#they better as well I didn’t melt wax for nothing | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

katyswrites · 8 months

Text

don't call me 'baby'

PART 10 | SERIES

Pairing: Steve Harrington/fem!reader

Warnings: Sugardaddy!Steve, SMUT (18+), angst, mentions of pregnancy/a pregnancy scare, mentions of food and alcohol, unprotected p in v, daddy kink, oral sex (f receiving), creampie, ddlg dynamics, swearing, alcohol use, smoking, age gap, no use of y/n

Wordcount: 10.4K

A sugar daddy modern AU, a whirlwind summer romance in Italy, and two people from completely different walks of life, somehow finding each other in one of the most beautiful cities in the world. But, what will happen when summer ends?

PART 10 | meet me in the afterglow

FOUR MONTHS LATER

Your walk to work was chilly enough to warrant a coat. That was perhaps the thing you missed least about home in the U.S. - even though the winters certainly got cold here, it was nowhere near the sub-zero temperatures you had grown up with during the coldest time of year. Maybe the only thing you missed was snow - in all of your time living here, you had only gotten a brief dusting once, and it had melted by the following day.

Still, a week out from Christmas, you now needed to wrap something warm around yourself as you walked down the street, heading closer to the city center as your shift was due to start.

You were technically two minutes late to your shift, the coffee shop busy enough to have a line going out the door when you arrived. Yet, your manager Francesco said nothing - a small spark of joy in your day.

You didn’t necessarily need to go back to work - Steve’s money had yet to run out. But, you felt good about earning your own money - and, the less you had to draw on his remaining funds, the less you had to think about him.

You hadn’t seen or spoken to Steve since the night of your argument. Well, that was only partially true - you had received one piece of communication from him. It came a few days later - you had been moping in your apartment, having barely left your room for days, when an envelope arrived. It had his familiar writing and wax seal, with another wad of cash and a letter made out to you:

I promise this is the last you’ll hear from me. I am a man of my word, so I promise to help provide for you until you’re finished with school. I’ll be transferring enough money to your account to cover all of your expenses, so no need to worry about your rent, food, anything of the sort… I really do want you to be able to focus on school, okay? So, please don’t protest, or try to send the money back. Please feel free to use the credit card if you need to.

I’m sorry it ended this way. We both knew it was going to, but I apologize if I said anything out of line the other night. I truly do wish you the best.

Take care,

Steve

Reading it had been a punch to the gut. The formality of it, the finality of it… you would’ve rather that you never heard from him again. You had stashed the letter in a box under your bed, and not looked at it since.

A few weeks after that, you had pregnancy scare. It was silly, really - but, your period was late, and if was the first conclusion your mind had jumped to. You had called Robin in a panic, begging her to come home - she did, with four different brands of pregnancy tests. Those 15 minutes of waiting for results were the most agonizing of your life - then, upon seeing them all negative, you fell to your knees and burst into tears.

“It’s okay,” Robin had cooed, rubbing soothing circles on your back. “You’re good it was a false alarm - you’re probably just late because of stress -”

“I know,” you sobbed. “I just -”

“What is it?”

You then had sat up, chest heaving as you sobbed.

“He’s really gone isn’t he?”

Robin held you in her arms that night as you cried yourself to sleep.

To your knowledge now, he had gone back to the U.S. - was he still in Chicago? Or, did he go back to New York? You realized it was better for you to not ask these questions, or to think of him at all. As the weeks had turned into months, you found yourself thinking of him a little less each day - but you still thought of him. You saw him in the passersby as you walked down the street, in every car window, in every businessman walking through the door to order a coffee. Sometimes, you’d hear a laugh, or get a brief whiff of cigarette smoke, and swear it was him. But it never was - it never would be again.

The days had dragged on, but luckily, you often found yourself too busy to dwell too much on thoughts of Steve. Between work and school, your plate was pretty full. With graduation in mere weeks, you had spent the entire term studying and working on your thesis. Steve’s remaining money, at least, allowed you to work far less hours than you had before - a small blessing, you supposed.

The day was moving pretty quickly, the morning rush busy enough that two hours flew by without much notice. It was only during the afternoon lull that you found yourself able to look up from the espresso machine - only to lock eyes with a familiar face through the window.

Eddie smiled back at you, waving. You couldn’t help but grin, and beckoned him to come inside. He bounded through the glass doors, bursting into the coffee shop with the infectious, chaotic energy he always carries with him.

“Bella, how are you?” he asked, leaning over the counter with a big grin.

“I’m okay,” you said, shrugging.

He raised an eyebrow.

“Just okay?”

“Oh well - you know, a bit stressed with the end of term and all. But, that’ll all be over soon.”

“I’m almost done, too - just finishing up my exams, all of that nonsense.”

“Do you have someone for your thesis?”

You nodded. “Professor Hopper - he’s always had a soft spot for me,” you said, smiling fondly, thinking of the seemingly-gruff.

“I have Clarke - I don’t actually know how much he knows about photography, he teaches chemistry for godsake, but apparently it’s a hobby or something, so he’ll sign off on whatever I do,” Eddie said, laughing.

“Oh! I forgot to tell you - I actually have my own studio space now.”

“What? Eddie, that’s amazing!”

He grinned. “Thanks - I mean, I’m still technically freelance, but I’m hoping once I’m fully graduated more work will start coming in. But for now, I don’t mind having some spare time to practice with the band.”

You did your best to stop yourself from rolling your eyes.

“Right - don’t forget me when you make it as a big rockstar, Eddie.”

He let out a hearty laugh at that, the infectious kind that had you joining in - you hadn’t laughed like that in quite some time.

“You know, you should come by later to check it out,” Eddie said. “I mean, if you want -”

You thought for a moment, then nodded.

“Sure, why not - I get off in about a half hour -”

“Perfect,” he cried, clapping his hands together. “I’ll just wait around then - and, uh, can I get an espresso? Since I’m already here and all.”

You rolled your eyes, fighting a smile.

“Yeah, sure thing Munson - I’ll take my sweet time with it, just for you.”

The end of your shift flew by, and soon enough you were pulling off your apron, linking your arm in Eddie’s as he led you out the door and through the city.

The studio, as it turned out, was only a few blocks away. The space was small, but nice - a big glass storefront allowed plenty of light in, even with the fading sun, indicative of the short days of winter. Some of Eddie’s work hung framed on the walls - city scenes, candids of people on the street, bands in action at his favorite club… and even a few of you, from the project you posed for a few years ago.

“Wow - this is amazing, Eddie!” you exclaimed, glancing around the studio with genuine pride for your friend. You knew this was always the goal for him, what he always wanted to do.

“Grazie mille,” he said, beaming.

“Do you have anything lined up?”

He nodded.

“Some - nothing too interesting. A few weddings, graduation photoshoots, things like that. Oh, do you want to see the photo lab?”

You let him lead the way into the back room, passing through a dimly-lit room with machines and equipment that you were sure you had no idea how to use. Newly developed photos were hanging around on clothespins, or spread across the table in the middle.

“Back there is the darkroom,” Eddie said, gesturing to a small door on the other side of the room. “But yeah, this is where the magic happens.”

“You develop all your pictures this way?” you asked, examining a few laid across the table.

He shook his head. “Not exactly - only the stuff I shoot on film. A lot of what I do is digital, and I edit that on my computer but… I really do love shooting film. I only really do that for specific things. Oh, which reminds me!”

He turned his back to you, rummaging through a filing cabinet until he produced a large manila envelope, extending it to you. You furrowed your brow, confused. You turned it to examine it properly - the only thing written on it was your name and a date, in Eddie’s telltale scrawl.

“What -”

“It’s those pictures I owe you, from your birthday party - sorry, it took me a while to get around to developing them.”

Oh.

“Oh,” you said quietly, gripping the envelope a bit tighter. “Uh, thanks - that was really nice of you, Eddie.”

You were still staring down at the parcel in your hands, your hands shaking a bit - you had completely forgotten that Eddie had been taking pictures all night. Most likely because you had been a bit distracted at the time. But now…

“I think they turned out pretty nice, if you ask me,” Eddie said. “But, you can be the judge of that yourself.”

You pressed your mouth into a tight line, nearly feigning a smile as you finally met his eyes again. He was looking back expectantly, and you realized he wanted you to look at them now.

“Oh, yeah,” you mumbled. “I guess I’ll just -”

You opened it up, sliding out the stack of photos - they were slightly bigger than the ones you had seen from a digital camera, on a beautiful matte paper that you knew must have not been cheap. This, you realized, was Eddie’s belated birthday gift to you.

You thumbed through the pictures - the first few were just candids of your friends on the dancefloor, or deep in conversation around the bar. There were a few of you and Robin, arms thrown around each other and smiling ear-to-ear.

There were quite a few solo shots of you, raising a glass to the camera, mid-laugh, or dancing - somehow, he had made it look like you truly were the center of attention, as if to tell people this is who we were there for!

You couldn’t help but smile to yourself, laughing quietly at a few of the shots, including one of Robin flipping off the camera as she kisses Vickie. Then, your smile dropped, because there he was.

Steve, looking as handsome as you remembered, but somehow also a stranger, or like a figment of your imagination. Somehow, a small part of your subconscious had convinced you over the last few months that perhaps he wasn’t real, a true figment of your imagination that had been too good to be true. But there he was, large as life, his arm wrapped around you as you smiled into the camera. You were smiling in his arms, a girl completely unrecognizable in some ways. In another photo, he’s pressing a kiss to your cheek as you laugh - you remembered that one being taken, that’s for sure. You gently trailed your fingers across the picture, as if you were hoping to reach in and pull that happy girl out, just to shake a bit of sense into her. You didn’t even realize you were crying until a fat wet teardrop his the page, rolling down and off the edge.

“Whoa - are you alright?” Eddie asked, his voice tinged with worry.

You jumped, having nearly forgotten that he was there at all. How long had you been staring at the pictures of Steve? For a few minutes, or hours? There was no way to know.

“Yeah, I’m good,” you said, the thickness in your voice betraying you. You pressed the heels of your hands under your eyes, willing the gentle tears to stop, sniffling.

“What’s wrong?” Eddie asked softly.

You laughed dryly, more hot tears welling up as you did.

“Nothing! I - they’re beautiful, Eddie. Really - thank you. You - you’ve really got a talent.”

Your voice wobbled a bit at the end, and you sniffled.

“I’m sorry, I - it’s nothing to do with you,” you assured him. “I just - I’ve been having a hard time lately.”

Eddie cocked his head, confused. Then, his eyes flitted down to the picture in your hands.

“Oh - I’m sorry, I - is this about him?” Eddie asked quietly, gesturing to the photos. You just nodded, avoiding his gaze again as you stuffed them back into the envelope.

“I didn’t know you two had broken up, I’m sorry -”

“We didn’t break up!” you snapped, harsher than intended. “Fuck, I - sorry, that came out wrong. We didn’t break up, because we were never exactly together. It’s just complicated.”

Eddie furrowed his brow. “Yeah, okay - well, I’m sorry to hear about your not-breakup. I guess I’m just a little surprised.”

“Why’s that?” you asked.

He shrugged. “I spent a long time looking at all of those when I was developing them - you know how they say pictures tell a thousand words?”

You nodded.

“Well - I take pictures of a lot of couples - weddings, engagement shoots, all of that… and I’ve never seen two people more in love than you two.”

You felt your chest tighten - maybe you were being a lovesick idiot at your party, but Steve?

You shook your head. “No - Eddie, it… it wasn’t like that. I can promise you that.”

Steve made that perfectly clear.

Eddie shrugged again. “I’m just telling you what I observed, that’s all.”

“Well maybe you should mind your business,” you grumbled.

Fuck. You shouldn’t have said that.

Eddie’s face fell a bit, and he slowly took a step back, hands shoved in his pockets.

“My apologies,” he whispered. He was hurt, that much was obvious. You mentally kicked yourself.

“No Eddie - I’m sorry, I didn’t -”

You sighed, frustrated.

“Things have been, like, really weird the last few months and… it doesn’t matter.”

“I could tell,” he said, voice quiet. “You’ve been.. Distant.”

You nodded, the awkwardness filling the space between you two. You had fucked this up too, somehow.

“So,” you said, clearing your throat. “Uh, it’s getting late, and dark… I probably should head home.”

“Yeah, okay - good idea, I have some stuff to work on anyway.”

You both nodded, avoiding eye contact as you both headed out back into the studio.

It wasn’t until you were at the door that you turned to face Eddie again.

“The place really is beautiful… I’m proud of you,” you said sincerely. He offered a small smile in return.

“Thanks.”

“I also - the pictures are beautiful. Thank you for these, I - they’re great.”

“I’m sorry if they -”

“Don’t apologize,” you said firmly. “They’re great - you’ve really got a gift, you know.”

You could tell Eddie was fighting a real smile, a small win in your book.

“C’mon, you know my ego’s just fine on its own.”

You laughed, and without thinking, pulled him into a tight hug.

“I’m sorry I lost it a little earlier,” you whispered.

“It’s alright,” he said, pulling away. “Heartbreak is funny like that.”

You decided not to bother protesting his assessment this time, too tired to start a fight again just to feel something.

“Right, okay.”

“Are you sure you don’t want me to take out the photos with… him?” Eddie asked, gesturing down to the envelope.

“No, that’s alright - I’m a big girl, I can go through them. I’m definitely going to hang a few of these up though, so thanks again.”

“Take good care of yourself darling, alright? And come by any time - for any reason.”

It was an olive branch, an assurance that things were okay. You forced a smile, nodding.

“Thanks, Eddie - you’re a great friend, you know.”

You bid your farewells, and left the studio with a strange feeling settling within you. You pulled your coat a little tighter around you, stuffing the envelope underneath as you charged through the chilly evening air to the nearest bus stop.

You didn’t get home until nearly 6pm, the winter sky fully dark by then. By the time you walked a few blocks and up the stairs to your apartment, your face was stinging from the cold, the wind picking up more since that afternoon.

Robin was on the couch, a rerun of Friends playing on the TV.

“Hey! You’re back kind of late,” she remarked.

“Yeah - I ran into Eddie, funnily enough,” you replied, hoping you sounded nonchalant.

“Oh really? How is he? I miss him - we should really make a plan to hang out with him soon -”

“Yeah, for sure,” you said, kicking off your shoes and hanging your coat on the rack. “He’s good - I saw his new studio, it’s nice.”

“Oh, no way! That’s great - I need to go sometime -”

“Yeah, totally,” you said, absentminded. “Uh, I’ve got some stuff to do, but I’ll be out here later -”

“Maybe we can get takeout or something -”

“Yeah, perfect -” you tittered, closing your bedroom door behind you, eyes on the envelope in your hands.

You bit your lip, debating what to do. Part of you considered finding all of the pictures of Steve, and burning them. But, that felt a bit dramatic. You pulled out the stack again, sifting through until you found the shots of him. You couldn’t help but smile, looking at how happy the girl in the photos was - if only she knew how quickly things would fall apart that night. The photo of Steve kissing you cheek was your favorite - it was just full of pure, unbridled joy. The one after that was the one you stared at for quite some time, though. You were looking into the camera, grinning widely. Steve, however, wasn’t - no, he was looking at you. You stared at him for quite some time - and remembered Eddie’s words.

I’ve never seen two people more in love than you two.

You had thought it was crazy - but, in the picture, Steve was looking at you like you’d hung the stars. Like, if he didn’t have you, he’d be lost. He was looking at you with eyes full of love - you just hadn’t been looking.

You gasped, realizing what Eddie had seen that you couldn’t - maybe everything had meant more to Steve than he had let on. No, that was crazy - wasn’t it?

What happened next didn’t have much explanation - it was probably crazy. You found yourself Googling Steve’s company headquarters in Chicago - it couldn’t be this easy, could it? But it was.

A quick call through the directory brought you to his secretary, a bubbly woman who was more than happy to help. You pretended to be the secretary of a business partner you had remembered Steve mentioning, saying how you wanted to send a thank-you gift - it had been too easy to get his home address, really. And, a confirmation that he was back in Chicago.

The next morning, you sent out an envelope, sticking on international postage. You debated not putting your name on the return address, but ultimately decided to include it - he’d recognize the address anyway. When you dropped it at the post office, you walked away feeling a sense of relief - and, perhaps, just a bit unhinged. TIme would tell if anything came of it. But, at the very least, it felt like finally closing the chapter of your life that had been defined by Steve Harrington. And, that was a good thing… right?

********

The day before Christmas Eve, you received great news: confirmation that you had passed all of your exams, your thesis receiving glowing feedback from the professors in your department. Your degree, which studied Art History and Travel and Tourism Management, meant that you would actually be able to stay here - you hoped to work in tourism in some way right here in Rome, or perhaps work in one of the city’s many museums - being bilingual would help, and more importantly, it meant you never had to set foot back in the United States again, if you didn’t want.

