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burning-clutch · 3 years

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If A Ghost Howls In A Forest…

cross posted to a03: https://archiveofourown.org/works/30503925 Danny was hoping his time at a summer camp would be ghost-free, and well, of course not. When would things in his life ever NOT involve ghosts? At least he can hope to get some decent rest tonight, right? RIGHT? Warning: mild descriptions of death

-.-.-.-.-

Prompt by: KC Summer Camps is not complete without a courage test of walking to the haunted woods at midnight. Amity Park campers are weirdly prepared for this. Other campers are not sure how to deal with that

-.-.-.-.-.-

“Why are we doing this?”

“It’s a sort of initiation type of thing.”

“But WHY?!”

“For the spooks?”

“I’ll get the lipstick…”

“Wait what?”

Danny sighed as he watched Tucker neander off back to their cabin to fetch the Fenton lipstick ray, ignoring the looks of confusion that was shot his way from the other campers that he didn’t know from school. Dash and Kwan had thankfully been, well, not assholes the WHOLE time they had been in the camp. Though to be fair, it had only been a day in this week long fun filled… whatever this was.

Apparently, while things seemed to start out well they were told around the evening campfire and cookout, (which was mostly just them poking hotdogs on sticks and trying not to burn themselves when they ate them,) they were told about a tradition about the new campers being lead up to spend a few hours on their first night on a midnight hike through the ‘haunted’ woods.

Danny was the first to groan hearing this followed by Tucker. Even Dash and Kwan looked unamused as well as the random soccer player that Danny vaguely recognized from school.

To say the councillors were confused by the amity park kids’ reactions would be selling the gambit of expression the councillors had. Teenagers being put in charge of slightly younger teenagers, yeah, nothing could go wrong here, nothing at all…

Tucker came back and tossed Danny a wrist ray while tucking the lipstick he had retrieved into his shirt pocket. A boy from some small farming town an hour’s drive from the camp shuddered. “Haunted Woods? How are you not worried about dark haunted woods? Ghosts are in there!” he exclaimed.

“Cuz it’s just ghosts right?” The Amity soccer player shrugged.

“Yeah, I mean the story they told us said that right? Those hikers that got hurt and died in the woods still haunt it to this day” Kwan supplied with a roll of his eyes. The jock wiggled his fingers doing a decent impression of the box ghost with an even more intimidating “OoooOOOoooOO”

“Yeah, unless they’re gonna be sporting some cool gore this will be lame,” Dash added with a yawn. “Pass.” Dash waved the councillor off before trying to turn and head off.

“Well, you don’t HAVE to go on the hike. But those who skip out will have to endure the punishment tomorrow. If you wanna peel hundreds of potatoes tomorrow morning at the ass crack of dawn you’re welcome to head back…. We’re also going to label you as a coward too so there’s that.” One of the councillors says with a smug smile on their face.

“Has anyone ever seen anything like that?” A nervous looking twig of a boy asked, wringing his hands nervously.

“Oh I won’t say anything on that matter” The second councillor, Jeff says. At least Danny thinks he remembers the name as Jeff. He should probably learn that given this guy was in charge of the cabin he was staying in, “It’ll be better to leave it as a surprise.”

The first councillor, a jock looking guy, built like a brick house with thick shoulders and neck but a tiny waist and legs looking very much like he needed a few more rounds on leg day, eyed the Amity group with a look as though he were going to try to take scaring them as a challenge. Danny looked the guy over, raising a brow when their eyes locked.

Great, he and Tucker looked like an easy target. He knew that look all too well having spent plenty of time being bullied as well as with angry ghosts who underestimated him. More fun tonight will be had by all he was sure.

“Don’t worry We’ll make sure you’ll get some proper spooks.” the brick house says with what Danny assumed the other thought was an intimidating grin.

Dash snorted. “Fenton’s probably the only one who’ll get scared of the ghosts out there. He runs away from all of them back home.”

“Have you seen my parents? Get too close to a ghost and it picks up some contamination you know exactly what they’ll do!” Danny spat back with a glare of his own only barely managing to stop his eyes from glowing in his rapidly souring mood.

The other kids at the camp blink in confusion. “Wait… You guys are from that tourist town that goes way too far with the ghost theme right?” asked a pale kid with brown hair.

“Oh please, that’s just a gimmick” Answered another kid who crossed his arms in a huff.

“It’s not a gimmick dude, we even have our own superhero!” Kwan answered.

“Uh-huh. Well you’re superhero ain’t gonna save you from the ghosts out here” Jeff shot back, crossing his arms. “Right, Tom?”

The brick house, Tom apparently nodded knowingly. “Yep, these ghosts are very dangerous and angry ya know..”

“So? It IS Monday,” Tucker offered flatly, earning a snort from the soccer player.

“Can we just… not do this?” A darker skinned nervous boy whined holding onto the arm of the brown haired kid reminding Danny of him and Tucker from two years ago before they got jaded from ghost attacks.

Kinda made him wonder what could have been…

“Nope we're going, so move,” Tom ordered taking up the place at the back of the line while Jeff took the place at the front.

Danny groaned. “Wonder if there will be any ghosts in there?” He wonders to tucker as they were all forced into a line for their ‘spooky’ hike.

“Maybe it’ll be one of Vlad’s abominations?” Tucker suggested.

“Honestly I wouldn't be surprised.” Danny sighed back with a frown. At least if it was a real ghost his ghost sense would alert him to the danger before they got too close.

They entered the treeline and started heading up a hill and towards the supposed site where the hikers had fallen and gotten trapped by a rock or something falling on them. Their legs were broken and crushed and stuck in place, they apparently died unable to get food or drink and unable to free themselves alone, and not able to scream loud enough for help. They still haunt this area… apparently.

Danny had to admit while the tragedy would be able to spawn a ghost but he also doubted there was one sentient around here if there was a ghost at all. He couldn’t sense very high ectoplasmic concentrations around here. Any ghosts that weren’t purely animalistic in nature wouldn’t last long out here without a boost of ecto-energy.

Which means if there was an animal ghost, that boost of energy could come from attacking humans or eating things as animals tend to do... Again attacking humans but instead of feasting on their emotions, well it’s just getting mauled.

More than anything it meant that if there was a malevolent ghost out there that they would have to be on their toes, and Tucker would have to run interference to make sure no one sees Phantom this far from Amity Park.

Well, at least none of the Amity park residents see Phantom this far from Amity.

As they walked up towards the crescent of the hill they noticed it was significantly colder, though it wasn’t a ghostly cold, at least those from Amity knew it wasn’t. The other kids though?

“Oh, man… Why is it so chilly?!” “You think that means the ghosts are close?” “No way man stop saying stupid stuff.”

“It’s probably the river,” Tucker said simply, pointing to the side where there was a winding stream just below the side of the hill. “The way the winds are blowing it’s cooling this area more.”

Danny smirked at his friend's explanation. It was a neat trick sure, but it wasn’t enough to scare the Amity kids. Frowning but not discouraged, the councillors led their troupe up and around towards a cave that was making a moaning noise every time the wind blew.

“They say this is where the hikers were killed, just at the mouth of this tunnel looking for shelter,” Tom says smirking, enjoying the shudders some of the younger teens were giving at the howls of the tunnel. “If you listen you can hear them screaming still.”

“The wind in the tunnel opening?” Kwan asked helpfully.

“No, it’s the howls of the damned.” Jeff encouraged

“And if you look close enough you can sometimes make out the glowing soul of their spirits,” Tom added ignoring the Amity jock.

“Oh neat! I didn’t know they had Panellus stipticus in this area!” The soccer jock said overly happily.

“Dude, when did you become a nerd.” Dash huffed out teasingly.

“I’m studying Bio to get into Uni for Mycology. Dude mushrooms are totally awesome.” Came the smug reply.

“You would know Kevin” Dash snapped back

“Moving on!” Tom called out before shooing the kids away. This was not going according to plan at all… Why are these Amity kids so prepared for this?! Well, hopefully, the next bit will get them…

As they round the cave towards a small rocky outcropping the councillors do their best to draw the younger teen’s attention towards the crevasse where there was supposedly still a shoe from one of the deceased hikers. “If y’all look hard enough you’ll find it I’m sure~,” Jeff told them.

Frowning the kids shined flashlights down into the ditch looking about before one kid called out, “I found a shoe!”

As they did several things happen at once. There was a roaring sound of pain before someone came bolting out of the woods with yellow and green glowing spots all over them. Tucker raised a brow but side-eyed Danny who shrugged.

The Amity kids watched in more confusion than fear as the ‘ghost’ ran out of the woods towards them and took a swipe at one of the youngest teens in their group. “So that’s your ghost? Lame.” Dash huffed out arms crossed. “It’s not even the right colours.” he added with a wave of his hand ignoring the screeching of some of the other kids who were clearly more startled by the ‘ghost’ than he was.

“So, can we go now?” Danny asked with a yawn as the ghost, or really one of the councillors with broken glow stick goo all over them came close to him with an ‘oooooOOOOoooo’

“You guys really didn’t even flinch?!” the ‘ghost complained.

“Oh hey, there you go now THAT looks more convincing.” Someone says just as Danny’s breath fogged a bit before his face.

The halfa looked to where his ghost sense had pointed him to see a big giant green drooling monster beast glaring at the humans towering over the majority of even the tallest in the group. “Yeah, that looks more like a ghost! How’d you do that?” The soccer player said, (Danny really needed to learn his name)

Tom and Jeff and the ‘ghost’ that was harassing Danny all yelp and take a few steps back while the non-Amity kids scrabble and scatter back the way they came.

“No he’s real,” Danny offers with a sigh of exasperation. “Here Cujo down!”

The beast barked and wagged its tail before shrinking down and giving a yip of delight before rushing over to Danny, legs never fully touching the ground as he flew over to the boy.

“Heel! Sit!” Danny calls out stopping the dog in its tracks before the beast could cover him in glowing green slobber.

Cujo did just that sitting practically on Danny’s feet and wiggling his tail so fast it made his butt jiggle back and forth in the effort. The teen sighed and scooped the wiggling beast up into his arms with little effort, mostly due to the fact that ghost dogs only weigh half of what their flesh and bone counterparts would.

“Figures Fent-freak would have a freaky ghost dog” Dash taunted crossing his arms though when Cujo growled, Dash’s smug smile fell.

“Tha-That’s?” Jeff stammered out, pointing a shaking finger at the wiggling green bean in Danny’s hands.

“A typical Amity park ghost yeah,” Danny replied with a grin. “So it's cool if we call this hike a night I’m kinda hoping to get some sleep, that’s kinda why I wanted to come here to catch up on that more than anything…” Danny admitted the last part a little quieter as he put Cujo back down.

The councillor nodded dumbly, moving back away from the teen and the ghost dog, looking as though he wanted nothing more than to bolt when Danny picked up a stick and threw it for Cujo to fetch.

“Awe man I think I stepped in Fen-turd’s dog’s invisible crap!” Dash complained as they all started moving back, Cujo yipping as he came back with the stick giving a snort at Dash before loyally following alongside Danny and phasing through trees as they walked.

Seeing this, Tom decided that it would be best if he hurried back to the cabins to get them ready for the new campers. Yes, That’s exactly what he’s doing…

“Dude you can’t seriously be thinking of keeping Cujo around here he’ll destroy the camp,” Tucker muttered to Danny watching the little pup chase its tail as he followed them.

“Eh, It’s not really fair to keep him in the thermos for the week. Besides I’m sure I can use this guy to get you that extra helping of bacon you wanted.” Danny bribed his friend.

Tucker’s eyes light up and he grins brightly “Cujo here boy! Come see the T-man!”

Danny rolled his eyes, but so long as that was the only ghost they encountered out here, he might actually have a decent week of sleep ahead of him.

He can only hope.

Besides, using Cujo as a threat to Dash sounded like as good a plan as any, and if the councillors were too scared to go near the ghost dog that they would let him sleep in, all the better for him.

Danny smirked, perhaps camp wouldn’t be so bad after all~

-.-.-.-.-.-

Complete Total: 2363

#phic phight 2021 #Danny Phantom #danny fenton #camp fun #Danny is done with ghosts #he just wants to sleep

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hauntedelation · 3 years

Text

Looks Like Rain

Description: Chas tried his hardest to stop everything in the wake of you leaving. He was on a trip, but decided to take another after failing to qualm the pestering images in his mind.

Pairing: Gender Neutral Black Reader x Chas Reader

A/N: I really wasn’t sure where I pulled this from. I listened to a few songs that brought up a few feelings. And then I considered Chas for a little bit, he’s not seen much in this fandom but the young lad deserved some attention. This might be one of my sadder stories that I have written. (It also might not make any sense and I apologize for that lol)

Word Count: 5.4k

Warnings: heavy drug use, smut descriptions (18+!), depressive symptoms, puzzling ending, heartache, confusing feelings, angst, Chas wants to do whatever he feels is the right thing.

Errors weren’t intended, please enjoy y’all!

➽─────────────❥

His thumb pad swiped against his index and middle finger, a little residue was still left over. The specks were embedded in just about any space they could reach; the fabric of his trousers, shirt, and now the microscopic grooves in his skin.

He rubbed and he rubbed. The particles melted away, leaving nothing for the nerves to pick up. Which bled deeper, farther than the nerves, down to the bone.

Then there was the tapping, like a curious thump that you would hear in the dead of night only more rhythmic.

Into the aging cushion below, his hands sank.

The fabric was as lush as can be and would put a hefty dent in anyone's wallet, but it was collecting stains. Dismissed and expendable.

There’s that wondrous breeze slipping through the opened window, sweeping the curtains up and about, untethered from gravity. Evidently untethered from anything and they simply fly for a few moments.

The air was humid, stimulating on his damp forehead.

Chas can smell the night; the smoke and the concrete, the gas from the cars whirring past down below. He wonders about the other odors, those only emerging when the sun disappears, those that signal for the aberrant to come out and run around.

He was close to forgetting the stinging in his nose, the thick liquid dripping over his lips and down his chin.

Dotting his collared shirt, staining the couch.

He licks and he ingests some of the copper. It slides along his tongue, blends with his saliva, and he swallows. It’s familiar, reminds him of being in grade school when he would lose a tooth.

Except, he’s never really enjoyed that flavor. It was the tang that was carnal, rather grisly. His head falls back and he sniffs, using his white sleeve to smear it all away. It didn't matter that much if he missed a spot, everyone in the vicinity was stuck in their heads.

He can hardly breathe through one of his nostrils but he starts to feel—

Seven, eight, nine, maybe ten minutes.

That thumping is back again and it smites like some sort of nitro, white-hot voltage permeating his veins. His jugular throbbed, pushing against the skin of his throat. Then he could feel it right against his skull, picking up by the second.

This was always the moment that you felt most alive. Didn't people say that? Your body works diligently to keep you breathing, to keep you moving forward. You feel the most alive when your heart thuds against your ribs.

Though soon enough, he's not feeling much, nothing in his nose or along the back of his throat. There is some tingling from the bottom of his feet to that sensitive spot near his ears, but it always disintegrates.

It's so close, virtually there—perhaps he's reached it this time.

He wants to spring up off that couch, out the front door to run wild in the obscurity. He wants to do so much He knows that he can, just gotta decide on what. His father's voice comes to him, ‘the world is your oyster, son.’

Indeed it is, but Chas is afraid that those options his father had in mind were far more skewed.

Then he falls in his mind, he's strolling through the halls and inspecting those neurons zooming by faster than the speed he can blink. He sifts through those ideas, tosses away the unappealing. Chas sits and reflects.

He gnaws at a hangnail, and he ponders:

‘What about grabbing those keys off the counter?’ Just a little fresh air, feel the wind on your face and push through your hair.

For the life of him, he can't recall if he's ever taken a drive like that. ‘Have you?’

This is what he asked himself: 'You know where you drive so fast that everything is just a blur? All the colors look like streaks then.

He examines his desire, weighing his options. It's been a long time since he's left that stuffy apartment. No one would be able to stop him, really.

‘Chas, consider how much it would wake you. You might feel even better.’

Through the badly marred reflection of the glass table, he sees the red smudged on his chin and lips, drying slowly and flaking. He sees his grease-tinged hair, no longer in that neat part that he always styled it in.

There's more crimson, like tree roots through the whites of his eyes. There is more contrast with his irises yet they're just about covered with black. They sting every time he closes them.

Chas understands that it's been days since he's laid his head down and slept, been around the same time from him eating last. It was that cycle. He never felt hungry, so he didn’t eat. He didn't feel tired, a few nights without sleep would be fine. He's done this many times back home, in the pristine walls of Bredgar Hall.

It was the warmest time of the year, the moon was out and lazily so. Chas could see it was radiating now and again.

Next to that ray of light, the kitchen stove read 3:36 a.m. He could hear the vague snores of the people in his bed, each of the unknown, pretty, and contrived.

He thinks back to earlier that day. A sea of limbs, each moving with each other. Lips and tongue tasting his skin, teeth sinking in to leave marks. He remembers being in the center, wishing that everything was done harder. As if he needed the rough and the grating for it to resonate, to get his body to respond.

(It’s not like he needed to take a couple tablets to help him get ready.)

He would lay back and watch that orange light at the top of the camera-stand blink, the aperture capturing every movement, every sound. He would be adorned in those men and women, all taken in the flesh of each other—of him.

But Chas would retain that vision like he was standing a thousand miles away. He was never there even after leaving an indent in the sheets.

Time moved faster than he could comprehend now. Several months had to pass by, but he never found himself pulling away. This was what he wanted, wasn't it?

The boy doesn't know what he wants.

He can't feel a thing. Nothing inside his body nor the outside. He spoke with those faceless people, side-eyeing him in his expensive shoes, the creases of his suit jackets. Chas had wishes burning through his eyes and stacks of cash ready at the willing. He thought he was doing it right.

They had to have noticed it. The look of a young man desperately clawing for the keys to warp reality, to forget that...Chas craved this, far more than any breath entering his lungs.

And right here his mind is tormenting. Without a hand grasping at control, he'd begun to see a face in everything, one that was pivotal.

They weren't everyday features. No, nothing that he would see ever again.

Something to your likeliness would materialize in the darkness of the bedroom, your lips and your cheekbones, your voice ringing through a group of people.

He would blink, but no longer would you be there. So he tried his best to keep his eyes open, to focus his hearing. After each disappearance, there was him reaching out with those fingers, trying to feel for himself.

Feedback?

Nothing, you weren't there anymore, just a void remaining. It was that sensation of static on his fingers in that blank spot. There was a rational explanation for it.

So none of it happened.

➽─────────────❥

“I dreamt of you.”

You were still in that position where your head leaned against the white beams of the balcony railing. Your back was supported as well, and your legs stretched out in front of you. Your lap was reserved as a spot for his head to lay.

Your fingertips had begun to trace the line of your lower lip. Absentminded, it was a habit he noticed you perform while amid a thought or two. You had your eyes aimed upward, drifting over the black and swirling sky.

From his place in your lap, he was able to watch the clouds too—only that, the storm brewing above was not the true motive of his attention.

Something began to tug at the corner of your lips.

"Did you?”

You turned your head down to him, peeking through the strands of your lashes. He felt your fingers slip through his hair, stroking against the sensitive spot behind the shell of his ear. He'd twitched a little in response, though he wasn't intending to run from you.

Chas scratched at his ribs and attempted to nod, his head hardly moving against you, all before gathering the memories of that night.

"Yeah, but of course I was in it too."

It took a moment, but you didn't say anymore, you didn't rush him. Chas waited after a low roll of thunder, explicating,

“You and I were sitting in an overgrown field, there was grass but some yellow and orange flowers around us. We couldn't have been older than five. The sky was clear and bluer than I had ever seen it. You were located right next to me, sitting cross-legged in the dirt. I was too, only I was cradling my right arm. It was covered in a hard, green cast. It looked fresh like I just had it put on."

"How did you know it was me sitting next to you?"

You let out this light, airy laugh, and it stirred quite the mess inside of his stomach. Chas' eyes widened, not helping the inhibited expression on his face.

"Uhm–"

He'd forgotten that he never saw what you looked like as a child. He racked his brain,

"I could tell because of the way that your face was shaped, your eye color, and your nose. You didn't appear too different than what you look like now, only smaller."

You pinched his earlobe in jest.

"You were wearing jean overalls that had grass stains on them, I think I was wearing something similar. We were chattering happily but I remember feeling sorry for myself. I couldn't do much without my right arm. You appeared quiet, drawing shapes in the dirt. I didn't understand why until you whispered: 'I'm sorry for chasing you with a frog. I didn't mean for you to fall down.'"

Chas’ fingers twisted around a loose string in the blanket, he paused to gaze at his fidgeting.

"I told you that it was okay and that my parents were only concerned about me. I took the blame for getting hurt and you sniffled, wiping away a few tears. After a little bit, you scooted closer and asked me if it hurt. Your finger dragged along the rough surface of the cast, and I shook my head. 'It only hurts if I bump the cast on something.' So you stopped and looked up at me."

Your fingers began to slow in his hair. Chas paused once again, and he gaped up at you, reflecting. You were inquisitive but the rest of you was unreadable. He could feel that he held all the interest you could give, not missing a word.

Chas waited...for what? He wanted to finish.

"We decided that we couldn't play like we normally did. You were trying to find fun things to do that wouldn't get me hurt again. We had trouble finding one—until a lightbulb went off: I had a black marker stashed in my pocket. I took it out and asked if you would like to draw on my cast."

"You were...absolutely ecstatic to have been the first person to write on it. You brought yourself real close to me, so close that your hair brushed against my cheek. You took the marker in your fingers and began to write on my arm. It took a long time, but when you pulled away to let me read it, it said: 'This is a magic cast that will make everything you're scared of go away.'"

"Even though you scribbled it messily, I could discern what you wrote. I didn't know what to say to you, I just smiled, thinking about all the frogs outside vanishing to somewhere far away. I wanted you to draw more, so that's what we did But, I couldn't remember anything else after that."

Your touch reappeared with more confidence, gliding down his cheek, his throat, and settling to the front of his chest. He had gone to turn his head, still attached to you but looking through the balcony entryway and the shadows of the bedroom.

He waited until he could hear your voice.

"That was...some dream, Chas. I wonder what it could mean."

He hadn’t thought about that. What could it mean? Anything and everything he supposed. You let out a sigh,

"I think the last dream I had was about me playing the piano in school."

Chas hummed, suddenly riveted, you playing? That was certainly news to him. You only showed your skills in other areas.

"Really?"

You smiled, taking a moment to consider, "Yes."

"I love playing, but I am nowhere as great as you are. You've got this way about performing that makes it look effortless. You play freely, pieces that I know are the most complicated. I can't do none of that."

This is where Chas entered a mental block, despite the shade of him glowing nearly sanguine. He knew how it went with you. A willful thing who declares every word with sure conviction.

You never missed an opportunity to speak to him with firm approval, challenging his diffident mind on everything. Taking how gifted he was with a piano, he grappled with accepting that he was as good as you say. (He would if it was coming from anyone.)

Though his image had become so important to him in these past few years. All the eyes of his elders, friends—even his contemporaries were a constant force.

Chas thought that shaping his image for them had become taxing, the most formidable thing.

No.

When your lips formed around those words, the accolade, the delight in your voice. He was tortured with it, repeatedly with no other stressor coming close.

If you did enough in one day, he could feel an ounce of acceptance for it. But, he wouldn't be able to grasp those words for long.

There was a reservation that tossed around in his mind, most frequently in those days he spent with you. Why?

Chas looked back up at your face. "Why do you hold me to such high regard?"

This time you did stop, but you tilted your head down and scanned his face for a little while. Soon, he could feel your fingers tap the center of his chest. With your head, you gestured for him to sit up, off of your lap.

When Chas untangled himself from you, he let go of the blanket, sliding his hands back to brace his weight. He stiffened them at the elbow to support his torso up. And, just as you did, his legs stretched out before him.

You abandoned your previous spot by the railing, rotating to drape over his thighs. At this moment you were just about eye level with him, your body, and his bare before the night.

His abdomen tensed under the light drag of your nails.

You had intended to pierce his eyes with yours. It was only made obvious the way you took hold of his jaw, a different grip than he ever felt from you.

"I'm not very good with words," you began.

Lightning struck in the western horizon, crackling and casting the image so vividly in your irises. It was right then, he could hear a thumping in his ears.

"For me, it's everything that you are. The way you do things, walk through life…You give yourself to everyone, no matter the cost. I've never seen anything like it."

You crept up and stroked the bones in his cheeks, so gently that he thought he'd never felt it. But if Chas could see from your position, he would notice the mindless patterns you were drawing.

"This life is fleeting, you know? Nothing will last, you, me, our friends, family. Even the things we make won't be here forever. It’s just that...something about you bends those rules."

And you grinned, again, with a particular intent. One of your brows rose a fraction as if you were sharing an inside joke with him. Though, he was looking at a puzzle. You were hard to read, always were. Chas got used to it in the time he spent with you. He chalks it up to the way you handled yourself

—but you were never this much.

This night you were some sort of the zenith of riddles. What were you hiding?

A million things could have been behind it. Chas was musing but he said nothing. To be honest with himself, he hadn't been able to find an adequate reply.

You leaned in real close, just like the dream, only, your words danced on his lips.

"There's something…thriving inside you Chas. I think it will last until the end of time."

You pulled back and came another crack of thunder. This one lingered and stretched wide above your heads. Nothing else could be heard between you two.

“That’s why I hold so much respect for you, there’s no one else like you.”

Chas exhaled a long bated breath, disconnecting your eye contact.

He'd begun to feel nauseated. He let his head fall back to look up at the sky, hoping that the cool air would settle him back down. Chas held his focus upward, steadfastly, while your fingers found purchase in his hair.

Eventually, there was a wet smack, a light tap in the middle of his forehead. Then there were more, dozens landing on the balcony floor and the tops of your heads. The sprinkle escalated to a blanket of rain.

He could feel you steal a tender look at his dripping face. You were whimsical when you said it,

"Looks like rain."

➽─────────────❥

Chas placed a glance at his dark surroundings, seeking the nearest interstate. He picked up sporadic wanderers. The tops of their heads glowed under the amber streetlights.

Around each bend of the winding streets there seemed to be someone. Upon his departure from the city, a small group of young adults flickered in his rearview before they disappeared into the gloom.

He wondered why his hands shook, why he couldn't seem to steady them on the wheel. He would tighten his grip on the leather, but there was a shiver each time he removed his fingers to glide through his hair.

Chas had a handle on how to drive this vehicle, he was sure of it. So he turned the volume dial on the radio up.

He rolled the windows down, let the air flood the space and grab at his skin. The wind whipped sheets of paper about in the back seat, spilling them out the opened windows and leaving them forgotten on the empty highway.

He leaned his elbow on the metal rim of the window, taking hold of the wheel in his right hand.

