#we as a society moved to fast from this movie | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

adelheidvonschicksal · 6 months

Text

⋆｡°✩ Do Roommates Sleep Together?

“We’d be roommates, much better than neighbors,” you manage to explain, proud when you hold firm, but the delicate foundation you built cracks when his laugh highlights the room. You could nearly melt. “Do roommates sleep together too?”

Synopsis: Your relationship with Xavier is unconventional, skipping and trampling on the many proper steps society deems appropriate. It should take months to form the trust needed to sleep together, and it should take years for you to ask him to move in with you.

Yet, here you are, with more courage to ask him to live with you than to tell him you’re in love with him.

Content Warning: fluff, suggestive dialogue, pining, literal sleeping together, a lot of internal exposition, mild angst, hurt/comfort, acquaintances to friends to lovers, implied soulmate tomfoolery to justify the fast burn, small references to chapter 4 main story, Heartstring Symphony, Nighttime Stroll, Shooting Stars Myth, and Unit 602's Representative Phone Call, Xavier sucks at following the non-interference policy (he tried his best), female reader, 6.5k words, safe for work

A/N: First section before Warm Wishes/Dreams within Reach tender moments and second section after Close Feelings tender moment to give a better timeframe. This is going to be two parts with the second part NSFW.

“Do you want to hang out at my place?”

Your smile begins to flatten as Xavier stares at you from his doorway. There’s a listless energy radiating from him. It’s intimidating even if there’s no anger behind his hooded gaze, the kind of intimidation where you’re afraid he might not be listening to you or even wants to listen to you.

“This new scary movie came out. Tara was supposed to watch with me, but she had a last-minute thing to take care of,” you explain, watching as he yawns and wipes his eyes. “So, I thought that maybe you’d like to watch with me instead. Or, we can do something else. I got games. Monopoly, Phase 10, Kitty Cards.”

Xavier rubs at the back of his neck, refusing to meet your eye. “Are you sure you want it to be just the two of us?”

There are many things to be said about your relationship with Xavier. You’re work partners, neighbors in the same apartment complex, and you consider him your friend. It’s also true that your friendship is young despite the many hours at the arcade together and whatever stories your co-workers like to imagine, making your offer sound more like a date invitation than hanging out. It causes you to go tongue-tied as your innocent mistake blankets you.

“Oh, not in that way! I mean not that it would be a bad thing.” You start to lose your composure when you meet his gaze again. It’s not like you wouldn’t go on a date with him if given the opportunity. He’s tall, soft-spoken, and very handsome. It’s more surprising he doesn't have a girlfriend. “I was thinking it could be a good way to foster friendship between hunters. Yeah, that’s it!”

The truth was that you were looking for something to distract yourself ever since the incident at your grandmother’s house. Tara having to cancel bummed you out more than you wanted to admit, but you didn’t want him to agree because he felt sorry for you.

“I understand,” Xavier cuts in. “I’d be happy to join you…in an hour,” he finishes with another small yawn.

“Great!” you cheer. “See you soon.”

When you make it back to the elevator, you’re taken aback about how happy you are that he agreed. You thought you were simply happy not to have to be alone on your day off, but this was a different kind of satisfaction than when you invited Tara. It was a little strange but you ignored the thought and clicked the button to your floor.

When Xavier arrives, everything goes as planned. You spread out an array of snacks on the table in front of the sofa, which your selection seems to be approved by how quickly he opens the package of chips and hums to himself when he takes a bite.

“This is supposed to be super scary! I read you won’t sleep for days after,” you tell him, grabbing the remote to play the movie.

“For days? Sounds awful,” Xavier mentions between bites, making you chuckle.

“If you get scared, you always have me to protect you.”

“I’m more worried about you than me,” he mouths off. “You always look like a statue when I tell you scary stories.”

“Fake movies and stories based on real places are different!”

“I’ll keep that in mind,” he agrees on the surface. You’re not sure how you only make friends with people who love to tease you, but you make no mention of it as the movie finally reaches its opening sequence.

It doesn’t take long for you to realize this movie’s fear factor was greatly over exaggerated. There were monsters, sure, but also one too many jump scares and dark scenes that made it hard to tell what was happening. Fighting wanderers for a living did leave you a bit desensitized as well, you guess.

As you reach to fill in your boredom with more chips, you can’t help but notice how Xavier looks like he’s about to give out any second. His eyes are drooping and his head bobbing to the side. You lose count of how many times he forces his limp body straight and strains to watch the movie playing on the screen, one agonizingly slow blink at a time.

“I’m fine,” he says before you can bring up how tired he looks.

“It’s not a big deal, Xavier. This movie is pretty boring, so if you wanna call it a night, it wouldn’t hurt my feelings.” You don’t want him to leave yet but you don't want to keep him up either. Sighing, you’re frustrated the movie isn’t as exciting as you thought it would be, and it’s difficult to fight the disappointment from showing on your face.

And, well, Xavier…

“It’s alright. It’s honestly not bad, so—”

Xavier doesn’t even finish his sentence before his head hangs over. In hindsight, you start to realize that you must have woken him up earlier, explaining his prior passiveness.

You always wondered what he did on the days he wasn’t working. It should’ve been apparent to you that he spends most of his free time sleeping. No wonder his apartment was always so quiet during the day. You’re thankful he wasn’t actually annoyed at you earlier but guilty for interrupting his rest and decide to grab him a blanket.

You don’t notice him tilting to the side before you have the chance to get up. It’s quick after that. Without warning, he falls into you, his head brushing the side of your shoulder before he collapses on top of your lap.

The situation takes you by surprise, and the world churns to a slow stop. The sounds from the television fade into the background in favor of your heartbeat becoming the thing you’re most aware of when it registers that Xavier, a man you recently can call a friend, has fallen asleep in your lap. You have no idea what to do in a situation like this. It isn’t on purpose, so there’s no need to blow up, but you can’t allow this to continue.

So, you choose to wake him up.

“Xavier,” you call and rock his shoulder. You call his name again, a third time, and finally give up when he doesn’t budge by the fourth. “Would it be too mean to roll him off?” you wonder, grimacing as you imagine him hitting the floor. It would definitely be too mean.

Sighing, you gaze at his face nuzzled too comfortably against your thighs. Xavier looks so incredibly soft like this, bundled in an oversized Blanchi hoodie. It isn’t anything you’re not used to seeing him in. However, this is different. With his hair strewn across his temple and his face so at ease, it reminds you of a big fluffy bunny flopped over for an evening nap. Just like a cuddly bunny, you can’t resist petting him, brushing your fingers across his bangs to fix them. Your heart flutters as you confirm his hair is incredibly soft and his pale eyelashes longer than you ever noticed.

Not able to restrain yourself, you gently poke his cheek, marveling when it’s much chubbier than you imagined. It causes him to moan, his eyes twitching from the intrusion.

“Mm…what?” he groans out.

Swiftly, you pull your hand away, frightened he might have caught you.

“I wasn’t doing anything,” you stammer out, not the best of excuses; but in your defense, he caught you off-guard by waking up from something so small. When he doesn’t respond again, you quickly realize he’s still asleep. “Oh, he sleep talks!”

A mischievous wave washes over you from the new piece of information you acquired. Teasingly, you poke his cheek again, giggling when he shifts to hide his eyes from the light.

“Xavier, I have a question to ask you.” You slide your fingertips along his bangs once more. “Be honest. Are you Lumiere?”

Patiently, you wait for a response. However, nothing comes after several seconds. Just when you’re about to give up hope, you hear him muttering. You lean your head closer, hoping to hear him better.

“Red…” he mumbles.

You repeat after him. “Red?”

“Red…extra spicy.”

You blink at him, knitting your brows. “Extra spicy?”

Oh. The hot pot restaurant.

“Dreaming about food? That tracks.” You shrug. It was worth a shot. “Fine, keep your secrets.”

Choosing to leave him be, you’re about to sit back and continue the movie except you are interrupted by him mumbling again. This time, he whispers your name quietly under his breath causing your undivided attention to fall on him.

“Yes?” you ask.

Xavier sighs softly, peacefully.

“Come home…with me…”

There must be a world record for how fast someone can heat up, and you must have broken it. It’s like someone threw you directly into boiling oil and left you to burn in it. There’s no way you heard him correctly.

Did Xavier really ask you to come home…with him? Is he dreaming about you? If so, in what kind of dream? And why?

These are the questions stumping you. Sure, you consider him your friend, but when did he start to see you as someone close to him?

The more important question is why aren’t you doing anything about it? You aren’t angry about him whispering your name in his sleep nor offended, and it didn’t feel out of place to be close to him, like this, with his head resting in your lap and your hand in his hair. The moment becomes nicer and nicer—treasured—the more times you run it through your head, familiar even, like déjà vu.

There are too many variables for your brain to piece it all together in such a short amount of time. Praying for the tempest battering your emotional insides to reside, you resign yourself to your fate, allowing him to have his peace while your mind completely focuses on the words slipping from his dreams.