Christmas brought its usual cheer and celebration, complete with mulled wine and a potluck dinner you and Robin held for some of the other foreign students you were friendly with, knowing they didn’t have families to go to for the holidays. Your graduation only brought extra festivities, including a speech prepared by Robin given as a toast at dinner, saying how proud she was of you (and, how jealous she was that you didn’t have to worry about schoolwork anymore). It was silly yet sincere enough to make you tear up and pull her into a big hug. Eddie and Jonathan even swung by for a bit, joining in on the celebration until the wee hours of the morning. Robin and Vickie were all over each otherYou ate and drank to your heart’s content before stumbling to bed, leaving cleanup in the kitchen for the morning.

The morning of Boxing Day, it turned out, was actually the afternoon, with you and Robin oversleeping. You, to your own relief, felt tired, but not too hungover - the same couldn’t be said for Robin and Vickie, who stumbled into the kitchen with grimaces on their faces and grumbles as a greeting.

You spent most of the day cleaning up from the last two days’ festivities, washing dishes and clearing away wrapping paper, wiping countertops and vacuuming just enough until your home felt semi-in order.

You were still in your pajamas as it was getting dark again in the evening, a rarity these days. When Robin said she was heading out to dinner with Vickie and likely would be staying at her place that night, you bid her farewell, looking forward to some time alone to fully relax and unwind.

It was several hours later, after scrounging together a dinner of Christmas leftovers and half-dozing on the couch while a movie played, that your doorbell rang. You sat up with a start, your heart jumping at the unexpected intrusion. You stumbled to the door, grumbling about who could possibly be here at this hour - maybe Robin decided to come back after all, and got locked out again? You were ready to playfully ridicule her when you opened the door. But when you saw who was standing on the other side, you froze.

Steve Harrington was there on your doorstep, barely illuminated in the dim light. His chest was heaving, his hair just a bit disheveled. His eyes widened when he saw you, and you imagined you did the same. Your heart plummeted to your stomach at the sight of him, so real and alive in front of you. Were you dreaming? Was this some sick prank?

Neither of you said anything for a moment, two mouths hanging open, searching for the words.

“It’s Christmas,” you blurted out, the first words you’ve said to him in over four months.

“It’s December 26th,” he replied, simply and casually.

“I - well, it’s still a holiday, kind of.”

“Yeah, I know - do you know how hard it is to catch a last-minute flight on Christmas?”

You just stood there in the doorway, unable to think of anything else to say - what the fuck?

“What are you doing here?” you asked, words biting. You were lashing out a bit, but you didn’t care - this moment right now reminded you of a similar one over the summer, when he came to your doorstep to explain how he wasn’t engaged. What was his excuse now?

“Why did you send me this?” he asked, holding up a familiar envelope - the photo.

Why did you? You weren’t certain of that answer yourself. So, you went with the first explanation that came to your head.

“It’s a good picture of you,” you said quietly.

He rolled his eyes.

“Do not - I don’t hear from you for months, then I get this in the mail - on Christmas Eve, mind you -”

“I’m sorry, were you supposed to hear from me?”

“I don’t know!” he cried. “Maybe?”

You scoffed. “You can’t be serious - you made it very clear that you never wanted to see me again.”

“I - what?”

“I wish you well? Take care? We ended things, Steve - what else was I meant to think?”

He sighed, his shoulders sagging.

“I don’t know. I guess part of me - it doesn’t matter. But, what am I supposed to make of this?” he asks, waving the envelope.

“I - Eddie gave me a bunch of pictures he took at my birthday party… I thought maybe you’d want that one.”

He took a tentative step closer towards you, gauging your reaction. You held your ground, not breaking eye contact.

“Is that the only reason?” he asked, voice low.

You felt your heartbeat quicken, your palms clammy - he really was just so handsome. Still, there was something so boyish about him, something that reminded you of why you fell for him in the first place. He had cut his hair a bit, his summer tan faded - and he looked tired. Then again, you probably did too - you suddenly became conscious of the fact that you were in your pajamas, still looking like you had just woken up - you wished you could disappear, never to be perceived again.

“Yeah,” you whispered. “The only reason.”

He was close enough now that you could see his Adam’s Apple bob as he gulped, his eyes glancing up and down your form as he took a deep breath.

“Tell me that, when you sent this, there wasn’t at least a small part of you that hoped I’d respond - that, when you sent this, you hoped I’d call, or show up here. If there wasn’t, I’ll walk away right now, and you’ll never have to see me again.”

There it was - everything laid out on the table. So much was still unsaid - but, it was obvious that he also had been hurting the last few months, that he didn’t want this to end, maybe even nearly as much as you did.

“You really flew all the way here because I sent you a photo?” you whispered.

He nodded. “Of course I did.”

“You realize how crazy that is, right?”

He chuckled dryly.

“Well, they do say it makes you do crazy things.”

“...it?” you asked, voice wavering.

He nodded.

Oh.

“Come inside,” you murmured. “It’s pretty cold out there.”

As soon as the door was shut behind him, he began spiraling into a new explanation.

“I hope you know that I didn’t come here just to - you’re right, it is kind of crazy, but I didn’t know what else to do, after everything that happened -”

“I don’t want to talk about this anymore,” you said, cutting him off. “I don’t want to talk at all.”

You both stood there for a moment, eyes locked on eachother. Then, as if reading each other’s minds, you both moved at once - you crashed your lips into his, fast and desperate. He sighed against your lips, pulling you close as his tongue slipped into your mouth.

You felt like crying - you had missed him so much, more than you had realized - his voice, his warmth, his scent - it brought everything flooding back, the feelings you had buried in an attempt at self-preservation. But now, as you kissed him, you felt the tears well up, stinging your eyes as they rolled down your face, hot and fast.

“Whoa - baby, it’s okay - what’s wrong -”

Baby.

“Nothing,” you cried, wiping the tears away. “I just - I really fucking missed you.”

You felt stupid to admit it, but then again, didn’t he come close to confessing that himself just a few moments ago?

“I know, I know, baby - you have no fuckin’ idea -”

Another kiss, passionate and apologetic.

“I didn’t mean any of what I said that night,” you gasped, pulling him closer. “I was just so scared -”

“I know, me too, baby - m’sorry -”

Baby. Babybabybaby.

He was holding your face between his hands now, backing you up until you were pressed against the wall, his lips finding yours again. He titled his head down to nuzzle at your throat, pressing his lips to the sensitive skin there. You tipped your head back, giving him full access to do as he pleased. He kissed and nipped at your neck, until you were moaning and crying out his name, pulling at his coat until it fell off of his shoulders. You twisted your hands in his button-down, his hands squeezing tighter on your waist in response.

“Fuck, Steve,” you breathed. “I’m sorry -”

“Stop with that,” he said, firmly taking your face in his hands again, catching your lips in another gentle kiss. “You’re right, I just realy don’t want to talk anymore -”

Then he was kissing you again, swallowing your noises as you whined his name, fingers gripping his hair.

“Bedroom, now,” you told him. “Please -”

“Yeah, okay.”

He couldn’t keep his hands off of you, both of you stumbling down the small hallway and into your bedroom, Steve slamming the door closed behind him with his foot.

“No Robin?” he asked, lips finding your neck again.

“No - ah! She’s at Vickie’s tonight -”

“Thank Christ,” he growled. “I don’t know how quiet I’m capable of being right now.”

He was apparently as desperate as you were, lips finding yours hungrily as he pulled your oversized t-shirt over your head, eyes practically rolling to the back of his head when he saw your breasts.

“No bra?” he asked.

“I was lounging around, until you showed up -”

“Thank god,” he practically snarled, his hands finding the small of your back to pull you close.

You reached between yourselves, unbuttoning his shirt, fingers slipping as they shook with anticipation. He reached down to help you, until he eventually shrugged the shirt off. You wrapped your arms around him, pressing your bare chest to his, nearly crying again from the contact.

“I really missed you,” he whispered, a man ruined. “I never thought I’d be able to have you like this again -”

“None of that,” you murmured, pressing a finger to his lips. “It’s alright.”

You just stared at him, running your hands down his chest as you took a deep breath.

“I need to tell you something.”

“What is it?” he asked, face flickering with concern. “Oh god, are - are you seeing someone else? I didn’t even ask -”

“No! No, nothing like that,” you assured, biting your lip. “I just - do you remember the night of my birthday on our trip, on the rooftop?”

He nodded. “That was a really nice night.”

“I haven’t been totally honest with you,” you admitted, heart racing as you were ready to lay out the thing you had been terrified to admit aloud.

“About what?” he asked softly, cupping your cheek gently with his palm.

“Remember when I said something in Italian, and you asked what it meant? And I just said it meant I loved the gift, the star thing?”

He nodded. You took a deep, shuddering breath.

“That wasn’t exactly true. I - I said that I was in love with you,” you managed, voice quivering at the end. “That’s why I was so scared - I didn’t realize until I said it… I had broken our rule, our number one rule -”

“Hey, hey -” he cooed, shaking his head. “Did you mean it?”

You hesitated for a moment, then nodded. “Yeah - I still do.”

The few seconds that passed after that had your stomach doing somersaults - what if he still didn’t feel that way, and everything he had said in the doorway was bullshit? You thought you were going to be sick -

But his face softened, his eyes glistening - was he going to cry?

“Fuck the rules. I stopped following those a long time ago,” he said.

Your heart fluttered, your face heating.

“Are you saying -”

“How did you say it in Italian again?” he asked. “I’m sorry, I’ve been slacking on my lessons without you around.”

You laughed. “Oh, um, it’s sono innamorato di te. It translates directly as I’m in love with you, or I’m falling for you.”

He nodded. “Well then - sono innamorato di te.”

You felt like your chest was about to explode, and before you knew it, you were crying again. He was too, you realized, his cheeks glistening with tears as he choked a sob with laughter.

“We could’ve saved ourselves a lot of trouble if we both just said that in the first place,” he said, reaching to wipe away some of your tears.

“How long?” you asked.

“Since the night of the gala I brought you to. So… longer. I guess I win.”

You sobbed again, Steve swallowing the sound with another kiss. It’s wet and salty with tears, a mess of apologies and confessions.

“Steve - I -”

“I know, baby,” he whispered, kissing your salty cheeks. “It’s alright - I’m here now -”

The conversation truly stopped after that - you couldn’t keep your hands off of one another, shedding clothes until you were nude and devouring each other with desperation unlike anything you had ever felt before.

Steve was pressing his lips between your breasts when you asked, voice breathy and filled with need.

“Steve - I need you, please -”

“Mm - yeah, okay -”

Before he could move, you were reaching down to grasp his cock in your hand. He gasped, pupils blown as his head thumped back against the wall. The noise that came out of him was unholy, wrecked and ruined as you brushed your thumb along his leaking tip.

“Christ, baby -”

“Can I suck you off, please?” you asked, desperate to make him come undone.

“Honey - you can’t - I just, I wanna fuck you so bad… I won’t last if I let you get your mouth on me, baby.”

You pouted, even as your heart raced with the thrill of knowing you’d have him inside you again.

“Next time,” he said, “I swear.”

A promise of a next time, of a thousand more times - you started kissing him again, lips bruising his - losing yourself in any drink or drug would never compared to losing yourself in Steve Harrington, you decided.

“Get on the bed,” he muttered, gently pushing you back. You did as he asked, falling back onto the mattress gently as he joined you, face hovering inches from yours.

His hair was a mess, pupils blown and lips glossy. He just shook his head, as if in disbelief.

“What?” you asked.

“You’re just so beautiful,” he breathed.

You felt your face heat, and you buried your face in your hands.

“Shut up.”

“About you? Not likely.”

Before you could come up with a clever remark, he was kissing your neck again, his lips traveling down slowly between the valley of your breasts, taking his time - he was going to leave bruises, you already knew.

But he didn’t stop, traveling down, down, down -

“What are you -”

“I never said I didn’t want to taste you first,” he murmured, pressing a kiss to your inner thigh. “I miss having my mouth on you so fuckin’ much -”

“Fuck,” you gasped. “You’re unreal -”

“Says you,” he retorted. Whatever you planned to say next died on your lips, anything resembling a coherent thought dissolving as his lips found your cunt.

“Oh my god,” you groaned, back arching as his tongue swirled around your clit.

“Just as fuckin’ sweet as I remembered,” he whispered, his breath against your pussy making your chest heave.

He licked a stripe along your slit, making your back arch off the bed, your eyes fluttering closed.

“Be loud for me, baby,” he murmured, lips finding your clit again. You did as he asked, moaning and crying out his name as he devoured your pussy, eliciting desperate sounds from you as your fingers wound themselves in his hair. He groaned as you pulled on his locks, encouraging you to continue doing so as he opted to slide a finger inside you.

“Fuck - Steve! Ohmygod, fuck -”

You felt him smile as he lapped and licked at your folds, adding a second finger and beginning to pump them in earnest, finding that spot inside of you too easily.

You were crying out, bucking your hips against Steve’s lips, like putty in his hands. For about ten minutes you were completely his, mind numb with pleasure as he took you apart with his mouth. You let him, feeling the blunt fingernails of his free hand digging into your thigh, pulling you as close as possible.

“Steve - I’m gonna - I’m so close, y’feel too good -”

Encouraged, he picked up the pace a bit, sending you completely over the edge. When you came, you saw stars, grinding down on Steve’s mouth and fingers. You were screaming, and he helped you through it, nuzzling against your core as you pulsed around his fingers. Your hand left his hair and found his temple, gently coaxing him closer as you rode out your orgasm.

You were still breathing heavily as he kissed his way slowly back up your body, worshiping every inch of skin he could find. YOu didn’t let your eyes open again until he was face-to-face with you, chin glistening with your release as he wore a smug grin.

“Such a good girl for me,” he murmured. “Tasted so good… you came so hard for me -”

“Mm -” you hummed, pulling him down for a kiss. You tasted yourself on him, the sensation completely euphoric.

“Do you need some time?” he asked gently.

You ran a finger over your clit, still sensitive and puffy, and shook your head.

“No, I’m okay - I actually really need you to fuck me.”

“Thank god,” he said, exasperated. “I don’t think I can go another second without fucking you -”

“I know -”

“I would dream about you, you know - all the time. I’d wake up in the middle of the night with a hard-on, of a mess in my boxers like a fuckin’ teenager -”

“I know what you mean,” you admitted, recalling a few times you had thought of him as you touched yourself since he’d left.

“Please tell me you’re still on the fuckin’ pill -”

“Yeah, I am - God, Steve -”

“I know, I know - ready baby?”

You nodded, locking your eyes with his as he positioned himself above you, pushing inside of you ever so slowly. You could tell he was holding back, doing everything he could to not enter you in one rough movement. You winced at the stretch, nearly forgetting just how big he was. He kissed apologies across your face, gasping as he felt your warm walls envelope him.

“Fuck -” he groaned, burying his face in your neck. “I can’t believe I went so long without this - you feel so fuckin’ perfect, baby - such a tight, perfect pussy -”

“You feel so good,” you breathed, digging your fingernails into his shoulderblades. “Steve - I’m so full, please fuck me -”

He did as you asked, rolling his hips against yours, eliciting a groan from both of you. He was still holding back you could tell - but you didn’t have time for that, not after months of missing him, of missing this -

“Let go, baby,” you whispered. “Please -”

“What did you just call me?” he asked.

“I - baby,” you repeated. You realized you never had before - was that wrong?

“Say it again,” he breathed.

“Baby,” you breathed, gasping as he thrust into you a little harder.

“Baby, please - fuck me, let go,” you cried.

It became fast and hard quickly, the desperation you shared impossible to mask. The slapping of his hips against yours was positively dirty, Steve’s arms caging you underneath him as he pounded into you. Your hand snaked down between you, your own finger finding your clit.

“That’s it, baby,” he groaned, continuing his relentless pace. “Touch yourself for me, just like that - M’not gonan last long, I’m sorry, you just feel too good -”

“It’s okay,” you assured, pressing a kiss to his lips. “I want you to lose it.”

He groaned, the room filling with the sound of slapping skin and moans, your names on each other’s lips.

Nothing else mattered, not when Steve was making you feel like this, not when he had flown across an ocean on a whim, a desperate hope to just see you again, even if only for a moment. You suddenly became so overwhelmed with love for this man, this person who had turned your world upside down - it was indescribable, impossible to even express. So you just held him tight, burying your face into his shoulder.

“M’close - I need you to come with me, baby - can you do that? I know you can, you’re always so good for me -”

You nodded, unable to formulate words anymore.

