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maladaptive-day-dreams · 2 years

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Chapter 2: It Didn't Matter

2.9k words Content warning: (not a fun chapter again, sorry), mention of parental neglect, mention not being wanted, use of Queer as a slur (being queer myself, this hurt me to do), coming out story, fluff, cute lil friendship, first kiss, mention of fighting

Authors Note: Tense switches briefly depending on section. Please let me know if I missed any warnings!!

Tags: @and-claudia

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That day in December didn’t matter to Eddie, he still invited me to sit with him and his friends at lunch, sat next to me in any and all classes we had together, saved me a seat on the bus and waved goodbye to me when we got off the bus to head to our own trailers.

I never understood why he let it go until the summer between 8th and 9th grade. Mom and Dad put up with me hanging out with Eddie, though they always let me know they don’t like it whenever I come home for dinner on evenings when he and I spent the few hours between school and dinner together.

“He’s trailer park trash, Y/N. Leave him be. No one talks highly of him and his uncle,” Mom says one night over dinner.

I almost choke on my food. “We’re trailer park trash too, mom, we literally live across the street from them.”

I should’ve just left it alone but I hated hearing her talk down about Eddie and Mr. Munson. They were the only kind people I knew in Hawkins. I taste the blood from my bitten cheek before I feel the sting of my mom’s hand.

“Shut your mouth you ungrateful brat,” she spits. “You’re done. Go to your room.” She gets up and yanks my plate away, tossing it in the sink.

I wipe my mouth on my napkin and silently make my way to my room. Looking across the street, I see Eddies bedroom light on and think to myself he probably doesn’t have to deal with this with Uncle Wayne. I went to bed early that night.

Eddie and I continued to grow closer, despite my parents hating it and him. I’m not sure how but Mr. Munson was able to convince Mom and Dad to let me stay over with them every now and again so the rest of that summer I was at the Munson’s almost every day and night.

* * *

The last night of the summer before freshman year marked the night Eddie and I became true best friends. That day, Eddie and I went clothes shopping with the $50 Dad gave me to update my wardrobe. Eddie constantly steals my shirts, my Metallica one is basically his now and I keep finding my Led Zeppelin tee under his bed so I decided I’d share my clothes money to get Eddie a new outfit that he liked better. Before I went over to get Eddie to head to the mall, mom decided I had done something wrong again. And so, here I am splashing cold tap water on my cheek to try and make the redness go down.

I suck it up after a few minutes and pat my cheek dry, deciding to just pinch my other cheek so they were both red. I rush out of the house and jog over to the Munson trailer just as Eddie was exiting.

“I was just coming to see if we we’re still on for shopping today,” Eddie smiled.

“Yup we are! Sorry, had to finish up some chores before Mom would let me leave.”

We fall into step beside each other and make the trek to the mall. It takes us around 20 minutes to finally get there, and of course we are both hot and sweaty now because of the Summer heat.

“First, things first,” I say as we head inside the poorly air conditioned mini mall. “Lemonade.”

We head straight to the one food vendor in the mall and get a large lemonade to share as we walk. There aren’t many stores here, a few small chains, but we head straight for the big thrift store at the end.

“Ok so, what are we looking for Eds?” I ask sorting through the hangers of t-shirts. “We definitely need to get you your own Metallica and Zeppelin tees so I can have mine back.”

“What?” Eddie gasps. “I don’t know what you’re talking about, I don’t know where your Zeppelin shirt is.”

We meet eyes over the clothes racks and we bursts out laughing. “Alright alright, definitely those two so I can give yours back,” he chuckles. “Maybe some black skinny jeans? And a jean jacket, I want to make a battle vest this year.”

“Oooh if we bring Hellfire to life this year we should get some plain t-shirts to design for us and anyone who joins.”

“(Y/N) that’s brilliant!”

We share a smile and go back to scouring the racks for a new outfit for Eddie. After I find him some cool graphic tees and a jean jacket I head to the girls section for my own clothes, taking some graphic tees with me from the guys section. I grab a few pairs of jeans and even a skirt and dress—which I don’t normally wear—and meet Eddie at the changing rooms.

After a few minutes Eddie pipes up from the room next to me, “ok I think I like this outfit for the first day of school.”

“Gimmie one sec and I’ll come out too!”

I slip the tight plaid skirt up my thighs and half tuck the Blondie band tee in the front, before stepping out of my dressing room.

Eddie is looking in the big mirror outside the rooms, looking more like himself and way more confident than in the clothes he’s gotten from Wayne or church clothing drives. He’s in black skinny jeans, a little on the worn side but not too bad, and an Iron Maiden shirt, he also was somehow able to find new-ish white sneakers and a wallet chain for his belt loops.

“No offense to Uncle Wayne, but that looks a lot better than your usual gas station tee and khaki pants,” I smile. “Does the jean jacket fit? Will it work for your vest?”

Eddie turns around to answer and stops short, “(Y/N) you look so fucking cool.”

I laugh and say thanks before asking again, “does the jean jacket fit?”

“Oh yeah! It’s perfect and will work great for the vest.”

“Cool cool, so, is this your outfit? These are what you want?”

“Yeah I think so, you said I can borrow $15 right?”

“Just bring out what you want, we’ll figure out the money when we check out.”

We both disappear back into our respective dressing rooms and change back into the clothes we came in. I fold my small pile of clothes and carry them out in one hand, my hand me down purse slung over my other shoulder. Eddie is already outside of his room with his own pile of clothes.

“Alright hand it over,” I say, empty arm reaching for Eddie’s pile of clothes.

“What? No we have to see how much money it comes to.”

“Don’t be ridiculous, gimme your pile Eddie, I’m not gonna make you put anything back.”

Eddie’s eyes go wide, “How? What?”

“Ugh alright then just walk up to the register with me,” I sigh. “I’ve been saving my measly allowance the entire summer so I could cover everything we found today.”

“(Y/N) that’s too much, I can’t accept that.”

“Then go outside so you don’t see the total,” I tease. We get to the register and once Eddie puts his pile on the counter I turn and push him towards the door. “Ok byeeee, I’ll be out in a minute!”

Eddie huffs but does leave the store so I can buy our goodies. In total, Eddie found the sneakers, two pairs of jeans, four band tees and the jean jacket while I got four band tees, one skirt, one dress and a worn down but still decent pair of converse. I also was able to find two white baseball tees with black sleeves for our future D&D t-shirts and secretly found a few pins and patches for Eddies future battle vest.

“Alright darlin, that’ll be $67.50,” the cash lady said after stuffing everything in three plastic bags.

I hand her the $50 bill dad gave me and then counted out $18 ones, handing over the crumpled money with an apology. “Sorry, I get my allowance in ones.”

The woman smacks her gum loudly while counting the money again and then drops the fifty cents and receipt in my hand. I mumble thanks and grab the three bags from the counter. I found Eddie leaning agains the glass windows of the storefront and he takes two of my three bags with a sheepish thank you.

“You didn’t have to do that,” he mumbled.

“Shut up Eddie, I wanted to, plus this way we both look cool as fuck the first day of freshman year.”

Eddie smiles at that and we head out of the mall and back towards home. We get home as Uncle Wayne is leaving, “Oh good I caught ya. I got called in to work the night shift and wanted to make sure you two are ok to stay home alone.”

We nod and say g’night to Uncle Wayne as he backs out of the driveway and Eddie and I just hang out in his room the whole night. Bedtime is non-existent since Uncle Wayne wasn’t home and we end up staying up and talking and reading together all night.

“How’s your cheek?” Eddie asks, drawing my eyes from The Hobbit.

“What?” I ask, pulling my head up from where it hung off the edge of the bed and sitting criss-cross applesauce on his bed.

“It was red this afternoon, when you came by?” He questions. “I know you don’t talk about it but you can. I get it, I really do.

His voice sounds like it’s dripping with pity. I never wanted him to pity me, he’s the one person I can’t take that from.

“I don’t need your pity, Eddie,” I respond, sliding off his bed and getting ready to leave. I can’t do this today, not when school starts tomorrow.

“My dad hit me too,” he says softly. I look at him and his eyes are so, glassy, he looks so broken and my heart breaks with his mask as he lets a few tears out.

“Eds” is all I can get out as I get back on his bed and hug him. We cry for a bit together, just holding each other.

“It started in 5th grade,” he says, breaking the hug and laying his head back on his pillows. I shuffled to the space between him and the wall and laid beside him, staying quiet so he could let go. “My dad found me in my mom’s room with her makeup on and using one of her skirts as a dress,” he laughs. “A quick smack to the face and no dinner was enough to get me to stop ’messing around and acting queer.’”

I kept quiet but held his hand in mine to give him some support.

“I didn’t stop though, I just tried to get better at hiding it. Sometimes I’d get caught. It was the worst in 6th grade. Mom had let me have a classmate over to work on homework and hang out, and Dad got home earlier than I thought he would,” he paused and took a deep breath. “He walked in on me kissing him, my classmate, and he yelled so much. He called my classmate’s parents and yelled at them but saved the belt for after they came to pick him up. That classmate was pulled from school because everything started circulating our town. Dad never forgave me for the ‘stain’ I left on his family’s name.”

“Eds, I’m so sorry,” I can’t think of what else to say.

“It’s okay, Y/N. Really, that’s how I ended up here with my Uncle Wayne. He adopted me just before you showed up, he doesn’t question me. I came out to him when he first brought up adopting me,” he laughs. “He was confused what ‘pan’ meant and accepted it as well as he could with being unfamiliar with it. I remember he said ‘who ya love doesn’t matter boy, it’s how you love them and how they love you,’” he says in his best Uncle Wayne impression. “‘As long as you love each other the best you can, who they are doesn’t matter to me. I just wanna see you happy, alright?’”

He turns and smiles at me. I smile back, “thank you for being comfy enough with me to tell me.”

“You’re my best friend, of course I was gonna tell you.”

I take a deep breath.

“My parents never wanted me,” I start, and he squeezes my hand. “And they never miss an opportunity to tell me that either. Dad knocked Mom up senior year so they had a shotgun wedding right after graduation and I showed up two months later. It’s gotten worse the last few years, especially before we moved here. I actually got kicked out of my old school for punching my girlfriends bully in the face when she called her a lesbian—that’s why we moved. We were best friends and girlfriends but we tried our best to hide that. No kissing, hand holding to a minimum, that kind of stuff. Mom gave me a right big welt on my cheek that night when I told her the rumor was true. She was mostly angry that I ‘ended up a queer' even though I told her I was bi and could still end up with a husband. She didn’t care though, and then Dad took it worse. He yelled a lot, threatened to send me to conversion camp or boarding school but we could barely afford new clothes for me at that point so I know they were empty threats. And then we packed everything up and moved here.”

“It was fate.”

“What?” I laugh.

“Fate or someone up there knew that us two lil gay middle schoolers needed to find each other by high school so we could conquer the world together,” he smiles, mock stabbing the air with an invisible sword.

“You’re such a dork,” I laugh. “But now we’re stuck with each other,” I say rolling onto my stomach.

Eddie follows suit. “We know each other’s biggest darkest secrets. Promise that we’ll always be there for each other?” He asks, pinky outstretched to me.

“Always,” I say, intertwining our pinkies. “Promise we’ll get married to each other if we aren’t married by 30?”

He lets out a laugh and takes my pinky in his again, “promise, married by 30.”

* * *

In fall of 9th grade, Eddie was why I got punched in the face by Jason—I tried to stop him from continuing to hit Eddie. Funny how it was Jason’s fault but as soon as the boy cried self-defense from the ‘queers,’ Eddie and I were the ones suspended. The nice thing was that it was only a few days before Christmas break so we got a bit of an extra long break.

Mom wasn’t so happy though so my break wasn’t much fun after I went back to my own trailer.

* * *

The summer before 10th grade, Eddie was my first kiss. I mentioned it out of pocket one evening while we’re sitting on his bed, side by side, back on the mattress and legs up on the wall.

“I can’t believe I made it all the way through freshman year without getting kissed,” I groan, pressing my palms into my eyes. “What kind of a loser hasn’t been kissed by now? I mean come on! It could’ve been a boy or a girl! I had double the options! But nope!”

Eddie chuckles and then slides his legs from the wall and sits up. Confused, I do the same and we sit face to face. “Kiss me!”

“I’m sorry what?!” I ask baffled.

“Look we’re best friends, best friends do this kind of stuff for each other. A girl as pretty as you shouldn’t go into high school without having a first kiss, soooo kiss me to get it over with! Nothing has to change, it’s not like we like each other,” he explains.

I look at him questioningly. “I don’t know, Eds.”

“Just trust me will you? It’ll be fine,” he says scooting towards me. It’s awkward, for sure, but also we were best friends and by this point he had told me about every kiss he had in 8th and 9th grade—both boys and girls—so he obviously had to know what he was doing. Right? And he was right, we don’t like each other, we’re best friends that would be weird.

“Ready?” He asks, a big grin on his face.

“As ready as I’ll ever be,” I laugh. We shift from sitting to kneeling, kneecaps touching and Eddie starts to lean in.

And then I laugh much too hard when he closes his eyes and purses his lips and he stops and lightly smacks my shoulder.

“Y/N,” he whines. “Cut it out and focus! Do you wanna be labeled the ‘never been kissed loser of 10th grade?’”

I huff. “Yeah didn’t think so,” he says. “Close your eyes so you don’t start laughing again.

I do as I’m told and close my eyes. I feel Eddie’s body heat as he leans in to me, and then feel the softest touch of his lips on mine before he pulls away.

“Voila! You’ve been kissed!”

“Wait that’s it? It’s way more tongue in the movies.”

“Sorry but I refuse to show you how to French kiss, that’s not on the lesson plan for today or everrrr. You’re by best friend and that would make things weird,” he laughs. I join in laughing with him and then we shift back to our original positions and fall in to a comfortable conversation about the upcoming school year.

#nothingmattersbutyou #eddie munson x you #eddie munson x reader #eddie x reader #eddie x you #eddie munson x fem!reader #eddie munson stranger things #eddie munson #eddie stranger things #eddie munson fanfic #eddie munson fic

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lilliesforya · 11 months

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Nichome (inside standing outside standing inside)

For our combined birthdays, Katie and I went to Tokyo. Specifically, Shinjuku. We met up with a friend from college and his friends from his abroad program. I was extremely tired because the night before I visited Shibuya with my friend from home and I did not sleep enough to warrant the late night I knew I was in for. I had an awful stomach ache which I later realized was mostly anxiety. Saturday started easily. The weather was so nice, sunny but not hot. This was early October so it was not true fall weather in Japan yet. My friend and I went to Ueno Park and got Starbucks. There are no Starbucks near me so whenever I go into the city I love to get some. The park was huge. I didn't know it was going to be so large because the entrance was sitting next to the train station. But the walkway just kept going. It was lined by trees too. There was a baseball field with people playing, a cafe, a huge open space where there were many food trucks set up, and lots of people. I love seeing groups of people, especially tour groups of foreigners or tourists.

Katie and Is birthday plans started in Shimokitazawa, a thrifty/ artsy area of Tokyo. We got fluffy pancakes at a cafe she really likes and gossiped at a volume too loud for the small space. We checked out multiple thrift stores. One was more like an artist collective? It was under the same roof but there were different small shops. It seemed more curated/ vintage than thrifting. There was a jewelry section as well and every artist who had items for sale had a small box decorated with their jewelry and they were stacked on top of eachother. The other thrift stores were more thrifty and offered tons of college sweatshirts, sportsware, and t-shirts. I even saw three Fairfield University ones! No Rutgers or Pitt though :\ I almost bought this oversized Giants long sleeve shirt but it was too overpriced.

After thrifting we walked around the neighborhood. There were many small shops and art displays. We got dinner at this Taiwanese restaurant that was in between various places to eat. It amazes me how much they can fit in spaces here. The soup dumplings were amazing, and they gave you paper bibs so you don't mess up your clothes and these small cups to hold the dumpling in. After, we made our way back to the hotel we were staying in to get ready for the night.

My stomach was still bad at this point but I love getting ready to go out. We played music and put on our outfits. I had brought my favorite makeup and all of my rings. I ended up wearing one of katies shirts instead of the one I brought because it looked more appropriate for the bars.

We went to 4 bars during the night. Two of them were really fun and had great music selections. In popular areas, usually you have to pay a cover fee to get into the bar. It's not too expensive usually and it will often cover a drink or two. Waiting in line for said drink is another story but once you pay for it you gotta get it. Once I was sufficiently drunk, it was much easier for me to let loose and dance. Being in a large group prevented any unwanted attention as well which made the night go much smoother. My right contact lens fell out of my eye at like 10 pm but I didn't realize until we got back to our room at like 4am. I thought my eye was just irritated all night. Luckily, you don't really need to see clearly to have fun in a bar. After the bars, we all went to eat at a gyudon place close by. It is common for some restaurants to be open late/ all night in these areas because they can make a lot of money from drunk people like us, and people coming back from working insane hours. We slept from like 4-9 am and even though we had drank the hangover prevention medicine (which did help a lot) I felt so awful I was like im not drinking for months. This was a lie but it was a good 2 weeks maybe? I was deathly silent the whole train ride back to my house and Katie talked nonstop which reminded me of college.

#nichome #birthday #awe

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fabulouslygaybean · 2 years

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im literally so understimulated im gonna bite someone

#i guess i understand why my family wanted to have a super super lazy day for the first full day in cali #but. oh my fucking god. my brain feels like its going to explode if i don't do something right this second #ive been sitting in silence since i woke up at 9am because basically nothing is happening #i ate lunch and that's it. we all sat down and ate lunch and then we did nothing #i dont wanna play the boring games they have bc then they'll say im ruining it when i seem uninterested #i just. im genuinely tempted to sleep the rest of the day away. im so bored and understimulated that anything is better than this #i wanna go out and do something!! or visit someone!! or literally do anything besides sit around in silence!!!!#we apparently aren't gonna do anything at all until thursday. we're just gonna sit around. im gonna genuinely fucking scream #also we're not even gonna do anything fun when thursday/friday/saturday comes along #thursday my aunt wants to take us thrifting. but we can't rlly buy anything bc we don't have enough space in our travel bags #we're gonna see a play that was worked on by my cousin's wife. which is like the only cool thing we'll be seeing #i don't even fully know what the other plans are. outside of them all being pretty lame #just!! idk!! i hate being a bitchy teenager but wow old people are boring #just. idk. we rarely get to visit cali and i wanted to maybe do some stuff that my sister and i could enjoy too #not just. sitting around a silent house or going to a thrift store just like i do in my home state

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bucksfucks · 4 years

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the babysitter ii | chris evans

READ PART ONE

SUMMARY || summer 1996. you’ve finally graduated college and have your whole life ahead of you. when you move back home with your parents for the summer you feel like your entire life has been put on hold. your mom volunteers you to babysit for mr. evans, a recent neighbour who’s going through a nasty divorce, only to realise that your summer is about to get a whole lot more interesting.

PAIRING || dilf!chris evans x reader

WORD COUNT || 2,024 words

WARNINGS || daddy kink, daddy issues, heavy age-gap (reader is mid-20′s chris is late 30′s), fingering, oral, teasing, pining, praise kink, lots of fluff and sweetness, unprotected sex — 18+ ONLY//MINORS DNI

NOTES || this was self-indulgent feel good writing and i hope you all enjoy!

The blue skies had slowly turned grey and dull, greenery shrivelling up from its cheery green colour to shades of yellow’s, orange’s, and red’s before falling to the ground where eager kids and adults holding onto a sense of wonderment would crunch them back into the dirt.

Fall had come and summer was no more, laying herself in bed as autumn blew her chilly air around the tall skyscrapers of New York City where you had moved just a few weeks ago.

It was daunting; graduating college, moving back into your childhood home, fucking the man you were babysitting for, moving all the way to New York to pursue your dreams.

You shook your head, willing yourself to stop thinking about such an unforgettable summer, but you knew you’d never be able to get him out of your mind.

Mr. Evans. The man the entire neighbourhood was lusting after had you on his mind.

You could count on your fingers the amount of times you’d slept together, but that didn’t stop your wandering mind from thinking of the countless nights he’d spent buried between your legs, his hand over yours to keep you from screaming.

It made you shudder.

A ding snapped you from your thoughts as the almost electronic women’s voice sounded through the speakers.

“Stand clear of the closing doors, please.”

Your stop was next as you clutched onto the undoubtedly germ-infested pole as you had a series of books squeezed under your arm. The subway lurched, pulling you back as you fought against the force for a split second.

You didn’t think you’d ever get used to the subway, or the skyline, or the fact that you were now living in New York all alone.

Twice as Nice was in your sights as you stepped onto the busy and noisy streets, dodging bikers, people, and the occasional taxi-cab before you stopped into the quiet thrift store.

A few weeks in New York and you’d already explored more of it than you did your hometown in all your years of being on this planet.

Mindless chatter filled your mind as you stepped into the coffee shop that was right across from Twice as Nice. After the day you’ve had, you needed another coffee with a double espresso shot.

It was decently crowded, taking your spot at the front on the tall stools so you could people watch as you read your book and cautiously sipped on the latte you had decided on.

It was pleasant.

Life was calm.

You heard your name, distinctly your nickname before you craned your neck to the side and...

“Mr. Evans?”

His name slipped through your lips in a whisper to yourself as he cracked a smile.

“Now how many times am I gonna have to ask you to call me Chris?” He echoed his words from the first time you met him in the summer. The first time you stepped foot into his house.

You didn’t know what to say, staring at him dumbfounded as he took a step closer to you.

He was in New York?

“What are you doing here?” Your curiosity got the better of your manners, you’d apologize later.

He chuckled, motioning to the vacant seat beside you as a silent way of asking can I sit before you nodded your head.

“Work conference, it’s a nice weekend getaway, although it’s been impossible to find a babysitter that uh,” he paused, tugging his bottom lip between his teeth, “fills your shoes.”

There was a gleam in his eyes, partly from the late afternoon sun shining through the cloud, and partly from how close he’d gotten.

“Well, I can imagine how difficult that might be.” You reply, heart still pounding in your chest because he’s sitting right beside you. The man that you’ve longed for, the man you’d seen in your dreams countless times, the man you thought of when your fingers were hovering over your clit—

“You still with me, Sweetheart?”

You snapped yourself back into reality, trying to ignore what that nickname did to you as you nodded your head.

“I didn’t think I’d ever see you again,” you admitted, gnawing on the inside of your cheek as Chris smiled at you sweetly.