When Xavier begins to stir hours later, your movie is long finished, credits rolling as some dramatic music plays in the background. His eyes tighten then relax before he finally opens them, greeting you with hazy blue. He lifts himself into a stretch then rubs his eyes with his wrist. When he finally adjusts to his surroundings, he looks at you with an apologetic sulk.

“Did I…fall asleep on you?” he asks, grogginess still riding his voice.

“Literally or figuratively?” you ask as a joke, but it doesn’t seem to comfort him. Shaking your head, you try to ease the tension—the one known by him and the tension inside of yourself—by laughing. “It was both.”

Xavier blinks a few times, turns his head to the screen to see the credits rolling, and snaps his eyes back on you questioningly. “And you let me for two hours?”

“You looked really tired,” you explain, ignoring how hot your cheeks start to get. You couldn’t tell him you got distracted by his cute face. “I didn’t want to move and wake you.”

“I don’t wake that easily,” he states, proudly even. You almost tell him how well everyone knows he can sleep through a typhoon, but it’s drowned underneath the softness of his smile. “But I appreciate the sentiment.”

The look he gives you is so tender, like looking at a fond memory. It brings back the fluttering knots in your stomach from before as you imagine what could be the true reason behind that gaze. What could he possibly be thinking in his waking moments that would make him dream about you?

“Xavier, do you know you talk in your sleep?” The confused and panicked, deer caught in headlights expression, he gives causes you to fidget with your fingers and drop your gaze to your lap where they lay.

His face tinges slightly. “Nothing too embarrassing I hope.”

You bite your bottom lip as his face reddens. He looks so sweetly shy for once, and you’re starting to question if you’re overreacting by confronting him about something as silly as a dream, one that probably didn’t mean much.

“You tried to order food in your sleep!” you tell him with a small laugh, and his shyness melts away.

“I did? What did I get?”

“Red sauce. Extra Spicy.”

“Then, I guess that’s what I’ll get for dinner tonight,” he remarks. He doesn’t laugh but you can see the amusement reflected in blue eyes, which makes you return his happiness. Yet, the calm moment is short-lived as your mind becomes overwhelmed again by questions you were too nervous to ask; and a small piece of you, too afraid to know the answer.

“What’s wrong?” he asks, drawing you out of your rampant, clashing thoughts. “You look sick.”

“I do?”

He nods, his expression softening.

”Are you still thinking about everything?" he pauses, his worry becoming more visible as he looks at you. "It must be difficult.” Your head blanks at his words. You weren’t aware Xavier gave you enough attention to notice your mood was different. You thought you did okay coming to terms with everything at least while at work to where he wouldn’t notice.

“It’s been a pretty rough week, weeks, actually. I haven’t been sleeping well either,” you agree, struggling to keep your mind anywhere else but there. You’re sure you must look exhausted though. Your under eyes have been darker, the days you could convince Jenna you didn’t need any more leave a bit sluggish, and even Zayne warned you not to lose yourself in grief. It’s easier said than done.

What you don’t expect is for Xavier to grab your wrist and pull you closer.

Xavier normally isn’t the one to draw you, or others for that matter, to him. You’re the one who's been taking the steps to get to know more about him. Offering to help him get his plushie, bargaining with him into becoming your partner, asking him to watch movies with you, while he always seems to keep you a little at arms length, not opening up as much as you wish when sharing stories even when sometimes he looks like he desperately wants to before deciding against it.

Your eyes widen when your nose hits the side of his chest. It's strange to have him be the one pulling, failing to keep his boundaries and also testing them. You don’t want to push him away though. You liked this. Maybe because he was handsome. You hear pretty people can get away with anything, but it feels like more than that. Tara might have been right. Maybe you do have a crush on him but you didn’t care the reason right now when it’s so comforting. You can feel his muscles underneath the thick, warm fabric of his hoodie, and the clothing smells so nice. You can’t help thinking he definitely feels like a bunny too.

“Sleeping is much better with someone.”

“How do you know?” you mumble against him.

“Well, I just had the best sleep I’ve had in days thanks to you. So, allow me to return the favor. I’ll be your pillow this time,” he offers; and surprisingly, your eyes do feel oddly heavy when his soothing voice reaches you. “Relax. I promise not to move for at least two hours, but you can take more if you like.”

”How kind,” you say with a smile, and it feels genuine.

Once again, you get the same familiar sensation from before, that same odd suspicion this has happened once before—or rather it’s supposed to happen? You’re too tired to think about it. You close your eyes to the most blissful dreams you’ve had in weeks.

When you wake up again, it’s not by choice. Xavier is looking down at you, his arm gently wrapped around your shoulders as your head lays on his chest. Your mind is still trapped halfway between being awake and asleep when he begins to talk.

“Welcome back. Did you sleep well?”

You nod. “Real well actually."

Xavier says something else but your tired mind misses the majority of it aside from the fact it’s getting late.

“You can spend the night if you want,” you tell him, allowing sleep to win back over as you try to close your eyes again, but he lifts you away from him, your head swaying with the motion until you find a place to prop your forehead on his shoulder. Your mind echoes with the thought of how soft his hoodie is and how you need one like it as you try to drift back off. Xavier is right. Sleeping with someone else is better, and this closeness you’ve been missing since you lost your family makes you needy.

“It probably wouldn’t be appropriate.”

For some reason, it hurts to think he's back to pushing you away. Even though, it shouldn't.

“But you didn’t get a chance to watch the movie,” you reply, looking for an excuse for him not to leave. “It’s a 48-hour rental, so we can try again.”

Xavier shakes his head, gently poking at your forehead to force your head back. “I’m sure it’ll be twice as boring for you the second time.”

“If we watch it together…”

He meets your foggy gaze apologetically. “I don’t think we’d get very far.”

“We won’t know until we try,” you argue drowsily.

“You don’t look like you’d make it another ten minutes. You belong in bed.”

“I can,” you whimper as the too-bright lights of the overhead fan hit you.

“Doing the same thing over and over again expecting a different result,” he murmurs softly, almost teasingly until his tone takes on a seriousness you’re too lethargic to grasp, “Isn’t that insanity?”

“I like to call it determination. Who knows? Maybe this will be the time it works,” you joke. Instead of the smile you expected the look on his face is pensive and a little sad, like you touched a delicate spot. The sudden remorse wakes you up almost immediately. “Xavier?”

When he realizes you’re watching him, the longing in his gaze melts into something you can’t describe, other than the fact it makes your heart climb in your throat.

“Alright,” he agrees, much to your surprise and relief. “Let’s try again…but tomorrow.”

Frowning, you avert your gaze, which makes him pet your head.

“Don’t pout. Tonight, I’ll stay until you fall asleep again.”

“Thank you,” you whisper, moving back to rest your head against his chest.

Maybe your grandma wouldn’t have liked you getting so close to a man you didn’t know much about so quickly. Caleb would at least have a few questions, but your intuition tells you that you’re making the right choice when his arm goes back around you. As you start to drift off, you can swear you hear Xavier laughing at you under his breath. “You’re as impossible to say no to as always.”

You’re not entirely sure what time Xavier went back to his apartment that night, but the next morning you wake in your bed, looking forward to seeing him again. You only hope the sweet and confusing fact that you’re in love with him, of the parts he shows you when you’re alone, stays in your dreams the next night and the many nights following that you share with him.

Over the months, as your relationship with Xavier grows stronger, you find it common to share many things with each other. You play online games, house sit for one another, grow strawberries, and usually go home together after your deepspace trials. Most interestingly, you two take naps together on your days off sometimes, nothing sexual about it despite what Tara and her Tarot cards believe. Sure, there might have been questionable situations, but it was all innocent in the end. It's often a short nap in the afternoon after running errands or having lunch together. It's one of those days that you finally build the courage to bring up what's been on your mind for a while now.

It's late when it happens.

The skyscraper lights begin to glow through your balcony door, blinking out the gentle shimmering of distant stars that managed to cut through the trickling rain earlier in the evening. It’s a little disappointing to lose sight of the stars. They’d become a comfort for you in the time you’ve spent with your friend. You'd never given them much thought before then.

The downpour of rain splattering against the glass panels of the balcony makes the city lights milkier to your sight and the steady dripping of water returns some form of calmness when paired with your neighbor’s breathing next to you.

It’s deep and warm, ushering you towards the world of dreams. Everything about Xavier is like a white noise or a desperately needed hug, which is why you’re curled up at his side in this bed that’s too small for the both of you. You didn’t care, and you suspected Xavier didn’t either.

He didn’t mention the smallness of the bed when you offered to take a nap together nor when your head found the bulge of his bicep to use as your pillow. You didn’t give him time to respond when one of your hands slid across his lean chest, reaching for his always subtle pulse. You find the lazy pattering easy to count while the heat in the sheets become much more apparent when you feel the weight of his touch cradle that very same hand to his chest as if promising every beat to you.

Everything about the situation causes your eyes to flutter with tiredness, but you want to savor this moment a little longer. In case this is all an elaborate dream. You hope to death it’s not. So, you force your eyes to remain open, releasing a soft sigh instead as you cuddle into his arm.