“I fuckin’ love you,” he cried, hips stuttering, his thrusts growing sloppier. “So much, I’m sorry I didn’t tell you - I love you, baby -”

His words sent you over the edge, white-hot pleasure surging through your body as you screamed his name. The feeling of you clamping around him sending him into his own orgasm. He spilled inside of you, your name on his lips like a prayer. He practically collapsed on top of you, the feeling of his heartbeat against yours feeling like home, like it was always meant to be this way.

Your breaths were labored, sweet kisses peppered across skin. Neither of you spoke for quite some time. After he rolled off of you, he immediately wrapped his arms around you, pulling you as close as physically possible.

He pressed a kiss to your forehead, slow and gentle. It was only when you pulled back, brushing some of his sweaty hair away from his face, that you broke the silence.

“I love you, too,” you murmured. You brushed your fingers along his face, and he caught your wrist, pressing kisses to your palm and knuckles, as if determined to worship you every chance he got.

“I want more than an arrangement,” he whispered. “I don’t want rules, or a deal, or -”

“Yeah, that was obvious,” you replied, chuckling. “And, me too.”

“And, you were right - you have school, and I never wanted you to think I just wanted you like a trophy or something - you have your own life, aspirations, and i know that - I just like spoiling you, but I never wanted you to give up who you are,” he said, face soft. “I need you to know that.”

“I do,” you murmured.

You really did.

“Besides, I graduated.”

He raised an eyebrow. “What? When?”

“Officially? A few days ago.”

He smiled, soft and sincere - part of you was worried he might cry again.

“Congratulations - I’ll have to take you out to celebrate.”

“Mm - sounds good to me. How long - when are you here until?”

There was still life to reckon with, after all - living on two different continents, jobs, obligations - the kind of thing that could ruin this. But, he just shook his head.

“I bought an open-ended ticket. So, until whenever you want.”

“I - what? What about work?”

He shrugged. “Turns out, when you run the place, you can get away with that stuff.”

Your jaw dropped.

“What? Are you serious?”

He nodded. “Brenner’s out. I’m in - youngest CEO in the company’s history.”

You laughed, pressing your palm to your forehead as you stared at the ceiling in disbelief.

“Steve - that’s amazing. But how -”

“Shhh - we’ll figure everything out later. But, let’s at least ring in the new year together, yeah?”

You nodded cautiously - he really was here, now, and wanted to make it work.

“Okay,” you said. “Sounds good.”

“Hey - you know what’s really pissing me off, though?”

“What?” you asked, wary as a pit of dread formed in your gut.

“I have to thank Eddie fucking Munson for fixing this.”

You laughed, a real, hearty laugh, and in that moment, you realized things were going to be okay.

******

That night, you slept better than you had in months, safe and warm in Steve’s arms. That was, until you woke to Robin’s scream the next morning, both of you shooting up in bed with a start.

“WHAT IS HE DOING IN YOUR BED?” she cried, shielding her eyes. “God - I wish I could bleach my eyes - motherfucker -”

Then, the door was slamming shut, Robin bemoaning her luck as she bolted down the hall to her own room.

You felt your face heat with embarrassment, sinking under the covers.

“Well - I guess I owe her an explanation -”

“Later,” Steve saidly, shaking his head incredulously. “For Christmas, I’m getting you a fucking industrial lock for that door!”

Then you were laughing, blissful and unable to control yourself, Steve joining you. He kissed the giggles away, pulling your body to his, and not much talking happened after that.

It didn’t matter what real life held after this - because Steve was here, and he was yours. Wherever you ended up, you realized, if you were with Steve, you would be home.

He was here to stay.

author's note: Hi y'all - thanks for your patience! This story isn't quite done - there will be an epilogue posted tomorrow. But, that's essentially the conclusion of don't call me 'baby' - I told you it would be a happy ending! Shoutout to @is-writing for some help with this. And of course as always, Em, without whom this fic wouldn't have happened. Comments, reblogs, and messages are always welcome - keep an eye out for the epilogue!

#steve harrington #steve harrington/reader smut #steve harrington/you #steve harrington x y/n #steve harrington x reader fluff #steve harrington x reader smut #steve harrington smut #steve harrington/reader angst #steve harrington/fem!reader #steve harrington fanfiction #steve harrington fanfic #steve harrington fluff #steve harrington imagine #steve harrington x you #steve harrington blurb #steve harrington angst #steve harrington x reader #dcmb fic

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thedroneranger · 1 year

Text

Doggone It

Jake "Hangman" Seresin

Précis: Jake convinces Mrs. Seresin she needs a furry companion.

Note: I needed a serotonin hit, and dogs make me happy. This piece is an imagine in the To-Do List collection.

Warnings: So fluffy you might die, disabled dogs, inaccuracies around how military working dog adoptions work

Word count: 1.1k

Jake was nervous. Although he thought he was hiding it well, he wasn’t. She knew. She always knew. No one read Jake better than she could. Of course, he found it particularly annoying. Especially if he were planning any sort of surprise.

Pretending to be none the wiser, she sipped her latte and hummed along to the music. The wind siphoning through the cracked passenger window, streaming through her hair felt wonderful. Sun was hitting her face as she stared through her aviators at the passing scenery.

All of Jake’s tells were on display: thumbs thrumming on the steering wheel, knee jumping nervously and he wasn’t serenading her to their shared playlist, but instead mumbling to himself under his breath.

Finally, he broke the low lull of the music. “We’re headed to base.”

“I know.” She turned from the window to look at him as he shot her a quick glance before putting his eyes back on the road. She continued to watch his profile, waiting for him to elaborate further.

A breath he didn’t realize he was holding left his body. “We have an appointment,” he added. His bottom lip disappeared between his teeth for a second.

“An appointment?” She prodded, taking another sip of her latte.

“Yes, an appointment. You’ll see when we get there,” Jake finished. Her mind raced as she tried to imagine what would require both their presence on base. Her ID card wasn’t up for renewal. Her vehicle tags were up to date.

Once the truck was parked, Jake came around to the front of the vehicle, hand ready for her to take. They exchanged smiles as their fingers interlaced. Inside the building, nothing appeared familiar as they strode past sterile doors, and the overhead lights glimmered off the well-waxed beige tile.

At the end of the nondescript hallway, Jake pushed open one of the double doors to reveal a gymnasium dotted with dogs and handlers. Her eyes grew to the size of saucers. “You cannot be serious, Jake!” She turned to look at him.

His expression was guilty yet hopeful. “Serious as a heart attack, sweetheart. We’re here to see which dogs are matches for us.” Her mouth hung open for a few seconds but nothing came out.

For months, she and Jake had been going back and forth about getting a dog. Given the uptick in the duration and frequency of his deployments and tours, he wanted her to have a protective companion around when he wasn’t. Plus, he couldn’t always rely on his friends—their assignments were as sporadic as his.

First, Jake looked at breeders, thinking a purebred puppy would be perfect. Although the idea of a pudgy puppy cuddled in her lap with velvet fur, premature wrinkles and unmistakable breath made her melt, she knew they had to adopt. So Jake changed his attack, sending her adoption events from rescues throughout the county.

One day, he was on his way to the mess hall for lunch when a flier on the hallway bulletin board caught his eye. A smile curled his lips as he read the details for an upcoming military working dog adoption event.

He captured the information through the posted QR code and continued on to the lunch room. His squadron buddies ribbed him while he filled out the digital forms to ensure they got on the list as soon as possible.

Jake remembered the day he got the approval email. He’d been incessantly checking. It also took all his willpower not to tell her. So often she did things for him that he really wanted to do this for her.

“Lieutenant Seresin? Mrs. Seresin?” A woman dressed in fatigues addressed them with a warm smile. They nodded in unison and each shook her hand. After introducing herself, she offered them beverages and then took the pair to a small sitting area. Then, she walked through how their application was vetted and they were matched.

“You’re perfect candidates for any of the dogs here,” the woman commended them. They exchanged affectionate looks as Jake slipped his hand into hers and squeezed it. “But there’s a specific dog we think is the best fit for you. Would you like to meet him?”

Jake was out of his chair before the word “yes” left his lips. The soldier smiled at his giddiness and waited for her to also stand. Once all three of them were on their feet, she guided them around the perimeter of the room until they reached another soldier, standing with a brindle Belgian Malinois. “Say hello to Ruck.” She motioned toward the dog.

Jake listened so well to her list of must-haves that they were here, standing in front of a retired military dog in need of a home. She looked at Jake with a genuine smile. He thought his heart might stop. She looked so happy, which made him so happy.

“May I?” She looked at the handler for permission to pet the dog.

“Please!” He looked at Ruck, giving a wordless command. Looking back at her, the handler offered a couple pointers for a successful first impression. Jake listened but watched his wife as she absorbed everything.

Once briefed, she knelt to Ruck’s level and presented the back of her hand to him. Curiously, he nosed it, eventually nuzzling her palm. She smiled as she began to scratch his jaw, and then eventually behind his ears.

While Ruck warmed up to her, they learned he was a six-year-old that had served two tours in the Middle East and has been to almost all 50 states. The timing could not have been more perfect. As the handler finished with Ruck’s list of accolades, the dog excitedly popped up, rushing forward into her arms, revealing he was short a hindleg.

Both she and Jake couldn’t help but smile, and the soldiers sighed in deep relief. Usually a hard sell, the pair was unfazed.

Heck, Jake felt his heart melt a little more.

After a couple hours of socialization, Jake managed to convince the program manager to give a special release so Ruck could leave with them. Usually, they coordinated a home drop-off later, but Ruck had really taken to them.

While they were outside, practicing commands and playing fetch, the handler came toward her only to be warned by Ruck not to come any closer. A smile crept across her face as she looked at the dog and rewarded him with a pat on the head. The handler and program manager were just as pleased.

On the ride home, Jake had a hard time keeping his eyes on the road as she and Ruck sat in the backseat. Ruck laid across the seat with his head in her lap as she stroked between his ears.

She caught Jake staring at her in the rearview mirror and pouted her lips in his direction. He cocked his cheek as though her kiss landed there and winked at her.

Jake’s heart was so full, he thought he might burst.

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interpolanticssuperfan · 10 months

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nothing natural | ken x fem!reader | part 2 | 18+ only

warnings: none for this chapter except reader doesn't believe that ken isn't human and asks to touch his feet to prove it. its not going to be a thing, i promise lol. enjoy !! also i really hope my characterization of ken is good so far!!

So this is how you found yourself packing up your things, throwing a cursory farewell glance to Pat, who’d long abandoned watching your tense exchange in favor of flipping through an Avon brochure, and heading down the marble staircase with Ken glued to your side, chattering away at lightspeed the entire time.

“This is excellent. (Y/N), I just knew you’d be as kind as I thought you were. And now I never have to see the bridge guy again. You don’t have a change of clothes, do you? I mean… I assume you have plenty of dresses, jumpsuits, blazers, things like that, but I could really use something that accentuates my chest a little better. Unless you like it covered up. Do you like it covered up?”

“Aren’t you sweating your ass off in those clothes? And who is the bridge guy?” You give a slight tug at the hem of his jacket, pushing open the glass double doors for the both of you and nearly gasping at the hot wall of humid air washing past, embracing your skin in a rush.

Ken turns, locks his confused eyes with your inquisitive ones. As your hand flies away from him, Ken follows your fingers, like he’s upset that you didn’t actually touch him. “What do you mean? I feel fantastic in these. It’s my white denim. But if you… do you like them?”

“I… well, I don’t know what your chest looks like, but I’m sure it looks… great.” Your cheeks flushed as you stole an unbidden glimpse in his general direction, shouldering you as if he was convinced he’d disappear if he wasn’t essentially tethered to you.

“You really think so? Then I’ll keep it on. I bet I can wear this for a whole week and not even get a single wrinkle. I’ve done it before, and I can do it again.”

Without asking, you chance a risky move, placing your fore and middle finger to the back of Ken’s neck where his hair dips down. The sunlight doesn’t seem to bother him, the punishing heat isn’t making him groan with exhaustion, and to your abject horror – there’s not a bead of sweat on him: Ken’s sun-kissed skin is frigid to the touch. Rigid, he felt wax-like, resembling the mold of a man.

In the middle of the looping sidewalk that wraps around to the block you live on, Ken freezes with a gasp, reflexively shoots his hand up to clasp around your wrist where you’re feeling him. For a moment, neither of you speak, you just allow yourself to stare into his eyes which are very much undeniably alive, bright blue with inexplicable life and bounding to chase yours, melting into your grip.

“Why aren’t you hot out here.” It doesn’t come out as a question. Ken begins to sense your hesitation, doesn’t drop his firm fingers from your hand. “It’s the middle of summer, Ken.”

You hear a passerby shove past you, can feel their leashed dog traipse by your knees, you can hear a car horn honking at traffic, but all of it feels muted, feels futile, the volume turning down on every possible source of stimulation save for Ken’s eyes, Ken’s icy cold neck.

He isn’t smiling, but he doesn’t back down from the question. “I told you. I’m not…” Ken looks upwards to the clouds, quirks an eyebrow as if drafting his response with immense care. As if he had been up there before. Like he’d never thought this hard about anything. “I’m not from here. You’re a human.”

“And you’re supposed to be – what?”

“I don’t really know how to explain it. No one’s ever… I guess no one’s ever cared to ask me about it.” With his eyes still trained on yours, you press your fingers a little harder against a cord of muscle where a visible vein pokes out, feebly exploring for a pulse point, just to find that Ken had no heartbeat, either.

This pressure between you both seemed to pull a reaction from Ken, who at once slammed his eyes shut and sucked in a harsh breath, inching his head back and baring more of his not-skin to you. You felt that if Ken could have a pulse, it would be racing right about now.

“Are you. Are you dead?”

You feel ridiculous. You feel faint. Your body wants to look every which way, maybe waiting for a prank show host to reveal themselves with a raucous cast and crew, pointing and laughing at the fool who fell for the “living wax figure” bit, and you’d smile for the camera and go home and forget this ever happened. (Mind destined to wonder how the hell they made their dummy so believable, so lifelike, so… alive.)

But no one came, and no one laughed, and glassy eyed Ken kept staring at you, scrambling for an answer to your loaded question.

“I don’t think so.”

“You don’t sleep?”

“Nope.”

“Do you eat?”

“Never tried. But there’s a bunch of food in Barbieland. It’s more for decoration, if that makes sense. Sorta like clothes. An apple here is very different from an apple there. Trust me.”

Sudden shakiness claiming your knees, you knew you’d have to find a place to sit soon or you were liable to fall over in the middle of the sidewalk, which would pose a massive problem for you and your new cargo (friend?) who claimed to neither sleep nor eat, let alone seemed capable of getting you medical help.

These newest revelations which you’d felt for yourself seemed to quickly overshadow the old worries which had plagued you – the stalking, the casing out your apartment, those were all old news now.

Ken was one step ahead of you, noticed the pallor painting across your face, and without another word took your bag from your shoulder, slipping a shockingly strong arm around your waist effortlessly. “Come here. You look… really scared.” He jolted his head to find an unoccupied stretch of grass, then walked you both over to it, hand never leaving your back.

Once you felt yourself on the ground, you were able to take a deep breath. Ken sat cross legged in front of you, your bag still strewn across his body, his face entirely drawn with intense concern.

“(Y/N)?” The consideration in his tone was so palpable, you couldn’t help but to trust him, let him continue to keep his hand on you, just to make sure you were still with him. Black splotches had entered your vision but dissipated once you got your bearings, due in part to the reassuring feeling of Ken’s thumb pressed against the ball of your kneecap.

“I’m sorry, I. I don’t know what just happened. I didn’t mean to freak you out, Ken.”

“You don’t have to apologize. Do you feel any better?”

In the middle of the day, broad daylight assailing your back, your cheeks, your arms, and still on the clock, you lifted your head up to address Ken.

Ken, who had been there to help you, who had fixed you with such tenderness in his eyes and didn’t know the first thing about you. Ken, who glimmered in the sun, who waited five hours at the library by himself just for a chance at seeing you. Who had been bursting at the seams to show you a book about… horses.

“Did you really follow me home?”

Ken nodded, smile tugging at his lips. “I should have said hi. Would you have said hi back?” The way he balanced back on his tailbone revealed even more of his abdomen, his glistening muscles that managed to appear slick though they were devoid of actual sweat. Ken really did look to be covered in… well, lacquer, or some kind of perfect finish that made him perpetually shine.

“I think I would have said hi, yes. For sure. Why do you keep talking about – um. Barbie? And please be honest with me.”

Ken didn’t miss a beat, looked down to where his thumb was still resting on your leg. “Don’t freak out again. You don’t have to worry about her, by the way – we are not a thing anymore.” He pointed tersely with his free hand.

