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whiteqnn · 4 years ago

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PURE [4] - Corpse Husband x Fem! Reader

A/N: I’m back. Shout-out to my sister @mojajasnoscmrokirozproszy , who encouraged me into finishing this part.

part 1

part 2

part 3

part 5

PURE [4]

Corpse was confused, to say the least. He stared at the screen with his brows furrowed, not exactly understanding what just happened, or what caused Y/N to leave so suddenly. He thought they were all having fun, or at least that’s the impression Y/N gave while interacting with other players.

Was she just pretending she’d had fun when in reality, she didn’t want to spend time with them?

He knew it was none of his business. They didn’t even know each other, outside of these two short games they’ve both been part of. But Corpse was quick to get attached to new people, and Y/N’s sweet voice, her innocent demeanor, and pure personality made him instantly like her...

Perhaps it wasn’t exactly a good thing that he felt so worried when she left, given the fact that two of them have spoken maybe for a few minutes since they met each other. But Corpse couldn’t help it, and certainly couldn’t stop this weird feeling that something was wrong and that he needed to make sure that Y/N was okay. After all, he was the only one who knew that she left. Except for his audience, of course.

So the moment her white little astronaut suddenly disappeared, Corpse went on a killing spree. He didn’t even care about that whole finish my lyrics thing he decided to terrorize his friends with, he just wanted to finish this game and check on Y/N. It was obvious that she wasn’t telling the truth. Even though it looked like she was trying really hard to contain her emotions, he could still hear her quavering voice. It was too hard to hide, and he knew it firsthand. That’s why he made it his point to at least check on her.

“Jesus Corpse, you just went full berserk on us...” Felix murmured when the last person was killed, and Corpse could see a sign victory on his screen. It didn’t make him smile though, not how it usually would.

“It was great though! Let’s do it again, but maybe on the other map?” Sykkuno suggested, clearly very excited about this hide and seek game they’ve come up with.

“Sure, let’s get the first one maybe?”

“Actually, would you guys mind if we had a little break?” Corpse asked before they could start another game. “We’ve been playing for a little while now...”

“Ah, yeah! Bathroom break!” came Rae’s response, followed by a few hums of approval. Corpse sighed in relief. He was afraid his worried voice would draw the attention of other players, but they didn’t seem to notice it.

“All right, is ten minutes good?” asked Sean, and when everyone agreed, Corpse excused himself from his audience and muted his mic. He grabbed his phone and unlocked it, only to be hit by a sudden realization.

He didn’t even have Y/N’s number.

“Fuck...” he cursed quietly under his breath, running a hand through his hair. How the fuck was he supposed to check on her? He couldn’t use discord, he was still streaming after all... Maybe Twitter would work? Nah, she probably wouldn’t even notice his messages. What was left then?

Of course.

Sean.

Corpse didn’t even think about any explanation as he quickly typed in a message to the said man, asking if he had Y/N’s number. The response came almost immediately.

“Yeah, I have. Why?”

Okay, now what? He couldn’t just tell him what happened. Corpse knew that Sean and Y/N were close, but he felt like it wouldn’t be fair towards the girl if he told Sean what happened. Maybe she didn’t want anyone to know... Maybe she didn’t want to speak to anyone.

Him included.

But Corpse felt as if he had to do it because that was something he wished someone would do for him if the roles were reversed. To at least show that he cared, that she wasn’t alone with whatever it was that bothered her...

Was he being intrusive, for wanting to make sure that everything was okay? And what if she was totally fine and he’d just end up making a complete fool out of himself?

“Not that I haven’t already made a fool out of myself...” he mumbled under his breath, his fingers quickly typing the response to Sean. However, before he could finish it, the said man’s name appeared on his screen with an upcoming call.

It was so unexpected that Corpse almost dropped the phone.

“Um, hey man” he said after picking up, his hands trembling as he tried to come up with some good explanation as to why exactly he needed Y/N’s number. “Look I-”

“Does this have something to do with her disappearance?” Sean cut him off, leaving Corpse with his mouth hung open, utterly shocked.

“I um- no. I just wanted to call her and... cause I don’t have her number...”

“Corpse, I heard what she had told you...” Sean sighed into the phone “I was flying around you after you murdered me.”

“I...” Corpse tried once again and again found himself at the loss of words. His brows furrowed suddenly as he realized something “Wait- are you still streaming?”

“I left for a moment to grab something to drink and call Y/N. Don’t worry, I wouldn’t say anything on the stream.”

Corpse sighed in relief. If Sean managed to somehow play it off, then his fans maybe haven’t figured out what was going on. He didn’t want them to attack Y/N’s social media with tons of questions she obviously wouldn’t answer.

“Do you know what happened?” Corpse asked quietly, hoping that maybe Sean knew something more that would ease his nerves. He hoped that it wasn’t anything serious, that maybe Y/N just had a bad day. “She left so suddenly and I got a little worried...”

For a moment there was silence between the two of them, Corpse impatiently awaiting an answer and Sean thinking about the right words... or wondering whether he should tell him the reason for Y/N’s disappearance in the first place.

“It’s- ugh.” Sean groaned, before letting out a heavy sigh “It stays between us, all right? I don’t want others to start texting her out of nowhere, asking if she’s okay. She would probably kill me.”

“Yeah, absolutely” Corpse nodded his head rapidly, even though Sean couldn’t see him.

“Okay... So I don’t know the exact reason of her disappearance...” he began, and Corpse felt his heart sink in disappointment. “But I have some suspicion.”

“Can you be a little more specific, Sean? We don’t have much time before the next game...” Corpse didn’t want to sound rude but he was slowly growing impatient, and even more nervous when he still wasn’t able to check on Y/N and make sure that she’s okay.

“She received lots of hate after our last stream.” Sean finally explained, although his voice sounded quite reluctant. “And when I say lots, I mean lots, Corpse.”

“What?” Corpse grunted, his brows knitted together in confusion “What do you mean?”

“Oh you know, man... Comments on Twitter, on her Instagram, even under her latest video...” Sean let out an exasperated sigh “Apparently, some people are not happy that she’s playing with us.”

“Why?” Corpse managed to utter, completely shocked at the news. For some reason, it was the last thing he expected Sean to say. It didn’t even cross his mind that someone as sweet and polite as Y/N might have to deal with this kind of issue.

She was always so kind, why would anyone hate on her?

“You know how some people act online...” Sean murmured, his voice clearly gloomy, as opposed to his usual cheerful tone. “They think she shouldn’t be playing with us cause she’s not popular enough. Some consider her annoying, not funny enough, and so on...”

“What does popularity have to do with who we’re playing with?” Corpse almost growled these words, feeling anger slowly bubbling up in his stomach. He couldn’t comprehend why anyone would act this way towards Y/N, towards this little angel as Sean put it last time they played, towards this sweet, innocent girl, his partner in crime...

“That’s what I told her before the stream” Sean explained with a sigh “And that she shouldn’t worry about what strangers think of her... but it’s easier said than done.”

“You think she received another text or something?”

“I don’t know man” Sean sighed “I tried calling her like ten times already and she didn’t answer. It’s not like her to leave so suddenly, without saying goodbye. I’m worried something happened...”

Corpse clenched his jaw, closing his eyes for a second. If Y/N didn’t answer Sean’s calls, why would she answer his? They barely knew each other, while Sean was her best friend.

“Maybe... I’ll try calling her?” Corpse suggested anyway, his voice low and almost shy. He figured it was worth at least a try.

Sean was quiet for a moment as if contemplating what to do. They were already running out of time, and Corpse didn’t know what to do. On one hand, he didn’t want to end the stream and leave his fans, he felt bad at the thought alone of disappearing so soon and disappointing them... But on the other, he couldn’t just leave Y/N like that. Especially, since as Sean explained, it wasn’t like her to act this way. It only proved that whatever happened was rather serious.

“Y’know what?” Sean suddenly said “I’ll give you her number, maybe she’ll pick up from you.”

“Thank you, Sean” Corpse said quietly, ready to end the call, only to be stopped by Sean’s words.

“Look... I know I shouldn’t be asking you to do it, but... could you maybe try talking some sense into her?” he asked, clearly uncomfortable with this request “I feel like you’d be able to calm her down...”

“I...” Corpse stuttered, running a hand through his hair “I’ll try, okay? I’m not sure if she’ll want to talk about it though, I’m basically a stranger, so...”

“Corpse, she agreed to join us only after reading your last tweet.”

Oh.

His heart fluttered with something that didn’t seem like growing panic. And even though his face was expressing his worry, his lip corners formed a small, bashful smile. And whether he liked it or not, his cheeks turned completely red.

“I’ll... I’ll see what I can do” he managed to reply, before ending the call.

Corpse ran a hand through his locks and down his face, releasing a heavy breath he didn’t know he was holding. He considered getting Y/N’s number a difficult task which, however, turned out to be the easiest one. Now came the real challenge. Calling her.

For a moment, he just stared at the screen of his phone, scanning the new message from Sean, which consisted of Y/N’s phone number. It looked as if he was memorizing the number when in reality, he just felt panic overtaking his body and complete chaos in his mind.

Let’s say she picks up the phone, and then what? Should he just say hi? Introduce himself?

“Hi it’s me, the guy you basically don’t know and who became paranoid after you disappeared from the game”

Yeah, sure. Perfect introduction for the pep talk he was supposed to deliver.

Why was it always that he acted almost as if on instinct one second, only to start having second thoughts a moment later. He couldn’t back out now when he had already got her number. Not when there was also another person counting on him. Not when he still didn’t know what the fuck happened, and for some reason was determined to find out.

And then was the problem of his voice, which suddenly seemed stuck in his throat. It was a very weird feeling, typical for one to get while being on the verge of a panic attack. As if there was a need to talk, but the body refused to. As if his vocal cords were paralyzed and not eager to cooperate.

As if it was him who just experienced something strongly upsetting, not Y/N.

Corpse fidgeted with his phone for a moment, before deciding against the idea of calling the girl. He figured he wouldn’t be able to utter a single word if she picked up the phone from the unknown number in the first place. If she did though, she’d probably consider it some misdialed call or some prank. Which was the last thing he wanted her to think.

Instead, he opted on sending her a text.

He sat still for a moment, thinking about a message that wouldn’t right away reveal the cause of his concern, but which would say enough to figure out who sent it. His thoughts drifted back to the game they were both playing, remembering his stupid comments and her gentle voice. His fingers typed out the message almost automatically.

“Wanna jump into the lava with me?”

He hesitated just for a second, before sending the text, his heart doing a backflip in his chest the moment he pressed the send button. Corpse gripped the phone tightly in his hands, his eyes staring at the screen and waiting impatiently for those three little dots indicating that the other person is typing a response to appear. He waited and waited, and a lump slowly formed in his throat when Y/N didn’t respond immediately.

Was he really getting paranoid?

Maybe he was just tired. Or she had a bad day. Or she just found this game boring.

Or she didn’t want to play with them. Or she thought his comments were annoying.

“I’m an idiot” Corpse muttered to himself and slapped a hand on his forehead, pushing those thoughts away. Deep down he knew that wasn’t the case, but the longer Y/N didn’t respond, the louder was the voice at the back of his head, telling him that her problems were none of his business and he shouldn’t be asking for her number in the first place.

But it was the right thing to do. He knew it, Sean knew it, and Corpse also hoped that Y/N did not perceive his text as some pathetic joke. He waited for a couple of minutes, before typing another message:

“I’m here, partner, if you need to talk.”

He felt the need to assure her that despite the ongoing stream and the other players probably already waiting for him to return, he was there for her. That’s what he considered the best option, not to force her into talking, but to let her know that she wasn’t alone. And that it would take just one word from her to make Corpse drop everything and listen to her.

After what seemed like an eternity of staring at his phone and analyzing his own messages, Corpse put his phone away, realizing that Y/N wasn’t going to reply anytime soon. He couldn’t help but feel disappointed in himself, and guilty as well. Perhaps it would be a better idea to call her, but at that moment he wasn’t able to trust his own voice. He thought about sending her another message but decided against it. Another new text was probably the last thing she needed, with her phone being drowned by hundreds of notifications from angered, and worried fans.

All Corpse could do was hope that she saw his texts and that she knew she wasn’t all alone. He sure as hell wasn’t going to make her feel as if she was obliged to confide in him. After all, he was a stranger.

Then again... sometimes to understand a problem and look at it from a different, new perspective, what one needed was, indeed, a complete stranger.

The next two hours felt almost like an eternity. And a complete hell to Corpse. He tried his best to focus on the game and interacting with his fans, but no matter what, his eyes would drift towards his phone every now and then. Hoping to see Y/N’s name pop up on his screen, with a message saying that everything was fine.

But then again... would it be enough to calm his nerves? Maybe she’d write something like that just so he wouldn’t worry. Just so he would leave her alone.

She might as well just tell him to fuck off...

The fact that he received so many notifications all the time, especially now, during a stream, didn’t really help. Each time his phone lit up with a new notification, he would crane his neck with the hope of seeing Y/N’s response, only to be disappointed when it turned out to be just some new comment or someone tagging him in an instastory. Something that usually made him really happy now was the reason for his irritation.

He couldn’t focus on the game itself either, finding it difficult to do his tasks and form some logical arguments during discussions. He didn’t really care, to be honest, when people threw him away almost at the start of the game. Winning or being the best Impostor was currently the last thing on his mind.

So when he said his goodbyes after the last round of Among Us and ended the stream, after thanking his fans, Corpse didn’t know what to do with himself. The game, even though he didn’t really pay much attention to it, provided at least some distraction from his phone, which was still silent when it came to Y/N’s texts. She either didn’t see them or didn’t want to see them. Corpse could only guess what was her reaction if there was any.