There are neon green signs. Cities and attractions approach in random distances: a quarter of a mile, two and a half. He wants to eyeball what is to offer. What was listed on the signs again? He squints as he gazes down the stretch of the road. He had passed by those placards quicker than he realized.

Chas would dwell, but—did it matter?

Listen, he could drive all night. He didn't have a clue what was to be on the other side of this city, the state. This foreign land and all of the new wonders within it, Chas was a newcomer. He'd been too occupied in the past few days to sight-see.

Yet the gas tank was full. He had nothing to call his attention, nothing to fasten him whatsoever. He could do as he pleased as if he was on the stretch of a vacation. He was.

The boy was just passing through.

He went underneath an overpass, another city limit was swiftly approaching. Indubitably, he did not recognize the name.

The melody of a song comes in from the speaker, and Chas reminisces for a spell.

➽─────────────❥

"What are we?" he asked while you were busying yourself with unknotting his tie.

The sun was falling behind the clouds, and in that old room where he was beckoned Chas saw pieces of dust dance by your head.

Your uneven breaths pushed them away.

Then those very breaths were captured in the juncture of his neck. You had removed the constructing fabric from his collar, kissing down and down, until you couldn't reach past the ridge of his collarbone. Little pink marks were to soon rise in the aftermath.

His eyes slid shut when you reached to untuck the shirt from his belt.

"What do you mean?"

Chas inched into the fog between your knees, not helping his fingers to rid the fabric from your skin. You twisted, sliding your bottom further on the surface of an old table, rattling about books and trinkets.

You took the time to unzip your jacket. Beads of sweat accumulated on your neck. His eyes took in a droplet flowing down and vanishing under your uniform. He wet his lower lip and his palms fell to the tops of your thighs.

You were red-hot, burning him up. How does he say this?

"I mean...what are we? You and I."

Butterflies chewed at the lining of his stomach. He was more anxious than he had ever remembered, skin clammy and sticky but you wouldn't have known the difference.

There had been an understanding, yet the line began to blur during the weeks to months between you two. He would feel sure with himself, confident in what he was feeling. Then you would do something that shatters all that.

Under those thick lashes, he met the color of your eyes. There was an expression that was light as air, almost too broad. Even more weight flowed into his gut, seeing the ludic curvature to the corner of your lip.

You wound your fingers over the back of his neck and brought his mouth to yours. There was a vibration coming from your lungs, the familiar melody of your laugh.

You pulled away here and there, murmuring,

"We're just friends, yeah?"

Chas was brought so close, he thought he would fall into the table. He made a move to nod his head, humming a low confirmation. “Yeah.” He knew that, but…

His lips were suddenly released. The tip of your nose brushed along his, and for a second or two, you shared the same air.

You grasped him with your other hand, trailing more wet spots down his chin, surely picking up the small pricks of hair there. When you reached that point where his pulse lied—he stumbled, hips falling forward.

He wasn't able to control what arose from his throat. You were the same. Chas pressed onward and your voices were laced with hushed release, both echoing into the empty room.

Wider, your thighs opened. His hands were rehearsed, shifting the most sensitive spot on your skin, taking hold, and lifting.

He dug into you to the point where his belly touched yours, forgetting what his last thought had been. Until he could hear you, quietly, teeth grazing the shell of his ear,

"We're friends who like to do this."

➽─────────────❥

Over and over and over again. It had become more than an occasional blip, ignoring the importance of where he was or what he was doing at the time. What if he was in class? During a meeting with someone higher up? Or when he’s staring at a wall?

He thought about you far more than a friend should have. Much more than what should have been the understanding. (Whatever that originally was.) He lost the ability to distinguish what was, what you originally wanted out of this companionship.

And did you come to realize it?

There was an unsettling feeling inside of him. Christ, you saw past the veil he strung up, after all that time. The lingering looks, the book with your name scrawled in it about a thousand times or more. You stared at his boyish face and you were appalled by what you saw. Obsessive, wretched, flawed.

Well, then it made sense then, why it went the way it had or why it went at all.

Everything seemed to be flowing for the longest time, flowing continuously in the same direction. You still took his hand in yours and you still laughed in a dulcet tone.

You'd tugged him out of his dorm room late at night after everything was quiet. He was greedy and drank everything up.

He could take it away by the last words you spoke to him, the last image of your face, or the weight of your voice in his ears. It was complicated, and he couldn't understand—

"I’m not staying in this town anymore. I want to get out, be exposed to more than this."

Chas heard the song fade and the radio station shift to another. He had taken a right after departing from the highway, following the path of an old Mazda.

The street lamps were softer than the city he left from, the temperature of each bulb matched, never flickering. Chas didn't sense unease, no. The atmosphere of this place was placid. There hadn't been much wind, the strange sounds of the night.

The number of people out was scarce, (unlike the last town). If you could see someone out and about they moved rapidly, almost like they rushed to get home.

He shifted his eyesight and noticed the windows of a few businesses illuminate. The smell of grease and meat wafted up to his nose.

Light was approaching from the east, the dark indigo sky transformed to violet.

There was another hour before morning came and the boy still couldn’t figure out where to go.

He wasn’t running, nothing of the sort was in his mind. Only the feeling of finally moving, getting outside, and feeling the fresh air on his skin. He saw new, experienced new. He believes that, well, if he drives enough maybe he will start to feel better.

Ah, he wonders what you would think. ‘Where would they say I should go?’

He can hear your voice in his ears, saying ‘Go. Go as far as you can until you feel satisfied with what you see. Find something beautiful.’

And, Chas wants to stop to think about what that entails, what you would have considered beautiful. You were particular, a little unusual with your selections. He remembers how you collected beer bottle caps with a specific font on each one, or your affinity for yellow-colored notepaper.

He struggles with his memory for a moment or two, finding the car taking a left at the light.

He looks up and the Mazda is no longer in front of him, the multi-laned road is revealed to be empty and he is the only one cruising west. In the smudged mirror, he saw no sign of headlights, no people, no sudden movement.

The reflection of the town behind him only shone back, with the barely noticeable sway of trees.

In the air, he can smell something faint. At the start, he can’t place his finger on it. What and how to describe it? He wants to say that it reminds him of his grandparents, their amazing home with the high stone archways, the land stretching to the ocean.

That’s what hits him, the sea. He can envision the waves crash and pull back now, how hypnotic it was to him as a child. The color was bluer than anything else.

The scent of the brine and the fish grow stronger as he passes several neighborhood streets. Soon enough he starts to believe that he’s found his answer for you.

➽─────────────❥

He met you in a lone part of the local library, where the walls saw thousands of students from decades past and were in dire need of renovating.

It was private, though, that's why you wrote the location down on a sliver of paper and pressed it into his hand. He was distracted when you had, eyes probably glued to a book or two.

But he didn't forget. There was a peculiar way that you didn't stop. You didn't tell Chas where you were going. When he brought his eyes up to the world around him you had been long gone.

So he was there, a hand rubbing at his ironed blazer and the other holding the paper up. He stood outside and double-checked the number on the building before walking up the front steps.

His eyes were taking in all that you had on the table. There were more stacks of books than he was able to count, more sheets of paper, pencils, note cards. On the floor close by your feet were crumpled up sheets. That was when he saw your damp cheeks and the mess your hair was in.

You removed your head from your hands and the look you gave was reminiscent of someone lost.

“I can’t figure this out, Chas. This paper...it’s due tomorrow morning and I don’t understand what to put down.” (You had no one else to go to.)

Chas had been unsure in that instant, without a clue of why. ‘Think’ he would tell himself. Your eyes were so dim when he peered right in them he couldn’t help but hold his breath.

He remained stiff in front of you. In his hand resided the directions to the library, but it slipped and fell to the floor. Your tears dripped from your cheeks and landed on the crumpled paper, mixing with the ink on the surface of the pages, staining them.

It took a moment for the boy to move his legs, his eyebrows rose and pinched together as he crouched close. To your left was where you opened up, his hand took hold of the pencil from your hand and set it down.

Your chin was nudged upward between his index and thumb. And right then he could see past your reddened eyes, “Hey...hey hush now. I’m right here. It’s going to be alright.”

“Is it?” You softly bit. “I feel so dumb, I can’t see the answers right now.”

You brought the back of your hand up to rub at your eyes, and Chas frowned. He glanced at all of the papers on your desk, all of the scribbled words. To his knowledge, he understood that you were turning in a final paper.

His last day had been that day, only earlier and involving math and science. But that didn’t mean that Chas wouldn’t know the feeling you had in your chest. All the pressure building up. He loathed watching your body sink in that chair.

The details and the guidelines for your assignment would have to be determined next, and he questioned you what it all entailed.

“Well…” and you sighed. You carried on telling him about what your Professor wanted, stopping here and there to close your eyes to gather your thoughts. You spend a few minutes doing this, not catching that Chas moved you so that you resided on his lap.

It’s not like you never did this before, there had been only one chair in the room. The boy wasn’t even sure what he had done then, all his attention was focused on your face, the papers on the table.

He remembered you mumbling a sorry into the fabric of his sweater, something about how you should have looked for a second chair but he shushed you again.

This time you let go, you let all of your weight onto him and burrowed yourself closer. He scooted up to the table without any effort. Chas let you watch while he gathered a fresh sheet of paper and a pen. His left hand rubbed up your back, resting there.

In your ear, he whispered, “Let’s see what I can do.”

➽─────────────❥

He had approached an intersection adjacent to the entryway of Leobourg Bay. No other vehicle shared the road with him up until that point. The radio falls silent, as with the rest of the world outside his window. He tilts his head and, the wind didn’t blow, the trees halted their swaying.

A warm-colored light starts to shine, spreading over the car and blanketing his face. Chas takes a breath past his lips, gathering it in to fill every cavity of his lungs. The thumping stays as he enters the crossroad, and in his mind’s eye, he can hear you again.

Another moment passes by until his lids flutter shut, fingers sliding from the wheel of the car.

➽─────────────❥

Taglist: @mansaaay @feralrunaway @hope-to-hell @brandycranby @luclittlepond @madbaddic7ed

➽─────────────❥

#chas quilter #henry cavill x reader #henry cavill fanfiction #chas quilter x reader #chas quilter x you #non binary reader #black reader #henry cavill x black reader #henry cavill x black!reader #Looks Like Rain

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infinitum-imaginaerum · 5 years

Text

Wonwoo | A.23 “Look me in the eyes and tell me you love me | 😻 Anon

Words | 3,365

Notes | Very soft angst, but still very heartfelt angst. One curse word. Super domestic. Thank you for being so patient with me, I hope you like it!

Night after night it seemed like Wonwoo was out, leaving you to go to bed by yourself. After a while, you got used to it. But what you never got used to was the way he’d crawl into bed next to you (if he even did, because he often didn’t) and rolled to face his back towards you without even muttering so much as a goodnight. You’d be lucky to get a chaste kiss against your sleeping cheek, but even that was scarce.

For the longest time, you tried to let it go. Maybe he had a lot going on, maybe things would change. It was hard not to accuse of him being unfaithful, so sometimes when you were home to watch him leave, you’d ask him.

“Again?”

“Yeah.”

He was fairly dismissive with you, and you’d be lying if you said it didn’t eat at your nerves, if it didn’t eat at your very soul. You loved Wonwoo more than words could describe, and you never wanted to be labeled as that crazy girlfriend who always had to know where he was or what he was doing or who he was with. You let him have his freedom, but maybe you were too forgiving when it came to keeping your mouth shut because he seemed to continue to take advantage of it, always pushing your limits further and further to see what he could get away with.

Honestly, if he wanted to leave you, you couldn’t fathom why he just wouldn’t. He never struck you as the type to stay with someone he didn’t belong with, or even try to keep up a façade when he clearly was unhappy. Maybe that was the reason you just let him be, to ride it out and hope that things would go back to normal.

But it had been a long, long time since things were normal. Your friends noticed that you were moping, that you were a lot more negative, a lot more emotional, a lot snippier than you used to be. They tried to convince you that Wonwoo was making you acrimonious—maybe he was. At some point, you had to try a different approach because the one you were using was not working in the slightest. So, the next time he rolled back home at some ungodly hour of the morning, you laid the hammer down.

He ambled into the bedroom the same way he always he when he’d gotten home from being out, trying to keep quiet so that he wouldn’t wake you. But you’d been expecting him, laying awake and facing the window where the full-moon light blared into your bedroom and onto your face as you stared out the window, listening to the door creak open and his quiet footsteps settle in.

“I don’t want you in this bed without an explanation,” you grumbled firmly, not even bothering to turn over to look at him. He sighed heavily, and for a split second you thought he was preparing to tell you what was going on—until you heard the click of the door against the strike plate as he left back to the living room to take his place on the couch, in the dog house where he probably belonged.

Several nights after that, Wonwoo didn’t even bother come into the bedroom. He would arrive home and make his place on the couch without even thinking about you in there. He knew your purpose, you deserved an explanation, but he wasn’t ready to give one to you yet, as he still wasn’t sure himself just what it was he wanted. Although he was staying on the couch, you at least afforded him the courtesy of some blankets and pillows and some type of squishy surface to sleep on with a roof over his head instead of banishing him to the streets to fend for somewhere to stay for himself.

You were still at least that gracious, despite his coldness. You still made him dinner on nights he was home and took care of most of the chores and kept the apartment neat, despite his un-deservingness. He had to hand it to you, no matter how mean and quiet and cold he could be towards you, you continued to be the woman he always knew you to be—the one in charge who took care of things that needed to be done, who never dilly-dallied about anything and always knew what she wanted. He felt ashamed, laying there on the couch, for the things he’d done to you. It was rare for him, but he could feel the tears prick at his eyes as he laid on the couch and stared at the ceiling, wondering if it was worth it to fight or if it was better to walk away.

Did he love you, or not? Did he want to be with you, or not? Was he just complacent, had things slowed down too much and he was getting bored because he was looking at the relationship for the wrong reasons? He hadn’t gotten there yet; he was still stuck on whether he loved you. Tricky thing about that was that he had to look at the deeper questions. What was the glue holding your relationship together and why did it feel like it was drying up and crumbling apart? Was it him, or was it you?

“It has to be me,” he uttered under his breath. He came to the realization that he couldn’t possibly have given you enough time to prove that it was you, if he was never there. That sounded so cliché, though, the it’s not you it’s me line. That sounded like a cop out, and a rude one at that. You deserved so much more than this, than him, and he knew it. Now that he had been banished to the couch for the foreseeable future, he had a lot of time to think without you there. It was clear that you’d tried a different approach, even he could see that, so maybe he had to try a different approach, and he promised he’d begin starting the next day.

The next day, he came home with a different mindset and a different objective. It was up to him to attempt to save the relationship, because he had realized that you were trying your best, but you were getting fed up. He had a small bundle of yellow tulips in his hand when he finally popped the front door of your apartment, but not without taking a deep breath. He wasn’t surprised to see you, but you sure were surprised to see him.

You were making some food, not anticipating that he was going to be home, when he opened the door. At first, he avoided gaze with you and kicked his shoes off and shrugged his jacket off to hang on the coat rack. Maybe if you ignored him, he’d leave like he always did. But that wasn’t the case this time. He ambled into the kitchen, flowers in hand, and took you by the waist to spin you around to face him and planted a gentle kiss against your forehead.

“Good afternoon,” he mumbled into your skin, your half-clenched fists pressing against his chest, a little startled, as you blinked a couple of times, trying to tell if it was really Wonwoo. You could hear the crinkling of the plastic around the flowers in his hand that he pressed into your side while the other hulled you in around the back a little tighter.

“Good afternoon,” you replied, but it didn’t sound cheery.

“I brought you some flowers,” he told you, presenting them.

“They’re very beautiful, thank you,” you replied and took them from him once he finally gave you some space to wiggle out of his grasp and find a vase for them, only to be placed nicely on the dining room table after you’d affixed the same purple ribbon that came around the flowers to the vase. You’d returned to the stove not long after to finish your food, only to hear Wonwoo’s deep sigh as he plopped onto the couch. A part of you begged to ask why he wasn’t going out, or if he was going out, but you’d made enough food for the both of you, so you decided to just let it go. Maybe this was his step, maybe he’d realized his ways and started with the flowers, so you’d give him one free pass.

“Dinner’s ready, if you’re hungry,” you chimed from the kitchen and pulled a couple of plates out of the cupboards.

Truth be told, he wasn’t very hungry. This entire situation had put a huge knot in his stomach, as he was definitely walking on eggshells with you. He could tell by the way you reacted to his forehead kiss that you were on your last leg. He would be foolish to deny a dinner you prepared for him, so he pushed up off the couch and came into the kitchen to dish up.

He quietly took his place next to you, where he normally sat in a spot that had been barren for so long when you sat there by yourself to eat, and started to pick around at his plate. It took you less than a second to realize his nerves—he’d been your boyfriend for several years now, so you’d like to think you knew him pretty well. You tried not to eyeball him or his plate as he picked around and ate quietly, but eventually he reached over to take your free hand, half-furled against the table to cup over it for a moment. He maneuvered under it to take it into his hand and brought it over to press his warm lips against the back of your fingers.

“It’s delicious, thank you,” he told you, a little more full-bodied than his statement about the flowers earlier. He looked at you with conviction, for the first time in a long time, and watched as you nodded with a hum, a forced half-smile on your face before you returned to your food. Even still, your hand remained in his as they slid off the table. The soft warmth of his skin against yours was a feeling you missed dearly, even as something as simple as holding your hand.

The evening continued quietly after Wonwoo cleaned up from dinner. You sat with him on the couch, mostly separated, and watched reruns of a show you used to watch together all the time. He made no attempt to check his phone or find a distraction with anything else, just simply enjoyed your company next to him, the way it used to be. It had dawned on him before, but it really solidified just how bad the relationship had gotten because he couldn’t find a way to rekindle that love he used to have for you, the love he begged and pleaded to still be in there somewhere in both you and himself.

You were curled up in a blanket in the corner of the couch, keeping your distance because you were still wary, and especially now that he’d drastically changed directions. Then, he did something you didn’t think he’d ever do again. He reached over to the blanket and untucked it from under your feet and, with hesitation on your part, brought your legs over his lap to stroke against your smooth skin. It wasn’t implicative, it was innocent as he continued to mindlessly draw circles on your skin as he watched the TV. On the other hand, you watched the side of his face, looking for any indication that he was trying to hard not to crack.

“Thank you for cleaning up,” you finally told him.

“Of course,” he hummed back and turned from the TV to look at you.

You wanted to ask him do desperately in that moment if he still loved you, the glimmering in his dark chocolate eyes a sight you missed so, so, so much. You just wanted to relish it, because it was a rarity anymore, so you did. He looked at you so tenderly, his fingers against your skin just as so, and he seemed to have no intention of looking away before you. This was the Wonwoo you loved. The attentive, sweet, and gentle man you fell in love with was definitely somewhere in there and you could tell he was trying hard to bring him back.

Wonwoo leaned over as far as he could after a moment, begging you to meet him half-way. Nervousness and hesitancy pumped through your veins like adrenaline—it had been so long since you last kissed him, you weren’t even sure you wanted to anymore. You put it aside for a moment, for the sake of your relationship, and met him half-way more or less. His soft lips meshed against yours seamlessly and he kissed you like you’d never missed a beat with soft fingers tracing against your jaw before he pulled away. It took your eyes a moment to flutter back open, but when they did and saw that dazzling shy little smile across his lips, you could feel the hesitancy in your heart slowly fading.

For the remainder of the evening, you mostly minded yourselves even for the majority of the time that your legs were still cast over Wonwoo’s lap until one of you had to get up—they didn’t return to his lap after that. Once it came time for bed, you had a decision to make. Even though Wonwoo followed you to the bathroom to brush your teeth and other nightly routine things, there was the question of if he was allowed to sleep in bed with you again. You weren’t exactly sure what you thought of the entire situation. It wasn’t as if he’d been absolved of everything that had happened between the two of you just because he brought you flowers and stayed at home for one night.

The fateful question came as the two of you were cleaning up the living room a bit. He looked over to you folding up the blanket that he used to sleep on the couch with the last several nights, the one you’d wrapped yourself up in earlier while he moved the pillows back to their proper spots.

“Where would you like me to sleep tonight?” he asked you.

You blinked a few times, looking at the blanket in your hands before you slowly turned your gaze up to him. He looked hopeful, but not too much so, that you’d let him sleep in his own bed.

“What do you think you deserve?” you asked him, trying to find a middle ground; Wonwoo was always the type to be reasonable.

He gnawed on his bottom lip and cast his gaze away from you. He knew what he deserved, even in his own eyes, as he looked over to the couch again.

“I’ll stay here again tonight,” he told you and gathered the blanket from your arms, “but I would like to tuck you in.” He dropped the blanket back on the couch and followed you into the bedroom, ushering you a little bit when you thought about changing his mind about where to stay. Slowly, you crawled under the covers with Wonwoo’s aid and settled into your side for him to pull the covers up over you. He leaned down, pushing some hair away from your forehead to place a lingering, tender kiss against it.

“Goodnight, my sweet, kind, caring, tolerant, patient girl. Please rest easy tonight,” he muttered into your skin, before he was almost on his way out. He jerked back a bit when you reached out from under the covers to grab his hand and turn him back to you.

“Look me in the eyes and tell me you love me,” you challenged. He, and anyone else, could say sweet things so easily without looking into the eyes of the one they were saying those things too; there was a sense of detachment that was easy to get by.

Wonwoo sighed heavily, knowing this would come sooner or later. Truth be told, he did love you dearly, still. There were some things he needed to work through, some places where he needed to try and others where he needed to try harder. After coming to the ultimate conclusion that he was the cause of the roughness between the two of you, his thoughts weren’t clouded about how he felt about you anymore. Complacency was a silent relationship killer and sometimes it took a different route to keep the zeal alive.

He sat down on the bed, dipping the mattress next to you to turn and look at you. Again, he stroked some hair away from your face as you looked up at him, eyes already glossy assuming that he couldn’t. He gazed down at you so softly, looking over your face a couple of times but always came back to your eyes.

“You know I love you more than life itself,” he whispered to you. You could feel and see his sincerity. “I wanted to give you a better apology, and I didn’t want it to have to come out like this, but I do want you to know how sorry I am. I fell into complacency, and I know that’s not an excuse, but I want you to know that I’ll do better, that I take responsibility and I’ll be a better man for you.”

It was inevitable, the way the waterworks turned on despite how well you’d been keeping it together through this whole thing. Hearing him apologize, knowing the he knew how hard you’d been working and how difficult this whole thing had been was liberating in and of itself. Tears streamed out of the corners of your eyes, back into your hair and into the pillowcase while you attempted to stave some tears, blinking them back.

“I’ve not been good to you lately, and you don’t deserve that at all. You deserve someone who works hard for you, like they’re trying to make you fall in love with them every single day. I’ll admit, I didn’t understand why these things were happening, and I’m glad you banished me to the couch, I’m glad you put your foot down because I probably wouldn’t have seen it. All this time, I thought I had fallen out of love with you, that I only loved the memories we made and that relationship didn’t exist anymore. I was focused too much on those memories instead of continuing to make new ones—”

“Wonwoo—”

“In short, I’m an ass, and I’m sorry, my darling, for everything you’ve endured because of me.”

“Sometimes, you’re really hard to love,” you said, trying to laugh to make it feel light, even if you were still crying, “but even then, I do my best.”

He chuckled a bit and leaned down to brush his nose against yours. “And for that, I am so fortunate, and from now on I’ll do the same, even if you’re never hard to love.” He pressed a gentle kiss against your mouth, one that confirmed everything he said was true, that he was sincere, that he would go back to the man you loved before.

“Even though we’ve kissed and somewhat made up, I still think we could use one more night of space.”

“You’re just worried I’m going to cry the whole night with you in here.”

“If I know anything about you, you will, and I’d rather you not fall asleep with tears in your eyes,” he whispered back, brushing some stray tears off your face. “After all, I still don’t think I deserve it. So, give me one more day to prove that I do.”

You nodded back to him, even if you knew he was going to do what he thought was best anyway. He kissed against both your cheeks and bid you goodnight once more, and closed the door behind him quietly. He made good on that promise, and all the promises he made that night.

#wonwoo #jeon wonwoo #svt #wonwoo scenarios #wonwoo oneshot #wonwoo imagines #svt scenarios #svt oneshot #svt imagines #wonwoo angst #jeon wonwoo scenarios #jeon wonwoo angst #svt angst #wonwoo requests #svt requests #seventeen scenarios #seventeen oneshot #seventeen imagines #prompt game: svt fas

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razorblade180-heated · 4 years

Text

Plugged

[Lewd!!!!]

Anniversaries, they’re important as hell. You would think after the first one that it would be less important or you don’t have to be as extravagant. That’s really stupid logic, and luckily Oscar wasn’t stupid. However, he was sad. Today marked the three year anniversary with Penny as his girlfriend but she had work tonight. Now he was in his shared apartment watching movies on the couch upside down with Jaune. It wasn’t terrible, but Oscar would much rather be doing his best to show Penny a good time at the beach picnic he’d plan. The moon was full tonight and everything!

The movie soon reached its credits and Jaune looked over at his clearly lovesick roommate. “Wanna watch another movie?”

“I didn’t really want to watch this one, and why am I the only one watching these upside down?”

Jaune tilted his head to see the boy's expression. “Because I was tired of seeing that sad pouty face. Buck up! You rescheduled your date for this weekend. That’s two days away!”

“But it feels less special…” Oscar groaned.

Jaune looked at him in disbelief. “I swear you’re just a male Ruby. She thinks like that.”

“I don’t know how I feel about that coming from you. Are you coming on to me Jaune?” Oscar smirked to make him uncomfortable. “Did you pick me as a roommate because I remind you of your girlfriend? How scandalous.”

Jaune chucked a pillow at Oscar and caused him to fall over on the floor and laugh. Jaune would be mortified but at least Oscar was smiling.

“Do not make those jokes young man! I fully believe Ruby would be down to clown with both of us now that you’re eighteen.”

“Uhh, I’m taken, remember?”

“Do you honestly believe Penny wouldn’t okay it? Ruby set you two up and your girlfriend is nice enough to let Ruby pull a crazy idea like that.”

Oscar’s face turned a little red. Jaune was not wrong. Penny would totally say “sounds neat” then give him a thumbs up. That was the thing about dating her, she was curious about everything the world had to offer. Especially with relationships. Not that he wasn’t, but such an idea was….

“Keep your mind out of the gutter Oscar.” Ozpin chimed in, internally. “Typical, haven’t slept with anyone and yet you fantasize the more advanced things. Oh virgins.”

Oscar’s face got redder.“Shut up! Just because you know I thought about it doesn’t mean you gotta bring it up.”

“Someone has to call you out on it.”