“That’s not what I was wondering… about.”

“I’d rather you hear it from me first, (Y/N). I’m from Barbieland. That’s what I was trying to explain before. You know Barbie and Ken? That’s me. I am Ken.” A laugh would be appropriate, but you didn’t feel like giving one. Not considering the dead serious look Ken wore as he talked, measured and severe.

“Okay. So… okay. What does that mean? You live… like a Ken doll? Like extreme cosplay? Plastic surgery to look like him and stuff like that?”

“I don’t know what roleplay is. I am literally Ken.” He blinks at you, waiting for the cogs to turn, waiting for it to click for you.

“A mega Ken fan.” You might be in denial still.

Growing frustrated, Ken snatches your hand back to his lower neck, brusquely forcing your clammy fingers into the dip right above his clavicle, the base of his throat to prove his point.

“See? I don’t feel like you. Feel yours, and then feel mine. I’m not lying. Why would I lie about who I am?” With your other hand that Ken hadn’t captured, you did as he said and mirrored the motion, felt your arduous pulse, blood coursing through your veins, and felt speechless again at the sensation of nothingness coming from the guy who looked more male than any man you’d actually seen.

“I don’t know what to say. You’ve never been to a doctor?”

“Oh, Barbie is a doctor. But I haven’t needed to see her for anything in a while. She used to call me accident prone. Or attention seeking. I can’t remember which one.”

“Right. Have you ever been sick?”

“Not that I’m aware of.” Of course not.

“Broken a bone?”

“Don’t think I have those,” Ken pressed on, returning your nervous hand to your lap. He then stretched his leather-covered legs out across the gross, positioning them to the side of your knees, and started playing with the strap of your bag. “This is pretty heavy. No one carries this around for you?”

“Is it okay if I touch your leg?”

“You can absolutely touch it. But, do you think I can do that for you from now on? Carry the bag?” Ken pleaded at you with his eyes, so open and honest and innocent like a newborn fawn, and you found it impossible to tell him no. Talking with him was almost like conversing with a child, and that made your skin crawl when coupled with the knowledge that you found him overwhelmingly attractive, impossibly beautiful, even.

Jesus, the heat must be getting to you after all.

“Sure, you can carry my bag, Ken.”

“Yes,” Ken celebrated privately, too initially excited to notice that you’d started prodding at his shin in little tentative bursts. At first, you didn’t notice anything out of the ordinary, it just felt like… a leg. So you eyeballed his ankles, his feet where the cowboy boots sat against the grass, and Ken seemed to know what you were about to ask. “Do you wanna see my feet? Will you believe me then?”

“I know how crazy this might sound. But I think I kind of do need to see them. Is that okay?” You fought to suppress your embarrassed grin, but this only made Ken laugh.

And what a beautiful laugh he had. Boyish, charming, airy like an angel; something you wanted to keep hearing again and again until this self proclaimed “Ken” had run out of things to find funny.

Had you always been this easy?

Or was it just easy with him?

Ken bent forward immediately, removing his spotless white boots, to reveal bare, spotless feet, angled perfectly and without any sort of distinct smell. No calluses, no odd toenail, no hair. They enticed you to get closer, to touch them, but you realized how bizarre this looked and how odd Ken must feel.

“I’m sorry, god, this is probably the weirdest day you’ve ever had, and I’m not making it any –” But as you looked up to give him this apology, Ken wore not an uncomfortable expression, but one instead of… unnamable, sober emotion. Like he was likely to break down in tears of relief the longer you regarded him with such curiosity.

“You don’t think I’m weird?” Ken asked, voice barely above a whisper. This response wasn’t what you expected, and you bit your lip, learning fast that Ken was as sensitive as he was bold. “When Barbie was here, people were awful to her at first, they were calling her horrible things and I don’t think I could…”

“I think that I have never met anyone like you. I think that… it’s insane that your feet are… I mean, can I touch them?”

This brings a hopeful spark to his face again, and he nods eagerly at your request, hungry to hear what you have to say. As if his future hangs on your opinion of him. As if he would die without your attention, good attention, bad attention, any of it. As if the prospect of being touched would save him from damnation, eternally.

All this to hold a stranger’s foot (a stranger with no heartbeat, a stranger with hypnotic blue eyes that could look so inviting looking down at you, would look even better blown open in surprise after a kiss, or – wait, why are you thinking about this?) on the grassy courtyard by a Catholic church while you’re still ignoring your work and still getting paid for every minute.

You knew there’d be more than a handful of angry emails waiting for you when you finally returned home.

But that could wait. It could all wait, because you scooted forward to cradle Ken’s bare foot in your lap, and you inspected with all the great care of a scientist inventing pharmaceuticals or something equally as important to mankind. He was right. It wasn’t like yours, his skin, his body wasn’t like anything you’d seen before. So… smooth. No hair except for Ken’s head of blonde, his arched brows. What kind of human being could live this long and not have a pimple on their face, no bumps or ridges on their feet, no scars anywhere whatsoever? You dragged your fingertips across the rounded arch, but again, nothing.

“You’re not even ticklish?”

“I’m not sure what that feels like.”

“Is Barbie ticklish?”

“I never tried tickling her.”

“You can feel me doing this, right?” Ken nodded, watched you caress him lightly, then with effort, as you squeezed tentatively. “So you can feel pressure.”

“Yeah, I can feel everything you’re doing.”

“But there’s no, like. It’s not tickling you, it’s not hurting you, it’s not. Sorry if this sounds weird, I promise I’m just trying to get information. Does it feel… good?” Something in you was begging you to just let go, stop worrying that this was probably the strangest day you’ve ever had, like you had anything else nearly as interesting going on besides quiche recipes in library magazines and buying lettuce for your guinea pig.

Ken raises his light brown eyebrows, like he hadn’t considered this, face still content as he processed your handiwork, rotating in circles now and occasionally swiping up to his smooth ankle. The cuffs of his leather pants had rolled up and afforded you a bit of access to more skin, if you could call it that.

“You’re the first person to touch my feet before. I don’t know… give me a second.”

“Should I stop?” Suddenly, you began to worry this might be putting Ken off. After all, you literally didn’t know him, and you’d asked him to show him your feet. Christ, you hoped he wasn’t taking you for a lunatic. You knew this was probably stupid. It was arguably unsafe – this guy had admitted to following you home.

However, with context, you were beginning to understand this might be the only course of action that fit Ken.

“No – don’t stop. Please, keep going.” The tone he’d just used was vastly different from the others – it wasn’t quizzical, wasn’t reassuring or conversational. He sounded… pleased, voice almost cracking at the end as you pushed a little harder at where his ankle bone would be and felt none of the give a human would have, none of the pores or follicles of hair. You’d started to really start massaging him now, gently rolling your fingers across his lower shin and then moving back down to his feet, compressing him.

How could this be real? It didn’t make any sense. You had half an idea to ask if you could try this on his neck, but when you looked up to gauge his physical state, Ken’s eyes hadn’t opened, but his mouth had fallen open in satisfaction, brows relaxed and easy. At first, he seemed peaceful, but when you stilled your breathing, you could hear him almost purring under your touch, like he’d never felt this before and wanted more – wanted something more acute. Something heightened. His chest rose and fell, mouth twitching as you worked, but you knew this was a peculiar way of getting to know someone, and you knew that Ken would probably never tell you to stop.

You gingerly laid Ken’s foot back in the grass next to his boot, and he snapped his eyes open, staring at you with a protest at the unexpected loss of contact.

“Why’d you stop?”

“I don’t know. This is weird. Am I making you feel weird?”

“(Y/N) – you’re making me feel incredible is what you’re doing. What’s that called, anyway?”

“A foot massage, I suppose. And it’s not something you typically do the first day you meet someone.”

Ken turned this over in his mind, evidently not picking up on the undercurrent of… something heavier than enjoyment he’d been displaying so openly, and put his boot back on.

“You don’t even need socks, huh?”

“Guess not. Can we do that again sometime? Maybe you can teach me how to do it for you? (Y/N), I promise I can learn really fast.” His mind racing a mile a minute, you had the good sense to rise above in this situation, regardless of how electric it felt to touch him – even if it was a little unorthodox.

You rose to stand once Ken had adjusted his (perfect) foot, and Ken held onto your bag like it was his job, clutching the strap with unnecessary force.

“Maybe, Ken. Listen, I really need to get back to my apartment and keep working, my boss is probably furious with me. And. I also am sorry if that was weird, asking to see your feet and then… doing that. I promise I’m not a creep or anything.” Very convincing – great work, he’s sure to buy that.

“Don’t say that. Seriously, (Y/N), I do not want to hear you say that again. You’re not a creep – you’re amazing, you’re so smart – no one’s ever even been interested in seeing me like that, no one’s ever questioned that I’m a doll, so I –”

“Is that what it is?” You asked, feeling like the clouds may have parted and the word dancing on your lips the entire time finally made itself known to you. “You’re a doll?” Ken bounded to his feet in a fluid motion, something that would’ve been difficult for any normal man to do.

He made it look easy – made everything look easy.

Ken chuckled, couldn’t help but wear that irresistible grin as he waited for you to start leading the way, assuming that wherever you went, he would naturally follow. “You are so funny. I told you, didn’t I? I am Ken! That’s me.”

“That’s you.”

“That’s me, baby.”

It rolled off his lips a little too casually. It wrenched your heart to correct him – with Ken’s understanding of the world, he probably had no idea that touching someone’s bare feet in the middle of the day did not mean you were romantically involved.

You wondered what he understood of romance. You wondered if he’d ever been touched anywhere else, what was underneath his pants, what would have happened if you hadn’t stopped massaging him, but this started to make your head spin with more ferocity than before.

“This is important, Ken, so please listen.”

“You got it.”

“People you’re just friends with – you can’t call them baby.”

“But we are friends. We are, right?”

“Yes – yes, we are friends. But baby is for when you’re with someone. You know?”

Ken chewed on this, followed you down the sidewalk even further, passing by a string of old houses.

“With someone.”

“Dating them. Seeing them. Committed and whatnot. You have that in… Barbieland too, don’t you?” It felt completely and utterly insane saying that sentence, but you were beginning to realize you’d have to stop caring about how you sounded when you talked to Ken if you wanted to get anywhere with him.

“Sort of. I meant it when I said you don’t have to worry about Barbie, okay? Don’t worry about that, (Y/N). We are just. Friends.”

This wasn’t going where you thought it would. For now, you decided to postpone educating Ken a little further on the boundaries you’d have to set – the ground rules to keep this from turning into something unfair.

Ken smiled at your side, hated to tear away from your shoulder even to let other people pass, and for now it was enough to hear Ken call you ‘baby’ even if just once, and even if he had no idea what it really meant.

#ken #ryan gosling #ken x reader #ken x fem reader #female reader #ken barbie #barbie movie #ryan gosling ken

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shitty-writers-blog · 1 month

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THE ONE WHERE YOU ASK FOR HELP [EP.1]

I also am still getting to know Colter Shaw. He is being written as I depict him so far, and hopefully, later on, I will be able to know how to write about him perfectly.

Hey guys, this is my first ever fanfic. I know it's not gonna be the best, so please be nice to me.

Please feel free to tell me how I can write better and maybe send it request? I hope you guys enjoy/like this first part.

Colter x F! Reader

You had been pacing back and forth unable to decide whether to worry about your brother who you haven’t heard from in a week, usually he would call after he arriving to his destination, your brother had caught the traveling bug at a young age like you mother. Unlike you who hated the thought of traveling due to all the responsibilities you had to take in as a young teenager, your mom was always traveling to New places whether it was in the country or international, your father had decided to spilt from you and the rest of the family because he’d grown tired of your mother’s antiques. If you weren’t so protective of your brother you would have left with your dad as well, but because your brother didn’t want to leave mom you ended up sacrificing your childhood, your father still provided financially, but emotionally or physically he wasn’t present.

During all this you had your best friend Colter Shaw to keep you afloat, soon y'all started dating junior year and continued all through your college journey it wasn’t, until Colter decided he wanted to be a rewardist and travel to find missing people for money, you tried making it work, but you were exhausted at the idea of him traveling and doing the long distance thing so you did something that you never wanted to do. You ended things with him, as he was in the middle of proposing, he tried to convince you to work with him, but you explained your issues with traveling and then that was it you never saw or spoke to Colter again.

That is until your brother potentially went missing, you still had Colter's number at least you hoped you thought to yourself, you kept messing with you lips, with furrowed eyebrows, thinking deeply about wondering if you were being to overprotective, that maybe he was alright and you’re just worked up over nothing because let’s be honest your brother wasn’t the best at calling you to assure you he’s fine.

“Fuck it.” You said as you picked up your phone from your bed and scrolled at your contact list until you found his name Shaw you pressed call and as it started to ring your heart started to beat fast and loud, you inhaled and exhaled as you continued to pace in your room, as you were about to hang up, you heard his voice.

“Y/n? Are you alright?” you heard his voice with a lace of worry and confusion, you face palmed yourself wincing at how stupid you probably were- “uh, hello? Y/n are you there?” he interrupted your train of thought “Oh um, yeah hey Colter!” You said a bit more enthusiastically than you intended you cringed at yourself as you shook your head in annoyance why can’t you act cool for once you thought to yourself. “um, sorry to bother you Colter and I wish we would talk under different circumstances, but um- are you still doing that rewards job by any chance?” you asked hoping he would be able to help you with your situation, you heard a chuckle as he answered back a simple yes and asked what was going on with you. You explained to him the situation and he told you how lucky you were because he had just finished a job, he told you how he’d drive up to your place since he was 2 hours away, you thanked him and then hung up the phone.

I decided it would be better if I got dressed, so I took a quick shower even used my favorite scented exfoliator because why not. And did my normal shower routine, then I decided to do my routine that I always do after a shower. I decided to clean up a bit even though it was already pretty clean, once I turned my wax melt on I heard the door bell ring. I straightened myself and checked myself in the mirror to make sure I looked okay, I took a deep breath in and I exhaled it as I opened the door. “Wow! Um, hey, I uh got lost- how is it that all these apartments look very identical?” I laughed Stepping to the side as a sign for him to enter, he smiled as he entered my house noticing I had a shoe rack by the door and he started to take his shoes off. “Thanks for taking your shoes off, most people who visit never do and I’m always to shy to say something.” I explain while shutting the door behind me, he nodded and gave a small smirk, “well I’m very observant and I’ve known you since we were young, every time I entered your room I always had to take my shoes off. Only difference now is I don’t have my own inside pair of slippers to put on.” I frowned a bit at the memory, but let out a breathy chuckle, “I bought a new pair for my brother Chance, for when he crashed at my place. You two have the same shoe size so you can have those,” Colter smiled nodding as a way to silently thank me, I walked up to my little storage closet and got the pair out and handed it to him, he went and sat on my couch and I sat distantly close to him.

I looked at the floor nervously because this was the first time in years we’ve seen each other and first time seeing him, I realized those feelings were still there towards him, and the fact that he had a major glow up. I bit my lip trying to come up with a topic to converse, but my mind wouldn’t stop going down memory lane about how we used to be inseparable and the last thing I said to him was no to becoming his wife. There has always been a part of me that regretted saying no, to breaking up with him just because he chose to do this for a living and the fact that it involved so much traveling, I just couldn’t go through what my mother put me through with Colter. “Y/n?” I looked up confused at him, “I asked you to voice your thoughts.” I looked away a bit flushed at how well he could read me, I even thought for a second he was able to read my mind. “oh well, it's nothing, really.” I tell him making eye contact with him for the first time in 10 minutes, he raised his eyebrow as a way to tell me he didn’t believe me and gave me that look he would always give me that said to spill it or he’d get it out of me. I rolled my eyes and told him how annoying he still was, and that made him laugh, “yeah okay, I hate to mention this, but your brother, why do you think he’s missing?” I sighed, putting my legs up to my chest, looking at my coffee table, taking a deep breath and bolting myself up, starting to pace back and forth, telling him everything I knew and didn’t know.

#colter shaw x reader #tracker imagines #colter shaw #colter shaw imagines

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wishesunderthestars · 2 years

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Eunoia // Ch. 23

eunoia (noun): beautiful thinking, the possession of a well-balanced mind, which exhibits goodwill and kindness

Pairings: Hybrid! BTS x reader

Summary: You are a world famous director and you have dedicated your life to your job.You have everything you could ever dream of; wealth, recognision, talent, your friends and family. But loneliness isn’t cured by success. So what happens when you somehow rescue seven hybrids? Can they fill the void?