He’d exchanged a few messages with Sean though, the man asking about Y/N during the stream and after it ended. Corpse couldn’t stop the guilt from growing even more when Sean expressed his concerns regarding Y/N and her absence. He knew the older streamer counted on him when it came to checking on the girl, but, obviously, he failed at getting a simple message from her.

What was he even hoping to achieve in the first place? That she will text back right away, telling him everything that bothered her, confessing all her problems? He would have to be a total idiot to expect this girl to react to his messages.

It was all so overwhelming and frustrating at the same time that he felt almost nauseous.

Leaving his phone in his room, Corpse walked to his small kitchen to grab a glass of water. The cold liquid brought much-needed relief to his burning throat, giving him a momentary sensation of comfort. He tested his voice, clearing his throat carefully and mumbling some nonsense under his breath. A sigh left his lips once he realized he could talk again and this weird feeling disappeared.

He splashed his face with cold water and returned to his room, plopping down on his chair and giving his phone a quick glance. Perhaps he didn’t expect Y/N to reply to his texts at all because at first, he didn’t even notice her name on the screen of his phone. He looked back to his computer, almost out of habit, glancing between the tabs he had opened on his screen before.

And it struck him suddenly, making him almost jump out of his skin when he realized that she did text him back.

Grabbing his phone quickly, he unlocked it and opened the messages, almost hitting the one with Y/N’s name on it.

“Hey, partner.” was all the message said. And yet it made Corpse’s heart almost jump out of his chest, both from relief and a sudden feeling of panic.

She texted him back. Now, what the fuck was he supposed to do?!

He stared at her text for a second as if trying to convince himself that it was real and he didn’t accidentally pass out on his desk, dreaming that Y/N takes his comments and texts seriously.

When he came to the conclusion that the text was, indeed, real, and Y/N probably expected him to write something back, he thought about the best way of asking her what happened. On one hand, he knew from Sean what could possibly be the reason for her disappearance. On the other, what obviously mattered was Y/N’s version. How to get it out of her though, without being too intrusive?

Corpse decided that the best option will be to make some dumb, small talk, which would ease her (and his) nerves.

“Y’know, I almost didn’t manage to finish the mission without you” he texted her, concluding that playing along this partner thing would maybe work. In his text, Corpse referred to the one time he was the Impostor after Y/N left, and which happened to be completely boring without her running around “Had Toast and others suspecting my every step all the time.”

This time, much to his relief, the three little dots appeared almost immediately.

“I’m glad you managed to kill’em all nevertheless.”

He imagined her saying it with that sweet voice of hers, which made him snicker, whether he liked it or not. While thinking of some right response, Corpse couldn’t help but wonder how did she know that he managed to kill every crewmate during that round... she wasn’t playing anymore then, so that could only mean she watched his stream.

“Not gonna lie though, everything would go way smoother hadn’t my partner in crime left me on the battlefield all alone :/” he texted her back. Corpse watched intently as the three dots danced next to Y/N’s name and suddenly disappeared, then appeared back again after a few moments, only to disappear again. And for a second he panicked, that maybe this text sounded passive aggressive, or that it made Y/N blame herself for leaving the game...

However, when her response finally came, he realized he was wrong.

“Can I call you, Corpse?”

For the first time in a really long time, Corpse was so eager to agree on a phone call.

He replied frantically, telling her that of course, she could call him, and then waiting impatiently for the call. And when she didn’t call immediately, like he expected her to, he found himself wondering if she suddenly changed her mind and decided against the idea of calling him.

But then his phone buzzed and her name appeared on the screen.

The device almost flew out of his hands, his heartbeat quickening and a lump forming in his throat once again.

Relax, man. It’s Y/N, your partner in crime. You’ve heard her voice before.

But this was different. The circumstances were different and the reason for a call was different too. And now it was just the two of them, as opposed to a lobby full of friends. And Corpse tried so hard to figure out how to convince her that all the hate she receives on social media didn’t mean anything, that for a moment he forgot she was still calling.

He pressed the green button carefully, as if he was defusing a bomb, and found himself unable to utter a single word, just like before. There was silence on the other line too, as if Y/N expected him to speak up first.

So Corpse build up the courage and took in a deep breath, before letting out a quiet, almost shy:

“Hi”

The word left his mouth almost as a whisper, and for a moment he thought that the girl didn’t even hear it, but then her voice told him otherwise.

“Hey... Corpse” she mumbled. She sounded so different, almost as if she was sick. Her calm and soft voice was so quiet that Corpse had some trouble hearing her at first. She sounded so tired, so hurt, so defeated, that he completely forgot every advice he had managed to stock in his mind before this call.

“It’s good to hear you, partner.” he said after a moment, realizing that asking what’s wrong wasn’t the best thing he could do at that moment. He felt that she’d probably hung up on him if he did... “I didn’t think I’d hear from you after you aborted the mission.”

He heard her sigh out a laugh at his words, his tone playfully accusatory. The girl cleared her throat and wondered for a second, before replying:

“It wasn’t exactly my mission... And if I remember correctly, you were the one who broke our partnership, chasing me around the ship.”

He could almost hear the smile behind her words, which made his lip corners curl up slightly. He was glad she still managed to joke with him. It meant that, perhaps, it wasn’t that bad.

“Did I kill you, though?”

“You would if you had a chance.”

“I had plenty of chances Y/N, and I never took one” he replied right away with a chuckle. “I may be the murderer, but I’m no traitor.”

“You say that after luring me to that lava pit and killing me and Sykkuno? It was a trap all along, wasn’t it?” she asked suspiciously, but he knew she was joking “I bet you were conspiring with MrBeast all this time...”

“How dare you” he scoffed, trying to hold back his chuckle “I took you there cause it’s a special place, it was no trap! It just happened to be the wrong place and the wrong time...”

“Sure, partner”

“I’m serious!” he laughed “Besides - I apologized, and if I remember correctly, I think we both agreed that I jumped into that lava pit for you after all...”

“After they voted you off! You didn’t have any other chance!”

“Maybe it was all planned?” he said, changing his voice to more mysterious “Maybe I conspired with MrBeast so I could jump into that lava pit... and the only way to do it is by being voted off. So, either way, I kept my word.”

“Fine... whatever.”

Their laughter died down and was replaced by surprisingly comfortable silence. Corpse was happy with how the conversation started - he believed it would be easier for Y/N to explain what happened now, if she wished to explain, of course.

“Y’know...” he began after a second, deciding to change the subject and finally address the issue. “Partners are supposed to help each other... and be there when the other person is in need...”

He was careful with his words, being full aware that Y/N might find it uncomfortable to share her problems with him. He wanted to encourage her, just slightly, if his previous texts weren’t enough.

She sighed quietly and he could sense her reluctance.

“But only if the other person wants partner’s help.” he added after a moment, keeping his voice as soft as he could. Y/N didn’t respond right away, but she didn’t hang up either, which Corpse took as a good sign. He gave her a couple of seconds to collect her thoughts, before asking another question:

“What made you so upset, Y/N/N?”

He could hear her inhale the air sharply as if she had trouble breathing steadily. The line went silent, not that Corpse was surprised. He waited patiently, giving the girl the time she needed to decide whether she wanted to answer that question and what words should she choose if she did.

And when she finally spoke up, Corpse felt as if his heart could break.

“They are just so mean...” she almost whispered, her voice cracking. He didn’t have to ask whom she meant, it was obvious. “And I don’t even know why... I didn’t do anything to those people, and yet they are so mean towards me.”

Corpse hummed in response, allowing her to keep talking. If there was one thing he knew that helped coping with stress, it was sharing it with someone else. And even though he himself had a lot on his plate, he felt the need to be that someone for Y/N.

“I... I don’t want you to think that I’m some crybaby, who takes everything super seriously and can’t take a joke, but...” she stuttered for a moment and Corpse fought the urge to cut her off and tell her that what he thinks of her is the complete opposite. “But those comments... those weren’t jokes, Corpse. I don’t think anyone would find them funny.”

His heart ached at the sound of her quiet, weak voice. And then it angered him, that some anonymous haters managed to upset this cheerful, innocent person. How could anyone do something like that to Y/N?

“I... I’m sorry for telling you this...” she suddenly trailed off, sounding rather awkward and uncomfortable. “I shouldn’t be bothering you with my silly problems...”

“They aren’t silly as long as they are problems to you, Y/N.”

“Yeah, but... I’m sure everyone from the group has received such comments at some point of their career... or maybe they still receive them...” she murmured almost embarrassed. “Maybe it’s no such a big deal after all...”

“Let me ask you something” Corpse said, feeling anger bubbling up in his stomach. Not directed at Y/N, of course, but at the people who made her think this way. “Imagine that someone, let’s say me, calls you because of the same reason. Would you consider telling me that online hate, or any hate for that matter, is not a big deal? That those are just my silly problems”

She was silent for a moment, thinking about his question, and probably not expecting it in the first place. However, after a few seconds of initial surprise, she replied firmly:

“Of course not.”

“Then why are you trying to convince yourself that they are?” he asked in what would sound like an accusatory tone, but in reality was just his voice laced with worry. “There’s no such thing as a silly problem Y/N, as long as it bothers you. If you consider it a problem, then it is a problem. And the fact that other people receive similar, or even worse comments, doesn’t mean anything. Maybe just that they are longer on Youtube and they’ve learned to deal with this kind of stuff... And your reaction? It doesn’t make you a crybaby and please Y/N, don’t ever think that way about yourself.”

He said it all so quickly and almost on one breath, letting all his frustration out and trying to form his babbling into some logical statement.

“I understand what you’re going through...” he confessed after a moment of silence between them. “I know what it’s like to go through the ocean of positive comments and find those few which say something completely different... something that is meant to hurt you and humiliate you... Something that ruins your day, or even a couple of next few days or weeks... Something that completely overshadows everything else you’ve read about yourself. Something that people write from the safety of their own computers or phones, without showing their faces and remaining completely anonymous.”

For a moment, Corpse allowed himself to speak about his own experience, thinking that maybe when Y/N realizes that he knew exactly what she was dealing with, it would make it easier for her. “And that is the key fact, Y/N, that they are anonymous. They do what they do because no one can see them because it is comfortable for them to leave a hate comment and not face any consequences. Because they don’t have to face the person their hate is directed towards.”

“Some of the accounts were not anonymous...” Y/N mumbled, and Corpse could clearly hear that she was speaking through the tears. “People were using their public accounts, with photos and everything...”

“But let me guess, those comments weren’t even about your videos, huh? They weren’t about any of your work?”

“Well...” she whispered, thinking about Corpse’s question. “Truth to be said, no. Most of them just looked like some kind of a personal attack on me...”

“Exactly. It’s not even criticism, it’s just plain bullshit cowards are sharing online. They probably aren’t even able to form some logical sentence, they just combine some random words which are supposed to hurt you.”

“It works...”

“Y/N...” Corpse sighed into the phone, hearing her defeated tone. “Let me ask you another question, okay?” she hummed in response, and Corpse cleared his throat. “Tell me, whose opinion matters to you the most?”

“My friends... and my fans’“she said.

“Okay.. and whom do you consider your fan?”

“Someone who finds the content I create interesting and entertaining and takes his time to watch my videos.” she replied right away.

“Okay. Do you think that people who left those comments took their time to even watch your videos?”

“Probably not...” she replied after a second. “Look, I know what you mean Corpse... That I shouldn’t worry about it because they are not my fans and therefore their opinion shouldn’t matter... but that’s not the case. It’s the fact alone that for some reason people spend their time hating me when I didn’t even do anything to them.”

“You didn’t do anything to them.” Corpse repeated her own words in his deep voice. “And they didn’t watch your videos. It seems like they don’t have any reason to leave those comments, right?” he asked. “I know that it’s hard Y/N, I really do, but the truth is, you can’t really have everyone leaving positive feedback under your content... There will always be someone who will consider it a good idea to send you a hateful message, just because they can, not because they have any specific reason to. Now I don’t say that’s okay... but it’s in a way like some disease. The one there’s no cure for. Even though you can’t cure it, you can make yourself immune.”

“How, Corpse? How do you make yourself immune to messages saying that you’re a fucking annoying bitch, that you don’t deserve what you have? That you don’t deserve your friends, and you are not good enough to play with them? To spend your time with them? How do you deal with comments suggesting that you should go and kill yourself, because you’re not famous enough, and you will never be?”

Her voice suddenly rose, and Corpse felt as his heartbeat quickened with each comment she described. He gripped his hand around the phone, his knuckles turning white and his brows furrowing in an expression of pure fury.

He considered her words for a moment, trying to come up with the best advice, but realized there wasn’t any that would satisfy her. He could imagine the state she was in, she probably wouldn’t take any of his advice seriously. And he wouldn’t blame her for that.

“I’m sorry for snapping on you...” she suddenly said, her voice back to its soft tone. “It’s just too much for me to handle...”

“It’s all good, Y/N, don’t apologize. You have the full right to be angry and to show it. I just want you to remember that...” Corpse gulped the lump in his throat, feeling his cheeks getting warmer. “Those comments are not what define you. As a matter of fact, they’re not even about you. You know why? Because people who write them don’t know you. They don’t even take a moment to acknowledge what an intelligent and talented person you are, not to mention how kind... but I do. A-and everyone else too.”

She was silent for a moment, and Corpse panicked, that maybe he said too much, or made things awkward again. But then she spoke up, her slightly less weak than before.

“I suppose... maybe you’re right, Corpse.” she said, still sounding a little bit unconvinced. He understood, it was clear his one pep talk wouldn’t suddenly make her forget about it. It would be like telling a person with depression to stop having depression and expecting them to suddenly feel better. “Thank you. For listening to my pathetic babbling... and for not telling me to just pull myself together.”

“First of all, your babbling is not pathetic...” he began “Second of all... I know we don’t really know each other, but... If you ever feel the need to talk to someone, I’m here.”