Too soon, you feel Xavier slipping further away from you.

You don’t want him to go yet. More than ever, a force inside you needs him to stay tonight, and you lock your grip on the white knit shirt he wears. You tug him back over to you to close this unbearable distance he made. The few little inches he moved were more than enough to cause your heart to yearn.

“Not yet,” you want to plead but make it a soft demand. “I just found the perfect spot.” You muffle the neediness of your requests into his skin, though your head is afraid that somehow he’ll feel it.

“You always use that excuse.”

“And it’s always true. So, no moving,” you order.

Xavier gives in so wonderfully quickly. Your heart is rapidly firing when the corners of his lips turn into his usual waif-like smile. You fail at hiding your satisfaction at his surrender, pressing more of your weight against him, in a sure sign to him that you have no intention of letting him escape any time soon.

“I take this to mean you’re finally admitting it’s your fault we didn’t do our errands today?”

“I never said that,” you disagree half-heartedly. “And don't pretend like you weren't the one who kept saying he didn't feel like getting up earlier.”

“And now that I do, you won’t let me up. Am I right? Why’s that?”

There’s a beat skipping in your chest when he asks. His tone is light and open, easy to treat as a teasing joke but also firm enough to be taken seriously. That was always your trouble with him. You could never quite tell what he was thinking and when he was serious. Xavier is hard to understand sometimes, sometimes vague and sometimes very straightforward in his words; and lately, you think he’s consistently more hot than cold towards you ever since the first time you've slept together.

You like to think this development is a good thing. People who knew you always said you worked a little too hard, a little too observant, overly energetic despite your fragile heart; but with Xavier, you could relax. Moments like these: when his arm was around you and when his breath was at the side of your neck, the soft words he speaks in his sleep dancing in your mind, were the moments when patrolling for wanderers and every loss in your life from your family to your problematic heart dissipated into the back of your mind for a few hours.

It isn’t an exaggeration to believe his influence must have been the cause, at least when it comes to this. But your influence is seeping into him as well. Given his loner habits when you first met and his frequent disappearing acts, you never pictured him as one to be so sweet and considerate and adorably charming in a way.

However, you can’t tell him that you enjoy…sleeping with him. You have a strong feeling he already knows how much you like him. Or, you’d like to think he does with the way he constantly seems to hint at it. He can make you flustered with a few words and easily leave you guessing if you’re reading too much into his actions or if he’s really that good at baiting you. It could also be a little of column A and a little of column B, which somehow makes you more antsy around him. Like how you feel now when his eyes meet yours.

“It’s supposed to be cold tonight,” you whisper. It’s a poor excuse but the only one you can use to defend yourself. “They say the best way to fend off the chill is body heat. Who better for that task than you, dear partner?”

“Many things, I assume, a portable heater comes to mind,” he says, and you don’t need to look at him to know he’s slyly teasing you behind that naive tone.

“Right, right, those things,” you grumble causing him to laugh as you hide your bashful face against him. “So loud, you know?”

“Are they? Alright, then five more minutes should be doable,” he says in the same low voice that makes your insides boil before his arm lowers to curl around your back. “Although, you’re too comfortable.”

His ears tinge in a lovely rose-colored blush, and you shudder when he finally fails to maintain eye contact and quickly scans your body. It’s slow enough for you to catch though. It makes your chest tight as you watch his quiet inhale and the murky flash of want dye his eyes shades darker before they fade back into clear pools of blue, big and pleading as he studies your face.

“I might end up falling asleep here.”

It’s a warning, to make you think about the meaning of your actions, you think. However, this isn’t the first time this has happened nor the first time you spent a rainy day inside with each other; the kitchen counter lined with empty take-out trays, with his body heat radiating into you while a long-forgotten movie plays in the background.

It’ll continue like that until one of you is finally coherent enough after drowsy naps to try to piece together who fell asleep on whom first or who is making the other too hot. Neither of you wants to accept the fault without a lot of bickering; that’s if Xavier doesn’t fall back asleep mid-debate.

Even this time, you’re not sure who managed to drift off to sleep first earlier but neither of you tried to get up, let alone leave the house, until now. Ah, but it was your idea to use the bed this time, wasn’t it?

But it was his choice to agree.

Even now, he looks very peaceful nestled with you, and he still whispers your name in his sleep sometimes, which reminds you of the first time you slept together and he dreamt about wanting you to come home with him.

When you’re like this, you want the same thing. You want him to come home…with you.

“Xavier?” you ask quietly. You wonder if he’s fallen asleep already like he said. Carefully, you free your hand from his hold, slide it up his chest, and begin to draw smooth circles with your pointer finger once you reach his cheek. There’s a soft response from him, barely a moan but it’s enough to know he’s not out of it yet, at least not completely. “I’ve been thinking.”

The air is suddenly stifling when he engulfs the top of your hand with his own, holding it tighter as if he’s upset that you moved it out of his grasp in the first place, but it’s not the case as he affectionately seals your palm against his cheek.

“About what?”

The look he gives you makes it hard not to stumble over your thoughts like a schoolgirl despite being very much an adult.

“Wouldn’t…” You pause to steady your voice; you have to force yourself to not avoid his gaze, but each small movement makes your throat tighten. There’s no doubt you have his full attention now, at least what little remains of it. “Wouldn’t it be easier if we…move in together?”

You’re not sure where the courage to ask him a question like that comes from when you’re too unsure to even confess or to ask what the two of you even are but you didn’t have this fear of rejection until now.

“How would it be easier?”

“Well,” you start, unsure why you’re surprised that he’d want a reason. “We’re always visiting one another, and you made me your representative at the tenant meetings, so everyone already treats us like we’re a combined unit. It would also save me trips on watering your plants when you’re away or when you want to come over to eat. We could save money. Money that could be spent at the arcade or on more hot pot.”

There’s a quiet atmosphere that makes you too uneasy. The thrumming of rain grows louder in it along with the beating in your chest that’s telling you that this was stupid. Is it possible to be drunk on endorphins? Perhaps that’s what gave you the idea to ask something so foolish; you’d have to get Zayne to examine your empty head and tell you.

But then, Xavier smiles.

“Those are good reasons especially more hot pot, and I’m sure all the plushies would feel better if they shared a home again.”

Your anxiety lessens and you share in his smile. Luckily, you managed not to ruin everything it looks like.

“But.” Slowly, the inklings of self-doubt begin to return. A but. There’s always one of those. You should’ve expected as much. “If we move in together then we wouldn’t really be “neighbors” anymore.”

“Oh, um—” You become staggered by his observation, even more so when he interlocks your fingers. It’s another time when you’re not entirely sure if he’s being serious or not. His innocent puppy-eyed expression doesn’t help you differentiate either. It always makes your mind wander to more inappropriate topics—like the fact Xavier told you he didn’t believe that other neighbors acted like you two. The memory nearly makes you squirm. In this position, you decide to give him the benefit of the doubt. “We’d be roommates, much better than neighbors,” you manage to explain, proud when you hold firm, but that delicate foundation cracks when his laugh highlights the room. You could nearly melt.

“Do roommates sleep together too?”

There’s a shine of amusement that makes his face glow and heat claw higher up your neck. You know the question should be taken literally but when he words it like that…with that warm implicative inflection to his voice, you’re unable to think properly, and you realize that maybe you made a mistake. Maybe you shouldn’t have given him the benefit of the doubt this time.

“I’m sure some do,” you answer with some courage, “I’d imagine at least once a week.”

“I believe we’re up to twice a week now. So, if we become roommates, I think we have to do it at least that many times, otherwise I’m afraid I’m going to have to reject your offer.”

“Two times?” you repeat, silently begging the flapping of butterflies in your stomach to calm down at the suggestion, at the implication that he enjoys sleeping with you just as much as you do with him. It makes this strong emotion in your chest blossom even further. “I can manage that.”

“Additional proposal,” he interrupts suddenly. “Perhaps, three times? I can even throw in a pair of those fuzzy socks that I can never manage to find after you visit,” he adds coyly.

“Oh, I’m sure they’re around your apartment somewhere,” you quickly respond before releasing the buildup of nervous air in your lungs. You smile. “Proposal accepted. Shared naps three times a week minimum.”

“In that case,” he breathes in softly, and he slips his hand down releasing all your fingers except for your pinky that he wraps into his own. “I think I would like to be your roommate.”

Inside, there’s unadulterated joy beginning to flood you. You know that this agreement will require a more in-depth discussion that Xavier will probably try to gloss over but this is enough for you right now.

“We should take tonight to practice for our move.”

Confused, you raise your eyebrows. “Practice?”

He nods.

“Sleeping together overnight. We did a few times before, well, only twice in the same bed, once in yours and once in mine,” he explains. You definitely have the clearest memory of that time, of bandaging his wounds, of cluelessly pinning him down shirtless on his bed before he turned the tables on you, and then—you remind yourself to resist going over the details, not with him this close to you. Somehow, Xavier is the one who looks the most insecure between the two of you. Finally, he whispers, “I haven’t forgotten even if it was a long time ago.”

