plans for cooking when he’d gotten into his car to drive home and hadn’t been paying as much attention as he probably should have.

The next thing he knew, there was a knife at his throat. He paused. “Hi?” he said tentatively.

“Put your keys into the ignition and drive,” a dark voice said into his ear.

Patton took a deep breath. “Sure,” he said, reaching forward to slowly do as the man asked. “Any particular direction we’re going in?”

“Fucking, I don’t know. Just drive,” he said. “I’ll decide later.”

“Alright,” Patton agreed and put the car into reverse. “Can I turn my head to make sure I’m not backing into anything?” he asked.

The knife retreated a bit in answer. Patton turned his head slowly and looked back while letting his foot off the break and quickly scanned his new friend out of the corner of his eye. There wasn’t much to be seen. He had a dark hoodie covering most of his frame, but a few tuffs of dark hair stuck out of it, framing a pale face with a streak of blood down his cheek and a purpling bruise near his eye.

Patton didn’t indicate that he’d seen any of this, instead choosing to turn back to face front and drive out of the grocery store parking lot.

The knife returned after that, though it didn’t touch him this time. It just hovered. Patton chose to drive towards the interstate, careful to keep his hands on the steering wheel and make no sudden movements.

“Why are you getting on the interstate?” the man behind him asked. There was caution in his tone, but he didn’t seem too suspicious of the move.

“You wanted me to drive and I don’t know where or how long. There’s a lot more driving to do out here than in town,” Patton explained. “Is that okay?”

“I…” he responded. “Yeah, sure.”

So, Patton continued to drive.

Eventually the knife started to retreat a bit, though it was still there. About 30 minutes into the ride, Patton decided it was okay to speak. “Would you like to come sit in the passenger seat?” he asked softly. “You can lean the knife across the console at my side. It’d probably be a bit more comfortable.”

The knife returned to Patton’s neck. “No,” he said firmly.

“Okay,” Patton agreed calmly.

Yet, despite his initial reaction, it was less than 5 minutes later that the knife dropped a bit again. “… I’m moving to the front seat,” he grumbled. Patton suppressed a smile.

There was shifting around in the back and then a body threw itself up into the passenger seat. He scrambled into a sitting position and rushed to point the knife back at Patton. Patton just kept driving. After a few minutes he relaxed a bit again.

Patton bit back the words ‘Put your seatbelt on,’ and instead said. “Figured out where we’re going yet?”

“Uh…” he replied. “Do you know any places associated with Green Bellow Foods?”

Hmmm... “There’s an abandoned factory near Livington. Would that work?”

“Yeah,” he nodded. “Let’s go there.”

“Okay, but fair warning, it is about a 3-hour drive from here.”

“Great,” he hissed.

Patton glanced over at him. He was still just a blob of black fabric for the most part as the hoodie still covered most of his body, but when he looked over at Patton, he revealed a bit more of his face. Patton was surprised by how young it looked. He looked like a teenager, likely not even a legal adult. “Since we’re going to be driving for a while,” Patton broached after a few more minutes to let him settle in the front seat. “Can we get something to eat? I have a lot of cheese in the back, but I’m lactose intolerant so that’s probably not a good idea for a closed car.”

“You…” the boy started. “If your lactose intolerant why do you have an entire bag full of just cheese?”

“And heavy cream and shell pasta! I was going to make mac and cheese when I got home!”

“That doesn’t answer the question.” Patton noticed that the knife had drifted away from him as they spoke.

“I like cheese,” Patton said with a shrug. “Anyway, I can go through a drive through,” he tempted.

“I…” Patton saw him bite his lip nervously out of the corner of his eye. “Fine, sure. I guess. Just… just you’re going to have to use cash so no one can track your credit card.”

“Okay then,” Patton agreed with a small smile in his direction. “We’ll get off at the next exit!”

“Uh, yeah, okay,” he said. “Er… Don’t… try any funny business?”

Oh goodness. He was a baby. “Of course not.”

Signs for the next exist started popping up a few minutes later. They passed a blue sign with a couple of restaurant emblems on it.

“Looks like your options are Wendy’s, Chick-fil-A, Hardees, or Freddy’s. What’re you thinking?”

“Uh I don’t know? I don’t care.”

“You have to have some preference,” Patton said. “Go ahead and pick.”

He hesitated. “Maybe Freddy’s? I don’t think I’ve tried that before.”

“Sounds good!” Patton chirped. He pulled off at the exit into a medium sized town. The exit dumped them straight onto the town’s main street and Patton could see the sign for Freddy’s a bit down the road. “So…” Patton fished while they were stuck at a red light. “Why Green Bellow Foods?”

“No reason! Why do you care?” he asked, suddenly intense and defensive.

“Woah,” Patton placated. “I’m just curious. I’m the one driving you over three hours to get there after all. I just wondered why.”

“Right,” the boy said, curling in a bit on himself. After a moment he mumbled. “My dad knew the owner.”

Did he now? Patton thought. He didn’t comment on the use of the word “knew.” The light turned green and Patton glanced over at him. “How old are you?” he asked.

“You don’t need to know.”

Patton hummed as the light turned green. “What if I guess and you tell me if I’m right?” He didn’t respond, instead crossing his arms over his chest defensively. “Let’s see,” Patton said anyway, glancing over at him. “Twelve?”

“What?! No! I’m 15!” Then he paused. “Hey!”

“Fifteen, huh?” Patton asked. “Is that why you didn’t just steal a car? You don’t know how to drive?” His new friend gave him a wounded look that edged on a pout. “What do you want to eat?” Patton asked.

He bit his lip. “What type of food is there?”

“Mostly burgers and fries, but also chicken sandwiches and hot dogs. And ice cream! Well frozen custard, but ice cream!”

“Er… just order me a cheeseburger and fries.”

“And ice cream!”

“I don’t need ice cream,” he mumbled.

“Well, I’m getting ice cream.”

“Do whatever you want,” he grumbled.

Patton narrowed his eyes at him. The kid wanted, no he needed ice cream, Patton decided.

Patton pulled into Freddy’s drive through and ordered two burgers with fries and drinks and a Dirt ‘N Worms concrete. Patton reached for his wallet and the boy startled, but he didn’t instinctually reach for the knife, Patton noted.

“Just getting my wallet,” Patton soothed, continuing to move slowly to take it out. He flipped open his wallet and took out a $20 bill. The boy relaxed again.

Patton greeted the drive-through worker with a cheery “hello” and exchanged the money for their food before thanking the employee and driving off. He pulled into a parking space in the Freddy’s parking lot.

“Do you mind if we eat real quick before hitting the road?”

He hesitated. “No funny business?”

“No funny business,” Patton swore.

“Then, fine.”

Patton put the car into park, and they started to eat their food. “So, what’s your name?” He got a suspicious look in return. “My name’s Patton,” he offered. “You can just tell me a nickname.”

“…You can call me Anxiety.”

Patton frowned a bit at the name but accepted it for the moment. He balled up the burger wrapper and stuck it in the bag. ‘Anxiety’ who had been just holding his awkwardly, followed his lead.

“Now for dessert!” Patton enthused and then made a show of freezing. “Wait. I forgot. I’m lactose intolerant.”

“How do you forget-?”

“And I forgot my lactaid pill. Guess you’ll have to eat it while I drive.”

‘Anxiety’ glared at him but took the ice cream. If Patton caught him smiling just a bit as Patton started to drive again, he didn’t mention it.

Want to read more? Click below!

AO3 Part 2 My Master Post (since it won’t show up on mobile. AHH.)

#sanders sides #patton sanders #virgil sanders #platonic moxiety #knives #kidnapping #carjacking #study break stories #adriana writes #road trips and missing persons

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bechloebeale · 4 years

Text

I’m in the corner, watching you kiss her (1/1)

Rating: Teen and Up Audiences

Pairing: Bechloe

Words: 6.6K

Summary: Beca is quietly in love with her best friend/roommate. They go out for drinks after a long week of work. What could possibly go wrong?

Notes: Title from and fic inspired by Calum Scott's cover of Dancing On My Own. Set in the 'PP3 doesn't exist but bechloe still live together in the Brooklyn apartment' universe. I apologize if it's a little rusty, this is my first fic in years.

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Beca lets out an exaggerated sigh as she kicks the door shut with her foot, immediately dropping her bag close by and flopping down onto the poorly made fold out couch that her and Chloe share in the small Brooklyn apartment.

Thank god it’s Friday, she thinks when pulling her phone out of the back pocket of her skinny jeans and rolling herself onto her back. 4:45 pm. Chloe will be home in half an hour, depending on how quickly she gets out of work to manage to catch the 5:05 train. Not that Beca memorized Chloe’s schedule and always waits for the older girl to arrive home... Not at all.

She sits herself up with another slightly dramatic sigh. She shouldn’t be this exhausted from work, mentally and physically. She enjoys her job, most of the time. She should be happy that she’s living her dream, producing music and doing what she loves while also getting paid. But, the number of imbeciles she has to deal with on a weekly basis often makes her wonder why she ever wanted to do this in the first place.

All she really looks forward after a long day of work is coming home to her best friend every night and cuddling up on their bed with snacks and her laptop, to watch whatever tv show or movie Chloe decided they have to see. Yeah, Chloe may have broken down a couple of Beca’s walls with her overly affectionate personality, she was also really hard to say no to. Especially since Beca has had feelings for the other girl for as long as she can remember, though she refused to admit it to herself for a while. It is easier to deal with now, the whole pining over your best friend/roommate wasn’t the hardest thing ever. She would never risk her friendship with Chloe because of some silly feelings, feelings that may have slowly turned into realizing she was in love with her. Who wouldn’t be totally head over heels for that girl? If her looks aren’t already enough; bright, gorgeous, bluer than the sky eyes that are full of hope and happiness, her smile that never fails to make Beca’s heart beat a little faster every time and let’s not even get started on her adorable giggle. It’s her gentle, dorky and bubbly personality that could light up a dark room. Her determination and passion, her love for the Bellas, her ability to see and appreciate the good in even the smallest things in life.

There are too many reasons to count why Chloe Beale is one of the most genuine and beautiful people Beca has ever had the pleasure of knowing… Actually, she is the most genuine and beautiful person Beca has ever known.

So, aside from the underlying feelings for her best friend that she neatly hides under a rug, Beca loves living with her. She is tidy, she gives Beca space to go into her anti-social bubble whenever needed, she makes her coffee every morning because Beca still hasn’t figured out how to use the stupid coffee machine even after having it for over a year. The two both genuinely enjoy each other’s company; they go grocery shopping together, they occasionally go out to lunch or dinner on weekends together when they aren’t extremely broke from paying monthly rent, they listen to music and dance stupidly around the tiny apartment. They work really well as a team.

Usually, Beca forgets Amy also lives there too. She’s never really around that much anyway and when she is, it is just to grab a few things, make sly comments here and there about how married Beca and Chloe act before heading off again. Often but not always, coming home in the early hours of the morning– from her weekly boy toy’s house, or from the nightclub.

Beca eventually sits up from her position of laying defeated on the bed and shuffles back to lean against the pillows, resting her phone in her lap. Starting to scroll through the Netflix app to see if anything sparks her eye to suggest to Chloe that they watch for the night, although nothing ever really does and the older of the two always ends up picking something.

She’s only halfway through the ‘Popular on Netflix’ section when the door flings open and Chloe bounces through. “Hey!” she says with a cheerful grin, walking to place her handbag down on the coffee table. “How was your day?” she asks, turning to face the smaller girl after removing her jacket and hanging it up on the back of the door.

“Exhausting,” Beca groans, dropping her phone to lay beside her, “very glad it’s Friday,” running a hand through her hair lazily and continuing, “what about you? Save some more innocent little creatures to live another eventful day in the city of Brooklyn?” she says with a slight smirk.

Chloe lets out a soft giggle as she kicks off her shoes, sitting down on the edge of the bed, “Not today, but I did get to meet this really cute puppy who needed his first vaccinations,” she beams with sparking eyes and a smile before shrugging lightly, “so, I’d say it was a pretty good day.”

“Ah-ha, nothing like a tiny puppy to end the week off,” Beca says with a soft laugh, “wish I had your job sometimes, but then I remember the story of the cow and that thought goes away pretty quickly...”

“Don’t remind me!” Chloe scrunches her nose, shaking her head with another giggle. “Why don’t we do something tonight, you know, to get your mind off of work,” she tilts her head towards the brunette with an empathetic smile.

Beca raises an eyebrow curiously, “Depends on what you have in mind… I was pretty ready to just lay here for the rest of the night and do absolutely nothing.” – And maybe, cuddle just a little… she thinks to herself, refraining from saying it a loud. Chloe doesn’t have to know how much Beca actually does enjoy their cozy cuddling and patiently waits almost every night for the other girl to climb into the bed after her shower, smelling purely of strawberries & cream from her shampoo.

“I mean, that is always fun, and I did find another interesting tv show for us to watch… But, why don’t we go out for some drinks?” Chloe shrugs a shoulder, “Let off some steam, dance it out… Get those delicious, unhealthy but awes burritos afterwards from that place you love down the street…” her lips turning into a small smirk.

Beca hums softly, “I do love those burritos,” pausing for a moment, chewing her bottom lip as she thought about the proposition, “but I don’t know about having to deal with more dicks than I already do at work… With them also being drunk and wild, doesn’t sound like the best way I want to spend my Friday night.”

Chloe pursed her lips with a small understanding nod. “Oh!” –she spins on the bed excitedly to properly face Beca, crossing her legs with a small bounce– “we could go to that groovy place Amy took us once, with the neon signs and yummy cocktails! It’s never usually that busy, that’s why Amy didn’t want to stay there long… Plus, it has that local DJ that you like playing there on Friday nights,” she says with a grin.

“Damn. Cocktails, decent music and burritos… You really make it hard to say no, don’t you?” Beca smirks, watching Chloe doing an adorable little dance, making the bed shake lightly. “Alright, alright. Fine. I guess it wouldn’t be terrible… I do feel like a drink, maybe 10…”

“Yay! Don’t worry, it will be aca-awesome!” teasingly emphasizing on the last word because she knows how much Beca hate the phrases that Chloe and Aubrey still haven’t let die. “I’m gonna have a quick shower and get ready then,” the older girl leaps up from the bed to head towards the shower, stripping her scrubs off on her way and chucking it into the laundry basket close by. Something that had become a reoccurring thing for Chloe to do, she’s seen the confident redhead in underwear or wrapped in a towel more times than she can count.

Beca narrows her eyes, focus gazing down Chloe’s toned back before shaking her head and looking away, glancing down at herself to see if what she is currently wearing is nightclub appropriate. Probably not. She slowly shuffles off the bed to look through her rack of clothes hanging nearby. A different pair of black ripped skinny jeans and a slightly nicer top to match her leather jacket is what she decides on.

Roughly an hour after Chloe gets out of the shower, she’s finally putting on her heels to match her little dark green dress and walking to the mirror to put in her gold hoop earrings. Ruffling long red hair to fall in waves down her shoulders.

Beca raises an eyebrow from where she sits at the coffee table, putting her phone into her jacket pocket. She managed to get changed, freshen up her makeup, pour herself a drink of whiskey & cola and catch up on the rest of her work emails while Chloe was still getting ready. She admires the other girl’s outfit from afar, slowly trailing her eyes over her body and down her tone legs. She does love Chloe in green, it makes her eyes glow even more, if that was even possible, and goes so well with her bright, radiant hair. She sips the last of her drink before clearing her throat, “Finally ready to go, miss?”

Chloe spins around with an enthusiastic nod, “Yep!”, walking over to grab one of her small purses and putting her phone into it. “How do I look?”, she cocks her head to the side with a confident smile.

“Chlo, you know you look great,” Beca says as she stands from her seat, “I like that dress… It’s nice,” she smiles softly, finding it extremely difficult to take her eyes away from the bright ones staring back at her.

“Thanks, Bec,” Chloe’s cheeks blush lightly as she looked down at herself and then back up, “you look great, too… Always.”

Beca shrugs a shoulder, moving to place her empty cup in the sink to break the longing stare happening between them. Chloe really wasn’t shy when it came to eye contact. “I guess we clean up nice,” she says with a smirk as they move towards the front door.

_____________________

Chloe was right, the club really isn’t that packed, and it’s big enough that even with a few more people, it is still tolerable for Beca. They find a booth to sit in which isn’t far from the bar, so they’re taking it in turns getting the rounds of cocktails, so they don’t lose their seat. The music isn’t too bad either, Beca has a habit of over analyzing others remix choices but, this DJ is pretty good so she can’t complain.

“See, told you this place would be cool!” Chloe nudges the smaller girl’s shoulder as she holds her straw between her fingers, taking a sip from her pineapple and passionfruit cocktail.

Beca’s lips curl into a smile as she glances over to Chloe, “You’re just waiting for me to say it was a good idea, aren’t you?” she says with a soft laugh, “it is pretty cool, though,” she finishes with a shrug. “This cocktail is amazing, too. It doesn’t even taste like alcohol at all“–she stops to take a small sip– “Very deceiving, slightly dangerous. I know there is at least two shots of tequila in it ‘cause I watched him making it.”

Chloe giggles as she shuffles slightly closer into the smaller girls side, “Let me try, I might get that one next,” she reaches over, taking a small sip and then glancing at Beca with wide eyes, “Oh, wow, yeah that is really nice… Try mine! It tastes like sunshine in a glass,” tilting her cocktail towards Beca.

“You are like sunshine in a glass,” Beca says with a soft laugh before taking a sip, nodding her head slowly as she narrowed her eyes, “Mhm, yeah. That’s good shit.”

“You’re good shit,” Chloe replies with another giggle, nudging against Beca’s shoulder again and settling her glass down on the table. “Now… It’s time to dance it out,” she whispers close to the other girl’s ear and then standing up, holding her hand out. Sending shivers up Beca’s spine from the quick closeness.