“Then let it be the person who actually pays rent.”

“Oh I’m sorry, who got you your job? Who works the night shifts when you’re sleepy? Maybe I should lock myself away whenever it’s time to pull a double?”

Oscar sucked on his teeth for a minute. “Oz…” he said kindly, “Let’s not fight, or do anything drastic.”

“Look at the tv.” Oz said bluntly.

Oscar looked at it to see his reflection. It crossed its arms and rolled its eyes before returning to normal. Oscar knew he was the only one seeing that but it never stopped being weird. Especially after the marathon of horror movies he did with Penny one time. Oz made sure to use every scare tactic imaginable that night. He just can’t help himself sometimes.

Jaune finally found another to watch but didn’t get the chance to play it. The doorbell rang, causing him to spring up and answer it.

“Expecting someone?” Oscar asked.

Jaune looked through the peephole and smiled. “Kinda sorta” he opened the door and Penny jumped inside the room wearing Oscar’s green flannel and ripped blue jean shorts: along with brown snow boots. A picnic basket was on her left shoulder and Ruby around her right.

“Happy Anniversary!!!”

“PENNY!!?” Oscar screamed. He immediately stood up to look less lame and opened his arms to his rapidly approaching girlfriend. He wasn’t expecting her to jump into his arms though. Oscar braced his body for impact but was surprised when she landed in his arms no heavier than a regular girl. 130 pounds at best, which was nothing to him. He could swing her.

“Hey you’re in you’re in your polymer shell. I thought you had work?”

Ruby raised her hand. “I stole her.”

Jaune and Oscar looked at each other highly concerned. They didn’t need Atlas military busting down their door and dragging them to jail. Ruby broke out into a laugh from their expressions.

“Relax, I’m just joking. We begged James. He’s such a softie.”

“I’ve also put in more hours than usual in preparation for this day!” Penny kissed Oscar’s cheek and couldn’t hide her excitement. Not like she ever did. In a way, she was like Ruby but more outgoing. Oscar couldn’t help but think about what Jaune said earlier. Maybe Jaune saw all of us like Ruby. That’s a weird thought.

As happy as he was, Oscar couldn’t help notice the picnic basket.

“Penny, is that for the food?”

“Of course! What else would I use it for?”

Oscar let out a defeated sigh. “I don’t know but we should figure that out because I didn’t cook anything because we rescheduled.”

Penny opened her mouth but nothing came out. She turned to Ruby who was face palming. Jaune clapped his hands together and mimicked Oscar’s sigh.

“Welp! At least you two are together!” Jaune smiled, saving the positive energy in the room.

“Yeah!” Penny tossed the basket on the couch. “Home cooking isn’t the most important thing. Who needs it?”

Ruby went to their fridge and opened it. She couldn’t believe just how food was stuffed in it. Oscar was going all out this time. Ruby closed the fridge and pulled out their pots. “New plan, the two of you cook the food and have dinner here. It would suck for the food to spoil.”

Oscar thought about it. “What about you two?”

“It’s an anniversary, not a double date. We’ll just go to my place.” Ruby answered.

“Why does this sound like an elaborate plan for you to sleep with Jaune?”

“Hahaha! I don’t need a plan for that.” Ruby smiled at Jaune but he squinted at her.

“Just because it’s true doesn’t me you have to say it.” He grabbed his shoes and took his girlfriend by the hand to leave.

Ruby waved her friends goodbye and winked before closing the door. Oscar thought Ruby was a little more gitty than usual. It had been a couple of weeks since her and Jaune were together so something was bound to go down between them. Penny took off her shoes and put her hands on Oscar’s shoulders. She positioned him over the couch and made him sit.

“Ummmm Penny?”

“Since I made the plans derail, I’ll cook and you find something nice to put on for the both of us okay?”

“But that’s kinda unf-”

Penny leaned down and pressed her lips gently against Oscar’s. The kiss felt like it was minutes long but must’ve only been several seconds. Strange, it felt a little warmer than usual. Penny pulled back and smiled her usual beautiful smile, then walked to the kitchen. That kiss scattered Oscar’s thoughts, so he stared at the tv for a minute before remembering to find a movie. If he objected then Penny would simply stun him with another kiss. A nice way to say “shut up”but she’d probably end up burning food if he constantly distracted her.

Oscar grabbed the remote and began scrolling, his reflection in the tv moving on its own again. It paced from side to side while rubbing his chin.

“Don’t you find this a bit odd?” Oz asked.

“Yeah, please stop walking in front of the synopsis.”

“That’s not what I- sorry.” He stepped to the side. “I was referring to your anniversary.”

“What’s so odd about it?”

“You had plans, had to reschedule, then the plans went back to normal unexpectedly, but it’s fine because Ruby already had a solution that works well for everyone. Even Mr. Arc didn’t seem too surprised.”

Oscar shrugged, “You think too much.”

“Gah! So you’re not even going to entertain the idea of something going on? Though I suppose since Penny can’t lie, this could really be coincidence.”

The clicking and presses slowly came to a halt. Now he was rubbing his chin. What Oz said was true. Penny can’t lie because she’ll hiccup however, she didn’t tell him in person. Penny texted him and Ruby can plan tricks as easy as killing grimm. Oz sensed Oscar’s doubt.

“You know I’m right. No way they would just forget that you were in charge of food and had to cook it. I’m sure there’s a harmless explanation but you know, keep your wits about.”

“I could just ask her.”

“Boring but effective. Whatever floats your boat.” Oz finally left the young man alone to his devices. Oscar didn’t appreciate the jab he just took.

“Pfft, you’re boring.” Oscar directed his attention to Penny. She was so focused on preparing the meal that she hadn’t noticed he was looking right at her. He really was lucky to have her. She would probably say Oscar was exaggerating but he genuinely believed that she gave him all the happiest he could ever ask for. Days simply couldn’t be terrible as long as Penny stood by him, even when things got rough. Scheme or no scheme, Oscar didn’t worry. He knew Penny. Good intentions ran through her more than anybody else on Remnant.

xxxx

“Food’s ready!” Penny chanted as she carried two plates with steak, sliced potatoes, and fresh greens over to the small coffee table in front of the tv so they can watch movies while they eat. Oscar never got enough of her smile. It might’ve been because he was a little hungry and he knew her cooking was better than his but right now, Oscar wanted to marry this girl. One day hopefully, on another anniversary.

“Have I ever told you how happy I am to be with you?”

Penny’s face grew a little red. “All the time, and yet it still feels unreal admittedly.” She rubbed the back of her head and laughed sheepishly. “I don’t think I’ll ever get over it.”

Oscar gave her a quick kiss and smiled. “Happy anniversary. Wait here while I get your gift.”

Her eyes lit up with excitement as she watched him walk off to his room and come out with a small rectangular box. “Aww, you didn’t have to get me anything.”

“Penny, you built me a car last year. I can’t reach that level of awesome but I’m at least going to spoil you every chance I get. It would be a crime if I got you nothing.”

“You make it sound like building a car would be hard. It’s way easier than most of the things Atlas military creates on a daily basis.”

“No matter what you say, you’re not gonna downplay that gift. Anyways…” he handed her the box.

Penny wasted no time unwrapping the paper and opening it.The girl’s eyes got bigger and let out a gasp. “Oscar, is this…” she pulled out a golden chain that had a heart shaped locket on it that had intricate carvings of what looked like branches. Her finger lifted the top up and inside was two gears that spun. One green, and the other orange.

“No matter the inside, you’re as natural as nature itself.” Oscar said. “I’m not the greatest at making things like this but-”

“I love you.”

Her words caught him off guard and made his heart skip a beat. He looked at his girlfriend who had gotten a little teary eyed. She put the locket on and gave a heartfelt smile. “Well, how does it look?”

“Perfect…” that was all Oscar could manage to say. He didn’t know why but he felt so embarrassed. She never failed to make him feel so flustered. That’s love for you, it always made every minute feel extraordinary and uncharted territory.

“So...I guess it’s my turn to explain my present to you.” Penny said, anxiously rubbing her finger across the couch cushion.

“Man, I thought the highlight was the surprise appearance and you cooking dinner. There’s more?”

“Oh yeah.” Penny laughed nervously. “Oscar, you know you always say that you’re perfectly happy with the way things are between us, despite us not necessarily being a normal couple?”

“Yeah, why?” Penny could hear a bit of concern in his voice and started getting frazzled.

“Don’t worry! I feel the same way!” A hiccup came out right as she finished that statement, making her cover her mouth instinctively. Now Oscar looked really concerned.

“Umm, you sure about that?” He asked, pensively.

This conversation was going nowhere fast. Penny tried to do collateral damage as fast as she could.

“No no no, it’s not what you think! Honestly I’m super happy. It’s just….”

Oscar raised his eyebrow and tilted his head. “Just…?”

This was harder to say than Penny thought. The words were there but she couldn’t put them together right. All that information at her disposal and here she was, struggling with simple sentences. Penny took a deep breath and started over.

“Oscar, you love me the way that I am. You’ve had since the beginning. I didn’t have to change a single thing about me but I did anyway so we could enjoy each other’s company better. Like this polymer model so we could do things like go swimming.”

“Yeah, sinking to the bottom of a lake wasn’t the best first date experience.”

They both chuckled at that memory. Time sure did fly.

“Precisely. Then there were other upgrades over time to help me feel more human. Receptors for, taste, eating in general, heat, touch…” her trailed off.

Oscar’s focus was broken for a moment when the sound of Oz’s voice started speaking to him.

“Oscar I’m going to lock myself in your head for awhile so don’t expect any help with anything. Good luck.”

He wasn’t sure what Oz meant by that but he didn’t get the chance to ask before he felt the man’s presence leave. Oscar focused on Penny again who had gotten closer to him on the couch. There was practically no space between them as they sat side by side.

Oscar felt Penny take his hand. Had she always been this warm? Felt this...soft? It was more natural than usual. Maybe she got another upgrade? That was common.

“Oscar, I...I feel so normal around you. Things that usually make me feel out of place, well I don’t get that feeling with you.”

“I feel the same way. As far as I’m concerned, we are a normal couple Penny.”

“Then shouldn’t we be doing normal couple things? The things Ruby and Jaune do?”

That question lingering in the air momentarily for Oscar as his girlfriend stared at him, red blush spread across her face. His own face started to get red the more he acknowledged what Penny had just said. He watched the girl lean closer to him until he had no choice but to prop himself up with his forearm as Penny took the bold move to straddle him. She gently took his hand and placed it on her right boob, squeezing it slightly. Oscar felt like he was about to pass out.

“P-Penny?”

“I didn’t have work today.” She admitted. “With the help of Ceil, Ruby and I managed to get me some upgrades I’ve wanted for a while. Like better touch sensitivity, the way my skin feels, and other...components.”

Both of them were a blushing mess at that last part. Oscar was smart enough to know what she meant. The reason however, that escaped him a little.

“Why go through all this? I mean, I never went into this expecting you to do something like this for me.”

“Because even if you’re happy with me emotionally, I don’t want to rob you of the physical experience a real girl could provide. I know you try and I hide it but you’re still a boy with needs.”

He couldn’t deny that. There were many times he looked at Penny or thought of her in a physical way that made his imagination go a little rampant. He was young after all, and she was so beautiful. Oscar felt a little guilty for not being upfront about it with her and avoided her gaze. Penny reached for his face though and turned it back towards her. She wanted to see those beautiful eyes of his when she confessed.

“ I did it for myself as well. Oscar I want to be close to you, feel connected to you. Doing this, is a thing I put a lot of thought into. I wanna try at least once. So please, will you have sex with me?”

She was nervous, down right terrified of what Oscar might say. Was this too much as once? Would he deny her request? Oscar was just looking up into her eyes silently with no indication on what was going through his mind. Penny was beginning to think this was a terrible mistake and removed his hand. She started to move off of him when Oscar suddenly sat up. His hand wrapped around her waist and Penny yelped as he placed her on his lap. Now they’re face to face, inches away from each other with red tint darker than Ruby’s hair.

“Oscar?” Penny whispered, anxiously waiting for him to speak. The way he leaned in compelled her to do the same.

“Penny, stop saying you’re not a real girl.” Oscar pressed his lips against hers. He could feel them tremble slightly before returning the embrace with more than equal force, rubbing Oscar’s chin at slightly pulling down on it to slide her tongue in. The sudden act gave Oscar shivers and made him pull her in closer. This wasn’t their first kiss like this, but it was definitely the first time it made Oscar this anxious. The tension he felt right now to stop himself from going too far or fast felt like he was playing tug o'war against a Goliath. That feeling went away the moment a small and fleeting warmth hit his face. Oscar broke off the kiss to see Penny teary eyed. The girl let out a giggle and started wiping them away.

“Penny are you okay? Did I-”

“Don’t worry, it’s not you. Well it is you technically.” She lightly giggled again. “I’m just really happy right now, that’s all. Let’s keep going okay?”

Her arms went on either side of his shoulders and wrapped around. Oscar gave the girl what she wanted and went right back to kissing her. She felt warm, very warm. Oscar couldn’t explain it but made him want to touch her more. Before he knew it, Oscar had leaned forward until Penny had no choice but to lay down on the couch and let him hover over him, not that it bothered her one bit. To see him be this into it was exciting to say the least.

The feel of his lips ended again when Oscar had no choice but to catch his breath Penny was ready for him to come back for more but was surprised when his face went past her own. Suddenly her body flinched the moment she felt him kiss and nip at her neck. Now she really didn’t know what to feel! This was something he hadn’t done before but it made her hard to lay still. His teeth gently grazed her until one nip sunk in more than the others.

“Aaa~” a moan finally slipped out from her and Penny quickly covered her mouth while Oscar stopped to look at her, also surprised. He honestly wasn’t sure if that was going to do anything for her. Apparently it did.

“You good?” He smirked.

Penny nodded and uncovered her mouth. “I don’t think I’ve ever made that sound before.”

“Well...today is going to be full of it hopefully.” Oscar grabbed the bottom of his orange shirt and pulled it over his head, freeing him from the stuffy fabric.

Penny only watched from underneath him. It was hard to believe when they first met that he was shorter than her and tiny. Now he was 5’10 and had a physique of an expert huntsman. His shoulders had gotten broad and there was practically no fat on him. His chest widened out and he was cut! Ruby had compared him to a pro swimmer before. His skin had gathered a handful of scars over the years. A couple along his torso and a few more faded ones on his arms. She was pretty sure there was more on his back too. Him and Jaune were almost the same bulk. It made her wonder if Jaune had looked like Oscar at fourteen. That thought was interrupted when the feeling of his fingertips went across her collarbone and down to the first bottom of her shirt. He had kept his gloves on for some reason but honestly, Penny thought it was pretty attractive. Ruby has clearly influenced her taste.

It only took a few seconds for Oscar to unbutton her shirt completely.

“Woah...” Oscar said without thinking.

He hadn’t noticed earlier but she wasn’t wearing a bra like usual, probably so he wouldn’t fumble with it. Today really was planned. That didn’t make seeing Penny’s bare chest any less of a hurdle. They were somewhere in the middle of Weiss and Ruby’s, but perkier. Not to mention her nipples were real pink and a little puffy.

Penny could feel his stare on her and it made her turn her head to the side. Something about it made it really hard to think and breathe a little heavier, which only made Oscar more turned on. It didn’t help that she was technically still in his shirt and the necklace he just gave her dangled around her neck.

“You’re breathtaking…”

His words made her face feel hot and ears red. “Can you not stare too much? It’s embarra-ahhh!”

Oscar’s hands gently grabbed the orbs and massaged them as he bent down and started kissing her stomach, scattered with freckles.

His kisses were slow and deliberate. Causing Penny to moan or gasp anytime his tongue pressed against her before his lips sucked on that spot as he made his way down her now arching body.

“Oscar…” was all she could manage to moan. How was he so good at this? Was he good, or was she a lightweight like Ruby had described to her? She just knew she liked this feeling. It was easy to understand why people talked up sex, why Oscar was so clearly eager despite not telling her directly. Her eyes shut tightly every time his thumbs methodically traced around her nipples, causing her to suck air in through her teeth. The fact this was foreplay only made Penny more excited for the main part.

Finally she was given a moment to relax. Penny propped herself up with one forearm to see Oscar unbuckle her shorts. Penny raised her hips up again for him to pull the fabric off, flinging it on the ground. Despite the flannel, she only had frilly pink panties on now that had become more than a little damp. Oscar thought now would be a good time to remove his own pants. He sat up to undo them but Penny unexpectedly grabbed his wrist. Her face at waist level to him as she was on her hands and knees, while Oscar rested on his knees.

“Let me.” She said in a voice that Oscar couldn’t begin to describe, but it made him gulp. Penny’s nimble fingers made quick work of the button and purposely slow work of the zipper. Oscar lifted one leg up at a time for her to pull his pants off. Now they were more or less in the same boat in terms of nudity. Penny couldn’t help but stare at the bulge in her boyfriend’s dark blue boxers. She reached out to touch it and wasn’t expecting to hear Oscar let out a light groan as it throbbed in her hand. Penny looked up to see Oscar red in the face and avoided eye contact with her.

“Did that...feel good?” She asked, genuinely wondering.

“More than it probably should’ve.” He admitted. “It feels different when...it isn’t me touching it, better.” He added.

“I see, do you...touch yourself often? Penny didn’t know why but asking such questions felt so overwhelming. Her hand gave the clothed shaft a few more gent strokes, earning another groan. Penny didn’t know Oscar’s voice could sound so husky and deep.

“Every so often.” Oscar couldn’t stop his hips from pressing more into Penny’s hand until she hooked his waistband and pulled his boxers down. She let out a little “eep” the moment his manhood sprung out. It was different from textbooks, bigger. Half a foot maybe? It was about as wide though. Penny put her hand around it as much as she could. She wasn’t expecting it to feel so hot, so alive. Her hand started stroking it without even thinking. Again she was rewarded with the sound of Oscar’s voice. Penny really liked that voice. Another personal question came to mind that she couldn’t help but know.

“When you touched yourself, did you think of me?” Her breathing got a little heavy asking that. It was enough to make Oscar twitch and throb even more in her hand.

“Yes!”

Penny had no more questions, nothing else going through her head. Just the reaction to close her eyes and wrap her lips against Oscar’s searing length, gradually sinking her head down it before coming back up to the top, then down again.

“F-Penny!!!” Oscar shouted. He tried his best not to buck his hips but he couldn’t help himself. Penny used her free hand to grab his and rest it on her head. Her tongue slid around his manhood while she picked up the pace. His attempts to stay gentle made her really happy but it was clear to her that Oscar had forgotten something he didn’t have to worry about with her. Penny had a lot of things that made her more human in terms of design, a gag reflex wasn’t one of them.

Every second, Penny could feel him move more and more. All she could taste and smell right now was Oscar and the arousal that leaked out of him. Penny hummed lightly which only Oscar thrust a little harder, turning the hum into more of a moan. It didn’t take long before the sound of Oscar moaning joined the mix of scandalous sounds in the living room.

“Wait Penny, Penny I’m…!!!”

She was too lost in the moment to really register his plea. A couple of moments later and she felt Oscar grip her head especially tight, his body tensing up as he came. The taste from earlier had suddenly gotten a lot more potent. Penny’s eyes widened as ropes of seed were shot into her mouth. Still, she kept sucking just a little longer just to make sure nothing spilled out when she finally removed herself from him. Unsurprisingly, he was still hard. Ruby had told her that it was pretty common for young men to recover in no time at all, especially if they’re pent up.

Penny sat on her knees and looked up at Oscar, who had gotten a little sweaty and was breathing heavy. She was feeling pretty proud of herself right now.

Oscar had a million feelings right now and didn’t know exactly where to start. “That was… really good.” He huffed. “Let me get you a napkin so you can spit-” Oscar saw Penny gulp down his cum right before he could finish his sentence. If he wasn’t hard and blushing before, that would’ve done it.

“Sorry, what were you saying?” Penny said, still chipper about what just happened.

“Nothing, just…that won’t mess anything up internally will it?”

“Oscar if I can eat food then I can swallow.” She said, grabbing her drink on the small table next to them to wash down whatever might’ve remained in her mouth.

It was hard to argue with that logic. Penny wouldn’t do anything that would compromise herself anyways, he hoped. She did like magnets after all.

Penny put the cup back down next to their untouched food and wrapped her arms around Oscar again. She pulled herself back onto his lap to get a kiss that had somehow gotten more feverish than last time. Oscar’s hands went immediately to her soft and plump rear, grasping it firmly before pinning Penny underneath him again. This was good, she really wanted him to take the lead on this one. The way his erection poked at her inner thighs told Penny she didn’t have much of an option to begin with.

Oscar slid his right hand up her leg and under the then layer of fabric she had left to touch her soaked lips directly. The hold she had on him tightened while she gasped into their kiss. He kept trailing up and down his slit until his middle finger barely pierced her entrance. The heat and grip surrounding the digit was enough on its own to make Oscar shiver.

“I wanted to return the favor of going down on you, but I don’t think I can wait.” He groaned, centimeters from her ear.

“I’m perfectly fine with that. I want you inside of me.” Penny lifted her hips again. Her panties came off faster even than her shorts did, Oscar practically tossed them across the room, making her giggle. She liked this side of him. He was still caring but also very assertive in a way that was new to her.

Penny let out another moan as she felt his length rub against her. Oscar locked eyes with her and gave her a quick peck on the lips.

“This way you don’t have to worry about me staring too much.” He joked. “I love you Penny Polendina.”

Her hand gently reached to grab her new necklace, her other and rubbing the side of his face. “I love you too, Oscar Pine.” She returned the chaste kiss, which quickly turned into a passionate one. Penny bent her knees more and spread her legs wider as Oscar began sliding into her hot entrance. She shut her eyes and moaned deeply, his manhood only a few inches in.

“Go slow please!” Penny gasped. Her body felt weird, but also really good. There was also a slight mixture of pressure that gave her a little discomfort as she was slowly being spread open. Penny could still feel pain after all. If you wanted to experience something good then you had to accept the possible flip side. That was good though. Pleasure, pain, good taste, bad taste, having the full range was ideal; it was normal.

Oscar did his best to go slowly. The way she coiled around him with such heat made him want to lose composure so badly, but he fought the urge. It took a minute before he was finally completely inside of her. Oscar took her left hand then interlocked their fingers. He had never seen Penny look winded before. It was...kinda cute.

“Are you okay?”

“Sen...sational” she giggled, out of breath. It had been awhile since she said that. “You can move when you're ready.”

“You sure?”

“Positive”

Oscar kissed her forehead. “I’ll start off slow.”

“Thank you…” Penny felt so weak right now and she didn’t know how to explain it. All she knew was it felt great. Not only that, being with Oscar like this made her happier than she could’ve imagined.

Oscar carefully started to pull out to the very tip before sinking back into Penny’s depth, making both groan all over again, again, and again. It didn’t take too long for Oscar to get to a rhythm of rocking his hips into Penny. Any pain started to subside and leave pleasure in Penny’s wake as she held onto Oscar by having her arms around his body. Oscar could feel Penny dig in a little into his back the more she moaned and got lost in the moment.

“Faster…” She finally moaned. Oscar didn’t delay in giving her what she wanted, what they wanted. His hips picked up the tempo until the couch started to creak from their love making. Any thought about controlling her moans were thrown out the window. Penny couldn’t resist moaning his name with every thrust that struck her deep inside. The only time noise went down was when the two kissed deeply.

Oscar brought her left leg up and around his lower back, while the right one dangled off the couch. This change in position brought Oscar even deeper than before; to the point Penny’s body arched again, rubbing against his.

“Gods Oscar!” She moaned, “You’re so deep” Penny found herself trying to sync up with Oscar’s rhythm, finding it the moment he grazed a new spot within her wall that made the spasm and Oscar bite down on her neck again.

“You’re so tight. So...ahhh! Penny!” Oscar couldn’t think straight. He could only keep rutting into her like a beast in heat. The apartment echoed the sounds of him slamming into her. It was a good thing he had aura, Oscar might’ve gotten a bruise otherwise. They found themselves staying like this for several minutes. Touching, tasting, hearing the intoxicating pleasure the other was making. As if it was the only thing that would sustain them. If it were up to them, this moment would’ve lasted forever, but neither of them could resist the intense urge building inside of them.

Oscar sat up and grabbed Penny’s hips, stabilizing the both of them as he continued to pump into her. He couldn’t help but stare at the womanhood that enveloped his length. The sight of her arousal covering and dripping off of his length only shortened his fuse. Oscar wanted to cum so badly but not alone. His thumb slid closer inward and started grazing her clit every time he thrusted into her. It gave him the results he was looking for. Penny started gripping the couch cushions and her voice started to get even more pleading.

“Oscar~!!! It’s too much!” She whimpered.

His own limits were finally reaching their end. “Cum Penny! Cum whenever you feel like it.” A thin layer of sweat started to coat Oscar as he tried prolonging the inevitable. “Fuck I’m so close!”

The pressure inside Penny just kept building and building like a knot that kept going pulled tighter. Until finally…

“OSCAR!” Penny felt that knot snap. Her walls mercilessly gripped Oscar with a grip that made him cave in at last, erupting rope after rope inside of her. She felt each one and made her shiver. Penny’s face went completely red. She couldn’t imagine the amount Oscar came. It was more than earlier! Oscar’s body finally came down from the adrenaline and he fell right next to her, thoroughly exhausted. Another thing Penny didn’t have to worry much about. Granted she was a little tired, but could easily be active for days on end still.

The girl looked at her tired boyfriend and rubbed his face. “You okay?”

“Happy Anniversary” he chuckled. Penny did the same and kissed his lips quickly.

“I’m gonna get dressed, put the food up for later, and then we can cuddle here?”

“I don’t deserve you. You’re so wonderful.”

“Not as wonderful as you are. Seriously, thanks for accepting me for me, but also still be willing to accept more of me. Letting me grow, change, and try to feel more...you know.”

“I will always support any version of you that you want to become. Forever and always. My other half.”

“My soulmate.” She rubbed her fingers through his hair as he started to doze off a little. Penny happily hummed and got up to clean.

Oscar laid comfortably on the couch. The presence of Ozpin slowly returning before he fell too deep into sleep.

“Good job. Personally I would’ve used the bed conveniently in the other room but hey, things happen fast.”

“Please tell me you weren’t watching all that?” Oscar groaned.

“Of course not, I believe in privacy. It’s not my fault you’re replaying what just happened. It’s kinda unavoidable, sorry.”

“I don’t care, I just can’t believe it went so well”

“I can, muscle memory remember? This might’ve been your first time but you have a massive pool of prior knowledge. Completely blowing it wasn’t gonna happen. I told you good luck for confidence.”

“How’d you know this would happen? Prior knowledge?”

“Oscar, it could be a faunus, human, android, or Salem, certain cues from women just do not change. I saw it coming a mile away.”