“And for that I’m grateful, Corpse” she said, clearly smiling. “Sorry, I mean, partner.”

“Partner.” he chuckled into the phone, smiling from ear to ear.

“It’s getting late...” she yawned into the phone. “Sorry. I think I’ll go to sleep, I’m really tired...”

“Of course” Corpse replied, hiding the disappointment in his voice. He really enjoyed talking to her, just to her alone, but he understood that the whole conversation and the event preceding it probably exhausted her.

“Hey...” she suddenly said, and Corpse could swear that her voice sounded as if she unexpectedly became shy. “Um... it was really great talking to you, you’re a really good listener, Corpse.”

“Glad to hear that” he smiled happily.

“Um... would you mind if I called you tomorrow too?” she asked so quietly that he almost didn’t catch it, his breath hitching in his throat. “If you have time that is... if you don’t, or if you have some super plans, then I understand, it’s fine-”

“I don’t have any super plans, Y/N” he couldn’t help but chuckle, finding her nervous banter adorable. “Call me whenever you want.”

“Okay...” she sighed, almost in relief, but Corpse didn’t want to point it out to embarrass her even more. “So... let’s say, around 2 pm?”

“Sounds good to me.”

“Great.” she said, her voice trailing off a bit. “I’m falling asleep here, Corpse... Thank you once again, for everything.”

“Anytime, Y/N.”

“Good night, partner.”

“Goodnight, partner.”

Part 5 coming soon. It will probably be the last part of this series, I’m not sure yet though.

TAG LIST FOR PURE IS CLOSED.

TAG LIST FOR CORPSE REQUESTS/OTHER FICS IS OPEN (if you want to be tagged, please send me a text)

@slytherin-chan @pillowjj @afuckingunicornn @love-and-virtues @ignooynim @crapimahuman @hannahjsworld @laugh-like-the-moon @fallengoddess772 @kingric03 @dolphinpink310 @paigeyisme @bunnychano3o @dxrtygxrl28 @z-nyx @baby-iyania @trashygeek @qmalley @yn-dreamlife @queenshadow142003 @daughterofsmokeandbone23 @my-little-art-world99 @yoongi-holland @rinarecommends @psychoticunicornsblog @goldensunshinestyle @unstableye @pastelvixenbeauty @weallneednamjesus @benakenalove @corpsesimpp @xenos-sonex @jellicorn05 @must-be-a-weasley-92 @keijikunn @infinitely-kate @thisshitisfuckingdifficult @summerbbygirl @mygirlviolet @eat-your-veggies @evans-dejong @jeffxx @weepingdonuthumancookie @myinnergayistakingover @i-love-scott-mccall @thecanterburywitch @annshit @blood-of-fandoms @namjoons-crabssss @guadu-chan @harleyharleycrow @stormyskys13 @soft4kei @ukai-hoe @that-chick212 @campcampie @cookiewhoree @ukiyolixx @princess-skate @newtaholic-staygold @unknown-and-invisible @cherry-piee @marvelenthusiast3000 @apples-of-february @lovelybrit @wineandionysus @faepetersen @vincent-stargogh @idalinette @ggsmashgg @browneyespinkhair @uwucorpse @fluffylittellama-blog @yoshigguk @queentorresstuff @becihadshawn @winged-reader @x3musicismylife @musubipost @missdox @honeyames @dark-o-room @izthefangirl @l0verl0ser @laurenfangirlsout @asianfrustration13 @hopelessfluff @sacrifice-me-please @stopicouldhaavedroppedmycrossant @sleepingalaska @strangenerdsstuff @otakuartist05 @blossom-702 @astream-ofconsciousness @mythicalamphitrite @infinitelycharmed23 @ s1utforfictionalcharacters @ abrokenlink @ lestrangeesme @laazullii @ avesagittarius @ smiithys

#corpse husband x reader #corpse husband #imagine #corpse x reader #youtubers x reader #corpse husband imagine #corpse husband imagines #fanfiction

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nonbinary-octopus · 5 years ago

Text

A Very Unusual Visitor

I really love @kieraelieson’s Tiny Tenants AU, and the other day, I sent her an ask: you know what. I am filled with soft gt longing. I want to be tiny and friends with your Tiny Tenants Logan. I want him to hold me and fiddle gently with me and let me sleep in his pocket. Virgil’s got a good thing going on here!

This is a story about that. More or less.