Beca freezes halfway through sipping her drink, “Oh, no, no. I’m still about two drinks away from that, Beale,” she says with a shake of her head. Mentally trying not to break as Chloe’s lips turn into a small pout.

“C’mon, Bec! I know you can dance! You’ve done it on stage in front of thousands of people,” Chloe argues, emphasizing her pout with a furrow of her brow.

“That’s… Very different. Choreography and lots of practice,” she scoffs back with a laugh. “You go. I’ll watch your drink and keep our super cool, comfy booth company,” Beca grins as her lips try to find her straw again without breaking eye contact with the pouty redhead in front of her.

Chloe lets out a soft huff and softens her expression, “Fine… But you better get your butt off that couch soon. This is just as bad as getting you out of bed in the mornings. Get yourself another drink!”

Beca rolls her eyes and nods, watching Chloe bounce off to the slightly crowded dance floor in front of them and letting her shoulders drop slightly as she leans back, looking down to see how much of her drink was left– only halfway and tequila really did hit her pretty hard. Maybe she only needed one more before she was ready to dance. Again, Chloe is extremely hard to say no to. Plus, she really does want to dance with her best friend, although Chloe’s innocent flirty behavior only gets worse when she has alcohol in her system and Beca finds it harder to deal with every time they drink together. She always has to monitor her own drinking, just in case she did something stupid like accidentally tell Chloe she is hopelessly, pathetically, in love with her.

She looks around her surroundings, the people in here aren’t actually too bad, compared to some of the places Amy has forced the two of them to go to in the past. There are hipsters, other people around their age who seem to be doing the same as them by enjoying the cocktails and some younger girls that appear to just be there to take photos with the neon signs to upload to Instagram.

Beca eventually settles her eyes back on Chloe, a small smile appearing on her face at how freely the redhead is dancing, she really does look majestic and gorgeous without even trying. Her hair flowing down her back as her body moves with the beat of the song, hips shaking from side to side and a drunken smile on her face as she turns to look over to the booth, winking at Beca after noticing that she’s already staring.

Beca gives a shy smile back and recoils slowly further back into the seat, glancing down into her glass as she plays with the ice using her straw. She looks back up about a minute later to see a, frankly, stunning brunette girl dancing near Chloe, seeming to get closer as the song continues. The stranger finally makes her way in front of Chloe, who gives her a friendly smile as she starts to dance with her, the two moving together to the beat. The other girl puts her hands onto Chloe’s hips, whispering something close to her ear. Beca swallows thickly and tries to look anywhere but at them, taking a slightly large gulp out of her drink as she tries to ignore the slight jealousy building up in her slowly.

When she finally glances back at them, it’s just in time to see the brunette moving one of her hands to Chloe’s cheek and leaning in, starting to kiss her and… Chloe actually kisses back. Beca feels her stomach drop like she just went down a giant hill on a rollercoaster. Surely Chloe isn’t that drunk, she’s only about one or two drinks in front of Beca and even drunk, Beca has never witnessed her kiss another girl. Sure, she might have said to her a couple of years ago that she wished she experimented more in College… But she never actually brought it back up again after that, nor did she get anybody else to take her up on the proposal, she definitely would have told her. Beca thought about it a lot after it happened and mentally punched herself a couple of times for not taking Chloe up on the offer or at least exploring what she actually meant by it. Once she actually wanted to confront Chloe, after her and Jesse had broken up, she told herself it had been too long, and it would just be weird to randomly ask about it.

Beca furrows her brow as she glances away with a confused expression, instantly gulping down the rest of her drink and wincing slightly at the burn of tequila at the bottom of the glass. She tries to stop her eyes from glancing back at them but struggles and gives in, immediately regretting it when she sees them still kissing, more so, full on making out now. She puts her drink down on the table and rubs her sweaty palms over her jeans as she stares down into her lap. The feeling in her gut makes her feel sick and she can feel her chest tightening up like she was about to have a panic attack. Stop being stupid, Mitchell. She’s not even yours, she thinks to herself, but it doesn’t stop the lump forming in her throat. She had to get some air. Right now.

She squints, glancing around while trying to avoid the two that she can still obviously see right in front of her and stands up quickly, immediately heading for the exit door, taking a deep breath in once the fresh air hits her. There’s a brick wall to her left that she immediately moves to lean against, closing her eyes as she tries to swallow back the stupid lump in her throat. Her hands patting her jacket pockets anxiously, letting out a small sigh of relief as she retrieves the cigarette packet and lighter– a terrible habit Beca has when she gets too stressed. She lights one up and leans her head back against the wall to look up at the sky.

She has witnessed Chloe kissing other people before, and though it hurts a little every time, it shouldn’t hurt this much. But watching her kiss another girl rattles something inside of Beca that she can’t control. There are a few reasons behind not telling Chloe how she truly feels, aside from potentially ruining their friendship, she’s pretty certain the redhead is completely straight, and her own insecurities convince her that Chloe would never like her in that way.

Taking a drag from the cigarette with shaky hands, she closes her eyes to try and focus on her breathing. She really should have just stayed at home.

“Bec?” Chloe slightly yells as she comes out of the exit door while looking around, making Beca jump lightly, straightening herself up to not look so miserable against the wall.

Chloe furrows her brow and scrunches her nose as her eyes fall on Beca and the cigarette between her fingers, “What are you doing?”

Beca glances into Chloe’s direction, “Just–” she clears her throat “–getting some fresh air…” She purses her lips and resists the urge to take another drag of the cigarette in front of Chloe after she notices how her red hair is slightly messier and her cheeks are flushed.

“Well, don’t you think you’re ruining getting fresh air by putting that in your lungs?” Chloe questions as she tilts her head slightly. “Come back inside, we’re going lose our seat,” she steps closer.

Beca can see how Chloe’s lipstick is slightly smudged once she gets closer. “Um, I… actually… think I’m going to head home,” Beca replies with a soft shake of her head, avoiding looking into Chloe’s direction, “That tequila kind of gave me a headache and I’m pretty tired.”

Chloe’s face drops and her brow furrows again, “Oh…” She perks her head back up, lip quirking into a small smile, “Well, I’ll come with you then, we can get you some water and–”

“No, it’s okay,” Beca interrupts, “you looked like you were having fun in there so, I’ll just see you at home,” she forces a half smile, a pretty poor attempted one and turns, walking away in the direction that she thinks the apartment is in, before Chloe can speak again.

______________________

Beca gets back to the apartment in about double the time it took her and Chloe to walk there, she definitely did not go the right way. She shuts the door with a little too much force, making half the coats hanging on the back fall to the ground, giving them a glare and deciding she really doesn’t have the energy to pick them up right now. She glances around the small apartment, making sure Amy isn’t there. No surprise, she isn’t.

She sits on the end of the bed, a dramatic and shaky sigh leaving her lips, feeling even more exhausted than what she did when she arrived home from work. The apartment feels even more empty and quiet than usual, making that dreaded lump in her throat come back. She isn’t even sure where she is looking, somewhere on the ground, but her eyes begin to blur as a few tears stray from her eyes to roll down her cheeks. Shaking her head with a groan, she wipes them away quickly and puffs out a breath. This is stupid, you are stupid, she thinks as she stands up, unsteadily shuffling off her jacket.

Her eyes spot the bottle of whiskey she used earlier on the table, pressing her lips together and clenching her jaw slightly, she walks over to it and removes the lid, taking a long swig then instantly closing her eyes tightly as it burns down her throat. She makes a slow move back to the bed, slipping her phone out of her jeans with bottle still in the other and settles down against the pillows.

Her mind wanders to what Chloe is doing right now, if she just walked back into the club without second guessing Beca’s behavior. What she might be doing with that girl right now. She’s probably still having fun. She can’t be mad at Chloe for any of it, she isn’t mad, it’s not her place, but it still is really hard for it not to hurt. She should have seen this coming, Chloe being with someone else, she should have prepared herself. Chloe is beautiful, she is bound to kiss or even get into a relationship eventually. Beca just didn’t properly prepare herself, like most things in her life.

She doesn’t know how long she’s been sitting there, mind preoccupied by thoughts. She opens her phone, having to blink a few times to focus her eyes down on it. No notifications. She’s not surprised. Actually, she’s a little surprised. Chloe is the type to text if Beca got home safe, if she’s feeling better, if she’s sure she doesn’t want her to come back. Obviously, she was still having fun without her. Beca doesn’t care. She shouldn’t care.

She throws it to the side and lifts her knees to drape her arms over them, hanging the bottle between them. The keys rattling in the door shakes her out of her thoughts, looking up with a slight frown as the door opens.

Chloe walks in cautiously, holding a large paper bag in one hand. “Hey, you,” she says as she closes the door behind her, brow furrowing at the pile of coats near her feet and stepping over them before glancing up at Beca and then the bottle between her legs, “I thought you had a headache,” she settles the paper bag and her purse onto the coffee table.

Beca chews on her bottom lip for a moment before responding, “Uh, yeah… I– I did…”, she glances around, unsure of what to say because she is terrible at lying, especially to Chloe. Clearing her throat, moving to settle the bottle down on the small bedside table carefully and crossing her legs in front of her.

Chloe cocks her head to the side as she stares at Beca for a moment, “Okay, well, I got you this–” she pulls bottled water out of the bag, settling it on the table “–I know you don’t overly enjoy the tap water we have here,” her lip curving into a small smile before continuing, “I also got you this,“ pulling a wrapped burrito out of the bag.

Beca smiles slightly, “Thanks, Chlo…”, she says in a soft tone, “I was going to get one… But I think I took the wrong way back.”

Chloe pulls her own burrito out of the bag, struggling to balance both of them in her hands and pick the water back up at the same time but manages, walking over to the bed to sit down on the corner, dropping the items down, “I was going to tell you that, but you walked away too quickly for me to get a word out,” she blinks up at Beca, pushing the items closer to her.

“Sorry,” is all Beca manages to get out as her eyes follow the other girl’s hand, glancing back up to find those ocean blue eyes still staring back at her.

“Are you okay, Becs?” Chloe says with sympathetic eyes, shuffling further up the bed to get closer to her.

Beca distracts herself by fiddling with the wrapping of the burrito in front of her, shrugging a shoulder lightly as she thinks about her response, “Yeah… Like I said, just tired.”

Chloe lets a soft sigh fall from her lips as she studies Beca’s face, “You know, you can talk to me, right? I thought we were past this whole walls-built stories high Beca thing… “

“I said I’m okay, Chloe. Just– Just drop it,” she runs her palms over her jean covered thighs, suddenly realizing how sweaty they are again, “please,” she adds on.

Chloe blinks slowly as her mouth gaps open a little before pursing her lips together with a frown, staying quiet for a long moment before changing her mind, “Actually, no. Beca, I want to know what happened. It’s pretty clear you’re not okay. We were having a good time… Is it about that girl who started dancing with me because–”

“No! I don’t care, honestly,” Beca laughs dryly, “I am totally fine, I just wanted to go home. I’m glad you were having fun… Tongue down her throat kind of fun.”

“What is that supposed to mean?” Chloe frown grows further with a wrinkled nose, “Are you jealous or something? I could have easily got her to come over to you instead.”

Beca lets out another dry laugh, “That’s not what I wanted,” she shakes her head, slowly lifting her gaze from the bed to meet confused eyes.

“Okay, then what do you want?” Chloe replies in lower tone as she looks over Beca’s face with those soft, glowing eyes that momentarily drop down to her lips before making their way back up.

Moments like this; she thinks, maybe, just maybe, Chloe has feelings back. That Chloe wants it all just as much. “I want,” Beca trails off, chewing the inside of her cheek, “to eat my burrito, I’m starving,” breaking the eye contact that was making the beat of her heart ten times quicker every second it continued. Idiot. Just tell her. Tell her how you feel.

Chloe expression flattens into defeat as she sighs quietly with a small nod, standing up from the bed to grab an old t-shirt and sleep shorts out of the draw, changing out of her dress close by.

Beca distracts herself from glancing up at the redhead by unwrapping the burrito, taking a few small bites as she fights back and forth with her mind. She really wasn’t that hungry. Why did Chloe react like she was expecting, even hoping, for Beca to say something different? Did she really just miss her chance to say ‘I want you. Please want me the same way I want you.’ There are a thousand things going through her head as she sits quietly on the bed with her eyes fixated on the food in front of her.

“I hope I got your order right; I’ve memorized it pretty good,” Chloe mumbles as she moves to settle down on the other side of the bed to lean back against her pillow, fiddling with her fingers in her lap. Her own food forgotten about at the end of the bed.

“It’s good, exactly how I like it. Thanks, Chlo,” she says with her mouth half full, sending a small smile into Chloe’s direction, which instantly disappears when she notices how sad she looks. It’s like looking at a hurt puppy and makes that sudden drop in Beca’s stomach come back. She swallows her final chew and leans to settle the half-eaten burrito down on to the bedside table next to the bottle of whiskey. Gross combination, Mitchell. She turns back to shuffle to lay on her side facing Chloe, propping herself up with one elbow, “Hey, I’m sorry… I know I kind of ruined our night and all.”

Chloe shakes her head faintly, “You didn’t, it’s okay,” turning her head to meet Beca’s gaze, her lips curving into a soft smile, “I’d much rather be here with you than anywhere else,” she says in a soft tone as she shuffles herself down to mirror Beca’s position and face her.

Beca really hopes the dim, pathetic lights in their apartment hides the blush she can feel creeping up her cheeks. “You really are my favorite person, Chloe,” she says in an equally as soft tone, her eyes wandering over Chloe’s soft features, watching the way her smile brightens after Beca’s words which makes her eyes crinkle and her eyelashes flutter through slow blinks.

“You’re my favorite person, too,” Chloe replies, moving her free hand that isn’t being used to support herself to gently brush a strand of hair away and behind Beca’s ear. Sparkling, blue eyes following her own movement before trailing back to land on Beca’s lips again, and then slowly returning to her eyes.

Beca knows she didn’t imagine that one, that lingering stare definitely lasted longer that time. She closes her eyes for a moment to bask in the feeling of Chloe’s fingers lightly trailing down her ear and jaw, skimming down the side of her neck, sending a small shiver down her spine that she really hopes wasn’t that noticeable. She opens her eyes back up slowly to meet the soft ones staring back at her. Her lips part like she’s ready to say something but closing them again after realizing she has no words for what is happening right now, and she definitely didn’t want to disturb or stop whatever was. Her heart is beating like it was about to jump out of her chest.

Chloe’s tongue flicks out to lick over her own lips and Beca’s eyes dares to skim down. She could feel Chloe inching closer ever so slowly, she could smell her fragrance–still that hint of strawberries & cream, mixed with the floral scented perfume she uses every day– Beca feels intoxicated and not at all by the alcohol she had consumed tonight.

Chloe’s fingers gently continue to trail down Beca’s neck before returning their journey back up to behind her ear and rest her hand against her cheek to cup it softly. She’s moving so slowly like she is worried she is going to scare Beca away, searching her face for any evidence this isn’t okay before finally closing that last bit of distance between them, lips barely brushing against each other.

As soon as she feels Chloe’s lips brush hers, Beca takes a light shaky breath in and leans further into the lips against her own. Was this really happening? Was there something unusual in that tequila cocktail that could possibly be making her hallucinate this? And then her mind stops working, drowning out to nothing but how soft Chloe’s lips are and how her knees feel weak even though she was lying down. She presses her lips further and tilts her head slightly as Chloe adds the same amount of pressure, kissing her back gently.

Beca’s free hand trails up from where it was awkwardly laying between them to rest on Chloe’s rib cage and pull her closer as she feels Chloe’s thumb rubbing softly against her cheek, eagerly pulling her further into the kiss.

The gradation of it all is innocent at first, their lips moving with each other’s like they are made for one another, shaky tiny breaths exhaled in between. But then Chloe’s tongue traces slowly out to meet Beca’s parting lips, Beca feels like she is melting into the bed as her tongue meets Chloe’s and her hand trails from Chloe’s rib cage around to her back, pulling her impossibly closer as their bodies press against one another.

Chloe is the first to pull back slightly after what seems like too long but also not long enough, to let out a much-needed breath. She leans in to press another soft kiss to Beca’s lips before fluttering her eyes open just at the same time as the darker blue ones, her lips curving into a smile, “I’ve wanted to do that for a really long time,” she whispers.

Beca just blinks back at the clear ocean eyes staring back into her own for a moment, “You have?” she eventually whispers back, the hand she has laying on Chloe’s back mindlessly starts trailing to hold onto her side again, like she’s scared she is about to suddenly disappear and she’ll wake up from a dream.

Chloe just nods, the smile on her lips brightening.

Beca sighs, slightly in relief and slightly trying to calm herself, she can still feel her heart beating way faster than it normally does. She surges forward to meet Chloe’s lips again, feeling Chloe’s hand moving from her cheek around to the back of her neck and instantly deepening the kiss again. One of Chloe’s thighs makes their way in between Beca’s jean covered thighs as they pull each other closer, and closer. This makes the arm Beca was propping herself up on instantly give out.

A soft giggle leaves Chloe’s lips after it happens before meeting her tongue again, she moves to slowly roll them over, so Chloe is lying on top of Beca, thigh still settled comfortably between her legs and the hand around Beca’s neck moving to tangle into brunette hair.

Beca takes a shaky breath in as she relaxes onto her back, one of her own thighs finds its way between Chloe’s and she swears she hears the other girl let out a quiet moan. Her hands trailing to rest on Chloe’s hips as their tongues dance around together passionately, Beca can’t control herself from arching her hips up ever so slightly.

Chloe meets her hips with a gentle roll down of her own, eventually tearing her lips away from Beca’s to start pressing soft kisses down her jaw line and across the side of her neck.