Genre: Angst, fluff, hurt/comfort, eventual smut

Word Count: 5.7k+

Warnings: past abuse, past sexual abuse, cursing, past violence, mentions of blood, panic attacks

Masterlist

Chapter 1, Chapter 2 Chapter 3 Chapter 4 Chapter 5 Chapter 6 Chapter 7 Chapter 8 Chapter 9 Chapter 10 Chapter 11 Chapter 12 Chapter 13 Chapter 14 Chapter 15 Chapter 16 Chapter 17 chapter 18 Chapter 19 Chapter 20 Chapter 21 Chapter 22

This chapter is shorter than usual but I’m in the middle of my exams so I decided to post it as it is instead of waiting until it was longer.

Many thanks to my incredible beta reader @thewishofafallenangel <3

The taglist is now closed

Jimin’s head was spinning and phantom hands were squeezing his neck. They had been there once, solid and hard, cutting off his breath. Now, he could feel them again, holding him down. Punishing him.

Namjoon and Jin had been kissing. It couldn’t be. Why would they do that? Why?

“Minie?” Namjoon called his name softly, rising to his feet.

Jimin considered running. It was his first instinct; get away, pretend nothing happened. But something kept him rooted in place.

“What are you doing?” he asked, his voice unsteady.

Jin sent a wide-eyed look to Namjoon. Jimin’s chest hurt.

“Come here, Minie,” Namjoon said soothingly. “I’m sorry we didn’t tell you before. Come here and we will talk.”

He extended a hand to him and, even through the fear, Jimin couldn’t resist taking it. Namjoon was safe, he was his pack alpha. He and Jungkook were the reasons he was here, he wouldn’t have survived in that shelter if it hadn’t been for them. Jimin would trust his life in Namjoon’s hands.

The wolf hybrid pulled him to the bed and situated him between him and Jin with his back to the headboard. It was warm, surrounded by their mixed scents of summer rain and honey buns. He would have been purring any other time.

Namjoon sniffed the air and he frowned. “What are you thinking? Why do you smell so afraid?”

Jimin looked down in shame. “I don’t know,” he whispered. His scent had soured, it must have been unpleasant to anyone smelling it.

Namjoon’s large hand cupped his nape and applied pressure in a way that usually had Jimin melting like wax under a flame. But he couldn’t let go of all the tension in his body.

“You can tell us,” Namjoon urged gently. “Did seeing Jinnie and I together scare you? Why are you afraid?”

Jimin hugged himself, he needed the comfort. “How…. Why did… Why did you do that?”

He felt sick asking them that. They always knew better than him. They were so much better than him. How could they fall into the same trap he had? And he felt sicker still for the longing that stirred inside him upon seeing them together.

His eyes were trained on his lap but he sensed them exchanging looks.

“Why were we kissing?” Namjoon asked. He waited until Jimin nodded to continue. “Because we like it. We like each other and…” he fumbled. Namjoon was always so sure of what he said and how he said it. It wasn’t often that he stumbled over his sentences. “It feels good and we want to.”

It sounded simple, it made sense but Jimin knew it wasn’t that simple. It couldn’t be that simple. It was dangerous and if you learned of it, it could hurt you. They loved you, it was evident every time you were together. They looked at you like you had spoken the world into existence. They wouldn’t want to hurt you, he was sure of that.

Maybe that was why they had told no one.

He was biting his lip so hard it was beginning to hurt. “How long?”

“A few months,” Jin said quietly as if to soften the blow.

There was a sting in Jimin’s eyes and the hand on his nape couldn’t ground him anymore. You were nothing like his Master, he repeated to himself. Just the thought of Namjoon and Jin suffering like Jimin had made bile rise in his throat and blurred his vision. No, you would never do that. You wouldn’t punish them. But what if… What if you felt so betrayed you sent them away? He couldn’t bear that, it would kill him.

“My baby,” Jin whispered, wiping his cheeks. Jimin hadn’t noticed the tears falling from his eyes.

“Be careful,” he begged them brokenly. “Please.”

Jin pulled him to his chest and Jimin gripped his shirt, afraid to let go. “Be careful of what baby? We are safe here. Nothing will happen to us.”

Jimin could only sniffle and hold on to him. Another set of arms enveloped his waist and a whine slipped past his lips wanting to be as close to both of them as possible. Namjoon obliged, pressing against his back so Jimin was squeezed between them.

“She can’t…” Jimin sniffled. “She can’t know about this.”

“Who?” Namjoon asked. Jimin hid himself further into Jin’s chest at the following question of your name. “Why shouldn’t she know? Do you think she will be mad?”

Jimin whimpered and Jin rubbed his hands up and down his back. “Hybrids… Hybrids shouldn’t do that.”

“Why?” Jin asked. “Why shouldn’t we?”

“It’s bad,” Jimin mumbled against his shirt.

Namjoon’s arms tightened around his waist and his lips pressed tenderly on Jimin’s neck as he scented him. Everything was too much. His heart was beating so loudly and quickly he was afraid it would burn out and simply stop and fog had shrouded his head in white.

“Why is it bad?” Namjoon asked patiently.

Jimin shut his eyes, the memories flooding back. “He said it’s bad. It’s wrong.”

They froze and Jimin whimpered. Namjoon went back to scenting him but he could feel that his jaw was clenched. He rarely talked about his past owner, he didn’t want to remember and any mentions of him made his pack angry.

Jin stroked his hair lovingly. “Why would it be wrong?”

“It’s just… It is.” He had no way of explaining. It had to be wrong because it had cost him everything.

Namjoon breathed in sharply. “Did you-? Have you been punished for kissing another hybrid?”

Jimin wanted to crawl out of his skin, vanish like a cloud of smoke. They knew what he had done. Once he’d thought they would be disgusted. Now he knew they wouldn’t but his lungs were still stone and his heart was racing. He couldn’t run and hide—like his every instinct told him—not when Namjoon and Jin were holding him like this.

“Yoongi,” Jin said under his breath. Jimin’s sob was enough confirmation.

“That monster.” Namjoon’s voice came out in a growl. “He hurt you. He hurt you and Yoongi. Why didn’t you tell us? Why didn’t you tell me?”

Jimin sniffled. “I-I’m sorry.”

“No, no, baby,” Jin cooed, placing a kiss on the top of his head. “We aren’t angry at you. Joon just wants to help, he isn’t mad. You don’t have to tell us but if you do, we can understand you better. If you don’t want to, that’s fine too. You just have to know that he was wrong. He was so wrong. You shouldn’t believe anything he’s told you. Kissing someone when both of you want it, loving someone, it can’t be wrong. Did you want to kiss Yoongi?” Jimin nodded his head tentatively. “Did Yoongi want to kiss you?”

Jimin sniffled. “Y-yes.”

“Then there is nothing wrong with that.” Jin tugged at his hair lightly, just enough for Jimin to feel it. “Look at me.” And Jimin did, because he would do anything they asked of him. “Whatever he said to you wasn’t true. You are free to love whoever you want and kiss whoever you want. It isn’t wrong just because you are a hybrid. That shouldn’t dictate who we can love.”

More tears slid down Jimin’s cheeks but Jin was quick to brush them away. He wanted to believe him. Oh, how he wanted to believe him. A war was tearing his head in half.

“He…” Jimin choked on the words. It was still vivid in his mind’s eye. His body had stopped hurting but the images of that night were the same, being replayed again and again in his nightmares. “He caught us kissing. I knew it was dangerous but I didn’t stop. I didn’t stop. Yoongi was soft and sweet, everything I’d never experienced before.”

He drew in a shaky breath. It hurts, it hurts to remember.

Namjoon’s hand was rubbing his belly as he scented him. Jimin would have broken down completely if it hadn’t been for their scents on him.

Jimin was crying, he was crying so hard he thought he could lose all the water in his body. “They hit him, they broke his leg.” Namjoon’s hand stilled on his stomach and a low growl rumbled in his chest. Jimin sobbed as he remembered the sickening crack, how he had tried to crawl to him. “They… They hurt him so much. So much. He sold… He sold him to the… to the fighting ring.”

His sobs grew louder and Jin shushed him gently. He was lost in his pain and his grief. He had relived that night too many times.

“He… He made him watch,” he uttered.

“Watch…” Namjoon repeated. Suddenly he pulled back and Jimin hadn’t felt as dirty since coming to the Castle. “He didn’t. Please tell me he didn’t.” His voice was unsteady, coming out through gritted teeth.

Jimin couldn’t do anything other than sob.

Namjoon wrapped him up in his arms again and when he slotted his face in his neck, it was wet.

“Joonie? Are you crying?” he asked through his own tears.

He could feel him nod. “I am crying for everything you have been through. Everything I wasn’t there to protect you from. All the horrible things that monster made you believe were normal and all the beautiful ones he taught you were wrong.”

Tears were falling down Jin’s face too and Jimin reached up to touch them. “Don’t cry, please.”

Jin gave him a watery smile. “It’s hard not to.”

They stayed there for a while, whispering comforting words to each other until their tears slowed down and stopped. Jimin was about to drift off when there was a knock on the door.

“Can I come in?” you asked from the other side.

Panic seized his body again and he almost shot up in the bed but Namjoon and Jin held him in place.

“It’s okay,” Jin reassured him and then called, “Come in.”

The door opened and you walked inside. You looked the same as you had when Jimin had been in your office, casual clothes and hair pulled up in a ponytail. Had it been only a few hours ago? Less? It seemed like it had been days since he had been sitting in your lap and playfully scratching your jeans.

“So here’s-” You trailed off upon getting a better look at them. Jimin hid his face in Jin’s chest. He had to look horrible after all that crying—puffy cheeks, bloodshot eyes, and red nose. “Did something happen?”

“Jimin saw us kissing,” Jin said.

Jimin gasped. How could he say that so casually? How could he-? Unless… Unless you already knew.

Your lips parted in surprise. “Are you alright now?”

Jin looked down at Jimin. “Can I tell her?” When he nodded, Jin continued. “He thought hybrids shouldn’t be kissing each other. He was afraid you might be mad if you learned of it.”

“Mad?” You sounded so confused, Jimin felt bad. He shouldn’t have doubted you but he was so scared and fear blinded him. “Why would I be mad?”

“See? Everything is fine,” Jin told him and Jimin sagged in his arms like his strings had been cut off.

You rounded the bed and sat down at the end. “Why did you think that?”

“His past owner,” Namjoon replied for him, the hate and rage evident in his tone.

“Jiminie,” you said. “I could never be mad for something like that. Your life is your own, you are free to live it the way you want, do whatever you want. There are no rules here.”

Everything came crashing down around him and there was only one person he could think of. “Jungkook,” he muttered. He had run away from him, he had hurt them both so much for no reason. He had destroyed what could have happened between them because of unreasonable fear.

“Jungkook kissed you,” Namjoon said. “That’s the thing he couldn’t forgive himself for.”

Jimin shook his head forcefully. “Don’t say that. Please don’t say that.” The tears that had taken so long to dry were coming back. “I wanted to kiss him. I wanted him. But I thought I was betraying you. Now I’ve lost him.”

You frowned. “Betraying me? In my office, the day you ran after Yoongi, that’s what you were talking about. Oh Jiminie,” you said. “You haven’t lost him. Jungkook loves you to death. You could never lose him.”

Jimin wiped his eyes. “It was my fault that he was so hurt he had to travel to Virginia to be away from me. And all that because I was stupid. I hurt him for nothing.”

“Hey, don’t say that.” You scooted closer to them and Jimin reached a hand out to you, which you took before joining them until you were all tangled up in a mess of limbs. “He will understand if you tell him. Jungkook loves you so much.”

“But I…”

“I won’t hear anything about this, it’s a fact.” When you spoke like that, like you possessed all knowledge in the world, it was difficult not to believe you. “Do you still want to kiss him?”

His cheeks were burning. “I- Can I?”

Your fingers trailed down his neck and Jimin leaned to the side to expose more for you. “Of course, you can. You don’t have to ask me. The only person you have to ask is Jungkook.”

“What if I… What if I lost my chance? What if I destroyed what we could have?”

“You just have to tell him,” Namjoon said. “Tell him what you told us and he will understand. Have you talked about it?”

Jimin lowered his gaze to his lap. “I told him that it was wrong for us to be kissing. That we were betraying you. I-I’m sorry.”

“Don’t apologise,” you said, thumbing at his scent gland. You had learned how to make his body go pliant and syrupy like honey. “I want you to forget anything he ever told you. You are free to do what you like here, love whoever you want. I’m sorry if I haven’t made it clear. I knew there was something wrong and I should have talked to you about this. I’ve been so focused on my job that I overlooked you and I’m so sorry.”

“No, no.” He couldn’t let you believe that his own mistakes were your fault. “I didn’t want to talk about it. I was ashamed. And afraid. I shouldn’t have doubted you but I was scared. I thought it was wrong and I… I didn’t want you to know.”

He forced down the sob crawling up his neck. The lies he had been fed all his life were churning in his stomach. Why couldn’t you be his first owner? He wouldn’t have been hurting his pack then. Would they be happier?

But that wouldn’t have been possible. You’d talked a lot about how you didn’t want hybrids and without their unique pasts none of them would have ended up in the Castle.

“Next time that you’re hurting here,” you touched his forehead, “or here,” and his heart, “come to me. Talk to me. About anything. If you ever wonder if something you want to do is wrong, ask me. Most likely it isn’t but if it helps, a simple question can go a long way.”

“I will,” Jimin promised.

You raised your pinky and he intertwined your fingers with a tiny giggle.

“We should be honest with each other. When we’re hiding things even if we’re doing it to protect each other, the result is the opposite,” Namjoon said. He looked at you and it was as if a hundred words passed between you.

You tangled your fingers in his hair and Jimin purred, wriggling to get closer to you. “There is something I should tell you then but I don’t want you to be scared.”

“Scared? Is everyone okay?”

“Everyone’s alright, kitten,” you reassured him and Jimin preened at the sweet nickname. His old Master would call him kitten sometimes, it sounded like weak. When you called him kitten, it sounded like love. “I’m just afraid of making you uncomfortable because of… your past.”

“My past?” Jimin asked slowly, confused.

You combed back his hair with your fingers. “Jin and Namjoon aren’t the only ones kissing. Namjoon and I kissed first.”

“And they both kissed me,” Jin added.

What you said didn’t register at first. When it did, he looked at the three of you, all touching in one way or another. How had he not noticed? He had seen the way you gravitated towards each other when you were distressed or worried but he’d never thought…

The longing was back, stronger than before, squeezing his chest uncomfortably.

“Why didn’t you tell us?” he asked weakly. Thinking of you together, it made so much sense. But he also wanted…

“I don’t know,” you said, stroking his hair. “I mean, I do. But only about myself. We haven’t discussed this and maybe we should have. It started a while ago.” Your eyes found Namjoon’s. “It was new and a bit confusing for me. Very confusing for me. I like to put things in boxes so I know how to deal with them and I couldn’t find a box for this. We had some hard moments but we figured it out. And then we fell into Jin and… That complicated things a bit for me.”

“I didn’t know if we were supposed to tell anyone,” Jin confessed.

You reached for Jin who had ended up on Jimin’s other side. “It’s my fault. I was worried. I’m always worried about something it seems. Something happened a while ago and I guess it made it even harder.”

“What happened?” Jimin asked. You exchanged a look with Namjoon and Jin and Jimin felt out of place for a moment, the only one not knowing. “What?”

You pressed your lips into a line. “It was a couple of months ago. You aren’t the first one to learn about us. Yoongi knows. About me and Namjoon. And he has probably told Hoseok.”

“You told Yoongi?” he asked in disbelief. Although you and Yoongi were growing closer and Jimin couldn’t be happier about it, the fact that Yoongi knew about this and he didn’t stirred a feeling of betrayal inside him.

“He saw us kissing in the garden,” Namjoon said. “The night before he disappeared. He said some very messed up things I wouldn’t like to ever hear again. He was furious and I was too. We had a fight and you know what happened after.”

You hadn’t given them a reason why Yoongi had disappeared. Not you, not Namjoon, not even Yoongi himself had ever told him why he’d left. Jimin had guessed that you and Yoongi had had a fight that had pushed him to leave the Castle. He had no idea that Namjoon had been involved.

“It was a difficult time for me. It was when I went to the gala my parents organised and my mother said something… And then Yoongi just made everything worse,” you said. “He was scared and I can understand why he lashed out but it hurt all the same. And I was already having doubts.” You sighed and caressed Jimin’s cheek. He leaned into your touch like a moth drawn to a flame. “Regardless of how we act and how I view you, I’m still your owner and I’m worried… I’m worried that it may seem like I’m taking advantage of the situation.”