“The universe has a funny way of connecting people,” he winked, your eyes scanning the business casual attire he was dressed it.

It seemed to be the only thing you’d ever seen him in, well, that and his birthday suit.

“You moved in fully yet?” He asked, his shoulder brushing yours as he lifted the cup of coffee to his lips.

You nodded, “it’s coming together.”

He hummed, setting his cup down before you felt the warmth of his hand on your knee and you melted into his touch.

“I bet it is, Sweetheart.” The pet-name sent shiver down your spine and a flock of butterflies swarming to your chest.

“If you wanted to um, drop by to check it out, maybe have a cup of coffee?” You squeaked out nervously, not sure what wave of confidence washed over you, but it seemed to pay off.

“That sounds really nice, Sweetheart. I’ve got a personal day tomorrow, if that works.” He said, grabbing a pen from his inner blazer pocket and handing it over to you.

You tore off a page in your book, it wasn’t a good book anyways, before scribbling your address on it.

“Seven?” He asked, “seven.” You replied.

He stood up, growing to his stature as you looked up at him from your sitting position. You missed being wrapped in his arms, missed the way he felt against you.

“I’ll see you tomorrow, Sweetie.” He said, leaning down to give you a kiss on the cheek before disappearing into the giant crowd that is New York.

“You have any idea how much I’ve fuckin’ missed you?” He pants as he slams you against your living room wall. It shakes the walls, paintings and wall clock rattling as you feel his beard scratching against your skin.

“Tell me,” he lifts your chin with his index finger, “have you missed me too, Sweetheart?” He purrs the pet-name a low rumble in his chest felt against your own as you whimper.

“Missed you so much,” is all you manage to mumble out, tugging him against your lips in a frenzy.

He moans into the kiss, locking your wrists above your head as he grinds his hips against yours.

You’re spinning, the cups of coffee still sitting neatly on the coffee table now cold and abandoned as you chase one thing and one thing only; him.

“I thought I lost you,” he whispers, “that I would never see you again.”

Your heart skips a beat, a warm feeling growing deep in your chest, a foreign feeling that makes a knot form in your stomach.

His kiss is deep and passionate, wearing his heart on his sleeve as he pushes a thick thigh between your legs and oh thank God you decided on a dress tonight.

“But my little girl missed me too, didn’t she?” There’s a sudden change in his tone as he cocks his head to the side.

“Did you miss Daddy?” He cooes, your pussy jumping at his words as you nod your head frantically.

You’re hoisted off the wall, Chris’ arm around your waist as he finds your bed and tosses you onto it.

“Don’t worry, Princess, gonna take care of you tonight.” He murmurs, sliding between your body before your clothes meet the floor unceremoniously.

He rakes his eyes down your naked form, drinking you in and memorizing each and every aspect of you like he never wants to forget a single detail.

“Can smell just how wet you are, how much you need me,” he smirks, lowering himself in between your thighs.

You had never been with a man that paid such careful attention to you, to all of you and you swore that he would spend hours eating you out if you let him.

“I’ve missed the way you taste, Princess,” he purrs, using his fingers to spread you open as you throw your head back against your pillows.

“The way you feel too,” he hums, feeling the way you’re squeezing his fingers.

“My own hand ‘round my cock just doesn’t feel the same.” You let out a loud, shocking moan as he wraps his lips around your clit, his fingers still buried deep inside of you.

Your fingers tangle in his hair and the sheets, anything that’ll ground you to reality.

He laps at you, laps at you like he’s a man about to eat his final meal and he never wants it to end.

“Squeeze my head, baby, don’t be afraid.” He groans against you, your legs tightening around his head as he hooks his fingers deep inside of you to rub against the spot no one else can ever seem to find.

“That’s a good girl, can feel how close you are, don’t hold back.” He encourages you, only paying more attention to where you need it most before you feel the white hot explosion that has you arching your back in ecstasy.

You’re left breathless as he crawls over you, his own naked body now pressed tightly against yours as he’s kissing you so deeply you can taste yourself on his tongue.

“Shit,” he hisses suddenly. You think you’ve done something wrong as he looks around the room.

“I didn’t bring any condoms,” he then says as you feel relief wash over you.

“I’m on the pill,” you whisper, “and clean.”

He looks like he’s been struck by Cupid himself as smiles down at you, “are you sure, Sweetheart? We don’t have to.”

Your heart only balloons at his words as you tug him down by his neck.

“I want you to fill me up,” you whisper against his ear, nipping at the lobe and that’s all he needs before he’s sinking into you.

He groans, deep and low as he stretches you. It’s familiar and it feels right, it feels like what you think love is supposed to feel like.

“Fuck, so tight for me baby. Don’t think I’ll ever get used to you.” He grunts, starting to snap his hips against yours.

Your headboard is cheap, it shakes and rattles and you’re sure the neighbours will chew your ear off in the morning, but you couldn’t care less.

“Gonna have you so full baby, so full of my cum until you’re leakin’.” His voice is low and raspy as he uses the headboard to support him, his hips snapping forcefully against yours.

It doesn’t take long for you his thrusts to get sloppy, his moans louder, the grip on your hips tighter, you’re mesmerized by the way he looks above you.

“Shit, baby, fuck you’re gonna make me cum,” he whines, dropping onto his forearms as you wrap your legs around his waist.

“Cum for me.”

He comes undone, low, guttural grunts falling from his lips as he pumps you full until he’s just barely strong enough to hold himself over your body.

You’re both panting, sweaty, and completely exhausted, but you wouldn’t have it any other way.

“I mean it,” you hear him whisper, rolling onto the bed beside you so he can hold you close.

You give him a confused look, unsure of what he’s referring to.

“I’ve missed you. I’ve really missed you.” He says, cradling your face in his large hand.

It gives you butterflies, feeling excited at his words.

“Be my girlfriend,” he suddenly blurts, your eyes going wide as you sit up to look at him before a huge grin erupts over your face.

He looks shocked at his own words, but mimics your smile, “are you serious?”

He nods his head, grabbing your face to kiss you.

“I’ve never been more serious. I want you,” he pauses, “I need you in my life.”

There’s never been a more obvious answer as you fall on top of his body, nothing else matters except for you and him, alone in your world.

The harsh realities would come in the morning.

#chris evans smut #chris evans x reader #chris evans x reader smut #chris evans headcanon #chris evans headcanons #chris evans fic #chris evans fanfic #chris evans fluff #chris evans fanfiction #chris evans au #chris evans oneshot #chris evans one shot #chris evans blurb #chris evans drabble #bucksfucks writes — [♡] ;

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modsou · 3 years

Note

Ahh first time requesting here, how about Keiji and Shin with a kind s/o Who gives them a self made present? Maybe a new hat for Shin and a jacket for Keiji? (Separately please) Ahh tired boys-

Heya :] I'm sorry this took a while, but here you go!

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Giving Keiji and Shin a self-made present

You were out alone thrifting when a dark grey jacket caught your eye

You noticed it was Keiji's size

However, it was a bit bland, not to mention the rips and holes in it

Luckily, you had sewing and ironing skills, and could patch it up in no time

He would like something like that, right?

After you bought the jacket, you hurried home with a million ideas in mind

First step was washing it

After a machine wash and dry, you got to work sewing up the patches

Some of the holes were really big and ratty, so you decided to cover them with iron on patches

You already had some deep in your house somewhere, so after fetching them, you set up the ironing board

You covered up the holes with patches of his favorite colors, and cool designs, and once they were ironed on, you folded up the jacket, ready to give Keiji your creation

Luckily, he was already planning on visiting you that day

All you had to do was wait for him to get there

A while later, you heard a knock, and eagerly got up to get the door

Keiji smiled lazily, greeting you with a kiss

"Guess what I did today?" You asked him innocently as he entered your house

"What did you do?" He smirked, settling into your couch

You didn't say a word, instead running into the other room to find the jacket

Once you came back, you held out the jacket for him to pick up

"I made this!" He took the jacket from your hands and unfolded it

"You made it?" He asked, eyes widening

"Well, I didn't make it, really, I found it at the thrift store, but it was really ratty, so I sewed the patches and things onto it." You replied proudly

Keiji smiled at you, leaning forward to put the jacket on

"It fits perfectly," he remarked, standing up so you could see

Excited that he liked it, you started jumping up and down, throwing your arms around him

"It looks good on you, Keiji!"

He leaned down to kiss your head

"Thanks, my dear."

You had decided to make something for Shin, to show him your love and gratitude to have him in your life

It wasn't a special occasion, you had just picked up a hobby recently, and you wanted to give something to him

It took a few weeks, but you finally finished it: a knitted hat to match his scarf!

You were so proud of your work that you almost didn't want to give it away

A short while after you finished the handmade beanie, you bounded over to Shin's place

After knocking on the door, you waited with the beanie tucked safely in a cardboard box for him to open

When he appeared at the door, a smile immediately graced his features

"S/o! Hey!" He grinned excitedly, opening his door wide so you could enter

Returning the smile, you lean in and peck his cheek as you stride past him

A blush tainted his cheeks, but he didn't say anything

Shaking his head, he closed the door behind you

"What do you have there, S/o?" He asked curiously as you made your way to sit down on his couch

You waited until he sat down next to you, then silently placed the box on his lap

"Open it," you beamed, gesturing at the box

His smile grew wider as his eyes lowered to the box

He gently lifted the top, and then moved aside the tissue paper

"A beanie?" He asked nobody, picking it up to examine it

"Do you like it? I made it myself," your eyes gleamed with pride as you said so, earning a chuckle from your partner

"It matches my scarf!" He remarked,

"Okay, I'll put it on,"

After removing his other beanie and tossing it to the ground, he pulled the knitted one over his head, tucking in some hair

"How do I look?" He asked shyly, his adorable smile went from ear-to-ear

"You look great, Shin," you said, reaching out to ruffle the hair that was sticking out of his hat

A blush spread across his face, and his eyes widened at your remark

"Eh, really?" He mumbled, averting eye contact

"Of course, love! You look adorable"

Your words only flustered him further, causing him to hide his face in his scarf

With a chuckle, you leaned forward for a hug, nuzzling the side of his face with yours

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Shin Shin Shin Shin Shin

Keiji is great too, but

Shin

-Mod Hiyori

#yttd keiji #keiji shinogi #keiji shinogi x reader #yttd #yttd fluff #your turn to die fluff #your turn to die #shin tsukimi x reader #yttd shin #shin tsukimi #shin fluff #keiji fluff

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kythed · 4 years

Text

haikyuu!! + where they take you on your first date

yes, i have a soft spot for akaashi, how could you tell?

karasuno

sugawara koushi: one of those clay painting places. he tries to paint your face on a mug-- it ends up looking like a purposefully offensive caricature, but you appreciate the gesture.

azumane asahi: takes you thrifting because he thought it would be aesthetic. the only clothing you two buy is a set of XXL galaxy cat t-shirts.

nishinoya yuu: chuck-e-cheese.

hinata shouyo: an action movie. he won’t stop chattering and making side comments the entire time, but it’s kinda cute. tries to pull the classic yawn-over-the-shoulder move and accidentally spills his popcorn on your lap.

kageyama tobio: invites you to watch one of his volleyball games. it’s not your ideal first date, but the rare smile he flashes you when his team wins makes up for it. he is incredibly sweaty when you go out to eat afterwards, though.

sawamura daichi: a bowling alley. he’s a shit bowler but pretends to be an expert just so he can get close and “teach” you the proper form. he also really likes the overly greasy bowling alley pizza for some reason.

tanaka ryunosuke: italian restaurant. he pronounces gnocchi like “guh-no-chee” and pitches a fit when they don’t offer bottomless breadsticks like olive garden does. before leaving, you slip the poor waitress an extra five for the inconvenience.

yamaguchi tadashi: a butterfly garden. coincidentally finds out he has a deathly phobia of flying insects that same day. you don’t end up staying very long.

tsukishima kei: a natural history museum, but not in a cute way-- you just tail him for three hours while he silently stares at fossils and refuses to hold your hand.

nekoma

kozume kenma: a duck pond near his house. he thought it’d be nice to feed them stale bread, but it turns out there are only very large, very angry geese there. you watch in horror as the largest one chases him around the block.

haiba lev: an amusement park. brags that he never gets sick on roller coasters before vomiting on your favorite sneakers after the first ride. it’s up to you whether or not he gets a second date.

kuroo tetsurou: finesses his way into the country club without paying. you two obnoxiously cannonball into the pool and eat too many free nuts until the concierge chases you out.

yaku morisuke: the skate park. he doesn’t actually know how to skate so he sits on the board and hangs on for dear life while you push him down the ramp as hard as you can. you can honestly say it’s one of the best first dates you’ve ever been on.

inuoka sou: ikea, mostly to purchase matching ikea bucket hats. also forces you to take a picture of him in the kitchen section for flexing purposes.

shiratorizawa

ushijima wakatoshi: a book store. he’s not much of a reader but he thinks the way you open every book just to inhale that new book scent is funny. buys you five hardcovers and refuses to be paid back.

tendou satori: an open house for a multi-million dollar villa. you pretend to be wealthy newlyweds and eat the complimentary charcuterie while chatting up a real estate agent. halfway through the conversation he switches to a british accent and blows your cover.

semi eita: takes you to a ballroom dancing class in the park. all the other students are elderly couples that smile warmly and “aww” when he dips you. he may or may not drop you on purpose at some point.

tsutomu goshiki: the animal shelter. he’s allergic to dogs and has a runny nose the entire time but muscles through because he likes how excited you get to pet them.

shirabu kenjirou: mini-golfing, but he swings like it’s regular golf. ends up launching a ball into one of the little windmills’ blades and breaking it. he subsequently gets banned for life so you win by default.

aoba johsai

oikawa tooru: a cafe. orders straight black coffee to prove his maturity. you can see him grimace with every bitter swallow so you mercifully trade your maple latte.

iwaizumi hajime: the beach. is it just so he can show off his glorious, glorious pecs? maybe. but you’re not complaining.

hanamaki takahiro: costco. you play hide and seek in between the aisles and get free samples. he accidentally startles a small child into tears after lodging himself in between two bags of rice to hide.

matsukawa issei: hiking. you two get lost on the way down and end up having to call the forest service to get rescued by rangers.

kunimi akira: the backseat of his car (it’s an SUV).

inarizaki

miya atsumu: an arcade. does that thing with the ticket wheel where he lifts up the cover and stops it on the 1000 ticket slot. is also surprisingly adept at skee-ball.

miya osamu: tells you to get dressed for a fancy dinner. when he picks you up you find out “fancy dinner” in osamu language means two pbj’s on a picnic blanket in the park and a game of cards.

kita shinsuke: the planetarium. he’s fascinated with the stars and pays more attention to them than he does to you, but it’s cute how wide his eyes get when the entire milky way comes into view.

suna rintarou: a wendy’s drive-thru, and you’re not even mad about it— he somehow manages to make a frosty and fries seem classy.

fukurodani

akaashi keiji: the aquarium. he has an endearing fixation on the hermit crabs and unsuccessfully tries to hide his excitement when the tour guide lets him hold one on his palm. you now have a picture of him smiling at the crab as your lock screen.

bokuto koutarou: a hedge maze. it takes you two hours to escape, and you only manage to get out because he kicks a hole in one of the hedges and crawls through.

konoha akinori: the farmer’s market. purposely buys way too many bananas as an excuse for asking you over tomorrow to help him make banana bread.

date tech

futakuchi kenji: tries to seem sophisticated by taking you to see a foreign film. it ends up being so raunchy that he can’t even look you in the eye when the credits roll.

koganegawa kanji: axe throwing. is incredibly embarrassed when you manage to hit the target and he can’t. claims he’s just “going easy” on you but his scowl says otherwise.

aone takanobu: tandem bike riding. his greek god quads provide more than enough horsepower, so you can just sit back and relax.

other

terushima yuuji: a lookout. it’s too cloudy to see the city lights so you have a contest to see who can spit the farthest over the edge.

sakusa kiyoomi: invites you over for dinner and a puzzle-- he’s more comfortable in his own home. the atmosphere is almost relaxing, and dare I say… romantic? he does get frustrated when you keep trying to fit edge pieces in the center, though.

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bi-bard · 3 years

Text

Bad Guy - Winchester Brothers Imagine (Supernatural)

Title: Bad Guy

Characters: Dean, Sam, John, and Mary Winchester

Requested: Nope

Word Count: 1,222 words

Warning(s): John Winchester slander (we approve), mentions of past trauma, probably cussing

Summary: (Season 14, Episode 13) (Y/n) gets a chance to tell John just what they thought of Sam and Dean's childhood.

Author's Note: Fun fact, this episode resulted in probably my favorite blooper in Supernatural. You should watch it... click here.

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It all started with a normal hunt.

Room of cursed objects and some weird salesman.

Now, the objects were being stored in the bunker and identified by Sam and me. Dean was more distracted by the objects than anything.

We discovered a pearl. It allowed people to get what they wanted more than anything.

It seemed like a surefire way to defeat Michael, who was still locked in Dean's mind. A way to get rid of him for good.

That's not what happened.

What happened was that we ended up losing Castiel, Jack was nowhere to be found, and John Winchester came back.

I knew him too well. I didn't even know him before he died but... I saw it. I saw it all.

I sat opposite him at the table. Sam and Dean ran away to talk about this and Mary was off doing something.

"How did you end up here," he asked. "I'm sorry but I don't think the math works for you to be Sam or Dean's."

"They kind of adopted me," I explained. "I was 10 and my parents were taken out by a shifter. The boys raised me along with Bobby and Castiel and a few others."

"Right," he nodded. He held a hand out for me to shake. "I'm John."

"I know," I chuckled, ignoring his hand. "I know a lot."

"I've heard," he nodded, dropping his hand. "Mary mentioned that you're quite the hunter."

I grinned.

"Alright, what is it," he asked.

"Nothing, nothing," I shook my head. "It's just weird. I've heard... stories. From Dean and Sam and Bobby. Hell, Mary has told a few."

"Well, nice to know I lived on."

"Mary's stories were very sweet," I nodded.

"And the others?"

"More realistic," I muttered. His smile fell. It's like he suddenly realized that I knew everything. "Especially the ones I confirmed."

"So, you've already decided that I'm the bad guy," John asked, leaning on the table.

I bit my tongue and looked down at the floor. I sighed and looked back up.

"A few years ago," I explained, "I was 14, we met a witch on a hunt. I was hit by some spell and got knocked out. It sent me back through time. Specifically, Sam and Dean's childhood. I saw everything. So yes, you are a bit a villain in my head. But I didn't invent that."

I stood up straight and went to leave.

"If I had raised you-"

"You didn't," I cut him off. "Your sons did. And I think they did a damn good job. Maybe you should talk to them. See them as more than hunters. Because they are so much more."

"Don't explain how well you know my sons," he snapped.

"Someone needs to!"

He fell silent.

"Your sons raised me so well," I said quietly. "They took me to thrift stores and gave me old clothes so I was always comfortable. Dean would sit with me when I had a nightmare and sing the same song while he waited for me to go back to sleep. Sam found the technology for me to be a part of hunts when I couldn't lie about being F.B.I. Dean let me date someone that he barely liked. Sam literally carried me out of my parents' house. Your sons have become amazing parents. You only see them as hunters that could be better."

I walked out without another word. I passed Dean and Sam in the hall. I heard one of them turn around and follow me to my room.

"Hey, what happened," Dean asked. I sat on my bed, taking a few deep breaths. Dean sat next to me, rubbing my back lightly. "Are you alright?"

"It's just... John," I mumbled. "It's been a little overwhelming."

"What happened?"

"He was talking about hunting and you two growing up and I said that I knew everything," I replied. "Then he tried to go into what would've happened if he had raised me and I snapped at him. I just yelled about you and Sam being great parents."

"Kid," Dean said. He pulled me into a hug. "You didn't need to defend us."

"It just happened," I muttered. "I'm sorry."

"It's alright," he rested his chin on top of my head.

The door slowly opened. I looked up and saw the rest of the Winchester family standing there. I sat up straight. John stepped forward and I stood up.

"I'm... I'm sorry-"

"You don't need to do that," John held a hand up to me. "Thank you. You made... some great points. These two did end up being great parents."

I grinned softly.

"Now, I was thinking that we should have a real family dinner before I have to leave," John clapped his hands and smiled at all of us.

"Pizza," Mary suggested. We all nodded. We all walked out. John stopped me.

I raised my eyebrows, asking what he needed silently.

"What's that photo from," he asked. I looked over.

There were two. One was Bobby, Jo, Ellen, Sam, Dean, Cas, and me. I didn't go on the hunt that followed that photo. The other was one that I insisted we take. Me, Mary, Jack, Sam, Dean, and Cas. I still don't know how I got all of them to come back.

"My family photos," I mumbled. "The one on the left was right before we went to fight Lucifer for the first time. The other is right after Jack, Mary, and I came back to the bunker after we had been stuck in the apocalypse world."

"The what?"

"Umm... another story for another day," I hit John's arm twice before going to follow the other three.

"You and Cas are close," he asked. I nodded. "And Jack?"

I blushed and awkwardly chuckled, looking at the floor.

"I see," he nodded. I looked at him. "You're not very subtle. Crushing or dating?"

"Dating," I replied. "As of... pretty recently."

"Good," he said. "Did you make the first move?"

"Yes."

"Good," he said again, making me chuckle.

We walked into the library and saw Dean and Mary at one of the tables.

"Sam's the only one not on a wanted list right now," Dean explained. I nodded and sat down next to him.

--Time Skip--

After we all enjoyed dinner together, it was time for John to go. It was the only way to make sure we didn't mess up the timeline. John was understanding.

I stood back as John hugged his sons. He looked over at me and smiled. I smiled back. He walked over and I hugged him. It was strange but it wasn't as awful as I feared.

He stepped back. He walked over to his wife, holding her hand. He gave her one last kiss before nodding at Sam.

I grabbed Dean's hand when I saw him shaking. He looked at me for a moment and forced a grin for a moment.

Sam picked up the bowl and smashed the pearl. The next time we all looked, John was gone.

I stayed silent, letting the family mourn. I stepped away so they could all hug. Sam looked over me before nodding at me to join them. I joined their group.

They were grieving for the second time... and I didn't quite know how to help them.