Oscar yawned and sunk deeper into the couch. “I guess it pays to be immortal. You know a lot.”

“A blessing and a curse. Like I know for a fact there’s no way Pietro approved or even knows about this scheme, or whatever upgrades she got for this occasion.”

Oscar’s eyes opened back up. There was no way Oz was wrong was wrong about that. If Oscar wasn’t tired, he’d be freaking out. Instead he simply closed his eyes again.

“I’ll cross that bridge when I get to it.”

xxxx

Ruby laid on Jaune’s bare chest in bed as she went through her scroll during the movie they were supposed to be watching. Their clothes were scattered everywhere and they couldn’t be happier.

“Hey, I got a text from Penny. Looks like the plan worked.”

“Good for them.” Jaune said, playing with her hair. “Pietro is gonna murder him for sure.”

“Good thing you boost aura and healing.”

“Oh, so that’s your grand scheme. Hey, I’m happy to serve.”

“Yeah you are.” She puts down her scroll and straddles Jaune. “Think you can serve me at least one more time?” She took the remote away and smiled.

Jaune couldn’t help but smile too and flip her over to be on top. “I’m always up for your schemes” the two kissed and enjoyed their time together.

#rwby #rwby ships #penny polendina #oscar pine #rwby ozpin #ruby rose #jaune arc #rwby lancaster #rwby data farms

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datenightfright · 4 years

Text

Infamous

This story is dedicated to Oiwa. Thank you for allowing me to share your story, may you one day find peace.

Previous/Next

Pairing: Kayako Saeki x WOC Reader

Warnings: Mentions of blood, stabbing.

As always, thank you to @mlmdarkfiction and @doodleferp for letting me rant until I figure things out and giving me the best ideas to work with. Your help is indispensable.

Things were strange nowadays. Somehow, someway, you had become more famous than your husband. When the news of your husband’s strange death hit the media, news crews were outside of your house immediately to bombard you with questions. Did you think it was the work of Kayako? Would his new book be published posthumously? Did you notice anything strange about the house? Did you have any idea who murdered Haru? You did what the police advised you to do. You made a blanket statement to the media at a press conference stating that you hoped your husband’s killer felt remorse and that they would come forward soon, and that you hoped, with time, you’d be able to find happiness once more. You even managed to sound perfectly broken up about the whole matter.

Some people said you were the one that had done it. Well not, physically, but you’d hired a jealous lover to off him. Thankfully those people were in the minority. The prevailing theory that was some crazy fan had felt slighted by him and decided to end his life the moment he stepped foot outside his house. The theory among his fans though...that was closer to the truth than you’d like to admit. They were adamant that the house had killed him. That the ghost of Kayako had offed him and chucked him out a window. The hole in that theory, however, was why you and your daughter still lived. Didn’t Kayako kill everyone that entered her house?

When you’d told his mother over the phone, the normally stern, composed woman became a wreck of lamentations for her lost son. You helped you father-in-law arrange the funeral, as was your duty, and decided to hold the viewing in their home, since yours had such awful rumors hanging about it. The funeral had been a quick one, but tiring nonetheless.

Now you were alone in your house, letters and presents from fans stacked about the place, wondering what the hell you were going to do with your life. You had to get a job. Being able to feed yourself and your daughter was of the utmost importance to you. Luckily, it wasn’t such a pressing matter, as Haru left everything he had to you, which was a sizable amount of money, and being his widow meant you got all the royalties from his book. But still, that money would dry up eventually, then where would you be?

You hum and splash warm water over your daughter. She giggles as you do so. “Clean baby!” You coo, rinsing the soapy water from her feet. “I have a clean baby!” When you’re finished, you pick her up and bring her to your chest, despite her soaked state. She giggles as you place kisses to her cheek. You turn to gather the towel, managing not to yelp when you find Kayako standing directly behind you, towel already in hand.

You ignore what looks like Kayako wanting to hold your baby, and instead simply take the towel from her. “Thank you,” You say, wrapping your baby up. “Clean baby,” You start to sing again, “I have a clean baby.” You shuffle past Kayako, holding your baby close as you go.

You continue to sing as you dry Sakura off, dress her, and feed her. Today was going to be a big day. Today you were going to meet with someone that might be able to help you with your problem. You might be able to rid yourself of Kayako once and for all. If not for your sanity, then for the sake of your daughter’s ability to lead a normal life.

You feel her presence as you put on your shoes. She was always there at the door when you put on your shoes. Her death rattle soon to follow. This time, she grabbed your arm, startling the hell out of you. She was cold, so damnably cold. You look into her eyes. Normally they’re empty pits of black, but now they look...panicked almost. “I’ll be back,” You find yourself saying. “I don’t know when, but I’ll be back.” You give her a shaky smile. She seems to find that an acceptable answer as she lets go of your arm after a moment’s hesitation. Without another word, you slip out the door.

You try not to rush out of the shadows of the house, but you couldn’t help it. All the time you could get outside of that damnable place was a moment of fresh air and sunshine. Gloom hung eternal around the home, and god dammit you needed to breathe every once in a while. You turn on to the main road, feeling yourself relax more the further away from the house you got.

You make it to your mother-in-laws house with little problem. Parking on the side of the street, you get out and gather your baby. Before you shut the back door, your mother-in-law is rushing down the drive to greet you. She pulls you into a hug before taking Sakura from your arms. Ever since Haru died she’d been more...tolerable of your presence, sometimes going overboard with affection. It was still awkward for the both of you, but neither of you said anything about it. Perhaps it was because you were the mother of her last connection with her baby boy and she understood that you could take all that away from her. Ironic, really.

You hurry up the drive behind her as she babbles to the baby about how much fun they were going to have. You both stop in the doorway, you huffing at your slight exertion, and your mother-in-law giving you that infuriating expectant look. Some things never changed. “Here,” You say, shoving the baby bag to her chest, not caring how rude it was. She didn’t have Haru to bitch at any more, thus, you didn’t have a care in the world. “I’ll be back tomorrow evening,” You say, giving your baby a quick kiss. “You be good for Grandma ok?” You say as she giggles.

Waving bye to her you enter your car once again, you blow kisses before your line of sight is cut off by a closed door. You were silently thankful for your mother-in-law, even if you still didn’t like her. One night to get this shit figured out, one afternoon meeting. You were hellbent on riding yourself of this curse, or die trying. A momentary skip of your heartbeat as you thought of your baby. Would she go down with you? If you played your cards right, Sakura would at the very least be safe from the curse.

You try to speed your way to your destination, but find yourself lost in the maze that is Japan. Looking over and over at your list of directions, you were lucky enough to park with more than enough time to make it to your meeting.

You fix yourself as you hurry towards the building. Professor Ibuki Sato had agreed to meet with you to discuss your current circumstances. Well, alright, he hadn’t agreed to meet you, more like begged. He was a professor of the paranormal at a community college and had been one of your late husband’s most ardent fans. He emailed you days ago, wanting to know what really happened. You didn’t trust him one bit, so you were going to monitor your story as much as you saw fit and gauge his reaction from there. You only wanted help for one thing, and you were going to go to hell and back to get it.

You easily find your way to the professor’s room. You knock lightly, trying to adjust your outfit again. You couldn’t understand why you were so nervous. The door opens and one girl comes out, looking bored and irritated. There was an aura around her that reminded you of the house. It was so strong, you had to take a few steps back. She looks at you curiously, but says nothing as she walks away. You watch her as she leaves.

“Mrs. Kubo!” A loud voice interrupts your rude staring. A disheveled man looks brightly at you. “Come in!” He says, holding the door wide open for you. “Thank you,” You mutter, bowing to him and hurrying in.

“Please, have a seat.” he motions to a chair. You sit, sinking right into its squishiness. It would be comfortable if not for the fact that you were so nervous. Professor Sato sits across from you, a smile flitting across his face. It wasn’t a perverted one at the very least, just a bit awkward. “I’m so sorry about your husband,” he says. You nod, making a non committal noise. “He was a pioneer in the field,” Sato said awkwardly, “I mean he, he-”

“Can we cut to the chase?” You ask gently. The professor looks relieved. “Is the house really haunted?” He asks. “Yes,” You simply say. “But it’s weird.”

“Weird? How? Haven’t you lived in haunted places before.” You snort. “None of them were haunted.” You tell him. Shaking your head, “Not like this anyway. Kayako…” You pause trying to find the right words. “It’s been three months,” You say, exasperated. “Three months and she’s done nothing more than jump scare me by standing behind me when I least expect it.” Sato frowns at your explanation. “She cooks breakfast most mornings, and dinner, she does the dishes. She’s even done the laundry once. She’s always hovering like...like she’s waiting to help or something.” You continue to ramble for nearly ten minutes about all the things she did. Making the bed, arranging shoes neatly by the door, even putting papers in neat, organized piles. Sato listened without interrupting.

“It sounds like she’s in love,” He says blandly. The statement shocks you so bad you physically jump. “Excuse me?”

“Think about it,” Sato says, “Making food, cleaning up around the house, it all sounds like she’s trying to take care of someone she’s in love with.” Your brow furrows, your brain somehow not able to puzzle it out. “Who the hell could she possibly be in love with?” You mutter. Your husband was dead, and the last man she was married to killed her so violently she still haunted the mortal realm. Sato looked at you, highly amused. “You,” He says through a chuckle. “That’s absolute bullshit.” You deadpan. This causes him to throw his head back with laughter. “Is it?”

“Yes!” You say, standing up in indignation, “It is! There’s no way in hell she’s in love with me. She’s dead!”

“In Japan, the dead are thought to be born from high emotions, to feed off them. Hatred and rage are two of the most powerful, but so is love.” Sato explains, “Here, I want to show you something.” Sato moves towards his desk and you follow him. He brings out a journal and hands it to you. “It’s Kayako’s journal,” He says, pride obvious in his voice. You don’t even want to begin to think about how he’d gotten it.

You take the journal but don’t open it. “Well?” Sato says, obviously excited. You grimace. “I don’t think it’s right,” You say, putting the book on the desk. Sato looks at you with confusion. “You said it yourself, she’s dead.”

“Yeah, but you don’t have to live with her ghost.” you mutter. Sato nods in acquiescence. “The journal describes her life from the time she was eight years old to the moment of her death.” Sato explains, taking to book up again. “It serves as the counterpoint that tipped the balance in her disfavor. It seems as though she was obsessed with someone during her lifetime.”

“Obsessed?” You murmur. Sato nods. “She followed him everywhere. Watched him. His name is written all over the pages of her book.” He holds the object in question in the air. “It’s possible that, by some miracle, her curse has changed from vengeance, to one of unrequited love.”

“You’re damn right it’s unrequited! I want her out of my life! She makes me miserable, I don’t-” You stop, gaining control of yourself. “I don’t want my baby to grow up in that damned place,I want her to survive this stupid curse. But I don’t have many options.”

Sato presses his lips together. “I’ll have to do some research.” He tells you honestly. “Can I give you a call?” You huff, running your hands through your hair in frustration. “Fine,” You say, “Fine. You know how to get in touch with me.” You turn on your heel to leave but pause. A familiar flash of black moves across a picture frame. Kayako. Shit. She heard everything, of that, you were sure.

You lived in fear. Any day now Kayako would extract her extreme revenge, you just knew it. You wince at a creak sounding off somewhere in the house. Yes, any moment now Kayako was going to come out of hiding and end your life.

You huff and roll over, hoping she would just do it already. The suspense was making you a nervous wreck. Another creak, another wince. Was it windy outside you wonder? The house is usually as silent as a tomb. Perks of it being haunted you guessed. You groan and flop over on your back. You were getting nowhere. “Kayako?” You called out, for the zillionth time. And for the zillionth time no response.

Two weeks, it had been two weeks since your fight with Kayako. If you could even call it a fight. After your meeting with Sato, you’d come home to a completely wrecked house. Furniture upturned, papers everywhere, pictures on the walls hung askew. You had tried calling for her, and at first, she hadn’t come out. Not until you reached the master bedroom where she had scared the living daylights out of you.

You had yelled at her. Fear had given you the push you needed to voice your opinion. She scared you, and no one could really blame you. She was known for her merciless killings. She was toying with you, and you hated that. You wished she would just get it all over with. But spare you baby, please God spare your baby. With your confessions hanging in the air, she disappeared. You hadn’t seen her since, despite trying to get in touch with her.

Sato seemed unreachable as well. Phones in the house didn’t work, whether it was because of Kayako, you didn’t know. But your computer worked just fine. You’d send him several emails, wondering if he got anywhere, but no response from him. You were worried, but too scared to track him down. What if he died because of your visit? You really didn’t want to find out.

Just as you were about to drift off into a fitful slumber, Kayako’s death rattle started up. You screamed and flung yourself away from the door, off the bed and to the floor. This is it, you think, she’s going to kill me now. Thank God Sakura was with her grandmother for her weekly visit. The door bursts open and Kayako begins to crawl in, her black hair obscuring her face. “Come on,” You whisper, fear rooting yourself to the spot. “Come on, come on, come on,” Tears begin to run down your face. You’ve accepted your fate long ago. You were ready even if you were scared.

You let out another screech as the sound of a cat’s cry meets your left ear. You throw yourself against the night stand. Toshio was sitting in his usual position, crouched with his hands on his knees, mouth wide open. He looked...terrified to you. Not like the empty soul he usually looked like. But genuinely scared. A grating sound rips your attention away from him. You look over the bed, Kayako has stopped moving towards you. She was now moving backwards...no...that’s not right...she was being dragged backwards, her nails digging into the wooden floor, leaving claw marks in their wake. She looked to you, her face also screwed into one of terror. “Kayako?” You breathe, wondering what the hell was going on.

You scream as furniture begins to shake, a great rumbling tears through your home. You’re convinced for one moment that the house is going to rip itself in two. “Kayako?” You yell over the cacophony of it all. Motherly instinct overcomes you, and you drag Toshio to your side, he clings to you as though his life, or lack thereof, depends on it. Kayako continues reaching for you. She’s jerked, once, twice, three times before you spring into action. “Kayako!” You leap over the bed and grab her wrists.

You now know something is wrong from the way she clings back. You play a strange game of tug of war before you’re jerked forward. Your grip on her is so tight you’re dragged right through the doorway before slamming into the hall’s wall. The shocking force of the hit loosens your grip a fraction and Kayako is pulled from you. “No!” You run for her.

Down the stairs you go, stopping only when you get to the living room. Why the hell did everything exciting happen in the living room? “What the ever loving hell are you doing?!” You screech. A figure in the middle of the room turns to you. “This is the only way!” They yell, from the sound of it, they were male. “You don’t have to worry anymore!” He continues, “I know how to really get rid of her, once and for all, there will be no more Kayako!”

“No!” You scream, lunging for him. He easily brushes you off, throwing you to the ground. You watch in horror as the man reaches behind him. Your horror turns to confusion when he brings out what looks to be a small child rather than a weapon. The tiny thing struggles against him, to no avail. “With this sacrifice, Kayako will-” The man doesn’t finish his sentence. Aiming for his knees, you tackle him to the ground. He falls on you with a soft ‘oomph’. Luckily, you were prepared for the inevitable catch and rolled him off with little hardship. You scramble to your feet. Grabbing for the child, you’re met with no resistance as you run off into the house. “Come back here, you bitch!” The man thunders.

You race back to your room, slamming the door behind you. What the fuck? What are you going to do? Somewhere in your panicked brain you shove the child into the closet, hoping Kayako doesn’t pull one of her nasty tricks and kill the poor thing. They cry out, reaching for you, just as scared. You hush them, “You’re ok,” You say, “You’re ok, I won’t let him hurt you. Hush now, hush.” You shut the door to the closet as they fall silent.

Your door rattles as the man rages on the other side. “You bitch! I’ll kill you!” He yelled, throwing himself against it. You look around your room for something to defend yourself with. You had a bat, but for the life of you, you couldn’t remember where you put it. You don’t get the chance to search for it before your door bursts open with a terrifying crunch. The man, half crazed in the moonlight, is huffing, staring at you. “You dog,” He hisses, “You will not stand in the way of my revenge.”

“Why are you in my house?” You cry, legs shaking. “I’m here to kill Kayako!” He yells, “I’m going to end her miserable curse! You aren’t going to stand in my way!” He lunges for you, but misses. Still, he has you cornered in seconds. “I won’t let my daughter’s death be in vain! You won’t stop this!” He grabs for you once more, stumbling over one of Sakura’s toys. This allows you the precious seconds you need to dodge and run back down the stairs.

He roars with rage, hot on your tail. You’re cornered easily once more in the kitchen. You whirl around to meet your attacker. There’s no way you’re going to get out of this alive, you’re sure of it. Maybe this is how the curse works? You think Kayako drives others to do her dirty work then picks the last one off. No, that wasn’t right, not in this instance. Kayako had been scared, Toshio too. This guy was the real deal. “You’re dead!” The man yells, stumbling forward.

His hands wrap around your neck. You flail knocking everything on the counter over. You go down, he goes down on top of you. In the back of your mind, you’re reminded of Haru. Just a few months ago he tried choking you to death too. Kayako had saved you then, she wouldn’t now. A strange sense of calm overcame you, a sense of clarity. This was how you died. Unable to watch your precious daughter grow into a young woman. Unable to watch her fall in love for the first time, to have children of her own…

The man lets you go, slapping you hard. You taste blood in your mouth and spit it out. Your head is still reeling from the smack when his hands close around your neck again. That’s when you see it, a silver glint, a sliver of hope. A terrible rage overcomes you. For months you’ve lived in terror, for months you expected to die, night after night, in the most terrible of ways. You’ve tasted the brink of death more times than you wanted to. You’d had enough quite frankly. Moving automatically, you hand grips the knife, swinging it with all your might you instantly feel the pressure on your neck ease, then disappear altogether. Something warm drips onto your face as the mystery man slumps over, then finally topples off you. You lay there for a moment, taking in deep breaths of precious air.

You close your eyes for a moment or two, trying to come to terms with what just happened. The rumbling of the house settles, things fall silent once more. You only open your eyes when you feel something brush against your face. This time, when you meet Kayako’s eyes you don’t flinch. She looks concerned, for what? You? You cough, spitting out more blood. Kayako rattles softly, touching your face. “I’m fine,” You croak, “I’m ok.” You sit up gingerly.

Coldness overtakes you as Kayako presses herself behind you, her hands rest on your shoulders. When you don’t push her away she takes it as an invitation to get closer to you, wrapping you up in her arms, resting her cheek on your shoulder. You smile, running your fingers over her soft skin. You smile, because for the first time in a long time, you felt alive. And baby, it felt good to be alive.

#the grudge #ju-on #kayako imagine #kayako x reader #infamous

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gingus-arts · 4 years

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AH YES ANOTHER ONE OF THESE!!! with my thoughts again ajdjsj- this is one of my favourite ships so i had to

tIME FOR ANOTHER SHIP "ESSAY." this time on keishima >:) again, the heights r just what i found on the wiki (i think it's cool that mishima is taller than keiji, his height fits him) and their sexualities & ages are a mix of what i've seen and what i think fits. which is to say, i saw this neat fanart of mishima being gay sjdhfns. generally i think they go together really well so let's start!

1. big spoon vs. little spoon — i just think keiji would want to be the big spoon asjhfshfn. mishima wouldn't be too set on either but he'd default to being the little spoon most of the time just cos keiji likes to be the opposite

2. lends clothes vs. borrows clothes — i think it'd be harder for mishima to lend keiji clothes with keiji being such a Beefy Boi, but he'd be totally okay lending whatever would fit him, generally stuff like ties and other accessories. i could also see mishima borrowing clothes once in a while, like if he forgot to do laundry and needed a dress shirt for work (it's not ideal because it'd be a bit baggy, but it's better than nothing) or if he wanted something comfortable to wear at home. he'd probably always ask keiji before he borrows things despite keiji saying that he doesn't need to, and he starts asking less as they're together longer (since he doesn't do it often anyway)

3. doesn't use pet names vs. uses pet names — mishima just doesn't seem like one for nicknames or pet names KFJSJDN. keiji absolutely does though— i think keiji would be more likely to flirt overtly in general so it just makes sense that he'd use pet names more. he'd probably stuff like "babe" a lot lol. but also, mishima would use an occasional "my love" whenever he's feeling lovey dovey (also this bouta sound hella cheesy but the way he says keiji's name sometimes is a term of endearment in itself)

4. extroverted vs. introverted — i think keiji would be kind of extroverted in the sense that he likes being around people (even if he's not particularly talkative, he can hold a conversation decently) and would prefer that to being alone, mostly because being around other people makes it easier to distract himself from his thoughts. i don't think he'd be drained by social situations either, but moreso envigorated by them (most of the time, anyway). that last part goes for mishima too! i think mishima would be significantly more extroverted than keiji just cos he seems extremely open to talking with everyone and seems to connect easily with them (and, he also seems more likely to persuade or push people into conversation than keiji is) though mishima is comfortable with having time alone too.

5. affection thru words vs. affection thru actions — i think keiji would generally have a hard time getting out affectionate words, so he just settles for doing small things like getting mishima food when he's @ work and kissing him or putting his arm around him. i think mishima would say really sweet stuff to keiji sometimes (though it's often more subtle & poetic than a straight up "i love you") and also compliment him often, so he'd be pretty comfortable voicing his affections, though he also does stuff with his actions.

6. confesses first vs. waits for confession — mishima just has a lot more confidence and self-esteem than keiji so i think he'd feel more comfortable opening himself up to rejection,,, though he would get the same nervousness about it that everyone gets. keiji distanced himself from even the possibility of being /friends/ with mishima, there's no way he'd think mishima would want to handle the burden of being his s/o, and it's possible he would just flat out deny that mishima likes him even if it's really obvious, if mishima doesn't say it upfront. so, he wouldn't even be waiting for a confession, he'd just try to get rid of his feelings (he'd probably feel somewhat guilty for "spoiling" their friendship with his feelings.) there is a small, small chance he'd tell mishima in a very unceremonious, way too casual sort of way, but this would definitely be an impulsive decision and he'd decide against doing it if he didn't blurt out in the minute he considered it (if that makes sense)

7. screams about bugs vs. squashes bugs with shoe — i just think it'd be funny if mishima was afraid of bugs LOL, tho i think it'd be more accurate to say that he's intrigued by bugs as a knowledgeable person (fr he just seems like he'd know a bunch of random ass information about a shit load of things) but likes to keep his distance from them. even though he's unnerved when they get too close to him, though, he makes an effort to not kill them. keiji does not care lol he'll just squash

8. drives the car vs. can't drive lol — i don't think keiji would necessarily be a bad driver, but i don't think he'd be good at it for one main reason– anxiety, or specifically, ptsd. the loud noises that sometimes come with driving, honking horns, the sharp rush of air and tires on gravel when a car passes you by, i think, could get overwhelming if he was in a relatively busy area. i don't think he'd be too good at concentrating either, he seems like he'd be somewhat prone to zoning out. mishima would Definitely be better at concentrating at keiji, and even if he zones out a bit, he's driven more than keiji (assuming,, he drives 2 work) and isn't bothered by loud noises. i don't think keiji would be too keen on admitting his problems with driving but mishima would probably pick up on it after it then call keiji out on it, /then/ he'd insist on driving most of the time.

9. can't cook for shit vs. makes dinner — i Actually Have a specific cooking hc for keiji which is that he can cook pretty basic things just fine, but he doesn't really feel the need to cook for himself so he barely cooks. like, if he was living alone, he'd probably live off of fast food and microwave meals KDJSJDN. now, if he was living with mishima- i think he'd moreso let mishima take care of the cooking, considering that mishima is Actually Good At It, but would offer help getting ingredients out or anything else mishima might need. if he wants to surprise mishima or give him a break from cooking, he'll order something to eat instead of cooking bc 1) his cooking ranges from mediocre to kinda bad and 2) he knows how to cook like 4 meals tops and 3) he doesn't want to embarrass himself lol (tho he won't admit that he doesn't want to..) mishima may coax him into at some point, though, and in that case, he'd try it out.

10. dislikes pda vs. loves pda — i think mishima would like to stay professional & within social norms in public, but he wouldn't be opposed to holding hands or a kiss on the cheek. keiji, on the other hand, has Less Shame and would nearly make out with mishima if he let him lmao- i think keiji would like teasing mishima with pda to some extent

11. overprotective vs. chill going — overall i think they'd both be pretty protective over each other! mishima seems like a protective person in general, (presumably that kinda comes with how nurturing he is) so i think that'd go doubly for his boyfriend with mental health problems up the wazoo who DOES NOT TAKE CARE OF HIMSELF NEARLY ENOUGH.... i think keiji might get annoyed with mishima's overprotectiveness but mishima stands firm in it and keiji eventually comes to recognize it less as a lack of trust & babying him, and more as a sign that mishima cares about him (and occasionally, is concerned about him.) i also think keiji would be protective over mishima, just as a base level of people he cares about, but less so than mishima is over him because mishima's pretty well adjusted and generally doesn't need protection from anything (except bugs maybe, lol)

12. has more relationship experience vs. has NO relationship experience — ok so,, i'm a little conflicted on my takes here, because if i was going with canon, it wouldn't make sense that mishima is gay because he was skeptical of kugie's same sex relationship, /unless/ he hadn't figured out his sexuality yet, which is not entirely implausible (or, if it's the internalized homophobia hittin-) i still want to headcannon him as gay so imma go with those explanations. however, if that's the case, it doesn't make sense to have him date any younger than he is now– unless, he had a serious case of comp het, which is also plausible. that may have helped him understand how relationships work, but they wouldn't be truly fulfilling if he's gay. if we're taking the relationship experience to be inclusive of platonic relationships, though, mishima would definitely have more experience than keiji. and whether we're talking platonic or romantic with keiji, i don't think he'd have very much AJDHDJ. i think he'd have like 2 or 3 girlfriends when he was younger, but nothing serious, and i don't think he'd have any really strong friendships either, in school i think it'd mostly just be the type of friends that u don't rly hang around with too often after school & then you kinda just don't see them afterwards, and in adult life it'd be coworkers, so like,, even less of a purely friendship thing. i think not having a support system would really jack him up when the trauma hit bUT i'm getting off topic so let's move on!

13. HORNY LEVEL — keiji is a horny fool don't @ me, mishima is a functional level of horniness

14. AWKWARDNESS LEVEL — so, if this was general awkwardness levels, i'd put keiji's a lot lower and mishima's a bit higher-- HOWEVER. i'm taking this 2 mean their awkwardness levels in the context of a relationship and that's why they are what they are. i would think keiji is pretty awkward in romance due to his constant deflection and tendency to distance himself– mishima would be better suited to it but A Bit Unsure either because he hasn't had relationships before or he hasn't had relationships with men before. figuring out gey things. ah but yeah i dunno, i didn't come to a conclusion in my previous rant on this :')

15. JEALOUSY LEVEL — i think keiji would b jealous mostly because he's insecure and feels like he's not enough for mishima. he wouldn't voice it and would just try to get over it, though mishima would probably notice him pouting or being a little distant. mishima, on the other hand, is quite secure in himself, and even when he isn't, i don't think he would feel particularly jealous. i feel like he'd be really happy when keiji gets close 2 other people and makes friends and stuff because that'd be good for him.