Beca tilts her head back to accompany the soft lips trailing across her neck, keeping her eyes pressed closed as she breathes heavily before– “Wait…” she whimpers out.

Chloe immediately stops and lifts her head up to meet Beca’s gaze with a slightly confused look, searching her eyes for uncertainty, “Are you okay?”

“Yeah, I just–“ she swallows thickly, realizing how dry her throat has become “–Can we just–“ she stutters out, looking into the pair of eyes that stare back at her so protectively and lovingly “–I don’t want this to just be some drunken make out or just sex… I really, really, like you, Chloe,” Beca says the last part a little quieter.

Finally. Beca feels a weight lifting off her shoulders as the words she’s been holding in for years finally leave her lips. Although she’s definitely holding herself back from saying I love you, just in case Chloe doesn’t feel the same. The possibility of losing her best friend is too much to think about right now.

Chloe’s expression softens as she pulls back to be able to properly look at Beca, the hand in her hair trailing back to cup her cheek and caressing again with her thumb, fingers moving lazily against the soft part of her neck right under her jaw, “I really, really, like you, Beca. I have since the moment I met you,” she says with an adorable smile spreading across her face.

Beca breathes out another sigh of relief, “Okay, cool,” her lips curving into a smile that’s probably a little too satisfied, “good to know.”

Beca still couldn’t believe this was really happening. Did she really hold and suppress all her feelings for so long without knowing Chloe has felt the exact same? Was she that oblivious that Chloe liked her back? Clearly.

“Yeah,” Chloe leans back down to press a gentle kiss to Beca’s lips, “good to know,” she murmurs against them, kissing soft lips a few more times before moving to kiss her cheek, shuffling to lay beside Beca again, “We’ve had a long night. Why don’t we cuddle and go to sleep, hm? Then I can show you just how much this definitely isn’t some drunken make out in the morning,” she hums, dancing her fingers down Beca’s neck, collarbone and shoulder blade.

Beca nods softly, the smile plastered on her face not leaving any time soon, “I’d like that,” she turns to steal another gentle kiss from Chloe before shuffling herself out of the bed. She struggles her skinny jeans and top off, finding a band t-shirt already on the floor to slip on before picking up the burrito from her bedside table and Chloe’s from the end of the bed, “I’m going to put these bad boys in the fridge for breakfast,” she smirks and walks them over to the fridge.

Chloe rearranges the blanket from underneath her so she can slip in and giggles, “Gross. But I like your thinking,” she winks and opens the blanket up as Beca turns off the lights and makes her way back over to the bed.

Beca settles back in with a content sigh. “Just one more…” she leans in to press a gentle kiss to Chloe’s lips, feeling the redhead smiling against her lips as she kisses back. It’s not hard to map out where her face is because of their shitty blinds that don’t block out the streetlights or the morning sun.

Chloe shuffles them down as she wraps her arms around Beca’s small frame as Beca reluctantly turns around after a few more soft kisses, pressing her back into Chloe’s front. “Hey, Becs,” she whispers, pulling Beca closer as she nuzzles her face into her shoulder.

“Mhm?” Beca hums out, already content enough to fall asleep quickly as one of Chloe’s hand finds her own.

There was a long pause before Chloe speaks again, “I actually really, really, love you.”

“I really, really, love you, too.”

The end.

#bechloe #beca mitchell #chloe beale #bechloe fic #bechloe fanfic #fanfiction #mine*

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slashingdisneypasta · 5 years

Text

Horror Villains / Slenderman and Seedeater x Reader || Oneshot

Title: Into the Unknown

Notes:

Based off the song from Frozen ‘Into the Unknown’.

One Horror Villain in particular is in this story. Wait and try to figure out who it is before it ends ^^ (;

‘X Reader’ as in you’re going to interact with them. Not as in you’re in a romance with them all.

The Horror Villains are only really mentioned. Except the one you gotta watch out for

I love this. So. Much.

Plot: Reader has spent her whole life, from 13 years old, searching for, defeating and understanding the creatures of night. They’ve always fascinated her- that they’re so dark, and yet still so coherent. She felt drawn to them, because she felt like she understood them. And she loved the thrill, of being a part of it.

But she stopped that years ago. She’s a grandmother now, a wife. Which isn’t to say that she regrets being either of those things. In fact, she loves it. Which is the very reason she’s put her monster hunting days behind her. She can’t put the people around her in danger, but… there’s something, in the woods, calling out to her.

Warnings: I don't think there is anything actually?

~~~

I have a surprising, out of the ordinary amount to think about, while you wash the dishes today. See, the window above this houses sink, adorned with pale blue and pink swirls over a white base paint, looks out onto the Black Forest, which unironically is the bane of my existence right now. Something about it, is clearly off in some way. More people disappear between its perimeter then Crystal Lake, Haddonfield and Pleasant Valley put together. And that’s just what normal people, without my experience and expertise can see.

I can feel it. A gut warning, not to go in there. Not for a walk, not to explore and definitely not respond to its calls. I can feel it like a tugging at my heart, like what forced my feet to move down the aisle on my wedding day, and what makes people run away from the basement at night once the lights are turned off all at once. I know there’s something in there, and something in me definitely wants to go see. To feel the adventure in the wind again on my face.

But I won’t. I can’t.

There’s something in this house calling for me to stay away, as well. It’s called family, and love. And no mystical forest is going to tear me from it.

Finishing the last plate, I pull big rubber gloves off my hands and drop them on the side of the sink and flash the forest one more dirty look, before turning away completely and leaving the room.

At this time of day, the yellow painted walls look more a beautiful, late day orange. Shadows from the trees hit, as well, and as I open the windows to let in the air, I feel immediate relaxation as the coolness caresses my cheeks and my neck. Settles me down, grounds me. Fills my heart with something other then the longing and disobedience I’m forcing upon myself.

Once all the windows are open, so I can clearly hear the wind chimes outside and the rooms all cool down, goose bumps crawling up my arms in a good way, I pick up a book from the shelf under the dusty TV and settle myself down comfortably in a chair covered in pillows in various floral designs. Yes, its an old lady chair, but its comforting and looks good with the rest of the décor.

Half an hour of peaceful reading successfully takes my mind off of the forest and whoever, or whatever, is in and allows me to disappear half inside the pages of another murder mystery. Then I hear the bell I handily fixed to the front door because my husband walks completely silently, jingle like an old Café signalling him getting home. “I’ve returned. I managed to find the bickies you like on my travels, so you’ll love me for another day I think.”

A nearly delicate snort escapes me at that, purely happy he’s back and put down my book as the door shuts again and the disembodied voice becomes Hudson when he round the hallway corner and enters the livingroom. A bag of groceries in each hand, which I get up and help him with immediately, taking one and peaking inside. Aha! The biscuits! He laughs softly, at my antic and leads me to kitchen, so we can put the books away. I risk a glance out the window, at the forest just so see how dark it is now. Not orange, but a dusky blue. I turn away from the forest coldly, which cuts off its calls to me in response, and turn on the light.

“So, how were your travels?” I ask, pulling the milk and some sandwich meats out of a bag and heading to the fridge, which he opens for me on instinct before taking the warm foods to the cupboard.

“A hassle, I’m sure is what you want to hear as I was away from you for so long,” I flash him a cheeky look at that for being so cheeky himself, and get another soft laugh back. Almost inhuman, its so soft. I’ve always thought, he must have some fae in him, and theorised that he’s a changing. “But it was quite nice. I walked all down the shops, and looked in most of them. Not the butchers, though. You know why.”

Ah, yeah. The man running the desk there, Dexter, is a bit of a flirt. But instead of admitting that I pick up on his advances, I shrug and take a seat at the kitchen table to watch him put away the rest of warm groceries. “I have no idea what you’re talking about. But go on.”

A deep sigh escapes him, which is totally put on as I know he finds my antics endearing- he’s told me too many times before. “You know very well, but whatever. I did go into the Indian grocery though, and I picked up some of those spices I sent you a picture of, and… “He goes on about the spices, which truly did interest me, as they were all the way from New Delhi and had beautiful jars, but suddenly the feeling from the forest picked up. Got stronger, and grew to fill every inch of me. If I were a dog, my ears would perk up and my nose would be going crazy.

That same call for midnight adventure, now made worse because of beautiful night air that made me feel so much better before, as if it’s changed tactics. For a few moments, at least, I stare off into space, towards the tall trees and darkness between trunks of the Black Forest. For a second, I allow myself to wonder what’s in there. Well actually, ‘allow’ may not be the wrong word, as it was completely out of my control.

But then Hudson’s hand lands gently on my shoulder, as he sinks into the seat beside me and successfully knocks me back to my senses just in time. A relieved sigh escapes me on accident, as I turn from the window again and to him. Senses crash down on me and I drop my shoulders. “I’m so sorry, I’m tired today.”

“Tired. Is that what we’re calling it?” He raises his eyebrows, knowing very well what’s really going on with me. And I know what he thinks I should do. But I can’t. Who knows what’s in that forest? It could be dangerous. Could be voodoo, like Chucky. Or something worse, something more demented like spirit. I wont call that to my family by revealing myself to it. He squeezes my shoulder and it’s halfway between comforting and advocative. So, I give him a look, but I lean into him.

“You know why I can’t give in to it.” My voice is nothing but a whisper, because who knows. It could be listening.

“Too much of you is part of that side of the world, Y/N. You can’t cut it off, you should give it a chance.” I look away from his face, and definitely away from the window. The wall, then. “I’m afraid it’ll rip you apart.

“Then so be it.” I don’t really mean it. To take care of my family, I need to be here. And even without that, I’m not ready to die. The years of fighting off things that have, has assured that fear in me. But I want this conversation to be over, so I say it.

He sets me with a serious look, like just saying that hurts him he wants me to never do it again. I glance at him, and sigh. “Promise me to think about it?”

“Can’t do that.” He knows, I can’t.

“… well, its not as if you can avoid it. Its ingrained in you. I’ll just wait and see.” Those little comments, although very true, have me gaping at his audacity. He flashes me a mischievous grin, then pull me up to our feet and wraps an arm around me. “Come on, darling. Let’s go to bed, then. I don’t foresee this conversation ending well for either of us.”

“Clever boy.” I clip, grinning at him when he gapes himself.

~~~

Later that night, once the sky is a deep, dark midnight blue and the stars and the moon are only just causing enough light to see shapes and dull colours by, I’m still wide awake. Hudson’s fallen into a peaceful sleep, but I’m still laying on my back with my eyes wide open, staring at the uneventful ceiling. The feeling calling me to the forest is so loud, in my ears now like rushing water at the pool, or a waterfall. Or tsunami.

I shouldn’t go. I can’t. I won’t!

The window in our room faces the same way as the kitchen, and if I only get up I could see it. Curb some of this pressure.

But if I do that, there’s a 50/50 chance that I’ll snap and go marauding into the forest at night. Which is dangerous without the definite mystical being hugged inside it.

I really shouldn’t go.

Another couple seconds pass, and I’m getting out of bed and pulling on my dressing down over my comfortable, soft pyjamas. I pass right over the window like the dauntless I am and go right to the front door, which I swing open. A cold rush of air, definitely not from natural sources, comes at me like waking up ice and I look out to the forest, which is a football field sized walk through the snow to get to from here. But that isn’t what’s daunting, despite the fact that I’m only wearing fuzzy socks and slippers to protect my feet.

No, it’s the figure waiting for me. Its huge, too, and I can’t figure anything else in the dark and from this distance. A final moment passes, and I pull a ski hat on over my head and my ears and go marauding towards the forest. “To hell.” I snap, on my way with my fists clenched.

About hallway towards the being, the monster, it starts coming towards me, as well. I don’t know what to expect when I get there. I all I know is that the feeling I’m getting off of it this moment is not benevolent, and I try to believe that. Finally, when we get within 5 feet of each other, we stop. It’s got a skull face that would be horrifying to anyone who hadn’t already seen what’s under the Midnight Man’s mask and the horrible screaming faces on a dream demon’s stomach. And its also got hair, human like and soft looking but unbrushed and probably never been washed, all over its bulging body. It stays still, only moving enough to breath out visible steam from its skull head into the world.

Not one to shy away, and certainly not one to stand by and just look when I’ve been called and decided to come, I take the remaining steps to it. Slowly, and cautiously. I raise my hand like you do when you’re approaching a wild beast, so it can smell you and theirs at least one thing between you and its teeth, which really wouldn’t help but at least makes you feel better, and focus on the way my shoes crush gently into the centre metres of sand under them. The sound’s satisfying, and calms me enough to reach the monster, and touch my hand to the middle of its skull.

A grunt escapes it, causing more frosty air to come out from him and into the world, before he sits his behind down into the snow without fear and pushes gently back into my hand. I feel that familiar, unreal joy at being with another creature, and start gently stroking up and down the smooth material, a puff of frosty air escaping my own mouth as I break into a smile. “Ohh, were you the only thing hiding in those woods? Oh, you’re a sweetheart. I’m glad we met.” A giggle escapes me when he tilts his head and I watch the delicate way his long, wispy fur moves in the wind. He’s the kind of beautiful that forces a smile on you, and a giggle out. Personally, my favourite kind of beautiful.

Relaxing, as the feeling calling me to the forest all but dissipates, I stay with him for a little while longer. As long as I can, actually. In the end, he’s the one who gets up, taps my nose with his huge one, and turns away and trots off. I watch him go, in complete peace and content…

Before my stomach drops and a realisation, made dull because of the nice experience I just had, hits me. The feeling’s come right back, now that he’s leaving, and taking the relief with him. “You… weren’t, the thing calling to me, were you?” I ask it so quietly, I didn’t think he would hear.

But a roar is my response. And the air around me, or in me, whispers Right…

Theirs more.

~~~

The next morning I poor Hudson orange juice and slide it over the bench to him, avoiding the discussion of last nights adventure for as long as I can. Because I know, he knows. He knows everything, somehow. And he’s been giving me a knowing look all morning.

“So,” The mischievous way his voice bends around that conjunction is wholly obnoxious, but I hide my eyeroll badly by drinking my own orange juice. It only makes him want to talk more. “Are you going to go back, tonight?”

Of course! Of course, he knows that theirs more to see. Changeling, for sure.

Setting him with a ‘Stop’ look, I round the counter and head for the living room to sit down and read some more of my book to get away from this, but of course he follows me. “Probably not, in answer to your question.”

He straddles the footrest that goes with this chair and takes my book from me, so I have to focus on him. “Sweetheart, I just want you to be happy. And well.”

“And I you.” I say curtly, and because I want to end this conversation.

“That’s wonderful to hear, darling, but you know what I mean. Didn’t meeting that big, dog-monster feel good?”

Of course, it did…

To that, I have no sarcastic or show-stopping response, because yes. I felt the best then than I have since the last monster. I love monsters, and Slashers, and creatures and beings. They’re my passion, my thing. But I didn’t choose that, and I guess that’s what caught me, here.

I picked my family.

I guess what I’m between, is what I chose and what I didn’t.

I take a deep breath, and look back at him.

~~~

… okay. I think, readying myself to go in. I’ve got a satchel with some food, a couple charms, my compass and all the crystals in the house- plus some dried chamomile petals in little bag, for safety and protection. Don’t know how effective these things will be, you never know when you go up against something new, but it’s definitely worth a shot.

I’m just squaring my shoulders to go, and start my trek across the field, when Hudson’s hands fall on my shoulders and nearly causes me a stroke. He never makes noise when he walks!! And he knows he scared me, too, if the chuckling is anything to go by. Oh my god…

“Goodluck sweetheart, I have the utmost faith in you.” Oh, his voice is way too cheerful because he won. I should make rissoles tonight, then he’ll be sorry. He hates rissoles. I bet he’s smiling.

Bastard.

“Thank you.”

“Goodbye kiss?”

I turn over my shoulder to look at him, and give him just a squinty smile. “Not on your life!”

“Ooh, you wound me. Okay, have fun!” Well, he seemed to get over that ailment quickly, seeing as he pats my butt to get me going. I shoot him one more greasy, then get on my way.

Across the field to possibly certain doom… but also possible delicious, wonderful adventure, I go.

As I travel across the field and into the forest, whispering in me and in the air gets louder. Just like the voice that said ‘Right’, last night, this one is. Except more urgent, and getting worse the further I go, pushing me on. I feel like what I’m reaching is big.

Past bushes and beautiful autumnal environment I go all the way through, stepping over logs and around trees that stand in my way because the voice knows where I need to go, and therefore so do I.

An hour passes of just stomping, and travelling, until abruptly the voice tells me to Stop! Harshly, of course I follow its instructions. Who am I to ignore a wind voice.

At first, I look slowly around thinking I’ll see it just standing there, waiting for me in plain sight like the monster from last night. And when I don’t see anything, I look harder, because maybe its camouflaged? Eventually though, after about 10 minutes of staying where I am, where it told me to Stop, I give up just peering around and move. I walk around the clearing, forest floor covered in brick coloured, marmalade shades, and dandelion painted leaves, and wet sticks, and patches of snow, and look in as many different ways as I can think of. Maybe I’m looking for something super small… maybe something so big it blends into the picture… maybe it’s not animalistic but a mystical object… But alas, nothing.

Until, eventually, I turn around he’s just there.

“-Holy fuck!-“ I react, jumping back from what, or who, is obviously what I was looking for, having not expected at all for him to be just standing there where I already checked 3 times when I turned around. An otherworldly and staticky yet still somehow spiteful chuckle fills the forest, somehow coming from the whispering of the wind and his person at once.

“Thought I might have some fun, seeing as you made me wait so long. How’s that for consideration? I have things to do, you know.” When he talks, theirs surprisingly no humour evident in his voice. In fact, he sounds bitter, and annoyed.