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

Masterlist

What I Write For

Request Guidelines

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Small Moments With…

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Some Original Characters

folklore/evermore Writing Challenge (and Masterlist)

#supernatural imagine #supernatural x reader #supernatural fanfiction #sam winchester x reader #sam winchester imagine #sam winchester fanfiction #dean winchester x reader #dean winchester imagine #dean winchester fanfiction #mary winchester imagine #mary winchester fanfiction #mary winchester x reader #john winchester imagine #john winchester fanfiction #john winchester x reader #imagine #fanfiction #x reader

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solastia · 4 years

Text

Tuqburni: Finale - Heartbreak

Pairing: Yoongi X Reader, Hoseok x Reader

A/N: Here you go with an alternate ending where she DIDN’T choose to go back to them. Angst, with a bit of hope (hyuck). Please remember, in my mind the other ending is canon and I will be releasing an epilogue eventually of them together in the future. Until then, enjoy this. It really hurt me to make my Yoongichi cry.

*******************************************************************************************

You sat on your tiny patio in the beat-up rocking chair you’d bought from a thrift store as you waited for Namjoon to come by. You probably could have waited inside, but it felt too big and empty for your liking. A familiar knock rattles your very wobbly-sounding door and you get up with a sigh, closing the sliding glass behind you as you head to the front door.

You open it without checking, knowing that there were only two people in the world who knew where you lived now.

Namjoon and Seokjin are standing there with hands brimming with equipment.

“Come on in. The room’s mostly set-up now.”

They kick off their shoes somehow and scuffle towards the second bedroom that was mostly sparse beyond a desk holding your computer, a chair, and soundproofing foam panels on the walls. In the pair’s arms were the rest of the recording equipment you’d need to establish the room as your official workspace.

Namjoon mumbles that he can take care of the setup so you let Jin pull you to the tiny kitchen and put on some tea while you wait.

“So...how was your first night as an independent woman?” Seokjin asks while he pulls down your new mugs and turns on the kettle.

“...Alright, I guess. Quiet,” you murmur softly, putting bags in the cups.

He nods in understanding. You’d moved out of their place after staying there for nearly a month. You’d tried leaving earlier, but Seokjin and Namjoon had been adamant that you needed to stay and let them watch out for you for a little while before you decided. Personally, you’d suspected that they’d probably thought they were on suicide watch, but you were fine. Well, perhaps not fine, but nowhere near thinking about that kind of thing.

“I wasn’t sure if I was going to tell you or not, but you should know that Yoongi didn’t take it well,” he sighs and sets down his cup. “There was...a lot of yelling. A lot of...you know...him puffing up and getting angry at us to hide how devastated he was. He blamed us and said we were turning you against him and that setting up a studio in your apartment so you’d never have to see him again was obviously something that I came up with because you would never do that. He even started saying some stuff about how Namjoon was obviously using this as a chance to steal you away because of the tiny crush he had on you back when you all first met.”

“Oh, Jesus,” you huff and rub your eyes. “I’m sorry you had to deal with that. He’s...that’s just always been his fighting style. He zeros in on the one thing he can say that would hurt you the most and stabs you with it. Please don’t hold it against him.”

He reaches over and pets your hair softly. “I know. It’s...it’s going to take a while but he’s going to need us too when this starts to settle down a little more. Right now you are our priority because you’re the one that’s been wronged, but...he’s still our marshmallow Yoongichi and we’ll need to pick him up too. Even if we are incredibly disappointed in him. Both of them.”

You nod, closing your eyes. “He...did he look...bad?”

“Yeah, I’m not gonna lie. His clothes were all messed up and he’s gotten really skinny. Don’t think he’s eating much either. But...you don’t need to worry about that. That’s not your responsibility. He made his choices. Jimin made his choices. Now it’s time for you to have your turn.”

You nod silently, knowing he was right. That didn’t make it any easier.

It felt almost like you’d been in a trance since that night Yoongi had ordered you to leave. You remembered driving to Jin’s and sitting in their guestroom, staring at the ceiling blankly once your chest hurt too much to cry any longer.

When the knocking started, there had been one tiny spark of hope that Yoongi had finally come to his senses and was there to apologize. To drop to his knees and beg you to come back. That he would do anything…

But the high tones of Jimin’s begging squashed that final dream. Yoongi couldn’t even be bothered to come even now. He had to send Jimin to do the talking for him. And finally...FINALLY...you were overcome by rage.

No more. You were done.

You shook your head no to Namjoon’s silent question over whether he should let Jimin inside, and then you just stood there listening to him trying to talk through the door. He said some things that surprised you and some that didn’t. You’d known he was developing some sort of feeling for you - whether that was actually love or that he just liked having sex you didn’t know, and really you weren’t sure you cared anymore.

He’d managed to stick around for an hour, which had impressed you, but you hadn’t been surprised when he finally gave up and left. That had also been the last time you’d seen or heard from either of them. Yoongi hasn’t tried to call and you certainly weren’t going to be the one to beg for him to take you back. You had absolutely nothing to apologize for. You’d done nothing but love that man with everything you had - and it still hadn’t been good enough.

It was with that thought in mind that you essentially set up camp in the Kim household while you tried to figure out your next steps. They’d been kind enough to go get some of your belongings. Apparently, Jimin had cried while he helped them pack up enough for now and promised to have everything else ready for them to come back for later. Namjoon put you on official leave from work and with a few changes on social media you were now almost officially completely severed from your life with Yoongi. The house had been in his name, you’d never combined accounts, your car was your own. Honestly, it seemed almost too easy. Your lives were now entirely separate beyond the tears in your soul that would last forever.

Namjoon had convinced you to keep your job, promising that you could work from home and the company would cover the costs of converting your second room into a studio. It was incredibly indulgent on his part but you didn’t even think of turning him down. You loved your job and you definitely needed the financial comfort it would bring as you started over. The rest of the apartment was still kind of shabby since you’d been worrying about the studio first, but eventually, you’d get around to making it feel like a home.

Namjoon struts from the studio with a grin, wiping his hands together. “All done! Just waiting for you to set up passwords and stuff now. Kinda jealous now. Jin, can I set up a studio at home? I like the idea of working in my underwear.”

Seokjin scowls playfully. “Don’t even think about it.”

You huff lightly, but don’t miss the way they seemed to be discussing something with their eyes before they both turn to you.

“There’s...uh...something else that you should probably know. You might not want to know or care but we thought we should at least tell you,” Namjoon begins, his eyes constantly flitting between yours and Jin’s.

“Just tell me, Joon.”

“They, uh. Yoongi and Jimin, they...broke up? I guess. Don’t know the whole story yet but apparently, Jimin’s been staying in a hotel near the company. We’re all watching Yoongi closely to make sure history doesn’t repeat itself, but, yeah. Thought you should probably know,” Namjoon says quickly, cringing like he expected you to go on a rampage despite the fact that you never have before.

Instead, you simply scoff, because wasn’t that just perfect. All that pain you went through, all the fighting and sacrifices, and in the end, it was all for nothing.

“Are you okay?” Seokjin asks softly, bumping your shoulder with his.

You smile up at him, though it doesn’t meet your eyes. “I will be.”

******

“I can’t believe you’ve done this.”

You sigh angrily into your phone as you walk towards the cafe, wondering for the millionth time why you let Kim Seokjin order you around so much.

“It’s been six months, sweetie. It’s time and he perfect for you, I promise! He’ll be a drooling mess at your feet in no time.”

When you’d gotten ready for the café, you’d thought you were simply meeting your friend Jin for coffee and gossip, like usual. Only he’d called you when you were only a couple minutes away to inform you that it was actually a blind date. Surprise, bitch.

“Does he at least know why he’s there?”

“Of course! He was really excited too. Seems he’s had the hots for you for ages.”

You were thankful he couldn’t tease you for the blush on your cheeks. “No one calls it the hots anymore, grandpa.”

“Nevermind. Date canceled. I’m not saddling my Hobi Hobi with someone so disrespectful…”

“Calm down. Fuck, I’m not dressed for a date, Jinnie. I thought it was just going to be us so I’m just wearing jeans and a hoodie.”

“It’s not my fault you don’t dress up for me.”

You finally reach the café and stare at the sign like it would give you courage. “I can’t do this…”

“Breathe. You can. You have no reason to feel guilty or undeserving. I picked the best one I can find for you, but if it doesn’t work out that’s okay too. There is no pressure. All I want is for you to be happy.”

Your heart swelled, remembering that, oh yeah, this is why you kept Kim Seokjin around.

“I really love you a lot, you know that right? You are the best friend I could ever ask for.”

He chuckles happily. “I’ll remind you that you said that the next time you get mad at me. Good luck. Call me if you need to escape. Treat Hoseokie with care, too. He’s like one of those Gremlins. Don’t put him in water or anything high, and he turns into a weird sex demon after midnight.”

“Should I ask how you know that?”

“I know everything about everyone, my dear Y/N. Everything.”

You’d call him out on his bluff if you were more certain that it actually was one.

“Alright, I’m going in. Love you.”

“Love you. Be nice to Hoseok.”

You close the call and stuff your phone in your pocket, taking the chance to brush out any wrinkles and calm yourself. You just wished that you were wearing something cuter than a pink hoodie that you were pretty sure belonged to Jin at one point. At least your converse were pink to match and you’d done your hair.

You enter the café, the stupid little bell making everyone’s heads turn toward you like you weren’t nervous enough. You think you spot the guy in question sitting next to a window, but you buy yourself some time with getting your drink first, peeking at him out of the corner of your eye.

It wasn’t that you didn’t know him at all, you’d just never really talked to him. He worked at the company as a choreographer so naturally, you’ve seen him around. It was merely that producers like you were usually goblins that cooped themselves up in their studios and didn’t really get around to meeting everyone. It was impossible to not notice Hoseok though. Beyond the fact that he was handsome, he was also incredibly bright. Both inside and outside. You were sure you’d seen every color of the rainbow on his head at some point, and it was currently a flattering shade of orange that not many could pull off.

Once you had your drink in hand, you turn and head towards the table. Hoseok is already standing to greet you, his smile wide and unabashed, and you finally begin to feel the first tingles of excitement. And maybe a few nervous butterflies.

“Hi, Hoseok,” you smile shyly and sit when he gestures to a chair, trying not to laugh when he nearly tumbles trying to sit back down.

“Hello!” he practically yells, and you finally notice that he just might be nervous too. He clears his throat and tries again. “Hi. Thanks for coming.”

“Yeah, I...uh. I’m going to be honest - I only knew this was happening a few minutes ago. I thought I was meeting Jin,” you smile awkwardly, chuckling.

He cringes and seems to droop before your very eyes. “Oh, sorry. I...I don’t want this to be a forced thing. I’ll just...uh. See you around?”

He gets up to leave and you’re not sure what makes you grab his jean jacket to stop him.

“No, please. Stay? I...I’m going to be bad at this because it’s been a long time but...I can try?”

His smile is the happiest thing you’ve ever seen in your life. “Yeah? Okay. Alright, let’s do this.”

You laugh and settle back into your seat, watching him as he does the same. He’s so expressive and vocal as he starts telling you a story about his day (one of his new kids fell and made the other ones fall like dominos and now his best dancer was out with a sprained ankle). He asked questions about your life, your interests, asked about your work. He was so beautiful and yet he looked at you like you were something awe-inspiring. It had been a long time since anyone had seemed so genuinely interested in you. Before you knew it an hour had flown by and your stomach was beginning to hurt from laughing so much.

“So, I was thinking if I hadn’t scared you off yet, maybe you’d be willing to continue this date? But like, somewhere else because if I drink another cup of tea I’m going to burst,” Hoseok wrinkled his nose and sent you a shy smile, a single tiny dimple poking out.

“I’d like that,” you grin, surprised yet again that you actually meant it. That you were actually excited to spend more time with him. “Maybe we could just walk around for a while and talk. There’s a park across the street and lots of people play music and stuff. And then maybe you could take me dancing tonight. Show off those moves you keep bragging about.”

Where had this confident woman come from?

Thankfully, his grin widens and he nods eagerly. “That sounds perfect. But first...little boys room. Be right back.”

You giggle and settle back into your see as you watch him scurry frantically to the bathrooms - no surprise since he’d downed three cups of peppermint tea. You turn to observe the room to pass the time and that’s when you spot him.

He’s standing near the pick-up counter with an iced americano in his hand, the condensation and half-melted ice suggesting he’d been there for a while. His haunted gaze is locked right on you and you meet it even as your stomach clenches with a myriad of emotions.

Six months. Such a short time in the grand scheme of things but still so long since you’d last seen him. He’s as beautiful as ever, even if he’s obviously been losing weight that he didn’t need to and his lounging around the house clothes he was wearing in public gave off the IDGAF vibe.

Yoongi seems to finally come to a decision as he saunters closer, eyes wide and unblinking like he’s afraid if he looks away for a single second you’ll disappear. He finally reaches your table and you fight the instinct to make a run for it.

“Hey,” he says softly, his hand clenching tightly enough around his drink to make the plastic crinkle.

“Hey,” you answer softly, unsure of what else to say.

“You look beautiful,” he continues with a soft tone like he’s speaking to a spooked rabbit. Perhaps he was.

“Thanks.”

He nods silently, continuing to stare. “So...you’re on a date with Hoseok?”

“Uh...yeah,” you swallow nervously. “Blind date. Seokjin set it up.”

He nods again and licks his lips. “Yeah? That’s...good. Hoseok’s a good guy.”

“Yeah. He seems nice.”

“Yeah.”

“You’re...doing okay?” You’re not sure what prompted you to ask. Perhaps there will always be a part of you that worries about him - you already know that there’s always going to be a part of your soul that belongs to him.

He shrugs, “Alright. You?”

“Yeah. I’m good. Have an apartment and going to counseling.”

He flinches as if you’d just slapped him. “Sorry.”

“It’s not just...because of you or what happened. It’s, you know, the past and all that too. Just needed to work things out. I think it’s helping. Maybe...maybe you could try it too.”

“Maybe,” he responds noncommittally, his eyes finally falling to the floor. “I miss you.”

Your heartbeat quickens. “Yeah. I miss you too.”

“Do you think...maybe we could try…”

You cut him off before he can even finish that sentence. “No.”

That was maybe too harsh because he looked like he wanted to melt into the floor straight to hell.

“I...will always miss you. And a part of me will probably always love the Yoongi I had before, but no. I don’t quite have the gift of words that you do, but I just know that we weren’t right for each other. I mean, I was technically just a very long rebound before you got your chance with Jimin again, in the end.”

“That’s not how it was. I loved you. I love you,” he grits out, his eyes taking on a steely edge as he looked back up.

“Yeah. I know you did, just maybe not the right way. And I loved you, but I let you bulldoze over me. So maybe we could have been good, but you got greedy and I needed to learn to not be a doormat.”

He nods and once again looks like a kicked puppy.

You sigh and tap on the table nervously. “But for those years that we were together - I will always love that Yoongi. I will look back and remember that once upon a time there was a man and a woman who were crazy in love and built a home together. Who had dreams of building a lifetime together. I will hope that Yoongi has a happy life and that he finds what he needs. That he can find a companion who makes him want to fight for what they have together.”

The tears streaming down his cheeks make you pause, realizing you’re fighting back some of your own.

“I love you, Min Yoongi. But you weren’t right for me. Now it’s time for me to find my place in this world. Maybe Hoseok is it, maybe he isn’t. I’d like to think I don’t need another person to help me feel complete. Whatever it is, I’m learning how to speak up and fight for myself. I hope you can learn to be happy for me.”

He nods, sniffling. “Whatever you want. I just...I just wanted you to know. I love you. I really did. And...I’m sorry. For what I did. I’m sorry I hurt you. I’m sorry I hurt Jimin. Do you think...you’ll ever want to at least talk to me?”

“I don’t know yet. Maybe someday. I don’t think you’re ready.”

“Okay. I’ll be here.”

“Yeah. I...you have to go home now, Yoongi. I’m on a date.”

His watery eyes widen again, and he nods slowly. “Right, yeah. Sorry. Again. And...please. Call me or whatever if you ever need anything. I...won’t expect anything else. Just know that I’m here if you need someone. Can I ask for that, at least?”

You nod, “Yeah. Thank you, Yoongi. I’ll...see you around.”

He gulps and backs up. “Yeah, see you, Y/N.”

He turns swiftly and practically jogs towards the entrance while you try to memorize what could be your last glimpse of the man you once loved.

“Everything okay?”

You jump and your eyes fly over to meet the sympathetic ones of Hoseok.

“Sorry, didn’t mean to scare you. I saw him talking to you and thought it was best to let you have privacy. Was that okay?”

“Yeah,” you sigh. “He just wanted to talk. And...it was good. I think I finally feel a little more closure.”

“So...I’m not like a rebound, right? Like, I know that you guys were dating and I heard some of it from Seokjin but...”

“Uh...you’re the first time I’m trying to actually date since Yoongi. If that clears things up a bit,” you answer with a blush. You were not about to go into detail about those couple months of desperate hookups you’d used to try and gain your confidence back before you’d started therapy.

Thankfully, he seems to not mind that bit of news judging by the wicked grin that paints his lips. “Oh?”

“Shut up,” you growl, playfully swatting him.

He chuckles and reaches out a hand to you. “Do you still feel up to continuing our date? If not, I’ll totally understand and we can reschedule. I’ll only cry and stress-eat a tiny bit, I promise.”

You snort and accept his hand, letting him help you up. In a moment of bravery, you lace your arm in his and tug him towards the entrance.

“Just you try to get away from me now, Jung Hoseok.”

He giggles and lets you lead the way, both of you exiting the café and feeling hopeful about the future.

#bts #bts fanfic #bts fanfiction #tuqburni #solastia #bts angst

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haworthiaace · 3 years

Text

I’ve recently discovered that writing may be a little bit fun so. Here’s something for @shadeswift99 ‘s ghostbusters au (this post right here) :]

Tango didn’t believe in ghosts.

Why would he? There had never been any reputable, scientific evidence, and despite what his friends have told him countless times, ‘feeling a presence’ didn’t count as scientific evidence. However, his conviction didn’t seem to deter Zed and Impulse at all, who regularly barged into Tango’s apartment with their latest ‘discovery’.

“Tango, guess what?” The sound of his poor, battered door slamming open once again and Zed’s excited voice disrupted the peaceful silence that had dominated the room for the past few hours.

“Hi Zed, Impulse, good to see you guys too.” Tango didn’t have to look up from his laptop to know that Impulse was standing right behind Zed, too polite to barge in without some sort of invitation. Not polite enough to stop Zed, unfortunately.

Zedaph didn’t even acknowledge the greeting, continuing his thought the second he flopped down into a worn armchair. “Impulse and I were talking, and then we got on the topic of those guys who visit haunted places and hunt ghosts, and then I said ‘Well why can’t we do that?’” He sat up, eagerly looking at Tango, who could not for the life of him figure out what the man wanted from him.

Impulse, in his infinite kindness, noticed his friend’s confusion and filled in the gaps Zed had left in his excitement. “Zed and I want to start a ghost hunting business, and we need you to join us because you have a car.” He sat down much more gracefully than his companion, holding a small bowl of chips stolen from Tango’s kitchen.

The room was silent for a moment. “Hold on, what?”

“We-“

“No, I heard you, I’m just not exactly sure why you would think to ask me.” Tango never went on their other adventures no matter how many times they asked. After all, he had better things to do than chase wind and broken air conditioning, and it was dangerous to set a precedent. “You’re the ones who believe in all that fancy mystical stuff, not me.”

Zed stopped bouncing, and Impulse quickly brought forward the second, more practical half of their pitch. “We know you don’t believe in any of this, but even if ghosts aren’t real-”

“Which they are!”

“Right. A lot of people believe they are real, and will pay good money for some help handling them.”

Tango pondered this for a moment, making A Face for effect that made Zed giggle. Impulse had a good point, as was often the case unfortunately. Tango didn’t have a stable source of income at the moment, and an actual business could help quite a bit with groceries, especially if Impulse was going to keep stealing his snacks every time he came over. And working with friends would certainly be a bonus.

“What the hell, I’m in. Worst case scenario nothing happens and I laugh at you two.” Zedaph lit up like an over ambitious Christmas tree, resuming his bouncing with even more enthusiasm than before.

Impulse just grinned, “And best case scenario you finally figure out the truth.”

“In your dreams, Impy.”

Tango opened his eyes, and found himself lying prone on the floor. What was I doing? The dark, musty room plus Impulse and Zed looming over him struck a bell in his head.

They were on a job, as was the case most nights. Why Zed and Impulse insisted they do this at night was beyond him, but that was an argument for another time. A nonsensical ventilation system and a questionable foundation caused strange happenings in the home, and the trio had been called in. But even Tango had to admit this house was strange, and different from the others. The moment he entered, the hairs on the back of his neck raised, and he felt a chill. Their whole visit had been shadowed by a sense of wrongness.

“...Tango? Is that you?” Impulse’s voice broke the silence, with a hint of uncertainty that shouldn’t have been there.

“Yeah dude, of course it’s me. What happened?” Tango groaned, pushing himself up into a sitting position. His head spun, but he forced himself to stand.

Zed raised his hands in a placating gesture. “Alright, I know this is going to sound really strange, but we think you got possessed?”

Tango stared blankly at his two friends, and finally through the fog in his head realized they were dead serious. “Really guys? Come on, I know you believe in ghosts and all but isn’t possession a little bit much?”

Impulse started wringing his hands, and Zed spoke up, quieter than before. Neither one would make eye contact. “You… you weren’t yourself Tango. You looked angry, and kept throwing things.” Huh. Well that explained the broken furniture scattered around the room, and why Tango was so sore. “You knocked over a salt shaker, then suddenly passed out when the salt touched you.”

Tango was fairly certain he had never done that before. He was unnerved by the gap in his memory, but he tucked that into a corner of his mind to unpack later. Right now he had to convince these two knuckleheads that he wasn’t possessed.

“I haven’t eaten today, it was probably that.” They gaped at him, but whether it was because of his adamant skepticism or his poor eating habits Tango couldn’t tell. “It might be like… a low blood sugar thing.” Tango tried his best to be nonchalant, but his friends didn’t look relieved.

Zed stood up, the worry in his face replaced with anger as he crossed the room in long strides towards the door. “I really can’t believe you. Here we are, worried for your life and soul, and you call it low blood sugar.”

That wasn’t meant to happen. Tango rushed to fix his mistake. “I- I’m sorry man. I know you guys are worried, but I’m fine now! Whatever it was, it seems to be gone.” A small smile crossed his friend’s face, and Impulse moved to stand behind Tango, clapping a hand on his back.

“All that matters is you’re alright. Anyway, I think the salt scared the ghost off, so how about we head home, get some post mission pizza for that low blood sugar of yours?”