His eyes are half-lidded, cloudy with thought. Something about him looks restrained and longing but it disappears when you finally swallow your swelling emotions and call out his name. There’s a twinkle of adoration that blows away whatever doubt there as he focuses on you again.

“I think about it when I have a hard time sleeping on overnight missions.” Xavier turns and slides his arm from under your head, choosing to lay on his side to face you. “It makes it a lot easier to rest in the hunting zones when you have good memories like that. So, it's nice to have a chance to make more."

“I don’t think I could fall asleep at all if I thought of something like that,” you admit, as close to an admission of your love for him as you could muster without mountains of alcohol. “I’d just think about how much I’d rather be home with them.”

“And now? Are you having trouble sleeping?” he asks huskily, and you have to fight not to keep staring at his lips and the dire need to kiss them as you breathe each other in. You reach out, touching his bare collar then instinctively searching for his slow pulse, counting it to calm yourself from the rush of adrenaline building in you.

You’re not even sure when you breathed out the “yes” that echoes softly from your mouth. His lips are so close to yours that you’re sure he could catch it in his breath if he wanted.

“How about I tell you a story to help you fall asleep?” He sees your hesitation and laughs under his breath. “I promise it’ll be much better than the last one.”

Accepting his offer, you agree to listen to him.

Xavier nods and gently swoops the back of his hand against your forehead and then your cheek before cupping it. There’s a gentle squeeze, and you think you understand why he likes it so much when you do it.

“Once, there was a beautiful queen and a knight,” he begins. “They lived together in a palace far away.”

“And they fall in love and live happily ever after?” you question, too busy in the full and fuzzy sensations filling your being to hold back.

“No, they were separated from each other for a long time,” Xavier corrects but his expression softens at the trickling concern building on your face. “Don’t worry. They meet again and become neighbors.”

“And then?”

“They become roommates,” he states matter-of-factly, which causes you to chuckle at him. You can’t even be bothered to care that he’s poking fun at you.

“Then, happily ever after?”

“I don’t know yet,” he answers, causing you to frown and your face to wrinkle with a sullen expression. His head tilts further into the plush of the pillow. “But you can help me figure out the ending.”

Feeling exhausted from the cathartic flow of emotions from him to you, you wiggle into him and throw your arm across his waist. “There’d probably be a lot of naps and stargazing involved,” you mumble before a tiny yawn.

“Sounds like a happy ending to me. It's good to finally see it,” he agrees, and you sigh when you feel a strong squeeze around your waist. “Although, you forgot to mention the part where the queen promises to not get out of bed without waking him this time.”

You giggle. “She promises not to get up without her knight.”

Content, he hums. "Do you think you'll be able to sleep now?"

"I think so after a story like that," you confess, reaching out to brush his hair back so you can see his eyes more clearly. "Then again, I always sleep good with you."

"You’ll sleep best when we're close, right?"

You gasp when he shifts on top of you. His lips briefly brush your forehead, by accident or not, you can’t tell as he pins you between himself and the bed. With a stutter, you call out his name yet he pays no heed as he nuzzles his head into your hair.

“Good night, roommate.”

“Xav-!” You pout when he instantly slumps against you. There’s no point trying to wake him up now that his five minutes of alertness have long expired.

Settling your chin against the top of his shoulder, you hook your arms under his to hug him against your chest. Your forearms settle at his mid-back as you hold him close so you can gently brush the ends of his hair.

When you ultimately decide to give in minutes after him, it’s to the warmth of his weight on top of you, the tickle of his hair against your forehead, and the increased pulsing of his heart. Xavier was right, this is too comfortable. Letting your eyes fall close, you wonder if three times a week would really be enough to satisfy this strangely familiar craving. You only wish that the two of you could meet in your dreams like he says, but it's enough knowing you'll have each other in the morning and then on.

“…Good night, Xavier. Sweet dreams,” you whisper before you too give into sleep’s spell.

#xavier x reader #love and deepspace x reader #lads x reader #xavier fluff #xavier

521 notes · View notes

lauren-ce · 18 days

Text

"A Nightmare at Green Lake" is a Queer Coming-Out Story

[This essay has a PDF version; the images are crisper there]

I'm probably nine months late to this particular party, but I just finished the excellent Reverse: 1999 event "A Nightmare at Green Lake" and wanted to make a case for reading it as a story about coming out, focusing on Blonney and her repressed sexuality. It's a love letter to horror films, and a love letter to girls that love girls. Crucially, it is more the latter than the former; Green Lake is a coming-out story that uses the horror film trappings as a storytelling device, not a hard and fast rule. Spoilers for the entire event.

(All my screenshots are taken from this video, which does a wonderful job capturing the entire event.)

The inciting incident in Green Lake began years before. Jennifer visits the camp regularly as a child, writing horror stories in her diary and reading them to Jessica, who loves them. Then, Jennifer suddenly has to move away, and thus, the Incident takes place.

Blonney/Jennifer threw her diary into the lake when she was forced to leave, drowning three things:

1). Her horror stories and love of horror

2). Her acceptance of her identity as an Arcanist

3). Her gay-ass self

She joins human society despite being Different and tries to blend in. She changes her name to Blonney, feigns an interest in fashion, and conforms to social norms. "Monstrous and forbidden" becomes a theme in this event which describes horror, but it also describes queer identity (this will be important later). Blonney discards her identity, drowning it in the lake.

Now allow me the rest of this rambling essay to make a point for that third thing (and to make the case that "loving horror" and "being an Arcanist" is the same thing as "being gay"). Throughout the first half of the event, we see Blonney consistently reject her love of horror movies. She calls them cliche and stupid, easy to make and low-class. Despite secretly loving them, she's built up a persona that isn't allowed to like horror.

Yet she takes an awful lot of offense to criticism of her script. . .

Anne, a recent hire to replace a sick member of Blonney's film crew (who is secretly Jessica in disguise), is mistreated by Blonney for being a naive, small-town country bumpkin that doesn't know anything. Within the movie that Blonney is shooting, Anne is typecast as the "Virgin": Christian, unassuming, sheltered, in contrast to Blonney's "Blondie": indulgent, vain, etc.

Oops, are the characters in the fake movie they're shooting maybe perhaps based on their real-world counterparts???

A contrast is drawn between the two by Blonney and the narrative at first. Throughout the rest of the event, the distance between them and their character archetypes will crumble. The important thing to remember is that Anne/Jessica is a representation of everything Blonney has rejected about herself.

As actual horror-movie type events begin to happen to the group, the characters are genre-savvy enough to realize they're in a horror story. The culprit, though this isn't revealed until later, is Anne/Jessica. She's an Arcanist and has been using her shapeshifting abilities to make a horror movie happen to the group. Ironically, the group looks to Anne as the "Last Girl", the pure and unsullied one that will survive the night.

In actuality, this is a false flag. Since Anne is Jessica is the Monster, she can't be the Last Girl.

The Last Girl is actually Blonney:

I spoiled it already, but the viewer doesn't learn until the halfway point that Blonney is actually from the area, having grown up and making frequent visits. This is why she sees herself in Anne, a gay girl from a small town. Game recognize game, gay recognize gay. Blonney uses a fake name for a fake identity. Jessica sees her actual self, and calls her Jennifer. This isn't a deadnaming, Anne/Jessica sees Blonney as she truly is deep down. Though Blonney doesn't realize it, Anne cuts her to her core, which directly leads to her mistreatment.

Anne's peculiar interactions with Blonney are some of the first hints we get of the true narrative: Why is Anne so nice to her, despite the way she's treated? And more importantly, how would Anne, a newcomer to Blonney's film crew, know Blonney's real name/true identity? Blonney certainly never would've told her, she rejects her own identity, after all. This is a big nod to the true workings of the plot. Anne knows more than what she lets on. Why does Blonney not realize that Anne knows more than she should? Because Blonney is actively trying to reject that part of her—she's blind to it. If she were to acknowledge that Anne knows her true self, then the story would already be over.

On top of rejecting her love of horror, Blonney also rejects her identity as an Arcanist. This identity alienates her from her friends—they consider her a peer up until the horror story begins happening to them. The very second it is no longer convenient, they reject her as one of them and other her. The only member of her original film crew that doesn't reject her for being an Arcanist is, you guessed it, Anne.

However much you despise us, many brilliant playwrights are Queer. I mean—"Arcanists".

Horror events continue happening: a butcher chases around members of the group and monsters attack others. Vertin (R1999's main character), along with Horrorpedia, Sonetto, and Tooth Fairy, provide support, killing monsters and moving the plot along. In many of the monsters the groups find notes, pieces of paper that begin to tell a story—stories within the story. Using their knowledge of horror tropes, the main characters stay alive while Blonney's human film crew seemingly perishes at the hands of the various monster assailants.