“Well, hey, man. I didn’t RSVP so you shouldn’t have been expecting me in the first place.” I snap back, getting up from where I’d fallen on my butt and peeling wet leaves off my jacket.

“Hm, no, well I suppose you aren’t the one who called this meeting, so… “He mutters- well, I say mutter because he says it like he doesn’t want me to hear, but he doesn’t lower his voice. He’s not afraid of me hearing, he would just appreciate it if I wouldn’t listen.

Cocky bastard.

I watch, cautiously as he raises a long, white, spiderlike finger to his left temple and taps it. “Telepathetic.”

“Oh… “Heat builds up in my cheeks, despite the freezing cold. “Uh, sorry.”

“And I thought you mortals were aware of me… Offender sure as heck doesn’t try to keep us a secret.” That unlocks knowledge in me. He’s Slenderman, of course! I didn’t realise, because I truly didn’t think he existed! A Creepypasta, used to curb teenage lust and loneliness. But, honestly, his figure should have led me to that conclusion. And if not that, then the hundreds of other clues. The way the voice in the ‘wind’ sounded like it was in my own head, the very fact that we’re locate din the Black Forest, in Germany… Maybe Hudson’s right, and I’m out of tune.

“Hm, yes, quite. You are incompetent.” Man, that telepathy is going to be a pain. I thought Slenderman was supposed to be a gentleman… but, then again. I guess, he is a recluse. And he really doesn’t care what he says.

Despite his rudeness, it is amazing that he’s real. It sparks an awe in me, that’s even more intense then the creature from last night. He, is the epitome of what monster hunters and explorers want to prove is real. He’s... a dream come true. I’m… I’m tickled, and… humbled, to get to meet him. So tall, and amazing. Majestic from every angle.

But… I’m still confused.

“So, what did you want me for, anyway?”

Immediately, the long, thin tentacles that were hanging decoratively dormant around Slenderman flick annoyedly and his mood takes an instant change to even worse. I take a quick step back, hoping beyond hope that distance will calm him down. Because if now, there is no way anything in my satchel will save me. “What did I want from you?! Why… He said you n- … “Again, with the ‘he’. Who’s he?

I want to know, but not enough to get decapitated for it so I don’t ask out loud.

Slenderman’s words cut off into static air sizzling around us, as the cogs in his brain start working faster, I’m sure, before he comes to a conclusion. He turns his head to ‘look’ at me again, without eyes, and stays silent for a moment. The air feels even colder then before, as the static gets momentarily unbearable and I squeak, covering my ears. Then it cuts off, and he sighs in utter annoyance. “Get out of my forest.” And with those last, sweet parting words, he disappears.

“I… “ I look around, to make sure he isn’t waiting behind me to kill me, because he just seems like that kind of monster, before closing my mouth and curtly turning to go home. Well, that was… I’m not quite sure.

It was amazing, getting to meet him… I’ll never forget it. My heart’s beat feels errative, and calm all at once because this is my passion… but… I’m still confused. Who’s ‘he’? Why did Slenderman call me? What was all this about?

But… then again… I think as I walk. As disappointing and hard as it may be for me, and any other monster afficionado… the fact of Slender’s age does have to play a part. And the fact, if we are to believe all the information that’s on the internet, that he lives alone and contact others as little as possible, so… well, he might just be off his rocker. Maybe… Maybe I shouldn’t put much stock into the things he said. He seemed confused himself. And, to be honest, a little instable.

I worry my bottom lip as I emerge from the forest again and hour later, or less because the way back always takes less.

If I’ve learnt nothing from this experience… except of course the Slenderman is real and a real jerk, too… it’s that I cant live anymore without this feeling, that I get when I adventure, and meet something new. When I realise, that all the myths and legends and stories that humans have told over the years may be true, somehow.

It builds me up, and makes me feel brave. I’ve missed it.

I… I don’t know, if I can go back to dormancy.

After I open the front door of my house, and close it behind me I lean back into it, tired and giddy. I’m so giddy, that I nearly don’t notice the smell of dinner on the stove but when I do my tummy rumbles, and I push off the door and go into the kitchen. I find the pot on the stove, and a note on the pot lid.

‘Y/N, dearest.

I’ve gone out for a walk while this boils. So, if you come home while I’m out, know I’ve just gone down the path in the backyard, not run off away from you for I could never do such a thing.

I hope your trip went well, and I can’t wait to hear about it over dinner.

Oh, and the garlic bread is in the oven and is probably burning.

Xoxo,

- Hudson I.’