#your turn to die #yttd mishima #yttd keiji #keishima #keimishi #yttd kazumi #kimi ga shine #ship chart #oop i finished this a couple of hours ago but i forgot to post it

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where-dreamers-go · 5 years

Text

“Part 2 - Protecting The Document” Riley Poole x Reader

(A/N: Requested. And we’re back with a continuation of the Riley Poole x Reader series! After finding The Charlotte, it’s time to convince others that the Declaration of Independence is in danger. Team up with your friends Ben Gates and Riley Poole for more adventure.

Check out Part One.

Word Count: 8,580)

Washington D.C. — J. Edgar Hoover FBI Building

“Man….I’m still sweating from being in there.” You said, pulling at your clothes.

“Well, you said that you didn’t want to be sitting in the van alone because you’d look suspicious,” Ben reasoned as the three of you walked out of the government building.

“I know. I know.”

“Relax. You haven’t done anything. Besides, you have the most innocent face between the three of us.”

“Hey,” Riley whined as the three of you walked outside.

Equally spaced trees lined the sidewalks ahead of you. Heading back towards the van the three of you were a little put off by multiple visits to government buildings. The cold and concrete that gave off the essence of aloof.

“Is it really so hard to believe that someone’s gonna try to steal the Declaration of Independence?” Riley asked, peeved.

“The FBI gets ten thousands of tips a week. They’re not gonna worry about something they’re sure is safe.” Ben answered, hands shoved into his jean pockets.

“But anyone that can do anything is gonna think we’re crazy.” Riley stopped before reaching the street. “Anyone crazy enough to believe us isn’t gonna want to help.”

“We don’t need someone crazy. But one step short of crazy, what do you get?” Ben asked, turning to the two of you.

Riley laughed, “obsessed.”

“Passionate.” Ben corrected and turned back to go to the van.

“So…,” you glanced over at Riley, “we have to find someone who loves the Declaration?”

“Obsessively.” Riley murmured.

. . .

National Archives waiting room.

Quiet halls and cushioned chairs. It was like waiting in a dentist’s office for your name to be called. The three of you sat in identical wooden chairs, lined up in front of a wall; although yours was beside an end table. It was hopefully the last stop for the day. You did have work to do to bring in the money somehow. That day just happened to be dedicated to an immensely important document.

“Excuse me.” Ben reached across Riley to pick up a black and blue pamphlet off of the receptionist’s desk.

70TH NATIONAL ARCHIVES ANNIVERSARY GALA

Ben opened the bifold to find it was an invitation. Details were scripted in smaller font.

Huh, you thought, my friend from (school) invited me there.

The door in front of all of you opened, the assistant peeked out.

“Doctor Chase can see you now, Mister Brown.”

“Thank you.” Ben said, raising from his chair.

“Mister Brown?” Riley asked in a hushed tone.

Ben leaned in closer to whisper, “The family name doesn’t get a lot of respect in the academic community.”

“Huh. Being kept down by the man.”

The men walked passed the dark wooden door before you.

“A very cute man.” Riley stopped abruptly.

You peeked between your friends.

That is most definitely not a man, you thought.

The three of you stood in front of a large desk, already on routine as you were all acknowledged.

“Thank you.” The blonde woman hung up the telephone. Presumably, Doctor Chase.

Well, this is going to be fun, you thought, watching as your friends stood straighter.

“Good afternoon, gentlemen,” she greeted. “And good afternoon.” She repeated as you moved over to Riley’s right hand side as you were given an extra chair to place beside the pair in front of the desk.

You smiled.

“Hi.” Riley half-bowed.

“Abigail Chase.” She reached over to shake hands with Ben.

“Paul Brown.” Ben introduced himself as. All the while Riley watched, a bit on his toes.

“Nice to meet you.”

She then shook hands with Riley.

“Bill,” Riley fumbled, barely.

“Nice to meet you, Bill.” Doctor Chase said formally before turning her attention to you.

“(Random name),” you said, shaking her hand.

“Nice to meet you, (Random name).” She returned her gaze to Ben. “How may I help you?”

Ben immediately pointed at her and stated, “Your accent. Pennsylvania Dutch?”

“Saxony German.”

“You’re not American?” Riley asked, eyebrows pinched together.

“Oh, I am an American.” She said, walking back to her chair. “I just wasn’t born here. Please don’t touch that!”

You spun around to see Ben’s fingers already a hair’s width away from a small display.

Dude, really? Tell me you didn’t. He always has to touch, you thought.

“Sorry. A neat collection. George Washington’s campaign buttons.” Ben pointed at the two rows of about a quarter sized buttons. “You’re missing the 1789 inaugural, though. I found one once.”

Doctor Chase nodded with a soft smile. Impressed, perhaps.

“That’s very fortunate for you. Now, you told my assistant that this was an urgent matter.”

“Yes, ma’am.” Ben followed suit as all of you took your seats. “Well, I’m gonna get straight to the point. Someone’s gonna steal the Declaration of Independence.”

She did not say a word in response. Finally looking to Riley for any other explanation.

There was a long moment of silence before Riley spoke up, “It’s true.”

Doctor Chase looked down.

“I think I’d better put you gentlemen in touch with the FBI.” She said.

“We’ve been to the FBI.” Ben quickly added.

“And?”

“They assured us that the Declaration cannot possibly be stolen.” Riley answered tiredly.

“They’re right.”

“My friends and I are less certain.” Ben countered. “However, if we were given the privilege of examining the document…”

Doctor Chase gave him a look to which he challenged with one of his own.

Here we go, you thought as you leaned against the arm of the chair.

Ben continued, “we would be able to tell you for certain if it were actually in any danger.”

She leaned back in a stance that read: humor me.

“What do you think you’re gonna find?” She asked.

You held your breath.

“We believe that there’s an…encryption on the back.” Ben nodded, satisfied with his word use.

“An encryption, like a code?” She glanced between the three of you.

“Yes, ma’am.”

“Of what?”

“A…cartograph.”

“A map.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

“A map of what?”

Riley adjusted his jacket as he put his head down. You on the other hand, tried not to move a muscle.

Ben had definitely met his match with this one.

“The location of…,” Ben cleared his throat, “…of hidden items of historic and intrinsic value.”

Doctor Chase was leaning over her desk at that point and glanced up.

“A treasure map?”

“That’s where we lost the FBI.” Riley smiled, finally looking up again.

“You’re treasure-hunters, aren’t you?” She looked between the three of you with narrowed eyes.

You and Riley turned towards Ben as you both shifted in your seats.

Flippin’ explain, Ben, you thought.

“We’re more like treasure-protectors.” Ben corrected to the best of his ability to scramble the last stitch effort.

“Mr. Brown, I have personally seen the back of the Declaration of Independence, and I promise you, the only thing there is a notation that reads, ‘Original Declaration of Independence, dated’…”

“‘Four of July, 1776.’ Yes, ma’am.”

She smiled and said, “but no map.”

You could sense as Ben fully looked over at you and Riley. The pair of you refused to meet his gaze. You were more than positive that the two of you were mentally chanting for Ben not to say what you knew was coming next.

Exhaling, Ben still remained silent for a few more precious moments before opening his mouth again.

“It’s invisible.”

“Oh. Right.” Doctor Chase whispered.

You outwardly cringed.

She thinks we’re nuts, you thought, wanting nothing more than to go home.

The lady asked many questions and had an arsenal of sass.

“And that’s where we lost the Department of Homeland Security.” Riley sighed, his gaze at his feet.

There was more uncomfortable silence in the room as three people clung onto hope.

“What led you to assure there’s this invisible map?” She asked.

“We found an engraving on the stem of a 200-year old pipe.”

“Owned by Freemasons.” Riley piped up.

“May I see the pipe?”

“We don’t have it.”

She leaned in closer and asked in a hushed tone, “did Big Foot take it?”

OKAY, you thought, done.

“It was nice meeting you.” Ben stated as he stood from the chair.

Doctor Chase eyed your best friend with humor and interest.

“Nice to meet you, too.” She said.

You quickly rose out of your own seat, ready to leave.

“And, you know,” Ben said, gesturing to the Washington buttons. “That really is a nice collection. Must have taken you a long time to hunt down all that history.”

She smiled once more and the three of you left her office with as much dignity as ones could muster after failing to have one person believe your story.

Ben lead the way out and soon into the large open area where historical documents were on display. Visitors walked and stood around in their own worlds. Their conversations were white noise.

Would anyone believe any of you? Just one?

Sighing, you walked alongside Riley, shoes almost shuffling across the reflective floor.

“If it’s any consolation, you had me convinced,” Riley said to Ben.

“It’s not.” Ben answered from two paces ahead.

“I was thinking, what if we go public, paster the story all over the Internet? It’s not like we have our reputations to worry about. Although I don’t think that’s exactly gonna scare Ian away.”

“But at least people would know.” You stated.

Three of you stood in front of a glass case, gazing down at the one thing that needed protecting and could lead the three of you to the next clue to the Templar’s treasure. Light shining around it for easy viewing.

“183 years of searching, and I’m three feet away,” Ben sighed and looked to the pair of you. “Of all the words written here about freedom, there’s a line here that’s at the heart of all the others.” He looked down to read, “‘But when a long train of abuses and usurpations, pursuing invariably the same object, evinces a design to reduce them under absolute despotism, it is their right, it is their duty to throw off such government and provide new guards for their future security.’ People don’t talk that way any more.”

“Beautiful, huh.” Riley murmured with crossed arms. “No idea what you said.”

“It means, if there’s something wrong, those who have the ability to take action have the responsibility to take action.”

Quiet filled the space between friends, history spoke loud enough to be heard by those willing, and thoughts were fixed.

Ben exhaled.

“I’m gonna steal it.”

“What?” You and Riley asked in the same moment.

“I’m gonna steal the Declaration of Independence.”

Ben walked off in long strides as Riley laughed before seeing that Ben was still moving forward.

You and Riley quickly exchanged looks of growing horror.

“Ben?” Riley called after his friend.

The two of you fast-walked across the floor and passed everyday visitors with growing anxieties.

. . .

Steps of the Lincoln Memorial.

With a heavy heart, you sat beside Riley on the hard concrete steps. Figuring out that your shared best friend wanted to steal and have it be the Declaration of Independence was not easy to digest.

Ben stood before the two of you with his idea stubbornly set, the Washington Monument as his backdrop.

“This is…huge.” Riley stated from your right, hands together. “It’s prison huge. You are gonna go to prison, you know that?”

“Yeah, probably.” Ben said with hands on his hips and accepting his fate.

“So that would bother most people.”

“It sure as heck bothers me,” you spoke. “Why risk it?”

“Ian’s gonna try and steal it. And if he succeeds, he’ll destroy the Declaration.” Ben reasoned. “The fact is, the only way to protect the Declaration is to steal it.”

You stared off into the distance. Bright blue skies and few white clouds made for a beautiful day. Beautiful and a recklessly tiring day. You didn’t even know what to do with your hands at that point, wanting to curl up in a chair or hit your head against a wall. You had options.

“It’s upside down.” Ben sat down on Riley’s right, “I don’t think there’s a choice.”

“Heh, Ben,” Riley stood up with gesturing hands, “for God’s stakes, it’s like stealing a national monument. Okay?” He had pointed across the reflective water. “It’s like stealing him.” He gestured behind Ben to where Lincoln’s statue sat. “It can’t be done. Not shouldn’t be done. It can’t be done. Let me prove it to you.”

You looked to Riley and said, “I’ll buy you dinner for a week if you do.”

Ben made a noise in his throat.

. . .

Library of Congress

Tall curved ceiling, circular room, and reading material for eons.

Each of you had gathered more than a handful volumes, which took longer than your feet would have liked. Pouring over and through various pages, arguments were being built silently. Having found an unoccupied area, the three of you had been scanning and reading for more than an hour.

You and Ben sat opposite Riley, who had since placed his glasses on as he stood. Ready to prove his point with a blue pen in hand, he meant business.

You sighed quietly to yourself as you rested your chin on your hands, ready to listen.

Have his eyes always been that blue?

Ben nudged you under the table before giving you a knowing look as you glanced over at him.

You retracted, shifting your eyes because there were multiple possible reasons for that look. Grumbling, you flipped back a page in one of the volumes that sat beside your elbow.

“Okay, Ben, pay attention,” Riley whispered. “I’ve brought you to the Library of Congress. Why? Because it’s the biggest library in the world. Over twenty million books. And they’re all saying the same exact thing: listen to Riley.”

Ben sat quietly as his friend annunciated each word.

“What we have here, my friend is an entire layout of the archives. Short of builders’ blueprints. You’ve got construction orders, phone lines, water and sewage—it’s all here.” Riley lifted up documents as he named them. “Now, when the Declaration is on display, okay, it is surrounded by guards and video monitors and a little family from Iowa and little kids on their eighth grade field trip. And beneath an inch of bulletproof glass is an army of sensors and heat monitors that will go off if someone gets too close with a high fever.”

The sensors would definitely be problematic, you thought.

“Now,” he flipped the page, “when it’s not on display, it is lowered into a four-foot-thick concrete, steel-plated vault…that happens to be equipped with an electronic combination lock and biometric access-denial systems.” Riley stood straight, satisfied with his argument.

“You know, Thomas Edison tried and failed nearly two thousand times to develop the carbonized cotton-thread filament for the incandescent light bulb.” Ben spoke calmly.

Here we go, you thought.

“Edison?” Riley asked quietly.

“When asked about it, he said, ‘I didn’t fail, I found out two thousand ways how not to make a light bulb.’ But he only needed to find one way to make it work.” Ben handed over a book with a small thump. “The Preservation Room. Enjoy. Go ahead.”

Ben intertwined his hands together, eyebrows raised in waiting.

Riley gingerly took the book and sat down to have a look.

“Do you know what the Preservation Room is for?” Ben asked.

“Delicious jams and jellies?”

You smiled as Riley peered up for a moment.

“No. That’s where they clean, repair and maintain all the documents and the storage housings when they’re not on display or in the vault. Now, when the case needs work they take it out of the vault, directly across the hall and into the Preservation Room. The best time for us, or Ian, to steal it would be during the gala this weekend when the guards are distracted by the VIPs upstairs. But we’ll make our way to the Preservation Room, where there’s much less security.”

Ben rested back with a hand covering his growing smile.

The Gala? You thought as you lowered your arms onto the table, looking between your friends.

“Huh….Well, if Ian..” Riley flipped a page in the book. “Preservation…hmmm…The gala, huh? This might be possible.”

“It might.” He nodded.

“Oh, boy.” You sighed.

“Mmm, no dinner,” Riley mumbled.

“Nope. Not even a piece of gum.”

. . .

The three of you had about a week worth of preparation in about a day. There was a lot of detail work to be completed ahead of time, however the group of you were managing well.

A day after leaving the Library of Congress and you all had your work cut out for you.

Riley was out in the subway working his electronic magic to give him eyes into the National Archives’ security feed. Needing to gain a recording of an empty Preservation room and its hallway that lead into it. Couldn’t let Ben be seen. Riley would be the eyes overseeing it all.

Earlier, Ben had advised you to call the old friend of yours from school who had invited you to the Gala prior to going to the Arctic Circle. Ben needed you for backup and as a lookout while out on the VIP floor. It would be easier for you to already have guest access regardless of the amount of security.

“Ben, I’m not the kind of person to ask…to…to be a tag along. They like that I don’t do that. I like it too and I’m not getting someone else involved with illegal activity.”

“They won’t be involved,” he said. “They probably still want to spend time with you. They know you love history. Right?”

“Yeah.”

“And they had already invited you over a month ago, right?”

“Darn you.” You said with a deadpanned expression.

He smiled.

You grabbed your phone and headed out to your own apartment down the hall.

Your stomach twisted at the thought of what you were doing.

“Darn it.” You called your friend as you sat onto the couch.

The entire phone call consisted of letting them know you were back in town, asking how they were, and if they still needed company to the Gala. It was extremely last minute, you knew and expressed as much. Luck on your side, they were more than happy that you could join them. No one else was free that night as it turned out.

After the call, you texted a quick message to Ben and Riley, how you were a plus one at the Gala.

Tossing your phone onto the couch, you walked to your room. It was time to take out your formal wear after all. That would be the easiest part of your day. Grabbing supplies and materials to bring over to Ben’s apartment to set up where you all would examine the Declaration without contaminating it was next. List in hand, you just had to find what you already had and buy the rest. Thankfully, out of the three of you most of the supplies did not have to be bought.

Late into the afternoon, Ben organized papers of information he already knew he needed. Scans of the Silence Dogood Letters sat comfortably in a folder. Book opened and microwave meal heated, Ben was reading up on the Declaration’s encasement. He was in charge of getting it out safely.

You stood on furniture as you secured plastic sheets to the ceiling. It was then that you sort of wished that the ceilings were a tad lower.

After eating, Ben went out to grab some photos of the custodial services ID card at the National Archives building. He was not away long, soon he had returned and was using Adobe Photoshop to create his own ID. All the while you were trying to keep the multiple plastic sheets from overlapping too much. Sometimes one just had to be off angled instead of hanging straight down to the floor. At least Riley had a good laugh at your minor complaints while he brought in the EDS suits and air filtration system.

Over at Ben’s apartment, again, you were setting up the final touches.

“I’ve been in the art club. I’ve been in FBLA. I got this.” You said, giving yourself a proper pep talk. “Plus I’m a perfectionist…”

“That’s not a bad thing.” Ben said as he wrote a note to accompany the campaign button.

“Oh and this is my vacuum cleaner not yours. So don’t even think about it.”

A desk sat surrounded by plastic sheets, each sheet clipped together at their seams that reached to the ceiling. Admittedly, you had to go out and buy more clips. You kept the table lamp still on the desk. Riley had shown up earlier to help set up the two large lights above the setup to see everything and anything clearly. A handheld blue light and all of the liquid treatments you all might need alongside extra glasses cluttered half of the desk.

By nightfall, Ben was cleaning the Washington’s campaign buttons and testing how to reveal prints. All the while he allowed you to raid his snacks. You deserved it.

It was very nice of him to gift Doctor Chase with the last button she needed, but also something more as what was planned for the Gala.

“Hey, don’t touch anything on that table until tomorrow. Got it?”

“Will do,” Ben said, giving you a quick hug before you left.

All that there was left to do was get ready for the next day. The day of the Gala when the three of you started your plans. Setting off the heat sensors around the Declaration of Independence was first.

. . .

The skies were dark and the gala indoors was bright as day.

As of more than two hours, you were already with your friend, the one who invited you to the gala. You thought the red carpet leading up the stairs was a bit much, however you at least enjoyed your time with your friend. Enjoying one another’s company without needing to spend every second talking. There were a lot of attendees and donors dressed in their finest. If it hadn’t been for the plan, you probably would had liked attending a decorative gala.

You had an earpiece in one ear to hear both Ben and Riley. You had thought against it with the microphone, however the three of you realized that you really needed to know what was happening and when to leave. So an earpiece you had.

Avoiding Doctor Chase the entirety you were present was a dance in stealth. She knew you by a fake name, your friend who brought you as a guest knew who you really were. You wanted to avoid any mishaps and awkwardness at all costs. That was one of your main priorities along side keeping an eye out for trouble and being the closest one that could help Ben if he needed.

As with most parties, you were introduced to people. This time you vaguely remembered names. Your mind and attention was elsewhere. Although you hoped that you would not need to remember their entire names for the future.

Era themed costumes of the orchestra were a highlight. They played beautifully, the overhead lights shining over them. You stood beside a table draped in white cloth as your friend sipped at their beverage.

Spotting movement in your peripheral vision, you peered over. Ben entered at the opposite end of the room with two tall glasses in hand as he made his way further in.

You turned on your earpiece.

Ben walked towards Doctor Chase with his head held high.

“Is (Y/N) there?” Came Riley’s voice.

“Yeah,” Ben peered over at you from across the groups of mingling people, seeing as you put a hand behind you back—a signal. “Their earpiece is definitely on.”

“Who’s with them?”

Ben cleared his throat as he reached Doctor Chase.

“For you.”

“Oh, Mister Brown.” She said.

“Doctor Chase.”

“What are you doing here?”

“Is that that hot girl?” Riley’s voice cut in. “How does she look?”

It took a second, but you stopped yourself from making a side comment. There was no need to have your generous friend asking why you were talking to yourself. It was not the time for that. Although it wasn’t time for Riley to be asking those sort of questions either.

“I made a last-minute donation. A big one,” Ben continued.

“Well, on that subject,” Doctor Chase added, “thank you for your wonderful gift.”

“Oh, you did get it? Good.”

“Yes, thank you. You know, I really couldn’t accept something like that normally, but…I really want it.”

“Well, you needed it.”

“Come on, Romeo,” Riley piped up, “get outta there.”

Your friend beside you was whispering something about some man’s tie as you were peeking over at Ben and Doctor Chase. Riley was right, Ben needed to get-a-steppin’.

“I have been wondering, though,” Doctor Chase said, “what the engraving indicated on the pipe that Big Foot took.”

Are they flirting? You thought, as your friend introduced you to a pair of smiling donors.

“Hi.” Another man’s voice came into your ear, “Here you go.”

“Oh, Doctor Herbert,” Chase spoke, “this is Mister Brown.”

“Hi,” said the taller man also approaching Doctor Chase with two glasses.

“Hi there.” Ben greeted shortly.

“Who’s the stiff?” Riley asked suddenly.

You snickered. Earning a raised eyebrow from the people around you, you waved it off with a shake of your head and a cough.

“Here, why don’t you let me take that?” Ben asked as he delicately took ahold of the glass’ base from the lady, “So you can take that off his hands.”

“Thank you.”

“A toast, yeah? To high treason,” Ben declared. “That’s what these men were committing when they signed the Declarations. Had we lost the war, they would have been hanged, beheaded, drawn and quartered, and—Oh! Oh, my personal favorite—and had their entrails cuts out and burned!”

There he is, you thought. Perhaps a little much. Just a little.

You fully turned to see Ben for yourself. He indeed had his glass held high between a lady and gentleman. Ben then continued.

“So, here’s to the men who did what was considered wrong in order to do what they knew was right.” He nodded. “What they knew was right.”

In roughly three seconds he downed his drink.

You could sense his anxiety from where you stood. None of you knew how the night would turn out. Saving and protecting the Declaration from Ian was top priority. What happened to the three of you was up in the air.

“Well, good night.”

“Good night.”

In quick strides, Ben had finally left the party with the two glasses. Only one was needed. Ben went onwards to the next stage of the plan. Out of sight.

You hoped that the men’s restroom was unoccupied given the science experiment he was about to conduct.

“This better work.” Riley said.

Ben was alone. Any news from him would be given as it developed, hopefully. Extracting Doctor Chase’s fingerprints was vital to getting anywhere near the Declaration. To saving it. Stealing it.

As a waiter passed, your friend offered you a drink again, but you declined. You wanted a clear head even though your worry was increasing. You planned on drinking plenty of water when you got back to the apartment.

“How does it look?” Riley asked.

“It’s working. It’s working…” Ben answered in a hushed tone.

Thank goodness, you turned your gaze back to the musicians.

“Unbelievable.” Riley muttered.

The musicians struck up another song while you were waiting as Ben was undoubtedly making his way out of the restroom. He was following each step perfectly, as expected. There was some sort of sliding mechanics that sounded in your ear, but not much after that.

“We’re in the elevator.” Ben said.

You breathed a sigh of relief. Your friend offered you a strange-looking appetizer but you graciously declined. They only laughed.

“Okay. I’m gonna turn off the surveillance cameras. Ready?” Riley’s voice kept you both constantly updated. “In five, four, three…Now.”

You bit your lip, eyes downcast to the waxed floor.

“Ben Gates,” Riley announced, “you are now the Invisible Man.”

Hearing your best friends’ voices in one ear and a party-gathering in the other was definitely a way to spend your night. Thankfully, you did not mind…half of it anyway.

“I’m here.” Ben’s voice announced.

“Give me the letters for her password. What do yah got for me?” Riley asked. “Hit me with it.”

“A-E-F-G…L-O-R-V-Y.”

“Anagrams being listed. Okay. Top results: ‘A glove fry’. ‘A very golf’. ‘Fargo levy’. ‘Gravy floe’. ‘Valey frog’. Also ‘Ago fly rev’. ‘Grove fly a’. ‘Are fly gov’. ‘Era fly gov’. ‘Elf gov ray’.”

“It’s ‘Valley Forge’.”

“‘Valley For…’. I don’t have that on my computer.”

“It’s ‘Valley Forge’—she pressed the E and L twice.”

Well, I’ll be darn, you thought as you shifted your weight onto your other leg. You were more than a little antsy, but at least you weren’t hounded with conversations.

Door movement sounded in your ear.

“We’re in.”

“Hello.”

You could only imagine what Riley was seeing on his computer through the security cameras let alone what Ben was seeing in person. Breathing a sigh of relief, you knew that at least things were going perfectly according to plan.

“Ben you’re doing great,” Riley said.

Your fingers fidgeted against the table cloth.

That’s a lot of bolts screwed in, you thought as one of your ears was filled with the noise of a small power tool.

“Ben, pick it up. You got about one—”

You frowned.

“I lost my feed.”

“What?”

“I lost my feed, Ben. I don’t know where anyone is. I-I have nothing. Ben, I have no—Ben, I have nothing. Get out of there. Get out of there now.”

The room seemed to grow intensely warm and your hands became uncomfortably clammy. You needed to go. You needed to leave.

“I’m taking the whole thing. I’ll get it out in the elevator.”

“What are you talking—? Is it heavy?” Riley asked.

Scrambling to grab your phone out of your hidden pocket was proving a bit difficult. Hands shaking, you were doing your best to keep your breathing in check.

Deep breathes, you thought even as you felt your friend’s eyes on you. Taking out your phone, you looked at it, not giving them a chance to see it. Staring at the small screen, you waited a few seconds as you pretended to read.

Zip bing bing

Zip bing

Sounds of glass shattering made you jump. It didn’t sound right.

“Is everything alright?” Your friend asked.

You nodded, “I have to go. My family needs me.”

“What was that?” Riley’s voice asked in your ear. He could not see what was happening around Ben.

“I have to go. My (family member) is calling me again for technical support.” You rambled out quickly.

Bizz zing

“Who’s shooting?” Riley asked through the earpiece.