After one such attack, Tooth Fairy (an Arcanist), gives first aid to Blonney. During the scene the two have a small argument. Tooth Fairy refuses to use Arcanist medicine to treat Blonney, because Blonney sees herself as a human. This gives Blonney a chance at some introspection, her first time opening up during this event.

Even Blonney's blood knows the truth she's suppressed.

All this happens while Tooth Fairy treats her wounds. Interesting that they're on her inner thigh, hmmm? A MILFy doctor rendering first aid to a girl's inner thighs while explaining that she's rejecting her own identity? I'm sure there's nothing to read into here.

As the plot progresses, Anne repeatedly risks her life to save Blonney. She leaps from a car to save her from a monster, and she later kills the butcher that's been chasing them. This earns her Blonney's trust, which leads to the big, plot-turning confession. At the halfway mark, Blonney is able to sit down with Anne/Jessica and confides in her.

A gay awakening ensues: Blonney feels down about her loss of identity, wanting to reclaim her love of horror. Her facade, she explains, is just that. Blonney threw away her identity as a horror-loving Arcanist in an effort to integrate with society. This conversation takes place after a danger has just been defeated, yet is one of the emotional climaxes. Blonney begins to want to accept her true identity. Throughout, Jessica repeatedly praises Blonney, telling her how amazing and wonderful she is, all the while the two cuddle on a couch.

*Does a gay little hair flip after holding hands. "You can be rougher with me, you know."

To her horror, the rest of the group hears. They had this discussion in the same room, after all, but in contrast to Blonney's old friend group, her new friends support her wholeheartedly. Then, Tooth Fairy hands Blonney the symbol of her self-actualization: her diary, which she'd found in the attic (yes, the same diary that had been thrown into the lake!!! Blonney has now retrieved her diary, her love of horror, and her identity as an Arcanist, all the things she threw away as a child.

Blonney retrieves her diary, which represents suppressed homosexuality through multiple metaphors, and achieves self-actualization thanks to her supportive friend group and a girl with a massive crush on her. The Monstrous and Forbidden are now part of her. Now the gay things really step up.

What happens next is a direct result of Blonney coming to terms with her queerness: a woman in a wedding dress shows up and attempts to marry her.

Monstrous and Forbidden, all in one package.

The woman is a zombie (because we're working with horror tropes, yeah?) but the message couldn't be more clear. Blonney has opened up to Anne/Jessica about loving horror (being queer). Now Blonney must face what that means. Consider: the corpse bride searches for her beloved (literally another bride, this could not be more fucking clear). Who is to play bride to the corpse bride? It's Blonney! The corpse bride forces Blonney down and puts a wedding ring onto her finger. The narrative has allowed Blonney to come out—now it will test her resolve.

The corpse bride is a mixed bag of metaphors. Textually, the corpse bride is a character from the horror story written in Blonney's diary. She was killed by her husband and searches for him so she can place the wedding ring back on his finger. Metatextually, the bride represents Jessica: Blonney abandoned her, effectively "killing" her. Now the scorned bride searches for her lost love.

To sum up: Jessica=Corpse Bride:

1). She searches for her lost love every night (Jessica misses Blonney)

2). She wears a hempen collar (brides don't wear collars, but Jessica does)

Blonney rises to the challenge, she defeats the corpse bride with her newfound arcanist powers, and the group pieces together the clues that the bodies carry. Her new friends are proud of her!

Horrorpedia (annoying fuckwad that he is) nicely sums up the message: by embracing their identities, they can fight back.

All the horror story clues lead to the dead body in the water. "But wait," you say, "Green Lake doesn't feature a dead body in the water." Wrong! Blonney was dead all along, remember? The corpse is Blonney's diary! Her dead body is the horror-loving gay self she killed when she threw her diary into the lake to reject her identity!

More plot happens; the story reaches a climax with Blonney using her magic to aid the group's escape from a lighthouse. On the same shore that Blonney first told Jessica all her horror stories, the same shore she killed her identity on, they confront Jessica, now revealed as the Monster. This whole plotline is the result of Blonney rejecting her identity; now is the time to make everything right.

Jessica is proud of Blonney becoming her true self. However, she's also tired of waiting for her. She's tired of being alone. Jessica offers Blonney a life of bliss: a soft bed of moss for them to share, the sweetest forest fruits, and monsters to keep her company.

When Blonney refuses to live at Green Lake forever with her, it's taken as a rejection. A fight ensues—Blonney and her group win, but the emotional arc of the story has yet to resolve.

Blonney has a chance to reject her queer identity once more. She both does and doesn't. Blonney accepts the monstrous and forbidden by accepting Jessica, a literal monster, and her queerness, the Forbidden. She rejects the monstrous and forbidden by asking Jessica to come with her, to rejoin society, to hide their identities as Arcanists (queer) and live together. Jessica rejects this. She will not be closeted. (The fear she feels at being outed as an arcanist is very similar to the fear of being outed as queer in a hostile society, eh?) This of course puts Blonney under duress—how can the story end happily?

Vertin comes in with a grenade of an offer: Jessica can come stay in the St. Pavlov Institute with her and learn to coexist with people like her. She can live with people that don't see her as weird, despite being monstrous (queer), an Arcanist (queer), and a lover of horror (queer). Vertin hasn't done much up to this point outside of moving the plot along and fighting monsters; this is her time to shine, and she shines like the lesbian lodestar we know her to be. Her conversation with Jessica is tinged with language that could easily be read as romantic, but Vertin isn't here to steal anyone's girl, she's here to offer a happy ending for everyone that guarantees the goal of each party is fulfilled. Vertin's presence is what allows this story to ultimately break free from its horror trappings. Her third option is not a compromise; it is the ending we wanted.

And what an ending it is! It's happy and good in every possible way it could be. The happiness of the ending is a large part of why I call this a coming-out story primarily rather than a horror tale. A slasher film like the ones this event draws inspiration from would see Blonney (the true Final Girl) as the only survivor of her group, still running from the monster and her own self. Instead, all her friends survive, having been held captive in Jessica's den. Blonney comes into her own; she and Jessica reconcile—we get the gay end!

Blonney leaves to finish college as a self-actualized queer woman; Jessica acheives her wish of never being alone and joins the institute to gain an education herself. I have no doubt that they will reunite, and soon: the entire plot of R1999 is Vertin recruiting every arcanist she can to ensure their safety from the Storm. Blonney's future leads directly to St. Pavlov. (For further supporting evidence, see her voice line about taking Jessica for a walk! Even before Blonney graduates, they get to be togetherrrrrrrrrrr!)

Even if you don't play R1999, please please check out this event. It has a lot to say, and it's one of my favorite things I've read all year. The soundtrack fucking whips, and it goes far in helping balm the weeping wound of the tragic yuri that is Vertin/Schneider.

Again, give some love to the video that made this document possible.

I've rambled long enough, so I'll let Tooth Fairy wrap this up with a bow: Love Wins

#reverse 1999 #jessica reverse 1999 #blonney #blossica #r1999 #reverse: 1999 #a nightmare at green lake #tooth fairy

94 notes · View notes

letsgoravendors · 5 months

Text

I feel like we as a society moved passed chloe beale CANONICALLY saying "we're the tits" too fast

as we've learned from janis from mean girls, tits = great

using "tits" in a sentence to mean "great" = gayyyyy SO GAYY

+ saying tits to a hot goth chick you just meet while looking deeply into her soul = HELLA GAY SHES A LESBIAN

but fr the way she looks at beca during this scene, the eye contact in this movie is the gayest thing ive ever seen

#chloe beale #beca mitchell #pitch perfect #bechloe #beca x chloe #gay #lesbians #universal really tried to convince us chloe wasn't a lesbian #HA

118 notes · View notes

astro-vogue · 4 months

Text

PLANETS: part I - The Personal/Inner Planets [Sun-Mars]

● In astrology, there are 10 celestial bodies commonly considered "planets": Sun, Moon, Mercury, Venus, Mars, Saturn, Jupiter, Uranus, Neptune & Pluto

● Planets act like the roles a character [see the 12 zodiac signs] interpret in a movie, and each of them represents specific characteristics, that will eventually adapt to the zodiac sign they occupy

⎯ The Sun & Moon are called "LUMINARIES", as they're the brightest ones, they define the fundamental traits of a chart/personality and all the chart moves around them.

● Planets are divided in 3 categories: PERSONAL, SOCIAL & GENERATIONAL

⎯ Sun, Moon, Mercury, Venus, & Mars are called PERSONAL/INNER PLANETS and they are the most important in a chart as they are the fastest moving ones in the sky and can change more rapidly than Generational/Outer ones. They are the roots of one's personality, the core of each individual.

⎯ Saturn & Jupiter are the SOCIAL PLANETS as their orbit is neither slow or fast and are intermediaries between personal and generational, they represent both individual and social themes, such as morals, values ethics and ideals, as well as society structure and boundaries.

⎯ Uranus, Neptune & Pluto are the GENERATIONAL/OUTER/SPIRITUAL PLANETS and can be considered as secondary to the Personal Planets due to being way slower and can take years to change from sign to sign, indicating characteristics of entire generations/that apply on a larger scale.

⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯

The following descriptions are based on some books I've read, written by professional and experienced astrologers:

(¹) "The Contemporary Astrologer's Handbook" by Sue Tompkins

(²) "Hellenistic Astrology" by Chris Brennan

(³) "The Twelve Houses" by Howard Sasportas

(⁴) "Saturn: a New Look to an Old Devil" by Liz Greene & Robert Hand

(⁵) "On The Heavenly Spheres" by Helena Avelar & Luis Ribeiro

(⁶) "Exploring Jupiter" by Stephen Arroyo

(⁷) "The Jupiter/Saturn Conference Lectures (Lectures on Modern Astrology)" by Liz Greene & Robert Hand

(⁸) "Ancient Astrology in Theory and Practice" by Demetra George & Chris Brennan

♄ SATURN (I discipline) - control, inhibition, limitation, restriction, lack, sense of responsability, discipline, pain, patience, calmness under fire, frustration, hard work, self-denial, "right and wrong", fears, deny, delay, opposing development, the cold harsh reality of things, realistic attitude, prudent, boundaries, limits, rules, regulations, the father and authority figures (along with the Sun), strictness, authority, difficulty, the area where we are fearful and experience pain/anxiety especially at a young age, where we feel we're not good enough, where we inhibit ouselves, time, the shadow, "areas of our chart can feel awkward, graceless and clumsy – in early life at least", the voice of our conscience, punishment, inferiority complex, ironically also the area in which we excel, inadequacy, work vocation, harsh lessons, skin, bones, aging process, old age, teeth, deficiency, nails.

♃ JUPITER (I expand) - wisdom, ethics, morals, luck, gambling, larger-than-life attitude, exaggeration, opportunities, optimism, faith, blind confidence, generosity, abundance, ecxess, benevolence, charitable spirit, prosperity, wealth, abundance, joy, growth, expansion, buoyant attitude, entertainment, greed, "I want more and more", constant dissatisfaction and wanting more, urge to explore, long travels both physical than mental, higher education, beliefs (both religious and not), search for meaning, society and its laws/administration, "getting away with murder", hypocrisy, god-complex, grandiosity, politicians, salesmen, clergy, false appearence of virtue, arrogance, affluence and influence, extravagance, indulgence, aunts and uncles, body fat, the liver.

⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯

MASTERLIST

71 notes · View notes

mkycactusjuice · 27 days

Text

since we as a society moved on from this movie too fast i did then dirty work

#lisa frankenstein #fanart #horror fanart #horror #80s

23 notes · View notes

pro-mammonologist · 2 years

Note

Congrats on 500 ♥

For the event: I think about Mammon who is very horny, but feels guilty about it because MC looks too innocent. Some kind of hurt/comfort? Then it turns out that MC is pretty horny too ~

Mammon really struggled to stop himself sometimes. At least when it came to his urges, whether it was his greed or something else. Throughout knowing you, he’d always find himself feeling so strongly for you, the urge to touch you and make you his, but he knew he must wait for you to let him. So he’d take to touching himself, rubbing out one every chance he could.

It wasn’t until you two were together that he finally felt comfy with expressing himself around you but there was one thing that he could never tell you. His thumb would hover over send each time he wanted to send you something dirty but he would always delete the message. When you were nuzzling into him mid-cuddle and your bottom would brush against him, he’d tell himself not to say anything and wait.

After all, humans like you were so innocent! He remembers back when he last went to the human world, sex was so taboo! It was all missionary and in the dark under the blankets. Sure, he knows things have changed, he’s watched plenty of human movies, and listens to human music… but that’s not you. Everybody is different right? He’d be… defiling you, almost. Plus, no human can compare to a demon’s horniness!

You, on the other hand, thought completely different from him. Society is changing and so is the view on sex, so is the view on how much sex and how kinky the sex is. You wanted him, really, really bad. It was so hard to tell him, especially since each time you’d get ready to make a move, he’d shy away and avoid it. Did he not find you sexually appealing? You definitely found him sexy! You wanted to ask him outright what the issue was, but what if he just confirmed your assumption?

You’d brush your bottom against his crotch, waiting for a response, just for him to reposition and not respond. You’d start a conversation around sex and he’d be quiet or completely miss the point. It had gotten to the point that you were just desperate. And now that you’re situated on top of him, tongue in his mouth feeling him up and down, you know exactly what he’s going to do.

“Mammon, I want you.” You huffed as your mouths separated.

“Mm.” He continued to kiss you, his only response a grunt.

You pushed him away. “Do you want me?” You looked at him, his eyes wide and flitting away.

“Yeah.” His response was quiet.

You felt your stomach sink and you looked down trying to hide the tears forming in your eyes. He looked back at you and saw the change in demeanor.

“What’s wrong?” You looked away from him, trying to swallow the lump in your throat. His heart was beating like crazy. “Mc?”

You nodded. “I’m fine.” Rushing the words out as fast as possible. “It’s okay, I just need to get up.” You left his lap and rushed to your room, leaving Mammon alone on his couch. He watched you leave, wondering if he should follow you.

You settled in your room and sat with your back against the door, holding your knees against your chest. You didn’t know if you wanted to cry or not, to let all the emotions fly. Your phone dinged.

Mammon: did I do something? Whatever I did I’m sorry I didn’t mean to upset you please Mc.

You looked at the message and tried to think of what to say.

Mammon: I’m really sorry.

Mammon: can ya say something?

You tentatively moved your thumbs over your screen.

Mc: am I not attractive to you?

Mammon really couldn’t believe his eyes when he received the message. Are you kidding?

Mammon: ain’t no way that’s the problem. You’re more than beautiful. Might as well take Asmo’s place as the prettiest in the Devildom.

You felt flattered but that wasn’t what you wanted to hear.

Mc: why do we only ever just make out?

Mammon: wdym?

Mc: I want to know why don’t you touch me or you know

Mammon’s heart skipped a beat, he stood up from the couch and started to walk your way, still texting.

Mammon: I do want to touch you. But I never think you do.

You felt your lip quiver.

Mc: I always want you.

Mammon knocked on your door. “Can I come in?” You stood up in front of the door hesitated before letting him in. He came face to face with you, little tears coating your face complemented by your puffy eyes and strained face. “Mc, I’m sorry I make you feel that way.” You wrapped your arms around him, both so he couldn’t see the tears in your eyes and to also get that comfort you desired.

“It’s okay.”

“No, it’s not. You shouldn’t ever feel unwanted. Or undesirable or whatever.” He kissed your neck, not in a sexual way but in an ‘I love you’ way. “I’m obsessed with ya, in every way. Yer friggin’ perfect.”

You continued to hold him, not wanting to pull away. You tried to calm your emotions and let the tears remain in so you could talk to him.

He could tell you were trying to calm down. “I’m sorry I never do anything. I always think that—that you—well, I dunno how to explain.” He was struggling to find a way to explain your assumed innocence. “You seem so innocent. So humanly.” He settled on that. You found yourself confused by his words.

Humans! Innocent!!??? Does he know anything about humanity?

You actually laughed a little, confusing him. “Why’re ya laughin’?”

“Humans are so not innocent.” You couldn’t help back let go to get a look at his face, which was was just the way you expected it. Dumbfounded. “Jeez, you demons and your assumptions about humans. I don’t know a single innocent human. Do you just think we are a bunch of Lukes running around?” You were now really laughing especially with his newfound face. He looked almost like a… fish?

“No! I just… okay.” He sighed and breathed in sharply. “Let me just get it out. I didn’t think you were as horny as me. I still don’t. Demons and temptation, ya know.”

“Mammon, that makes no sense. The average human has a sexual thought every few minutes or seconds or something like that. We literally have 100 year lifespans we sorta are inclined to always think about sex. And you demons, millennia long lifespans. You don’t have to have babies 24/7.” You weren’t crying at all anymore and now Mammon was absolutely in shock.

“Every few seconds!!! No way!! Uh uh.”

“Let’s look it up.”

Mammon shuffled through his ddd and then plastered his phone in your face. “Told ya. It’s 19 times a day.”

“Uh, Mammon, it ranges from like 19 to 388.”

“Only in men!”

“Well I probably think about sex with you about 388 times a day.”

“Pssh. Then I’m probably in the thousands.”

“No, Mammon you don’t think enough for that.”

He wanted to say something but he ended up just looking at you. You could tell all that tension from earlier was already making a return at least for him.

“You okay, now?” You nodded. “Let’s go back to my room.” You nodded again and took his hand. When you got to his room, he got red and stopped in his tracks. “You wanna have sex now?”

“Mammon, didn’t we just talk about this? If you reject me now, I’m never looking at you again.”

He grinned and licked his lips, pulling you into his room by the waist. “Clearly, we have no choice!”

Note: this is canon. Change my mind.

#obey me #mammon x mc #obey me shall we date #mammon #currently under mammons bed #mammon smut #mammon fluff #obey me mammon x reader #obey me headcanons

438 notes · View notes

pedroscurls · 1 year

Text

Third Time’s A Charm (Part 2).