“What?” Jimin asked dumbly. “Is it… Is it because of me? Because of what he did?” he continued, choked up. Was he the reason you hadn’t told them? Because of what his past owner had done to him?

“All I want is for you to feel safe here,” you said. “I didn’t want to do anything that might scare you.”

Jimin surged forward and buried his face in your neck, sinking in the scent of the ocean and books. “You could never scare me. You’re… You are safe, I feel safe when I’m with you.”

“That makes me very happy,” you said, pressing a kiss to his forehead. “I care about you so much. I don’t ever want you to be afraid, especially because of something I did.”

Jimin shook his head. He was getting scent drunk from his pack’s scents, the feeling heightened by his vulnerable state. “I love you. So much.”

“I love you too, kitten,” you whispered, your breath tickling his ear and making him shiver. “We all love you so much.”

♬♩♪♩ ♩♪♩♬♬♩♪♩ ♩♪♩♬♬♩♪♩ ♩♪♩♬♬♩♪♩ ♩♪♩♬♬♩♪♩

Jimin fell asleep soon after and you had to untangle yourself from him, which wasn’t an easy endeavour with how persistent sleeping Jimin was to keep you there. Jin had to take your place for the younger hybrid to let you go. The producer of the Raven Cycle had sent you an email about some changes in the filming schedule and you had to call him to discuss that and a few other things about the filming process.

“Back to your office?” Namjoon whispered, getting up from the bed as well.

“It won’t take more than half an hour. An hour if the producer is in a particularly talkative mood,” you said quietly so as not to wake up Jimin. He deserved to rest. “I should have been more attentive to him. Maybe all of this could have been avoided if I had been more clear, if I had asked more questions.”

Namjoon caught your hand in his. “Don’t think like that. It isn’t your fault. If he had told you, you would have eased his worries. But he didn’t. You aren’t a mind reader.”

You sighed. “What happens now? Jimin knows and we can’t keep Jungkook in the dark. And there’s Yoongi and Hobi too.”

Namjoon’s thumb drew circles on your hand. He looked at you and Jin, who was watching you silently. “We can tell them if both of you want to. I think it would be for the best.”

“How exactly are we going to do that? What will we tell them?” You pressed the power key on your phone to see that you had another email from the producer. “I have to go. We’ll talk later.”

Before you could turn away, Namjoon pulled you into a quick kiss. The tension in your shoulders eased as if his lips were magic.

“An hour at most,” he reminded you.

“An hour at most,” you agreed.

The call lasted precisely fifty-six minutes. It wasn’t about anything too complicated or ground-breaking. A few scenes would be switched around and some changes to the script may follow. The producer was making it into a much bigger deal than it was and you had to be the one to give him a reality check. These things happened all the time. The sets of his show in Virginia had literally collapsed in spring because of poor construction and overlooked safety protocols, this was a piece of cake.

Ending the call, you stretched your arms above your head and headed to the towering bookshelves. You picked up two folders containing some of the earlier plans for the Raven Cycle as well as printed pages of the books completed with handwritten notes in the margins. Analyses of scenes and lines, comments, and ideas written by both you and Maggie in the first couple of your meetings.

You were so absorbed in your vision for the show stretching from a couple of years ago to last year that you almost didn’t hear the knock on the door. You had left it half open—something you had been doing more lately and was very out of character for you when you weren’t living alone—so with a push, Namjoon and Jin walked inside.

“Hey,” you greeted them, closing the folders and putting them back in their place. “Did Jimin wake up?”

“He did,” Jin said, taking a seat on the couch. “He’s better. As good as he can be. How are you?”

You turned to him surprised. “Me?”

“I can tell when you’re overthinking,” he said with a hint of smugness.

Puffing, you plopped down on the couch next to him. “Is it that obvious to anyone or just you two?” Namjoon sent you a look. “Okay, fine. Apparently, it’s obvious.” You ran your hands over your face. “What should we do now? Jungkook is the only one left in the dark. How do we tell him? What do we tell him?”

Jin placed his hand on your thigh. “Do you not want to tell him?”

“It isn’t that I don’t want him to know, that I want to keep you a secret but-”

But you did. It was easier when you didn’t have to explain to anyone what was happening between the three of you. Usually, when you got romantically involved with someone, Taylor would know about it the moment it happened and you would tell John and Zayn shortly after. You couldn’t do that now. The situation was unique and there was so much prejudice and stigma surrounding this that had you second-thinking everything.

“How do we explain?” you asked. You were learning that not everything needed labels and you were growing to be okay with that, but labels could have helped a lot in this case. “Do we just say we’re kissing? And that’s that?”

Namjoon came and sat down on your other side. “It could be as simple as that. We’re pack above everything else but there’s a romantic aspect for us as well. It doesn’t have to be this big thing, this big reveal. I love both of you, I love you as my pack and I love you as my partners. Jungkook will understand, I am sure he will.”

You thought your love for him couldn’t grow anymore. It was already too big, too wild. But in moments like this, you were proved wrong again and again.

“I love you too,” Jin said, ears pink but facing you with determination. “Both of you. In every way.”

Those words were hard to say. A little awkward, a little clunky on your tongue. You could say them just fine when it was a light-hearted joke, when it didn’t have to mean much more. In relationships, you were a lot more hesitant. You counted months before letting them out, unsure if that was truly what you felt or simply the bliss of the honeymoon phase. It was important to you that the three words didn’t lose their meaning and the gravity they held.

When it came to your hybrids, there was no doubt about what you were feeling.

“For the record,” you said. “I love you too. I have for a long time now. Probably more than I’ve ever loved anyone else. That’s why it’s so scary.”

Jin wrapped his arms around your waist and rested his head on your shoulder. “It is. But we have each other, right?”

“We do,” Namjoon promised. There was so much love and reverence in his gaze that it left you speechless.

“I never thought I could have this,” Jin admitted quietly. “This is so much more than what I allowed myself to dream about.”

You covered his hands with your own. “You deserve to be the happiest. And dream big. Big big dreams.”

He giggled and your heads bumped together lightly which made you laugh more.

When the laughter ceased, you rested back against Jin’s body. “We should tell them, shouldn’t we?”

“Only if you’re okay with it,” Namjoon said. “You don’t have to be afraid. They’re our pack.”

“What about Yoongi?” you asked. “You remember what happened the first time. This is… This looks too much like what he thought of me back then. What if he snaps again?”

You preferred to keep that night and some of the events that followed locked somewhere in a dark corner of your mind. But it was all you could think about now. You were kissing two of your hybrids, making out. Isn’t that exactly what Yoongi had accused you of?

“You are nothing like what he thought,” Namjoon said, his tone leaving no room for arguments. “We aren’t doing this as some form of repayment for letting us stay here but because we love you. And I’m sure he knows that too by now.”

“And if he says anything out of line I’ll scratch his eyes out,” Jin said. You were about to laugh before Jin stilled and you remembered. “I didn’t… I don’t know why I said that. I wouldn’t hurt any of you.”

You intertwined your fingers with his against your stomach. “I know. It’s okay. It was a joke. It was funny, it’s okay.”

Jin dropped his head, rubbing his forehead against your neck. “I had almost forgotten. It’s like that didn’t really happen to me, like it was a nightmare.”

“The fault was all his,” you said. “He should be in prison for what he did.”

“I almost blinded him, I had his blood on my hands.”

Namjoon put a hand on the side of his neck, his thumb caressing his cheek. “And he deserved worse. I’m so sorry you had to go through that but you did what you had to do. You’re here with us now, you’re safe.”

Jin shot forward and kissed Namjoon, trapping you between their bodies. The passion of their kiss vibrated through your core as they devoured each other. Jin’s lips were bitten raw and red when he pulled back. He strained his neck to kiss you too and you turned around to make it easier.

The three of you fell on the couch, giggling and kissing.

♬♩♪♩ ♩♪♩♬♬♩♪♩ ♩♪♩♬♬♩♪♩ ♩♪♩♬♬♩♪♩ ♩♪♩♬♬♩♪♩

Jungkook was taking advantage of the sunny days and the nice summer weather before autumn and its strong winds came. He had set up his canvas in the back garden and had spread his supplies on the grass. He had painted every corner of the garden and most of his pack mates at some point and he was running out of ideas. No, that wasn’t exactly right. He wasn’t running out of ideas but he was apprehensive about painting something that he could only see in his mind and not something solid in front of him.

He cocked his head to the side and stared at the empty canvas. He could paint a sunset, he was good at those, or a forest. In his sketchbook, there were a few pages of messy line art dedicated to Cabeswater from the Raven Cycle and its real-life version in Virginia. He could envision the colours, the dark greens, blues, and purples. The magic thrumming in the trees. He could envision it all too well but he wasn’t sure he could make it come to life on the canvas.

The paint tubes were lined in a tray that used to be pristine once but was now smeared all over with multiple colours of paint. The shades of green were running out. Jungkook would have to run upstairs to the atelier at some point to get more. The purples were almost full still.

“What are you painting, Jungkookie?”

Jungkook was startled, he hadn’t noticed Hoseok walking up to him. The fox hybrid’s fluffy tail was wagging behind him as if he were a dog hybrid. It looked very soft, Jungkook wondered how soft it would feel under his fingers. Not that it would ever happen, hybrids’ tails were very sensitive and they rarely let anyone touch them. In all of his life, no one had touched Jungkook’s tail, it was small and easily hidden underneath his clothes.

“I haven’t decided yet,” Jungkook said, taking stock of his paints hoping they might offer him some inspiration.

“I’m sure that whatever you paint is going to be beautiful,” Hoseok said with a large smile. He sounded so sure like it was a fact of life.

Behind him, Taehyung stared at the canvas and supplies with large eyes. Jungkook had seen him watching him paint before and Hoseok had shared how fascinated the tiger hybrid was with the gallery.

“Do you want to paint with me?” he asked them.

Hoseok chuckled but Taehyung’s eyes widened.

“Painting isn’t where my talents lie,” Hoseok joked. “Taehyung should try though. He might enjoy it.” He talked in Korean to the other hybrid, who seemed to be at a loss for words.

Taehyung said something that had Hoseok shaking his head and gently guiding him to stand in front of the canvas. Jungkook picked up a round paintbrush and held it out to him. Taehyung reached for it reluctantly and held it as if it was gold.

“We can paint something together, yeah?” Taehyung nodded cutely. “You can pick any colour you want.” He pointed to the tray. Hoseok didn’t translate but Taehyung went closer, inspecting all the colours.

“Really?” he asked. His deep voice always startled Jungkook but there was something about it that made him crave to hear it more.

“Really,” Jungkook said. “You can choose one now and then you can choose more. Whichever ones you want.”

Taehyung considered it for a moment before pointing to a royal purple and looking at Jungkook for approval.

“That’s very pretty,” Hoseok complimented his choice. He was cross-legged on the floor, a safe distance away so he would be out of the danger zone of paint splatters but close enough so he could watch.

“It is very pretty,” Jungkook agreed. “Let’s begin.”

They started with simple lines and curves. Taehyung was making abstract faces that Jungkook found oddly endearing. The whole process was fun. They didn’t speak a lot but Taehyung was smiling wide in a way Jungkook had never seen before. Being happy suited him and Jungkook vowed to do anything in his power to help him be happy more.

The tingle in his nose from the scent of vanilla and muffins made him look back.

“That looks nice,” Jimin said walking towards them. “Is Taehyung helping you?”

“I was running out of ideas. Taehyung is of great help.” The tiger hybrid had stopped painting and was looking at the two of them.

When Jimin reached them, he wrapped his arms around Jungkook’s waist. “Can we stay like this while you paint?”

It wouldn’t be the most comfortable, restricting his movement quite a bit, but Jungkook liked a challenge. “You don’t have to ask.”

He started painting again, Taehyung following his example. Jimin stayed glued to his back while they worked.

“Are you okay?” he whispered to him quietly. His scent was intense and Jungkook knew that something must be bothering him.

“I am, I promise.”

Please comment and reblog it motivates me to keep writing

#castlebangtan #bts #bts x reader #bts hybrid au #namjoon x reader #jungkook x reader #jimin x reader #seokjin x reader #yoongi x reader #hoseok x reader #taehyung x reader #poly!bts #poly!bts x reader #bts fanfiction #bts scenarios #bts hurt/comfort #bts angst

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all-the-things-2020 · 5 months

Text

Late Night Talking - Chapter Two

Summary: Emily and Dieter go on their first date.

Rating: PG-13

Tagging @rhoorl because Working Title inspired me to write this

I spent most of that Friday getting ready. A mani-pedi and eyebrow wax at the salon, a mini makeover at Ulta, and a blowout and style at my hairdresser. I’d debated buying a new dress, but decided to spend my money on the beauty treatments instead. I wore my favorite dress, a comfortable but clingy teal blue wrap that showed just enough cleavage.

By the time I was done at the hairdresser, it was almost 3 o’clock and I headed for Pasadena. Traffic on the 210 could be a bitch at any time, but was especially bad on Fridays, so I didn’t want to take any chances. Better to get there early and have to kill some time than to be late. Objectively, I knew that if I got caught in traffic, I could text Dieter (everyone in SoCal understood getting stuck in traffic) but I didn’t want to have to make him wait. So I left ridiculously early and for once traffic was light. I pulled into the parking lot behind Vroman’s at 4:08.

Well, might as well browse the store a bit, I thought, rather than sit in the car. It was summer and too bloody hot to sit in a car without the A/C running. I walked into the bookshop and took a deep breath. The smell of brand new books filled my lungs and helped settle my nerves a little. Just a little, though, because I was on the verge of an anxiety attack every time I realized I was actually going on a date with Dieter Bravo.

I hadn’t told anyone about my plans other than Sam. I was fully aware of the rumors about Dieter’s past, and I knew at least one if my friends would try to warn me off. I was also very aware that he’d done a stint in rehab and had stayed out of the headlines ever since. I was willing to give him the benefit of the doubt.

I wandered the aisles, reacquainting myself with the layout of the store so I could impress Dieter with my knowledge of the place. I’d talked it up so much but it had been a while since I’d had the chance to visit and I didn’t want to look like an idiot. Really, though, I was just nervous and trying to keep myself busy. Finally, at 4:30 I gave up and went into The 1894.

I took a seat at the bar and ordered a glass of wine. Maybe that will settle my nerves, I thought. I asked the bartender if I could save the seat next to me. “I’m meeting someone at five,” I told her. “I got here early.”

She shrugged. “Sure, but I can’t stop anyone from sitting there if we run out of seats.”

I understood, but so far the place was only about half full. Most people hadn’t gotten off work yet. I sat my purse on the empty seat next to me and sipped my wine. Twice people came up to me and asked if the seat was available, and I told them no, someone was sitting there. They moved on without a fuss, but it was a little annoying. When the third person walked up, I was about to roll my eyes and make a smart remark, but before I could turn, a familiar voice said, “No fair starting without me.”

I picked up my purse and he slid onto the seat, leaning his arm on the bar. He was wearing a pale blue short sleeved button down shirt, the top few buttons left undone, and a pair of dark blue slacks. Nothing too fancy, but a definite step up from the t-shirt and jeans from the other day. His hair was mostly tamed, but still a bit messy. It was a good look on him.

“Hi,” he said, with a smile.

“Hi,” I said, smiling back. “I got here super early. Traffic wasn’t as bad as I thought it would be.”

He nodded. “Yeah, I got here faster than I expected, too,” he said. “Guess the freeway gods wanted us to start things early.” He winked and I melted inside. “That dress looks great on you, by the way,” he went on. “The color really brings out your eyes.”

Now I really was blushing, and it wasn’t from the wine. “Thanks,” I said. “You look nice, too.”

He shrugged. “I clean up fairly well.” The bartender came over and asked if she could get him anything. “I’ll have the same,” he said, pointing at my wine glass. “And put it on one check, please.”

I picked up my glass and took a sip. “The feminist in me wants to insist I’m perfectly capable of buying my own drinks,” I said, “but my bank balance is telling her to shut up.”

He laughed and laid his hand on mine. “Tell your inner feminist I respect her very much, but I agree with your bank balance that she needs to mind her own business for a while.” He rubbed his thumb against the back of my hand and I took another sip of wine to allow myself to recover a bit of composure. Fortunately, the bartender brought his wine and he let go to take his glass.

“Cheers,” he said, tipping his glass toward mine.

“Cheers,” I replied, as we clinked our glasses together. He maintained eye contact as he took a drink.

“Nice choice,” he said after he’d swallowed. He pulled a menu closer and waved the bartender over. “Can we get a meat & cheese board, and some olives?” She nodded. “Sorry,” he said. “I got sidetracked this morning and didn’t get lunch before my meeting.”

“No worries,” I said. “Who knows if or when we’ll get around to dinner. I don’t know about you, but I can spend hours in this place.” I nodded toward the bookshop proper.