“Sounds like a plan to me.” Tango grimaced at the disaster that he had apparently made. “How about we tell the homeowners that the ghost did this?”

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The ironic thing is that he wasn’t even on a mission at the time.

Tango was on his way home, cradling a bandaged hand that he would surely have to explain the second he walked into the apartment he shared with his business partners. His mind repeated the events of the past hour as he made his way down the sidewalk.

He had been browsing a thrift store, searching for a new pair of boots after his old pair wore out. He loved them dearly, but when the sole ripped off for the third time, Impulse drew the line and sent him off to find a new pair. His wandering/ moping brought him to One Man’s Trash: a rickety, rundown looking thrift store that was absolutely perfect. In Tango’s experience, all the good stuff got snatched up too fast at more popular stores, and there didn’t seem to be anything wrong with this place other than its appearance.

He delicately pushed the door open, greeted by a dusty smell mixed with cleaning supplies, and a loud, clear bell that was hung above the doorway. The interior walls were plastered with peeling, faded orange wallpaper that Tango guessed was at least 50 years old. They were decorated with dozens of picture frames containing vintage photos and postcards, each with its own price tag. The grey, carpeted floor complained where he stepped, and it was covered in tables with items for sale. It seemed people donated plenty, but never shopped here. Nobody was attending the front counter, which wasn’t a surprise for a place that probably only saw one customer a month, so Tango began his quest for the perfect pair.

After spending a good hour searching every nook and cranny of the disorganized sales floor, he found a sturdy pair of black leather boots hidden underneath a table, almost knee high with a one inch heel. They were covered in buckles and looked like they would be featured in a suburban parent’s nightmares. In the entire time he was there nobody had come out of the doorway in the back of the room, which Tango admitted was a tad strange. He even checked the sign in the front window to be sure, but the word ‘open’ was still lit up in neon just as it had been when he entered. He tapped the bell next to the cash register, but after a minute still nobody had arrived. He rang it again, and once more after that, still with no answer.

“Hello?” He tried, walking towards the only other doorway in the room, searching for a break room or something where the cashier might be. Maybe they fell asleep. “Is anyone here? I’ve got this pair of boots I want to buy.”

Still no answer.

He felt awful about invading the back room like this, but he was growing concerned. What if something had happened to the cashier? What if someone was in trouble? So, he pushed open the door, and found himself staring up at someone; a man with frazzled black hair and a brown suit that looked about as old as the wallpaper.

Except he could also see the break room. Through the man’s chest.

He blinked rapidly, trying to process what was certainly just a trick of the light. It was obviously just a shadow on the fabric that looked like a couch behind him. A very detailed couch, covered in a floral pattern with two overstuffed pillows on either end. The strange man didn’t say a word, simply staring at Tango with an increasingly malicious grin, watching his mind try to wrap itself around what he was seeing.

Then, without warning, he snatched Tango by the wrist, spinning him around and leaving bleeding scratches where the man’s claw-like nails had torn into Tango’s skin. Before he could even register the pain, the man charged at him and Tango braced for impact, but felt a deep chill instead. It was the coldest he had ever felt, as if every winter from the next hundred years had come to take out their wrath on one man.

It passed half a second later, leaving Tango shivering and clutching his bleeding hand. The man was gone. “How did he- oh shit.”

Sometimes, there comes a time when a person must accept defeat. When they’ve lost the battle, and are left with nothing but their pride. As Tango kneeled on the carpet, frozen to his core and holding his bleeding hand, the boots long forgotten, he could only see one logical explanation for… all of this.

“...Ghosts are actually real.”

So it turned out that the shopkeeper had to step out for a few hours due to an emergency, and also that ghosts exist and haunt thrift stores.

The cashier was really quite nice about the whole ordeal, offering Tango some first aid and the boots he found for free as an apology for their otherworldly roommate’s “antisocial habits.” As Tango walked home, boots in his uninjured hand, he had another revelation, albeit not as earth shattering as the first. He didn’t actually have to tell Zed and Impulse what happened while he was out. It would keep them humble to have someone constantly denying the validity of their work, and Tango may or may not have found it a little, tiny bit funny. He was doing them a service, really! Tango grinned to himself, delighted by how much his friends would appreciate* his help**.

*they did not appreciate this, and were in fact greatly annoyed

**this was not remotely helpful to anyone

Tango woke up, finding himself on the floor as he now did more often than most people would consider normal. Then again, most people weren’t an optimal vessel for otherworldly entities. This time though… something was wrong. More wrong than usual.

He was cold, despite the thick summer air, and he felt like his lungs had shrunk to a quarter of their size, his breath coming in short puffs. He noticed that he was in the same room from before he lost consciousness, and that it was in the same condition he had left it in, which didn’t happen often. Usually ghosts took advantage of corporeal hands to do some property damage, but this time the modern, expensive looking couches were thankfully unbroken, same with the family pictures on the walls.

... What was on his face? Tango felt a liquid slowly running down his cheek. Had the ghost been crying? That was a first. He reached a hand up to wipe away the tears and saw a flash of red. There was a smudge of blood on his left hand, but no injury.

He felt dread settle in his stomach, and slowly reached up with his clean right hand to touch what he had assumed was tears.

Sure enough, his fingertips came away red. “What the hell?” He asked, to nobody in particular.

“Tango! Oh my god, are you alright? Of course not, why am I asking that?” Zedaph burst into the living room, seemingly invited by Tango’s outburst. He grimaced at the floor and Tango followed his gaze to see a concerningly large pool of blood surrounding Tango. This would certainly explain why he felt so much worse than usual. “It threatened you and forced us to leave but then I didn’t leave and I snuck some sage into the room and then I heard a thud and-”

“Zed, slow down.” Tango groaned, holding his spinning head in his hands. “I can’t process a word you’re saying right now.”

Zed seemed to remember his friend’s recent blood loss, looking sheepish. “Right, my bad. It’s a long story, but we need to get you to a hospital or something. Not to be rude, but you look awful.”

“It’s alright, I feel awful so at least I match on the outside.” Zed started to walk across the room, trying not to step in the puddle whilst also trying to help Tango up.

Eventually he managed to pull Tango up by the hand, holding him steady when he started to sway.

Impulse greeted them with relief when they made it out to the car, Tango leaning on Zed’s shoulder, but he looked horrified once Tango’s face came into view. “Oh my god!” He covered his mouth with both hands, then immediately dropped them as though he had been rude. “Oh man, sorry about that, it’s just- your eyes…”

Tango shrugged, “Yeah, they seem to have sprung a leak.”

“Well I knew about that, but…” His eyebrows furrowed as even he, a believer in almost anything supernatural, was confused about whatever disturbing thing this ghost had done. “They changed colour? They’re red now. Like, the whole eye, even the white bit.”

“Cool.”

Zed piped up from his position under Tango’s arm. “‘Cool’? What do you mean ‘cool’?” He did his best to make air quotes without dropping his friend, who had clearly gone mad. “You literally got possessed and started bleeding from your eyes, and now they’ve changed colour, how is any of that cool?”

Tango, in his noble quest to annoy his friends, just shrugged again. “Probably burst a blood vessel or something, and it got in my eyes. Man, why is it always ghosts with you two?”

A Look came across Impulse’s face. Probably Zed’s too, but Tango couldn’t exactly see him. It was a Look that meant Tango had completely baffled them with his supposed obliviousness, which had only happened a few glorious times.

“Ok he’s clearly delirious, we should take him to the hospital.” Impulse pushed himself off the hood of the car and opened the back door, placing a towel on the seat. After all, this was Tango’s car and Impulse figured he probably wouldn’t appreciate blood all over the back seat.

“I mean, regardless of his bullshit he definitely needs to see a doctor, there was a lot of blood on that floor.” Zed quickly followed, helping Tango into the backseat then sliding in next to him. Tango supposed it was to keep an eye on him, which was great because he felt ready to pass out again.

On the bright side, he caught a glimpse of his eyes in the rear view mirror and they did in fact look cool as hell. Of course, Zed and Impulse later disagreed because it could have been a ‘serious medical issue,’ but that was their problem.

At the end of a very long and very strange day, the trio sat around on a variety of couches and chairs in their living room, four half eaten pizzas scattered about the room. Although, they weren’t exactly a trio anymore - a new member had decided to join them regardless of what Tango, Zed, and Impulse had to say about it. An entity (for he surely wasn’t human) known only as the Beetlejhost sat cross legged in an armchair, looking completely at home despite only having been there for about two hours.

If asked, none of the ghost hunters could precisely recall how the Beetlejhost had joined them. One moment they were on a job like any other, the next they were being insulted up and down by a ghost in a black and white striped suit. After that first encounter he hadn’t left them alone, despite their efforts including but not limited to: every ghost busting method they had ever heard of, and others that they hadn’t.

Impulse sat up straight for no discernable reason, smacking the arms of his chair and startling everyone except for, of course, the Beetlejhost. He turned to Tango with a shit eating grin, which was absolutely a cause for concern.

“Hey Tango?” Uh oh. If the grin wasn’t bad enough, the singing tone in his voice solidified that whatever thought just entered his mind was truly devious. That or incredibly embarrassing. Maybe both. “It seems like our new roommate has a few… strange qualities. Supernatural, one could say.” He looked expectantly at Tango, that awful grin never leaving his face.

Uh oh.

Tango supposed that the jig was up. It had been a good run, he supposed. “Yeah, whatever. Ghosts are real, you happy?”

Just because he was busted didn’t mean he couldn’t sulk, so he crossed his arms and sank into his chair, completing the look by sticking out his bottom lip like a child who was just told ‘no.’

Zed piped up from where the others had assumed he was napping, not bothering to remove his face from where it was planted on the couch. “Absolutely.” The word was muffled, but it got his point across. Meanwhile, Impulse was smugly eating another slice of room temperature pepperoni pizza. Vindicated at last, after over a year of exasperated arguments and comical obliviousness.

“I hope you know I’m only admitting it because I’m afraid of what the Beetlejhost would do to convince me.” Tango gave up on his sulking and walked across the room to the box of cheese pizza precariously balanced on the edge of the coffee table. The man (or ghost? I suppose one can be both.) in question was looking off into the distance, lost in assuredly horrible thoughts. “And for the record, I figured the whole ghost thing out months ago, I just really liked annoying you guys.”

“Months ago?” Impulse held his pizza inches away from his mouth, the grin wiped off his face. “Are you telling me that when a ghost literally put you in the hospital and you still denied it, that was all just to annoy us?”

Now it was Tango’s turn to be smug. “It worked, didn’t it?”

So no, Tango didn’t believe in ghosts. But after everything he’d seen, he sure as hell believed in them now.

#hermitcraft #hermitblr #tangotek #impulsesv #zedaph #joe hills #technically?#my writing #tw blood #tw possession #tw ghosts #ask to tag because theres a lot here #tango is being an asshole and its great #im not exactly sure what to do with the breaks between scenes #if anyone has a better way of doing that please help

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prettyboyreid · 4 years

Text

not clickbait!

Matthew finally agrees to make a YouTube video with his girlfriend.

Warnings: none, just fluff :)

Word Count: 6,493

Special thanks to all of the anons who gave me nickname ideas :)

“Please, Matthew? It’s just this one time, I promise,” you pleaded with him, following your boyfriend around like a lost puppy through your house as you did your best to get him to join you for one of your YouTube videos.

You were quickly approaching your YouTube channel’s three year anniversary, and you wanted to do something special for it. While you had been dating Matthew for nearly five years, he’d never once made an appearance in a video. You posted about him on other social media platforms and he posted about you - you even made a brief appearance in the second season of his Unauthorized Documentaries - but he always turned you down when you offered to have him join you on a challenge or a “Get Ready With Me” video.

This time, however, you weren’t taking no for an answer.

“I don’t know, angel. It doesn’t really seem like a good idea,” he said, mindlessly wandering into your kitchen before leaning against the granite counter. You gave him a soft pout, positioning yourself between his legs as you wrapped your arms around his neck.

Matthew has always been hesitant with your relationship in the public eye. There’s fifteen years between the two of you, and he was always overprotective of you, especially when it came to the media. He knew how harsh some people could be and didn’t want anyone attacking either of you because of your relatively large age gap. It took about two years before he finally gave in and posted pictures of the two of you on social media, making your relationship “public.” You didn’t really have a problem with waiting so long; you thought it was sweet that he cared so much. Besides, it was nice to have him to yourself for a little while.

You had yet to convince him to accompany you in a video. You were an open book with your followers and subscribers - they were a big part of your life. You wanted them to know about you and Matthew, and you thought the best way to do so was having him in a video with you. A person can be completely different in a video than they appear in a photo.

“Come on, Matty,” you groaned, drawling out the last syllable as you let your head fall back in frustration. You felt his hands move to your hips and squeeze softly, sighing heavily at your insistent nature.

“Okay! Okay, fine, I’ll do a video with you,” he said tilting your head back up by your chin so you could look at him again with a bright smile. “What video are we doing? You’re not going to strap me to the side of a rickety old airplane or anything, right?” he asked.

He looked genuinely worried you would force him to do something dangerous for a moment.

You rolled your eyes a bit at his dramatic assumption, letting your fingers lace through his light brown hair as you looked up at him. “No, I’m not,” you promised him, leaning up on the tips of your toes to press a quick kiss to the end of his nose.

His face scrunched up a bit into a teasing frown at the odd sign of affection, shifting his weight a bit while his hands traveled up the bottom hem of your t-shirt so his fingers could trace along your skin. “Alright, no airplane. What did you have in mind, then?” he asked, chewing on the inside of his cheek as he looked down at you.

You silently noted the way his pupils grew nearly twice their size when he looked at you.

You shrugged, tucking a few loose strands of hair behind your ear. “I was thinking just a simple Q&A video…” you began, your voice trailing off as you second-guessed the rest of your idea for the bi-weekly video you planned to execute with Matthew.

He raised an eyebrow slightly as he saw you hesitate, folding his arms across his chest with a soft huff out of his nose. “And what? I know there’s something else there,” he asked. You were notorious for having more than one element to your videos, so he knew you wouldn’t settle for just sitting in the spare room you converted to your shooting room and read off random questions with him for thirty minutes. Besides, you both knew he would get antsy and want to do something with his hands. He was restless all the time, and you would need a way to keep him busy.

“I was thinking… I could have you do my makeup while we answered the questions?” you suggested to him, though it came out sounding more like a question than anything. You watched nervously as his brows furrowed together as he thought it over before smiling brightly. He wrapped his arms tightly around you before pressing a soft kiss to the top of your head with a hum.

“I think it sounds like a great idea, bunny,” he said, swaying the two of you back and forth for a moment as he hugged you. You rested your head against his chest with a smile, happy you had finally convinced him to join you for a project of your own.

“I’m glad you think so,” you said, pulling away as you looked up at him. His features from your point of view were shadowy, yet still very definitive. He really didn’t have any bad angles, in your eyes.

He leaned down with a grin before pressing a few soft kisses all over your face, his short stubble tickling your cheeks. You giggled softly at the sensation as you pulled away, hiding your face in his shoulder. You heard his soft chuckle as you checked the time on your phone, shoving it into your back pocket before grabbing his wrist and pulling him towards the stairs of your shared home.

“Come on, I need to at least show you what goes where so you don’t completely ruin my makeup,” you teased him with a smile, looking back at him over your shoulder to see a smile on his lips that matched your own.

The next morning, you tweeted out for people to tweet you and Matthew questions for the upcoming video. The two of you spent the next day choosing the questions you were going to answer, writing down the username of the person who asked it and the actual question they had for you.

You came to a compromise when you picked out the questions: the two of you would pick five together, and each of you would individually pick out five. You thought it would be fun to see what kinds of questions he would pick out for the video, and you found a few that you thought would at least earn a laugh from him.

He thought it would be a good idea to take the questions and put them on pieces of paper, cut them up, and pick them at random from a hat. He hardly gave you time to agree before he began to write down the questions in his chicken scratch onto ripped up pieces of yellow legal paper.

After you had all of the questions in order, he helped you set up the spare room on the second floor so you could film the next day. He helped you hang up the pale blue sheet you usually had for the backgrounds for your videos, and dragged the coffee table upstairs so you could have a place to put all of your makeup. You got some foldable chairs you kept in one of the junk closets along with seasonal decorations and items that needed to go to the thrift store, setting them up across from his camera (that he insisted on using) so they were in the line of sight. It took you much longer than it should have to set up the shot, but you didn’t expect anything less from your director boyfriend.

Since you didn’t finish setting up the room until about 9:45, you decided you would just film the next day.

Matthew insisted on having a late night snack of a pint of ice cream - one for each of you, of course. You quickly found out he was just trying to figure out which questions you had picked out. You two bickered back and forth for what felt like hours as he tried to figure out which ones you wanted to surprise him with.

“Did you choose the one that asked about how the sex is?”

“Jesus, Gube! No, I didn't. Why, did you?” you retorted, eating another spoonful of the frozen dessert as you teased him.

He rolled his eyes before shaking his head, his grown out hair shaking with each movement. “No, but I’ll tell you one of the ones I picked if you tell me one of yours, sunshine,” he said, nudging your shoulder with his own as he finished the pint of Ben and Jerry’s ice cream, setting the empty container on the table at the end of the couch, since your coffee table was currently upstairs covered in cosmetics.

You huffed out at his attempts to barter with you, shaking your head as you grabbed the two empty pints before heading off to the kitchen. “That wouldn’t make it much of a surprise then, would it?” you asked him, rinsing out the containers before tossing them in the recycling bin beneath the kitchen sink. You jumped slightly as you felt a pair of long, lanky arms snake around your waist, grinning as his lips tickled against your neck as he kissed your skin softly.

“Just one question, pretty please,” he asked, dragging out the phrase to try and guilt you into giving in. You tutted at his all but frugal attempts to break you, slipping out of his grasp quickly.

“For the last time, nope,” you said, popping the “p” before smacking his ass playfully. You grinned at the shocked expression your actions earned from your boyfriend. “Now come on sweet cheeks, we should get some rest before your big YouTuber debut,” you teased, lacing your hands with his as you walked him up the stairs.

He chuckled a little bit, both at the nickname and your excuse for why you needed to get to bed relatively early. “Whatever you say, sunshine,” he replied, his arm snaking back around your waist as you made your way closer to your shared bedroom.

You would never describe Matthew as one to get camera shy, especially given his career. But as you two got dressed and got ready the next morning, he was pacing your room as he buttoned up one of his patterned short-sleeved shirts.

“Do you think this is a good idea? I feel like this might be a little premature. I don’t even think your audience likes me. Jesus, what if I ruined you by being on your channel?” He voiced every possible thing that could go wrong, redoing the buttons at least three times as he messed them up from his brain being preoccupied.

You stood up from your seat at your vanity, setting down your hairbrush as you made your way to the pacing man. You rested your hands on his upper arms to stop him in his repetitive path, forcing him to look down at you.

“You’ll be fine, bug,” you reassured him, leaning up and kissing his nose softly. “You know they love you already. I promise that you’re going to be great, okay?” you told him, pushing some of his curls out of his eyes as you gave him a bright smile.

You watched as his nervous expression softened as you fed him words of encouragement, letting out a soft sigh before kissing the top of your head. “Okay… okay. Can we do this now? I feel like I’m going to back out of this if we wait any longer,” he asked. You couldn’t help but chuckle at his comment, nodding softly before leading him out of the room and down the hall.

He sat down in one of the seats as you made sure the camera and lighting was alright, pressing the record button before sitting down in your own seat. You grinned over at him, watching as he nervously fidgeted with the Alvin and the Chipmunks hat in his hands that held your questions.

“You ready?” you asked him, tucking a few loose strands of hair behind your ear as you double checked that you had everything. He looked up from the bright red hat that had entranced him before nodding, setting it down on the coffee table before he looked back over to you. You smiled over at him before leaning over and pressing a quick kiss to his cheek. You turned towards the camera a second later, flashing a bright smile as you adjusted the way you sat so you’d be at a better angle.

“Hey guys!” you greeted enthusiastically to the camera, giving a little wave as well. “Welcome back to a new video! Today I have a very special guest with me; my boyfriend, Matthew,” you introduced, glancing over at him with a smile. You watched him adoringly as you watched him give his own little wave, watching his cheeks turn a pale shade of pink.

“Hello!” he said with enthusiasm that rivaled yours, despite his little voice crack in the middle of the word. You grinned a little bit before turning back to the camera, crossing your left leg over your right.

You finished up the intro to the video rather quickly, just explaining what you guys would be doing and thanking everyone for sending in questions. After a few moments you turned back to Matthew, grabbing the red hat from the coffee table. “You ready?” you asked him, smiling as he nodded and began to look through the makeup.

You sifted through the questions to shuffle them up, laughing a bit as you noticed how focused he was on the products in front of him. “What do I even start with?” he asked you, picking up a concealer and a tube of mascara.

“Start wherever you want, bub,” you smiled, leaning over and pressing a quick kiss to his cheek as you unfolded the first question, watching him untwist the cap of the mascara tube.

“Okay, @y/ngoobler asked, ‘How and where did you two meet?’” you said, grinning as he intricately began to apply the black substance to your lashes with a bright smile at the question.

“Can I answer this one?” he asked you in a soft voice. You giggled a bit at his timidness, but nodded quickly before watching his face light up. “Okay, okay, so about five and a half years ago, I went to a panel with my costar, AJ Cook,” he began, his tongue sticking out of the corner of his mouth as he continued to apply the mascara very generously to your already long lashes.

“Y/N was there with a friend of hers, and I met her at one of the photo ops. Then I later saw her back at the hotel we were staying at, and we talked for a while before I asked her out to dinner the next night before I flew back home,” he explained, leaning back a bit as he inspected his work. “Then I just kept asking her out and hoped she didn’t get annoyed with me. It’s worked for five years so far,” he chuckled, twisting the cap back onto the tube of mascara before looking back at you.

“Can I pull the next one?” he asked, grinning a bit as you nodded to him before he mixed the questions up in the hat before pulling the next one.

“Alright, @y/s/ntrash asked, ‘What is your favorite thing about the other?’” he read off, grabbing a random eyeshadow palette off the coffee table along with a rather large eyeshadow brush. “You go first, I need to focus on this,” he murmured to you, dipping the brush into a yellow color. You closed your eyes with a smile, trying to picture the shape he was designing on your eyelid as you thought over your answer.