Character(s): Frankie “Catfish” Morales , Reader (female, second person POV) Summary: Santiago tells the guys his plan and Frankie asks you a very important question. Word Count: 3,499 Author's Note: I’m obsessed with this story and have been writing non-stop. I hope you all are enjoying it as much as I am writing it! I will also be deviating a little bit from the movie regarding Tom, how Santiago asked the guys about Colombia, and the fact that I’m making Frankie not have a kid. Anyway, we are just at the tip of the iceberg... Stay tuned😉 Warning: Brief mention of implied drug use.

“Frankie,” you smiled. You felt your stomach do flips at the usual nickname hermosa. You couldn’t even focus on anyone or anything else besides him. He was staring at you like you were the only person in the room, his focus solely on you.

The sounds of the crowd faded and you awkwardly reached around to give him a one-armed hug. Frankie, though, wrapped both arms around your waist. You felt his broad chest flush against your own, his strong arms embracing you so tight that you didn’t ever want to let go. And his cologne? You inhaled deeply, his scent filling your senses as you shut your eyes for a brief moment. This felt all too familiar, so you pulled away quickly, taking a step back to give yourself some distance.

But Frankie… Frankie was still staring at you.

“You look great,” he commented. “How long has it been?”

“A little over a year,” you answered all too quickly. “How are you?”

Frankie shrugged. “I’m okay.” You knew what that meant and arched a brow in his direction. Your eyes raked over him from top to bottom, noticing how he brought the cup of beer to his lips. He wasn’t wearing a wedding ring, which confused you.

“Hm, not buying it,” you said.

Frankie let out a quiet chuckle. After he swallowed the contents of his beer, he gently nudged his shoulder against you. “Even after all this time, you can still see through me.”

“Only because you’re not good at hiding it,” you teased.

Frankie feigned a pout. “I think I’m pretty good at it. My lady doesn’t even notice.”

My lady. He was still married.

You forced a smile and shrugged, finally moving your eyes away from him to see Benny enter the ring. Frankie noticed the shift immediately, biting the inside of his cheek as he glanced over at Santiago who was staring at him. He wanted to move away from you, to keep his distance; after all, he was a married man, but he couldn’t. He wanted to be near you; it had been too long and it surprised him that he felt an immediate sense of relief and safety with you around.

He hadn’t ever felt that way, not even with his wife.

Frankie opened his mouth to say something, but was interrupted when you turned away to give Tom a tight hug. He watched as you whispered something into the older man’s ear, seeing his shoulders slump and a breath of relief escape his lips.

You had been the missing piece that this group needed. You knew how to bring each one of them out of their shell without forcing them to talk about things they didn’t want to. Your presence brought comfort, a sense of safety and security, and the way you loved and cared about each one so genuinely and passionately gave each man the relief they needed to just let go of society’s expectations.

Truly, each man had a soft spot for you. Aside from Frankie, you considered each man like a brother to you. So, when you pulled away from Tom, he looked at you with sad eyes and you didn’t have to ask him to know what was bothering him.

“It’ll be okay,” you said.

He shrugged. “Maybe.”

“It will be. How’s Tess?”

“Growing up too fast,” Tom chuckled.

Before you could respond, though, another man walked up to you and the group. He glanced at each man before his eyes settled on you. He was tall, muscular, with deep blue eyes and dark hair. He was handsome, but he wasn’t Frankie. The men of your group knew what this man was about to say and when you flashed him a smile, they watched him get a bit flustered.

You had always been so sweet, so nice, even when you weren’t interested.

“Um, hi,” he said quietly. For a man as built as he was, as handsome as he was, it was surprising that he was so shy; it was almost endearing. “I don’t want to sound like a creep, but I noticed you over there and just wanted to say hi.”

“Well, hi,” you smiled. You told him your name and he returned the smile, showcasing his dimples.

“I’m Alex,” he replied. “Do you come to these often?”

Frankie, Tom, Santiago, and Will were all watching this unfold. The man had the guts to be talking to you, but he didn’t seem bothered by the group you were with. Instead, he was more nervous about making conversation with you than he was with the guys that were standing next to you.

“Not always, but Benny’s a close friend of mine. So are these guys,” you answered, motioning to the men behind you.

Your eyes met Frankie’s and you noticed how he was staring hard at the both of you. You noticed jealousy in his features with the way his jaw was clenched. You bit your lower lip and turned your attention back to the man in front of you.

“That’s pretty cool. Um, I was wondering, can I get your number?”

And there it was. Frankie took a step forward, but was stopped by Santiago. You looked over your shoulder at him before letting out a quiet sigh.

“I’m sorry,” you answered. “I don’t feel all that comfortable giving my number out.”

The man nodded. “Understood.” He cleared his throat and motioned over his shoulder. “I should get back to my group of friends.”

You nodded. “It was nice meeting you, Alex.”

When the man walked away, you let out a quiet chuckle and glanced over at the men who were now staring at you. “What?”

“He seemed nice,” Frankie blurted out.

“Well, he was polite, but he isn’t my type.” You replied, staring directly at him.

Santiago arched his brow, looking between the both of you before he shared a glance with Will and Tom. “Anyway, you all up for drinks after this?”

Will chuckled to himself. “Sounds good.”

—

After Benny’s fight, you all went to a nearby bar and sat at an outdoor table. You were seated in between Frankie and Santiago, trying not to focus solely on Frankie’s body heat radiating so close to yours.

“So, update us, what’s going on with you?” Benny asked, pointing in your direction.

You shrugged, sipping at your drink. “Nothing new going on.”

“Not seeing anyone?” Benny asked, his eyes quickly glancing at Frankie.

“Nope,” you replied quickly, dropping your eyes. “No one’s caught my interest. Besides, I’m too focused on work.”

“Right,” he grinned mischievously. “How is the teaching gig?”

“It’s great,” you smiled. “It’s something I’ve always dreamt of doing. Teaching literature at a college level…”

Frankie smiled at that. He could listen to you talk for hours, especially when you showed as much passion and interest as you did with literature. He looked over at you and cleared his throat, deciding to chime in.

“I’m proud of you.”

You looked over at him, a blush appearing on your cheeks. “Thank you, Frankie.”

“I knew you could do it.” He smiled, gently reaching out to rest his hand over yours. You bit your lower lip, feeling his touch against your skin gave you a glimpse of the times you shared with each other and how his hands had roamed your body plenty of times.

The rest of the men looked at the both of you, noticing that you and Frankie had shared plenty of moments tonight. Santiago gave Benny, Will, and Tom a knowing look and they all stood up simultaneously. Breaking out of your trance with Frankie, you looked up at them and arched a brow.

“We’re gonna get more drinks. You guys stay, keep our table occupied so no one grabs it,” Santiago said.

“Pope,” Frankie warned.

“Relax, Fish. Next round is on me.”

Will, Benny, and Tom followed Santiago back inside the bar, giving you and Frankie the much needed alone time. You pulled your hand away from his, biting the inside of your cheek nervously as you brought your drink to your lips.

“How's married life?” You finally asked.

Frankie cleared his throat. “Good,” he nodded. He didn’t know what else to say. In fact, he and his wife had been having marital issues since she had found out that his license was suspended for cocaine use. Frankie had been having trouble the past couple of months and turned to coke to alleviate some of the pain he felt.

“I’m happy for you,” you whispered. “She seems great for you.”

Frankie looked at you. While you could see through his lies, Frankie could see through yours too. He noticed how you bit at your lower lip, how your eyes looked around the room, avoiding eye contact, and especially how you picked at your fingernails.

“I’m happy for you too,” Frankie replied. He reached out, gently resting a hand over yours to stop you from picking further at your nails. “You got your dream job, hermosa. Your hard work paid off.”

“Did it though?” You blurted out. “I had to sacrifice a lot to get to where I am now and I’m not sure if it was a good idea.”

Frankie said your name. “Look at me,” he said quietly. You shook your head. Frankie sighed. “Hermosa…”

You looked up at him. Tears stung your eyes and you tried to blink them away, but the way Frankie was looking at you, you knew that he was aware of what you were feeling.

“You know that I couldn’t have asked you to stay, right?” Frankie said.

“But why didn’t you?”

“That school was your dream,” he replied. “It would be selfish of me to ask, especially when I knew that if I did, you would have given up that dream to stay here.”

“But I’d be with you.”

Frankie sighed. “I know…” He knew very well that if you had never left, you would be the woman he was married to and he probably would have been ten times happier than he was now, but he couldn’t dwell on the possibilities of what could have happened. You both made your choices and now you both had to live with it.

“I miss you,” you admitted, bringing a hand to wipe your eyes. “But I am happy for you, Frankie.”

“Come ‘ere, hermosa.” Frankie pulled you into a hug and when he felt both your arms wrap around him, he melted into you. It was wrong of him to be comparing you to the woman he was married to, but he couldn’t stop himself. Just hugging you like this made him feel safe, made him feel like this was where he belonged.