Wordcount: 2.2 K

[More of my writing]

~~~~~

Logan sat down at his desk, intending to read. However, as he glanced over the wooden surface, his gaze fell on a small form. A borrower. And an unfamiliar one, too. Logan thought he knew all of the borrowers living in his house— Virgil, with whom he believed he could confidently say he was friends, and the much more timid Patton and Dee, and Dee’s young charges, the twins Roman and Remus, who were doing their best to be friends with Logan too, despite their guardian’s wishes to keep him away from them.

This borrower was not any of those. The easiest difference to recognize at a glance was that they had red hair, where the others had shades of brown and black. Yet, despite Logan never having even caught a glimpse of them before, here they were, sitting calmly on his desk, as if they were waiting for him.

“Um,” Logan said, surprised. “Hello?”

The little borrower grinned, looking up at him, and got to their feet. “Hello! You must be Logan, right?”

Logan nodded. Perhaps this borrower had just moved in? The others would have told them about Logan, and Virgil probably would have told them that he was trying his best to be the good kind of human, and wasn’t to be feared. But even so, Logan would never have expected a borrower to be so comfortable around him this quickly. Unless they had been around for some time, watching, and only just now came out to introduce theirself, after they’d felt reasonably sure that Logan was nonthreatening. But then why would they need confirmation on who he was? Unless it was just smalltalk to get the conversation going.

“I’m Hann,” the borrower continued, sticking their hand out at Logan. He recognized the gesture, of course, but had never shook hands with a borrower before. Logan lifted his own hand, trying to figure out how he was supposed to shake the hand of someone who could fit entirely in his hand with room to spare. The borrower didn’t even flinch, still looking up at him expectantly.

Gently, Logan pinched their hand between his thumb and the first knuckle of his pointer finger, lifted it minutely, lowered it again, and then let go, pulling his hand back.

“It is… nice to meet you, Hann,” Logan said. “If extremely unexpected.”

“Sorry,” Hann said, looking at their hand and flexing it. “I didn’t really bother to think of a more plausible introduction.” Softer, more to theirself, they murmured, “I guess I could retcon something…”

Suddenly, Logan’s mind started to fill with unfamiliar memories. A snapshot of this same borrower, soaked to the bones, and Logan’s own hands reaching down to lift them out of a puddle. Another, contrasting and completely detached, yet somehow equally real, of Virgil wrapping a white bandage around Hann’s ankle and scolding them, while both sat on Logan’s desk. A third, of a shivering redheaded borrower leaning against Logan’s steaming mug of coffee, as snow fell outside.

Logan shook his head sharply, pushing back his chair in alarm. “Stop, stop!”

The stream of false pasts abruptly ceased, and the ones already in his head faded.

“Sorry.”

“What…” Logan hesitated. “What just happened? Who are you?”

“It’s… kind of a long story.”

“I have time,” Logan insisted.

“Okay.” Hann paused for a bit. “I’m not actually a borrower. Well, right now I am, technically, but most of the time I’m not.”

“What are you, then?” Despite the incredibly unnerving experience he’d just had, Logan found himself feeling very curious. What kind of being had the power to do that? Up until recently, borrowers had been the stuff of myths; were other “fantasy” creatures real as well? Fairies, perhaps?

“I’m human.”

Wait. What?

“But more relevently, I’m an Author.”

“An author,” Logan repeated. Somehow the word didn’t quite sound the same when he said it.

Hann nodded. “At the moment, I’m your Author.”

Logan looked down at himself, then back at the borrower— the Author— standing on his desk. “I’m not sure I like the implications of that.”

“That’s… That’s fair.” Hann rubbed the back of their neck with a little chuckle. “Sorry. I promise, I didn’t come here intending to make you nervous.”

They’d succeeded anyway, Logan thought to himself. But, despite all that, he was still extremely curious. “What all does being an author entail? Can you control me, like… like a puppet?”

Hann wiggled a hand in the ‘sort of’ gesture. “Eh. Yes and no.”

That… wasn’t very comforting.

“I can control your environment, and to a certain extent, what happens, but living things are trickier. Mostly, I can put you in a setting, and watch as you navigate it.” Well, that didn’t sound too bad— “And if I don’t think it’s interesting enough, or I wanted it to go a different way, I can rewind time and give you a nudge in a different direction, and try it again.” Nevermind, still frightening.

“So I have free will unless you don’t like what I do,” Logan surmised.

“You could put it that way, yeah.” Hann shrugged. “But you’d be surprised how many times a story goes off the rails, way outside the original plan, and I just watch it go, because whatever new thing that’s happening is more interesting.”

“Hm.”

“Take right now, for example. I didn’t plan for the conversation to go here, but it did. I could rewind it, but it’s interesting, so I’ll probably leave it.”

Logan pursed his lips uncomfortably. He didn’t much like feeling like a mere source of entertainment, he found. “I don’t suppose it matters if I don’t want to be rewound?”

“Usually? No. But, this is a special case. Very meta, and you’re actually aware of me. I have a feeling you’d know if I rolled time back, unlike most fics. So… I’ll only make minor edits. Wording and flow, stuff like that.”

“Thanks,” Logan said. “I think.”

“Though I’ll probably roll it back if we get too angsty, too,” Hann mused. “This is supposed to be a fluff piece.”

Logan wasn’t sure he knew what those words meant. He wasn’t sure he wanted to know. That was an unusual occurrence.

“Did you make me?”

“Oh, no! Not at all! This isn’t even an original fanfic, it’s recursive!”

Logan opened his mouth to ask a question. Then he closed it again to try to figure out where to even start.

“Okay, so I’m willing to explain, but it might give you a bit of an existential crisis,” Hann warned. “Or a lot of one.”

Logan considered it. He sighed. “Tell me.”

Hann nodded. “Okay, so the original Logan belongs to a show called ‘Sanders Sides’. In short, it’s about this guy, Thomas Sanders, and he has the ability to imagine the parts of his personality as metaphysical beings in the room with him, and they have discussions about… well, an assortment of topics. Logan represents— primarily— Thomas’s intellect. Logic. He’s my favorite. Following so far?”

Logan nodded. “Mind if I take notes?”

“Go ahead.”

Logan pulled out a notepad and a pen, jotting down what they’d said so far. He’d have to go back and get notes on the whole Author thing too, but one thing at a time. When he’d gotten it down, he looked up again, and Hann continued.

“You are an alternate version of that Logan. This is what we call an ‘AU’ or ‘Alternate Universe’. Instead of being a portion of one man’s personality, you’re your own human.”

“I see,” Logan said, writing that down.

“The rest of the sides got turned into borrowers. That’s Virgil, Dee, the twins, and Patton.”

Logan nodded. Would it be too intrusive on their privacy to ask what his miniature housemates represented in the apparent ‘original universe’? Considering how much they preferred to keep to themselves, he thought it might be. Instead, he asked, “I live in an alternate universe? How did it come to be?”

Hann grinned. “My friend made it, based on the original universe!”

Logan nodded slowly. “Were the differences intentional?”

“Oh yeah, definitely. She’s been going through a long list of gt prompts, writing short stories for each, in various different AUs, and there’s a bunch here. The first one was when you and Virgil met.”

“‘Gee tea’?” Logan questioned, deciding to leave the mention of even more alternate universes for later.

“Giant and tiny,” Hann explained. “Anything with a major size difference, really. Some of ‘em have giants and humans interacting, some have humans and borrowers, or humans and fairies, or tiny merfolk, or whatever.”

“Do those all exist in your universe— the one you’re from, originally?” If so, Logan wasn’t entirely sure whether to be glad or sad he was here instead, where there were only borrowers.

The tiny Author drooped sadly. “No. Unfortunately. Just humans. No giants, no tinies.”

“Oh. My condolences.”

Hann shrugged. “It is what it is. And that’s what fiction is for, anyway.”

Logan didn’t read much fiction, but he nonetheless supposed that rang true. “So… you said earlier that you’re my author. How is that, if your friend was the one to create my universe?”

“Oh, I’m just borrowing you,” Hann said.

“‘Borrowing’ me,” Logan repeated.

“Just for a bit.”

“I think i would have liked to have been asked first,” Logan said, once again feeling uncomfortably like a plaything.

“Sorry.” Hann paused for a moment. “May I borrow you?”

“Am I allowed to say no?”

“Of course you are! I mean, I’d really rather you didn’t, but if you really don’t want me here, I’ll leave. I’ll even delete the whole story if you want.” They paused. “Though that might feel even weirder for you than me just rewriting a scene. I wonder if you’d even remember, though, once I did it?”

Before they could continue too far along that peculiar line of thought, Logan asked, “If I tell you to go, you won’t just back up to before and ‘nudge’ me toward the other answer, will you?”

Hann shook their head. “No, that seems unnecessarily cruel. If you want me to go, I’ll go. No tricks.”

Logan thought about it. The little redhead waited, looking around his desk. Finally, Logan said, “Alright. You may… borrow me a little bit longer.”

“Yay!” Hann cheered, throwing their hands up happily. “Thank you!”

Logan smiled. Terrifyingly powerful or not, they were kinda adorable. “Why did you want to borrow me in the first place, anyway?”

“Oh!” Hann grinned. “You know that thing you do with Virgil, where you hold him and play with him like a living stim toy? I want that.”

“You… you want me to fiddle with you?”

Hann nodded quickly. “Yes, please! I’ve always wanted to be manhandled by a well-meaning and gentle, but extremely curious giant, and then yesterday I read Kiera’s latest updates to your story, and one of them had you playing with Virgil, and another had you playing with the twins, and I just was filled with a soft but intense longing.”

“Well, alright.” Logan set his notes aside, bringing his hands instead over to the waiting borrower. They bounced excitedly on the balls of their feet.

Carefully, Logan wrapped his hand around them. Hann was smaller than Virgil, though not as small as the twins. They stilled, beaming up at him.

“You’re not even a little bit intimidated, are you,” Logan said with a chuckle, brushing his thumb across the top of their head.

“Oh, I am, but only in the good way,” Hann answered. “Like I said, I’ve seen how gentle and considerate you are. I know you won’t hurt me.”

They were right. Logan didn’t answer, just picked them up. He began to poke gently at them, similarly to how he would interact with Virgil. Hann giggled happily and offered no resistance. Logan pinched their tiny limbs between his fingers, rolled them around on his palm, rubbed his thumb against their back and their sides, and draped them across the back of his hand. Just as with Virgil, he found the activity to be quite pleasant. Hann, meanwhile, appeared to be enjoying it just as much, practically melting in his hands.

Finally, Logan stopped, holding the little author in cupped palms.

They lay, utterly relaxed, with their eyes partly closed, a smile on their lips.

“Was that… good?”

Hann nodded. “That was great!” they said, sitting up. “Thanks so much.”

Logan found himself grinning back. “You’re welcome.”

“I guess I probably ought to be getting out of your hair,” Hann said reluctantly, glancing off to the side. “Let you get back to what you were doing before.”

Logan hesitated. “Well,” he said. “I was intending to read. And if you’ve been, er, ‘watching’ me, you know that I enjoy fiddling with Virgil as I read, so…”

Hann perked up again. “Really?”

“As long as you don’t object to me not paying much attention to you,” Logan said.

“That’s fine!” Hann grinned happily up at him. “You’re doing me a favor, anyway. I’ll take whatever I can get.”

Logan smiled, shifted the tiny author to one hand, and with the other, pulled a thick book from his shelf.

#original #my writing #sanders sides #gt #sanders sides gt #my Sanders Sides writing #recursive fic #kieraelieson #a very meta fic #extremely self-indulgent

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ordinaryfander · 6 years ago

Text

The new video sure was something, uh

So, as usual I'm here to brag about the newest video. This time, I'm going to analyze "Dealing with INTRUSIVE THOUGHTS", and it's a long analysis/theory, so be patient with me.

This will majorly center around Remus and "the Others", so beware! (I'm so happy I don't have to call them Dark Sides anymore, it was never fair)

I wrote many points to consider, and each one will take quite a bit. With that, let's begin!

1) So:

[ 1) Remus: Who he is, what he does, why he's there ]

I think we can all agree that his debut was a surprise, especially because most of us were expecting the "Green Side" to be associated with something like Envy, or Greed, since dark green is sometimes associated with money.

However, we got Remus, aka Intrusive Thoughts, which I think is, in my opinion, the best option they could face.

So: he is Thomas' nasty thoughts, the evil, twisted fantasies, and he keeps Thomas' awake at night with dark ideas, he gives him the worst thoughts to deal with, things Thomas is deeply troubled to think of, because as Logan said, his catholic beliefs instilled in him that thought is the precursor of action.

Remus is there, and why is he there?

The fun thing is: I don't think he's there to be "useful". Later I'll explain where I think his Character Arc is going to go, but Remus really doesn't have any reason to be there except that intrusive thoughts are something absolutely everyone deals with. You all have to consider that, even if those are Thomas' Sides, they're also everyone's Sides. We all have Logic, Creativity, Morality, Anxiety, and we all lie (I'll return to that).

And this traits help us live with eveyday life?

But intrusive thoughts? They just majorly upset us, and worsen our view of ourselves, but we all still have them.

However, I'm really happy with this choice, because Thomas is starting to really show what I've been screaming since Deceit's debut: things are not black and white, and he is NOT a completely good person, because NO ONE is, not 100%. We can act like good people and sincerely mean to do good, but we're still gonna have dark, horrible thoughts. And, as Thomas' said, that's ok. Those thoughts don't make you a bad person if you don't act on them, but you should consider a therapist/psychiatrist if they bother you too much. There's no shame in that, too: please, reach out for help, if needed.

[ 2) Remus' relationships with: Roman, Deceit, and Virgil ]

- Remus' relationship with Roman

At 35:50, it's officially and definitely confirmed that Remus and Roman are brothers, probably even twins.

A moment after the Duke disappears, Roman says "I don't like him".

Thomas goes, at Roman: "So, you have a brother?"

And Roman clearly is uncomfortable with it: "Yeah... It's a little like looking into a fun-house mirror. But instead of a giant head, or, like, long legs or a tiny torso... It shows you everything you don't want to be."

Thomas answers: "That doesn't sound like a very funny house"

And Roman: "Yeah... Uhh, whatever, y'know-? (...)"

Roman and Remus obviously don't get along, but we understood that the moment Remus knocked out Roman with that weapon I don't know the name of (sorry rip, don't focus on this :'))

Roman considers himself a dashing Disney Prince, a knight in shining armor, an example of bravery and justice, while Remus is pure chaotic evil. He doesn't care what other people think and his idea of fun and fantasy is twisted, and he isn't afraid of Roman and his sword in the slightest. They're opposites.

Unluckily we didn't get much brotherly interactions or interactions at all, so there's no much to say, but those two have a whole damn lot to work through.

The question that many have been asking is: do Roman and Remus share a room?

The answer is: I honestly don't know. It would be a complete and utter mess that Roman would hate to have to share. Time will tell.

- Remus' relationship with Deceit

We haven't even seen them interacting on screen, but we already know so damn much about it.

WAY BACK in "Can LYING Be Good?", this was said about Deceit:

Roman: "If you really don't want to know something, he (Deceit) can keep our moutjs shut."

And Logan immediately goes "You don't want to believe it. That's where his (Deceit's) power comes from. Things that you want to believe. Things that you wish were true. And things that you wish weren't."

And later:

Deceit is able to shut up the Sides, but he's also able to hide them. That's what he did with Remus, he kept him locked away.

I've always been rooting for morally gray/sympathetic Deceit, but I'll try to stay neutral on this: though, I really believe that Deceit was trying to protect Thomas.

Remus is... A lot, to say the least. He's pure chaos, and isn't useful or helpful (for now) and doesn't even care to be. Deceit, on the other side, really cares about Thomas, and he showed that in many ways: he just cares about Thomas in his own way. Missing the callback of SVS still hurts Thomas after all this time, and I already explained why Deceit tried his best to do what was good for Thomas in court (https://ordinaryfander.tumblr.com/post/183871155711/thomas-shouldve-gone-to-do-the-callback-he).

I also said, tho, that in SVS Deceit was frustrated to no end because the other Sides weren't listening to him.

Look how confused he is at Patton's words.

You know why? Because Thomas thinks what he says. Thomas lies, and Deceit is there to prove it.

But they didn't listen to Deceit, but Deceit isn't like Virgil: Virgil waited lots of episodes to be listened to until he finally ducked out.

Deceit straight up released Thomas' worst thoughts because Thomas had to face in the most hard way that he is n o t a completely honest person. Deceit just got really pissed and went: "You know what? I'm useful, you need me and I'll prove it."

And he just did that. He straight up released Remus, Thomas' worst thoughts, on them. Deceit is the only one who could do that, and you know why he did?

Remus: "Thomas, speaking of knowledge; recently a snake offered me a morsel from the tree of knowledge. He said you're wanting to be more honest and be direct dealing with your issues, no longer will you deceive yourself about the ugliness within you, me!"

Deceit smacked in the face Thomas with Remus, so Thomas could get the point. I think he did. "If you don't want to lie to yourself, at least face who you really are"

About Remus and Deceit alone...

I don't think Deceit really likes Remus. Deceit is kinda goofy, but he's also sophisticated, charming, a silver-tongue. Remus is a stinky garbage man.

Deceit wants to protect Thomas' reputation, Remus would destroy it. Probably Remus likes Deceit (I think he likes everyone, he doesn't care), but Deceit doesn't really reciprocate the feeling. I could surely be proven wrong, those are just my points.

- Remus' relationship with Virgil

Boy oh boy.

Well, the video already said what I could'be said: Virgil dislikes Remus, he doesn't trust him, but he's also not as scared of him anymore like he used to be.

Virgil, at Remus (32:27): "I thought you were some... Horrible illness. Now I can see that you're just a common cold, a mild inconvenience that's gone before you know it."

And Remus looks at him like this:

That's not a evil look. He's soft, almost proud.

He isn't even offended. He just goes "Eheh, you tickle me, emo."

And Virgil has one blink-and-you-miss-it-moment when he genuinely smiles.

I think he did somehow used to like (platonically y'all) Remus, even if he was scared of him. They were still... Friends, maybe, at some point. Deceit and Virgil never had such a kind-of-sweet moment, even if just a few seconds long, and even if the Duke and Virgil still are not likely to get along in general and for the time being. The Duke's phrase about Old Times wasn't a welcomed one by Virgil.

I don't wanna dig in too much else, we already know that Virgil doesn't still trust the Duke. That was just some looks I noticed that stuck with me.

Also, I won't ignore the fragment revelead his name and said: "Of course (I told you, Thomas), I would never hide anything to you." And it cuts right off to Virgil. Eh. Busted.

- How Will His Character Arc Go?

That one is the most important question.

Everyone is gonna believe what they will, but I don't think he'll get... Sympathetic, even? He's just pure chaos.

Maybe his Arc will entangle with a Roman new one, maybe his Arc will entangle with Deceit's. I do hope that Thomas and co. will now value Deceit better, he really isn't that bad... At least, not compared to Remus.

Deceit shut up Logan guys, but Remus straight up murdered him. Even if they can't literally die, y'all really can't close a whole eye on that.

So I just think he's gonna stay around and do mischief, but will surely get some sort of development related to other characters. I'm almost sure he won't get a Solo Arc, surely not for now. However, I'm pretty sure they'll get back to talk how to manage him, and how he can become more useful.

- Conclusions and predictions for the next video

Honestly, sorry this was messier than my normal analysis/theory posts, but I don't fully know how to take Remus yet.

Y'all see, the moment I knew Deceit I made my mind up: he's morally gray, he has a purpose, he has to get credit for it.

Remus confused me in every possible way. He's chaos. I'm sure we won't see him in the next video, but I predict maybe Deceit will be in it, just to look how good of a job he's done.

And that's pretty much it. I hope you all have a good time :>

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hugotontheonbiquiffinarians · 6 years ago

Note

hi omg i just read the clown protestors arthurxyou and i’m mind blown by your writing. i’ve never read anything with such detail. it didn’t even have smut but i enjoyed it so much- please, write more!!!!

Tonight...

Tonight was the night you had decided to venture beyond the confines of your comfort zone. To be sure, it was an average Saturday night, rife with studious affinity and booked arrangements with your vivid inner workings.

Tonight, however, was a night of errant impulse. One that enticed you to attend the Murray Franklin show, unescorted. Completely, utterly alone. Normally, the contrived atmosphere of televised events would make you recoil violently. But, tonight compelled differently. Your repulsion to the nature of insincere smiles and orchestrated laughs was retired instead to an unusual appetite for reality.

Tonight’s fabricated reality was especially seasoned. Mortality was indiscriminate to tonight’s audience. The puppeteer’s strings were fraying. The time, sedated. The cue cards, delayed in presentation. The audience’s response to riveting, murderous climax, expected, but no less unnerving to the imperious conductor. No less improvised and deserving of penance.

Then, there was him...

The celestial body of comedy cosmos. Orbiting aimless through an unforgiving galaxy, if only for a number of tense, uninviting minutes. The clown of the evening. Dressed to the cat o’ nines. At least, to you, he appeared as one to « live on the edge ». Front row, his visage was an unseasonably vibrant palette. Yet, you couldn’t be fooled. Beneath the suit and makeup, he was nothing short of Death’s Head Upon a Mop-Stick. An emaciated, miserable fellow seeking to exact a rather noble agenda. Albeit poorly executed.

In spite of his near skeletal composition, it was precisely this that attracted you to him. Ineffable, poetic beauty making a xylophone of his rib cage. Skeletal beyond physicality. An imaginative X-ray scan of eyes, hollow and sunken, yet defiantly verdant with a preserved seed of life.

Sparse about the chest and famished for attention, the compulsion to make daring strides to the soles of his sensitive feet was close to irresistible. Yet, you concede to refrain. At the moment, the man was reading from a notebook. A joke, it seemed. A classic knock-knock variation. While you, alone, were listening intently, quite eager to indulge the dulcet lull of his voice, to endure, in unwanted company, the audience’s dissent, was vexing and oppositional.

Yes, his delivery was morbid and untimely, but did it truly warrant such a wounding brand of ignominy ? Did the fair jester deserve to be pilloried by insolent townsfolk, demanding of entertainment, yet nevertheless poised at the pinch with peanuts of discontent ? His harmless touch of humour, reversed to inflict irreparable damage ?

Ah, but this wreaking of havoc would appear to double The Fool, himself, as A Hanged Man. In spite of this, the cards are yet shuffled in his favour. Tonight, The Hanged Man was dealt to another. The man positioned to the left of celestial coordinates, insouciant to the adjacent star’s warning pulse of blinding luminosity. One which would ultimately unleash the fatal gasp of supernova…

Only to be reborn to a less conspicuous state of matter. Bright enough to be observed from a distance measured by all planets, yet no less forbidding in its modest size. Commanding appreciation and respect, thereby.

Before the cycle of this reformation could reach completion, a hist had to be ushered. A solemn yet forceful call for silence, attracting attention. With such gale of conviction, the man was, at present, asserting statements of truth to the unofficial court.

”I killed those guys because they were awful.”

The audience is uncomfortable with this incisive appeal.

“Everybody is awful, these days.”

All, except you. Threatening to clamor in resistance. Still staring intensely at the man, more engrossed than repelled by his refreshing presence.

“It’s enough to make anyone crazy.”

A small, insignificant nerve of morality twinged at your conscience. Deliberating… at all odds, misconstruing, his claim. Wondering if you, alone, were ‘crazy’ for the polarity of your thoughts in the midst of this confused course of judgment.

Above all, you craved the impending strike of chaos. Beyond the deafening brevity of silence, the intrusive, whispering assent of disorder was quickly approaching. And you hadn’t a mite of disagreement to contribute to those misleading murmurs of the jury. In fact, their repugnance was instead vocalised by the arbiter and defendant, currently at wit’s end in contentious argument.

Helplessly, your fight or flight response was evident by an increased rate of breathing. Rising blood pressure, spectral ringing in the ears, concentrated pulsations of your heart throbbing against scattered areas of flesh.

When the trumpet sounds, your ears fall deaf. Glazed vision registers the stark splatter of crimson staining a distinct name with the permanent mark of quietus.

It’s all just a dream, you think weakly. The noisome screams to which you wish all tongues were made dumb. Silence is what you hunger for. The mouldy TV dinner awaiting at your squalid dorm was forgotten. Silence was vital. If only for reasons of rejecting all activity that didn’t declare the (now criminal) clown as sole focus.

And, it seemed, you had captured his attention as well. Still in a daze of adrenaline, he does his little dance, effectively ignoring the damsel in distress embraced by her saviour in sooted armour. The quacksalver named Sally. The sleazy husband of another, portraying the begrimed white knight. Both petrified in their respective roles, yet nothing more than minor characters in this bizarre lover’s tale.

He makes muted steps in your direction. A trajectory that is strangely fearsome in its perplexing gait. He walks as if he balances between the border of reality and fevered paracosm.

To think, it is not the camera he aims towards…

The pleats of his slacks point keenly to you with each gradual erase of distance. In contrast, his unfocused gaze is at once conflicted yet resolute. Still, the distant cries of terror bleed profusely into the juvenile squall of night. Still, your form, secured to the seat, adhered by delayed presence of emotion. Stoic as the stone cushion.

Just as well, tonight’s moon is noticeably full. Its lunar radiance captivates the expanding vacancy of studio. Amid the disruption of regularly scheduled programming, the light fixtures had begun to flicker. Sparks projecting in variegated asterisms. The tapestried windows began to transpose themselves to hyperrealism, admitting the grace of its silver radiance in full force. The intensity of its glow outlines his wingless form as a fledgling seraph. When his lips part, the voice bespeaks with the striking cords of angels.

“You’re not like the rest of them, are you?”

The question was a paralysing tickle of rhetoric. Inexplicit in answer. His tone was doused by curiosity. Incurably childlike. Sickly saccharine words dispensed from sugared teeth as a soothing balm.

Despite these futile attempts to remedy, you were still unsure if any of tonight’s events were not fabricated illusions of a sleep deprived student. Yet, you examine this clown with careful consideration, eyes wide shut, scrutinising his alluring visage, a painted mess of hidden message. The goofy curl of his lip, crooked and exposing of snaggletooth. The crinkle of his emerald eyes, dancing with the moon, illuminating the dim expanse. Glimmering with a dangerous combination of mischief, hope and promise. That, as well, of the silly hand gesture lacing each slender finger through yours, surprisingly chilled to the bone with sudden contact.

Failure to restrain his impending laughter is stimulated by your undue flinching, accompanied by the provocation of a slight gasp as visceral reaction. Failure to respond in time, to oblige his gentle clutch and flee the scene, was magnified by the abrupt entry of two hefty figures looming in the twirling shadows. Failure to react when these figures move swiftly to apprehend and wrest the hand from yours rather viciously.

In that moment, it was serpents against swine. A blur of stiffened and flailing limbs alike in mismatched choreography. Unlike the clown, you don’t resist when the medics wrench you away, divorcing you further from your self-prescribed medicine. And, still..., your attempt to inject a potent dose of belief was persistent.

It couldn’t be real... None of it was real.

But, his smile...

His laugh...

If nothing else was certain, the lingering stretch of that wounded, boyish smile, replete with delusions of dreams and splendor... was terrifying evidence of this obvious truth.

In pristine, white corners, two orderlies stand idly, mildly perturbed by your manic echoes of laughter. Heedless and indifferent to quell the chorus of its reverb as the trembling intensity of its sound gives a semblance of struggle against the straitjacket’s harness.

You think them fools for misjudging your benign mirth as an attempt to escape. Why would you wish to escape that which would finally aim to spread joy to needless misery?

Three consecutive seconds from the clock remind you of your place. When the click of the door’s handle reaches your ears, pure laughter subsides to shaky relief.

When your eyes open again, the vision is a clear frame of vivid spectacle. Two men in the throes of primitive aggression were dragging a half-starved man, limp and comatose, to a destination unknown.

The rhythm of your lungs return to a steady pace. The blood beneath lukewarm skin streams a settled flow through calm rivers.

The studio is emptied. Effectively purged of its pathogens. Still and all, the reality of the ordeal has yet to process its candid rendering. Fatigued and disenchanted, your steps to departure are light and heady.

——————————————————————

As a matter of blinded course, Arthur reveled in his sprinkled delirium. Quite literally basking in its fiery glow as the street lights and infernos merged to one. Perhaps the first in three decades of listless existence, Arthur could finally say, with sincerity, that he was truly, undoubtedly, happy.

Yet, he couldn’t help the risible itch of something missing. A shard of mosaic to complete the tessellating puzzle of this midsummer night’s dream.

Mere moments before the kaleidoscope of crash fractures his drunken taste of giddy liberty, he thinks that no such freedom can exist without the force of another to share the view.

———————————————————————

Then again...

——————-—————————————————

Was there not you ?

#arthur fleck #arthur x reader #arthur x you #arthur fleck x you #joker #joker 2019

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undertale-is-sansational · 6 years ago

Text

So like...

I've been writing something. It was supposed to be a short little one-shot thing but it's gonna be a full-blown story now I guess. I don't have a title for it yet but I'm working on it. I started writing it two days ago. This is all I have but I'm working on more. But here it is.