He smiled. “Great minds think alike,” he said. There was that smile again. I found myself smiling back, sure I looked like a total goofball. He reached out for my hand again and gave it a little squeeze. My insides turned instantly to goo.

“So, um, how was your meeting?” I asked.

His face lit up. “It was really good,” he said. “I’m in talks to do a TV series.” He took a sip of wine. “The producer has a couple of different options for my character, wanted my input on which one I liked best.”

“And let me guess, you can’t say a word.”

He grimaced. “Nope, sorry. They’d feed me to the … what’s that thing that ate Boba Fett in Star Wars, that giant sand worm thing?”

“Oh, yeah, I know what you mean,” I said. I searched my brain for the arcane Star Wars knowledge that I knew lurked in there somewhere. “The sarlaac? Is that it?”

Dieter shrugged. “Sounds about right. Whatever it’s called, they’d feed me to it.” Just then the bartender brought our food, and he popped an olive in his mouth.

“By the way, thanks for not giving me the Look,” he said. He nodded toward his wine glass. “Everybody knows I’ve been to rehab, so I usually get the Look from someone when they see me drinking alcohol.”

“It’s none of my business,” I told him. “You’re an adult and so am I.”

He smiled. “Well, thanks again,” he said quietly. “I’m in a pretty good place right now. I have my rules and they’re working for me. A lot of people judge me too harshly.”

We nibbled on the food, ordered another glass of wine, and chit chatted about work, the weather, and other boring stuff that actually seemed important and enthralling because it gave us each a glimpse into the other’s life.

He offered me the last morsel of cheese on the board, but I declined and he ate it, then drained his glass. “So,” he said, clapping his hands together. “Are we going to buy some books or what?”

I finished my wine and smiled. “Let’s do some damage to my bank account,” I said. He laughed, asked for the check and paid it in cash, leaving a ridiculously large tip that made the bartender break into an appreciative smile. I wasn’t sure if he was normally a large tipper or if he was just trying to impress me, but either way, I was happy for the bartender, who had been running herself ragged as the bar started to fill up with people stopping by for after work drinks.

“Shall we?,” he said as we stood up. He let me walk a half step ahead of him, and I felt his hand at the small of my back, gently guiding me through the maze of tables and customers toward the bookstore.

“Where do we start?,” he asked when we reached the sales floor.

“Anywhere you want,” I said. “Fiction? Nonfiction?”

“Definitely fiction,” he replied. I took his hand and led him toward the fiction shelves, glad I had scouted out the store layout earlier.

We wandered the shelves, pulling out a book here and there.

“Have you read this?”

“Oh, I love this one.”

Our reading tastes were not exactly the same, but we overlapped quite a bit. I pulled a copy of The Eyre Affair off the shelf. “Please tell me you’ve read this,” I said.

He shook his head, taking the book from me to read the back. “No, I haven’t. Wait, what the hell is this?” He laughed. “Dodos?”

“Don’t knock it,” I said. “It’s virtually impossible to describe this book without it sounding like the stupidest thing ever, but trust me, it’s brilliant.”

He raised one eyebrow and gave me a look of disbelief. “Interactive Shakespeare,” I said. “Time travel. An independent Wales. Neanderthals. And Jane Eyre is missing!”

He laughed. “Okay, okay, I’ll take your word for it.” He started to put the book back on this shelf but I snatched it from his hand.

“No, I’m buying this for you,” I said. “You have to read it. Non negotiable.”

“And what if I don’t like it?,” he asked.

“Then I’m afraid I’ll have to kill you,” I teased.

“I knew it,” he said, with an exaggerated groan. “My characters almost always die. It’s this face. People just want to kill it.”

“I like your face,” I said.

He leaned against the shelf. “Really?” He seemed surprised. I just gave him a look and he laughed. “Okay, so if I don’t like the book I die; what happens if I like it?”

“Then you become One of Us and must be initiated,” I said.

His eyebrows shot up. “This initiation … am I gonna like it?” He stepped closer to me.

“Oh, yeah,” I said. “You’ll love it. But you’ve got to read the book first.” I tapped him on the chest with the book. He chuckled and shook his head.

“Okay, but now I get to pick out a book for you,” he said. He took my hand and led me up and down the aisles, making a show of picking out just the right book. All the while, our fingers were entwined and he idly rubbed his thumb against my palm. Finally, he decided on a novel by an obscure Lithuanian author that sounded rather depressing to me, but which he insisted was better than the cover blurb would lead you to believe.

We continued to explore the shop, finding something interesting in every aisle. I picked up a tiny Jane Austen doll, which he insisted on buying for me. He admired a leather key fob with a Steinbeck quote, which I insisted on buying for him. Eventually, we each had a small stack of books and little trinkets picked out for each other.

“Ready for dinner?,” he asked.

“Yeah, we’d better get out of here before I find anything more to buy,” I said. We went to the registers, made our purchases and then traded bags.

“So,” he said when we’d stepped outside. “Any good restaurants around here?”

“I know a nice tapas place in Old Pasadena,” I said. “But we’ll have to drive there. It’s like five or six blocks away.”

He laughed. “Oh, you are such a Californian,” he said. “If you’d lived in New York, you’d know five or six blocks is nothing.” He slipped his arm around my shoulders. “Come on, it’s a nice night, let’s take a walk.”

We walked west on Colorado Blvd. It was still light out but starting to get dusky in the shadows of the tall buildings. I’d always found downtown Pasadena a bit “big city” and overwhelming, which I mentioned to Dieter. He laughed. “I’ll take you to New York City sometime,” he said. “Then we’ll talk about what constitutes a ‘big city’.”

I held my tongue, but the fact that he’d casually assumed we’d have a future together of some sort gave me a thrill. Even if we were just friends in that future, I’d take it, although of course I wanted more.

The walk to the restaurant was leisurely, after Dieter realized I couldn’t walk as quickly as he could (the curse of being a short person walking with a tall person), which was perfectly fine with me. He kept his arm around my shoulders as we navigated the foot traffic that always filled the sidewalks in Pasadena, especially on a Friday night. Only one person stopped us to ask for his autograph, although several others did a double take as we went past them.

We reached the restaurant and fortunately didn’t have to wait too long for a table. Most of the customers were crowded in the bar and lounge area, but we were tucked in a corner at a table.

“Nice place,” Dieter said, looking around appreciatively. As soon as he opened the menu, he grinned. “Ooh, they have oysters!”

I made a face. “What’s that face for?,” he said.

“I’m not a big fan of seafood,” I admitted.

“Well, I’m still getting oysters,” he said, with a wink. Our waiter came over and Dieter ordered a gin martini and a half dozen oysters to start with. I opted for potato empanadas and a mojito. By the time the waiter came back with our drinks and appetizers, we’d decided on a pizza to split for our main course.

“Trade you,” Dieter said, offering me an oyster after he saw how good my empanadas looked.

“Ugh, no,” I said. “Those things are disgusting. I’m very picky about what I put in my mouth.”

He nearly spit out his martini and I felt my face go red as I realized how that sounded. “I just mean, I’m a picky eater,” I protested, but he was already laughing so hard he had to wipe his eyes with his napkin.

“Oh, my God,” he said when he’d managed to catch his breath. “That was priceless. But the offer still stands. Those empanadas look really good.” He made puppy dog eyes at me and I shoved an empanada into his mouth.

“Mmph,” he said. When he’d managed to swallow it, he picked up an oyster and waved it in front of my face. “Come on,” he said. “Just try one. I bet you’ll like it.”

I shook my head.

“If you eat one, I’ll give you a kiss,” he offered.

I pouted at him. “I was hoping I’d already done enough to earn a kiss,” I said

“I meant, I’ll give you a kiss right now,” he clarified. “You’re definitely getting a kiss before the evening’s over.” He did that thing with his jaw that always turned me on.

I closed my eyes. “All right, in that case, I’ll do it, but if I don’t like it I get to spit it out, okay?”

“Deal,” he said. “Open up.” I opened my mouth and he tipped the oyster in. I shuddered a bit at the slimy texture and briny taste. “Just swallow it,” he said. I did and almost gagged, but I managed to get it down. I opened my eyes and he was smiling mischievously at me. He leaned across the table to press a gentle kiss against my lips. He tasted like gin and oysters and empanadas. “Worth it?”

“Definitely,” I replied with a lazy smile. “But I’m never eating one of those things again.”

“Fair enough,” he said. We talked about favorite (and not so favorite) foods while we waited for the pizza to arrive. After it arrived, we talked about movies and hobbies and a million other things. Finally, we’d eaten as much as we could and the waiter dropped off the check. Again, Dieter took care of it, this time with a credit card. I made a feeble attempt to ask what my share was, but he waved me off. “Tell your inner feminist she can pay next time,” he said.

We walked slowly back to the parking lot behind Vroman’s enjoying the cooler air now that the sun had gone completely down. We reached my car first and I dug out my keys, unlocked the doors and put my bag in the back seat. “Well,” I said, not sure exactly what to say.

“Well,” he said back, stepping closer, almost pressing me against the side of the car. He sat his bag on the ground and took my face between his hands. This time, the kiss was still gentle, but lasted longer. It was followed by a flurry of shorter but fiercer kisses that made my toes curl. I slid my arms up around his neck and his hands fell to my waist, pulling me closer.

“Mmm,” he murmured. “I had a wonderful time tonight.”

“Me, too,” I replied. He kissed me again.

“We should probably say good night,” he said. I nodded, and kissed him back.

“Someone’s going to wonder why we’re making out in the parking lot,” he said.

“Yeah, we should probably stop,” I said. We didn’t stop.

Finally, a woman and her kids walked past and she made a snarky remark. Dieter laughed and pressed his forehead against mine. “Okay, I think that killed the mood,” he said. He stepped back. “Text me when you get home, so I know you got there safe,” he said. “I’ll call you tomorrow and we can figure out where to go next time.”

“I will,” I said, fumbling with my car keys, which I’d somehow managed not to drop during all that. I opened the car door and dropped into the drivers’ seat. Dieter leaned in to press one last kiss against my cheek.

“Drive safe,” he said, then picked up his bag and headed for his own car, two rows over from mine. I couldn’t resist watching him walk away, admiring the view.

When he got into his car, I turned away and slid my key in the ignition. I’d need the long drive home to calm myself down.

*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^

NOTES: Vroman’s is a real bookshop in Pasadena. If you ever get the chance to visit, do so! And do it soon: the owner is retiring and the shop (as well as Book Soup) is up for sale. Fingers crossed they find a new owner who wants to carry on the 100+ year tradition of this indie bookshop. The restaurant is loosely based on a little place I had lunch with friends during a conference in Pasadena. The Eyre Affair is a real book and it is AMAZING. The obscure Lithuanian author is completely made up; I figured Dieter would be into something out of the ordinary.

#pedro pascal character fanfiction #dieter bravo x ofc #dieter bravo #dieter bravo fanfiction

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midnightduel · 8 months

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darkness and light

Leo had never liked the myth of Icarus.

He had never liked the story of the boy who had tried to fly too close to the sun; who had felt the wax melt off his back and perished deep within the dark waters, where nobody ever saw him again. It had always made something crawl under his skin – it always made him feel like something was stuck up his throat.

He supposed he knew why, now, he never liked the myth.

Leo falls in darkness, with his own wax melting off his back and floating into darkness, leaving behind long red gashes up his arms and his shoulders – and an emotional wound so deep he could barely feel himself breathe. He can barely hear himself think through all of it; all he hears is the screaming through the darkness, the colors dancing behind his eyes if he closes them for too long. Some of this screaming is familiar… and the other? Chilling to the bone.

He hopes the water comes soon. That would be nice – there would at least be comfort in knowing something cool and soothing would at least come quickly. There would be comfort in knowing he wouldn’t suffer too long, after trying to hold the sun in the palm of his hands.

But until then – the terror pounds in his veins, and it tears him apart. His heart screams at him to wish to fall slower so someone might catch him; his brain tells him they are the canon ball when weighed against the feather – no matter how much they might wish to fall slower, gravity was doing its job too well to know any other possibility.

…

He should have listened. He should have listened.

Raph – Raph I’m sorry, Raph. I’m sorry. I should have done better, I should have been better. Would the ending been different had I listened? I didn’t want to fight you. I didn’t want to make you turn into a monster. I never asked you to sacrifice yourself for me.

I never wanted to hurt any of you.

I’m sorry. I’m sorry. I’m sorry. Can you hear me now?

…

The darkness does not bear his brother’s voice. It does nothing but gape, and he hears the static in his ears and the large puncture hole in his chest grow wider. There is no one there to hold his hand, there is no one there to say I hear you.

He misses them. He missed his brothers already. The water was getting closer by the second, he could feel it, and he missed his brothers. He didn’t want to die alone. He didn’t want to be gone and forgotten like a bad memory. He wanted them to know that he had tried to reach the sun for them, he wanted them to know that he never meant to leave them behind to burn – he wanted them to know. Know and know like he never let them in before.

Would Donnie be okay? Would he fall in his lab and disappear? Would he mourn the twin he had and live in between planes, with one soul lost to a dimension meant to be a cold Prison?

Would Mikey try to fix everything? Would he be consumed by his own fire, would he try to fill a hole in his shape that he never was meant to fit into anyway?

Would April know how to lean on others? Would his father know how to walk by himself?

Leo feels it when he crashes against the waves of the water – and he feels it when a claw against his chest holds him down and whispers nobody will ever find him again. That nobody cared enough to open up this Prison again. He and the warlord holding him down and making him sink deeper into the cold arms of the waiting death were the only ones left here forever and ever until Time disintegrated and the timelines collapsed upon themselves.

And Leo believes it. He believes this truth – this sentence he gave to himself the moment his wings started to melt.

Maybe he didn’t mean much of anything, anymore – maybe he was just a boy sinking deep into the waters – but at least he knows his story will be a grain of sand onto a beach, long buried by the others that will take their place alongside his.

Let him be Icarus.

#rottmnt #my writing #rise of the teenage mutant ninja turtles #rise of the tmnt #rise tmnt #tmnt #tmnt 2018 #rottmnt leo #whumptober #wrote this for 'whumptober'#(aka: L sent a list and I saw the prompt for number 2 and I took that and ran away with it)

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raptorsaurusmelain · 9 months

Text

Let me show you... Youtube - chapter 12

Little chapter by chapter, the story is following the game. (Am I reading the manga in parallel to be sure I miss nothing ? Yes.)

Anyway, today I pre-ordered Vil's figurine, I can't wait to be in december and receive it.

Warning : no proof reading, English is not my mother tongue.

If you are interested in reading this fic, the tag "#twst lmsyy" will give you all the chapters.

─── ･｡ﾟ☆: .☽ . :☆ﾟ. ───

After her day, the brunette went to the school store to prepare for the overblot after care.

She was browsing through the shelf of the shop when Sam interpelled her. “Hello Dr Devi ! What can I do for you today ?”

[Of course he knows. But time to lie.] “Hello Sam, I am preparing for… My periods.” She said, whispering in his ear the last part.

Sam was a little embarrassed (as if it was possible). “I do not have everything prepared for ladies hygiene… Do you wish to order ? Like this I will have stock next time !”

[Actually… It wasn’t a bad idea.] She thought. Her basket was mostly full with cakes and chocolates, but she didn’t think about what would happen if she really needed pads or tampons. Damn, what a clever lie. What a smart woman.

That’s how she was at the counter, with a catalog on feminine products. She was very entertaining to watch, her face morphing from a simple surprise to an horrified expression reading the list of products that could be purchased.

She gave her list to Sam, with the brand and quantity on it. She also purchased wax stripes and razors because she was doing a chase of body hair. She added a headset to listen to music while doing her job. It was a Wony wireless sh-1000-xm5 with active noise balance, like the one she had on Earth.

Sam did a little chit chat with her, to get to know her better you know ? “So you have a thesis in artificial intelligence ? You should speak with the Ignihyde little imps, they would be thrilled to have a young woman understanding their craze for technology !”

She smiled “I know I should speak with them, I need to buy a gaming computer and some games !”

Sam’s eyebrows rose. “You are a gamer ? What a woman ! You will become popular with the boys.”

The woman pondered. “Well, I hope it is not masculine toxicity here too. I had a lot of misogynist men when I played online… Plus I am an old lady for them, I doubt they will be a ‘Victoria’s fanclub’.” She laughed at the second part.

Sam dared to ask. “How old are you ? You don’t look a day over 22 !”

Victoria's laugh doubled. “Oh boy, I am 29. Don’t flatter me too much !”

Sam was astonished. “What’s your beauty secret ?”