Frankie whispered quietly into your ear. “I miss you too, hermosa.”

When you pulled away, you looked up at him and noticed that you were both in each other’s personal space, lips inches from touching. His hands rested on your hips, gently rubbing circles into your shirt and therefore slowly lifting it to touch your skin. You shivered at the touch, your mind throwing out any morals that this was wrong, that this man was married, but you two shared so much history that you knew you couldn’t just forget.

“Frankie… We can’t.”

He sighed, pulling away and sitting back in his seat. “I know.”

Before you could say anything else, Santiago and the rest of the guys came back to the table. You could hear their laughter and you glanced over at Frankie who forced a smile. All you noticed was Frankie putting on his mask and pushing aside his feelings. You tried to do the same, but being so close to him and being with the rest of the guys brought back so many memories.

“I should head home,” you blurted. “It’s late and–”

“It’s Friday night,” Santiago replied.

“I have a lot of papers to grade, Santi.”

You and Santiago shared a look. He glanced over at Frankie, noticing the distraught in his features as he looked away from him.

“One more drink and we’ll call it a night,” Santiago bargained.

You nodded, excusing yourself to go to the bathroom. You shared a look with Frankie and it almost stopped you in your tracks, but you gently rested a hand on his shoulder, giving it a gentle squeeze before leaving the table.

Once the rest of the guys made sure that you were out of ear shot, they all nudged Frankie and let out a quiet chuckle.

“Like old times, huh, Fish?” Tom smiled.

“I mean, seriously,” Benny added. “The way she looks at you, Fish, it’s like no time has passed at all.”

Will nodded in agreement. “It’s obvious she still loves you.”

Santiago glanced over at Frankie and added, “Question is… If you’re gonna do anything about it.”

Frankie shook his head. “I can’t. I’m married.” He shared a look with Tom, knowing all too well that other man was dealing with his own separation with Molly and how it had taken a toll on him.

The rest of the men just nodded and decided to leave the subject alone. Frankie, though, thought about you plenty of times throughout the years, but seeing you and realizing that the feelings you both shared were still there had him thinking about the possibility of being with you again.

“So, Pope,” Tom said, looking over at Santiago. “You’re back from Colombia… What happened?”

Santiago’s eyes lit up for a moment and leaned in close, his hands linking together in front of him.

“I can get Lorea, but I can’t do it alone.”

“Haven’t you been trying that for years, Pope?” Tom asked. “What’s different this time?”

“I couldn’t find him, but I finally did.”

Frankie, Will, and Benny shared a look before turning their attention back to Santiago.

“17 grand for a week of work, guys,” Santiago added. “With a possibility of more. Listen, I made a deal with the agency down there, got us a good deal. We keep 25% of anything we seize and…” Santiago looked around the table, noticing how the rest of the guys were listening intently. “I have an estimate that Lorea’s got over 75 million dollars in cash with him.”

And there it was. The big and final selling point. Santiago and the rest of the guys knew how important this could be, how much money that was and how it could change their entire lives, but it was dangerous.

And they were all retired veterans.

“Holy shit,” Benny said.

“I got it all planned,” Santiago said. “I have it all planned out. Just– I can’t do this alone. I need you guys. This can be good for all of us. We deserve this.”

“I’m in,” Benny said.

Will looked over at his younger brother, his jaw tightening for a brief moment. “Count me in too.”

Santiago nodded, clasping a hand over his shoulder. He looked over at Tom and Frankie, his eyes big and curious.

“Fish? I need a pilot. I can’t do this without you.”

“I don’t know, Pope.” Frankie sighed. “I lost my license. I can’t even fly right now.”

Santiago was quick to respond. “I’m in with the army down there. I don’t need a pilot with a license, just someone I can trust.”

Frankie let out a breath. “I got busted. It’s not a big deal.”

Santiago arched his brow. “What?”

“Actually, it’s a big deal.”

Santiago sighed. “Is it coke?”

Frankie didn’t respond.

Santiago looked around the table, noticing how the rest of the guys didn’t look surprised, but then again, they had been here, in the States, with Frankie while Santiago was in Colombia.

“Jesus, Frankie. Come on.”

Frankie sighed. “I’m workin’ on it. Besides, technically, it’s a suspension. I’m still under review. Count me in.”

“Redfly?” Santiago asked, pointing to Tom. “We need you on this. It’ll be good for you. Come on. You can’t be selling condos… You deserve this more than all of us.”

Tom sighed. “No live fire, and I’m in.”

“That’s all right,” Santiago replied. “We got you covered.”

“When do we leave?” Frankie asked.

Santiago replied. “Thursday. We got about a week to prepare.”

The rest of the guys nodded and they all lifted their glasses in the air to cheers. You noticed the five men raising their glasses with each other and you took your seat back in between Frankie and Santiago.

“What are we celebrating?” You asked.

Santiago smiled. “We’re going to Colombia.”

You looked over at him. Your face fell and you sighed, glancing around the table to look at each man. You were right. They would follow each other no matter where it was or what they had to do.

“Be safe,” you said. “Please.”

“We’ll be back in a week, so we expect you to welcome us with open arms,” Benny teased with a wink.

“Oh, I’ll even pick you guys up at the airport,” you chuckled. “But seriously, be safe.”

—

Santiago stayed true to his word. After one more drink, all of you were now saying goodbye in the parking lot of the bar. You were hugging Benny and Will while Frankie, Santiago, and Tom were talking amongst one another.

“You know you gotta tell her about the coke situation,” Tom said.

“Who? My wife? She knows. She isn’t happy, but she knows.” Frankie replied.

“No, not your wife. Her,” he corrected, pointing in your direction. “And trust me, Fish, if there is even an ounce of love that you still feel for her, you either stop it before it gets out of hand or you decide if she’s the one you truly want. Either way, you’ll be hurting someone. If it’s not her, it’s your wife. If it isn’t your wife, it’s her.”

Frankie nodded, gently kicking the rocks underneath his boot. “Thanks, Redfly.” He gave Tom a hug and watched him make his way over to you, Benny, and Will.

“He’s right, you know.” Santiago said, clasping a hand over Frankie’s shoulder. “That woman still loves you.”

“I don’t know what to do, Pope.”

“Well, consequences aside, what do you want?”

Frankie sighed, watching as you hugged Tom goodbye. “I want her.”

“Then I suppose you got a lot of shit you need to think about then, don’t you?”

Once Benny, Will, and Tom left the parking lot, Santiago and Frankie watched you make your way back over to them.

“Can I take her home?” Frankie asked.

Santiago arched his brow. “If she’ll let you.”

Frankie scoffed and gently shoved the other man. He walked towards you, meeting you halfway and moved both hands to pocket in his jeans. “You mind if I take you home?”

“What?”

“Only if it’s okay with you,” Frankie said.

You glanced over at Santiago, watching the other man give you a nod and a thumbs up.

“Okay, yeah, sure. Let me say bye to Santi.” You walked over to Santiago and gave him a tight hug, quietly whispering to him.

“Will I see you all before you leave for Colombia?”

Santiago nodded, pulling away and looking down at you. “Yeah, of course.”

“I’ll make dinner. You guys can come over.”

“You? Cook?” Santiago teased. “Maybe order pizza instead.”

You laughed, gently pushing him. “Ha ha. It was only one time that you got sick from my cooking.”

“Right, well, if you plan on cooking, make sure to read the expiration date.”

You smiled, giving him one more hug. “Okay, okay. I’ll see you next week.”

“You gonna be okay with him?” Santiago asked, pointing over at Frankie.

You nodded. “I’m the safest when I’m with him.”

“That’s not what I mean.”

“I know what you meant, Santi. I’ll be okay.”

Santiago nodded, grabbing his keys from his pocket. “Let me know when you get home.”

“You too. Drive safe.”

Then, you turned to Frankie and noticed him looking at you with those brown eyes that you had come to love. They softened at the sight of you and he walked towards the passenger side of his truck and opened your door.

“Still the gentleman, I see.” You teased, looking up at him.

Frankie smiled. You took note of the dimple in his right cheek. You missed his smile, missed him. He took a step forward, entering your personal space once more. Your back was against his truck and he trapped you in between his frame and his vehicle with his hand gripping the top of the car door.

“Hermosa,” he whispered. His voice lowered. Frankie’s eyes darkened. You knew that look all too well, knew exactly where this could go if you let it.

“Frankie…”

“I have a question to ask you.” Frankie replied, leaning down inch by inch as your lips hovered against his own. This was dangerous territory. You knew that if you closed the gap between you and him, there would be no going back.

“What?” You asked quietly.

“Do you still love me?”

Part 3.

#frankie morales #frankie morales fanfiction #frankie morales fanfic #pedro pascal #pedro pascal character fanfiction #pedro pascal character fanfic #triple frontier #triple frontier fanfiction #triple frontier fanfic #frankie morales x reader #frankie morales x you #frankie morales x reader (you)#francisco morales #francisco catfish morales #story: third time's a charm #francisco morales fanfiction #francisco catfish morales fanfiction

197 notes · View notes