“Gah!” Garlic bread! I smell it now! Damnit Hudson!

~~~ BACK IN THE FOREST. THIRD PERSON POV~~~

The man in the dark coat, and silvery beard, slips easily into Slender Mansion and to Slender’s study without the other Pasta’s knowledge, but certainly not without Slenders knowledge.

“You made go see that stupid girl as your one favour… and she didn’t even know you sent me after her??” The pen in Slenders hand snaps, making him sighs deeply and put it down, wiping his hand of ink with a handkerchief. Inkubus but smiles.

“She needed to be reminded of what she loved. It was important enough for the favour to me.”

“You’ve confused her. I don’t think I’d keep things from my mortal, if I ever was idiot enough to fall in love with one… “Slender finishes cleaning his fingers, and turns in his seat to drop the ruined handkerchief in the bin by his desk. He sighs, in defeat, because he knows he will never get through to the other immortal. He’s never been able to, before. What’s new now? “But, then again, I wouldn’t make that mistake, so I really don’t know.”

“She’ll be fine. Anyway, I just wanted to thank you. I saw the whole thing, and it worked wonderfully.”

Slender sets Inkubus which is a blank look to anyone else, but which is one of total deadpan to him. “Whatever. It was a favour, so now you can go back to your wife. You burnt the garlic bread, and she’s not happy about it.”

#Horror Villains x Reader #Slenderman x Reader #Seedeater x Reader #Slenderman #Seedeater #Slashers x Reader #Inkubus x Reader #Oneshot #Into the Unknown #Author's Favourite #Inkubus

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broken-clover · 4 years

Text

AU-gust Day 5- Post-Apocalypse

Ah. Um. Okay. This one is...sad. I mean I guess it kind of is by nature because of the theme? I wanted this to be upbeat and I feel like I missed the mark by a longshot. Wound up crying when I wrote this and tbh it’s probably half-coherent but here please take it. I promise I’ll do something less...this, next time

A massive bonfire lit up the tepid night, licking at the sky with every breeze and stick tossed onto it. Though he could make as big a fire as he wanted with just his hands and a little magic, Sol found a subtle beauty in nurturing a small kindling until it grew powerful enough that it only needed to be contained, swiftly gorging itself on whatever it came across and standing up to buckets of water that once would have been able to smother it a dozen times over. Almost like raising a child, in a way, though at least fire was easier to keep an eye on. And less raucous.

“Hey, old man!”

Speak of the devil. Sol shook his head with a smile and glanced over his shoulder. “Yeah? Thought you were supposed to be harvesting with your dad.”

Sin’s hair was as wild as it had ever been, though it took a little bit longer now for it to scrape the ground than it did before. It seemed easier and less labor-intensive to let it grow out into a shaggy mass nearly as tall as he was before lopping it all off. Sin used to be so intent of keeping it short at all times, but one could only go for so long being so hypervigilant before it turned to boredom and apathy. The only reason he even cut it at all was because of how he would trip over it while hunting and doing chores.

“I wanted to see if the fire was almost ready.” He pushed some of that messy hair back over his shoulder. “Besides, harvesting is boring, I’d rather help with the fire instead of having to carry stuff.”

Sol sighed, prodding the edge of a fire with a stick. “You’re nearly five billion years old, and you still complain about chores like a toddler.”

“Learned from the best!” Sin smirked back.

He was going to fire a retort back, but he could practically hear a little voice in his head chirping ‘Just let it go, Frederick. You know he’s just trying to get a rise out of you.’

“You’re right, you’re right.” He mumbled to himself.

Sin crossed his arms and huffed. “Fine! I’ll sit over with uncle raven then!”

The pale-haired man turned as sin approached the log he was on. “I’m afraid I won’t make for the best of company.”

“Still better than the old man! You use a lot of big fancy words and don’t yell at me when I slouch!”

“Sol!” A voice called from somewhere behind. As expected, when he turned towards it, he found Ky and Dizzy following, each carrying a large basket of greens.

“Figured you’d be longer. The brat didn’t exactly make it easier for you.”

“Well, I suppose a little mischief is alright for tonight.” Said Dizzy. “We were still able to find enough in the field for all of us to have plenty.”

Ky nodded. “And still plenty of leftovers, too. Little bit of mashed fruit, some potatoes, that cheese Raven made three years back, we have a lot! So make sure everyone eats well tonight. Not like we have to save it for anything.”

The man’s expression remained bright, but Sol’s fell. He looked back upwards. The midnight sky was a pale blue, hardly darker than midday. He couldn’t remember when it was truly dark enough to see the stars. Even the moon was little more than a vague crescent. At least the weather was tolerable, even with their hardy bodies, the days had become too hot to withstand, even in the underground bunker they’d shared for the last century or so. The sun was growing bigger and bigger every day, practically enveloping the sky. The few hours of ‘night’ were the biggest relief they got, so it made sense to make the most of what they had left.

Dizzy put her basket on the ground and began pulling out cobs of corn. “Where is Axl?”

“Said he was going on a grocery run.” Replied Ky. “I’m not sure what era though.”

That got Sin’s attention immediately. He sat up stick-straight. “Ooh, he’d better bring back something really good! Chips?”

“Mmm, shame he can’t go back to my time and bring back some of the treats I had in my youth.” Raven said wistfully. “Would probably attract too much attention.”

Sol idly thumbed at the dented lighter in his pocket. He’d run out of cigarettes, and had nothing to occupy his mouth. “He’ll be back whenever, not like he has any sense of deadlines. Just our luck, he’ll skip right past-”

As if on cue, a deep black abyss spiraled in the air nearby, crackling and popping for a moment before someone hopped through, carrying several bags.

“Right on time!” Axl cawed, raising a hand and walking over. “Glad I didn’t miss the party. I brought the food!”

Sin leapt out of his seat and scrambled towards the man, eyes shining. “What did you get? What did you get?”

“Easy, mate, I brought enough for everyone.” The plastic crinkled as he pulled out a variety of different things- packaged hamburgers, snack cakes, fresh fruit, and other things Sol didn’t bother taking note of. He only moved to catch a package of cigarettes as they were tossed to him.

“Maaan, this is much better than being stuck with vegetables!” the youngest’s eyes shone like he had been presented with a priceless treasure. “Jeez, how long’s it been since we’ve seen plastic bags? I think those all broke down ages ago.”

“And to think, people always used to say how wasteful they were, and how long they would take to break down.” Raven quipped, with a blithe little smile. “And now they’re impossibly rare relics.”

“Glad to provide!” Axl did a little bow. “Today, we enjoy the last swiss rolls in existence! Technically speaking.”

The feast started up soon after. Makeshift pots were set up for boiling vegetables, the leftovers were reheated over the fire. Axl’s food was bizarrely pristine alongside everything else, but nobody treated it as anything peculiar. Merriment followed the food, though it mainly just amounted to idle chatter and reminiscing.

“It’s delicious! Very well done.” Ky beamed, though Sol just knew it was bland, at best. “Corn’s so much different than it used to be, but I’m glad we still have that much. Reminds me of that one banquet, uhh, when was it? I seem to be blanking...can’t think of the millennium. I know there were still people back then, does anyone else remember the one with the corn sculpture?”

“Hmm.” Dizzy said. “Was that the one where Leo fell into the courtyard fountain after he drank too much?”

Ky thought for a moment in silence. “...Leo?”

“Scruffy blonde guy, had his own dictionary?” Sin offered.

“It was the first time you were king.” Added Sol.

“First...ah! Now I remember.” He nodded. “Goodness, that was forever ago. It’s hard to keep track. If I told my childhood self that someday I would become the ruler of thirty-five separate nations, I don’t think I would have believed it.”

“I tried once.” Axl replied, between bites of corn. “You thought I was bonkers. Kid-me said the same thing. Guess I don’t blame ‘em. I can hardly believe it sometimes. And I’ve been at this forever!”

“Mostly forever.” Corrected Raven.

“Oh sod off, birdie. B’sides, I could make words mean whatever I want ‘em to. There’s six of us! Who’s gonna stop me from saying ‘cold’ means hot and ‘hot’ means freezin’ your balls off!”

“Alright, alright, settle down.” Ky interrupted him. “We’re not here to fight. We’re here to celebrate. Sin, could you please pass me a hamburger?”

Sol couldn’t take this anymore. “I’ve gotta take a smoke break.”

They all seemed confused by his sudden outburst, but let him leave without too much trouble. He found a place in the wooded thickets that was secluded, where nobody but him could see the way his fingers trembled as he pulled a cigarette from the pack and lit it.

Not even the animals were there to judge him. He couldn’t remember the last time those had existed, anyway.

So when the dead reeds began to rustle, he nearly jumped out of his skin. That was stupid of him. It had to be one of the others. Knowing his luck, it would be Sin, pestering him with enthusiasm and trying to drag him back to the fire, or Ky, with those big, soft, sad eyes that still managed to be able to throw him off guard.

“Chief?”

Shaggy blonde and dirty red bobbed in between the reeds, until Axl emerged right in front of him. How many centuries had he owned the same bandana?

“Chief, what was that about?”

Sol huffed, taking a long drawl of nicotine. “Jus’ needed a breather. I told you.”

“Don’t you toy with me.” The other’s voice softened. He pulled out a cigarette from his own pack.

“Didn’t know you smoked.”

“I’ve done just about anything that can be done.” Replied Axl. “I’m serious. What’s wrong? Why did you run off out of nowhere?”

He didn’t want to start a fight, not now. But even at a time like this, it felt preferable to admitting his feelings. It felt like a boulder was on his chest. “How can they be so…”

“So…?”

“So...happy? We can’t take anymore of this. Even if the sun doesn’t consume the planet tomorrow morning, the heat will incinerate everything on the surface and then some. How can they find it in them to celebrate? I know that whole family can be naive, but you and Raven-”

“Sol.” Axl cut him off, softly but firmly. “We know. They all know.”

The answer seemed obvious, but it still felt like a blow to the chest. Sol kept his expression hard and unreasonable. “You’re bluffing.”

“I’m not.” He said back. “God, why would I lie to you now? It’s the last bloody day in the world, what do I have to lose anymore?”

The space went quiet. The weight only seemed to grow heavier.

“You know, I’m older than the rest of you.” Axl sighed in dismay. “So, so much more. I’ve done this before. Never been this kind of fun, though. I guess I just needed to get hamburgers? Hehe…”

Sol refused to meet his gaze, instead focusing on a glowing bit of ash as it fell to the ground. “You don’t have to be here, y’know. Unlike the rest of us, you can just bail.”

He was met with a slow shake of the head, a patient smile, and sagging shoulders. “I’m an old man, chief. I might not look it, but I’m the oldest thing in the universe. More than you, and Sin, and even Raven. I’ve seen the universe begin over and over again, and every step of it after.”

“And?”

“And I’m tired. I’m really tired of all of this. I’m done. The universe is falling asleep, and I finally want to fall asleep with it. The end of it all is the one thing I’ve never allowed myself to see. It was so tempting at times, but I knew that, even with all of my abilities, I was only capable of living once. I tried changing time. I tried seeing what else there was in the universe. But it all came back to this. Just a handful of people, waiting for it all to end.”

The way his jaw clenched made Sol nearly bite through his cigarette and break his teeth. “Were you the one to tell them, then?”

Another shake. “They’re smart, Sol. I didn’t have to tell them anything. I’d feel so lucky, if I were you. I couldn’t think of anyone better to spend so many eons with.”

It wasn’t right. None of it. But no matter what, Sol knew it didn’t matter. He could spend every last moment of his life screaming and clawing in an attempt to change anything, but there was nothing he could do now. Just a moment of silence before the apocalypse.

So he followed Axl back to the fire. Sol put on one of his rare smiles and hunkered down to chat, regaling dozens of lifetimes with the only people who knew could understand what such an existence was like. The rise and fall of nations, births and deaths and the many long years in between. Wars and peace and prosperity and poverty. Hope and love and crushing despair and the ever-flicking light of human spirit that let them carry on so long, even as the world had begun to end.

Sin ended up falling asleep first, slumped against his mother. Raven and Dizzy and Ky had followed suit eventually, huddled under blankets as Sol glanced between them and the fire.

“Don’t you want to sleep?” He asked his only companion. “I can take care of putting this out.”

A hand slid around his waist. “I want to be with you. Just a little bit longer.”

Sol managed a smirk. “Seems like a waste. You could use it for sleeping.”

He felt the hand trembling slightly, and cling to his clothing. “Is it...is it bad that I’m afraid of being alone for this?”

“No.” Replied Sol, wrapping his own arm around Axl’s body. “It just means you’re human.”

#AU-gust #writing #guilty gear #sol badguy #Axl Low #there are other characters #but I won't tag them

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web-of-fics · 5 years

Text

About Love

Request from anon: “Hi! I was literally at the park when I came up with this but can a get a fic where reader and peter go to the park at sunset cause you know the lighting is just 👌 and reader just chills on the swing and Peter starts doing stupid stuff so reader just decides to record him? Thanks”

Writer’s note: this song was playing in my head the entire time 😊 also, reader doesn’t know Peter is you-know-who

Words: 1109

✎_____________________________________________________________________

Being in the park felt weird for several reasons. First, there weren’t any kids running around. Maybe the cold temperature was keeping everyone at home. You seized the opportunity to perch yourself on the swingset you were much too old for, twisting the toe of your sneaker into the dirt below. Second, the setting sun was accompanied by an aura of forbiddenness. It was like being in a grocery store after it closed. It still existed during nighttime hours, but not for the purpose it was intended for. The third--and probably the weirdest factor of all this evening--was that Peter Parker was sitting next to you.

It wasn’t the first time you’d hung out or anything, but for some reason this just felt different. Maybe it was the fact that you weren’t also accompanied by the other members of your friend group. Maybe it was the way his hair curled in the humidity and bounced into his face every time he looked up. But it probably had the most to do with the orange glow cast on the landscape by the setting sun. You felt like you were in a cheesy rom-com. As soon as you had the thought you tried to shake it away. You had a massive crush on Peter, but you also worked extremely hard not to let that get in the way of your friendship. Ever.

But it was. So. Hard!

Peter, always with more energy than he could spend emanating from him, sprang up from his swing and began climbing the supportive metal bar. He inched his way along the top like a caterpillar, then dangled from his knees, looking down at you as his body swayed agilely.

“Peter!” you giggled like a nervous mom who was half-entertained by her rambunctious kids and half-terrified for them.

He extended his arm down and you reached to meet it with your hand. He clasped your fingers for a moment, steadying himself.

“Hang on!” you said, squirming to work your phone from your pocket. “No pun intended,” you added.

“I’m not going anywhere,” he said genially.

“You better not,” you mumbled, opening the camera app. “Okay, smile!” You leaned back and aimed the lens up at him, catching your clasped hands in frame with his goofy grin. “Got it,” you said, hating the feeling of him letting go of your hand.

You expected Peter to struggle on his way down from the bar, but to your amazement he stood on it with abnormal confidence. Before you could scream he hopped blithely to the ground, unfazed by the 9-foot drop.

He laughed at your expression. “Parkour?” he joked.

“My gosh Peter,” you said, your heart steadying. “If I didn’t know any better I’d think you were some kind of ninja spy.”

He approached a wooden picnic table, seemingly decided there wasn’t a challenge to be found with it, and gazed around at the surrounding tree to compare the branch placements instead.

It was easy to see where this was going. You swiped the camera app until it was on video mode and pressed the record button.

Peter made a show of trying to climb the trunk that was five times his size by wrapping his arms and legs around it and inching his way up. He backed down and continued backing up. You couldn’t figure out what he was doing until he used the space he put between himself and the tree as a running start.

Your mouth hung open. Was he serious?

Apparently he was, because he charged up the tree and into the tangles of its leaf-barren branches with the practiced motions of a tree-climbing Olympian. He gestured for you to join him. You cut the video and walked to the bottom of the tree. He was a full body’s-length above you.

“You can’t be serious,” you said.

“Try me,” he reached down, once more taking your hand. Before more doubts could cloud your mind, he yanked you up to join him. He seated you on the sturdy branch across from his. You rested your feet on the branch below. They wobbled with nerves. You weren’t a fan of heights.

“Look, someone lost a kite up here,” Peter produced a torn red-and-yellow scrap attached to a long white string. He wound it up and attempted to use it as a yo-yo. You laughed and aimed your phone at him, recording again.

“I really need to make a TikTok account that’s just clips of you doing dumb stuff,” you said.

Peter continued fighting to make the kite behave like a yo-yo. “Does that mean I’m gonna go viral?” he said eagerly.

“No idea,” you said. “But I would hope so. People seem to like it when other people almost die doing stupid stuff.” The words were out of your mouth before you’d thought of any potential consequence to them.

Before you knew it, Peter had abandoned his toy and was climbing bonier and bonier tree branches, aiming for the brittle top.

“OMG Peter stop it! Peter come down! Peter!” the words poured out in your panic, only egging him on. He reached the top and waved one arm out, leaning away from the precarious tree King Kong style.

He climbed next to you and noticed the sheer panic on your face for the first time. He beamed. “Like that?” he said casually. You punched him in the shoulder. “No!” you said angrily, but you were both smiling. The orange light from the setting sun caught the back of his head, giving him a halo. On the swings, there had been some distance between you. Now, you were both huddled against the tree, bracing yourselves against the brittle wind. Without the sun, it was much colder outside.

Peter and y/n sitting in a tree... you couldn’t help but think.

“I should probably help you down,” Peter said suddenly. “It’s getting dark out.”

The light caught his hair. You couldn’t bear to let this moment end.

“Maybe in a few minutes?” you said timidly. “It’s nice up here. I don’t usually get a view like this.”

He nodded and smiled. “Okay.”

You sat in silence for a while. Eventually, you rested your head on his shoulder and scrolled through the videos you took, asking Peter for input on how you should cut and post them online.

The sun set, but you didn’t go home for another hour even after you posted the videos. By the time you did leave--with a lot of help from Peter to get down from the tree--the moon was out and you were convinced you couldn’t ignore this crush any longer.

_______________________________________________________________________

Just one more before bed? Click here for a masterlist of my fics!

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paperwayne · 5 years

Text

assistance.

50 Wordless Ways to Say “I Love You” ➡ 43. Holding shopping bags that are too heavy for them.

Pairing: Jason Todd x Reader

Word Count: 1,375 words

Warnings: None

“Wow, you’re really taking this health thing seriously, aren’t you?”

“I’m making a commitment, Jason.”

Jason shrugs, perusing the vegetables with a hum as you tear off a plastic bag from the dispenser. One of the cabbages is lucky enough to garner his attention, and he plucks it from its crate, tossing the head up once before catching it and looking over at you.

“Being honest, the last time I saw you cook was last month. You live on Chinese take-out and Taco Time, not salad,” he points out, putting the cabbage down in favor of selecting a plastic container of baby spinach. “This is called spinach. Y’know, the kind Popeye eats to get strong? It actually exists –”

You glare at him, but snatch the package out of his grasp and drop it into the cart anyway. “I know that,” you reply tartly. Some fancy-looking bottle of raspberry vinaigrette soon joins the array of greens. “Don’t be a smartass. What’s the shame in starting now, hm?”

“There’s no shame. I’m just saying that the last time you tried this, we ended up getting milkshakes and chips a week later at two in the morning.”

The defensive scowl on your face slips a little at the memory, but you quickly shake your head. “That was for my mental health during finals. This is now. So are you going to help me out, or what?”

Jason snorts. “As you wish, babe.”

Despite the rough start, the two of you work through the list pretty efficiently. One bag of oatmeal, two bottles of carrot juice, and several arguments about how to sell a tomato-based fruit salad later, you and Jason finally make it through checkout and into your car.

With your several dozen pounds of groceries sitting in the trunk and Jason riding shotgun, you mentally nod to yourself and force the engine on. It takes a couple of tries.

“We should take a trip on my motorcycle sometime,” Jason states as you maneuver out of the cramped parking space, pulling on the recliner handle so he can lean back comfortably. “Just so you can remember what it’s like to ride a functional vehicle.”

As if to punctuate his point, the gearshift sticks when you attempt to shift from reverse to drive, and it takes a moment of jostling before you’re able to move forward. Your friend’s eyes shift over to gaze keenly at you, one eyebrow raised. You merely flick your signal on and grip the steering wheel stubbornly.

“I told you, Jay, I don’t do motorcycles.”

“They’re safe.”

“Like hell. What if I accidentally let go and splat against the asphalt? You gonna scrape me off?”

“You just have to stay close and hold tight,” he says. When you spare a glance his way, skeptic, he winks at you. “C’mon. I’d keep you safe.”

Your mouth opens to let a retort loose, but all that comes out is a half-hearted scoff as you turn into the road and accelerate.

It’s not that you don’t trust Jason, because you do, and maybe a little too much. But your feelings – certain ones, at least – are something you’d rather keep to yourself until they’re quashed, and you don’t think clinging onto him during a night ride, pressed close for hours, will make them go away any sooner.

(Even though the thought of it is so, so very tempting.)

“… And here we are.”

The apartment complex you’re staying in is far from luxurious, but you don’t have the money to complain about it. Finding a vacant spot to park in through some miraculous means, you crawl out of the driver’s seat as Jason unfolds himself from your tiny car and stretches.

Across from you, you spot Andrea unloading her kids from her soccer mom van. One of the little gremlins (and you say it with fondness, since they really are good kids) spots you at the same time and waves erratically.

“Hi!” Hunter shouts, and like a well-oiled machine, the others turn to look at you as well.

You nod and lift a hand in greeting. “Hey, kiddos. Hey, Andrea.”

Andrea greets you tiredly. Her daughter is understandably more energetic and grins back, giggling, before turning her attention to Jason and tilting her head. A chubby finger raises to point at him curiously.

“Is that your boyfriend?”

What.

Oh.

Jason’s reaction is far more composed than yours; he just wraps a heavy arm around your shoulders and gives you a shake. You’re too busy choking on your own spit – boyfriend! – to register the thorough jostling he gifts to your brain. “Good idea, kid. How ‘bout it, [Y/n]? I’ll let you pay for our dinner date.”

“Nice try,” you rasp, pushing his face away. He snickers as you give Hunter an apologetic smile. “He’s just an idiot I picked up on the side of the road. His name is Jason.”

“Oh, okay.”

For some reason, the child accepts your answer as fact, bellowing her goodbye as she and her family head up to their apartment. Once their backs are turned, you shake your head and fix Jason with a withering stare, which is returned with a satisfied shrug.

“Just help me bring the groceries up,” you sigh, popping the trunk open. “Please.”

“Wow, the magic word and everything. You must really want me to confess my love.”

“Please.”

Jason obliges and scoops up several bags with one hand, shutting the trunk after you grab the rest with a grunt.

He somehow takes the lead while the two of you climb the stairs, carelessly slinging his share over his shoulder while you use both hands to lug your bags along. You keep your eyes steadily on his back and away from the open gaps between the steps, acting as if doing so would make the hard concrete several feet below softer.

Halfway up the second flight, he stops and turns to look at you.

“Need help?” he asks.

You grit your teeth and continue trekking upwards, attempting to hide your flustered expression when you peek at his muscular and very capable arms. “No, I’m good.”

“Alright. Suit yourself.”

He resumes walking, this time staying behind you. It’s harder to not look down now, but you carry on, fingers aching.

Not long after reaching the top of the stairs, though, you’re the one that stops.

“What’s up?”

You shift uneasily onto your other foot, avoiding his stare. “… It would help a little,” you begin reluctantly, “if you took some of the bags.” They seem even heavier now. “Just so it’s easier for me to unlock the door when we get to my place.”

“Sure thing,” he replies.

Without further ado he takes all four of your bags and starts heading down the hallway. It takes a second to realize what he’s done, but when you do, you run after him with a vengeance.

“H-Hey!” you scold, struggling to keep up with his quick strides. “I said some of them, not all of them, Jay.”

“Whoops. Must’ve misheard.”

That grin is back on his face. You sigh, exasperated, but it doesn’t stop the edges of your mouth from twitching upwards as well.

Soon enough, you and Jason reach Room 252. Digging your keys out, you pick one out and shove it into the lock. The door opens with a woody creak and the sound of dripping water meets your ears, and you mentally file away the fact that the kitchen faucet is still leaking.

Jason strolls into the kitchen and places your groceries next to that broken sink, looking briefly out the window overlooking the parking lot and then at the pictures on your windowsill before stepping back.

“Well, see ya around.”

You grab his elbow as he walks past you, gnawing the inside of your cheek.

“Hey – uh, I’m testing out a recipe Uncle Alfred lent me,” you say, scratching the back of your neck. “Want to help me out?”

For a moment, he seems to contemplate your offer. That moment is exceedingly short, though; his lips pull into a smirk, and Jason reaches up to pinch your cheek. You make a face at him as he rolls up his sleeves.

“As you wish, sunshine.”

[50 Wordless Ways to Say “I Love You” prompt list (requests using this prompt list are openCLOSED)]

#wordless ways to say i love you #source: @50-item-writing-prompts #jason todd #jason todd x reader #jason todd imagine #red hood #red hood x reader #red hood imagine #reader insert #romance #fluff #fanfic #dc #dc comics #dc imagine #roy harper #civilian reader #this is really just pointless fluff ig #yay

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3starsquinn · 4 years

Text

Lessons Learned || Orion & Rebecca

(Backdate to 3/28/2020)

Location: Abandoned Scribe Headquarters

Summary: Rebecca comes to the Scribe headquarters looking for some information on spirits; Rio uwu’s over another Professor that he can grow attached to.

Time was running out. And Rebecca’s desperation had brought her to a place she thought she’d never stoop to. The Scribe headquarters. Though long abandoned, it still stood, hid behind lock and key, like the cooped up knowledge keepers they were. Pretending they were the master’s of the supernatural world, hoarding information behind steely eyes and pretentious attitudes. She’d never really gotten along with them, but after they’d throw her under the bus for their own, she’d found that loath rising up every time she thought about it. Though it would have been easy to blame them for what happened to Theo, she could never bring herself to fully do that. She knew Theo’s death was her own fault, but the sting of it was still there, as she pushed the doors open and found her way in, surprised they were unlocked. Then again, the place was hidden by magic. Rebecca was just lucky that it was still in the same place, from the last time she’d tracked the headquarters down with some help from a local ex-Scribe.

The inside of the place was just as she’d remembered it, as if it hadn’t aged a day in three years, or however long she’d been gone. Keeping track of time was still difficult. She had to often use Theo’s headstone as reference for how long ago things happened. Ignoring the thought, she went about her way, finding the section they’d been to ages ago on demons, ghosts, and ancient rituals. And got to work. She hardly noticed someone approaching her, she was so hyper focused on her work, jotting down notes left and right and stacking piles of books around her.

Orion had mostly gotten over his panic attacks from people intruding in his safe space. He had his fair share of people inside of the Scribe headquarters at this point. He returned to the abandoned building from the store, an optimistic attempt at purchasing some lights and candles to make the place a bit more visible considering the lack of electricity and never-ending darkness that seemed to have befallen the town. It hadn’t made doing his job, or rather his hobby easy. But he planned on persisting. He swung the door open and made his way down the hallway, grocery bags in hand. He didn’t notice the noise until he got closer to the library. He could hear someone rummaging through books on the shelves. At this point, he didn’t think much of it outside of the initial jump in his heart rate. It could have been one of a few people that Orion had already met here. Professor Drake, Professor Beck or even Winston. All three knew about the vast library and all had expressed interest in returning. So he casually made his way into the library, bags in one hand and flashlight in the other, a dim flash illuminating a small portion of the path in front of him. But much to his surprise, when he finally found the culprit inside the library it wasn’t anybody that he knew of. “Uh. Hi.” He squeaked, his mouth immediately dry. He definitely hadn’t been expecting to see a new person in here, though maybe he should by now. Though the face wasn’t completely unfamiliar, as the woman turned to face Orion he recognized her from the campus. Probably a professor that Orion hadn’t met. “You’re uh- I didn’t expect anyone to be here.” He was not suddenly very self-conscious of the boxes of snacks, pillows and his laptop that laid on one of the tables around the corner. Had she seen it when she came in? “What are you doing here?”