~~~~~

Words: 2,614

Summary: Deceit and Remus welcome a new side.

Prologue

Deceit and Remus have not been at their best as of late. They haven't felt like themselves, they haven't felt full, they haven't felt whole since Virgil left them. They had been completely crushed by the loss of their friend, and the fact that they are still considered evil and dark only makes things worse.

Thomas had not noticed the worsening depression stemming from the two sides, for it was not enough to impact his mental health directly. Despite this, the feelings still stewed and festered in the depths of his mind.

Thomas was alright up until now. With his recent realizations of his own selfishness and his intrusive thoughts, paired with ever-approaching wedding, his mental health has plummeted faster than a plane falling from the sky. The days seem to get longer and drag on more the closer they come to the dreaded wedding. The closer it gets, the more Thomas thinks about the callback and how amazing it would be just to be there. He also thinks about the court case and how differently things could have gone. He thinks about other possible ways that whole scenario could have played out. All of these different thoughts send him into a deep depression, spiralling deeper than ever before.

His spiralling depression, mixed with the long-festering feelings of the two remaining "dark" sides, is enough for the manifestation of a new side.

This new side has begun to form in the living room of the "dark" sides. It had been a long time since the manifestation of a new side, so Deceit and Remus were understandably shocked to see the colored energy swirling and circling right before their very eyes. It's like magic.

Once the energy has dissipated and the smoke has cleared, the figure that had manifested could be seen. They are at least four inches shorter than all the other sides. They have curly brown hair that is swooped to the left instead of the right. They have dull brown eyes and skin as pale as ivory. They wear all dark gray from head to toe. They wear an oversized dark gray hoodie, dark gray jeans with a hole in the right knee, and dark gray shoes. The only color they have is rainbow shoelaces. They have a chubby build and appear...female?

Deceit and Remus stare at the figure before them in awe. The figure stares back, seeming somewhat confused. Deceit steps forward and begins to speak, even though he has almost no idea what to say. "Hello. I'm Deceit, and this is Remus." He gestures a hand in Remus' direction. Remus only waves a hello, afraid he might scare them off if he says anything. The figure waves back and speaks in a high pitched, female-sounding voice. "Hi. I'm uhh...Depression."

Deceit and Remus look at each other with hope and a small amount of confusion. They finally have another "dark" side, another family member, someone who they hope won't abandon them. However, they are confused by the new side appearing to be a girl. They have some questions, to say the least. Deceit speaks again. "Do you mind if we ask you some questions?"

"Not if you don't mind me asking some of my own," Depression responds.

"Not at all. Please, sit." Deceit and Remus sit on either side of the couch, making room for their new guest to sit between them. As Depression gets comfortable on the surprisingly soft couch, Deceit starts asking his questions. "I...we don't want to be disrespectful to you but umm...are you female?"

"Yes, I am. And before you ask why, I'll tell you. Along with representing depression, I also represent a lot of Thomas' insecurities. One of them being overtly feminine. So yes, please use she/her pronouns when you refer to me." Deceit and Remus nod at her explanation and wait for her to ask them a question. "So, I suppose my only question is....whaaat happened? Like how and/or why am I here now? As an actual person and not just floating...brain energy?" The two look taken aback at the phrase 'floating brain energy,' but Deceit answers the question to the best of his ability.

"You're here in a physical form now because Thomas' depression has affected him so much that it has become a part of his personality. Us sides are all aspects of his personality, thus you manifesting into a new side." Depression nods at his answer and is then struck with a realization. "Ohhhhhh, okay."

Before Deceit can say anything else, Remus speaks for the first time in at least ten minutes. "Floating brain energy?" There is as much enthusiasm as there is confusion in his voice. He seems to like the phrase.

"Yeah. It was kinda like I could see and hear everything like I was in the room, but I couldn't interact with anything or anyone. I could go through everything. I was kinda like a...formless ghost." She explains her experience the best she can. Deceit seems intrigued and Remus looks...inspired? She's not quite sure, but it looks like he liked the way she described it. Deceit clears his throat. "Do you have a name?"

"Do YOU have a name?" she retorts. She seems slightly uncomfortable at the mention of names; Deceit understands.

"Fair point." He glances off towards the stairs, as if searching for more questions, when he notices the glow of more energy coming from the upstairs hallway. "I think your bedroom is forming. We should check it out."

"I wanna see what it looks like!" Remus exclaims with child-like enthusiasm. He's definitely excited by their new arrival; he's practically beaming. He skips all the way up the stairs, Deceit and Depression trailing behind.

As they walk through the hallway, Deceit stops the group at two doors across the hall from each other. He turns to his left and says, "This is my room. If I'm not around, I'm most likely in here. Feel free to knock if you ever need anything." It was a solid black door with yellow trim, a yellow door knob, and a yellow two-headed snake on the front. Depression nods as she examines the door.

Remus turns to the right and exclaims, "This is my room! Come in anytime, I'm not shy!" The door is solid black with green trim, door knob, and octopus on the front.

"I would suggest knocking before you even think about going in there," Deceit whispers to Depression. She nods with a small chuckle. "Oh, trust me, I already know all about that." She shivers and Deceit knows she's seen a thing or two.

They continue their trek down the hallway until they reach two more doors. "This must be your room," Deceit says, turning to the left again. There was a plain dark gray door with a silver door knob, no color, and no animal depicted on the front. Depression turns to the door on the other side of the hallway. It's a solid black door with purple trim, door knob, and spider on the front. She notices a pattern with the doors. She also notices a strip of caution tape covering the entrance.

"Whose room was that?" She asks curiously, although she feels as if she already knows the answer.

Deceit and Remus look at each other sadly. "The room of an old friend," Remus' voice is soft and filled with sorrow. "He uhh...moved out a while back," Deceit finishes Remus' thought while trying not to sound crushed. Depression nods understandingly.

She changes the subject, trying to lighten the mood. She hates to see people as depressed as she is. "You guys wanted to see my room, right? Well," she chuckles lightly, "I do too. I have no idea what's in here." She turns the knob and pushes the door open, the three of them stepping inside.

The room is dimly lit, seeming to only have a bed, a desk with a phone sitting on it, and a wall clock that moves much slower than real time. "That's it?" Depression and Remus speak in surprised unison and look at each other.

"The more you become a defined personality trait, the more you and the things around you will develop. You're practically a newborn baby. Give it time. Come on, Remus. Let's let her settle in." Deceit says, waving Remus out of the room. They close the door behind them as they exit, leaving Depression alone in the now completely dark room. She stumbles her way to the desk and picks up the phone. She turns it on and sees that it's brand new. She sits on the desk and spends the next twenty minutes setting up the phone and fiddling with its settings. Once she's finished, she stretches out her arms and flinches when her hand softly strikes something. She slowly reaches for it and finds it's a desk lamp. She flicks it on, causing the entire room to light up. She looks around, finally able to see the details of the room.

The walls are a neutral gray with dark wood trim along the bottom. The carpet is slightly shaggy with several different shades of gray. The bed has white sheets, a gray plaid blanket and pillow cases, and a dark wood frame that matches the wall trim. The desk and the desk lamp are both black. It's beautiful, in its own way.

As she looks around, she notices another dark gray door with a silver door knob. She hops off the desk and makes her way over to it. She opens the door to reveal a decent sized closet. The only thing in it is a silver bar and some empty hangers hanging from it. She sighs at the emptiness of her room, but takes solace at the quietness of it.

She decides to explore more of the mindscape and goes back downstairs. Deceit and Remus are watching TV on the couch, although they seem to not be paying the slightest bit of attention to it. They're too busy talking. She quietly passes them as she heads for the kitchen. She checks the time on her phone, 9:28 pm, way too late for dinner. She grabs a glass of water and moves behind the couch, leaning over the back and looking at the TV.