“My favorite thing about Matthew is… his sense of humor, probably,” you answered, chewing, grinning as you could feel his demeanor change brightly. You knew how self-conscious he could be, especially about anything that involved entertainment, so that probably lifted his spirits a bit.

“My turn?” he asked you, pulling the brush back as he waited for your answer. You opened the eye he wasn’t working on, nodding softly as you noticed his bright smile. “Besides everything, my favorite thing about you is your smile,” he announced to you and to the future audience, kissing you quickly before he gathered more of the eyeshadow on the brush.

You reached down into the hat as you picked the next question, laughing a bit at the way the brush he used tickled your skin with each stroke he made. “Uh, @spencerwreid asked, ‘Y/N, what is your favorite movie of Matthew’s? Matthew, what is your favorite video of Y/N’s?’” You crumpled up the small yellow piece of paper before tossing it to the side, closing your eyes as he moved onto the next lid.

“My favorite movie of his is probably… Hot Air, I think. I loved the cinematography and the coloring, and Lesley reminded me so much of him,” you explained, folding your arms across your chest as you settled back into your chair. “Your turn, bug,” you told him, figuring he was lost in a trance of his work.

“Oh, shit, okay,” he said, pulling away and letting the brush fall onto the table with a clink as you opened your eyes again. “My favorite video is… that vlog you made when you went to Disneyland with a few of the other YouTubers. I don’t remember their names. I think two of them were twins,” he said, sifting through the products to figure out what to do next.

“The Dolan Twins?”

“That’s it!”

You grinned a little bit, leaning over again and pressing a soft kiss to his cheek. “How does it look so far?” you asked him, watching him grab an angled brush before grabbing a neutral eyeshadow palette.

“I can’t tell you, it’ll ruin the surprise,” he said, chuckling as you stuck your tongue out playfully at your boyfriend. He plucked the next question from the hat, carefully unfolding it before he read it aloud. “@queeny/n asked, ‘How long have the two of you been together?’”

“It’ll be five years this August!” you answered enthusiastically, watching as Matthew just smiled brightly at your quick answer.

You grabbed at the hat and picked out a new question as you watched him dip the brush into a light brown shade, humming to yourself as he dragged it along your eyebrow. “Okay, okay, @abbygubler asked, ‘What did you do for your first date?’” you repeated the question, tossing it to the side as you watched Matthew carefully fill in your brows.

“I took Y/N to a Thai restaurant across the street from our hotel, and she had the absolute worst pad thai I’ve ever tasted in my life,” he chuckled at the memory, pulling back for a moment to look at his work and pick another question.

He placed the brush between his teeth for a moment as he unfolded his question, leaning his neck back slightly before playfully spitting the brush back onto the table, earning an eye roll and stifled laugh from you.

“@prentissprincess asks, ‘Why did it take you guys so long to go public?’” He hummed at the question, picking up a bottle of setting spray before shaking it up. “Close your eyes,” he told you, and you obliged before he spritzed the mist over your face.

“Well, I’ll tell you why,” he began, picking up a bottle of foundation as he turned to the camera (probably just for dramatic effect.) “I am fifteen years older than Y/N, and when we told a few friends when we started dating, they weren’t too fond of it, and didn’t find it necessary to hide their feelings from us,” he said, using the pump on the bottle of foundation to scatter drops across your face.

“So, after talking about it for a bit, we decided to just keep it to ourselves for a little while, just so we didn’t have to deal with the media for a little while - should I use the big brush or the egg?” he interrupted himself, holding up both of them as he looked at you. This obviously was much more important to him than the question, which made you smile a bit.

“The sponge would probably be better,” you corrected and informed him, watching him nod before beginning to carefully dab at your face with the beauty blender.

“Okay. Anyway, we just thought it would be best for a bit, and then we got a little more comfortable and just posted about each other, and now I’m in a YouTube video. I think this is going to be the peak of my career,” he joked. You snorted softly at the comment, which only made him smile brightly as he continued to blend out the foundation across your face.

You picked out the next question, careful to not interrupt your boyfriend’s creative process as you unfolded it and read it around his arm. “@mixmatchedmatthew asked, ‘Was it hard to keep your relationship a secret for such a long time?’” You glanced up at Matthew slightly as he picked up a kabuki style brush and a little compact bronzer.

“I don’t think so, no,” you answered, watching him dip the brush into the compact.

“Make a fish face. That’s what you showed me, right?” he instructed. You nodded softly with a grin, sucking in your cheeks as he brushed the darker cosmetic across your sunken cheek. “The hardest part was probably not being able to show her off, but overall, I’ve probably done harder tasks,” he admitted, brushing out the powder across your cheek before moving up to the sides of your forehead and along the bottom of your jaw.

He set down the brush as he finished the one side of your face, reaching over into the hat and picking out the next question for you two to answer.

“Okay, this one is from @y/ndivinity - Why are these usernames so creative? We need better user names,” he commented, taking the brush and working it across the other side of your face. “Anyway, they asked, ‘What are your favorite things to do together?’”

“Oh! I love just sitting around and painting or drawing together. I like just… being creative with you, I guess?” you answered, scrunching up your nose slightly as he began to drag the brush over it.

“My favorite thing to do with you is taking you to the beach, even just for little lazy days,” he said with a smile. You grinned at his answer, pushing yourself out of your seat for a moment to kiss him quickly.

“I thought you didn’t even like the beach?”

“I only like it with you, bunny,” he answered quickly, giving you a quick kiss back before picking up a bottle of concealer.

You smiled at his response, picking out the next question as he started to draw little shapes under your eyes and in the middle of your forehead. “@aestheticmatthew asks, ‘Have you learned anything from each other?’” you read aloud, dropping the paper into your lap as you looked back to your focused boyfriend, who again was trying to decide between whether to use a beauty sponge or a brush to blend the makeup out.

“Use the sponge, ‘Hew,” you told him, watching him nod quickly before dropping the brush and beginning to dab carefully at your skin.

“I’ve learned how to become an up and coming makeup artist from Y/N,” he answered. You laughed a little, before realizing that that was his actual, legitimate answer. You grinned a little bit, leaning up and messing his hair up a bit to tease him.

“I learned not to take everything so seriously,” you answered, uncrossing your legs and stretching them out beneath his chair a bit. He noticed this, and his eyebrows furrowed together in concern.

“Are you okay? Should we take a break for a few minutes?” he asked you, pulling his hand back as (you assumed) he finished blending out the makeup across your face. You shook your head softly, though your heart melted a bit at how much he cared.

“I’m fine, don’t worry. We’re almost done, I’ll make it,” you promised him, smiling a bit as you plucked the next question from the hat. “Okay, uh, @sydney.y/l/n asked, ‘What do you see for your future together?’” You smiled a bit at the question, looking over at Matthew as you finished reading it. He paused his dig through the products as he smiled a bit at the question as well, leaning back in his seat for a moment as he thought.

“We’d probably stay in the haunted treehouse, but I feel like there’d be at least a few kids running around. Maybe married in Las Vegas along the strip, with a honeymoon somewhere tropical or in the mountains for two weeks,” he said, looking up slightly as if he was lost deep in thought.

“Besides that, just growing old and gray together, and I annoy you until one of us dies, or whatever happens when you turn one hundred and four,” he finished with a bright grin, leaning over and kissing your cheek softly. You smiled as he made a bit of a face, realizing he should’ve blended in the concealer a bit more as he wiped at his lips with the back of his hand. “That was gross,” you heard him mutter, which only made you burst into a fit of giggles as he reached for the next question.

You watched his face contort into a confused expression as he read over the question, and you knew at that moment he had picked out one of the questions you were surprising him with.

“Uh… okay, uh, @reidreidreid asked, ‘Is Y/N a sugar baby?’”

You laughed to yourself at the way he timidly read it and at the face he made, watching him hold back his own laughter as he looked forward to the camera. “No, sh-she’s not,” he said, stuttering over stifled chuckles as he pointed at the fairly large lense. “I am actually the sugar baby. She pays for everything, she actually bought the house from me when she moved in,” he said, fully prepared to continue going on a dramatic rant if it weren’t for you laughing at the entire thing. He shot you a playful glare, which only worsened your case of giggles.

“I’m sorry! I’m sorry,” you said, grinning as you pressed your lips together before crossing your legs again. He picked up a blush palette and a fluffy brush as you picked out the next question, smiling as you watched him suck in his lips to hide his own smile that was tugging at the corners of his mouth.

“Alright, @agenty/f/n asked, ‘Do you go on press tours and go to panels with Matthew?’”

“Smile big, I need to do the blush,” he interrupted you before you can answer, grinning a bit before doing just as he said.

“I just started going to them the past three years, after we went public,” you answered through your tightened teeth, watching as the taller man just laughed at the sight. You laughed quietly as he finished applying the pink powder, setting the brush and palette down once he was satisfied with his work.

He grabbed the hat to read out the next question before moving onto the next step of your makeup, humming as he shuffled the three thin remaining pieces of paper before plucking one out. “@penelopexderek asked, ‘What are your favorite quirks about each other?’” He set the paper down as he dug around the lipsticks, giving you time to answer first.

“When he sleeps, he wiggles his feet a bit, like he’s being tickled or something. It’s a lot cuter than it sounds, and it’s funny to just feel him softly kick at me in his sleep,” you said, teasing your boyfriend a bit with your answer. He stuck his tongue out at you at your response, picking up a pink vial of lipstick before uncapping it and twisting up the product.

He carefully began to apply the cosmetic to your lips as he gave his answer. “When she’s editing, Y/N has to be all spread out across our bed, and she has her tongue poking out of her cheek and she has like her Apple Pen stuck behind her ear… it’s just really cute,” he said, causing you to smile a bit as he finished applying the lipstick.

You pick out the second to last question, watching him grab at the setting spray again. He shook up the bottle for the second time today, waiting for you to read the question so he didn’t spray you in the mouth or the eye.

“@68y/n said, ‘Matthew, did Y/N ever visit you at the Criminal Minds set? If so, what’s your favorite memory there?’” You quickly closed your eyes and mouth so he could apply the spray, your eyes screwing just a bit tighter as you felt the cool mist on your skin.

“Yes, she did, actually. Only for the last few seasons, though, and whenever it worked out for her schedule. My favorite memory with her there is probably filming the Unauthorized Documentaries with her.”

“I was only in it for like twenty seconds, babe,” you said, chuckling a bit as he just shrugged.

“Doesn’t make it any less fun,” he replied quickly, grabbing the last question from the hat and reading it. You watched his face light up brightly, looking back up at you before leaning back in his seat and holding the piece of paper out to you.

“You read it.” You raised an eyebrow at his insistence, leaning back in your seat slightly as he smiled. “It’s one of the ones I picked out. You’ll love it, I pinky promise,” he said, holding his large pinky to you.

You smiled a bit, wrapping your pinky around his before taking the piece of paper from him.

“Alright, @jemilymoreid asks…” your voice trailed off as you smiled, reading the question before glancing up at Matthew. He had a wide grin on his face, crossing his arms over his chest proudly as he waited for you to finish the question. “...they asked, ‘Has he given you the screw that was in his knee yet?’”

You smiled up at him, leaning over and pressing a quick kiss to his cheek. “Yes, he has. We still keep it in the fireplace, but he gave it to me for our four year anniversary,” you said with a grin, glancing at him before looking back at the camera. “He said it was his version of a promise ring.”

You checked the time on your phone quickly before looking over at Matthew, smiling a bit. “Can I look at my face yet?” you asked him since you finished the questions. He nodded softly with a matching smile, handing you a handheld mirror before practically sitting on the edge of his seat. His eyes flickered with excitement and pride, wanting you to see what he had spent the morning working so hard on.

You couldn’t help but grin once you saw your reflection. It wasn’t by many people’s standards good, but considering it was his first time doing anything like it, you thought it was great. He looked over at you expectantly, chewing on his bottom lip as he laced his hands together.

“It looks great, buggy,” you said, leaning over and kissing him quickly. You felt him smiling against your lips, obviously happy that you liked it. “I love it,” you told him as you sat back in your seat, his smile stretching across his face at the compliments.

“Really?” he said, his cheeks burning a pink shade that matched the one he brushed onto your face earlier. “I’m really glad you like it,” he beamed, leaning back in his seat as he just looked over at you, admiring his work and you.

You wrapped up the video, reminding the viewers to like, comment, subscribe, and follow your other social media accounts. You gave a wave and blew a kiss to the lens before you stood up and turned off the camera, sighing softly before turning off the lights.

You watched as Matthew slumped back into his seat, like he was holding in his breath the entire time you were filming.

“So, what now?” he asked, running his hands back through his hair as he looked up at you.

“Now, we clean this mess up, then I can start editing,” you said, helping him gather up all of the makeup. You two took everything back to your vanity where you usually kept all of it, sorting it out into their designated drawers as Matthew insisted on taking the coffee table back downstairs.

It didn’t take you very long to clean up the filming room. After you took a couple photos for the cover of the video, you took down the sheet and the camera tripod, folded up the lights, and put everything back where it belonged. In a little under an hour, you wouldn’t have been able to tell you had done anything in the spare bedroom.

You spent the rest of the day beginning to edit your video. It was a bit longer than usual, so you didn’t finish up until about eleven o’clock, only taking breaks to eat and use the bathroom. You rubbed at your eyes tiredly as you closed your laptop, shoving it in the drawer of your bedside table as you heard Matthew come into the room.

“Did you finish it already?” he asked, joining you in the bed before getting comfortable under the thick covers before turning to face you. You nodded softly, running your fingers back through your hair before pulling it back into a low messy bun.

“Yeah, I wanted to get it up tomorrow, so I just finished everything up tonight,” you explained to him, switching off the lamp beside you before cuddling up close to him, resting your head on his chest as you sighed quietly. You hummed contently as you felt his soft hands rubbing circles on your back, kissing the top of your head as he tried to get you to relax and release the tension you held in your body from sitting in one position for so long.

“I’m sure it’s great, angel,” he assured you, settling down into the mattress as he got ready to go to bed with you. “You need some rest so you can stay awake to see everyone’s reactions tomorrow, though,” he added, giving you a small smile in the dark room.

You nodded softly, intertwining your body with his as you tried to get comfortable in your bed. “G’night, baby boy,” you murmured lazily, pressing a soft kiss to his exposed chest, too tired to move your body up to kiss his lips.

“Goodnight, my love,” he whispered quietly back, both of your eyes closing as you let yourselves fall asleep quickly in the dark bedroom.

The next morning, both of you were riddled with nerves. He was worried that all of your followers would think he was annoying, and you were worried that they wouldn’t like the video in general. You always worried about this, but Matthew was the one to calm you down when you watched the video upload slowly to your most popular platform. However, since you both were pacing in front of the laptop screen, worry coursing through your veins, it wasn’t very helpful.

The video uploaded at about noon, and after that, you both decided to close the computer for now. You wanted to wait a little while before you checked how the video was doing, so you two ordered some Chinese food and watched a random movie you found on Amazon Prime.

You two cuddled up on the couch and ate your food as the movie played on, but from the bouncing of his leg and the sound of your heartbeat in your ears, you could tell that it wasn’t a very good distraction. Halfway through the movie he let out a huff and paused it, pulling out his phone and opening the YouTube app.

“Enough people would have seen it by now to give us some feedback, right?”

He opened up your channel and clicked on your most recently uploaded video, smiling as he saw that there were almost three thousand likes in about one hour of being uploaded. He scrolled down to the comment section, chewing on the inside of his cheek as he scrolled through them.

“They’re so cute omg”

“A video with Matthew!!! Finally!!!”

“The perfect couple <3”

“I need a Matthew IMMEDIATELY!”

You only found a handful of negative comments, but the positive ones completely outweighed them. You watched as the tall boy smiled brightly as he read through them, even liking a few of them as he went along.

“They actually like me!” he said excitedly, looking down at you as he spoke. His eyes were lit up like a Christmas tree with happiness, pressing a quick kiss to the top of your head.

“I told you they would, Matty,” you reminded him, curling up to him as you rested your head on his shoulder. He wrapped his arm around you to pull you just a bit closer, reading back through the comments with a grin.

“See, and it’s doing really well, too! Everyone loves the video,” he told you, showing you a few comments that praised the content they had received from you. You hummed in content as you sported a matching smile, glancing up at him before taking his phone and pressing the power button.

“Now that we have that out of the way,” you began, taking the remote from him. “We should probably finish that distraction.”

“I agree,” he said, pressing a few kisses across your face and head as you pressed play, pulling a blanket over the two of you as you tossed both of your phones onto the coffee table. Your attention turned back to the movie, reveling in the warmth of his touch as you let out a relieved sigh, happy that all of your fans and followers loved him almost as much as you do.

Almost.

@darling-doll9 @imsuperawkward

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roughentumble · 4 years

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geralt and roachie

@avrupasya asked for a fic/continuation of this post of mine, where modern au geralt’s roach is a stuffed animal. sortve told in, like, vignettes, i suppose?

[read on ao3 if you like!]

The one constant in Geralt's short, stressful life, is Roachie. The little brown stuffed horse, named after a fish with similarly colored eyes("I'm gonna' study animals when I'm big!" he proclaims to anyone who will listen, which isn't many, so he whispers it into his horse's mane instead) has been with him long enough that he has no memories without her in some peripheral corner-- clenched in his fist, sitting on his blanket, overflowing from a fit-to-bursting pocket of his shorts. She's been with him through two houses now. He likes to think that she was given to him the day he was born, that they'd never been separated, but he can hardly ask anyone for confirmation. It's just one of those certainties you hold in your heart as a child.

So of course, for his seventh birthday, a dog eats her.

(The kicker is that it isn't even his birthday. It's a government assigned day that may or may not be in the vicinity of the actual day of his birth. It's not like he was dropped off at the fire station with paperwork or anything. He is vaguely, sort of, aware of this, just enough that it feels like an extra kick while he's down.)

She is utterly and completely beyond repair. Her shape isn't even recognizable, and for all his inconsolable tears, she's gathered up and unceremoniously dumped in the trash.

He cries when he finds her, cries through dinner, cries late into the night, cries until he is informed by one of his caretakers through what seems to be a rather impressive headache that if he doesn't stop crying, he would be "given something to cry about," which...

He already had something to cry about. Hence the crying.

He chews on his fist, however, startled into silence by the shouting, and hiccups softly into his pillow. Even as he's left alone, in the dark, he can't settle-- the thought of Roach thrown away like garbage is one that just doesn't sit right with him. He waits until the house is silent, into the wee hours of the morning, then sneaks on silent feet to the kitchen. He rustles through the trash as quietly as he can, pulling out pieces of his old friend, now not simply in tatters but also covered in what was left of dinner.

He nearly loses it at the sight of her, destroyed and filthy. Tears well in his eyes, blurring the world around him, and he sniffles once, weakly, but he doesn't want to wake anyone, and who knows what they'd do if they found him rooting through the trash, so he steels his resolve. Stomps down on the urge to give into another round of crying fits.

The night air is cold against his hot, sticky face. It's refreshing, but he barely notices it as he shuffles into a far corner of the yard. He digs a shallow hole with his hands and reverently lays her body inside. He covers her back up, tamps the earth back down with his palms, and then sits back on his heels. He's a little too young to fully understand what goes on in a funeral-- he's never seen one before, after all-- but he's seen TV, and he knows you're supposed to say something nice, so he says something to the effect of "Roachie was the bestest friend, an' the prettiest horse, there ever was in the whole entire world," and then sits in silence for a few moments longer, sniffling in the cold night air.

He suddenly recalls headstones, and he doesn't have any rocks-- doesn't know how to carve words into one-- but he does see a stick nearby. He shoves it in the ground like a stake and looks over his work. About as good as any grave dug by a seven-year-old could hope to be. He stays there until the cold starts making the tip of his nose and the joints of his fingers hurt, and then he stumbles back inside and curls up in bed.

He's moved to a new house a week later.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~

He starts skipping lunches. He goes to school hungry, and comes home hungrier, and devours his dinners in this new house voraciously.

Every penny that would be spent on school lunches gets shoved in his pocket, then consolidated and shoved in his sock drawer when he gets home. Once he's gotten a decently-sized pile, he gathers it all up in his tiny little fists, shoves it in his pockets, and walks all the way to the local thrift store.

He'd gotten it into his head, somehow, that Roach still existed. Some childish idea that'd popped into his head as a comfort, and that got ingrained in his mind as he repeated it to himself over and over at night. He'd seen the rags, of course, what'd become of her after the dog had had it's way, he knew she was buried in the dirt a state away... but the core "soul" of his Roachie, that'd been with him and loved him and cared for him, was out there, in some other brown stuffed horse, waiting to be found again.

He marches into the toy section in the back of the thrift store with the determination of a soldier on a rescue mission.

And at the bottom of the bin, underneath all the teddy bears and off-brand babydolls, is one single brown stuffed horse.

Logic would dictate a coincidence-- but to his little eyes it looks a lot like magic.

He snatches her up instantly and runs to the front of the store, lest anything come and rip her from his arms again. He has to stand on his tip-toes, but he pushes her up on the counter, then pushes over the pile of money and asks if it's enough. The old lady looks at his pile, then pushes her glasses down the bridge of her nose to get a better look at the tag on the horse's ear. She squints, then glances at his wide, desperate eyes. "Well!" She announces. "Would you look at that. That's the exact right amount. Must be fate." Then winks down at him.

He gasps loudly, eyes getting impossibly wider. Fate-- Roach really had been waiting for him! He reaches up and makes a grabbing motion with his hands. "Can, can I... can I hold her, then?"

"She's all yours." The woman says gently, and places it in his waiting arms.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Roach stays with him all the way to the doorstep of the Kaer Morhen Home for Wayward Boys. He's thirteen, and she has a few weak seams, a few patches where the fur's been worn away. She's heavily loved, and he hasn't spent a night without her since they were "reunited". He's worn as well-- tired of the constant cycle of new places, new "families".

A few months later, with no prospect of leaving in sight, he takes back his wish for someplace permanent.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~

He rooms with a boy named Eskel, who is about the only bright spot in Kaer Morhen, as far as Geralt is concerned. He is only mildly mocking of a thirteen year old sleeping with a stuffed animal every night, and it's mostly companionable ribbing, so even though the thought of anyone mocking Roachie gets under his skin, he lets it go. Eskel is his friend, after all. Of course, though, because that's the way of the world, some older boys overhear Eskel's teasing.

He comes back to his and Eskel's room that night, expecting to find Roach under his pillow-- he's too old to carry her everywhere, now, so that's where she lives-- and instead she's strewn across his bed.