Bizzing bizzink

“Are you still there? Ben?”

“I’m in the elevator. Ian’s here. There was, uh, shooting.”

“I hate that guy.”

You breathed and said to your concerned friend in front of you at the table, “They were calling when I was getting ready. They expect me to see what’s on screen. I’m so sorry.”

“No, no. It’s fine.” They said, watching as you stepped away from them.

“Thank you again for inviting me.” You shoved the phone in your pocket and consciously kept your pace even.

“Of course.” Their voice trailed behind you.

Once you were out of the main room, you took quick strides to where you had entered. Eyes trained forward. There would be no distractions nor obstacles. You were leaving with a lot of cardio exercise.

Your heart soared as you exited the doors and were greeted with the crisp night air. It helped after using stairs. Going down the steps in seconds, you made your way around the building. Shoes padding along to the rapid beat of your heart.

Finally at the back of the building near the employee entrance, you focused your sights on the familiar apple colored van. Sanctuary. You did not have to keep a slow or steady pace while outside. No one else was around.

“Riley!” You called out as you finished crossing the empty street. “Open up,” you hit the back doors.

A door swung open, Riley’s relieved and anxious face greeting you.

“You’re good? You heard everything?”

“Yeah,” you hopped inside and closed the door behind you.

“Ben needs to get out of there,” Riley said going into the front seat, headset still on.

“I know. Freakin’ Ian.”

Immediately, you spotted an extra pair of shoes and socks you had given Riley to hold on for you. They weren’t difficult to spot on the shelving of the van, everything else was tech. You proceeded to change shoes.

After removing your earpiece and placing it amongst Riley’s belongings, you stood between the two front seats. You leaned on the driver’s chair as you looked out the window.

“Thank you for bringing my shoes.”

“Sure.” Riley looked up at you, “Uh, have you worn that before? You haven’t worn that before.”

“I don’t exactly wear formal wear around the apartment, Riley.”

“It’s nice. You look…you look nice.”

“Thank you.”

Both of you were looking out the windows then. Waiting for your best friend to exit the building safely.

“Where do you think Ian is?” You asked.

“Don’t know. Ben just better hurry up.”

“Yeah.” You did you best to try to reign back and calm your breathing. “Everything’s going to be fine. Everything’s going to be fine.” You kept your gaze out the windows, no sign of movement. Yet.

“Ben. Where are you?” Riley asked, tapping his shoes from the driver’s seat. Hands tapping atop of the wheel, he was more than a little tense.

You gave his shoulder a light squeeze. It was hardly enough to give you comfort given the situation.

“Where are you?” Riley sung uncomfortably.

Riley’s head turned to the left. He had spotted Ben making his way onto the dark street. The brunette turned the key and started the van. Lights illuminated the pavement.

All while your gaze was set on blonde hair and a dark formal gown.

Oh, crap, no, you thought. No, no, no.

Again, Riley looked out the side window as he set his hands on the steering wheel. There was a pause in his movements.

“Ben, the…uh,” Riley sunk in his seat, “the mean Declaration lady’s behind you.”

You maneuvered to stand behind the driver’s seat and out of sight. Your hands clinging to Riley’s shoulders. You turned around as Ben had opened the back door to the van.

“Just get in here, dang it,” you hissed to Ben.

“Hey.” The voice of Doctor Chase entered the night.

Ben shut the back door.

“No,” you dropped your forehead against the back of the driver’s seat.

The three of you needed to bail, leave, haul butt out.

Why did she have to follow him out? Why?

“What are they saying?” You whispered.

Ben was using up valuable seconds. Precious time.

“Stop chatting and get in the van.” Riley said through clenched teeth.

They were still idly chitchatting. You weren’t sure how long you and Riley could last being quiet in the van.

Sirens sounded off from the National Archives building.

You cursed mentally. A lot.

“Oh my God,” Riley murmured.

“Oh, my God! You did not…?” Doctor Chase’s voice carried over into the van.

You stood up straight and just then proceeded to lean over the chair as your heart sank. That and basically everything else seemed to crumble.

The sirens continued to blare loudly into the night.

“Security! Over here!”

Riley leaned forward to look out the side window.

“Security! Over here! Security!”

“Ohh,” Riley sunk back into his seat.

“Crap, she knows?” You cringed.

There she was, out there knowing exactly what the three of you did.

Click

You and Riley flinched.

Ben had opened the passenger door and was hastily getting inside.

“Go.” Ben stated as he shut the door.

Riley took off his headset.

“We can’t just let her go!” Riley pointed outside.

“We can. Go!”

Doctor Chase continued to make her way, not fast enough, towards the building with the document. The document you were certainly going to get in trouble for.

“Lady,” you said. “They can’t hear you fr—.”

“Wait. No, hold it. Hold it!” Ben stretched out his hand as the three of you watched a blue food truck headed straight for Doctor chase.

It was then that your stomach truly dropped.

The van came to a screeching halt in front of her.

“Oh, bad. Bad, bad, bad!” Ben was out of the passenger’s side in seconds. As he rounded towards the hood, shots were fired out of the blue van and onto the hood. Ben ducked to safety.

Just as men were grabbing for Doctor Chase, shots came to the driver’s side of the van. You and Riley ducked as glass shattered. The driver’s window broken.

“That’s…” Riley’s voiced as he sat up.

“Go! Go!” Ben had already made it back into the passenger’s seat.

An innocent life on the line and the Declaration of Independence, Riley put the van in drive. Slamming on the gas pedal, he made a U-turn on the empty lanes.

Staring out the windshield, you could hear sirens passing near the building.

“Once we catch them what do we do?” Riley asked, hands at ten and two.

“I’m working on it.” Ben answered.

“Right turn, right turn.”

You clung to the driver’s seat as your shoes did their best to stay in one place.

Close behind the food truck, horns sounded ahead. They turned right, dodging a trash truck. Riley did the same.

“Eeee,” your left shoulder hit the inside of the van.

But that was easier than what you saw in front of you. Construction work on the road.

“Ah!” The bouncing of the van was enough to loosen your grip on the seat and the next time the van’s tires made contact with the ground, so did your side with the floor of the van. “OW.”

“You okay?” Ben asked, looking over his shoulder.

“Yeah,” you clambered up to your feet. Only to fall back down with the next bump in the road.

“Skidding, skidding, skidding.” Riley’s voice narrated as the jolts and bumps subsided.

A tight grip onto the passenger’s seat, you stood up.

Outside, the food truck’s back doors swung open.

“Whoa!” You exclaimed as you watched Doctor Chase on the left door as it moved above the road.

“Oh, no.” Ben leaned forward.

“Holy Lord.” Riley stared as he focused on driving.

Of all of the things that could happen to the three of you, you hadn’t thought of someone dangling over the street in the middle of a car chase.

You all ducked as one of Ian’s men started shooting at the three of you, bullets ricochetting off of the van.

This was an entire different level you had not been planning on this morning.

The shooting stopped and Ben climbed into the back of the van. With the whole seatbelt in hand, he slid open the side door and leaned out of it.

You stood behind Riley’s seat again, holding on to the chair with a death grip and with feet planted to the flooring.

“Get me next to her,” Ben shouted.

Riley swerved onto the oncoming lane as you were more than prepared to snatch Ben back into the van, just in case.

The door of the food truck hung above the double lines of the road as Doctor Chase hung from it. Pavement passing underneath her each millisecond.

Riley drove up beside her as Ben was in view of her.

Two loud, deep horns alerted you to look out the front windshield.

“Riley!” You shouted as you saw the white bus approaching down the lane you were all in.

The food truck’s brakes hissed and Riley affectively swerved all of you to the left, out of the path of the bus. As soon as the bus was passed, Riley steered the van close to Doctor Chase once more. Ben stretched out of the van as he reached for her. Their hands touched, but the door swung closed, taking her away.

“NO! Ah!” Her cries carried out as the door swung back towards Ben.

Come on, come on, you pleaded.

“Abigail!” Ben called as they were soon close enough to grab onto one another. “Come on. Jump.” The pair of them fell back into the van as gun fire resounded, Ben slamming against you to where you were squished into the corner between the van’s interior and the front seat. Luckily, Riley kept an organized pile of blankets and soft items right behind his seat.

You turned in time to see Ben leap over Doctor Chase’s form and immediately shut the side door as Riley took the next street with screeching tires.

“Ohmygod,” you pulled yourself up to stand.

The streets were calm and quiet.

Ben moved to kneel in front of Doctor Chase as she sat. They both appeared to be unhurt.

“Are you all right?” Ben asked her.

“No! Those lunatics—!” Doctor Chase said, frazzled.

“You’re not hurt, are you?”

“You are all lunatics!”

“Are you hungry?”

“What?” She tilted her head at him as her voice raised in pitch.

“Are you all right?”

“Still a little on edge from being shot at, but I’ll be okay. Thanks for asking.” Riley answered, still driving as he looked back.

You placed a reassuring hand on his shoulder, the feel of the fabric was grounding in a way.

“Yeah, well, I’m not all right. Those men have the Declaration of Independence!” Abigail exclaimed looking from Riley, to you, to Ben.

“She lost it?” Riley shouted, both of you turning to look back at her.

Ben meanwhile reached over to one of the shelves where Riley kept his assortments of cords and wiring. He pulled out a large tube that might hold art prints or posters.

“They don’t have it,” Ben said as he unscrewed the lid and tilted to reveal its contents. The Declaration of Independence. “See? Okay? Now could you please stop shouting?”

It was safe after all.

How’d I miss that?

Your shoulders relaxed about a good three inches from where you were holding them.

“Give me that!” Doctor Chase went to snatch the document from where it peeked out from the container.

Ben was quick to pull the document away from her grasp and pointed at her.

“You’re still shouting. And it’s really starting to annoy. You’d do well, Doctor Chase, to be a bit more civilized in this instance.”

You watched as he sat down to properly close the lid as another cylinder of a maroon color leaned against him.

“If this is the real one, what did they get?” She moved closer to him. Closer to the document.

“A souvenir. I thought it'd be a good idea to have a duplicate. It turned out I was right. I actually had to pay for the souvenir and the real one, so you owe me thirty-five dollars plus tax.”

“Genius,” Riley snickered happily.

“Who were those men?” Doctor Chase asked.

“Just the guys we warned you were gonna steal the Declaration.” Ben looked to her.

“And you didn't believe us.” Riley pointed out as he continued driving.

“We did the only thing we could do to keep it safe.”

“Verdammt! Give me that!” Abigail shouted as she attempted to snatch the document again out of Ben’s grasp. She failed.

“You know something? You're shouting again.” Ben said calmly.

“I'm pretty sure she was swearing, too.” Riley piped up.

“Yup.” You added.

“Well, we probably deserve that.” Ben sighed in the passenger’s seat.

“After what we just went through, I have a few choice words too.”

You leaned against the chair more. Tired of standing as you were, you already had Doctor Chase beside you and sitting next to her was not something that would help with your discomfort. No one else was supposed to be involved. After the sneaking around, shooting, car chase, and saving Doctor Chase; you were more than antsy. Relieved that you all saved her and the document, but antsy. If she tried anything on you in some weird attempt to get the Declaration or change Riley’s driving—there’d be a brawl in the back of the van. Well, there was a lot of technology back there that wasn’t yours…so, perhaps not. You hoped. It didn’t seem realistic either nor anything you would want to do.

“There is not a treasure map on the back of the Declaration of Independence.” Doctor Chase sighed, visibly done with the entire situation. She sat close, just behind and just between the front seats.

“And there's no chance anyone can steal this,” Ben shook the containers that held the Declaration, “either. I leveled with you one hundred percent. Everything I told you was the truth.”

“I want that document, Mister Brown.”

“Okay, my name's not Brown. It’s Gates. I leveled with you ninety-eight percent.”

“Wait a minute, did you just say ‘Gates’?” She looked at him closely and then towards Riley who kept his head trained forward. It was after she glanced over at you that she then whipped her head in Ben’s direction again with hand gestures. “Gates? You're that family with the conspiracy theory about the Founding Fathers?”

“It's not a conspiracy theory.”

“Per se.” Riley said.

“You know what? I take it back. You're not liars. You're insane.”

“Gee…thanks,” you looked back to the woman before returning to watch the open road.

You couldn’t wait until the three of you got back to the apartment, but there was the speed bump called Abigail sitting beside you. Closing your eyes, you hoped that the drive home would be a little shorter.

It didn’t help that she also knew what the three of you intended to do with the document. She wasn’t too fond of treasure being involved or stealing the document, or…basically every little thing you all had done and were intending to do. You couldn’t blame her for that.

“You can't seriously intend to run chemical tests on the Declaration of Independence in the back of a moving van.” Doctor Chase said, her tone strict, again.

“We have a clean-room environment all set up. EDS suits, a particulate air filtration system, the whole shebang.” Riley explained in ease. The confidence was admiring.

You smiled.

“Really?” Doctor Chase asked.

Is she impressed? That’s new.

“We can't go back there.” Ben said.

“What? Why not?” Riley asked.

Call it a feeling in your gut, call it knowing your best friend. Your jaw set.

“What,” you slowly turned your head in Ben’s direction, “did you do?”

He shortly explained, while adverting eye contact, what he had done.

“What?” You exclaimed.

“A credit-card slip?” Riley took an audible breath. “Dude, we're on the grid. Do you have an—They’ll have your records from forever. They gonna have my records from forever. (Y/N)’s records—”

“I know. I know. It's only a matter of minutes before the FBI shows up at my front door.” Ben.

You groaned, slumping against the headrest.

“What do we do?” Riley asked quickly and firmly as he drove.

“We need those letters.” Ben said.

“What letters?” Doctor Chase asked, curious.

“You know, get off the road, ta-take a right.”

“What letters?”

. . .

Having done exactly as instructed, Riley had parked the van off the road on green grass by some water. It was dark and quite honestly, you had no idea what part of the city you were even in. Riley had moved onto the passenger’s seat, leaning his arms out of the rolled-down window. You had taken the opportunity to sit in the driver’s seat, happy to sit after brushing off shattered glass of course. Doctor Chase sat at the opening of the side door, watching as Ben paced a new path in the lush grass.

“What letters? You have the original Silence Dogood letters? Did you steal those, too?” She asked.

“We have scans of the originals. Quiet, please.” Ben said, pacing back and forth in front of her.

“How'd you get scans?”

“I know the person who has the originals. Now shush.”

You leaned your head against the seat, wondering when you’d all be back on the road. It wasn’t a mystery where you all had to drive next.

“Why do you need them?”

“She really can't shut her mouth, can she?” Ben asked Riley and you. Not receiving more than a hand gesture and a shrug, he turned back to Doctor Chase. “I'll tell you what, look. I will let you hold onto this if you'll promise to shut up, please. Thank you.”

He had given her the document, his annoyance and anxiety reaching it’s peak. His feet carrying him in small circles again in the grass.

“Ben, you know what you have to do.” Riley said.

“I know what to do.” Ben turned back to the van. “I'm just trying to think of anything else we could do.”

“Well, not to be a...nudge, but you do realize how many people we have after us. We probably have our own satellite by now.”

Ben went for another lap, turning away.

“It took you all of two seconds to decide to steal the Declaration of Independence.”

“Yeah, but I didn't think I was gonna have to personally to tell my dad about it.”

“Guys!” You shouted, leaping out of the seat as Doctor Chase took off at a run with the document.

“Hey, not cool! Not cool!” Ben caught up to her in no time and grabbed her.

You and Riley stood beside the van, watching as your friend handled the situation, but still on standby.

“Let me go!” She struggled until he did as she asked once he had the container in hand.

“Okay. You're let go. Go, shoo.” He gestured for her to leave.

“I'm not going. Not without the Declaration.” She grabbed the cylinder again.

“You're not going with the Declaration.” He yanked it out of her hands and slung its strap over his shoulder.

“Yes, I am. I'm not letting it out of my sight, so I'm going.”

“Wait. You're not going with us with the Declaration.”

“Yes, I am.” She tugged on the strap, pulling him to her.

“No, you're not.” Ben said, very close to her face.

Good grief, at this rate she’ll never leave us alone, you thought. Strange and alarming considering their constant tension.

“Look, if you wanted to leave me behind, you shouldn't have told me where you were going.”

Wha—?

You groaned, also hearing as Riley threw his head back against the side of the van.

“I wanna go home,” you grumbled to yourself.

“Take me with you,” Riley murmured.

“I live in the same building as Ben.”

~~~~~

(That concludes Part Two - Protecting The Document. I hope you enjoyed it. I enjoyed writing it. I’m excited to move on throughout the story of the movie National Treasure. How do you think relationships will change now that the friends’ plans have be altered? Let me know! All the best!

If you love my writings and want to support me, I have a Ko-Fi where you can buy me a coffee. I would be eternally grateful. coffee

Best wishes and happy reading.)

~~~~~

DreamerDragon Tags: @imacuteprincess @gingerlaserbeam @cubedtriangle

PART 3

#National treasure fanfiction #Riley Poole #Riley Poole x Reader #Riley Poole x Reader series #National Treasure #disney #Riley Poole imagine #Riley Poole imagines #where dreamers go #requested #Happy Valentine's Day

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shreddedparchment · 5 years

Text

Colocataire Pt.01

The Push and Pull

06/26/2019

Pairing: Thor x Reader x Steve Word Count: 7,653

Prompt: Colocataire - Roommate

Masterpost Warnings: Polyamory, sexual tension, fluff, smidge of angst, language, violence

A/N: This is the first of a two part series for @cametobuyplums ‘s writing challenge. I had initially intended for it to be a one shot but as always, these challenges are always demanding more attention. I hope you all like it. I had a lot of fun writing this first bit and it’ll only get better. If you happen to reblog, thanks so much for helping me spread my work! xoxo

Edit: I can’t believe I completely forgot to credit the amazing @youngmoneymilla for reading the beginning innards of this piece for me and giving me some great input.

Several thoughts float through your mind as your apartment door shuts behind you.

The hairs on the back of your neck stand on end and your grandma’s old warning echoes around in your brain.

“Don’t trust anyone and always be aware of your surroundings. The world is out to get you, sweetheart. Never forget it.”

You reach for your pepper spray but before you can plunge your hand into the depths of your purse, your living room light flares on.

You blink hard against the brightness, distraught. You draw in a deep breath and prepare to scream when a calming female voice interrupts you.

“Don’t yell. Calm down. I’m not going to hurt you.” She says.

You recognize that voice, but you’ve only ever heard it over the phone.

The first time you'd heard it you’d been a kid. Almost a baby still, only four years old, when this oddly husky voice had been slightly reedier.

She’d been young too. Older than you but still young. Malleable.

“N-Natasha?” You stutter, too startled to do more than croak at her.

“Hey, Y/N. Long time no see.” She says, a smile in her voice.

As your eyes focus, you see her clearly. She’s wearing a pair of plain light blue jeans. A light blue tank top underneath a form fitting gray leather jacket. It’s all topped with the same licorice red hair you remember her having as a child.

How it is that she can walk so silently in her sneakers when your own have a tendency to squeak against your dark chocolate wooden floor, you cannot comprehend.

“Why are you here?” You ask, forgetting your manners. “I mean, no. That’s not what I mean. Sorry, I’m just-”

“Surprised to see me?” She offers.

“Yeah.” You half-laugh. “Yes. Very. How’ve you been?”

You relax, peel off your own black jacket and hang it by the door before dropping your purse off on the small table nearby.

“Oh, you know. Living the life.” She grins, hands shoved into her pockets as she looks away from you to walk back towards the seat on your sofa she’d chosen and risen from when you walked in.

“You’re still with the Avengers.” You say, as if she doesn’t know that herself.

“I am.” She watches you with green apple eyes as you move to take a seat on the opposite end of the couch. You kick your shoes off and stretch your toes.

Wearing heels sucks but you work in a pretty nice office.

“And you’re-?”

“Still working nine to five.” You smile at her. “Boring as ever."

“Good.” And she does look happy for you.

She turns herself sideways, hiking up her knee onto the cushion while resting her right arm across the back.

Neither of you says anything for a minute and you look down at your feet, stretch out your legs and lean down to massage the red welts where your shoes had dug into the sides of your feet.

“So, what do you need? You never visit.” You’re not angry or hurt. Just knowing.

Nat had reached out one day several years ago. Checking up on the kid who’d escaped the Red Room Academy.

No ballet for you. No blood on your hands either. You’d been plucked by an angel and saved from enrollment.

Lucky.

“Sorry I didn’t message you this month.” She leans towards you, placing her hand on the center cushion.

You smile and then chuckle, amused.

“I figured you were just busy. I don’t mean to sound offended if that’s what I sounded like. I just…what do you need Nat?” The two of you had grown close over time so she doesn’t take offense with your tone.

“I’m that transparent, huh?”

“No. Not transparent, you’ve just never come to visit. Never mind letting yourself in.” You point out, glancing at the locks on your door.

If she can get in, who else can? You suddenly have the need to upgrade your locks.

“I do need a favor.” She sits back, relaxing into the arm of your sofa as you bring your attention back to her.

“Will this require a long explanation? I’m starving.”

“No, but please, make yourself some dinner. Don’t mind me.” She nods towards your kitchen, hands shoved between her knees as she lifts the other leg up onto the sofa.

“Okay.” You give her a smile then reach over to give her knee a squeeze before kicking your shoes aside.

You pull down on the zipper of your skirt and step out of it as you step into your room.

“So, what’s this favor?” You probe, slipping into a pair of ripped gray sweats.

Pulling on a simple red tank to go with it, you wander back into the living room where Nat is now laying on the sofa staring up at your ceiling. You follow her gaze and smile, stopping at the edge of the sofa by her head with your hands on your hips.

She points up at the ceiling and smiles at you, upside down.

“When’d you do that?” She asks, and you shrug your shoulders.

“Almost as soon as I moved in? They’re in every room of the house. Even the bathroom.” You admire the non-illuminated stars.

There are small ones and medium and great big ones carefully spread out along the ceiling. They’re not in any particular constellations or formations. You just filled it up until it looked like the night sky.

“I like it.” She states, gazing fondly at the plastic glow-in-the-dark stars.

“What’s the favor?” You ask, chuckling lightly as you gather your hair up at the top of your head in a messy bun.

“You’re not gonna like it.”

You freeze with your hand on the fridge door and frown at her from across the room.

“It’s work related?” Her work, of course. Not yours.

“Yes. But don’t worry, you won’t need to go out into the field or anything. I just need to borrow your place, if you’ll let us use it?” She wonders, propping herself up onto her elbows to look at you.

“Us?” Nat and Clint maybe? You’d met Clint. “Why do you need my apartment?”

Nat had sent him to check up on you when you hadn’t messaged her back, but you’d only broken your phone and procrastinated on getting a new one. He’d been nice.

Hot. Married. Damn it.

“It’ll only be for a few months. There’s—well, I can’t tell you too much without breaking confidentiality but someone’s making bombs and using them all over town.” Nat begins.

“The Late-Night Bomber?!” You ask, very interested.

You’ve been terrified of being out at night thanks to this crazy idiot. Regular bombs are scary enough, but this jerk is using alien tech.

“The one all over the news?” You continue.

“Yeah.” Nat nods, getting to her feet then stretching her arms over her head.

You observe her lithe form and wish you had the dedication to make your body look like hers.

“Why here?” You wonder.

“The bombs are originating from somewhere in this neighborhood. But we don’t know exactly where.” She smacks the right corner of her lips, a look of disappointment overtaking her beautiful face.

“What?!” You squeak, even more afraid than you were before.

“Yeah. That’s why I was wondering if we could-”

“Yes!” You cut her off, charging towards her with a spatula smeared in tomato sauce. “Yes. Come! Please!”

“Okay.” Nat chuckles, finding amusement in your fear. “Great. Thanks.”

If the Late-Night Bomber is in your neighborhood, having Nat and Clint around is a must.

The heavy knock on your door startles you.

You’ve been on edge since Nat came over and told you about that psycho living in your neighborhood.

Chewing on your lower lip, pulling at the small chapped skin on the left, you put your book down and with a small gulp, move for the door.

You’re still wearing your ratty gray sweats. A white fitted tee on top.

Nat knows what you look like in those sweats and Clint is married so…you’re not trying to impress anyone.

Then you open your front door and your heart nearly hammers itself out of your chest.

You have never, in your life, had your jaw drop. You have never, in your life, felt like your heart was both exploding and burning. You have never, in your life, coveted anyone the way you are suddenly coveting the tall, wide, long haired blonde standing before you.

His wide shoulders are what you see because he’s turned around, talking to another tall blonde. This one has short hair. A neat cut. Clean shaven face.

His storm blue eyes do things to you that you have also never felt before.

Woah. Is all you can think because this much good-looking should not be in one room all at one time.

If you were more dramatic. You might have fainted.

The golden blonde with the shorter hair nudges the slightly taller dirtier blonde with his elbow and he turns.

“Hi.” The shorter blonde says. “You must be Y/N. I’m-”

“C-Captain America.” You stutter. Not cool, loser. “I mean, Steve. Rogers, right?”

“Yeah.” He says, then he gives you a stupidly cute smile. “Nice to meet you.”

You smile back, unable to help yourself. “Hi.”

Then you look up at the taller blonde but he’s staring at you with his mouth open and you’re suddenly wondering why.

You look down at yourself and feel your cheeks burn as you realize that you’re WAY underdressed to meet guys this hot.

Shit.

“Oh-I…excuse me.” You turn and hurry towards the hallway.

“Wait!” Captain America says but you don’t stop.

You move fast, rushing to be out of their sight while also grabbing your cell as you pass the chair you’d been sitting in.

Once you’re in your room, you pull open your drawers and search them one handed while you dial Natasha’s number with the other.

You sandwich the device with your left shoulder and ear while simultaneously sliding out of your ratty sweats.

Ring, ring. Ring, ring.

“Come on, Nat. Pick up the damn phone.” You grumble.

Finally managing to step out of your pants, you kick them away towards your hamper as the phone clicks.

“Hey, hold on. I’ll call you back.” Nat says, the sound of gunfire in the background.

“No, Nat!” You shout but she hangs up. You grab the phone in both hands and squeeze it, trembling hands of fury as you mentally strangle her. “Fffffffuck!”

“Hey, is everything alright?” Captain America’s voice drifts in muffled through your door.

It startles you and you jump again.

“Oh, uh, yes! Yes. Everything’s fine. Just…have a seat. Make your-yourselves at home. I’ll be right out.” You turn back towards your drawers, drop your phone on top, then pull out a pair of wrinkled old jeans and slide those on.

“Okay.” Cap replies, sounding unconvinced.

Buzz! Buzz-buzz!

Your phone moves a half an inch towards you as it vibrates, and you yank it up to your ear.

“Nat!” You whisper-shout, quick glance towards your bedroom door.