Rebecca, so engrossed in her work, didn’t even register the tiny light coming her way. Or the initial squeaked hello. It was only when the boy moved closer, his light reflecting off one of her books, did she look up, startled. “Oh, I’m--” squinted through the light at him. “I’m sorry. I thought this place was abandoned. The--” she glanced around, then looked back at him, closing her notebook. Whoever he was, he definitely didn’t need to be involved with her mess. “I apologize. I came here a few years back for information and thought I’d see myself in. I’m looking for some more books on certain...topics. I’m Rebecca Rothbard,” she said, finally standing and holding out her hand. The boy couldn’t be any older than 21. “And who are you?”

Well the woman didn’t seem like she intended to hurt or kill Orion, which made him a bit more comfortable, though he still had no idea why she was here. Clearly she was looking for some kind of information. Mostly likely supernatural considering she mentioned that she had been here before. Anyone who knew anything about the Scribes knew they were more than just historical record keepers. “Well it was abandoned. I mean it is abandoned. Besides me right now. Well, and you. What are you looking for?” He definitely remembered her from the college campus. “I’m Orion. Or Rio. Whichever. You work at the college, right? I feel like I’ve seen you on the campus. I uh- I’m a college student.”

“Oh!” Rebecca said, straightening out. She gave her best ‘new student looks too anxious, time to calm them down’ smile and nodded. “I do! I just started about a month ago. I’m the new Anthropology professor. It’s lovely to meet you, Orion. Named after the hunter or the stars?” She asked, looking at him, before glancing back at her stack of books. “It’s related to a more personal matter. I was shown the place by an old ex-Scribe a few years ago. I figured all this knowledge was going to waste just being so...hidden out here. I didn’t think anyone would mind.” Besides, the Scribes owed her. She closed the book to show Orion the title. “I’m an exorcist. Just doing my thorough research before getting in too deep. What is that you’re doing out here? And in all this nighttime mess? It’s dangerous to be out alone.”

So she was a Professor. And of Anthropology too, a subject near and dear to Orion’s own passion. Anthropology may have had more focus on people and how they lived, but it had its roots in history. Which meant at some point, Orion may end up in one of the Professor’s classes. It also meant that all the Professors at that college apparently knew about the supernatural. Orion supposed that he couldn’t be surprised. “Nice to meet you too, Professor…?” He realized that he hadn’t gotten her name. “I uh- both actually. But my parents definitely had the hunter in mind when they named me. My sister’s name is Athena. So a lot of Greek influence.” An ex-scribe showed her this place a few years ago? That meant that there had been at least one person that still knew of the building’s existence in town. Assuming that scribe was still alive, Orion wondered why they had never shown up again. Instead leaving the legacy to a whiny twenty year old. “Yeah, uh. Well it is abandoned, but not completely going to waste. I kind of.. watch over the place. Unofficially.” He shined his light at the book title that the Professor was showing off. “An exorcist?” Orion asked, immediately excited. He had never met a real exorcist before. “That is way cool. Uh.. I wish I was anything that exciting. I’m just a college kid. Who comes here to read sometimes.” Not the whole truth, but he wasn’t lying either which seemed to be Orion’s modus operandi these days.

“Oh,” Rebecca said, giving a little wave, “forgive my manners. Rothbard. Rebecca Rothbard.” She held out her hand for him to shake, scooting some books out of the way so that he could take a seat at the table with her if he wanted to. She settled back into her own chair and shuffled some more stuff around, tidying up her mess of papers and notes. “Well, they’re both good names. Strong names. Greek history always fascinated me, much more than other Western European history.” She looked over to him, motioning for him to sit. He seemed nervous almost, or perhaps she had just startled him. This place was supposed to be abandoned. “It’s quite noble of you to decide to look over this place, even unofficially. The old Scribes sure did seem to leave this place in a hurry, huh? It makes you wonder what really happened to them all…” not that she entirely cared, but this kid already seemed leagues better than any Scribe she’d met. Most of them would have either immediately shooed her out or accused her of trespassing on knowledge. She had to stop herself from rolling her eyes at the thought. “Oh, please, people don’t find shelving books exciting anymore? What has the world come to?” she half teased, giving a little grin. “So...how did you find this place? Because I doubt anyone who’s ‘just a college kid’ stumbled here on accident, hmm?”

“Really nice to meet you Professor Rothbard!” Orion shook the professor’s hand eagerly. “I really like anthropology. So uh, I will probably end up in one of your classes eventually. At least I hope so.” He grabbed a seat at one of the tables as the professor motioned and glanced at the stack of books and papers she had amassed. Did Orion need to say something? If she tried leaving with the books did he need to check them out, like some librarian? Professor Beck had taken a book when she came, but with the agreement that she would bring it back when she was done. Was that what Orion should be doing here? He had never considered the idea of people coming here to try to find books. “Same! I mean I love learning about any piece of history I can, but Greek mythology just has so much depth about it. And there’s so much we know about it to spread around, unlike some other civilizations that didn’t leave as much behind.” The Professor knew about the scribes and claimed to be an exorcist, and within the confines an abandoned building focused on the supernatural she didn’t seem to have much reason to lie. “There are uh- theories on what happened. I don’t know what exactly happened to this chapter though.” If they had, would journals have been left here to detail it? Or would the Scribe have taken it with them? “Guess not so much… It’s uh- just me.” Orion laughed nervously, moving back and forth on the chair that he was sitting in. He couldn’t seem to sit still. “My uncle was a Scribe,” Orion began explaining, happy to have something to focus in on, “He showed me this place when I was a kid. Before he left town. A few months ago I decided to come back and check the place out, see if any other Scribes had been here. Then I kept coming back I guess.” He trailed off, unsure where he was planning on taking that story. He didn’t like talking about his uncle much anyways. “What brings you here? Is there a specific.. uh demon that you’re searching for? Or something else?”

“I’ll look forward to having you in my class, then,” Rebecca said with a grin. She watched the boy sit, toddering back and forth in his seat anxiously. She could practically feel like waves of anxiety coming off of him. She hoped it wasn’t because of her. He almost reminded her of Blanche, just without the sass and the sarcasm. “It’s true. We’re lucky we have as much as we do on them. Though, if I’m being honest, my favorite ancient civilization is Sumerian. I’m a little biased, though.” Another soft grin, hoping to ease his worries. “Your uncle was a Scribe? Is he still around?” She leaned back in the chair, watching him closely. Maybe the questions about his uncle had been too much, but his voice trailed and his eyes sunk down to the table, a classic sign of discomfort. “Either way, I’m glad someone saw fit to come and take care of this place. All these books, all this knowledge, it shouldn’t go to waste. You’re doing a noble thing, Orion.” She let out a small breath, eyes suddenly more weary, as she looked down at her pile of notes. She was tired of lying, of keeping people at the edges of her boundaries, her life, but something like this was too dangerous for a simple kid. “I’m just looking up all the references I can for magical binding items to help with a particularly tough ghost. Sometimes exorcisms aren’t strong enough and binding rituals are needed to help...assuage the problem.”

“Ooh that’s a great choice! Sumerian culture has some of the oldest surviving works pieces of written history. Obviously, the Epic of Gilgamesh came from it, which is one of the coolest pieces of literature ever. I mean it was found on the original clay tablets in cuneiform. How freaking cool is that?” Orion laughed incredulously, wondering what it would be like to find some piece of history like that. How the people that discovered it must have felt. Though he supposed he sat on his own little chunk of history now within this very building. He coughed, trying to regain his composure and straightened back up in his chair. “Sorry- I get a little excited. Uh- what makes you biased about that… If I can ask?” Understandably, she was curious about Orion’s uncle, the former scribe. He didn’t blame her, but he didn’t care much for talking about it. “He’s alive. But he doesn’t live in White Crest. He moved away like six or seven years ago.” Short and sweet. Luckily she seemed willing to move on just as quickly, which Orion welcomed. Even if it was to compliment him, something he definitely didn’t know how to take. “Oh uh- well thank you. It’s- Well I’m not really doing much. Besides reading.” He listened carefully as she explained what she had been looking for. He didn’t know much about exorcisms- his family didn’t really deal in the incorporeal business. They were strictly Fae and fangs. Which made learning about Professor Rothbard’s job even more intriguing. “Interesting. That sounds like it can get… dangerous. Do you usually do exorcisms alone or do others sit in with you? Do exorcisms have to be done by like a religious figure like in myths. Are you a religious figure?” He crossed his arms and asked the questions curiously, unsure if the professor would be willing to share the details.

“It’s very cool,” Rebecca said back, liking the way he smiled when he talked about history. She always wanted to encourage people to pursue things that made them happy like that. She gave a shrug. ��I’m partial to any ancient civilization that helped with the creation of Israel, being Jewish myself. Though we come from ancient Egypt more so, you’ll excuse me for not enjoying the civilization that enslaved my ancestors.” She gave a short, dour chuckle before moving on. “I see. That checks out with when many of them began...scrambling away.” It was also around the time she’d first been asked to help exorcise the possessed boy. A memory she wished didn’t have to be so solid in her mind. When we first met. Rebecca stiffened but didn’t react. Her eyes went from Orion, to the table, back up again. She steeled herself. “Consuming knowledge is noble in itself, looking after it? Is definitely true. Don’t cut yourself short, Orion. We don’t have history because wars were fought, we have history because stories were told, right?” She could sense his uneasiness with the compliment, but she wasn’t about to not let him take it. “It can, but if you’re prepared and smart, it takes a lot of the risk away. Hence,” she reached out to pat the books next to her. “I myself am a religious person, but one doesn’t necessarily have to be religious, no. Power in exorcism comes from intent and from the strength of one's conviction. It’s about speaking words of power. The more meaning those words have to a person, the stronger they will be.”

Of course, Professor Rothgard was right. It was hard to be interested in a civilization directly responsible for the oppression of your own people. “Right. Yeah, of course. Sorry. That makes sense.” The professor had chuckled, implying that it was meant as a joke but Orion understood if she was being honest. Orion had a heritage that he wasn’t exactly proud of. He certainly wouldn’t enjoy hearing others telling the story of noble hunters, killing monsters. “Yeah. Definitely. I uh- thank you. I just like giving others the ability to learn if they want. It’s the quickest cure for ignorance.” That was more directed to his family, his kind than anything else. But he believed it to be true as well. “We have history because stories were told” Orion repeated, mostly to himself. “I really like that.” He brightened up just thinking about it. It was one of the more positive takes on learning about history. Strength of one’s conviction? Well, clearly Orion was never going to become an exorcist. He could barely order take out without his voice shaking. “Sounds really.. heroic. And cool. Uh- I’m way more comfortable behind a book. Not really an in the action kinda guy. But- anything I can help you search for?” It would be hard, hunting down specific things in this darkness, but Professor Rothgard seemed to have found some of the things she had been looking for.

“Oh, it’s fine,” Rebecca waved the apology off, “I was mostly being facetious.” A gentler smile, as she watched him a little more closely. Uncomfortable in his skin, but not when he talked about history. He had a true passion for the subject, it seemed. “Well, that’s another thing we have in common, then. Hence why I became a professor. Helping blossom someone’s want to learn and pursue their passion is one of the greatest feelings in the world.” Her smile grew as he repeated her words. “Well, feel free to use it anytime, it can be our phrase now.” She leaned in a little closer, as if she were going to whisper something to him, “don’t tell anyone I read it in a fortune cookie, though. It’ll make you sound smarter.” And winked before leaning away again. “Heroic isn’t...quite the word, I suppose. Others might disagree with you, as well. But it’s what I like doing and what I’m good at, and if my skills can help the world, then all the better.” She ran her hands over the books she had piled up next to her. She was hesitant to involve him, but turning him away might do more harm later. She held one of the books out to him. “I’m looking for any information on sealing magic and Dybbuks. A second set of eyes might catch something I’ve missed, if you’re up for it?”

It was nice, hearing that Orion and the Professor shared something in common. Of course, he had known that already, without anything being said. But coming from her, it felt especially nice. He enjoyed meeting others with similar interests as his own. Especially considering how his family was always eager to remind Orion just how useless the degree was. He had decided long ago to not put much thought into what they said or did to him, but he still had to live with them. “I imagine that it is- it uh, must be nice to be able to inspire someone like that. I know it’s nice to have someone to look up to like that.” He giggled at the woman when she admitted that she got the phrase from a fortune cookie and intentionally brought his voice down to a whisper, “Your secret is safe with me.” So some people didn’t agree with exorcisms? He supposed on some level that it was similar to Orion not agreeing with his family’s legacy. Though ghosts and demons were obviously different from real, tangible people. “Really? People don’t agree with exorcisms? Like people that don’t think that it’s real or people that don’t think that ghosts should be like... exorcised?” He was genuinely curious, a profession that he hadn’t had much research into. It was fascinating. Then the Professor was holding a book out to him and asking him about looking over her research. “Dybbuk? I’m familiar with the name” He wracked his brain for the information, “It comes from Jewish mythology. Some kind of spirit that can possess things. Its Hebrew for ‘cling to”. That didn’t help much with deal with a real life one. He couldn’t know how a real life one compared to what must have been a centuries old myth. “I’d love to help out however I can.” He grabbed onto the book and flipped it onto it’s first page, ready to skim.

Rebecca was glad that her words seemed to bring him some sense of ease or peace. If it was validation he was looking for, she was all too eager to give it. People with passion like him deserved to be validated. “It is,” she answered truthfully, “and I’m sure if you wanted to, one day you could do that as well. It just takes understanding and compassion, after all. Anyone who wants to could easily do it.” She nodded back at him. “Good. You seem trustworthy.” His questions were to be expected. Most people didn’t really know anything about the truths of exorcisms and what it meant to be an exorcist. But she was all the more happy to answer questions because of that, especially when it was from an inquisitive mind and not a skeptical one. She thought, for a moment, back to Javier, and if his inquisitive mind could be swayed as well. “Not everyone agrees with it, no. It’s dangerous and some people-- and some spirits-- become attached to being...around. And while not all ghosts are problems, most of them will become one, eventually. It is an inevitability, of the ether calling back what it gave so willingly. Souls need to be reborn, recycled, and renewed. Sticking around past that due date has consequences.” These, of course, were just her beliefs. But she held them thoroughly and hadn’t changed her mind on that since she’d first heard Rabbi Emmaneul speak them. “Correct. I’m a little surprised, they’re not a well known spirit. Very few of them, but they’re powerful--” and extremely dangerous, “--and not to be trifled with. But, if you’re up for some research, I’d love the help. I’ll can buy you dinner when we’re done, or maybe some flood lights for this place,” she smiled.

Orion had already decided that he liked Professor Rothgard. Between the shared passion for knowledge and their aligning hobbies, it seemed obvious that the two would get along. Though personality was a big factor too. Athena loved learning too, but Rio wouldn’t soon consider the twins to be close like they once were. But Rebecca seemed to be doing her best to help others, just like Orion wanted to. “I do! Someday. In some way.” Maybe his legacy wasn’t to rebuild the Scribes, but he could still find a way to make a difference, no matter how small. “Interesting…” Rio thought on her words, taking it all in and considering all sides. He supposed those that died before they were ready would want to stick around. Though he wasn’t sure how much fun being a ghost would be. But that was an interesting bit of information- ghosts became a problem eventually? What did that mean? “What do you mean when you say that they mostly become problems eventually?” He knew that Blanche saw ghosts. He wondered to what extent. Were ghosts visible to those they were close to? Or could only certain people, people like Blanche, see them? “Can all exorcists see ghosts? Or like- Do you also have to have the ability? Or is there some kind of spell or something that you can take to see them?” There were so many questions that were unanswered, and Orion was not a fan of feeling like he was in the dark. Knowledge was the only thing that kept his anxiety at bay most days. “Well-uh I know more about them from history than I do the actual spirit” He shrugged. Her certainly didn’t know much about them outside of the name. “Of course. Count me in. But uh- you don’t have to buy me anything. I’m happy to help.”

“Curious one, aren’t you?” Rebecca said, the words rhetorical. She closed the book she’d opened and leaned against the table, chin in her palm, as if contemplating. “Well...the thing is, when a spirit comes back, their soul needs to be attached to something in order to stay on this plane. And over time, most spirits learn how to interact with the world, even if it’s just in small ways. Like, some ghosts can move things with their energy, the typical chair out from under you type ability. Some can control electronics, or fire, or even wind. But...that ability comes with a price. Being torn between two planes would be hard on anyone, let alone someone who’s died and can only mourn what they once had. That power turns into anger and that anger turns them into...poltergeists. Spirits that only want to cause pain. They, for lack of a better term, go insane. They can’t often control themselves anymore. It’s a tragedy, if I’m being honest. And no ghost is immune, no matter what they say. If they don’t move on, that’s their fate.” She sighed. The thoughts saddened her. Souls were supposed to move on, not ligner, not mourn. “Most exorcists are born mediums, yes, but not all exorcists are mediums. Just like not all mediums are exorcists. It certainly makes the job easier, to be able to see them, but it’s not necessary. There’s no spell, really, but there are things one can take to help see them. Prolonged use, as with most drugs, can cause problems, though.” She flipped open the book again, running her hand down the page until she found the spot she was looking for. “It’s a drug called Vizion. You’d be hard pressed to find it at CVS, though.” She opened a different. “Well, history and current lore kind of go hand in hand, don’t they? We only know about things and how to properly defend ourselves because of the history that was recorded about them, right? Fine, no dinner. But at least a thank you donut at some point. Kids like donuts, right?”

Orion shrugged, “Guilty” He chuckled at the fairly common remark. Curiosity. An eagerness to learn. Those were two of Orion’s defining traits. It may have been the only thing that Orion excelled in. The only thing that he could beat his sister in. Studying, learning. It hadn’t done him much good apparently. It was sad, listening to the professor explain the fate that all ghosts were destined for. It made Orion wonder just how many ghosts he must have passed on a daily basis. On top of that, how many were poltergeists? Or on the brink of becoming one? The thought was terrifying. White Crest more than any town must have an astronomical number of ghosts, just based on number of deaths alone. Not to mention the number of deaths from unexplained or mysterious circumstances. “Fascinating stuff. I mean it’s terrifying and terribly sad but… it’s crazy that there is a whole world like that just beneath our noses - maybe literally - and nobody knows it.” He tapped a finger against his cheek, pondering this information, “I mean obviously the whole supernatural community is like that… but like at the end of the day even if someone doesn’t believe in the supernatural they can still see someone turning into a werewolf or something. This is completely invisible unless you’re born with some gift or you take drugs. I’m guessing you happen to be a medium then?” One more question, then he would focus on his studies. Vizion. He would have to look further into that. Not because he wanted to take it himself, but because he was simply curious what it was for besides ghost watching. Orion shook the thought from his head, opting to focus on the task at hand and dive into the book. “I’m not a kid” Orion muttered half heartedly as he flipped a page, “I’m twenty.” He didn’t put much stock into it anymore. He was too used to people calling him a child. After a long moment and another page turned, Orion finally admitted “But I do like donuts.”

“Terrifying is one word for it, I suppose,” Rebecca said, sighing a little. “But it’s also quite amazing, don’t you think? The world is just full of terrifyingly amazing things. Truly wondrous things. Fear is not meant to stop us, but drive us.” She paused at his explanation, his question. That was just it, wasn’t it? People could see someone turn into a werewolf or other, but denial was a strong antidote to the truth. “True. Some ghosts can become visible, however, and there are exorcisms that make them visible, as well.” She rubbed the side of her jaw a moment in thought, before answering, “I’m not, no. A medium. I can feel and hear ghosts, but not see them.” Usually. Lately, that had been changing. At the edges of sleep, out of the corner of her eye-- sometimes, a ghost. She’d convinced herself she was seeing things, but she couldn't be sure anymore. “I trained myself to be able to do it. It took several long years of dedication, but it seems to have paid off, no?” She smiled again. He seemed upset by her words. She often forgot people associated child and kid with immaturity and disrespect. But that wasn’t what it meant to her. Childlike youth and inquisitive minds were something to behold, to respect. “Oh, I didn’t mean it like that. Being young is a gift. Besides,” she said, giving a little bitter chuckle, “by the time you’re my age, you’ll think twenty-year olds are children, too.”

“I do think you’re right,” Orion agreed, mostly. He basically thought that the professor was right, but it was hard for him to latch onto the words himself. Probably because he was scared of literally everything. “I just- well I’m afraid of a lot of things so it’s easier said than done I guess? I prefer to face my fear from the safety of a textbook.” He laughed, trying to dispell the mood. He didn’t want to disappoint her by disagreeing with her philosophy. He didn’t disagree with her philosophy. He just found it hard to follow himself. Orion couldn’t imagine how difficult it must be to follow a career path that she inherently had a disadvantage in. The dedication and force of will it must have taken her to train herself to be at the point that she was… that was impressive. “Wow. That’s cool.” He finally managed to mutter, staring at the professor with a bit of awe apparent in his voice and eyes. Could he ever be someone like her? Probably not. That was reserved for people like Athena. She could be so impressive if she wasn’t so evil and conniving. “Right, right of course. Sorry. I just- people tend to tell me that to downplay me or make fun of my size or… I don’t know. It’s just a reflex. My bad.” He smiled again, then buried his face into the books, determined to find something. Anything that might help.

“Well, knowledge is the first weapon to fighting fear, isn’t it?” Rebecca proposed with a soft smile. She understood fear well. She’d seen it and felt it enough. Knew the emotion intricately. But she couldn’t let it stop her. Not anymore. “It’s alright to be afraid. Fear is healthy. But, like with all things, in modicum.” She gave a short sigh, flipping listlessly through the book she’d poured through a thousand times. And as with each time before, there was little to nothing about anything that could help her problem. “Thank you. Talent is overrated, in my books,” she said off-handedly, “it’s hard work that creates the real geniuses.” She looked up from her book, over at him. He did have a bit of a smaller frame for a twenty-year old boy, but it had never mattered to Rebecca. She wasn’t exactly big or strong or athletic. “Well, next time, you can tell them that youth and being a child comes with its own kind of wisdom,” she started out, a little smirk growing on her face, “like being able to see through adults’ bullshit.”

Despite his own concerns, Orion was pleasantly surprised that the professor seemed to choose validating him over chastising or judging. It was a pleasant change to what he was used to. Her suggestions came across as exactly that, suggestions. Mottos to live by, not instructions or demands that must be followed like so many other adults wanted from him. Okay, he knew exactly who he was talking about specifically. Family. He laughed at Rebecca’s comment, “I’ll make sure to add that to my list of comebacks for next time, thanks.” It could be queued below silence, and above awkwardly laughing and leaving.

He dug further into the book in exorcisms. Flipping through pages as he tried to find anything that stuck out to him. He wasn’t sure how much time had passed before he finally spotted the name. “Woah.” He said aloud, perking up from his slumped position on the chair and staring at the name again. Jacob Goldman. In this book, the author mentions him as the closest thing the Scribe’s had to an expert on exorcisms in White Crest. But Rio knew that name. He jumped up from the chair and darted off down an aisle, cutting corners until he finally got to the section on White Crest. He remembered seeing that name before, somewhere in this section. He ran his hands along spines as he searched through the books until he finally spotted the one that he was looking for and ran it back over to the table. “So, Jacob Goldman was a Scribe here. He kept a journal of everything that he documented and did while he was alive. He eventually died.” Orion swallowed hard. It probably wasn’t necessary to mention that by all accounts that he could find, the man died while searching for a demon to exorcise. Orion flipped towards the back of the book, scanning through books until he finally found something. “Right here!” He set the journal onto the table so both could say, “He was on the search for some spirit. According to what he knew about it, he was trying to search for it’s name when it was a human. To use as some kind of binding spell. It didn’t really mean anything to me when I first read it, but I don’t know much about exorcisms”

It was a few hours before either of them spoke again. Rebecca had been, admittedly, drawn into the text she’d been reading and forgotten that there was another person in the room with her until he’d let out a soft exclamation. She was oft to do that, something Theo had always bugged her about. You can get lost, she’d always say, as long as you come back to me. And she always had. Always. Orion had toddered off somewhere, but Rebecca’s curiosity got the best of her, as she set her book aside and listened to him shuffle his way through the big, empty library. He came back soon with a new book in his hands, an excited look on his face. A scribe. Of course a scribe had the answer, all locked up and tucked away in a vast labyrinth where only a dedicated and privileged mind could find it. Not that she blamed Orion for this, but anything scribe left a sour taste in her mouth. She licked her lips, glanced at what he was pointing at, listening to what he was saying. She’d heard Rabbi Emmanuel speak about something like this before. Demons whose names held all their power, buried where no one could find while they grew stronger, consuming souls. “Of course…” Rebecca muttered under her breath, scribbling all this information down into her journal, “how could I have not realized? Oh, Orion! You’re a genius!” she exclaimed, hopping up to grab his shoulders and give him a good pat. “Thank you! This is just what I needed.” Finally, finally, she had something to cling onto. A thread of hope.

Maybe Orion was eager - no - desperate to impress the professor. Was he a teacher’s pet? Maybe, though he didn’t feel that way towards all teachers. It was the ones that he held a shared interest with. Professor Drake, Professor Beck and now Professor Rothbard. Those that valued knowledge as much as he did. So when he found the book and brought it over for her to examine he held his breath in anticipation that this was what she was looking for. That this could help. Because more than anything else in the world, wasn’t that what he was the most desperate to do? “No- no not a genius at all. I just have a lot of free time on my hands.” It had been more luck than anything else that he recognized the name and knew where to look. “But I hope that this helps” He closed the book again and held it out towards her, “Do you want to take it? He could have something else that helps in here.” If she would be leaving soon then he should too. It was best to stick around people for now. “Can I- help with anything? To get rid of that evil spirit thing?”

Rebecca gave him one of those stern, quit being modest looks. “Don’t downplay your achievements. You could be using your free time for other stuff, but you chose to do this. And remembering an entire passage from reading it once is pretty amazing, if you ask me,” she said, beaming down at him. Not just because she was proud of him, but because she couldn’t help the excitement inside of her. She wanted to say yes, to take the book, but if he found it, all this progress would be ruined. For now, her coded notes would work. “No, no, that’s alright. I have all I need right here, now,” she said, patting her journal. “And you’ve done plenty to help, trust me. You can leave the rest to me, I’ll take care of it. But thank you, Orion. You really are a smart kid. Don’t ever let anyone tell you otherwise.” And she would make sure the dybbuk never set foot in this place, because if he did, she wasn’t going to be the only one in danger anymore.

#c: rebecca #rebecca #chatzy: rebecca #chatzy #lessons learned

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mybookstorecarlovinghusbands · 5 years

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Oh, the Irony Part 2 (Crowley x Female! Reader)

Part One Here

Summary: As Armageddon is underway, the demon, Crowley’s relationship with demon hunter, Y/n is tested and certain flashbacks of their history together unfold even further than before.

Fandom: Good Omens, Supernatural

Warning: Angst, tiny fluff, the usual

Notes: As requested! Also, should I possibly turn this into a fanfic on Archive? I have so many ideas for it than just these two parts. Let me know!

((REQUESTS OPEN!))