She winked. “Anti-aging cream, moisturize, sleep and not have infants. The holy quartet, my dear.”

The man laughed. “I love you already.”

With her order ticket and her aftercare basket she went to the dorm. She prepared a dish of bolognese pastas with parmesan on the side, since she didn’t know if Yuu liked cheese. While waiting for her children, she finished setting up the old TV to see if it was still working under the eyes of the 3 ghosts. She cursed a lot seeing that the rats had eaten the alimentation cord. Well… Tomorrow she will order a new TV apparently. She needed a source of information and with this the children could watch movies and series on the weekends. They needed to blend like they could so they wouldn’t be bullied.

She was cut in her thoughts by a “We’re home ! We have a gift for you Victoria !”

The woman was surprised. “Oh ? What it is ?”

Yuu opened a box and revealed a slice of Mont Blanc tart. “Tadam ! We made them earlier !”

Victoria, put a hand on her heart, melting from the cuteness. “Ooooh Baby, you shouldn’t have…”

Grim interrupted the moment. “So I can eat it ?”

Victoria answered in 0.5s. “No, it’s mine. How was the afternoon ? The supper is ready.”

Grim began his eventful story of how they went to the dorm that morning with Deuce, met Cater, had a meal with Trey and Cater, met Riddle, got to gather chestnuts and…

“And we made the tart with magic !! Aren’t I cool ?” Finished Grim.

Victoria clapped “You are the best Grim. You will be a great mage if you continue like this.”

Grim puffed out his chest. “Of course, my underling. I won’t forget you !”

The Child finished their pasta. “We can get dessert now… Tell us if it tastes good !”

The woman could see that Yuu was borderline praying for it to taste good. She took a bite and hummed. “It is very good ! Very chestnut-y ! I like it.”

The adolescent exhaled, cheered up. “Trey did most of the baking but..”

Victoria placed her finger tip on Yuu’s lips. “Shhh, you participated in the baking and it is enough for me. I hope tomorrow will go well.”

Even if she knew it wouldn’t go well…

Tag : @boba-tea-fish @hipsterteller

#disney twisted wonderland #twisted wonderland #twst #disney twst #twst lmsyy #twst fanfic #twst yuu #twst sam #twst wonderland

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ramwritess · 1 year

Text

At this point in Toby’s life, having a gun held against his head while he was trying to withdraw money from the bank was an inconvenience at best. He’d been kidnapped so much the villains and heroes in Passview knew him on a first name basis, and he’d foolishly hoped that Newleaf would be different. Clearly he was wrong. “If you even try to stop me, I will shoot this random - for the love of God, what the fuck are you doing?!” The villain, The Culprit, demanded while Toby tried to pick up his card with his shoe.

“I - I’m trying to get my card. I was trying to do something similar to you but legally. ” So technically the safest option when in a new town and not knowing how trigger happy this town's villains were is to not sass them, but he’d done a bit of research, hoping against his better judgment that he wouldn’t need it, and was pretty sure The Culprit wouldn’t shoot him. At least he hoped so. He didn’t feel like getting shot today.

The man hit the side of Toby’s head with the barrel of his gun “if I were you I wouldn’t talk like that in this position.”

“Yeah, well if I were you I wouldn’t threaten to shoot people, but will you look at that.”

This time Culprit ignored him “Give me the - goddammit! “ He said, getting interrupted by the sound of the doors flying open, and flew up grabbing Toby’s legs with the hand that wasn’t holding the gun and flew around facing the hero, The Paragon.

“Culprit! Let go of the civilian.”

“You want me to drop him?” Despite his cheerful tone he sounded annoyed. ‘I must have distracted him’ Toby thought, “Honestly, I just might, he’s a bit loud. What do you think?”

“Absolutely not! What do you want?!”

Toby scoffed quietly, thinking it was pretty obvious what Culprit wanted “What do you think? I’m at a bank sweetheart. I'd like some money and if I don’t get any I’m shooting this poor puppy in the head”

“That’s not going to happen.”

“And why not?”

Suddenly Toby felt something hot on his face, like melted wax. The gun Culprit was holding had melted “You don’t have a gun.” The Paragon said simply, “Put the civilian down, stop being a coward, and fight me.”

“Alright, fine. If you wanted me alone, you could have asked politely. ” Culprit sat him down and Paragon almost immediately threw themselves at him while Toby sat down, just hoping this ended soon. It did in fact end soon and as soon Toby got home, and even before that, he hoped he hadn’t drawn too much attention to himself or, if nothing else, that The Culprit hadn’t found him all that interesting. He hated getting kidnapped all the time.

#writblr #heroes and villains #villain x civilian #my writing #writing snippet

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thisentertaining · 2 years

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Martin and Gerry Foster Brothers AU Part 4

The boys try to get as far from the boy’s home as possible, and Gerry finds an article that reminds him of a place a Leitner is hidden. A Statement is altered.

PART 1 PART 5 Ao3

Gerry doodled a melting wax person in the corner of a page about the Desolation. There was plenty of space because Martin had filled 4 lines with just ‘AGNES?????’. The younger teen was leaning against the train window, fast asleep. He had managed to ‘I can’t believe we lost the tickets, mum and da are going to kill us! This could be our last chance to see Nan with her health’ his way into getting people to pay for tickets halfway across the country, which at least gave them a good place to stay overnight and hopefully got them far enough away that they were leaving everyone who knew about them behind.

Unfortunately, while ‘orphanage burnt down’ made for a popular local news story, ‘orphanage that burnt down may have hosted a serial killer’ made for an even more popular national story, so they still heard people talking about as new passengers boarded. Luckily, as a pair of teenagers it was easy to throw hoods over their faces and avoid eye contact with strangers. Gerry wasn’t sure what they would do once their tickets ran out, but for the moment it was enough that they were relatively safe and his brother was getting some rest.

A worker went through the mostly-empty train car, picking up rubbish that people had left behind during the day. The man picked up a newspaper that must have been there for some time, as the city proudly displayed across the header was much closer to their destination than their starting point. That would be a place to start at least. “Hey,” He said, whisper-yelling for fear of waking the boy leaning against him. “Can I have that?”

The man, who really wasn’t much older than Gerry, shrugged. “You must be really bored.”

“Got me.” They nodded and the other man went on his way.

Gerry frowned at the newspaper. He didn’t know why he thought it would be useful. It was mostly global or country news, and the local stories were all too local. Crafting guilds donating to charities, schools that had won some big something-or-other, plenty of holiday events and recipes. He was about to drop it out of frustration when he saw a notice in a small box, explaining that all Pall Mall Reform Club activities would be on pause due to building renovations.

He frowned, brow furrowing. He… recognized that name. It was one of the many, many places Mum would rant about, a place connected to Smirke and Leitner. It had been years since he’d last seen his mother, but as he told Martin, this kind of stuff had a supernatural way of sticking to your head. He was certain of it, this place had… spooky stuff in it, and it was ever going to be unearthed, it would be now.

“Whassat?” Martin mumbled as he woke up, a large yawn breaking through as he moved to sit up straight.

“There’s an evil book hidden under this building.”

“What? Like one of Light-Nerd’s monster books?” The boy asked, still clearly working on waking up.

Gerry snorted. “Leitner, but I like your name better.”

“Hm. Why is there a book in the building?”

“Dunno. I just remember Mum talking about it. She never went for it because of the building, but if they’re doing work on it, they might dig it up.”

“Should probably avoid it then, if your mum’s going to be there.”

“Nah, that’s not her style. She won’t go looking for it herself. She’ll just watch the workers to see which one goes mad or dies, and take it or buy it from them.”

“That’s… morbid.”

“It’s practical.”

“I guess. So, what are we going to do? Get off at the next stop, uh, wherever that is? Or we can try to get the tickets changed to somewhere else. Or we can go to the original destination and just lay low or…” Gerry said nothing, looking at the article. “You want to go after the book, don’t you?”

“Maybe.”

Martin sputtered. “What would we even do with it?”

“Well, fire worked the last time.”

“You want to burn the Leitner?”

“Yeah? I mean, it’s not like we’ve got much else of a plan and there isn’t anyone else whose going to bother to do it. Look, Mum gets these books for… for power. For control, to get whatever she wants. She’ll do… bad things with it, but we can get rid of it. We can help people.”

Martin said nothing for a long moment, looking down. “It… it would be nice to… to help people, but… Gerry I’m scared. That was the worst thing I’d seen in my whole life and- and you want to just run right back to it?”

“This shouldn’t be as bad, I-its just… someone is going to end up with it. If it isn’t us, then its going to be someone who doesn’t know anything about this, and they’re going to get hurt, maybe die. We can stop it.”

The younger boy took in a deep breath, and looked his friend deep in the eye. “I’m with you. If you think we can do this… I trust you.”

“Anchors.” Gerry said, and still not quite comprehending what it meant, Martin nodded.

“Anchors.”

____________________________________________

RELEVANT EXCERPTS TAKEN FROM STATEMENT OF HAROLD SILVANA, STATEMENT GIVEN JUNE 4th 2002 (To be recorded several years from now)

… It was about two in the morning when the kids showed up, two boys. It was just me and Rachael Turley, who does most of our marble work, though we were mostly just doing surveying at that point. Alfred Bartlett was out getting coffee, though who knows where from at that time of night. I think he must have forgotten to lock the door when he headed out, and that’s how they got in. That said, this was still the first week in March and it was pretty cold, so I’m surprised we didn’t notice the draught.

In the end I suppose it doesn’t matter. The fact is that Rachel and me had been sat there chatting for maybe five minutes when we noticed we weren’t alone. We noticed the older one first, a thin kid in his late teens, I’d guess. He was dressed all in black, with heavy looking boots and a T-shirt with the logo of some band emblazoned on it, Megadon or Mastodon, or something like that. His hair was long and greasy, almost down to his shoulders, a bright red that kinda clashed with his aesthetic. The one behind him was just as tall, but a bit beefier, you know. Dressed just about as different as night and day in some kind of pastel sweater and trousers with sneakers, shorter hair and glasses. Thought they were the same age at first, but now I think that he was a bit younger. He looked quite a bit more awkward than the other kid too.

Neither of them looked like they were supposed to be sulking around the Reform Club. I could be convinced that the first boy was a rich child going through a ‘rebellious period’ but there was no way any parent at that club would let their kid go out in clothes as threadbare as what the second one was wearing. Still, I decided that it wouldn’t be the first time a rebellious kid snuck his lower class boyfriend somewhere he shouldn’t be, so couldn’t be entirely sure. I decided to be gentle in my initial enquiries and asked if they were lost, told them this part of the basement was off-limits due to renovations.

The first kid shook his head and asked if we’d found anything yet. Any of “Leitner’s pages”. The other one corrected to ‘Light Nerd’ and they both chucked, but I was too surprised to react. I wondered how long they’d been standing there, because Rachel and I had just been talking about the man…

…I asked if they’d been eavesdropping, but the second kid just repeated the question, asking what we found. I was just about done with these kids, and started to tell them that they were going to have to leave, when Rachel interrupted me and asked what there was to find. The first kid laughed, though the second was looking nervous, as if worried they’d found the wrong place.

“Can you smell it?” the first kid said, and the three of us- Me, Rachel, and the bigger kid- took a deep breath. I swear, for a brief moment, I could smell something. Damp old stone and musty paper, just a faint whiff. It took me off guard, and I think that was why I just stood there as he walked past me and picked up the hammer. He strode over to one of the walls and, with a swing stronger than I would have thought possible from his age and skinny frame, he buried it into the wall. I heard a scream, high-pitched, but it definitely didn’t come from any of us.

“Gerry!” The bigger kid said, looking as shocked as the rest of us. “Give a warning next time.”

This was enough to break me out of my stupor and I ran over and wrestled the hammer from the kid, Gerry I guess. He struggled and flailed, though he didn’t say anything. Immediately the bigger kid was there trying to pull me off him, kid had stronger arms than I thought and managed to pull him off and started yelling, both at me and the other kid. As I tried to calm things down, Rachel called over me, and I looked at where the wall had been hit. In the center of it was a neat hole; the other side was darkness. There shouldn’t have been anything behind the wall except foundation, but it didn’t look like this was a real basement wall. …

… It was at this point Alf returned, and we had some considerable explaining to do. Through it all the kids just bickered with each other. Looked like one that the bigger kid called Gerry was doing a bit of an ‘I told you so’ that was being overtaken by the other one berating him for unnecessary recklessness. When we asked Gerry how he knew what was behind that wall he told us that his mother knows all about this stuff. The other kid made a face at that. Neither elaborated as to what “this stuff” might have been.

We should have waited until morning and told the Reform Club staff what we’d found. We should have handed the trespassers over to the police, but Alf was always too curious for his own good, and he suggested we have a look inside. Rachel and I half-heartedly tried to argue against it, but I think deep down we wanted to know just as much as he did. So in we went. … We tried to tell the boys to stay outside, I said that we couldn't let a couple 17-18 year olds into such a dangerous place. The first kid argued that he was the only ‘experienced’ one there and that we wouldn’t know the place even existed if it weren’t for him. The other was just excited that we thought he was that old, so he was evidently much younger than I first thought.

I figured that short of tying them up, there was no way we were going to keep them out of there. Tying them up did feel like a step too far, and hard to do with two of them, so we settled for keeping a close eye on them as we went inside. Gerry insisted on going first, while the other, who introduced himself as Martin, said he would take up the rear. I kept an eye on the first kid, Alf on the one in the back, and Rachel just looked around…

… We came to a crossroads. Or, more precisely, a star. The chamber was small, round and featureless, but there were doorways leading out in a circle. I counted thirteen, not including the one we had come in from. Martin rushed forward to whisper with our guide, pointing at tunnels and whispering strange words, or names or something. Gerry would nod or whisper things back. In the center, there was a datestone. It read: “Robert Smirke, 1835. Balance and fear”.

…With the exception of Gerry, I got the impression that none of us were in any hurry to go down the other tunnel, not even Martin. A deep apprehension seemed to have settled itself in the pit of my stomach; everyone else also seemed to feel it. Then, without warning, Gerry started running full pelt into one of the passages. I’m not sure which one it was of the thirteen. I called for him to come back, but got no reply and Alf made to take off after him, but apparently Gerry did warn the other kid, because he blocked off the passage and refused to let him through.

Rachel ran back to get help, and I went to help Alf, he grabbed the kid while I went after the other boy. This tunnel wasn’t as dark as some of the others, but it was damper, and the walls seemed oddly slimy. After a few yards, the stone became so slick that I found it hard to keep my footing and I fell. I put my hand onto the floor to push myself up, and it came away faintly tinged with red. I saw lights from up ahead, and was about to call out when Gerry came running back out of the darkness.

He was clutching a book in his hands, and clearly wasn’t paying attention to where he was going. He barreled right into me, knocking me to the floor again. He was only a skinny kid, but he was so strong, and kept his footing, disappearing back into the darkness, towards the entrance. As he passed, I heard a small clattering sound, as though something were falling behind him. I reached out slowly, to try and raise myself off the ground, and felt something small and oddly smooth lying there. I shined my light on it, and saw a small bone. From a bird, I think, or maybe a rat. I looked around and there were a few more scattered about the corridor.

I’d fallen harder this time, and had managed to hurt my knee quite badly. I was just about able to limp to the end of the corridor, and there I found a small, round room. Against the walls were old bookshelves, decayed and empty, save for a few moldering pages. They were stained and rotten, and one of them looked like it had a mummified hand laying on it. Around the base of the bookshelf, I saw more of those tiny bones. Suddenly, Gerry’s friend was there, scolding me like a disappointed mum, and pulling me back like his life depended on it.

That’s where my memory begins to blur. I know they brought me back to the basement of the Reform Club, where Rachel was waiting with the police. But I remember some of the other passageways calling to me. I have the vaguest memories. I swear when we went through the first time the entrances looked mostly the same, this time, one seemed to be filled with paper, one was completely covered in cobwebs, one our torches couldn’t penetrate but I’m sure I saw a figure there, one had strangers that meant me harm, one burned when we passed it and I smelled smoke.

When I was out, I was questioned by the police. Alf wasn’t there, nor was Gerry. Martin told them that Alf went down the wrong passageway. I don’t know what that means, but when the two did emerge, he was shaking and looked feverish. Gerry convinced them that he needed to be quarantined. That ended up being true, he had some disease that I thought died out decades ago. The quarantine probably saved his life and ours. I still think that the kid partially just said that to cause chaos though, because the boys disappeared around when the ambulance arrived.

#the magnus archives #the magnus archives fanfiction #TMA #tma fanfic #tma fanfiction #gerard keay #gerry keay #Martin Blackwood #martin k blackwood #Parts taken directly from the transcripts

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