He's old enough, now, to know that it maybe looks a little ridiculous from the outside, but he's too upset to be self-conscious, and Eskel is nothing if not understanding as Geralt sobs into his shoulder that night, quiet except for the occasional little soothing noise as he strokes a hand up and down Geralt's trembling back.

It's unsalvageable, at least for their inexperienced hands. Neither of them is a seamstress. After lights out, Geralt sneaks out-- this time with Eskel in tow-- and creeps into the backyard. Just like last time, he silently digs a hole and places her inside. That's what you do with Roaches, after all-- you bury them, then you find her all over again. The idea of Roach not existing out there, somewhere, is inconceivable.

He curls up next to Eskel that night, and it isn't the same, and he doesn't quite sleep... but it helps.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~

His first Roach had been about the side of a Beanie Baby, and had been a light, palomino sort of color. His second had been more the size of a Build-A-Bear, with slightly stiff limbs and brown fur so dark it was nearly black. The third time he finds Roach, she's a reddish sort of Bay, peeking out at him from behind a large Lego set on the thrift store shelf.

He'd already searched the bins three times and had come up empty-handed, not even a miscolored unicorn, or something else close-but-wrong to show for his efforts, and... there she is, sitting right there, like it's some sort of game. He gasps, and Eskel turns away from the slightly melted Barbies he'd been toying with at the sound. Geralt shoves the box aside and grabs at her, cradling her carefully in his hands. She's already a little on the worn side this time around-- one eye's a bit loose-- and she's right in the middle, size-wise, compared to her other two incarnations.

He loves her instantly.

It must show on his face, because Eskel laughs a little and throws an arm around his shoulders. "So, is this the fated horse, then?" He asks, teasing.

"Yeah," Geralt replies breathlessly, too excited to meet the teasing tone back, "I think so."

~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Lambert shows up when he's thirteen and they're both sixteen.

He's loud, and violent, and instantly hones in on Geralt's preternaturally graying hair and the shock of white growing out of the back of his head(poliosis, born from stress, though none of them know that term). He's inhumanly annoying, a real pain in the ass, and somehow, against all odds, Geralt and Eskel both instantly adore him.

Maybe it's the way he talks back to their "caregivers", or the way he sometimes gets into fights on smaller kids' behalf, who knows, but the three of them form a little clique fairly quickly. Lambert pretends it's begrudging, but it's not hard to see that it's mostly a front. He's a brat, through and through, but he's their brat.

Which is why he's even in their room-- they're all hanging out, Geralt flipping through a book and Eskel attempting to study, while Lambert fiddles with Roach. He turns her over in his hands, examines the spot where the loose eye had fallen off a year back, picks at one of her loose seams. "I just don't get it," he says, scrunching up his nose, "like. What does it do?" He asks.

"Be careful with her." Geralt says, flicking a glance over at Lambert before returning to his book. "And she doesn't do anything. She's a stuffed animal, she just sits there."

"Well, yeah, no duh." Lambert replies, rolling his eyes. "I'm not stupid." Eskel mumbles 'Could've fooled me,' from his own bed, and Lambert hisses back 'Watch it,' and kicks his leg as he snickers. "I mean, what do you do with it? Give it wots and wots of hugs and kissews?" He asks mockingly. He's holding her by the front legs, wiggling them up and down like some sort of dance and shoving her in Geralt's direction. He's about to tell Lambert to knock it off, trying to bat him out of the way to continue reading when, one of her legs just... pops off. There's a stunned moment where Lambert just stares at the two pieces in his hands.

A strangled noise works its way out of Geralt's throat, and he snatches Roach out of Lambert's hands.

"I-- I didn't mean..." He tries, looking between Geralt and Eskel helplessly, but the tears are already welling up as Geralt clutches her closer to his chest.

"Oh, shit," Eskel mutters and scrambles to his side drawer, which hides in the bottom a small sewing kit. Lambert slips out of the room in between Geralt sobbing and Eskel rushing to reattach the limb.

The fabric is weak enough around the seam, and Eskel is inexperienced enough at sewing, that the limb is noticeably shorter than the rest, but she's whole and in one piece by the end of the night.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Lambert awkwardly shuffles in place in their doorway the next day. "I-- fuck, man, I really didn't mean to..." He mutters, rubbing at the back of his neck.

Geralt holds Roach a little closer. "It's fine," he says tersely, "but no one's allowed to touch Roach anymore. Ever." He says firmly.

"Yeah, no, that works." Lambert tentatively steps into the room and then, when he isn't shooed out and no one starts crying, grows a bit bolder, sitting down on the edge of Eskel's bed. "I mean, except for nursemaid Eskel over here, right?" He says jokingly, and earns himself a punch on the shoulder from Eskel.

"Piss off, ya' little brat." He mutters fondly.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Years pass and Geralt and Eskel age out of Kaer Morhen. They get an apartment, split the costs, because they've basically never not shared a room, and they need all the shoulders to lean on they can get. All they really get is each other, so they settle for that. A few more years and Lambert is shoved out at the healthy age of eighteen-- just like they were. He's invited to their little apartment, and he's loud, and complains that he went from one roommate to two, bitches about how they're both sticks-in-the-mud who don't know how to have fun, and that they snore, and that he'll never get a good night's rest.

It's exactly what they were missing, and Roach watches all of it from her spot on the shelf near Geralt's bed.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Then, Geralt meets Jaskier.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~

The first time Jaskier comes over, Eskel and Lambert are both at work, so they have the apartment to themselves. Geralt opens the fridge to pull out two beers, and Jaskier flounces past him towards the shared bedroom. "I'm gonna' go root through your stuff without permission." He announces teasingly as he opens the door and slips inside.

Geralt snorts and rolls his eyes, taking his time popping open both bottles. He hears an exaggerated 'oooohh, interesting,' from the other room and carries the beers to his room. "There's really not much here to see." He says as he bumps the door open with his hip.

"Oh, I don't know about that." Jaskier replies from his place on Geralt's bed. "Who's this little cutie, huh?" His tone is light, teasing, and he's got Roach in his lap, playing with her ears.

Panic crawls up Geralt's throat-- she's old, now, and her ears were always a weak point. It's been years since he was sixteen, and her leg had come off so easily back then, so now... he shouts something strangled at Jaskier, maybe 'no' or 'stop', he isn't really sure, and Jaskier looks up with wide, startled eyes. He rushes over and drops the bottles on his night stand before scooping Roach out of Jaskier's hands. He doesn't yank-- terrified of what might happen to her stitching if he did-- but he isn't nice about it either.

He ignores Jaskier's stammering entirely, swiping his hand across her shelf to make sure there isn't any dust, before carefully sitting her precisely where she'd been. His hands tremble a little as they hover in the air in front of her, waiting to make sure she didn't fall, glancing over her to make sure nothing was out of place, that she still had all her limbs. After a moment, he lets out a shaky breath and steps back from the shelf.

"No one touches Roach." He says firmly.

"I'm sorry, I didn't know," Jaskier starts, and Geralt whirls on his heel, grabs Jaskier's wrist.

"Swear it." He says, squeezes Jaskier's wrist tight. "Swear you won't touch her."

"I won't." He sounds a little mystified at the afternoon's sudden turn, but he gently places his other hand over Geralt's. "I promise."

Geralt deflates a little with relief, loosens his grip and lets Jaskier's wrist slip from between his fingers. "She's..." he starts quietly, eyes averted, guilt and embarrassment creeping in over his sudden outburst. "She's really fragile. I... I didn't mean to... just, please don't touch her." He finishes weakly.

Jaskier agrees once more, reaches out and squeezes Geralt's hand reassuringly. They drink their beer in the living room.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Months pass and his friendship with Jaskier deepens.

Then, he meets Yen.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~

"Hmm." She says thoughtfully, arms crossed over her chest. "I like your stupid little horse."

Her tone is light, teasing, and it strikes him right through the heart all the same. But, at least she isn't trying to touch Roach. He pulls her down into his bed, and the conversation is forgotten.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~

They dance around each other like that for far longer than either reasonably should. Fuck, then fight, then silent treatment, only to fall back into bed and start the cycle anew.

He cares, really he does, and he knows Yen cares back, in her own way, but it's just all so... much. It's a little hard to take, most nights. As he lays there, unable to sleep, he catches sight of Roach out of the corner of his eye. His bed is cold and lonely, and thoughts of Yen won't stop swirling around his mind, and he just... he just wants to feel settled. Before he can talk himself out of it, he's carrying Roach down off her perch and curling around her to sleep with his old friend for the first time in a long time.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~

A few months later, Jaskier uses his spare key to open the door to Geralt's apartment after a few rounds of knocking goes ignored.

He's got snacks, and a six-pack of beer that he deposits in the fridge, before calling out into the apartment, announcing his presence. He gets back a muffled 'in here,' and opens the door to the bedroom to find Geralt planted on the middle of his bed, Roach cradled carefully to his chest. "Sorry," he says weakly, sniffling into his palm, "I- I guess I forgot we were supposed to hang out."

Jaskier's by his side in a moment, kneeling in front of him on the bed, gently brushing his hair out of his face. "Oh, Geralt, what happened?"

He shrugs a little, helplessly. "Yen and I broke up." He pauses for a moment, rubbing little circles into the back of Roach's head, and then adds, "For good this time."

Jaskier reaches out and gathers Geralt up in his arms, lets him tuck his face in the crook of his neck. "I'm so sorry..." He mumbles, nosing into Geralt's hair.

"It's fine," Geralt replies weakly, voice cracking, "it was bound to happen sooner or later. We're kinda'... volatile."

Jaskier huffs out a humorless laugh. "Yeah, that you were..." The past-tense on Jaskier's tongue hits Geralt like a bolt to the chest, and he chokes out a sob. "Oh," Jaskier croons back, reaching up to cradle the back of his head, "oh, it's alright... it'll be alright..."

As he collapses forward into Jaskier's arms, he lets himself be soothed by Jaskier's voice, his arms enveloping him, and the softness of Roach's fur beneath his fingers.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~

A few months later they kiss for the first time there, on his bed, in full view of Roach, which doesn't occur to him until later, but once it does it makes some small part of him wish he'd turned her around. She's seen enough of him, she doesn't need front-row seats to... that.

Then he realizes that she was also there for Yennefer, and he feels a sudden surge of guilt mixed with a healthy dose of shame.

His poor little Roachie.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~

The first time they fuck in his room, Geralt pauses with his hands on Jaskier's hips, blushing faintly. "Do... do you mind if I...?" He asks nervously.

"What is it, dearest?" Jaskier asks lowly, smoothing his hands up and down Geralt's bare chest, eyes all want and smoldering heat.

Geralt clears his throat awkwardly and lets go of Jaskier for a moment to reach up and carefully turn Roach so she was facing the wall. It's deeply embarrassing, but he hasn't been able to stop thinking about it ever since he had the realization about his time with Yen. He turns back around, expecting to be mocked, but Jaskier looks nothing except fond.

He laughs a little, but not meanly, and wraps his arms around Geralt's neck. "Good call," he says, pressing a kiss into Geralt's cheek, "don't want to subject poor Roachie to anything she didn't sign up for."

The complete lack of judgement, paired with the nickname, has a surge of affection swelling in Geralt's chest. He grabs Jaskier by the hips once more, and gently tosses him onto the bed. Jaskier laughs again, delighted, and opens his arms to grab at Geralt, who happily follows after him.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~

"Geralt, look at this!" Jaskier announces from the couch, tilting his phone screen to the side as Geralt scoots closer and hooks an arm around his shoulders for easier viewing. "It's a stuffed animal repair service, but she runs a blog with pictures of the process and calls herself Doctor Beth. Isn't that the cutest thing?"

"Hmm." Geralt hums back. He glances at the screen, scrolls a little, but he quickly abandons it in favor of burying his face in Jaskier's neck and depositing kisses along its length.

Jaskier laughs and snuggles closer, but holds out his phone screen more insistently. "C'mon, Geraaalt," he whines, "you have to actually look. It's cute! You have to say it's cute."

Geralt flicks his eyes towards the screen once more, then away just as quickly as he deadpans the word "Adorable." right into the curve of Jaskier's jaw.

"You are the worst!" He announces, but he's grinning like a fool, and he turns his head into Geralt's affection all the same.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Once the kissing has died down, and Jaskier is seated side-saddle in Geralt's lap, he pulls his phone back out. "In all seriousness," he says, tucked up comfortably against Geralt's chest, "it's actually very interesting. She's really good at her job-- look at this, the bear's practically rags before she reconstructs it."

Instead of trying to distract Jaskier again, Geralt dutifully listens, watching the pictures as Jaskier flips through them. She is rather good, he has to admit, and there is something interesting in watching the stuffed animal go from rags to repaired, in the same way it's relaxing to watch an episode of How It's Made. He 'hmm's again, though it's a more thoughtfully, agreeing sort of ‘hmm’ this time.

"I've actually been following her blog for a little while now, and... I was just thinking..." Jaskier fiddles with the edge of his phone case, "maybe you could... send Roach to her, and--"

"No." He says, swift and firm. The playfulness has left his tone entirely, just the thought of sending Roach anywhere enough to make anxiety race through his chest and his palms turn clammy.

Jaskier's mouth twists into a frown. "Oh... sorry. I just... I know she's fragile and I thought this might help, so I--"

Geralt slides a hand up and down Jaskier's back soothingly. "It's alright. Thank you, for thinking of her, just... I... I can't."

He nods in return and straightens up to press a kiss to Geralt's cheek. "Alright, love, whatever you're comfortable with."

~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Now that Jaskier's said it, though, the thought won't leave Geralt's head. He scrolls through Doctor Beth's blog when he's alone, gets a feel for her track record.

Roachie is fragile now. Close to ten years with him, and she was already thin in some places before he got to her.

On the other hand, does he really trust some stranger on the internet to treat her right? What if she comes back wrong? What if, somehow, she doesn't come back Roach? He reaches out to run his thumb gently across her snout, looking to soothe himself, and watches as little tufts of fur come away under his feather-light touch.

He's already buried two Roaches. He really doesn't want to do again.

"Well, Roachie," he murmurs into the empty room, "third time's the charm, right?"

~*~*~*~*~*~*~

He is the closest to a nervous wreck that Jaskier's ever seen him in the intervening weeks. He'd packed the box with Roach so delicately, gently surrounding her with bubble wrap so she didn't get knocked around and somehow lose pieces in shipping, and as soon as the box was shipped he took to pacing the apartment and checking his phone every twenty minutes. Jaskier thought it was endearing, if a bit worrying.

It drove Eskel and Lambert up a wall.

There were a lot of movie nights in those weeks in an effort to keep Geralt's mind off of things, but inevitably about halfway through the movie he'd get a bit of a distant look in his eyes and he'd reach down to feel his phone in his pocket, make sure it was where he'd be able to feel it if he got an email.

Waiting to confirm materials, what color cloth to use and what eye matched best with her other in his opinion, what to do about her now rather sparse tail and mane.

Jaskier would touch his arm gently, bring him back to the present, and he'd turn his attention back to the movie, maybe sling his arm around Jaskier's shoulders. It was nice, and very sweet to see him so very concerned, but Jaskier did wish he could do a little more to ease some of Geralt's worries.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~

There are, as Jaskier recalls, a few posts where people had sent in video of the results, of them opening the box and seeing their little stuffed animal friend all fixed up. And he knows for a fact Geralt's going to be excited to see Roach again, so when the box finally arrives and Geralt sits down on the couch with it, Jaskier opens up the camera on his phone without much thought.

And then has to set it down almost immediately.

As soon as the box opens, before he could even get his hands on her, big, fat tears start rolling down Geralt's cheeks. Jaskier drops his phone on the table without even bothering to turn off the recording, rushing forward to envelop Geralt in a hug.

Geralt's hands grip the edge of the box so tightly his knuckles turn white, and Jaskier holds him closer, runs his fingers through Geralt's hair soothingly. "What is it, what's wrong?" He asks softly. Geralt shakes his head.

"She just-- she didn't even look this good when I first got her and I--" He's cut off by another sob, and Jaskier holds him a little tighter. "I just can't stop thinking about e- every time she... she broke and I couldn't fix her and I h- had to just... just buy a new one and I... I..."

"Shh, shhh..." Jaskier quiets him gently, pressing a kiss to his temple. "It's alright..."

"I know, I know, she just... she's like new, you know?" He says weakly into Jaskier's shoulder.

That gives Jaskier pause. "Love... are you," he asks incredulously, "are you crying because you're happy?" Geralt nods, and Jaskier can't help the little laugh that escapes him. "Oh, my dear heart..." He murmurs, almost sickeningly fond as he nuzzles into Geralt's hair. "Why don't you pick her up, then? I'm sure she missed you."

Geralt reluctantly pulls back from Jaskier's embrace to look down into the box.

She really does look good as new, and Geralt's almost afraid to touch her. Maybe the new stitching isn't as sturdy as it looks, maybe she'll fall apart in his hands, or maybe she just won't feel right... He sucks in a breath and carefully curls his hands around her. All his breath leaves him in a whoosh.

He holds her in his hands, and something he didn't even know was unsettled, settles in his chest.

As he presses her close to his chest, she still feels like Roach.

Except now she looks like herself again. Whole and complete and strong.

"Thank you," he turns to Jaskier and wraps an arm around him, tugging him in close while the other keeps a hold of Roach, "I never would've done this if you hadn't brought it up. I... Jask... thank you so much."

"Of course, love," he says gently, carding his fingers through Geralt's hair, "got to look out for dear Roachie... where would you be without her, hmm?"

~*~*~*~*~*~*~

"You know, she's so much sturdier now that she's all fixed up." Jaskier points out gently, after a few quiet moments have passed. "She could handle... well. Being handled more, again. She doesn't have to live up on that shelf anymore."

Which, kind of had been the whole point, but Geralt hadn't thought it through in so many words. The tears come back with a vengeance and he sniffles into Jaskier's shoulder, clutches her to his chest firmer than he's dared to in years.

That night, he falls asleep with Jaskier behind him, and his old friend clutched in his arms, and it's maybe a little silly, a little childish, but it's the best sleep he's had in his life.

#witcher tag #writing tag #ogc tag #uh!!! hope u like it #also jaskier definitely gets to cuddle roach at some point now that she's all fixed up #also also. sorry if geralt seems like a crybaby here. i swear he's not its just that we only see him during the few times in his life #that he does cry #pinky promise lol

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keelywolfe · 3 years

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FIC: Knick Knack Paddy Whack (BAON)

Summary: As far as Stretch is concerned, there's only one solution when you're addicted to thrift stores. Selling all the crap you bought so you can buy more!

Notes: Stepping outside of the main storyline for a moment, we'll get back to the aftermath we're all expecting in a moment. 😁

Tags: Spicyhoney, Established Relationships, Domestic Fluff

Part of the ‘by any other name’ series.

~~*~~

Read it on AO3

Read it here!

~~*~~

Stretch was a bonafide thrift-a-holic, he honestly was, and he knew it. It was an important thing to know about yourself, really, because certain problems arose from bad case of oooh-shiny-itis.

Sure, one ceramic zombie hand thrusting up from the dresser to hold his rings and change was an awesome thing to behold, but an entire collection of zombie hands was a tough sell to the person you were living with, especially if that person was Edge. Not that he’d managed to find a collection of zombie hands and if he had, that thrift store would have been on the weekly check list, for sure. But the same premise applied to ‘zombie hand plus an entire horde of other bizarre ceramics surrounding it’.

Stretch wasn’t bitter about the limitations when it came to his collection, nah, he got it. There were certain things you couldn’t ask for from the person you love, and a house filled up with weird tchotchkes that looked like they belonged to the grandmother of the chainsaw massacre family was a step too far. Plus, asking Edge for more space would be unfair. He’d either agree because he didn’t want to tell Stretch no, or he’d say no and feel bad about it. Nah, the set of porcelain dragons playing instruments in a rock band he’d found wasn’t that important, not if it gave Edge a case of the guilts.

Problem was, Stretch really couldn’t resist sometimes. How was he supposed to turn away a wedding painting of Yoda and Kermit the frog? Or a coffee mug with a penguin orgy on it? He couldn’t, that’s how, but his allotted space was filling up in the house proper and soon he’d started to amass quite the collection in his lab, too. It was when the overflow expanded enough to start infringing on his erlenmeyer flasks that he decided he needed a new strategy. Science waited for no one and definitely not anything with the word ‘taxidermy’ included.

That’s when Stretch came up with the plan. Okay, it wasn’t a plan, exactly, more like a flash in the pants of brief inspiration, but hell, he’d been flying by on those his entire life, why stop now?

One of the places he frequented was an antique mall, which was a fancy way of saying one rung on the ladder above actual thrift store, except they rented stalls for people to sell their stuff, so maybe it was more like a glorified garage sale. People carted in their junk for other people to buy and the cashier up front handled all the transactions. Minimal time, minimal effort, that was exactly what he and his kitsch needed, so Stretch went ahead and rented a stall of his own.

The not-exactly-a-plan worked out pretty well. He could buy something at the thrift shop and proudly display it for a while around the house, and then when it came time to replace it with a new find, he’d add it to his stall and whatever money came from it, he donated to the local kid’s charity that the Antique Mall supported. That meant he got in his kicks and joy without looking like a prequel to a Hoarders episode and Edge only had to deal with the octopus tentacle ashtray for a few weeks.

Seriously, it was a win-win all the way around.

A few things did take up permanent residence, of course; he couldn’t give up his zombie hand. But so long as it wasn’t a clown, (clowns were disposed of by Edge immediately and with great prejudice), he was allowed things like his nested Matryoshka dolls of Nicolas Cages for a time.

About once a week he went down to add new things to his stall, mostly during the weekday hours when the buses were on the empty side and he could take up an extra seat with his box of additions. It wasn’t exactly a secret, Andy came along a few times to help, but he never really mentioned it to Edge. Not until today when Stretch realized he’d let things go a little too long and he had some extra boxes to haul down.

Better to take care of it while he was thinking about it, otherwise it tended to turn into an endless cycle of ‘oh, I should do that today’ and him forgetting, but aside from the extra lugging required, it was also Saturday and the bus would be loaded. Hitching a ride would be required, plus a little extra muscle, and his husband was his favorite source for both.

He found Edge in the kitchen, sitting at their temporary table with his laptop and yeah, it was Saturday, time to drag him away from whatever bullshit work he was doing. Stretch put on his best wheedling face and asked, “babe? can you give me a lift today?”