“Hey. Sorry about that. You kinda caught me mid-heist. What’s up? Everything okay?” There’s still the distant sound of gunshots from her end of the line and for one moment you consider hanging up. “Y/N?”

“Why aren’t you here?” You demand as quietly as possible while you reach down to do up your zipper and button.

“Oh.” She laughs. She laughs?! “I guess the guys are there.”

“Nat, when you told me that you needed to use the apartment, you said it would be you and Clint.” You move to the edge of your bed and plop yourself down, left hand nervously gripping your knee.

“No, I didn’t.” She says, amusement still turning her voice.

“Yes. You did.”

“No. Shit. Hold on.” Four gunshots, loud. Close. A grunt. Then a deep sigh. “I never said that me and Clint were the two that would be staying.”

“Oh my God, Nat. You said, us and us has always been you and Clint.” You explain passionately.

“Us. The Avengers. That’s what I meant. I’m sorry if you misunderstood. What’s the problem? Are they being rude?” The way she asks, she makes it sound as if she’ll scold them.

“No.” You assure her, uncomfortable. Shifting from side to side on the mattress. “No. They’re not being rude. They—they haven’t even been able to speak much yet.”

“Then?” Nat waits. When a minute passes you hear her exasperated sigh. “Y/N? What’s the problem?”

“I just—I thought it was going to be you and Clint so I just kinda opened the door.” You sweep your hand as if you’re pulling the door open again. “In my sweats. My hair all…I look like…”

Nat is suddenly laughing on the other end.

“Nat.” You growl, embarrassed.

“Don’t worry, Y/N. Steve and Thor are not there to date. They’ll stay out of your way. You stay out of theirs. It’ll be like they’re not even there. Besides, I don’t think you’re exactly their type.”

You don’t know why but this offends you. Is she calling you ugly? You’re not…you know what you look like, but Nat had always seemed so open.

“Oh.” Your insecurity seeps through to your tone and she picks up on it quickly.

“No, Y/N. That’s not what I meant. You’re just very normal. Thor dated an astrophysicist. Steve dated an ex-S.H.I.E.L.D. agent and current C.I.A. operative. You’re just a little…?”

“Unimpressive?” You supply.

Nat sighs. “They’d be lucky to have someone like you. But as I said, they’re not there to date. They’re professionals, Y/N. They wouldn’t do that. I promise.”

Nat had been right of course. Steve and Thor were professionals.

When they were on watch.

When they weren’t, they were eating your fridge clean. Leaving their clothes all over the place. And taking up space on your couch.

“Who made coffee and didn’t clean the pot? There’s mold in here now.” You growl.

“I’m sorry. That was me. I’ll wash it now.” Thor rises to his feet, but you shoot him a glare.

“Don’t bother. I’m already doing it.” You pile the pot beside the other dirty dishes and then move towards your favorite armchair.

“Thor, is this your shirt?” Thor, who had casually laid himself back down on the sofa, looks up over the edge of the Rubik’s Cube he’s been fiddling with all week.

It’s halfway solved but he keeps messing it up.

“No. That’s Cap’s.”

“Oh.” You fold it and try not to like how soft it is or the smell of light crisp fragrance that wafts up towards you from it.

God, they both smell so damn good.

Thor’s wearing normal clothes here. You have yet to see him in his uniform since he arrived. Almost a month and he’s still wearing mostly hoodies, t-shirts, and jeans.

And he looks good. All the time.

“Why do you call him Cap? Do you always call him that?” He laughs at you, big goofy smile as his electric sapphire eyes sparkle.

“What? Of course not. I know his name. We’re friends.” He says.

“So, what is it?”

“What’s what?” He goes back to his Rubik’s cube, brow knit, smile still plastered over his ridiculous pink lips.

They peek out from his scruffy beard, begging for kisses but you shove that thought away too.

They’re your roommates for all intents and purposes and they treat you like…well, you’re not exactly sure what they treat you like. Not like someone they’re interested in. Steve hardly pays you any mind.

“His name, Thor. What’s Cap’s name?” You clarify, holding Steve’s shirt against your chest as Thor stares up at your plastic stars.

“They’re out here too?” He asks, sitting up suddenly, tossing the Rubik’s Cube aside.

“Huh?”

“The stars.” He points at them and he’s so tall he can reach up and trace one of them when you’d had to balance on a chair on your tiptoes to place them.

“Oh. Yeah.” You watch him admire the sight before he races for the light switch and turns them all off.

He then hurries to all the windows and pulls down the blinds plunging the both of you into darkness.

“Thor!” You complain, unable to see almost anything.

As your eyes adjust, you see the vague black shadow of your furniture and a much larger mass moving around the room towards you. The shadow is looking up.

You move your eyes upwards and see what he sees. Your apartment’s ceiling is suddenly the night sky and your breath catches in your throat.

It’s not real. You know it isn’t. You sometimes forget that they’re there though and when you see them again after letting them slip from your mind, they take your breath away.

“They’re beautiful. I stare up at the ones in my room before I go to sleep every night.” Thor tells you from somewhere in the darkness to your left.

You walk towards the sound of his voice but bump into the TV stand.

“Ow.”

“Careful.” He tells you from where the sofa should be. “Come over here.”

“This would be easier if the lights were on.” You mutter.

“But then we wouldn’t see the stars.” The yearning in his voice is real and you wonder what must have put it there.

“Well, I can’t see. It’s dark. I don’t have your eyes.” You complain.

“My eyes? What do my eyes have to do with anything?” His deep confusion is ridiculous. Stupid God.

“Oh, I don’t know. Can you see? Do those Godly peepers of yours let you see in the dark?”

“Peepers?” He asks, confused for a moment by the slang. “Sort of.”

“Well, I can’t see jack shit.” Dummy.

He chuckles. It’s deep and it rumbles out from his chest. You like it.

“What are you laughing at?” You whine.

“You’ll hurt yourself if you keep moving that way. Here. Follow my voice.” He coaxes you, soft and gentle.

“Can’t we just turn on the lights?” You sigh, moving towards the last spot you’d heard his deep timber.

“No. I like the stars.” And his voice is close. You adjust a little to your left.

“Watch it, the coffee table is there. Here, a little to your right. You can walk between your armchair and the table.” He says.

“This way?” You ask, looking up at the stars on the ceiling and wishing you’d laid them out in constellations so that you’d know them like a real map of the stars.

You reach out, holding your hand in front of you to see if you might hit something first but instead hot fingers intertwine with your own.

Freezing, you stop walking but try to memorize the way Thor’s fingers feel around yours. It’s not like he’s guiding you. He’s seriously just holding your hand.

Fingers laced through yours.

The tension in the room becomes so thick you could cut it. What kind of tension?

You blink, swallow, nervously as more heat finds your chest.

“I’ve got you.” He whispers, and his breath wafts down on you.

You could lean up. You know where his lips would be.

“Come.” He says, and his hand pulls you down.

You can hear him shifting and shuffling in front of you, then his hands are on your hips and you’re breathless.

“Thor?”

“Lay down with me. Let’s watch the stars.” He begs. His fingers shift over the soft, cotton dress you’d put on this morning to meet a friend from the office for lunch.

“I can’t see.” You whisper, nerves on edge and burning.

His large hands trace your hips down along the outside of your thighs until they find your knees and he pulls them towards himself.

The sensation of falling is terrifying in the pitch black, but he catches you. His arms are wrapped around you, underneath your own arms, and very slowly he lowers you until your knees are on the ground.

He’s already sitting, you realize. You shift to his left and sit down too.

“Wait.” He says, a rush of his scent washes over you, fresh rain, wet soil, clean spring air, with a bite of bitter ozone, numbing your senses to everything but him. “Here.”

He places his hands on your shoulders and very slowly leads you down onto the floor. He’s only guiding you, so you don’t get too excited.

When your head hits a pillow, you laugh. “Thanks.”

How considerate.

“You’re welcome.” You can hear the smile in his voice as he settles in beside you to your right. Your sofa on your left.

“You really like my stars that much?” You wonder, staring up at the pretty patterns.

“I do. They remind me of home. Before it was destroyed. Cap told me that they are made of plastic? With bio-luminescent paint?” He wonders, his breath wafting towards you again.

He’s so close you can feel his arm grazing against yours, his fingers probably within reach.

“Something like that. I’ve never been curious enough to really find out what they’re made of.” You look towards where his head should be. “So, are you ever going to answer my question?”

“What question?” He asks, and his hot breath is on your lips and you might just go ahead and faint.

Thor is so close that he’s whispering and still sounds as loud and clear as when he greets you everyday with a cheerful good morning despite the bird’s nest on your head and the grumpy scowl you wear until you have your coffee and breakfast.

“What’s Cap’s name?” You whisper back.

“Oh. That. Uh…well, of course, because he and I are such close friends—Stefan. Of course, I know that.” He brags so uncertain that he must know he’s wrong.

It makes you smile, and you grin up at him despite not being able to see him.

“Stefan? Are you sure you don’t mean Steven?” You ask.

“That, yes. That’s what I said.” He assures you.

“No one calls him Steven.” You whisper, desperately wanting to laugh.

“Of course not. They call him Steve.” Well, color you impressed. “Steve Dodgers.”

“What?!” You exclaim, already laughing.

“What? Is that not it?” He asks, laughing now too. It’s a low chuckle, rising in pitch at the end that tickles your belly with flutters. “Lodgers?”

You laugh harder. It makes your knees fold up as you clutch at your stomach with your left arm.

Suddenly, your right hand is wrapped in warmth and those large fingers are interlacing with yours again.

It startles your heart into a fast thrum, but your laugh dies into a chuckle as you let your fingers curl around Thor’s too.

“I’ll help you with the dishes.” He says, and that nearly makes you twist towards him. It makes you want to mount him, but you lean up towards the breath he’s breathing towards you.

“Okay.” You reply, excited and scared but oh, so eager. “Can we do it in a little bit? The dishes I mean?”

When he speaks, his voice is so close, he might as well just be speaking into your mouth. “Your wish is my command…my princess.”

Oh, God, you’re going to pounce him. He’s a goner.

As the two of you lean towards each other, the rattling of keys and the door pry the two of you apart.

You sit up, surprised by the intrusion. You’re on your feet and just before the lights flare on, you quickly shake your hand out of Thor’s.

Steve freezes with his hand still on the switch as he watches you and the awkward way you move to the side in quick small steps, back towards the armchair where you’d dropped his folded shirt.

“You’re back.” You gasp.

“Uh…yeah.” Steve says, picking up on that tense thick atmosphere you’d noticed when the lights were shut off.

“Did you find anything?” Thor asks, still sitting on the floor but leaning on top of the coffee table.

“No.” Steve sighs and shuts the door. He moves toward the kitchen counter and drops off a large brown paper bag you hadn’t noticed he was holding. “I got some stuff for dinner though. Steaks sound good?”

“Oh, Odin, bless him. He’s got meat.” Thor rattles as he gets to his feet and moves towards the kitchen.

“You just ate.” You remind him, remembering the four sandwiches he’d devoured not an hour ago.

He turns and shrugs at you, a lopsided smile on those lips that you’d nearly kissed. Fuck, that timing.

“Well, I can’t cook for shit, so unless you want blackened steaks, I suggest someone else take over.” Steve says, knowing himself well enough.

“I can-” You begin but Thor cuts you off.

“I’ve got this. You have never had steak until you have had it made by a true Asgardian chef.” Thor brags, clapping his hands and removing his hoodie.

It pulls up on his t-shirt and you see the golden glimpse of his tight back before he’s pulling his dark blue t-shirt down.

“Thor, you burned the grilled cheese.” You remind him.

He doesn’t look at you.

“Well, that was merely a mistake. I promise you, my p-” He looks up at Steve who’s staring deep into the paper bag as he pulls the groceries out, to see if he’s hearing this slip as it happens but Steve seems unaware. “-panicky friend. That will not happen again. I was distracted last time.”

Thor saves himself but your heart is pounding, and you don’t know why he’s not willing to say that again in front of Steve. Maybe because it isn’t supposed to be happening?

This sucks.

“I don’t know that I’m hungry.” You tell him, the shift of melancholy in your voice.

He notices and he turns to look at you, his blue eyes full of bright reassurance. Whether it’s for his cooking or what just happened in the dark, you’re not sure.

What you are sure of is that falling for one of these sudden roommates wasn’t something you’d been expecting.

As Thor turns back towards the counter, Steve turns to look at you. He gives you a small sheepish smile. It raises goosebumps on your skin and the flutter in your stomach from Thor’s hand rushes up to make your heart tumble.

Falling for both of your roommates? Odin help you.

“Steve, you don’t have to do that. I can manage.” The awkwardness of trying to keep your distance as he snakes your drain is palpable.

Gross. What if he pulls out a massive wad of your hair?

You wring your hands, tapping the toe of your sneaker against the light cream-colored tile of your bathroom floor.

“Steve…” You worry.

“Hold on. I’ve almost…” A grunt. “Got it.”

Okay. That’s enough. “Seriously, you should stop. I’ve been snaking my own drain for years now. I’m an expert.”

You move towards him, shoving yourself between him and the wall that he’s got his arm propped against. Your tub sits at an angle in the back corner of your bathroom and he has to lean in to get to the drain in the back center.

You reach for the snaking tool with your right hand as he adjusts his hold on the wall with his left.

“Wait, Y/N. Don’t.” He looks worried as you lean in. “It’s wet, let me just get up.”

“I got it. Just let me do it.”

“Hold on.” He says sternly.

“Steve…” You protest.

Then your hand slips against the bottom of the tub and your body falls down towards the painful ceramic.

You don’t even scream as your body is flung. You shut your eyes tight and wait for the painful stab of the tub’s edge against your ribs but instead find your chest pressed against a harder muscled one.

Arms curled in against your own, you keep your eyes closed, knowing very well that you’ve managed to damsel in distress your way into Steve’s stupidly strong embrace.

“You okay?” He asks, worry thick. “I told you to wait. Why didn’t you just wait?”

You don’t speak. You’re too embarrassed.

“Y/N?” Steve asks, more worry seeping through. “Did you hit yourself somewhere?”

“No.” You utter.

“Wha-then, are you okay?” He asks again.

“No.” You groan.

“What’s the matter?” He pulls you up, somehow getting you both on level footing again with his sheer upper body strength.

Opening your eyes, you try not to look down at the wide expanse of his chest and shoulders. They stretch the heather gray fabric of his t-shirt and you’re already battling with the urge to run your hands up along his strong pectorals on a daily basis.

“Nothing. I’m just a klutz.” You sigh.

Steve sighs too. With relief? “Oh.”

There’s a small huff of hot air. He’s laughing at you.

“I mean, I could have told you that after the first week of staying here with you. Didn’t think it would take three months being around a Super Soldier to make you realize it.” He sounds assuredly cocky, despite his usual straight-cut demeanor.

“You’re teasing me?” You demand, surprised, but pleasantly so.

“No.” He promises, shaking his head. “No. I’m just—okay, maybe I am teasing you a little.” He laughs, a real laugh.

“Jerk.” You reach out and push him, hand lingering just a bit too long against the left side of his chest.

“Sorry.” He chuckles, reaching up to take hold of your hand.

Something like electricity charges the air as his hand closes around yours, cupping the back of it when you leave it there.

“Are you?” It doesn’t sound like he’s sorry. He sounds like he’s having fun.

He shakes his head. “Not really.” And laughs again.

You renew the push to his shoulder, and he trails his hand down your forearm to your elbow, the pressure bending it so that it brings you closer.

The two of you go silent again. You stare into his storm blue gaze, trying to understand the blue-fire within them.

“You’ve been kind of on a fixing kick with all the little broken things in the apartment.” First the light in the dining room.

Then the doorbell. The window that doesn’t open in the living room. One of the coffee table legs. Testing the smoke alarms. Waxing the wooden floors. Repairing some tile on your bathroom floor and the guest bathroom. Snaking both drains. Polishing all the fixtures. What’s he doing?

“Your landlord doesn’t come by often enough.” Steve’s right too.

You’ve never once seen your landlord to fix things in the few years you’ve lived here.

“I usually do them myself.” You tell him.

“I don’t doubt that you can. I just wanted to help. I live here too, you know?” He says, tenor voice burrowing its way into your chest hollow.

“I hadn’t noticed, what with you being gone so much this month.” You’ve missed him. His presence around the apartment.

Thor has also been gone a lot this month and after that incident two months ago with your stars, Thor hasn’t shone any kind of interest. No more my princess and you’re desperate to hear it again.

Clearly whatever had happened that night had been a one-time thing. Caught up in the stars maybe because he’s shown no sign of interest since.

“I know.” Steve says, pulling you out of your thoughts of Thor. “Sorry. We’ve been tracing the bomber upstate. Then back down and back up. He’s moving but we’re not sure why.”

You don’t want to talk about the Late-Night Bomber. He’s killed so many people and the thought of him in your building or the next building or the building across the street, it drives you up the wall with worry.

Feeling safe with Steve and Thor has become somewhat of a habit and now that they’ve been spending so much time out of your apartment, your fear has rushed back to the forefront.

“What if he shows up one day?” Your intention is not to pull any sort of reaction from Steve. It’s a genuine question. “And you’re not here?”

You’re truly afraid. Helpless in a way that you’d never thought would matter.

“That won’t happen.” Steve insists, suddenly yanking you closer. His hand curves around your waist, fingers digging deep into the tissues of your back.

“You can’t be sure.” You tell him.

“Y/N…” He starts, but you don’t want to talk about the bomber!

“So, listen,” You press on, intent on forgetting the danger. “Since you’re in a handyman type of mood, do you think you could come back into my room?”

“Why?” He asks, curious but his hand gets tighter. You gasp, so quiet that no one but Steve can hear it.

He’ll probably be able to hear the pounding of your heart too. Is it giving you away?

“Do you have something in there that needs tending to?” The meaning of his words is laced with double entendre and you blink your eyes shut to focus.

You’re suddenly aching and pooling in all the right and wrong places. Damn this man and the other one too.

RING! RING-RING!

Both of you jump and Steve drops his arm. You race around him towards your bathroom counter and stare with muted aggression at the name on the screen. With a swipe of your finger, you answer the phone and press it to your ear.

“Hey, Nat.” You turn around and hop up onto the counter, crossing your legs tight and shoving your fisted hand over the crotch of your pants.

There’s nothing to see there, but you’re very aware of what’s underneath.

Steve crosses into your eye line and you stare at him as he moves to stand beside you, washing his hands in the sink. Slowly.

He’s watching you. His storm blue eyes curious and penetrating.

“Hey. You okay? You sound weird.” Stupid spy.

“Yes. I’m fine.” You assure her.

“Good. Everything going okay with tweedledee and tweedledum?” Her voice is knowing but not in the way you’re expecting.

She sounds like she’s asking you about two mischievous boys. Young ones. Brothers. Not these two Adonis men walking around your apartment.

“Yeah. We’re good. Steve’s actually helping me out around the apartment as we speak. He just snaked my drain.” You say, fully aware of the way it sounds.

Steve’s eyebrows slowly shoot up on his forehead, hand washing forgotten.

All you can do is stare at him.

“That’s good! They’re actually helping? We can’t get them to do anything back on the compound.”

“Yeah. I’ll have to thank him for being so good to me.” You say, lowering your tone.

You’d be lying if you said that despite Thor’s reservations since the almost kiss, you and Steve haven’t been sharing lingering looks. The shy boy is endearing but it’s those long stares he gives you across the dining table or when you look up from your book while you sit in your favorite armchair and meet his eye from where he sits on the couch.

It’s inquisitive and probing. Never explicitly full of desire but sometimes there’s a lick to his lips and you have to look away or leave the room because your neck suddenly burns like lava.

Living with Steve is not easy. Living with Thor feels more and more like torture.

They’re so good to you now. They clean up after themselves when they see you come home exhausted. Thor makes breakfast almost every day. Steve brings you new books and Thor asks you endless questions about nothing and everything.

Your favorite nights—the ones that hurt but also feel so good—are the ones when you shut off the living room lights and while Steve runs his surveillance of the neighborhood through a small crack in the blinds, you lay on your sofa, Thor lays on the floor beside you. And all three of you talk and gaze at your indoor stars.

Today is much harder than any other day because as you tell Nat that you’ll have to thank your roomie, he places his hand on the inside of your left knee.

Your mouth parts, a small soundless gasp escaping as he trails that hand up along the inside of your thigh.

Where is this coming from but also, why hasn’t it happened already?!

Nat had said you weren’t their type. Maybe not Thor’s now, since he’s backed off, but Steve?

“Who are you talking to?” Clint’s voice is immediately recognizable and maybe you would have jumped at the chance to tell him hi, but right now, you’re too distracted.

Steve’s fingers tickle the exposed flesh of your leg. His tips slowly press into the bottom hem of your jean shorts.

“Y/N. Anyway,-”

“Tell her I said, hi.” Clint says.

“I’m sure she can hear you, dummy.” Nat replies.

“Hi, Y/N!”

“Hi, Clint.” You manage as Steve’s fingers push up high underneath that left short leg.

“Anyway, I gotta go. I’ll be by next month to check up on you and make sure those boys aren’t driving you crazy. Okay?”

“O-okay.” You stutter.

“Bye!” Nat finally releases you and you mumble something that sounds like ‘bye’ but then you’re putting the phone on the counter beside you.

You reach out and grab hold of Steve’s t-shirt by the neck and make to pull him towards you as his hand claws into your skin when you hear the sound of the front door.

“Hello?” Thor booms, still in the living room. “I’m home. Anyone here?”

You have a terrible, horrible, no good life.

“Yeah.” Steve says, pulling his hand back. “We’re in the bathroom.”

He moves back towards the tub and doesn’t spare you another glance as you’re left to writhe and wonder why your luck seems to run out right at this very moment.

Both damn times.

“In here?” Thor asks, as he enters your bedroom then makes for your bathroom.

When he sees you perched on the counter, he smiles, blue eyes twinkling. “Hello.”

“Hey.” You reply, wishing your heart would make up its mind.

Steve or Thor, stupid. Can’t be both.

Thor moves towards you and places both hands on the counter by your legs on either side.

He leans in and kisses your cheek, leaving a searing burn as he pulls back to look at Steve.

“What are you doing?” He asks, curious as he goes to join him.

“Snaking the drain.”

“Whating the what?” He asks, and Steve smiles.

“Snaking the drain. Here, I’ll show you.”

Left to sit on the counter, stewing in your Steve created arousal and Thor heartache, you can’t help but wonder, why not both?

“What exactly is the point of this game?” Thor wonders, setting his pair of deuces aside.

“The point is to get rid of all of your cards first. The last person to lose all of their cards loses the game.” You explain for what feels like the tenth time.

“You got any fours?” Steve asks Thor, sparing a glance out the window to his left.

Always on the watch, your Captain. Wait. My Captain?

“No.” Thor says, fiddling with his card order.

“No, Thor!” You whine, leaning over towards him with your cards held close to your chest.

“Oh, right. Sorry. Go fishing." He says it like he’s insulting Steve and it makes you chuckle.

You plop yourself down on the table, pleasantly exasperated, as Thor watches you and smiles. It’s so flirty and sweet that your heart gives a little ache.

It’s been four months since the incident in the dark and he still hasn’t done anything other than give you an occasional chaste kiss on the cheek.

“What? That’s what I say, right?” He asks, looking at Steve.

Steve is also smiling, eyes trained on his cards.

“It’s ‘go fish' not ‘go fishing'.” He explains and as you straighten up, Thor gives a small somber pout.

“Oh. Then go fish. I have no fours.” He looks up at you and smiles again, soft subtle curve to those bristling pink lips. “Do you have any threes?”

Does his beard tickle when it’s kissed?

His smile widens as he watches you stare.

Your ears burn but you smile back at him bashfully. Being caught staring at his lips is nothing new.

“Go fish.” You chuckle, bite your bottom lip then turn your eyes on Steve.

You find him watching the two of you with a small pucker between his eyes.

The look wipes away all the flirtatious flutters Thor just gave you, filling your tummy up with knots.

“Um…do you have any eights?” You ask him and Steve just stares.

When the silence becomes unbearable--Thor's eyes are glued to his cards the entire time—you breathe in slowly.

“Steve?” And release it in a nervous huff.

He opens his mouth to reply, when a loud piercing explosion shakes the room.

BOOM!

You scream, cards flying up in the air as you clamp your hands over your ears.

You’re still frozen while Steve and Thor push their chairs back away from the table, cards forgotten as Steve races for his shield by your desk. Thor holds out his hand and his axe flies towards him.

As it makes contact with his skin, his body is engulfed by harmless—to you—sizzling electricity that stands the small hairs on the back of your neck on end and bathes you in soothing heat.

“Your gun, Y/N.” Steve says sternly as he heads towards the front door. “Stay in your room.”

Despite his order, you’re still not moving. A million things could have happened to cause that explosion but something tells you that what you’ve been fearing would happen has finally happened.

The Late-Night Bomber is done with this neighborhood and is making an example of it. Maybe he caught onto Thor and Steve’s scent?

Thor’s large hand closes around your bicep and he pulls you out of your seat. He’s gentle but firm. The urgency in his movements scares you.

“Go, my princess,” He whispers, so low that Steve won’t hear him. “Find your weapon and stay out of harm’s way. We will return for you shortly. Go.”

As he pushes you towards the hallway you turn to watch him disappear through your front door behind Steve. His words had woken you back up and now more than ever you hate to see him and Steve go.

You do as you’re told.

You hurry into your bedroom and shove your hands into the space between your mattress and the box spring until they find sleek cold metal.

The gun is a small nine-millimeter Beretta and Steve chose it specifically for you because of its small size and low recoil. He’d show up one day with it nestled in a small silver metal case, kissed your head, and told you to keep it close.

“Stay safe.” He always says when he leaves. Today he forgot to say it.

Settling into the faded baby blue armchair in the corner of your room, you sit with your feet propped up on the seat. You use your knees to aim your gun at the door and urge your hands to still.

Waiting sucks. Waiting for something to happen. Anything. Waiting for your boys to come back.

Nat had sounded sisterly when she spoke of them. You see them as much more than that. Even if nothing has happened…

Please, let me get out of this so that something can happen.

If they don’t want to make the first move. You’ll have to. But who?

Your ears go into overdrive, trying to catch the sounds of the building around you.

There’s screaming, children crying. The sounds of running. You hear rumbles of thunder in the distance but you’re not sure where Thor might be. He sounds like he’s far away.

If Thor isn’t nearby, is Steve?

The sounds of sirens get closer and closer, grating your fearful nerves.

Something like acid begins to burn in your gut.

Half an hour passes and the longer you’re away from Steve and Thor, the worse this feeling gets.

An instinct pulls at you from the center of your chest. As the sounds of the world go eerily silent, no more screaming, no more sirens, no sounds of Thor, you let that instinct lead you towards the bathroom. You climb into your tub and sit yourself on the far end, facing the door with your gun once again aimed at the entrance.