~~~~~~~~~

AMERICA, TEN YEARS BEFORE THE END OF THE WORLD

Of course, Sam and Dean Winchester were worried about her after she and Crowley showed up. Scared that she might have sold her soul to the demon to help them find Michael’s sword, the brothers were rough to Crowley and interrogated him with no remorse. The entire time Y/n tried explaining the situation, Crowley had kept cool and as usual, cocky, which didn’t help the situation. Y/n thought the only reason Dean didn’t kill the bastard was because of their love for cars. Meanwhile, Y/n and Sam hear a distress call from Jo and Rufus and when they all get there, they were all tricked into thinking that each other were possessed by demons, illusions created by a member of the Four Horsemen, War. By the time they barely escaped with their lives, Y/n reported this finding in to Crowley, who stiffened at the mention of War and suddenly became serious, explaining Armaggedon to the rest of the hunting crew. It was then did everyone agree to put the past aside and help each other out by working together to find a solution in stopping Lucifer and finding God.

After meeting a Cambion named Jesse Turner in Alliance, Nebraska, Crowley starts getting anxious to go back to London. He gets snappy and tries irritating Y/n to no end to try and get her to leave with him so the two of them could hurry up and stop Armaggedon, but Y/n had always put her foot down whenever her friends were concerned and refused to leave. She even threatened to exorcise Crowley if he tried taking her away. After a threat like that, Crowley had to give in and help. He offers to give them another weapon. It’s not Michael’s sword, but it’s powerful, maybe even powerful enough to stop Lucifer. He tells the Winchesters about the Colt, the same weapon the brothers had lost awhile back. After they demanded he tell them where it is, Crowley willingly gives them the Colt with the promise that they don’t miss when trying to kill Lucifer. A battle ensues, a battle that ends with Jo and Ellen dead, but Lucifer is still very much alive. It wasn’t a victory, and all it did was make Y/n feel heavy and defeated. After losing her friends, she knew that Crowley had held up his end of the bargain and so there was no reason to stay in America anymore.

And so, without accomplishing anything, Y/n watches as the two silhouettes of Sam and Dean Winchester slowly fade into the fog of that rainy morning before disappearing completely in the side mirror of Crowley’s Bentley. Leaning back in her seat, she practically glares at the dashboard in front of her.

Crowley doesn’t say a word as they drive off, thinking about London and was ready to whisk the car, the woman, and himself back there when said woman suddenly opened her mouth, “Thank you, Crowley.”

He turns his head at her, the car nearly swerving off the road as he does so. Y/n didn’t seem to notice as she meets his gaze underneath his glasses with sincerity, “Thank you for sticking around. You could have stabbed me in the back at any time and take off, but you didn’t.”

Crowley stares at her for several minutes before turning back to the road, frowning, “I don’t think I like you when you’re nice.”

Y/n snorts, “That would be the appropriate answer of a demon.”

“Well, maybe not every creature with black wings and a handsome complexion is evil. After all, your angel friend, Castiel, has black wings.”

“Yeah,” Y/n’s eyes are distant while thinking about it, a hint of a smile on her lips while thinking. Crowley watches the wonder sparkle in her eyes and he decides to look away before the sight affected him.

“Don’t actually take that to heart,” he quickly defends, clutching the steering wheel, “So! As we are about to head into my territory, are you going to try and stab me in the back and back out on your side of the deal?"

Y/n’s lips tighten, the moment passing while pointing him with a knowing look, "Not unless you give me a reason to."

Crowley grins.

~~~~~~~~~

LONDON, THE LAST DAY OF THE WORLD

Out of all the things Y/n imagined Crowley doing on the last day of the world, she wasn’t expecting to walk into the apartment after work to find him looking over old maps and checking off places on the globe he keeps on the desk.

“What are you doing?” She asked, setting down some groceries she grabbed on the way home while walking over to the desk to look over the maps herself.

Crowley looks over at her and takes off his glasses, throwing them onto the desk and watch them skid into a halt before talking, “Where should we go?”

“What?” Y/n frowned while tilting her head in confusion, staring into his golden hue eyes for an answer.

“England’s out,” he continues while grabbing the small globe and letting it float in the air between his hands, watching it spin, “America’s out.”

Y/n steps closer to notice a new place on the globe near Africa, reading off its name with utter shock, “Atlantis?”

“Didn’t exist yesterday,” Crowley thought she was suggesting places and continued to list off others, “It exists today. Still out.”

He tosses the globe aside and lets it float in the air on its own while he slams down The Extremely Big Book of Astronomy onto the desk, startling his girlfriend in the process. Hastily, he flips through the pages, muttering under his breath, “The moon. No atmosphere. No nightlife. Unless you plan on wearing a space suit for the rest of your life, it’s out of the question.”

“Crowley, what are you-?”

As Crowley flips through the pages, they spring out of the book and fly all around the room, causing Y/n’s hair to fly around her as she watches in wonder. Crowley plucks a certain page from the air and reads it off, “Alpha Centauri! That’s always nice this time of years. Beautiful nebula, look at that,” he pushes the floating paper in her direction, and as she holds onto the page to read it, he shrugs knowingly, “I helped build that one.”

“It’s lovely,” she comments, letting go of the page to watch it fly off before eyeing her boyfriend, “But I still don’t see what this has anything to do with the Antichri--”

“I only ever ask questions,” Crowley continues, and the whine he lets out afterward made Y/n wonder if he had been drinking, “That’s all it took to be a demon in the old days.”

Y/n’s face softens, sadly watching Crowley mope around his throne while staring up at the ceiling, groaning, “Great Plan? God, you listening? Show me a Great Plan. Okay, I know you’re testing them, you said you were going to be testing them. You shouldn’t test them to destruction,” Crowley eyes the floating globe beside them, “Not to the end of the world.”

He bats the globe aside like a cat with its toy, only to watch the globe float back into position. When the room is silent, Y/n finally found a moment to talk without being interrupted, “Crowley, again, what is going on?”

“We need to leave,” his voice lowers now that his episode was over, pushing himself off the throne to walk over to her, “Alpha Centauri. You’ll love it there. Pack your things and then we can go off together. Aziraphale wants to stay, but if we leave now maybe we’ll run into him again before taking off. Tempt him to dinner or the cinema maybe then we can all go-?”

“And leave Earth?” She finished his sentence, understanding finally crossing her mind while straightening her shoulders, crossing her arms, “We’re running away?”

“Call it what you like. But we can’t win this. Heaven and Hell, they’re going to win. It doesn’t matter which of them wins because, by the time they do, humanity will already be gone. The world will end with the victor on top next to the Antichrist. They and the Four Horsemen are going to rule the world and there will be nothing left here for you, do you understand?”

Crowley places his hands on both of her arms, “All I know is that I can save you... and Aziraphale once he gets that stick out of his arse. Now come on. Let’s get you some clothes and food and we can take off. There won’t be any monsters left for you to fight so we can leave all you weapons and gear behind--”

Y/n steps out of Crowley’s grasp, staring down at her feet with defeat in her eyes when she looks up at Crowley’s confused expression, “As long as there is still time for me to do something, I’m going to do it.”

“Y/n, there isn’t any time left! Armageddon starts today! Not tomorrow, not next week--”

“I’m not an idiot,” Y/n hisses back, “I heard you the first five hundred times you’ve said it since the day we met or did you forget that you wanted me to help you stop Armageddon? Well, I told you I wasn’t going to step out of the deal and I won’t start now.”

“I’m sorry, but did I just so happen to make up the part about where we’re more than just partners now or did you make that bit up because it would make the deal we made easier?” Crowley snapped, and Y/n realized too late that what she said came out wrong to him as hurt was practically blazing from his snake eyes.

“That’s not what I meant.”

“Are you still telling me that you want to hold your end of the bargain? Because I thought we threw that deal out the window the moment we decided to be together because the deal didn’t exactly matter by then.”

“It matters to me,” she snapped, “I promised to help you. Us being together only made it even more crucial that I keep up my end of the bargain because it meant that much to you. Together or not, I want to help the world, and I will.”

“Even when I’m asking you not to?” Crowley’s voice cracks to a higher pitch as he’s desperate to get a move on.

“If we just find the boy then we can--”

“For Heaven’s sake, Y/n, we need to leave!”

“I’m not leaving!” Y/n suddenly screams, “I am going to stop Armageddon in any way I can. Even if you’re too scared to do it--”

“I’m not scared, Y/n. I’m terrified!” Crowley curses under his breath and paces the room, before turning on his heels to waltz right back up to Y/n, “How long have we been together? Five years?”

Y/n went tightlipped as Crowley desperately tries to persuade her, “Please, darling. I’ve never begged you to do anything before but I’m begging you now. Come with me. We can run away together and live out the rest of our lives among the stars. Lots of spare planets up there. Nobody would even notice us.”

“You’re asking me to leave Earth! To leave my friends and family to die here. After all the friends I’ve lost to monsters, demons, and angels, I think it’s time I do something to make sure that never happens again,” Y/n’s voice cracks, taking a deep breath before she starts walking towards the door while grabbing her bag, “Sam and Dean expect me to visit next week to tell them everything about how I helped save the world... I don’t intend on disappointing my boys.”

“Darling, wait!” Crowley moves to grab Y/n but the female hunter was faster. After years of fighting and hunting demons, she’s learned how to avoid and even kill them of course. Before Crowley could reach her, Y/n took out a small tin of salt she had in her bags of groceries and before he could blink, Crowley was stopped by a line of salt inside the front doorway, with Y/n already on the other side, dropping the salt canister with a huff of air. She stares at Crowley with sad eyes, the two of them standing on either side of the salt line, silent, a look of betrayal in the demon’s eyes. Y/n wills herself to look away and she did.

“Goodbye, Crowley.”

“Y/n!” He cries after her as she leaves, and for all that he knew, it would be the last time he ever sees her.

~~~~~~~~~

At first, Y/n didn’t know where to start. Her first idea was to go to Aziraphale and help him figure out how to stop Armageddon. When she got to his shop, he was desperate to tell her everything. The angel had felt guilty for lying to Crowley about finding out where the Antichrist is and so he told Y/n instead. After telling Y/n the whereabouts of Adam Young, Aziraphale said he had work to do and so the human left him to his own devices. Now it was Y/n’s turn to get ready for her trip to Tadfield.

She takes the bus to the nearest cemetery, looking both ways before crossing the street towards the iron gate and climbing over it. Once she’s sure no one saw her, she makes it towards the large tomb overlooking the whole graveyard at the very center of all the stones. She fiddles with the lock and once the door opens, she makes her way inside. Without a second thought, Y/n throws the lid to the coffin in the center of the room aside, only to reveal that instead of a body, there was a spiral staircase heading down. Y/n hops inside the coffin and makes her way down the stairs, taking two steps at a time.

Like I’ve said before, Y/n had a network of hunters working for her outside of London for the very long years she has lived here. And during this time, a sophisticated hunter such as her needed to build a lair in which all sorts of weapons, traps, and other supernatural gear could be hidden away from prying eyes. Not even Crowley has been here since the tomb itself is riddled with traps for all sorts of beings. Y/n had even used blood magic so that only she could access the lair. Once inside, she turns on the light to find everything just where she left it. Guns were propped up onto the walls, and in the center was a glass case of other objects meant for the unreal monsters of the night. Salt, holy water, holy oil, dead man’s blood, Enochian puzzle boxes, the list goes on. She grabs a sawed-off double-barrelled shotgun from off the wall, loading it with a couple of rock salt shotgun shells before blowing a strand of hair from out of her face.