"Whatcha guys watchin?" Her voice startles the two men, causing them to jump and look at her. She sips her water, seeming unamused. "You guys weren't watching the TV." She states matter-of-factly. "You were talking about me, weren't you?" She stares at them dully.

Deceit sighs. "Yes, we were. We're so happy to finally have someone here with us again. It's kind of lonely here with just the two of us. We were just talking about all the things we could do together, kind of like a family." He seems afraid that they may have upset her.

"Y-yeah! We didn't mean anything by it! W-we were just wondering how you'd develop!" Remus stutters. He seems nervous. They seem sincere and for the first time, Depression cracks a small smile. Deceit looks at her in awe as Remus gives a small squeal. This causes her to smile even more. Remus covers his mouth as Deceit squeaks. She can't help but giggle a little and smile fully. "So cute!" Deceit and Remus squeal out in unison.

She giggles more. "Shut up! I'm not that cute." She covers her blush with a sleeve covered hand. The two stop squealing and compose themselves. "Sorry. I-it's been a long time," Deceit says. They both look embarrassed. She squeezes between them on the couch. "Tell me about yourselves and what goes on here. I need to know."

She listens to them talk about themselves and tell stories about the other sides for the next two hours. They were both so excited to have a fresh pair of ears to tell all their stories to. They both seemed genuinely happy for the first time in a long while, and Depression could tell. It made her happy to see others happy. Not only did she have fun listening to their stories, she got to know a lot about who they are and what they're all about. She sees the ups and downs they both deal with and she accepts them fully, trying to understand as best as she can. She's content with her placement in the mindscape.

After all the stories had been told, it was time for bed. The trio headed to their rooms, wishing each other goodnight. Deceit and Remus fell asleep quickly. Depression stayed up. After forty five minutes of silence, she sneaks into the hallway. She heads for the door across the hall, ducks the caution tape and, as slowly and quietly as she can, opens the door. She leaves the door cracked the tiniest bit and heads for the desk, turning on the desk lamp. She looks around the room. The walls are a light shade purple with band and movie posters, a clock going much faster than real time, and cobwebs hanging on them. The carpet is black and there are Halloween type decorations all around the room. The desk and lamp are black. The bed has black sheets, dark purple plaid blanket, a case-less pillow, and a black frame. The closet door is half open and the room is a mess. As if there were a fight, or someone was trying to leave in a hurry. Everything is covered in a layer of dust.

She carefully makes her way towards the closet where she can see an intact box. Once she reaches the closet, she opens the door and kneels so she can better examine the box and it's contents. The box is small, and has less dust than anything else does. She takes a deep breath and open the box. The only thing in it is a fluffy, black, plaid, zip up jacket. She looks at it confused and examines it closely. She squishes it and tugs it, feels the fluff, follows the lines with her finger, plays with hood, pulls the strings, zips and unzips it... She does everything she can think of. Then she's smacked with a realization. Virgil. The purple one. The edgy one. Anxiety. This is his old room. He use to live with Deceit and Remus. It all makes sense to her now. She feels bad for her two new friends, but can't be mad at Virgil either. She understands it must've been hard for him, and things are nice up with the "light" sides. She sighs. This is all she wanted to know, so it's time for her to leave. She goes to fold the jacket but stops as she looks at it. Something about it is very alluring. She decides to take it with her. She places the box back in the corner, turns off the lamp, and exits the room. She shuts the door as quietly as possible, turning the knob to soften the thunk, and ducks the caution tape again.

As she enters her room, she notices a dresser and a nightstand, both in the same dark wood as the bedframe. There's an alarm clock on the nightstand.

She makes her way to the dresser and opens the bottom drawer, tucking the jacket inside. She notices a set of pajamas and takes them out, shutting the drawer. She puts on her pajamas, a blue-gray shirt with rain clouds on it and a pair black pants. She turns off her lamp and lays in her bed, watching YouTube for a few more hours. She goes to sleep at 4 am.

#sanders sides #thomas sanders #deceit sanders #ts deceit #virgil sanders #ts virgil #ts remus #tw remus #tw deceit #remus sanders #my writing #writing #my work

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medeafive · 7 years ago

Text

Kitchen table issues

Well, someone has to kick the Buckynat smutathon off and I might as well go and do it! No prompt, kind of mission-related, a fair amount of jealousy.

“Alright, so what if we compare this list with the known contacts of Helveden,” Sam suggests. “We have that, right?”

“Yeah, that’s the problem,” Clint replies, rubbing his neck. “Barnes has it.”

“Then we call him?” Sam suggests. “He can’t be super far.”

Clint snorts. “Yeah, tried that. Doesn’t pick up.”

Sam looks to the other person in the room. “... Have you tried it from Nat’s number?”

Natasha raises an eyebrow. “Do I look like I have a fixed number?”

“How do you two ever meet?” Clint asks slash complains.

“Magic and coincidence.” Natasha dials a number. “Don’t worry, Tony probably knows where he is.”

“Good, cause I don’t need to tell you this is urgent,” Sam remarks. “Just out of curiosity, why do you think Tony knows?”

“Because he made some special tech for this mission and put a tracker on it because he doesn’t trust James,” Natasha explains. “Hey Tony. It’s urgent.”

Tony on the other end of the line snorts. “Are you ever gonna call me and say Hey Stark, how are you?”

“If I do, you’ll know I have a gun pointed at my head,” Natasha replies.

“You wanna stay in the car?” Clint suggests.

Natasha snorts, getting out. “What, because this French villa smells of pretty young heiress and it’s not even nine in the morning?”

“I only smell lavender,” Sam replies, looking around at the sandstone building, the flowerpots, the sea view. “Though you do know time.”

“Well, let’s tell the owner we need to talk to him urgently,” Clint says. “Got your glasses?”

“I would never forget my sexy secretary glasses,” Natasha mutters sarcastically, pushing them up her nose.

Sam locks the car. “So, you’re gonna talk? You’re better at talking. How’s your French?”

Clint looks at him weird. “Come on, French is easy.”

“I fucking hate when you say that,” Sam mutters, walking up the short stairs to the door and straightening his jacket before ringing the bell.

The girl who opens is pretty, dark rustled hair and big brown eyes, surprised at the intrusion, voice like she just fell out of bed. “Excusez-moi?”

She is wearing a fizzy light blouse that blows in the wind coming over the road from the Atlantic and a knee-long leather skirt. Daddy’s girl. “Bonjour,” Clint replies, smiling charmingly. “We are looking for a friend of ours and we were told he might be here.”

The girl’s eyebrows knit together like this is an incredibly intriguing idea. “What’s his name?”

Clint tilts his head and bites his lip. “Well, frankly, we’re not sure which one he told you.”

The girl laughs, turning on her heel. “Oh, that must be him. Wait, please, I’ll go wake him.”

She doesn’t close the door, so they follow her into the beach house and up the stairs. White curtains blow through the open windows. There’s breakfast on the kitchen table, croissants and coffee. Dry lavender. Sam gives Natasha a look that she pretends not to notice.

There’s only one door upstairs. The girl knocks quietly before entering. And it is James, sprawled squarely on his stomach over the king-sized bed, just in black briefs, the sheets tangled around one calf in the June heat. Soundly asleep. Natasha smiles politely. Sam rolls his eyes. The girl sits down on the bed and carefully lays a hand on his shoulder. He starts up immediately, blinking from under his tousled hair. “Bonjour,” the girl coos in French. “Sorry to wake you. Friends are asking for you.”

James blinks in even more confusion and a little bit of panic if you know how to spot it, then he sees them in the doorway and blushes. Painfully naked. The girl smiles and caresses his cheek. “D’accord? I’ll go finish my breakfast, I’m already late.”

“Yeah, sure,” Bucky replies, nervously gripping the sheets. The girl kisses his cheek, then gets up and passes them with an excusing smile.

“Seriously,” Sam says as soon as she is out of earshot. “This is where we find you?”

“Shut up,” Bucky hisses, jumping up from the bed. “I’m getting dressed. Just wait downstairs.”

“It’s urgent,” Clint adds, then turns around to head down the stairs. Natasha follows him, smiling to herself. Sam, however, makes a point of giving Bucky another accusing look.

“Don’t stab him before he gives us the list,” Clint mutters without turning his head.

“Please, we talked about this,” Natasha replies completely relaxed. “We have rules.”

The girl is looking at her phone with complete fascination. She’s cute. James could have had it a lot worse. Sam joins them downstairs. The girl looks up as if she’s forgotten about them. “Oh, pardonnez-moi! Have a seat.”

Sam looks questioningly at Clint who makes a small hand gesture, then sits down somewhere across from her, venturing a “Merci” with a strong accent. The girl smiles, completely charmed.

She spends the rest of the time on her phone, dipping the rest of her croissant in the coffee, then drinking it by the sink. Probably on Instagram. She looks like an Instagram girl. Otherwise, it’s silent. Natasha strides over to the glass door down into the garden. “Fantastic view.”

“Oh, thank you,” the girl replies without looking up. She pours the rest of the coffee in the sink, then goes looking for her handbag. Clint steps out of her way. “D’ailleurs, what do you need from Joshua?”

“Oh, just business,” Clint replies. “Nothing pleasant.”

“Well, I hope it’s not too unpleasant,” the girl replies as James comes down the stairs.

“We’ll see about that,” Clint says. “Are you leaving?”

“Yes, I have a date with a girlfriend,” the girl confirms, smiling at James and wrapping her arms around his shoulders. “Don’t worry, mon chéri, I’ll be back soon.”

James has gotten his act perfectly back together, putting his hands on her waist and smiling teasingly. “Wouldn’t want the champagne to go bad.”

“No, mon chéri, we wouldn’t want that,” she agrees, getting on her toes to press her lips to his and he buries his hand in her dark hair, leaning in all the way, and it’s a long, long six seconds.

She’s breathless when she falls back on her heels. Sam looks completely scandalized which she doesn’t notice. Natasha looks out of the window again. Clint just waits patiently. “Ah, mon loup, I’m going to miss you. But I really have to go.”

Bucky steals another kiss before spinning her around by the hips. “Of course. Have fun, and come back soon.”

She laughs, flipping her hair over her shoulder, waves to all of them and breezes out of the door with an “Au revoir”. Sam exhales loudly as soon as the door falls shut. “Wow. Just the nerve on you.”

“You didn’t have to barge in like that,” Bucky replies sourly, making a show out of wiping his mouth. Natasha smiles, still looking out of the window. “Jesus Christ.”

“Yeah, actually, we did,” Clint interrupts. “You have the file on Helveden, don’t you?”

Bucky snorts. “Oh, that’s why. Yeah, sure, give me a moment.”

“Oh, we didn’t drag your girlfriend here to see that just for fun,” Sam assures him.

“Let it go, Sam,” Natasha interrupts, striding over to peek through the kitchen jalousie.

“Just give us the file and we’ll be out of your hair,” Clint says to Bucky who’s loosening something behind the chimney. “The fake arm looks good, by the way.”

“I’m sure he’s made ample use of that,” Sam remarks sarcastically.

“Stop being jealous,” Natasha rejects, turning around. “I’ll make him tell me every painstaking detail of that sooner or later.”

Bucky grimaces, pulling out a bunch of thin folders. “Here. Which one are you looking for again?”

Clint takes the folders out of his hand to see for himself. Natasha pretends she’s super interested in the contents of the cupboards. Bucky crosses his arms uncomfortably. Sam is still staring at him accusingly.

“Ah, here it is,” Clint announces, putting one on the table in front of Sam. “Let’s see…”

While Sam and Clint pore over the file, Natasha gives Bucky a quick smirk but starts walking away before he can say something. “Ah, here it is,” Clint exclaims, pulling out a sheet of paper. “Come on, we can look at that in the car. We’ve already lost too much time.”

Sam gets up. Natasha leans against the table. “I’ll be there in a moment.”

Sam gives Bucky another look but he and Clint both leave the room. Bucky closes the door. Natasha smirks. “Well, it’s been a while. I see that you could have it worse.”

Bucky snorts, leaning against the chimney across from her. “I had to take Instagram selfies with her.”

Natasha grins. “I’ll check that out. So, you didn’t sleep with her?”

“Of course not,” Bucky replies. Saying they have rules is an overstatement; they have one rule (don’t sleep with other people) and a very long and meticulous discussion about what qualifies as that (hand jobs and fingering and the likes). “I’m just pushing so she thinks she can tease me by waiting.”

“Darling,” Natasha says. “You’re awfully good at this.”

“That’s something, coming from you,” Bucky remarks, smirking. “You didn’t even blink. You could’ve waited in the car.”

“Then I wouldn’t’ve seen you,” Natasha returns. “You know what you should also do?”

James looks intrigued at the prospect of getting her advice. “Yeah?”

Natasha keeps a straight face. “Fuck me on her kitchen table.”

The intrigued look breaks into a grin. “I thought you were in a hurry.”

“Ah, I’m sure they can do without me for a bit.” Natasha tilts her head back to hear better. “Guys?”

“Yeah?” Clint calls back unenthusiastically. His voice is loud and clear, leaving no doubt that they heard every word spoken in the kitchen.

“Mind if I rejoin you later?” Natasha suggests.

Clint groans. Sam mutters something about “he better not fuck that up too”. “Fine,” Clint calls back. “But we’re taking the car.”

“I’ll find a way,” Natasha replies, pushing Bucky’s hand away from her belt. “Thanks, see you.”

“And Barnes?” Sam calls, resulting in James having to pull his nose out of her hair. “You better make her lose her mind, if you know what I’m saying.”

“I didn’t hear that,” Natasha pretends while James snorts with amusement. “Bye.”