The smaller confined space gives you some comfort. Not much. Some.

The floor around you begins to shake. The quaking moves the small glass jars of Q-tips and cotton swabs on your counter. Your compact slides along the surface as it rattles then falls and the mirror shatters as it pops open. The small pictures you’d had hung up in your room, the one of you Thor and Steve casually sitting on your sofa beside each other but deliberately not touching probably falls and breaks along with the others.

This mist be what a mild earthquake feels like.

The rumbling stops.

Your breathing grows ragged as your fear reaches up to choke you as that bitter instinct warns you that it’s not over.

You’re about to scream when your restroom explodes around you.

BOOM!

Everything is dust and particles, flying debris, crumbling structure, flying broken tile, smoke, and heat more terrifying than anything you’ve ever felt.

You don’t wanna die.

The ash polluted air keeps you from drawing in more than a ragged, rattling breath. The oxygen burns out of your lungs and then something heavy falls over you. You flatten yourself into your tub as best you can, but your arm is caught, and you desperately pull the memory of two pairs of eyes.

Electric and Storm blue eyes are the last thing you see as your world turns black.

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artificialqueens · 4 years

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I Want to Believe (Branjie) - Athena2

Summary: A believer and a skeptic shouldn’t work. Everything about them clashes. But somehow Vanessa ‘Spooky’ Mateo and Brooke Lynn Hytes manage just fine. (an X-Files au one shot)

A/N: So this is…something. I honestly don’t know what to call it. It’s not inspired by any specific episode of the X-Files, and you don’t need to be familiar with the show to read this. Thank you Writ for betaing and supporting this, you’re the best. I’d really appreciate any feedback you have!

(Now)

Everything about them clashes, but the most obvious is their desks.

Vanessa’s is messy and haphazard. Week—and maybe even month, by the smell of one—old coffee cups are scattered along the surface and obscuring the lone photo on her desk, drops of coffee sticking to her computer keyboard and staining her stacks of newspaper articles, with quotes circled in frantic red pen. Not an inch is clean, even the drawers covered with taped-up newspaper articles and blurry photos, the insides crammed with handwritten accounts and old books of mythical creatures and her chip stash. Everything is urgent—Vanessa works with a breathless passion that moves into her desk, everything she cares about laid bare on the surface for all to see, with the sense that she was working as fast as she could, wanting to find things (find the truth) before it was too late.

Brooke’s is just like her: neat, sparse, and secretive. She wipes the top down each week with Lysol, getting rid of her own coffee remnants. She keeps all her notes in a fancy leather notebook in handwriting so neat it looks typewritten, all her files in alphabetical order in a folder. There’s nothing personal on the top, save one picture. The bottom drawer is where Brooke really is, hidden behind metal like the real Brooke. That’s where she keeps the Snickers bars she sneaks on the sly, where she keeps the plush kitten keychain she likes to smooth her hands over, even the trashy magazines she pretends not to read. Her dedication is there in the notes and files and endless searching, not stopping until she has answers—answers that usually contradict Vanessa’s. Brooke’s own form of truth, but one no less hard-fought for.

A believer and a skeptic. Everything about them clashes. They shouldn’t work. But considering the lone photo on both their desks is the same photo, of them locked in an embrace, they somehow do work.

—-

Two Years Ago (Then)

Spooky Mateo.

They’re transferring Brooke, and gone are her days of a private office with her own secretary, solving high-profile murder cases late into the night.

No, she’s being led down, down, down, deep into the bowels of the FBI building, through freezing halls and over floors that haven’t seen a mop since the Reagan administration, all to receive her new moldy basement office with a woman who’s the butt of nearly every FBI joke.

Vanessa ‘Spooky’ Mateo, so named because of her fascination with the paranormal, supernatural, and general what-the-fuckeries.

Kids missing with no explanation? Mateo was there, insisting some blurry photo contained a UFO. Weird murders with lots of blood loss? There’s Mateo reading vampire lore from an old book. People acting weird? Alien cult, Mateo would claim, citing some obscure news clipping.

“Here you are,” Ariel says, stopping at a door. “Have fun.” She’s gone with a smirk, and Brooke can just imagine the laughing she’ll do upstairs.

Brooke takes a breath and steps inside. It’s just a temporary reassignment. New policy says Mateo has to have a partner, and Brooke got the shaft. A few months down here, tops, and she’ll be back in her clean office with her personal coffee machine and real cases, not aliens, actually using her former doctor knowledge.

The office smells like wet dog and coffee. There’s an empty desk crammed against the wall that must be Brooke’s, and the other desk—at least Brooke thinks it’s a desk and not an abstract art piece of newspapers and coffee cups—is Mateo’s. She’s currently hovering over a newspaper, pen behind her ear, poking into her wavy brown hair, and another in her hand, scribbling notes in the margins. She’s so focused that Brooke has to clear her throat three times before she snaps up like she got shocked.

“You must be Brooke!” Vanessa jumps out of her chair and runs to Brooke, pumping her hand up and down and forcing Brooke to balance her box of desk stuff single-handedly. She’s kind of cute, now that Brooke sees her up close and not walking the opposite way. Her soft brown eyes are wide and passionate, her teeth dazzling in the dim lights, an oversized wool cardigan pulled over her button-down, no doubt to ward off the chill down here.

“That’s me. And you’re Vanessa.”

“Yep! Here’s your desk.” Vanessa nudges her into the corner. “It’s small down here, but not so bad. It does get cold, though. I have an extra jacket if you need it.”

Brooke nods, loosening her white-knuckle grip on her box and brushing layers of dust off the desk. With a little dusting and polishing, it might not be so bad. Oh, who is she kidding. The computer probably hasn’t been turned on in 20 years and her teeth are practically chattering and her chair is held together with duct tape.

She takes another breath and sits. The chair is actually comfortable, a small beacon of hope in this dungeon. Brooke has a better view of Vanessa’s side of the room, and the papers taped to the wall make her head explode, eyes pulled in fifty directions. Pictures of supposed UFO’s. Articles on disappearances, people sharing their alien abduction stories. Blown-up crop circle designs. Pins in a map signifying something Brooke doesn’t know. And right in the center, a poster proclaiming I Want to Believe.

“Look.” Vanessa’s in front of her desk, hands on her hips, looking like a little kid playing tough. “I know they sent you here to babysit me. I know no one believes me. And I know you can’t wait to get outta here. But give me one case before you judge anything. Just one, okay?”

Brooke thinks. She could refuse, march upstairs and demand her old office back. But something in Vanessa’s voice, or her eyes, fiery with determination, makes Brooke pause, something burning in her stomach. Snap judgments are unwise, she knows that. Working here, she has to think critically, look at all the pieces before she assembles them. And Vanessa did offer her a jacket, a kindness Brooke hasn’t seen from anyone else in this building. Brooke doesn’t want to run upstairs complaining like a little kid, either. Knowing her co-workers, they probably have an office pool going on how long she’ll last, and Brooke wants to prove them wrong, cost them some money.

“All right,” Brooke says. “What have you got?”

—-

(Now)

Their clothes are the same, standard uniform, yet still brimming with their differences.

Vanessa wears her suit exactly as she should, with slight modifications. The jacket comes off at her desk, replaced with a worn cardigan that’s soft and cozy like a blanket. Her top two shirt buttons are usually undone, because she didn’t like the collar squeezing her. You’d never doubt she’s FBI from the proud, brash voice she announces herself with, the way she appears much larger than she is, but Vanessa still keeps her badge in her right waist pocket, easy to whip out and proclaim FBI, like people do on TV. Brooke insists on ironing the suit for her, and Vanessa watches, mesmerized, and Brooke brings out sharp lines in the fabric. Vanessa will usually try it on after she’s done, relishing in the warmth, letting Brooke adjust her sleeves and collar and kiss her hands and neck. She’s happy every time that suit wrinkles because it means ironing day, means Brooke’s kisses.

Brooke wears her suit exactly as she should: perfectly pressed, shirt buttons done all the way up, her shoes shiny enough to see your reflection. Her badge is kept in her left breast pocket for easy access, to show people even though her attitude makes it clear she is who she says she is. After years in loose scrubs, she likes the stiffness of the suit, the crisp lines and how it seals her up inside it, feeling safe and important with that suit on. It’s a point of pride for her when she puts it on in the morning. Vanessa’s hands often slip around her chest before she puts her shirt on, clothing Brooke’s bare skin with her warm hands. Vanessa will always say how she loves a woman in a suit, peppering kisses up Brooke’s chest and neck as she buttons the shirt for her. Vanessa’s kisses are another reason she loves the uniform.

—-

(Then)

Vanessa snickers as Brooke grips the door handle.

“Is the big bad agent afraid of my driving?” She teases.

“Not you. Just the road’s so bumpy,” Brooke explains.

It’s true the road is bumpy, flanked by dark woods and endless fields where they’d never find you. They’re past the point of radio signals, to where even Google maps can’t help you if you get lost. There’s a stillness and silence out here she likes, that reminds her of dry, dusty summers as a child, reading about aliens by flashlight.

“You’re not taking me out here to murder me, are you?” Brooke asks feebly.

“I wouldn’t tell you if I was, would I?” Vanessa smiles and to her surprise, Brooke returns it, her face looking like it’s about to crack from the gesture.

Brooke isn’t exactly what Vanessa suspected. Vanessa knows all about her, knows she has a medical degree and was top of her FBI class a year before Vanessa was top of hers. Brooke is good, a rule-follower, but very dedicated. She stays as late as Vanessa to finish a case, genuinely checking on people in the hospital after their case was solved. She’s annoyed with her reassignment, Vanessa can tell, but Brooke is giving her a chance, which is more than she can say of anyone else.

Brooke’s got her nose buried in Vanessa’s notes, biting her lip as she reads. There’s been strange disappearances and reappearances for weeks, with no pattern: a toddler one day, a senior citizen the next, college kids and preteens following. All were gone for a few hours and woke up in their rooms with no memory beyond flashing lights and strange faces—hallmarks of extraterrestrial abductions, things Vanessa’s studied for years. Vanessa hasn’t found any leads, but a woman contacted her, believing she knows where the next disappearance will happen.

Even Vanessa treads lightly with psychics—it’s an easy thing to fake, if you do research or have excellent deduction skills—but the woman’s phone call had been desperate, begging Vanessa to visit before another disappearance happened.

Brooke looks up from the notes. “So,” she begins skeptically, “this woman thinks she knows where the next event will happen?”

“Yes. Says she’s been having visions and realized they matched the disappearances on the news.”

Brooke scoffs.

“Guessing you never had your palm read or anything?” Vanessa asks.

“It’s all fake. They look through your bag or something, or pick something so generic it can’t be wrong.”

Vanessa sighs. Brooke’s not entirely wrong, but with a stubbornness Vanessa might struggle with. She’s not trying to turn Brooke into a full believer like her, but some acknowledgement that weird shit just happens, no explanation, would be nice.

“A lot of them are fake, yeah,” Vanessa admits. “But sometimes they’re not. One time a psychic told me something my mom always says, word for word. There’s no way she could have known. Another told me my notebook was in the fridge, and it was, I dropped it without knowing. And another time—“

“But those are the exceptions,” Brooke insists. “The majority are fake, or just lucky guessers. There’s always a scientific explanation.”

“I’m not saying science is fake and don’t vaccinate your kids, Mary!” Vanessa exclaims to a sheepish chuckle from Brooke. “All I’m saying is that some stuff can’t be explained. It can’t.”

“Yeah, but I can’t write ‘unexplained’ in someone’s report. There has to be something real to write.”

Brooke’s clinging to her orderly worldview, not that Vanessa can blame her for that. Who would question everything that’s so solid and real to them? Brooke’s a hard nut to crack, but Vanessa has a feeling that what’s inside will be worth the effort.

“But you have to admit that unexplained fits sometimes. Weird markings on people’s bodies with no other injuries. Disappearances with no other explanations. Photos of creatures—“

“Those can be faked.”

“But sometimes, Brooke, just sometimes, weird things happen and you can’t explain them.” If she can convince Brooke of this, she’ll consider it a win. Someone to at least try to understand her, to acknowledge that her years of research have merit. This has been her life for years, trying to find proof of what others wouldn’t consider.

“Maybe.”

Vanessa turns into the woman’s driveway so hard Brooke slams against the door.

“Sorry.”

“I’m good,” Brooke says.

Vanessa’s not one for stereotypes, but the cottage before them…well, it could definitely be used as a set for a witch house in some horror movie. Rows of plants curl toward them along the path, ready to pull them into the soil. The circular windows watch them like eyes, following every move. Jagged wooden steps like broken teeth lead up to a crooked, scratched purple door that Vanessa knocks, vowing to show no fear in front of Brooke.

The woman who answers is younger and prettier than Vanessa expected, not a wart or frog or crooked finger in sight.

“Vanessa Mateo, FBI—“

“—Brooke Lynn Hytes, FBI.”

She and Brooke turn to each other, wondering why they didn’t sort out who would speak first.

“First day working together, I see,” the woman says. “I’m Scarlet. Come on in.”

Vanessa sticks her tongue out at Brooke and they step inside.

“Tea?” Scarlet offers. “The water should be ready. I’ve got green tea and berry tea aside, I knew you were coming.”

Brooke stiffens beside her. Vanessa’s favorite is berry tea, and she’s guessing from Brooke’s pale yet composed face that green tea is hers.

She elbows Brooke playfully as they sit.

“Lucky guess,” Brooke whispers.

Scarlet puts the mugs in front of them and fidgets in her seat.

“Is this gonna be like an interrogation?” she asks fearfully.

“No,” Vanessa soothes. “Don’t you worry, you’re not in trouble at all. We just wanna hear about your visions, okay?”

Scarlet nods, and Brooke pulls out her notes.

“Whenever you’re ready,” Brooke says. Her tone is calm and even, not stressing Scarlet, and it’s a point of approval for Brooke in Vanessa’s book. So many people would have demanded answers or spooked Scarlet, but Brooke is surprisingly gentle even if skeptical.

“I’ve always seen stuff,” Scarlet begins. “Knew when my grandma was coming over, knew my birthday present before I opened it. But the last few months I’ve been having these dreams. There’s flashing lights and numbers and these big dark smudges in the sky. I didn’t think anything of it till Yvie–she’s my girlfriend–had the news on, and the house number where one of the disappearances happened matched a number in my dream. And they’ve all matched since then. Except one. The most recent one. I think it’s where the next disappearance is gonna be, and it’s tonight. I can feel it.”

The only sound is the scratching of Brooke’s pen. Vanessa is riveted in her seat. Flashing lights and dark smudges are very promising signs, a hint that this is beyond the natural world, like she thought.

“What’s the number?” Vanessa asks.

“256. It’s a green house with white shutters. Morning-something Lane is the street name. That’s all I saw.” She pauses, looks at them in concern. “Will that help?”

“It helps a lot,” Vanessa assures her, and it does. They have the day to find this house, and with Scarlet’s tip, it shouldn’t be so hard. They can stop another person from disappearing, and there’s a new spring in Vanessa’s step as they thank Scarlet and head outside.

“So,” Brooke prompts.

“So.” Vanessa’s not going to gloat about Scarlet, but she’s not giving an inch either.

Brooke sighs. “Well, we need to find the house and get the people out. Tell them there’s a gas leak or something so they’ll listen. Problem solved.”

Vanessa nods, because that was her plan too. Except for one thing. “Well…”

“Well what?” Brooke demands, and the tiny crease in her forehead is almost cute, proves that her perfect face is very human.

“Get the people out, yes. But I want to watch the house tonight. I want to see if anything happens. And I want you to come with me.”

—-

(Now)

Bedtime is Vanessa’s favorite thing with Brooke. It was something they used to do differently, something Brooke changed to help Vanessa sleep better. Vanessa used to hate sleeping, would bury herself in work until she passed out at the kitchen table. She’s always afraid of the dreams. Dreams of all the things that happened when she was little, crying into her blankets because no one believed her. She burrows into the mattress when she sleeps, blankets snug around her like it will keep the dreams from exploding out. With Brooke, she doesn’t have to be scared. She snuggles against Brooke, Brooke’s arm secure around her, holding her down. When she does have the dreams, when she mumbles into her pillow and cries out in her sleep, Brooke is there, gently kissing the back of her neck and telling her it’s all okay, she’s there and won’t let anything hurt her. She’s never slept as well as she does with Brooke.

Brooke was never one for sharing a bed. She liked to sprawl out on her mattress, tug all the blankets over her, roll over and not have to worry about hitting anyone. She could sleep with files and notes littering the sheets and no one would care. But with Vanessa, bedtime has become something special. Brooke sprays their pillows with a calming lavender spray she thought might help Vanessa sleep. She usually tucks Vanessa in and then slips behind her, holding her close. Brooke never craved another person against her chest while she sleeps, but she can’t imagine sleeping without Vanessa there now. And when Vanessa thrashes against her, whimpering in her sleep, Brooke does all she can to keep Vanessa together and calm her down. She’s never slept as well as she does with Vanessa.

—

(Then)

256 Morning Bird Lane is in the middle of nowhere, because of course it is.

“Can’t these aliens ever land in a city?” Brooke complains. “At least near a freaking grocery store or some sign of civilization.”

The emptiness is making her uneasy. She and Vanessa are parked in some lot across the street from the house, and there is literally nothing for miles. Brooke’s a city girl. She likes trying new restaurants every week and having hundreds of grocery stores to choose from and never being far from a hospital should disaster strike. She likes knowing there are people around, even if she appreciates the anonymity from those people that a large city grants her. Sure, people suck when they smash into her on the subway during her commute or hold up the line arguing over coupons, but at least they were there. There’s nothing like that here, no glow of city lights or hum of cars, no knowledge that people are nearby, living lives as complicated as yours. There’s nothing but trees and darkness and silence, and the hair on Brooke’s neck is standing up at the thought. She’s grateful Vanessa is here with her, to save her from the abyss of silent solitude.

“So you do think it’s aliens,” Vanessa challenges.

“Absolutely not. I don’t care if Jabba the fucking Hutt himself drops out of the sky. I just can’t wait to get out of here.”

Vanessa shrugs. “We lived out in the country when I was little before we moved. It’s not so bad. And I brought snacks if you’re hungry, y’know.”

“I’m fin–are those Snickers?”

“Yeah.”

Brooke reaches in Vanessa’s bag and pulls one out, letting chocolate and peanuts fill her mouth. At least she has candy, a reminder of the city vending machines and check-out counters that await her.

“Scarlet told me they’re your favorite.”

Brooke’s heart stops. “You’re shitting me.”

Vanessa tries to keep a straight face, but she caves with a mighty laugh. “Yeah, I’m kidding. I just grabbed ‘em because they’re my favorite too.”

“Oh.” Snickers are Vanessa’s favorite candy. It’s a pointless fact, no value in knowing it. But it feels important to Brooke somehow, like it’s a part of Vanessa uncovered. What is a person, really, other than a collection of things they love? Christ, this middle-of-nowhere shit is making her philosophical. Soon she’ll notice how gorgeous Vanessa looks in the moonlight.

They eat their candy and lapse into silence.

“What made you join the bureau?” Vanessa asks.

“I started doing medical consulting with them a few years ago. Then the bureau offered me a full position, working cases and helping with the medical stuff. Said they’d pay off my med school loans and my bureau training fees, and I was in so much debt after med school it seemed like a good idea.”

She’s always wanted to help people. Brooke had gone into medicine for that reason, to help people and give them better lives. An old mentor of hers from med school recommended Brooke as an FBI consultant, and she answered questions about murders and injuries for stony-faced, black-suited agents. She couldn’t help but hope they’d show up every day, bring her a big case to help with, bring a killer to justice and prevent more people from being hurt. Bring her excitement she didn’t know she was missing. Her life as a doctor wasn’t boring, but when she heard the FBI was coming it gave her a thrill like nothing else. When they offered her the job, she realized all she wanted was to be part of that world, to be one of them instead of their consultant.

She doesn’t tell any of this to Vanessa, though. What’s the point? This should just be a few months of partnership. No need to bare her soul to Spooky Mateo.

She’s not quite as spooky as Brooke thought, though. She’s almost sweet, soothing Scarlet and packing stakeout snacks. There’s a bravery in her, the way she marched up to Scarlet’s house without an ounce of fear. Vanessa’s a fighter, Brooke can see all the traits she herself carries present in Vanessa, in her determination to keep going and boldness to just go after what she wants because there’s no other way she’ll get it.

“Well, I’m glad you joined,” Vanessa says. “It’s kinda nice to have you here.”

“Just kinda nice?” Brooke teases.

“Yeah.”

Brooke snorts against her will. “How did you join the FBI?”

Vanessa smirks. “You wondering how Spooky Mateo ended up here, aren’t ya?”

“Maybe a little.” Brooke’s grateful the darkness hides her burning cheeks.

“I don’t blame you.” Vanessa shrugs. “I just wanted to help people, really. People who don’t get listened to.” She takes a breath. “When I was little, weird shit always happened. Flashing lights and dark things in the sky. Weird shadows in my room. Sometimes my toys would move around on the shelves. One night I swear I saw some sort of creature. Something not natural. Everyone said it was my imagination, but it was real. My parents dragged me to all these doctors, and eventually they decided moving to the city might help. The things stopped happening after that, but I never forgot them. And that’s what I wanted to investigate. Stuff you couldn’t explain.”

She really does believe what she’s saying. Brooke’s interviewed enough people to recognize honesty. But can Brooke believe her? Her rational side kicks in. Boredom in the country could have caused Vanessa’s overactive imagination, which calmed down with the city’s stimulation. It makes sense. But Vanessa shaped her entire life and career around those events. She wants to find the truth, and Brooke respects her for it, even if that truth isn’t hers.

“You don’t have to believe me,” Vanessa says. “But that’s why.”

“I–” Brooke freezes when the time on the car dash crosses her vision. It can’t be right, it can’t be. She checks her watch. No no no. “Vanessa?”

“Yeah?”

“The last time I checked the clock, it was 10:51. I know it.” Brooke swallows hard and points to the time now.

10:43.

“Shit,” Vanessa breathes.

Brooke blinks, and the time flickers to 10:51. Maybe it was her imagination–there’s a sudden gust of wind, enough to make the car shake. The dashboard lights blink on and off, the car headlights throwing light all over then fading into darkness.

“Vanessa!” Brooke yells over the howling wind, but no answer. Brooke closes her eyes against the blinding lights, can’t see Vanessa beside her.

The radio switches on despite having no signal, classic rock and then pop and then something unintelligible blasting through the speakers and rattling the windows. The bottles in the cupholder shake in place, liquids bouncing all over the plastic. There’s a loud whirring sound above them, a black shape blocking out the moon and throwing beams of light that bounce off the house across the street before vanishing all at once.

The clock changes to 10:52.

Brooke’s chest burns as she takes her first breath in she doesn’t know how long. Her knees are up against her chest to protect her, and her sweaty, tense hand is currently being squeezed by Vanessa, who is in the middle console of the car, half-in Brooke’s lap. Vanessa’s hand is soft and warm, her body solid and soothing against her, and Brooke is almost sad when she lets go and shifts into the driver’s seat.

“What the fuck was that?” Brooke demands, still trying to get her breathing under control.

“I don’t–” Vanessa’s chest heaves as she draws in air “–I don’t know. But it had to be the cause of the disappearances. Just like Scarlet said. Some kind of space–”

“Don’t say spaceship.” Brooke’s rational brain churns to life, trying to turn what she’s seen into something real, something concrete and logical. Something that makes sense. “It was–it was probably a helicopter.”

“That was no fucking helicopter and you know it! Electrical disturbances, time malfunctioning, they’re all signs of extraterrestrial activity.”

“No, okay? No! There’s some logical explanation, and that was not some alien ship here to abduct someone.”

“I was right! You know I am!”

Vanessa takes a breath, and the silence fills the car to bursting. Brooke can’t do this anymore. Her mind is reeling and the argument is taking more energy than she has.

“Look, can we just go? I don’t want to be here anymore.” Brooke’s voice comes out smaller than she intends, and it softens the anger on Vanessa’s face.

“Yeah,” Vanessa agrees. “Let’s go.”

Vanessa reaches into the cupholder for her drink at the same time as Brooke and their heads smack into each other.

“Ow, shit!”

“What the hell kind of blockhead you got?”

The next thing Brooke knows, they’re laughing. Laughing to stay sane after what happened, to cling to each other, to go back to normal, even if that normal may not fit Brooke’s definition anymore. It’s the perfect thing to break the tension, and when Brooke locks eyes with Vanessa, the brown wide and soft before her, she wonders if this was meant to happen. If there is something beyond this universe, something bringing them together.

“What did you say before? About unexplained stuff?”

“Sometimes things just happen and you can’t explain them.”

“Yeah,” Brooke says.

And then they’re both leaning in, and the kiss defies explanation. Brooke’s lips melt against Vanessa’s, their hearts still racing and speeding up even more at their touches. Brooke rests one hand on Vanessa’s shoulder and the other on her thigh, two points of contact to ground her, prove that they’re both here, doing this. Vanessa is intoxicating, burying her hands in Brooke’s hair and pulling her closer, until their chests are touching and Brooke’s knee is against the gear shift but she doesn’t even feel it. It’s just them here, just them kissing, and when she pulls back Brooke thinks of Vanessa’s poster and knows that if she believes in anything, it’s Vanessa.

—-

(Now)

“Wanna get pizza tonight?” Vanessa asks.

“I kinda want burritos,” Brooke says sheepishly, and Vanessa rolls her eyes.

“Pizza tonight and burritos this weekend?” Brooke suggests.

Vanessa nods. The compromising is something she’s gotten used to, working together on things while accepting they still have their differences.

It’s been two years since Brooke was transferred down here, two years of taking cases no one thinks twice about and helping people the best they can. Two years of being partners at work and almost two years of being partners at home, of trying to cook and cuddling on the couch and sleeping together, making even things like grocery shopping and cleaning fun as long as they’re together.

Even if Brooke fights tooth and nail to scientifically explain everything, and Vanessa pushes for unconventional ideas, to consider paranormal events, they’ve still managed all these years. They work together perfectly, their ideas and methods often meeting in the middle. Vanessa’s odd sources getting them a real lead that Brooke’s formalities couldn’t. Brooke’s medical knowledge saving someone Vanessa would have thought gone. She knows Brooke doesn’t always believe, and that’s okay.

Because Vanessa believes in her, believes in them, and as Brooke takes her hand as they head out of the office, she knows Brooke believes too.

#rpdr fanfiction #brooke lynn hytes #vanessa vanjie mateo #scarlet envy #branjie #lesbian au #x-files au #paranormal au #athena2 #concrit welcome #submission #s11

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