“Of course.” Edge didn’t look up, what a total waste of Stretch’s beguiling charms. His gloved fingertips were soft against the keyboard as he finished whatever he was typing before glancing up at Stretch, and maybe his schmoozing wasn’t entirely wasted; the way Edge closed the lid on his laptop spoke of a guilty conscious for working on his day off. “Where are we going?”

“downtown,” Stretch tucked his hands into his pockets and rocked on his heels. “i need to hit up my junk and disorderly shop.”

That got him a pause, “Your what?”

“heh, you’ll see.” Stretch curled a finger at Edge in a ‘come hither’ motion that his husband didn’t follow, only watched suspiciously. “c’mon, i need you to help me carry some stuff.”

“This ride is starting to sound less like transport and more like a chore.” But Edge followed him to the basement for the boxes, and, surprise surprise, his willingness to help went up a few notches from wary to eager when he figured out what Stretch was doing. Eh, couldn’t blame him. At the top of the pile was a plush frog with the top hat that played ‘hello my baby’ whenever you pushed on its foot, something Red did every single time he walked past it, plus anytime he’d felt like shortcutting in for a quick press. Time to let it damage the sanity of another family.

The boxes were tossed into the trunk of Edge’s car, frog and all, and soon they were on the road, heading downtown. Truth be told, Stretch wasn’t sure what Edge would make of the place. He tolerated thrift stores well enough, but the antique mall was a different kind of beast. An entire building of obscure collections cluttered together into eclectic displays that others were trying to barter and sell.

There were stalls filled with milk crates of old records, shelves and shelves of antique glassware and dishes. Some stalls had vintage clothing, feathery boas mixed in with disco pants and ruffled aprons. Old instruments, rusty farm equipment, strange kitchen gadgets that looked more dangerous than useful, this place had everything and then some.

Plus, the mall had a certain sort of smell, a musty, dusty scent verging on decay that settled into the sinuses and hung around for a while. Stretch thought it was the smell of a life well-lived and he kinda liked it; after years of thrifting, he associated it with finding treasures, but who knew if Edge felt the same. His tastes in smells (heh) ran more to clean and green, not old-timey funk. Could be it reminded him of shower mildew.

Whatever his opinion of the odors, Edge kept it to himself. He helped with the box carrying and checked out Stretch’s stall curiously but didn’t say much. Probably recognized the stuff on the shelves as having once been on a table or Stretch’s nightstand, until the glee wore off and it ended up gathering dust in the basement. He wandered off at some point, heading into the depths of the mall, and left Stretch to restock his meagre wares.

It took longer than he’d expected. Since he’d opened up his stall, not everything Stretch found thrifting found its way into the house proper anymore. Some of it he bought as a straight-to-video option and he was getting pretty good at finding interesting doodads at the thrifty places that might sell better here, location, location, location, that was the ticket.

Stretch always priced his junk reasonably, usually not much more than he’d paid for it. Wasn’t like he needed the money, and besides, Stretch knew himself pretty damn well, therapy did that to a guy. At the end of the day, he knew what this was really about; all an elaborate scheme to satisfy the inner packrat in his soul that struggled sometimes with giving things away.

Bartering had been built in him before he could say the word; in the Underground, he’d gotten damn good at getting deals for what he could scrounge at the dump. This was the same thing, really, just with slightly different stakes. Dinner wasn’t riding on his latest stash of dvds anymore, always a plus, and these days he could simply look at the empty shelves, content in the knowledge that his Smeagol cardboard cutout had found a new home.

Hey, therapy wasn’t the only way to work out a few kinks in your internal lines.

When the last box was emptied, Stretch wandered up to the front desk to give the lady who ran the front register his new inventory list. That was when he heard it.

There was an old piano up front with a sign on it that said, ‘Do not ‘play’ if you cannot play’. Most of the time it sat silently but someone up there was giving it a good try today. The notes were slower, with obvious hesitations as the player searched for the correct keys, but the song was one Stretch knew. Gently melancholy, a match to the cautious playing.

His curiosity piqued, Stretch wandered over to watch and he wasn’t entirely surprised to see Edge sitting on the piano bench, his attention on his hands as he slowly played. It was a tough choice between watching him play and simply listening to the song and Stretch found himself trying to do both. The uncertain skill in hands he knew so well as they coaxed the music free.

When the last note faded, a faint smattering of applause came from the different stalls around them. Stretch waited for it to end before sitting on the bench next to Edge.

Quietly, Stretch said, “i didn’t know you played.”

“I don’t,” Edge said. He smoothed a hand over the keys, not pressing down, simply touching them. “Not really. I can’t read music, but I know a song or two by rote. A friend of mine pushed me to memorize them.”

Welp, Stretch didn’t have to ask what friend, now did he. An old friend back in another world, and people weren’t replaceable even if they wore the same face. He didn’t say anything, didn’t need to; Stretch understood in a way only a few people could, and he settled a hand on Edge’s leg, squeezing his knee gently.

“that was really good,” Stretch offered, “you have a good memory, babe.”

“Some of my memories are better than others,” Edge said. The words were more contemplative than sorrowful, and he didn’t look at Stretch, only touched the back of his hand briefly with his gloved fingertips. “You tend to feature in the best ones, love.”

He reached for the keys again and started to play. The song was more confident this time, bright and cheery, with only the occasional missed note. A handful of other people drifted over, some pausing to watch and some moving on, going about their day with a song to carry them along.

Stretch only tapped his toes and listened as Edge played, more than willing to let him go on until he was ready to stop. If Edge wanted to take a brief dive into the past, then the antique mall was a place for it, where memories and times past mingled with the present.

Besides, a new memory to take home was better than any knickknack.

-fin

Note: The first song Edge was playing was 'Clair de Lune' by Debussy and the second was 'The Entertainer' by Scott Joplin. In case you were wondering. 😁

#spicyhoney #papcest #keelywolfe #underfell #underswap #underfell papyrus #underswap papyrus #by any other name

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aceofspadegrass · 3 years

Note

niragi bullying kids but i think the kids should start bullying back

Bully The Angry Licorice They Said. It’ll Be Fine They Said

Characters: Last Boss, Niragi Suguru, Cabot

Genre: Just some funky bullying. And a little murder.

1.7k words

Niragi really do be bullying children. Even if the children are kind of dickheads in return.

As you see, I am bad at bullying. What I am good at is just calling the other person very dramatic names.

Also Last Boss is just watching the entire thing.

Sorry it's a little bad.

—————————————————————————————————

If there was anything Last Boss preferred to do other than follow Niragi around, it was just sit in his room alone with Cabot, but sadly that wasn’t an option. Niragi didn’t let him sit in his room, poking him awake with his own cat and then dragging him outside for reasons the other hasn’t even told him yet.

Cabot meows quietly in his ear, paws resting on his shoulder as she perched there, watching the world pass by her. Last Boss feels her nuzzle the side of his head, tickling his ear, Last Boss gently reaching up and scratching her where she liked it. She purrs happily, and Last Boss goes back to focusing his attention on Niragi, who saunters down the halls, gun at his side as always. He doesn’t bother to ask Niragi where they were even going, or why exactly he needed him there. Niragi was weird and usually had his own plans that he acts out of a simple impulsive whim, and sometimes Last Boss was simply dragged into it. Maybe because Niragi kind of thought his presence was intimidating and cool.

Or maybe he was just lonely and Last Boss was the only person willing to be in the same room and not judge him for trying to peel a banana with a coin.

They both end up outside, Last Boss slowly blinking as Niragi walks to one of the cars, glancing back at Last Boss and jerking his head towards it, that cocky smile on his face. “ Well? Come on, we don’t have all day.” Niragi called out to Last Boss, who shuffles over. “ Technically, we do…..” He says, low and quiet enough that Niragi would’ve never heard him as he makes it to the car, opening the passenger door. Niragi was already inside and turning it on, Last Boss slipping inside and shutting the door. He snaps on the seatbelt, Cabot comfortably tucked inside Last Boss’ hood and kneading close to the nape of his neck, where the fabric was.

Niragi drives off, not even wearing his own belt, and Last Boss braces his feet against the bottom part of the car as Niragi races down the empty streets with reckless abandon, the vehicle swerving this way and that. Last Boss had to keep his head down to even process it, the outside making him a little dizzy from how violently Niragi was going. Cabot was at least keeping him stable, her constant kneading against his neck familiar and slow.

He doesn’t know where they where even going until Niragi shuts off the car, Last Boss finally looking up and around him. It seemed to be a simple shopping district, Niragi already walking away without him. Last Boss stays put and watches Niragi, silently testing how far he’d go before realizing (or simply just remembering) that he was there too.

Cabot meows, wriggling herself out and landing on his lap, Last Boss looking down at her. She stretches, and proceeds to also make biscuits on his leg before staring up directly at him.

“…. He’ll come back sooner or later, so ….” He tells Cabot, and as if even mentioning his existence summons the demon himself, there was a loud knock at the window, Cabot scrambling off into the back of the car. Last Boss looks up, staring directly at Niragi in silence, face blank. He didn’t appreciate him scaring Cabot, Niragi just staring back.

“ Come on! I didn’t kidnap you to be lazy and sit there! Come on! I want to walk around!” Niragi knocks on the window again, and Last Boss opens the door, if only to stop him from pounding so impatiently. Niragi backs away to let Last Boss exit, the taller of the two waiting until Cabot hops out and rubs against the duo’s legs in content. Last Boss bends down and pets her, Niragi just staying where he was for a few seconds. He leaves when Cabot focused her primary attention on her owner, strolling off. Last Boss follows him silently, Cabot keeping pace with him.

Niragi wasn’t lying when he said he wanted to walk around, quite literally going inside buildings and straight back out, looking at random trinkets that each shop housed. Last Boss stayed outside most of the time, only coming in when Niragi calls him in to show him something that caught his attention, only to leave it there and wander off somewhere else. Nothing went into Niragi’s possession as far as Last Boss was aware, always set down where it was originally. At one point it almost looked like Niragi would take an old handheld console, but all he did was suddenly ramble on about how long it took for him to beat Sonic before putting it down and walking away.

He looks down at Cabot, who was pawing at a stray dust ball. “ He’s happy about things other than violence. He has a brain, isn’t that nice.” He mumbles, out of Niragi’s hearing range, Cabot batting the dust ball away and chasing after it.

There was a shout deeper in the store, and Last Boss goes to investigate, although at his own pace. Niragi could handle himself, he was sure, so he didn’t feel the need to hurry.

“ What the fuck!? Who the fuck are you!” It was a younger voice, Last Boss slowly blinking as he makes it to where the shout came from. Niragi was standing there, door open, Last Boss peeking in. There, all in the corner surrounded by blankets, pillows, and old thrown away cans, were a bunch of kids, perhaps no older than 14 at best. One of them was aiming a baseball bat in their direction, Niragi scoffing and leaning his weight to the left. “ I should be asking you that question. What are you all doing back here, eh? This place is shit.” Niragi smirks, Last Boss watching the interaction in the background.

“ So? Not like what you had is much better, old man!” “ Wh- Old man?! I’ll have you know that I’m fucking youthful as hell! You look like fucking babies!” Niragi growls, the lead kid smirking and turning the bat in their hand, the light in the room illuminating the dark splotches upon the wood. “ At least we’re decades more spry than you! You may look good, but I bet that your old man bones are gonna fail you!” “ I take care of myself, excuse you! I’ll fucking shoot you right here, don’t think I won’t!” Niragi points his gun at the children with a snarl, a few of the children hiding behind whatever they could. Last Boss didn’t know what to make of any of this, but the determination and bravery on the baseball bat wielding kid was impressive, the kid laughing in the face of death.

“ Oh, too much of a pussy to take a few words? You look like you buy your clothes off the bargain rack! No, even better! You stole them from the thrift store!” Niragi only got more angry it seemed, and as a warning shot a few bullets into the ground, a few yelps coming through from the other end. Last Boss blinks, and looks to Niragi for a second. He seemed infuriated by the kid, and likely wasn’t about to take any of it sitting down.

“ You think you’re so tough, but I’ll show you! I’ll show all of you! You’re just kids, and I’m an adult with a gun!” The other kid snorts. “ Yeah, surrrreeeee…… Bet you think you’re tough too! You look like you try too hard.I mean, look at that face! Piercings all on one side? You look like you have silver moles! They look stupid on you!” The kid retorts with a smug grin, and Niragi huffs.

“ And you look like a generic background character that doesn’t even get a name! Who the fuck made that face? Oh man, your mom probably looked like a hag!” Niragi cackles at his own statement, Last Boss slowly blinking as Niragi looks back at him with a satisfied smirk. “ At least I have a mom! You look like yours went and taught you how to be a badly printed pool!” Niragi rolls his eyes at the kid. “ At least it didn’t print little volcanos on my face! Unlike someone.” The leader glaring at him.

“ That’s just how I look! I’ll get super sexy and all the girls and boys will adore me! You’ll look like a wrinkled pocket receipt , ready to decompose and die Niragi rolls his eyes, and he shoots again, closer. “ You say one more thing and I’ll blow you like a piñata.” The kid grins, and his stupid mouth begins to open,” So in other words, you would blow me? Ewwwww! The weird bag of Adderall and crack is gonna get us! I’m sooooo scared~” He smugly and sarcastically replies, a few other kids joining in a little in laughing.

“ He looks like a discarded charcoal grill!” “ Probably smells like overflowing garbage-“ “ Hey! Do you think he even has a brain in there? Probably filled with tapioca pudding! Ooh, or just black beans!” There was a faint click, and Last Boss doesn’t even have time to react properly then Niragi let bullets fly from his beloved gun.

He sighs once the other end were nothing more than flesh, and turns to Last Boss, grinning. “ I’m gonna head to the other store.” He rolls his eyes, resting his gun back on his shoulder as he leaves. “ They really think they could get away with calling me names?” Niragi grumbles on his way out, and Last Boss merely blinks, not even looking back. Cabot comes around on his way out, demanding pats. Last Boss kneels down and runs his hand from back all the way to her tail, Cabot purring. “ He smells more like a sad sandcastle, actually.” Last Boss mutters, and Cabot meows in agreement, the cat climbing him like a short child using a countertop to reach her favourite cereal on the shelf. He stands up and shuffles his way back near Niragi’s side, not at all ready to deal with his angry grumbling for the next half hour.

#aib #alice in borderland #aib fanfic #alice in borderland fanfic #niragi suguru #last boss #takatora samura #last boss deserves a cat #cabot's back :D #she's just vibing doing her own thing #i sure am bad at being a bully-#ask

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chaoticminhos · 4 years

Text

forget me not

—he couldn’t remember what kind of coffee he liked but he still remembered how to be a gentleman, interesting.

pairing: bang chan x reader

genre: angst

warnings: brief mention of a car crash

words: 4.3k

a/n: i cried while writhing this so 👀👀 not proofread

you stepped out of your bedroom and fumbled for a light switch. between the sleepy haze and you not knowing the house yet, you’d never manage to find your way through it without light. you flicked the switch on and made your way down the hall and into your kitchen. everything was so neat and organized. knowing you, that order would be gone within a few days and would never return. you weren’t really one for organization.

you hissed as your bare feet hit the cold tile of the kitchen floor, cursing yourself for not having worn socks to bed.

you opened a few cupboards before leaning back against your table with a sigh. you just wanted a glass of water, but you were struggling to remember which cupboard you’d put all your cups in. your sigh was quickly followed by a yelp of surprise when someone spoke beside you. you lived alone.

“you put them here.” the voice said as he stepped forward and opened a cupboard you hadn’t checked, revealing the cups you’d neatly stacked on the shelf.

you didn’t reply until he grabbed one of the cups himself and went to your fridge to fill it up.

“what the hell are you doing?”

he turned around, holding the glass of water out for you to take. you just stared at it.

he sighed and sat the cup on the table beside you, “helping you get a drink.”

“no,” you backed away from him instinctively as he came closer, “why the fuck are you in my house?”

you tried to sound angry and intimidating, but you honestly couldn’t. you knew you should be shaking with fear, a random man was inside your house in the middle of the night and you did not invite him in. he was much bigger than you and he could easily overpower you, but all you felt was surprise and confusion. there was no fear. it must be the shock, you told yourself.

he shrugged, “you brought me here.”

you frowned, “i did not. i haven’t brought anyone here yet! i’ve lived her for a total of 1 day and half a night.”

he frowned and walked past you and into the living room right next to the kitchen. he flipped the light switch and made his way to the far end of your living room before picking up a small necklace you had sat on an end table.

you’d gotten it at the thrift store. you went there to find some cheap things to decorate your new home with and couldn’t resist the beautiful piece.

he held it up and you just frowned.

“i’m connected to it.”

he held the necklace and came back to meet you in the kitchen, making sure to shut the living room light off behind him. he held out his hand to you and you let him drop the piece of jewelry into your hand.

“what do you mean?”

he picked up the glass of water he had gotten for you and took a drink, “i’m dead.”

you laughed, “no, i’m serious. why are you in my house? i should call the police.”

he shrugged, “call them if you want to start yourself a bad reputation in this town. they won’t find anything when they get here.”

you shifted your feet and stared at him. it wouldn’t hurt to humor him a little, would it?

“you can’t be dead. ghosts can’t hold stuff.” you motioned to the cup or water in his hand.

“we can’t?” he raised an eyebrow, “where’d you hear that?”

you frowned, “it’s common knowledge. it says so on literally every paranormal tv show.”

he set the glass back down and waved a hand dismissively at you, “please, you believe that shit?”

the frown remained on your face as you nodded, “what other sources would i have?”

he smiled, “you’ve got me now.”

he could see the doubt still covering your face and he sighed.

“don’t believe me?” you shook your head and he never broke eye contact as all of the lights in your house went dark. the ones in the kitchen and the ones from the hallway, your house was pitch black.

you heard him chuckle as you let out a sound of surprise and fear and just as quickly as they were off, the lights came back on.

you stared at him for a minute as you tried to rationalize the events in your mind. it must have been coincidence. it was an old house, the salesman had told you you’d have to get some wiring redone. that was probably it.

“if,” you began, cursing yourself for stuttering, “if you can do that, why’d you use the light switch earlier?”

he frowned in confusion.

“when you went to get this,” you held the necklace up, “use turned the light switch on and off with your hand. why?”

he shrugged, “i don’t like using my powers a lot. sometimes it’s nice to feel like a normal person again.”

you nodded, still slightly skeptical. you hated yourself for thinking as you were, but most of you believed him. you didn’t know why, but every word that left his mouth felt honest.

“so, what? you’re like a genie in a bottle? whoever has your necklace has you?”

he nodded, “sort of. i can actually carry it myself if i want to, go wherever i wanna go, but i like letting it find it’s place naturally.” a smile crossed his features, “brings me to people like you.”

you nodded, encouraging him to continue.

“i’m stuck to wherever it is, but that’s not a big deal considering i can carry it myself.”

you nodded again, taking in the information. you crossed the kitchen and reached up to the drawer the boy had taken a cup out of earlier and grabbed your own, filling it with water and walking past him into the living room. he followed you, the full cup from before in his hand.

“why’d you get another glass?”

you shrugged as you sat down on the couch, leaving enough room for him to sit beside you.

“that ones yours.”

he spoke in a teasing tone, “i thought ghosts couldn’t drink.”

you rolled your eyes and to your surprise, a smile found its way onto your lips.

“so i’m stuck with you now?” you teased.

“no,” he teased back, “you could always give the necklace to someone else, but something tells me you’re going to keep it.”

it wouldn’t matter if you gave the necklace away anyway, he decided, he would just pick it up and find his way back to you.

“okay, ghost boy.” you reached your hand out to shake his, “what’s your name?”

you were shocked at how cold his hand felt in your own, but it wasn’t an uncomfortable cold. it was almost calming.

“chan.”

you woke up the next morning convinced meeting the strange boy was just a dream, but you were quickly reminded that it was not by his voice calling your name from the kitchen.

you jumped off your bed and hurried to get dressed to meet chan, who had spent the night on the couch despite having no actual need to sleep, in the kitchen.

to your pleasant surprise, he had already got to work at making the two of you some breakfast. you chucked at how easily he found things around your kitchen.

“it’s like you know where i put stuff better than i do.”

you surprised yourself with the friendly opening. you met him only a couple hours prior to that moment but you already found yourself being friendly with him. he was someone that was easy to be nice to. he was charming, even.

“i do.”

“what, is good memory a special ghost power?” you teased.

“no.” he shrugged, placing two plates on the table and motioning for you to sit down, “i’m just smarter than you.”

you glared at him as you took your seat but it didn’t last long. chan carried the hot pan from the stove and slid two perfectly done pancakes onto your plate. you moved to go to the fridge to grab syrup and butter, but he motioned for you to stay seated and retrieved the items himself.

day one and he was already proving to be a great roommate.

you ate silently by yourself for a few minutes before chan slipped into the seat across from you after putting his own food on his plate. despite you beginning before him, chan finished his food first. it was weird to you that he did things like ate and drank when he had no need to. from what you’d learned the night before, he doesn’t even have good tastebuds as a ghost, so it’s not like he could fully enjoy anything he eats. you understood his reason, though, of wanting to feel normal and alive.

the following few mornings, you woke up to the same thing. chan in the kitchen making whatever he was making for breakfast that morning. the days went the same too, talking or just watching movies and hanging out with chan. it was nice. you liked his company.

but alas, weekends end and you have school and work to go to when they do.

“can i come with?”

you chuckled, “chan, it’s a closed seminar. you’re only allowed in if you’re a student.”

he pouted, “would he even notice? you said your classes are huge.”

you threw on your coat and opened the door, “i don’t know.”

he followed behind you, shutting the door and locking it behind the two of you. you glanced at him in confusion, “i said no, chan.”

he shrugged, “i can still walk you there and wait for you until it’s done.” he smiled, pointing to the necklace around your neck, “plus, with than on you i kind of have to go wherever you do.”

you looked down at the jewel around your neck, chan had insisted you try it on the night before and you hadn’t taken it off.

you chose not to reply as you started your walk in the direction of your university.

it wasn’t a long walk, only a couple of minutes. you’d purposely chosen an apartment close to campus to avoid travel fees.

the trees and buildings you walked past virtually every day were so interesting to chan, though, that the walk took double the time due to his stopping and staring.

“it’s just a tree, chan.” you laughed.

“yeah,” he replied, “but i haven’t seen a cherry blossom tree in,” he paused, “i don’t really know how long.”

when you finally arrived, thankfully still on time, you tried to take the necklace off and hand it to chan so he could go home or explore some more instead of being stuck around your campus, but he refused.