He noses her neck but she waits with her arms crossed until the door falls closed. She grins. “Sure you didn’t sleep with her?”

“Would’ve noticed,” he replies, more preoccupied with her belt, now that she’s letting him. “A little jealous, hm?”

“Oh boy.” Natasha pulls her shirt over her head. “You have no idea. Just how she touches you all the time- like she owns you.”

Bucky smirks, kissing down to her breasts. “Sounds horrible.”

“Totally,” Natasha agrees, slipping her hands into his back pockets. “And I had to watch you smooching for a whole six seconds. I counted.”

“Sorry about that,” James remarks, kissing the corner of her mouth. “I know you hate that.”

Natasha snorts, grabbing his head and pulling him in. “Be glad you didn’t touch her ass. I’d make you worship me on your knees for at least half an hour before I even consider letting you inside of me.”

“Doesn’t sound that bad,” James remarks innocently, grabbing her hips and steering her towards the short side of the table where there is no chair.

Natasha snorts. “I don’t have forever. Kiss me, you idiot.”

He does, with the same enthusiasm as he had for that girl, a thought Natasha deliberately ignores. She almost tastes her. God. She pushes him back. “Okay, nope. On your knees.”

He’s pulling at her shoes before she’s even sitting on the table. She shakes them off. His eyes are still bright, not minding the punishment, enjoying it in fact. She holds her foot in front of his face. “Socks off. Suck on the toes.”

His thumb rubs the arch of her foot and he grins before taking the big toe into his mouth. Natasha sighs, folding her hands in her lap. “Been a while, hasn’t it? Good to see you back in your place.”

James snorts around her toe, digging in his thumb to the point where it’s almost painful. Natasha wriggles her foot until he kisses his way over the top. “Really too bad you can’t talk back right now, don’t you think?”

He bites above her ankle, making her flinch. “Can I take off your pants? Pretty please?”

“Well, since you’re asking so nicely,” Natasha replies, slipping off the table. Her belt is open already anyway. James gets up but gets distracted by his hands on her ass. “Come on. We’re not getting ahead here.”

“Really,” James states with a serious face, still kneading her behind. “You think so?”

Natasha snorts, getting to her toes to try to distract him with a kiss but she can’t reach. “What happened to pants off?”

“Oh, right.” He smiles, giving her a quick kiss and her ass another squeeze. “Almost forgot.”

She snorts again while he wriggles her ankles out of her pants. “Your new girlfriend will come back.”

“Ah, she won’t,” he assures her, running his hand over the inside of her thigh. “You don’t know how much time she can spend with a glass of prosecco. Also, I don’t care.”

Natasha sighs, closing her eyes. “Fine. Go ahead.”

He teases his way up with his fingers. “With what? Gotta be more specific.”

She opens her eyes just to roll them at him. “Come on. And if you rip my panties, I’ll punch you in the face.”

He grins, lowering her back on the table while effortlessly opening her bra. “Note taken. You still need some work or…?”

“I don’t know, go check,” Natasha says, raising her hips. “And if I taste her on your lips again, I swear to God.”

He drops to his knees without hesitation, carefully peeling her panties off. Natasha grins at the ceiling while he licks over her folds. “Oh, you don’t know how much I would enjoy her coming in right now.”

“Not as much as you will her not coming in,” he replies in a husky voice before pushing his tongue into her. He’s probably wrong. No, he’s probably right. His tongue rubs around her entrance deliciously.

His thumb finds her clit. The left. Not that it matters, now. She sighs at his careful ministrations. “When was the last time you turned that off?”

“Last time we fucked,” he replies barely intelligible. “Month or so.”

“Mhm.” She lets her head drop to the side. She can see the Atlantic through the kitchen window. “Hate it?”

He rubs a little more firmly. “Kinda.”

“Funny, isn’t it,” she breathes, jerking up suddenly. “Ah! Careful.”

He grins, switching his mouth and his fingers. She rolls her eyes, settling back. “Just saying. You used to hate the metal.”

“Yeah,” he agrees, flapping his tongue against her. “But right now, it means I have to make out with that other girl. Of course I prefer bending you over.”

Natasha blushes just thinking about last time. Boy, she had been needy. Wax in his hands. The jealousy was keeping that down right now, at least. “Told you you wouldn’t get to take me from behind again.”

“What, sounded a lot like you enjoyed it,” he retorts smugly, neglecting her clit but crooking his fingers to prevent her from coming up with a sarcastic reply that would detract from the memory of her begging him to go harder. “I like seeing your ass while we fuck. But if you’d rather not, I don’t need it.”

“Yeah, yeah, we’ve been over that,” Natasha interrupts, arching her back mostly so that he can’t see her face. “Now do something useful with that mouth, for Christ’s sake.”

Ordering him around is much better for her pride and her sense of independence. Also, she really needs him to suck on her clit. She relaxes when his fingers rub over the certain part of her inner wall, then tenses up again, breath accelerating, back arching, and comes in less than 15 seconds. How it’s supposed to be. He gets the angle a little wrong after that so it takes a bit more work each time but he rubs her insistently with only short breath catching pauses after orgasms. His tongue toys with the nub of her clitoris. After a few minutes and half a dozen orgasms, she realizes he’s not stopping. Right. Left hand. They could still be here in a couple of hours when Bambi has finished guzzling her prosecco and going over all the gossip with her equally bitchy girlfriend. Unless Natasha gets sore first.

She’s kind of fine with that, at the moment. He focuses a bit more on the sucking without stopping the fingering. Half an hour, she said? Ah, she can’t do that. Ah. Feels good, though. But Clint is going to be pissed. And she’ll be so fucked out she’d say yes to everything. After having been a total slut last time, that’d give James a wrong impression of her, now that they see each other so little. Jesus Christ, she still worries about what her boyfriend thinks about her. After all this time. Ah, fuck. She comes again.

His mouth still gets tired, though, so he stops sucking after a bit. Fingering is also fine with her, but God, she longs for something bigger. She wiggles her toes to make sure she can still move. Oh, she can. But she can also lie on Bambi’s kitchen table staring out of Bambi’s window with the sea view and get pleasured by her boyfriend who is hers alone, no matter what. Then again, getting his dick inside of her, because that’s the only place he gets to stick it…

Her thought process is interrupted by another orgasm. Okay, God, that’s enough. She pushes against his forehead, too lazy to make words or sentences. He pulls out his fingers, licking them clean, then laps up the rest of her juices. She almost comes again just from that. She looks at him mesmerized when he gets back on his feet. “James?”

He smirks, putting his hands on her thighs and leaning forward. “Hm?”

She grins up at him, stomach fluttering. “Drop your pants.”

“Oh God, you’re still bossy,” he remarks amusedly, pulling his socks off.

“Why did you even get dressed in the first place,” Natasha asks, hands splayed over her stomach, while he strips down to his briefs. “I and Bambi certainly wouldn’t have minded.”

He snorts. “You always call them that.”

“Yeah, cause they are cute and all,” Natasha admits. “But also wrapped up in some really dirty shit.”

He drops the briefs as well. Oh boy, the anticipation. “I doubt the real Bambi had that many skeletons in its closet. Without condom?”

Natasha grins. “Sure, if you didn’t sleep with her. Why are you asking, did she already get some in anticipation of fucking you?”

He snorts, positioning himself between her legs. “I doubt they’re specifically for me, but, yeah. Bedside drawer.”

Natasha doesn’t get to answer because he pushes into her. God, the friction. She digs her heels into his ass and pulls him all the way in. Ah. Yeah, that’s precisely what she wanted. She’d probably be dripping on the floor by now if he hadn’t cleaned her with his tongue earlier.

There is nothing but her on his lips now, not even when she swipes her tongue through his mouth. He groans. He’s holding her hips at the right angle, too, so she suddenly jerks up, contracting around him. God. She’s so glad Bambi doesn’t get to do that. She drops her head and shoulders, basking in it for a moment. James starts fucking her.

Her sweaty back sticks on the table already. Well, unlike him, she already has the bulk of her orgasms behind her. Probably. Sometimes, it’s… but probably not without a condom.

She grabs his shoulders and pulls him and her together halfway, showering him with devouring kisses. Hers. He’s hers. She can’t scratch his back to remind him but he probably gets the message anyway. No, she’s not insecure. God, she wishes she could mark him in some way but she can’t if he’s lounging almost naked in another woman’s bed. Fuck. She throws her head back, letting the convulsions wash over her.

“How’s your mind?” he asks, voice strained, and she doesn’t get what he’s talking about. She gets the way his dick is pounding into her and that’s about it. Her confusion must be showing, either on her face or in her silence. “Well, Sam said I had to, so…”

“I don’t give a fuck what Sam says,” Natasha replies, meeting his thrusts. “But yeah, do what you have to.”

He snorts, clearly not satisfied with her answer. “Come on. If you’re not there yet, I’ll find a way.”

His self-control is, frankly, admirable but also nowhere near infinite. She groans when he has the nerve to slow down. “Don’t do that. I’d rather have you come earlier than get fucked flimsily.”

He rolls his eyes, picking up the pace where he left off. “So you’re… semi-out of your mind?”

She’s sweating, that’s for certain. “Guess so,” she moans. “Can’t always have five-star-sex, right? Sometimes, four has to be enough.”

James looks personally offended. “Four?”

“And a half,” she adds. “As long as you’re not fucking Bambi better…”

He snorts. “That arrogant bitch? Oh, hell no.”

“All I wanted to hear,” Natasha manages before succumbing to the throes of her orgasm. He’s licking her breasts when her head stops spinning, smile on his lips. “And her ass isn’t all that great.”

James makes an affirmative noise, squeezing her ass with his left and also slowly starting to rock into her again. Natasha grins. “Then again, maybe I don’t have the best ass in the world either.”

“Lies,” James breathes against her skin. “Nothing but lies.”

She lets her head drop to the side again, staring out of the window hazily. She’s not that pressed anymore so she lets him pick a comfortable pace. The magic of a dozen orgasms. If you divided that over a month, you’d get around three orgasms a week. Seems reasonable. She smirks, looking at the kitchen. “Mhm, but maybe you should bend her over the sink so she can look at the ocean while you bang her. Maybe she’d like that.”

He groans. “I don’t give that much of a damn about what she wants. And stop pretending I’ll cheat on you just because you said no to me coming from behind.”

She knows he won’t, but that doesn’t stop her from thinking about it. She’s not insecure. She’s so comfortable in her own skin she doesn’t even feel slutty for begging him last time. And bringing that up now doesn’t say anything at all. She moans a little louder at his thrusts.

He groans again, visibly tense. “What about you? What do you want?”

“Oh, you can finish like that,” Natasha replies, turning her head towards him. “I think I already plateaued.”

He kisses her and a fresh wave of arousal curses through her lower body. Maybe he could wring another orgasm from her if he really tried. Boy, if she had let him toil longer on his knees, she would probably be nowhere near done. Sky’s the limit.

He’s not going particularly fast because he can’t anymore, but she’s also sensitive so it’s for the best. She smirks, threading her legs over his shoulders so she’s essentially folded in half. Yeah, feels much better. He smirks back briefly, lifting up her ass. She groans. Oh God, she’s not done. Not at all. “Faster.”

“Bossy,” he remarks, leaning in to bite her neck. She snorts, digging her heels into his back, pulling herself up against him. Fuck. Yes. He groans, slowing down again. She grabs onto his hair, hard. Barely catches herself before sinking her nails into his back. He bites his lip, stopping for a second before throwing caution and control out of the window, pounding into her at a brutal pace. She gasps and moans, arching up against him. She tries to slip a hand between them because she needs to get there, right now, but can’t manage it and just drops back and takes it. Hangs in for the ride. She barely feels how she’s being thrust around, only where he hits her inner wall and how that sends shivers through her. She turns her fingertips up for fear of losing control. Her sudden contractions push him over the edge.

She drops back onto the table, breathing heavily, while he still holds on to her thighs like a madman. She bites her lip when she feels him throbbing inside of her. Always gets her. It’s such a small motion, compared to what he was doing to her before, but somehow it’s just as effective, if not more. Maybe because it’s unexpected. Or because she likes him coming inside of her.

He drops his head next to hers on the table. Her heaving chest presses against her shoulders. She smiles and turns her head to kiss his cheek. “Hey.”

He snorts, pushing himself up slowly to look at her. “You’re gonna run away again, aren’t you?”

“Yup.” She stretches, her back sticking to the table. “But I’m glad I stayed.”

“If you say four and a half stars again, I swear to God,” he threatens, pushing his hair out of his sweaty face.

“Don’t make me rate everything,” she replies, stretching her legs. “And you better wipe the table before Bambi comes back.”

He sighs, gripping the edge of the table. “You know I could… stop? If it really bothers you. Like, not right now, that would be really inconvenient but-”

“It’s okay,” Natasha interrupts, touching his chest. “I don’t have to like it but getting planted in the mob, you gotta do what you gotta do. I don’t tell you what I do either. And blasting in like that is not fair, I should have stayed in the car. Just wanted to see you.”

He smirks, tucking her hair behind her ear. “Didn’t like what you saw?”

“Oh boy,” she replies. “Makes my blood boil just thinking about it. Oh, and you better find a real good excuse why you can’t sleep with her really soon, cause you looked just delicious in that bed.”

He snorts. “I’m not gonna be around here much longer, don’t worry.”

Natasha groans when he slips out of her. “Reassuring, indeed. I have no fucking clue where that list leads us, unfortunately.”

She holds her knees to her chest while he gets a wet cloth. “Do you ever worry because our relationship essentially consists of scheduling hook-ups?”

“All the time,” Natasha admits, looking at the ceiling. “We should, I don’t know, have dinner or something and talk stuff over. But then, every time I see you… can’t help it.”