“Right then. Off to work.”

~~~~~~~~~

(Part 3?)

#good omens #good omens imagine #crowley #crowley x reader #crowley imagine #imagine #supernatural imagine #dean winchester #sam winchester #aziraphale #ineffable husbands #aziraphale x crowley #crowley x aziraphale #crowley x fem!reader #crowley x you

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weaverlings · 5 years

Text

Time Works

Poorly, or not at all. Like love. Unscientifically. In mysterious ways, mostly.

Night Vale has changed, whether or not its citizens know.

god idk I did this all at once tonight because I’m emotional?? about tomorrow?? year 8 yeah okay!!!!!!

this is extremely post episode 150, 100% pure hypothetical but I had fun playing with some concepts

content note for anxiety, accidental pregnancy, alcohol, spiders

AO3 Link

- - - - - -

Three o'clock in the morning. That meant something now.

Time, lost sleep, sweat, dreams. All soaked into the sheets. It felt like the AC was off for some reason. Why would the AC be off? It was not Pioneer Day again, yet. The clock was still on, red digits leaking onto Cecil's lacquered night stand.

Three-oh-one, now. His shirt was damp against his back. His arm was trapped under Carlos' back, so he couldn't really roll over to see the clock. He could only lie there, and glance at it, and not fall back asleep. He tried to ease his arm free, as Carlos' warmth had broken into the heat of deep sleep, the heat of a summer night that contradicted every lecture on desert safety and survival from his boy scout days.

Almost forty years ago now. That meant something.

Carlos made a sound. An abrupt sigh, a heavy breath. His lungs catching up with the rest of him. Cecil thought that this meant he had not been gentle enough, although Carlos would not have understood it that way.

"Ceec?"

"It's nothing. Go back to sleep."

"Mmm? Mmm-no, hold on..." Carlos protested, and rolled onto his side.

Cecil caught Carlos' hand as it slipped over his stomach. He squeezed, kissed Carlos' knuckles, and then, delicately, tucked his husband's hand between them so that he could sit up. He whispered, "I just need a drink of water."

He closed the bathroom door behind him, and thought, this is what mirrors are for, and his heart quivered in his throat, but his thoughts were running away from him now, his thoughts were heat-haze-

This is a moment that belongs to a mirror, I should lean on the countertop, and I should look, look in and really see-

He did not touch the black drape. It hung, still and opaque. His heartbeat throbbed in his skull, rushing in his ears, eating into his perception of space. He did want some water. That had been true, still was. He had frightened himself now, and if he grabbed the tap, then his knuckles might brush the cloth behind it. He might touch the mirror. Well, he couldn't, but he might come as close as he could.

Nearly forty-five years ago, his mother had warned him. She had looked into his eyes, and he had looked back, wide, grinning, knowing only the attention of someone who loved him. She had looked into his eyes, until he giggled, but she had never laughed.

That meant something now. He had been too young to understand then, but he had broken the moment. A moment, a mirror. And he was old enough to understand now, it hadn't been his fault.

He just, he needed some water. That was all. He reached for his glass by the sink, a novelty glass with fading paint: S my's Ultima lic ria. Half the S was gone, too, worn away by his thumb over the years. There was a knock on the door. He dropped the glass.

It shattered.

The door opened. The glass shattered under the sharp, orange light, and now what had been maybe three-quarters of a pizza slice were fragments of cartoon eyeballs on fragments of lumpy yellow background.

Carlos leaned in through the doorway, speaking past a hand over his mouth. "Aww, honey! Are you okay? Oh, I'm so sorry, I know that glass was your favorite, I didn't mean-"

"I know," Cecil said, too quickly. He reached out over the shards. Carlos took his hand tightly, and Cecil's pulse softened, or at least, throbbed less behind his eyes. And then Carlos let go, and blew Cecil an apologetic kiss.

Carlos said, "I'll go grab a broom. And some slippers. Closed-toed footwear is very important for safety. So you stay right where you are until I've got some, okay? Don't move!"

Cecil did move, but it was to lean back and brace himself against the counter. It had been around ten minutes, probably. Three-eleven in the morning. That meant he was never getting his glass back. It had lasted him over thirty-five years. He felt something pulling in his chest, testing the connection between his heart and its vessels.

He would just have to find a new one.

------

The house was quiet without Roger.

The house was quiet with Roger, but it was a different kind of quiet. There were ripples: traffic through the open window. The humming fridge. The sound of the traffic coming in through the open window tearing out the doorway that he had thoughtfully left open for them. But otherwise, the quiet had settled, with no young voice to ask Earl about lunch, or to drive him to meet his friends in the sand wastes.

Roger was at his mother's. Roger's mother had once been Earl's girlfriend, and now they had a custody agreement. It was all amicable.

What had happened was this: Earl had been nineteen for exactly one year. During that year, he had dated a young woman, and they had sex. They used birth control. It worked. They'd graduated college and gone their separate ways. Several years later, after Earl had established himself in an upscale kitchen, they tried again as adults. As independent adults, anyway.

They had sex. They used birth control. It failed. They talked about what to do - if they wanted to let the pregnancy become a child. If she wanted that, most importantly.

She did. And then, they did. They had decent means and familial support. They could make their life work with a child in it, they thought. They turned out to be wrong. They could not make their life work at all, but, in the end, they had made their lives work with a child in it. They were better co-parents than partners.

It was all perfectly amicable, as long as they both remembered that the other existed. It had been that way for as long as Earl remembered now, too. Their lawyers had both had a lot to say to him, regarding the fact that he had picked Roger up for the school year a few years back and never returned.

But there had been a custody agreement, and Earl had always adhered to it perfectly. Hadn't he? He'd asked Roger's mother. Didn't she remember all the time she had spent with their son over the years?

She did. No one asked Roger what he remembered. Earl didn't ask, because he couldn't bear to. He couldn't guess his co-parent's motivation, and it was better not to try. Better to just leave things as amicable.

The Faceless Old Woman had been disappointed by just how amicable it was. She'd wanted some drama. Humans were good at drama, but all that had happened was this: Roger's mother rang the doorbell. Earl clapped his son on the shoulder and asked if he had everything. Roger nodded silently and shrugged his duffel bag up on his shoulder, and he left without saying anything.

The house was usually quiet, even with Roger.

But there was texture, or tension, or there was something, anyway. The Faceless Old Woman had opened the window to let the traffic in as a kind of protest, and to disrupt the specific quiet that settled over the house. Earl closed the window before he left, so that he could lock the door on his way out.

He was an adult with a social life, and time to spend. He had plans that afternoon with an old friend and his husband. They would provide the groceries, the knives, and some labor, because cooking together could be a joyful labor as long as no one was paying you to do it. He would provide the rest of the labor, and his choice of wine.

Several hours later, there was a roast in Cecil and Carlos' oven, gleaming with lead-free glaze that Earl had brushed on just so. Potatoes topped with pencil shaving crust and casserole dish of green beans waited in the warming drawer underneath. The bottle of wine was down about halfway, although not all of that had actually been drunk yet. All three men were feeling pleasant and companionable, not watching a movie while they waited for the roast to finish.

Carlos volunteered to get up to check on it. It took him a minute and three kisses to untangle himself from his husband.

"So, how are things back at your place?" Cecil asked, draped over the armrest of the couch to face Earl. "Enjoying some peace and quiet?"

Earl sipped. He said, "It's quiet."

Cecil straightened. "But you're not enjoying it?"

"Well, I'm not… not enjoying it. But it's different. It's like, I'd just gotten used to things being one way, and now it's another…"

"Oh, yeah, I totally know what you-"

"But that's not true, either. It's been like this for a long time. I mean, I've shared custody of Roger for… for most of my adult life."

"Well, of course. But that doesn't mean it can't be tough," Cecil offered sympathetically.

"Of course?"

"Well… Yeah. Yeah, of course?"

"No. Not of course. Because it's new, isn't it? It's always been this way, but not for long."

Cecil was silent. Cecil was watching the movie, Earl realized.

Earl leaned forward in his chair. "You know what I mean, right? Don't you, Cecil? I can't… That's the only way I can describe it, but you… How would you describe it?"

Cecil picked up his glass, but did not drink. He twirled it between his fingers, and closed his eyes. "I wouldn't. I wouldn't describe it, Earl."

"But that's what you do, right?"

Cecil treated him to an odd half-smile, as if there had ever been a normal one. Here, he saw an out. "Actually, that's more Carlos' territory. I'm just a humble reporter."

"Oh, really?" Earl looked over Cecil's shoulder, as Carlos came back into the room. Cecil looked behind him, and then to Earl again, shaking his head minutely. Earl hesitated as Carlos came around to take his seat. In the end, he took a gulp of his own wine and caught Cecil's eye defiantly. "Hey, Carlos. What do you think?"

Carlos nodded, and began ticking off items on his fingers. "The roast isn't done yet. The sky is a perfect, cloudless blue, and how often does that happen? I'm pretty worried about it. This movie has a lot of scientific inaccuracies, so maybe we could try another?"

Carlos had not heard what they were talking about.

Earl said, "Uh, sure! But that's not what I meant. I meant, what do you think about the fact that, things haven't been the way they've always been for long."

"Always is a fallacy."

"He's right, you know," Cecil marvelled, and kissed Carlos' cheek. "My brilliant scientist…"

"Okay, fine. But, like… Things have been this way for a while. You know, just things. Life. Except, actually, it's been… two months, at most. No. Almost a month and a half."

Carlos took stock of his current sensory input. He could see Earl, still forward in his seat, eager in an almost biting way. He could also feel his husband, the body pressed against his, the fingers wrapped tight around his shoulder.

"I haven't studied that yet, so it would be irresponsible of me to say," Carlos said carefully. "But I think that I like how things are now. I think that maybe I'll study it, but I'd rather enjoy this state of being, this... right now, you know? Than pick it apart."

"I think this is far more entertaining than the movie," the Faceless Old Woman who secretly lived in their home crooned from somewhere above the couch. "But lay off on the insect treatments, okay? I'm running out of snacks."

She was just glad they hadn't gone to a restaurant, or somewhere that was not a home. She'd hoped to keep tabs on the fidgety one, the one who was a mass of sloshing darkness inside, and she could do that just fine here. She could do that in all homes at once. Time had never been her problem.

------

Maureen still lived with her parents, so she joined Michelle at her apartment after work most nights. It was a small place, capturing perfectly the idea of bare bones. Most of the decor that there was, was skull themed. Skull-patterned cushions on a built-it-yourself couch. Skull-patterned bedding.

All the mugs were just skulls with the jaws removed. There were mostly mugs in the kitchen. One plate, a scattering of forks, and Michelle hadn't even filled the hot milk drawer yet. That was millennial life: a floating existence, easy to uproot. She'd have a hot milk drawer one day, if she ever settled down.

Maybe it would be their hot milk drawer. That'd be nice, they both thought, but they didn't know how to approach such a personal subject with each other yet. So they kept bouncing on Michelle's carpet. They were recording a hopcore album together. That was a subject they could handle.

They could also handle the neighbors below them, who were throwing shoes and rocks and occasionally fruit at their ceiling to express their displeasure. Maureen had brought over a tube of wolf spider insulation that night. She had poured it down the vents, and then super-glued the vents shut.

It'd take a few days, Maureen promised, but soon they'd have a lot less editing to do. Maureen was pretty good at editing - she'd had a lot of experiencing working with auditory media, which was exactly why she hated it. So Michelle handled that, but Maureen didn't mind pitching in to lighten the load.

Michelle wouldn't have minded, either way. She liked editing what they made together. She heard it more closely than anyone that way, even Maureen herself. She'd select a tiny clip of their breathing and loop it, under a second, again and again and again and. Until it had been several seconds, and then she pressed delete, and their breathing was gone forever.

Michelle didn't know how to feel about that, but it curdled in her chest, and as long as Maureen stayed with her, she'd have time to figure things out.

They'd just kind of been doing this. Michelle had just locked up the shop, like always, when her phone buzzed. It was Maureen, asking if Michelle wanted to hang. Michelle did, and invited Maureen over. Michelle had gone home, like always, just letting her feet deal with the problem of navigation.

And then, like always, Maureen had been waiting by the door to the apartment.

It had never happened before, and one day, Maureen would have a key, and also not live with her parents anymore. But until that day, meeting Maureen outside was what it meant to come home.

------

The bleachers of the Night Vale High School gymnasium were mostly empty. The Night Vale High wheelchair basketball team was in its off-season, but they were holding a scrimmage that day to stay sharp. It wasn't something that demanded any audience, but it had one. A loose collection of bored siblings tagging along with supportive parents. A few peers trying to look bored, like they were only here for want of anything else to do, although they obviously had crushes on team members.

Cecil, Carlos, Steve, and Abby sat together in the front row. Steve, as assistant coach, occasionally called out encouragement, or a suggestion here and there. Cecil, as a doting uncle, did the same. Whenever a husband jumped up to offer their input, Abby and Carlos, leaning back on the bleachers, shared a smile.

Congratulations were in order after the game, of course. Janice high-fived her parents and uncles before heading to the locker room. Carlos volunteered to grab some snacks from the vending machine; it was still early and warm, and the gators would be too busy sunning themselves by the doors to be an effective barrier.

Abby left to bring the car around, in part just because she could, just to enjoy the knowledge that she could leave her husband and brother in the same room, and no one would get hurt.

"Hard to believe she's gonna be graduating in a year." Steve shook his head. "They grow up so fast."

Cecil was actually silent as they left the gym. "Oh, god! She is. Wow. Well, she's growing into a great young woman."

"Uh-huh. She's got a lot of great people to look up to. Her mother's a real winner. And her uncles aren't half-bad, either." Steve chuckled. He often did this.

"Yes, well. Her dad is also… a good guy." Cecil said, after clearing his throat. Steve often chuckled, and this still annoyed him. God, it was so annoying. But Steve was a good guy, and more importantly: "A really solid dad, yup."

"We do the best we can with the time we've got. Just gotta hope it's enough."

"Is it ever?"

The hallway was empty, choked with the absence of students and teachers. Their steps echoed off the lockers.

Steve got the point. "No. I guess not."

Cecil thought about Janice. She had grown and changed so much. That was what childhood was. There was no stillness in childhood. She was hurtling, always, at speeds that would have made him sick now. He had done the same thing, but.

It just all felt impossible. He'd been a community radio show host since before she was even born, and he would stay that way until someone pried the microphone from his cold, dead hands. Probably, this would happen literally. That was exactly what he wanted.

It had been what he wanted, once. He had been a community radio show host for twenty-five years, and yes, he would stay that way. So, nothing changed. Or, everything did, and he couldn't understand or follow along in any meaningful way. He just reported on it.

Soon, his niece would be graduating high school. But he would still be a radio host. His purpose would not change. His identity would not change. There was something in his chest, pulling. Something testing the connection between his heart and its vessels.

He could just say: nothing will change. This is how it is , until that was true.

"Hey, are you doing okay? You're pretty quiet."

"What?" And then, realizing the question left a gap Cecil did not want to fill, he said, "Uh, yeah, I'm fine."

"Okay. You're just not usually quiet."

"I am perfectly capable of being quiet, Steve."

He was. He could be quiet. Sometimes, he even liked it. Curled up on the couch next to his husband, Carlos pressing idle kisses over his collarbone, his head tipped up to invite them. Quiet in the middle of a movie, or when they read on their phones before bed.

Quiet at the dinner table, as he and Carlos delighted in Earl's cooking too much to compliment it right away.

Quiet listening to Michelle's newest apiary arrangement, which she most certainly did not want his old-fashioned opinion of.

Quiet, rapt in the audience of Janice's third ballet fight, the last before she'd given it up for basketball captaincy.

And even in his studio, waiting for the weather to finish.

They left the high school, and stepped into the bright afternoon. Carlos was already waiting outside with packages of gator jerky and orange juice. Cecil took some snacks, mostly to free his husband's hand for holding. He kissed Carlos on the cheek, and thought, I want this , so he kissed Carlos again, and then Carlos kissed him, and that frantic pull in his chest snapped. There was something spreading inside of him, a liquid sensation like internal bleeding, but freeing.

His identity would not change, nor would it be limited. He could be a radio host, and not only that. With time, he would learn what else.

------

Cecil cleared their table at Big Rico's while Carlos settled the check. When the scientist came back, he set down something new. It was a novelty glass. The paint was crisp and bright. The motto, "No one does a slice like Big Rico. No one," was printed on it, where Big Rico was written in the logo font.

"Here, babe. I got this for you."

"Ooh, Carlos! I love it, aw! Thank you!"

"Of course. I mean, it's just to replace the one that broke."

"Yeah, but it's from you. That means… everything."

Actually, he could find a metaphor in it. That was his territory, more than description. He could draw a line, a narrative arc, from what had broken to what he held in his hands now. Something old and faded and certainly serviceable, but just not representative of where he ate lunch anymore, much less who he was.

Also, Carlos had gotten it for him. So, seriously. Cecil loved it.

"As long as you like it."

"I do. I love it." Cecil held the gift to his chest in both hands, and kissed Carlos with it still between them.

Then he thought the better of it, and broke off long enough to set it down. It needed to at least make it home with them. They kissed again, not for long, but embracing fully this time. They gathered up the leftovers, and Cecil held the door for Carlos on the way out.

"After you, Doctor!"

He really did have a brilliant husband, after all. Always was a fallacy. They were now, and that was enough.

#welcome to night vale #wtnv #wtnv fanfic #cecilos #cecil palmer #carlos the scientist #wtnv spoilers #this one has a lot of characters actually #my fanfic

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