“i like the way it looks on you.” he grinned, “i’ll be fine waiting here.”

you ignored the fluttery feeling in your stomach at his words and waved him goodbye as you entered the building. immediately, you were attacked by your friend with questions. apparently she’d seen you walk up with chan and you walking with a boy was headline news.

“when did you meet him?”

“last night.”

her eyes widened, “you only met last night and he’s already walking you to class?”

you nodded, deciding not to mention that he also lived with you. maybe you should have lied about how you met. you’d have to lie anyway, it’s not like you could tell everyone he was a ghost.

class went quickly and it wasn’t long before you were walking out of the school and scanning the yard for chan. you locked eyes with him just as he stood up from the bench he was on with a smile and began walking towards you. he spoke first.

“can we go to a cafe?”

“what?”

“i haven’t been out in public with someone in forever, please?” he begged, “i didn’t ever make myself known to the last like 4 people who had the necklace so i never got to do things like go to cafes or shops and interact.”

you smiled but your eyebrows furrowed, “you didn’t? why did you introduce yourself so quickly to me, then?”

he shrugged, he did that a lot, “i knew you’d be fun.”

fun? if he considered sitting inside and watching movies or sleeping all day as you usually did was fun, then he was in for a great. otherwise, he might be disappointed.

you nodded and started in the direction of your favorite coffee shop. it was a little further away than other places, but it was worth the walk. chan was less distracted this time, evidently he’d wondered and marveled at enough trees and skyscrapers to satisfy him while you were in class. instead, you held easy conversation the whole way. it still surprised you how easily words flowed when speaking to him. conversation wasn’t awkward and you never ran out of things to say or out of energy to listen to him talk.

you actually really liked listening to him talk. he had a nice voice.

you opened the door to the cafe and chan followed you inside and right up to the counter. there wasn’t a line, so it was your turn to order right away.

“hi,” you greeted the girl at the register, “can i have a caramel mocha please?”

she nodded and turned to chan, “and you?”

his eyes widened and he looked to you for help, “uhm, i don’t-“ he muttered the rest of the words, “i don’t know what i like.” before turning back to the register. “same as her, please.”

you payed and went to sit down and chan lightly shoved you for laughing at him.

“i got nervous. i didn’t have time to think and i don’t remember what i used to get.”

you laughed, “ghosts are supposed to be scary, not cute nervous wrecks.”

he pouted but didn’t have time to reply as the barista called your name to pick up the drinks. you went to stand to grab them, but chan was up and nearly at the counter before you could even fully stand.

he couldn’t remember what kind of coffee he liked but he still remembered how to be a gentleman, interesting.

you brought the cup to your lips as you watched him take a drink of his own, smiling when he hummed pleasantly at the taste. good thing you ordered something he liked for him to copy off of you.

weeks went by with you living with chan and it stopped feeling weird after a while and started feeling normal. you didn’t know if it was the move of houses or the boy in the house that made you feel safer here than your last home, but it was something.

you’d learned a lot about him in the time you’d spent together. you learned that he was from australia, which you could tell by his accent, and that he died in a car accident. he didn’t want to talk specifics, and you didn’t press it.

you also learned just how charming he was. only a few days into knowing him, he began flirting and making subtly hints towards you. you laughed it off, he was just a playful guy, but that didn’t stop your heart from racing every time he reached for your hand or called you baby.

you knew it was an issue for you to develop feelings for him, not only had you known him for so short of a time but he wasn’t even human. still, you couldn’t deny the butterflies that danced in your stomach when you heard his laugh.

sometimes you thought that maybe, just maybe, the way he acted meant he felt the butterflies too.

like the moments he pulled you close into his side while watching a movie.

“if you’re cold i can get more blankets.” you spoke up at him, face resting against his chest.

“i don’t get cold. i just wanted to hold you.”

or the first time he held your hand.

he was walking you to class as he always did and suddenly you felt his hand grab yours.

“it’s crowded and i don’t want to get lost.” he said, but you knew that was bogus. he would always know where you were so long as you had his necklace on.

still, you let him hold your hand the whole way to school and you continued to let him hold your hand on every walk and any other time he felt inclined to do so.

you were walking hand in hand back from your university when the problems first started.

some boy you didn’t recognize walked right up to you and chan, and you knew immediately that he was no good. you couldn’t pinpoint it, but something about him put you on edge.

that was the first time chan made you take off his necklace.

he turned to you as the man approached, “y/n, give me the necklace.”

you frowned, fingers flying up to fiddle with the jewel at the end, “what?”

“take it off and give it to me and go home. i’ll meet you there.”

you did as he said because between the uncomfortable feeling revolving around the man approaching you and the way chan had never used that tone with you made you panic and you really didn’t know what to do other than to listen to his words.

you unclipped the necklace and jogged home, and chan arrived not long after you. he took his place beside you on the couch and moved your hair aside so he could place the necklace back where it belonged.

“who was that?” you asked.

he wrapped his arm around you and pulled you into his side, “doesn’t matter. what matters is you’re safe.”

he leaned down and placed a soft kiss to the top of your head and held you like that until morning.

the one time freaked you out enough, but it kept happening more and more. every single time, chan would say the same thing. “give me the necklace and go home.” and every time you obeyed because every time whoever was walking towards you two scared the shit out of you before they even got within 10 feet of you.

of course it scared you to leave chan alone, too, especially when they came in groups. you figured they had something to do with a ghost thing, why else would they know chan? because of this, you knew it was best to let him deal with it. and he always did, he dealt with it and met you home after a while and held you until you felt better. he always came home and made you feel safe.

until they started coming to your home, too.

you were sitting on your couch watching movies with chan as usual, but you weren’t paying attention. instead, you were focused on his laugh and the way just being around him made you happy.

he reached to you and his fingers grazed your collar bones as he held the gold chan in his hands. he slipped the necklace out from under your shirt so that it was sitting in plain sight before moving his hand to rest on your shoulder, holding you securely against him.

“don’t hide it. i like seeing it on you.”

you smiled up at him, you liked seeing it on yourself too. it reminded you of him.

the soft moment was cut short by a banging at your door. you stood to answer it, but chan grabbed your arm and pulled you to sit back down. he held his hand out and that plus the wave of anxiety that hit you let you know what was happening. you unclipped the necklace and placed it into his hand. he bent down and placed a kiss to your forehead before moving through the house to open the door.

you heard as he opened the door and stepped out, closing it behind him. for the first time, you could kind of hear the interaction between chan and the strange men. you couldn’t make out words, but you knew they were speaking, and it sounded like chan was angry.

that wasn’t what frightened you the most, though. what terrified you was when you heard a loud slam and someone cry out in pain. it wasn’t chan, you thought you’d recognize the voice if it was, but still.

that was all you had to hear before covering your ears tight with your hands and waiting for chan to come back wipe the tears away, to take the anxiety filling your stomach away and make you feel safe again.

it wasn’t long before chan was stepping back into the house and rushing over to you, cradling you in his arms.

“who are they, chan?” you managed to get out between whimpers.

he just held you tighter, “they’re nothing to worry about, i promise. i’ll keep you safe baby, always. no matter what i have to do, i’ll keep you safe.”

you felt his arms grab you as he picked you up and carried you to your bed, crawling in beside you. he hesitated as he secured the necklace back around your neck and let you bury your face in his chest until you fell asleep.

usually, chan would sleep too, just for the sake of sleeping next to you, but that night he didn’t even shut his eyes.

for the first time since chan had began sleeping in the same room as you, he was next to you when you woke up. usually he would be up and making breakfast, but he was still right next to you with his arm around you and his fingers playing with your hair.

“good morning.” you smiled at him.

he did his best to smile back, “good morning angel.”

he sat there for a moment admiring you before sitting up.

“get dressed.” he called to you, “i want to go somewhere.”

you did as he said before meeting him at the front door. it didn’t strike you as odd, chan liked to go out with you often.

“where are we going?”

“just to the park.”

you held your hand out for him to take and you missed the pain that crossed his features as he took the invitation and lead you from your door and onto the street.

he played with your fingers as the two of you walked in comfortable silence, enjoying the morning air and being alone together.

he stopped when he reached the same cherry blossom tree he marveled over the first time you’d taken him out. you laughed as he stared at it for a moment.

he was so pretty.

he turned to you and grabbed you by the elbows, pulling you close to him. you laughed as he did so, not bothering or wanting to try to put space between yourselves.

“you know,” he smiled softly as he spoke down to you, your faces only inches apart, “it’s said that you can feel a ghosts energy.”

you tilted your head in confusion and he continued.

“you can tell if they’re good or if they want to hurt you.” he smiled, “that’s why you weren’t scared of me when we met. you knew i just wanted to protect you.”

you chuckled, “why are you telling me this how?”

“i’ve always wanted to protect you, and i’ll do whatever i can to do that.”

the happiness from before was slowly leaving you and being replace by confusion and fear as you saw his eyes behind to well up.

“why are you saying this?”

“baby, you know i love you, right?”

you nodded, tears of your own filling your eyes as he rested his forehead against yours, “i know. i love you too.”

he smiled at your words, softly closing the gap between you two and connecting his lips to yours. he lingered for a moment before pulling away.

“i’ll do anything to protect you, even if that means losing you.”

you shook your head, “chan, what are you-“

“it’s better this way, baby.”

he reached behind your neck and unhooked the necklace, holding it in his palm. you reached for it back but he held his fist tight.

“even when you forget me, i will always love you, okay?”

“chan, please don’t,” you started to understand what he was planning, “please don’t leave me.”

“it’s dangerous if i stay. they’re drawn to me, and if i’m with you they’ll always come for you, too.”

“i don’t care, i don’t-“

he hushed you, “i know you don’t baby, but i can’t keep putting you in danger because i’m selfish.”

the tears that threatened to fall from your eyes finally did, and he wiped them away with his thumb.

“can you shut your eyes for me?”

you shook your head no but allowed his thumbs to close your eyelids. you felt his lips against your forehead and you squeezed your eyes shut. when you opened them you were in your bedroom. you were overwhelmed by frustration and pain for a moment before you seemed to lose your train of though. why were you crying? and when did you get back to your room? last you remembered, you were grabbing a glass of water from your new kitchen, struggling to remember which cupboard you’d put all your cups in...

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cockasinthebird · 4 years

Text

Dear anon,

Here’s the Second Part to the request you made about Billy watching Steve masturbate! I would link the first part but then this post wont show up in the tag because that’s how it works, apparently

I think this might be one of my favourite things I’ve written, and yes I know I say that quite often, but there’s nothing wrong in enjoying your own stuff!!!

And I hope that you all enjoy it just the same~

The second time, he sits in a very expensive chair, specifically the one Mr Harrington occupies whenever he’s actually home and dealing with work from his office, the room covered in mahogany furniture and shiny leather seats.

He spins around a few times, taking in the grand paintings on the walls, none of them of the family whose house this is, the glamorous curtains, the small and tasteful plants, and the head of a stag hanging in all its grandiose above the fireplace. Expensive, fancy, ostentatious. A showroom of importance and wealth.

Any one piece of furniture in this room costs more than Billy’s own house, and there is nothing Billy loathes more than rich assholes that think they can buy the world. Which just makes him defiling the heir to this fortune all the more fun for him.

The leather creaks underneath him as he stops spinning. From atop the desk he brings a glass of scotch to his lips, and gives it none of the respect Mr Harrington would believe it to be deserving of; simply bottoms out like it’s a shot of vodka. He licks his lips clean and swallows a few extra times to really enjoy his stealing of the oldest bottle in the liquor cabinet.

Then finally he stands up, slams the glass down with almost too much force on the dark wood, and walks around the desk to sit down in another leather chair, this one facing a couch on where Steve lies naked.

“Enjoying yourself, daddy?” he asks with a smile that runs from one ear to the other, on the verge of cracking his sexy facade.

And Billy laughs heartily at it, throws his head back a bit. “Oh don’t start on that, pretty boy! I am not ready to explore either of our daddy issues just yet.”

Steve can’t help the chuckle that escapes him, then settles it into something more smooth and delicate, teasingly so, as he runs a hand down his side, from chest to hip where it rests. He’s lying on his side, propped up on one elbow, his front turned fully toward where Billy admires the view - still dressed from head to toe - Steve’s cock hard from attention alone, the flushed head resting against the leather. And he waits patiently for whatever Billy has in mind.

When Steve had come home today, Billy had done the whole Marco-Polo charade till Steve found him pouring a drink from the glass bar behind the large desk. He hadn’t bothered complaining or asking any questions about why Billy is in his father’s office, simply sat down when commanded, and stripped without any hesitation when told.

Now they’re looking at one another in silence. Billy spreads his legs as wide as the armrests will allow, and runs his hand rough up and down his girthy cock trapped inside denim still, and Steve’s dark and lustful gaze follows the movement attentively.

“You look amazing like this, Stevie,” Billy mutters, voice thick and salacious as he touches himself through too many layers. “I wanna watch you.”

Steve hums pleasantly and slowly starts slipping the hand on his hip down toward his full erection.

“You said last time you love watching me…” Fingertips graze against his cock, teasing and gentle and slight. “You ever watch me jerk off in private?”

Billy swallows hard, contemplating whether he should tell the truth or if that would be too intrusive to admit. But Steve has yet to get upset at Billy for any of his deviant behaviour. “Yeah, a few times.”

And for the truth he’s rewarded with Steve wrapping his fingers around himself, slowly moving up and down, squeezing around the head that leaks into his hand.

“Ah-h, good,” Steve’s voice starting to waver as he strokes his dick; wetting it with his own pre. “I think about you a lot when I masturbate, fuck, thinking about you at all gets me hard.”

Billy blinks slowly, wanting to meet Steve’s gaze but finds it impossible to look away from how Steve’s hand moves a bit faster. He removes his own hand from the bulge in his jeans and grips the armrests of the chair.

“Do you ever finger yourself when you think of me?”

Steve licks his lips at that, and smiles with certain intent, although Billy doesn’t notice as he’s mesmerised as always by the way Steve touches his own throbbing prick.

“Not always, but whenever I do finger myself, I only think of you.”

“Show me,” Billy demands without hesitation - softly, but with no hint of ‘if you want to.’

But Steve wants to. His breath hitches at the stern tone to Billy’s words, the restraint in his movement clear as he slows down and eases his grip.

“You want me to finger myself in front of you, here, in my father’s office, on his expensive couch?” Steve asks, incredulously, feigning reluctance, yet doesn’t stop the now lazy caress of his lengthy cock, keeps smiling, stays posing on his side.

Billy sits silent, doesn’t respond right away, instead he pulls up a small, inconspicuous, clear plastic bottle from the pocket of his shirt, and tosses it onto the couch.

“Yes.”

Steve looks at it; there’s no labels or text or anything, really the most boring and ordinary little container, but there is no doubt in his mind what it is.

“How do you want me?” he asks and finally meets with Billy’s eyes, a fire there burning hotter than the sun could ever dream of.

“However you do it when you’re alone - when I’m not here to fuck you into your mattress. Show me just how badly you want my thick cock.”

And as is often done in situations where words aren’t needed anymore, Steve simply bites his lip, keeps the bottle firm in his grasp, and gets up on his knees. He turns around on the couch, angling his perfect ass towards where Billy sits patiently like a statue, then bends forward; arching his back and spreading himself before his audience to grant a good look of everything. His leaking prick hanging between his legs, hole exposed fully.

“Fuck, Steve…” Billy nearly gasps at the view - didn’t expect to be this affected by it as he shuffles around in his seat, almost overwhelmed by the urge to just shove his tongue through Steve’s rim and eat him out till he’s cumming and crying. Billy adjusts the taut fabric of his jeans before settling in his place.

The cap of the bottle pops off loudly, lube drips onto Steve’s fingers, and with a careful motion, as to not waste a single drop, he brings his hand behind himself. He runs three digits flat and slick over his entrance, getting himself proper wet, staring straight at how attentively Billy watches, the self control damn impressive as those bluest of eyes twitch at the sight of Steve slipping in his middle finger.

Steve coos and keens, perhaps a bit excessive, perhaps egged on by the way Billy’s knuckles turn white as he strangles the leather armrests. He holds one hand on the back of the couch to keep himself steady as he quickly finds an all too pleasant rhythm that leaves him craving more.

Billy hasn’t been this turned on, this painfully erect, since the first time he saw someone play with themselves, back when he was 13 and stole a porn tape from a thrift store in Cali. He still has it hidden away, mostly for sentimental reasons now, because nothing can compare to watching Steve finger himself open, moaning and dripping worse when he adds a second finger.

“Ah-h, mmh- Billy,” Steve teases with his name on that lascivious tongue.

And every sound that escapes makes Billy’s lust boil hotter, bubbling under his skin, the urge to touch like a strong current pulling him under. Touch himself, touch Steve.

It takes all of his strength not to stand up, close the short distance between them and drive in two fingers past that gorgeous clenching ring of muscle, opening up Steve faster so that Billy can fuck him hard into the leather of daddy’s dear couch, press his face against the cushions and have him cumming in less than a minute.

Steve pushes in a third finger, thighs trembling as he moans out, “Shit, oh-” with an overt shudder running through him as he hits just the right spot.

“Feel good, baby?” Billy asks softly, voice husky and smooth, as he unbuttons his shirt slowly.

“S-so good, ah-” Steve’s prick leaks onto the seat, between his knees, fingers pumping fervently in and out leaves him writhing as he abandons any sense of rhythm, and Billy recognizes the way he’s calling out, cursing, close to mumbling his words.

Knows that it won’t be too long now.

“Fuck, Billy! Billy- Billy-”

“Yeah?” Billy groans out, pleased with how erotic his name can sound when it comes from such a pretty mouth.

“I’m- I’m close.” Fingers go as deep as they can, as quick as they can, it’s almost kinda impressive how rapidly he moves those digits, and it all goes to show that this might be something he does more frequently than originally suggested.

Billy unbuckles his belt, flicks free the button of his jeans, and lets the zipper run loose, immediately bringing some sense of relief to his own pent-up, aching cock. He then removes his hands again, one elbow on the armrest, chin in hand as he continues to simply leer at how Steve fingers himself, how his brows are pulled high and tight, how his eyes can barely stay open as they fight the urge to roll back.

“Think you can cum untouched like this?” he asks, impatience apparent in his rumbling tone.

“N-no, fuck, ah-h-” Steve cries and bucks his hips onto his fingers.

“Hmm…” Billy hums like he’s dissatisfied with that response. “I’ve seen you do it before.”

“Mmhn, ahh, yes, yes- in your ha-ands, not- not on my own,” Steve whines and meets Billy’s gaze with all too sincere eyes.

And fuck if that doesn’t make Billy’s full erection kick and leak in its entrapment - to know that he can make King Steve cum on his fingers or dick alone is empowering, strokes his ego just right.

“Fuck, Stevie, baby,” Billy growls with exposed teeth all predatory and lecherous. "Touch yourself. Cum for me, all over daddy's expensive leather couch."

Steve doesn't waste time before he brings his other hand to his weeping prick, and as he wraps his fingers around it to eagerly jerk himself, Billy grunts lightly as his own cock twitches with overwhelming jealousy.

It really doesn't take more than a few strokes till Steve buries his face against the backrest, crying out loud as he moves his fingers hard and precise, back arching in the most beautiful curve, spilling all over the dark seat as he pumps himself dry of every drop, thighs visibly tensing and quivering.

“Gorgeous,” Billy breathes out, convinced that his grip on the armrests will soon tear the leather apart, his underwear completely soaked with pre.

Steve’s arms fall till his palms rest against the leather seat, his entire being pulsating and shivering with every heavy breath, sounding like he just ran a marathon. But as he moves to change his position, perhaps get more comfortable, Billy intervenes-

“Didn’t say you could move,” there’s barely a hint of play to his tone, “Stay just like that for me.”

So Steve does just that - shuffles around a bit on his knees to kneel better, swallows thickly, and hangs his head low to look at Billy from between his legs.

Billy in turn finally pulls his pained cock free with a loud and telling grunt of relief, the air almost sharp in its coldness, but it’s soothed by his firm hand running up and down his slick erection. Already he knows that this won’t last nearly as long as he wants it to; feels it in the way the coil twists pliantly, thighs and abs flexing at his every move.

“Mmh- shit, arrh, baby I- I want you to show me- fuck- spread your ass out for me.”

And Steve obeys all too readily, moving his hands back to grab a full cheek in both to spread them as far apart as he can, exposing his fluttering hole, puffy and well loved.

The sight of it makes Billy’s hips buck off of his seat, an interrupting moan punches the air out of his lungs, his cock spurting pre something horribly, the sounds of his jerking motion obscene and loud and overwhelming as he grips himself harder- tight like how Steve’s ass would feel right now, wrapped around him, sucking him in, milking him dry, right here in his father’s office, soiling the leather, defiling the high and mighty importance with moans of the heir’s hole getting ravished-

Just the mere thought of what Billy might get to do with Steve in every single room of this house, all goddamn 12 of them, has him cumming in near record time - a loud and unexpected orgasm that crashes through him as he lifts up and into his hand, cursing loudly towards the ceiling, cum shooting all the way up his chest to clash with the sweaty tan skin, painting him in white, pumping till he’s sore and lets his cock go with a hiss.

Suddenly so exhausted he could probably fall asleep right here, eyes closed and struggling to catch his breath as he slumps in the chair. That is until hands land on both his knees, squeezing gently and caressing him, and when he opens his eyes to look down there’s Steve, kneeling between Billy’s legs, a slight smile and the most adoring gaze, a glorious vision that shoots straight through Billy’s heart and overstimulated cock simultaneously.

Before Billy gets to make the next move, Steve crawls closer, brings out his tongue to run it hot and flat over Billy’s flaccid dick, pulling forth a pained, “shit, ah-h!” then continues with soft kisses up his stomach, across his abs, till he reaches where cum has been splashed across Billy’s pecks. And under the watchful stare of blue skies, Steve lets out his tongue once more, licks a stripe through the white pool and swallows with an almost delighted little hum.

A whole show that Billy will play over and over in his head those few nights Steve isn’t around.

And Steve finishes his climb straddling Billy’s thighs, kissing him deeply and passionately, as if he’s not satiated quiet yet, mixing the taste of them with dancing tongues, sweet and salty and strong still with an aftertaste of scotch.

#Harringrove #My Writing #lemon #part 2 of that one request I responded to a few days ago #2.4k words #I should start tagging how many words #so that people know how long it is before clicking #Read more

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