“That’s such a good excuse,” he remarks, carefully wiping between her legs. “Like, you’re always in perfect control of your emotions and reactions, but you just can’t help fucking me?”

She snorts. “You’ve been undercover for too long. Gone completely cynical.”

“Maybe,” he admits, putting the cloth down and pushing a finger inside of her.

“Oh God.” Her back arches again. “Really? And now you think I’m not going to disappear as long as you’re fingering me?”

He snorts. “We really need some time off. Both of us. A week without any distractions. A weekend, if that’s all there is.”

She smirks, breathing faster. “Mhm. You don’t think we can fuck for a week straight?”

“Darling,” he says. “You’re gonna get hungry at some point.”

“Right. Forgot food existed,” she admits, clutching onto his arm.

“I keep wishing the world would just… stop.” He shakes his head. “Deep conversations while fucking are kind of our specialty, right? Always have been.”

“Never enough time,” Natasha manages, groaning. “Yes.”

He doesn’t say anything, just gets her off. She smirks suddenly, cooling down. “And you really let her call you my wolf?”

He snorts. “Oh, boy, I’m so glad when I’m out of here.”

#buckynat smutathon #buckynat #natasha romanoff #black widow #bucky barnes #winter soldier #sam wilson #falcon #clint barton #hawkeye #my writing #fanfic

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flowerspecial · 6 years ago

Text

Calum College Series: Part 4

Warning: A lil’ bit of smut

As soon as Mollie read the text from Calum, a wash of nerves flooded over her. She began to feel quite jittery and started to tidy her things in her room. Truth be told, her room was immaculate, she was always one for keeping her room tidy, but she couldn’t just sit there and do nothing. She wasn’t sure why she was so nervous; she had practically been joined at the hip with Calum since they had met. However, she couldn’t shake the feeling that there was something that felt a little bit more intense about this meeting. Ava watched Mollie scurry around her dorm with a bemused expression.

“Mollie,” Ava began, getting Mollie’s attention. “I doubt Calum will really care if you have a couple of pillows on the floor. He’s coming to see you, not the room.” Mollie looked at Ava with a stressed expression.

“I just want everything to be nice, I don’t want him tripping over. What happens if he falls over, breaks his leg and then hates me forever?” Mollie began to panic again as she frantically picked up all her clothes and shoes off the floor, trying to organise them to the edges of the room.

“Don’t you think you’re overthinking just a bit?” Mollie gave Ava an exasperated look as if Ava was silly for not thinking about every possible outcome of the night.

Meanwhile, Calum had probably the quickest shower he had ever had. He didn’t want to keep Mollie waiting any longer. He knew that he was only going around intending to study, but he couldn’t help but wish for something more. When he walked back to his dorm, he noticed Ashton hadn’t moved from that morning.

“Have you actually been out of this room today?” Calum was rummaging through his closet for something to wear. He didn’t want to look too dressed up. Otherwise she might think that he is expecting something, but he didn’t want to look too casual; otherwise she might think that he doesn’t care.

“Not really, I thought about it, I really did. I was sick twice so I thought it would be better not to bother.” Ashton hadn’t even bothered to get changed out of last night’s clothes; his hangover had truly defeated him.

“Well, I think you should get dressed and give Ava a call.”

“And why do you think that?” Ashton lent up on his elbow and looked at Calum. Calum was pulling on some grey sweatpants and a white t-shirt. He thought it was casual but friendly.

“Because I’m about to go to Mollie’s to study, and if Ava is in the room, I know she will feel more awkward,” Calum started, as he sprayed himself with some cologne. “And so, if you invite Ava round here, or even go out, not only will you actually be able to get to know her, but Mollie might be more comfortable around me.”

Ashton took a few seconds to contemplate Calum’s proposition. Not wanting to be one of those guys who only talks to a girl when he’s drunk, he decided Calum was right, and it would be worth seeing if he liked Ava as much sober as he did drunk.

“Fine, give me like 10 minutes, and I’ll give her a call.”

“I’ll head over to hers now, that way it won’t look so suspicious like I’ve told you to get Ava out the way for me.”

“But that is exactly what it is.”

“I know, but I don’t want it to seem that way. She might get the wrong idea.” With that, Calum grabbed his bag and headed over to Mollie’s dorm.

Calum knocked on the door hesitantly, he was so nervous about this night he even doubted how he knocked. Was it too hard? Too soft? Too many knocks? Not enough? It was fair to say Calum was going a bit crazy in his thoughts, so he was thankful when Mollie answered the door. She looked slightly dishevelled as if she had been running around her room for a while. Quickly trying to fix her appearance, she brushed her hair with her fingers and pressed down her clothes.

“Please come in, sorry if my room is a mess.” Calum moved past her and put his bag on the floor near her bed. Calum didn’t understand what she was on about, her room looked immaculate. Mollie watched Calum as he walked into her room. She was rubbing her arm anxiously, trying to stop the blush from creeping up on her face. She didn’t understand why he had such an effect on her. As he lent next to her bed, he looked at Mollie with loving eyes. The two shared an intimate moment of looking into each other’s eyes from across the room until a rather loud notification pinged on Ava’s phone.

“Well I’m sorry to interrupt this cute as Disney moment, but Ash has just messaged, so I’ll be heading out. Stay safe, wrap it up.” Ava quickly grabbed her stuff and headed out of the room. Calum took a moment to study Mollie’s reaction to Ava’s crude comment. When he noticed how visibly uncomfortable, she was, staring at the ground with her arms and legs crossed, he decided it would be better not to rush anything. He wanted the ball to be in Mollie’s court.

“So..what do you want to start with? We could start by looking over the module. Or we could look over what we did today? Or if you had any suggestions, I’m all ears.” Mollie rambled on, trying to compose herself enough to look at Calum without going bright red.

Calum took out his pen and paper, trying to save Mollie from her obvious embarrassment. “We could start with the module; it would be good to see when all of our tests will be. God knows I’m going to need all the time to revise I can get.”

“Okay great! I won’t lie to you, I may have already filled in my diary with the dates of our tests and stuff,” Mollie began. Calum laughed at her small confession. “But I’m more than happy to help you with yours. I have loads of colourful pens and stuff. We can make it really pretty!” Calum thought it was cute how much she cared about making all her college stuff look beautiful. It was refreshing compared to his approach, he used the same black pen all throughout the year and then just shoved his work in a folder.

Calum climbed onto her bed, pulling a cushion to put behind his back. He patted the bed to invite Mollie to sit next to him. Unlike last time, she sat quite close to Calum, making him smile.

They began to organise the tests onto a document for Calum. Calum let Mollie take complete control, as he found himself being in complete awe of her smile. He could look at her all day, and he knew that his heart would practically burst if he were ever the reason for her smile. Once they had finished organising Calum’s college schedule, Mollie even organised his classes that she wasn’t in, they came to a natural pause, not knowing what else to do. All Calum knew was that he didn’t want the night to end, so he needed to think of an excuse so he could stay longer.

“If you want, we can watch a film or something on Netflix. There is this new documentary that I’m dying to watch.” This time it was Calum who felt nervous. He looked at the newly written class planner as he spoke. He knew that if looked at Mollie his nerves would give him away.

“Yeah, sure! I mean, that sounds like fun. Let’s pack up all this stuff, and I’ll get my laptop.” She leapt off the bed and started to pack the stuff away. Not wanting to be intrusive, she pilled all of Calum’s things into a neat pile and placed it next to his bag. Grabbing her laptop off her desk, she climbed back onto her bed. While she was packing away, Calum had made himself at home, laying down on her bed and fluffing the pillows. He had pulled the Sherpa blanket from the bottom of the bed over himself. Mollie thought he looked adorable and grabbed at her side of the blanket so she could get close to him. Calum told her the name of the documentary, and she found it Netflix quickly and started to play it. Calum placed his arm across the pillows so she could lean back onto it and snuggle into him. Weirdly enough, this moment should have made both of them nervous, but something felt so natural about being in Calum’s arms.

“Is this okay?” Calum asked.

“Yeah, it’s nice, is it okay for you?” Mollie was laying inwards so she could face Calum. She was looking at him, searching his eyes for any sort of objection to their position. Calum kissed the top of her head softly and averted his eyes towards the laptop. She giggled softly in response and placed her head on his shoulder, placing one hand on his chest. Calum was hoping to the Gods that she couldn’t feel how fast his heart was beating. He wanted to seem calm and confident, but he knew his racing heart would give him away.

They stayed in that position for a couple of hours, watching multiple episodes of the documentary. Only Calum couldn’t seem to focus on what was on the screen, he kept glancing down to look at Mollie. He wanted to take in every last thing about her, the way her eyes crinkled when she smiled, the fact that her hair seemed to glisten in the light, and the way she balled her fist into his shirt whenever she got scared. The last one had a very different effect on Calum, and he was struggling to handle his emotions. His mind kept wandering to what Mollie would look like lying on the bed, grabbing at the sheets beneath her as he kissed down her body.

Wanting to test the waters, Calum dipped his head down and gently kissed Mollie’s cheek. Mollie blushed profusely but tilted her head so he could have better access to her face and neck. He kissed her forehead, her nose, her cheeks, and then finally her lips. She was smiling into the kiss, making Calum’s heart swell. He repositioned them so Mollie was lying closer to the bed and Calum was more on his side. He pulled away to stare into her eyes, savouring the moment.

He slowly moved to her neck, leaving small marks where he had nipped at the skin. Hearing her quiet moans only made him more eager to carry on. He softly pulled on Mollie’s t-shirt.

“Can I take this off?” He asked, looking into her eyes.

“Yes.” He took her top off, throwing it on to the ground. Mollie quickly tried to cover herself up by crossing her arms. Calum placed a kiss just above her heart and then looked back at her.

“Please don’t cover yourself, angel, you look beautiful.” She slowly uncrossed her arms and then placed them by her sides. Calum continued his trail of kisses down her chest. He took a moment to kiss each of her breasts, admiring the beauty in front of him. Every other kiss or so he made sure to place a kiss on Mollie’s lips, to reassure her that she should be one hundred per cent comfortable around him.

As Calum got to the waistband of her shorts, he once again asked her if he could remove the item of clothing. When she didn’t say anything, he pulled away from her. She looked at him with a quizzical look and searched his eyes for answers.

“Why did you stop?” She asked, trying to cover herself once again.

“You didn’t say anything. I need you to say yes angel, I don’t want you to do anything you aren’t happy with.” Calum replied. Mollie was filled with joy with Calum’s response, she had thought boys like this only existed in fairy tales, she couldn’t believe that she had someone this fantastic right in front of her.

Relaxing again, Mollie uncrossed her arms back and said, “please carry on Calum, I want you to.” Calum was more than happy to oblige. He took off her shorts, kissing further and further down. He placed two kisses onto each hip bone. He had a couple of fingers toying with the band of her underwear, he looked up at her again questioningly.

“Yes.”

Calum smiled and removed her underwear. He positioned himself, so he was closer to her core, he noticed that she was tensing so kissed up her inner thighs to try and relax her.

“If you want me to stop, say, and I will.”

Calum started off gently, rubbing soft circles on her clit. As she wriggled around on the bed, he wanted to kick it up a notch. He started by pumping one finger inside of her, watching her face looking for her reaction. Her face was screwed up yet there was still a smile, her fists were beginning to grab the blanket that was now underneath them. Content with this reaction, he added another finger and began to swirl his tongue in small tight circles on her clit.

Mollie felt like she was on cloud nine. She couldn’t understand how he was so good at this, not that she minds. The pleasure she was feeling was like ecstasy.

She could feel the pit of her stomach beginning to tighten as Calum hit a particular spot inside of her.

“Oh my god, this feels so good.” She moaned. Calum hummed in response which only added to the intoxicating sensation she was feeling. Her breathing was quickening as was her heartbeat.

“I’m so close. Please don’t stop.” She pleaded as she tensed around Calum’s fingers. This spurred Calum on to kick it up a notch as he pumped his fingers even quicker.

“Cum for me angel, I want to feel you.” Mollie felt herself release around her fingers, she let out a muffled moan as she had placed her hand over her mouth so her neighbours couldn’t hear. Calum pulled away from her and grabbed a tissue from the desk to clean his face and hands. When Mollie got her breath back, he kissed her passionately.

“Thank you for letting me do that,” Calum whispered as he brushed his nose against her. Mollie couldn’t believe that he was thanking her, he had just given her the most incredible orgasm she had felt in a long time, yet he was thanking her.

“I should be saying thank you to you, that was amazing!” Calum grabbed her t-shirt and shorts for her so she could cover herself up if she wanted to. She gratefully took them from him and put them back on.

“You don’t need to thank me, that was amazing for me too!” They kissed gently again as they were smiling at each other.

They were tangled up in each other’s arms, embracing the closeness of each other. Calum was stroking Mollie’s hair as she traced circles on his chest. Their attention was pulled away from each other when the door loudly banged onto the wall.

“Oh, shit sorry guys, I thought you would have gone by now,” Ava said with Ashton in tow. “I just came to grab something, but I’ll be out in a second.”

Ashton smirked at Calum as he saw how close they were. Calum rolled his eyes in response and started to detangle himself from Mollie’s grip.

“No worries, I should probably get going anyway, I have a 9am tomorrow.” Mollie sat up as she watched Calum gather his stuff together. She couldn’t help but smile that he had come over to study physics, yet they ended up studying something a little bit different.

Calum placed a gentle kiss on Mollie’s forehead and said goodbye. He left with Ava and Ashton.

“So, how was studying?” Ashton asked Calum, looking for any tell-tale signs that anything more had happened.

“Oh, you know, it was alright,” Calum smirked back as he headed back to his dorm, leaving Ava and Ashton.

Part 5

#5sos #calum 5sos #calum hood #calum imagine #calum au #ashton 5sos #ashton irwin #5sos imagine #5sos au

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