#{/i finally figured it out. it has me both cackling and cringing VERY hard at the same time.}

[blindedguilt]

((from @booksofthelibrary ))

The young girl runs up behind the boy and sprays him playfully with a little bit of water. A harmless prank as she giggles before handing him a brand new net that she made for him. A 'R' carved into its handle.

"happy birthday!"

::RIVERSAL

"Waaah...!!" A sharp squeal erupted from the boy at the feeling of cold water on his back, the momentarily cry of shock quickly turning to a string of bright giggles as he flicked back a few drips from his hair towards Daffy. "Oi, you!! I'll get you for that, you know! You better watch your back, miss..."

He could hardly say he was displeased at her betrayal so much as pleased he had someone to play with! His brothers tried, but could never fully get in on his games, whether it be through confusion or other business they had to attend to.

Admittedly, though he would never say it out loud, he secretly felt rather jealous, perhaps even upset at the news of her getting together with Lukhege when he had initially found out. It was frustrating, in a way - he had finally found himself a friend to play with, and for what? ...Yet, even despite those initial worries, he was glad to be further comforted in the thought that he hadn't been forgotten by her presence with him that day.

The once beaming smile faded with the momentary rush of excitement and into curiosity as he was offered the finely crafted net. "Oh...This is..." A soft red creeped up to his cheeks with a sheepish, somewhat awkward look to his smile as he idly turned it over in his hands. It would have seemed forced in a way that he was trying to smile if not for the faint twinging at the corners of his lips threatening to break out into a wide grin. For someone who was usually so excitable, it seemed Riversal in particular had the most trouble accepting gifts - even compared to his younger brother Laum, who, while sheepish, was always capable of clearly showing his gratitude. Riversal, however...

The boy's long coat swayed as he rocked back and forth once on his heels, unable to fully look the other in the eyes as he spoke in a quiet, awkward little peep. "Thank you, Daffy... This is... Nice. Um...! Thank you. Well..."

Promptly, he spun on his heel, took a few awkwardly shuffled steps, and sat with his back turned and his feet spread to either side of the net he held between his legs. Though she couldn't see it, it wasn't hard to guess how red his face must have been as part of the kind gesture.

"...Come back later," He said suddenly, a flatly dismissive, determined tone to his voice, "I have something to think about." One of his tricks, now involving his new present, most like. "Thanks... Again."

His next words, though meant to be spoken in a tease, came off as nothing but a half-hearted suggestion in all his distraction. They were nothing more than a mouthed, near-inaudible whisper as he stared and plucked idly at the strings of the net with his fingers, too deep in thought to even notice the water dripping from his hair, much less to speak. "...Go chat with your boyfriend..."

Whatever could he be plotting? Whoever could he be plotting against? Riversal didn't speak, and sat there deep, deep in thought for a very long time.

"Hah! Got you!!"

...Ah, poor Leonard. It seemed that he had been chosen the unfortunate victim of his prank that evening. From a distance, the small Riversal could be seen standing triumphantly atop his older brother's back like a proud hunter with his prey. Leonard, conversely, would have been near invisible if not for his large form and the striking beige of his coat against the greenery of the forest. The poor hermit laid cruelly fettered on the ground, all that was visible being the blond of the head that laid face-down and the shoulders of both arms spread on either side. The net that had toppled him should have been relatively easy to remove from the foot tangled within it - his brother that stood on his back, however, was not.

"Please, release me at once!" The muffled plea sounded from the ground. With a dramatically boisterous laugh, Riversal's hands found themselves resting smugly atop his hips.

"No! I've got you, now, brother~!"

"Riversal! Please!!" A bit more insistence in his tone, and enough in a voice as deep as his to make the now 11-year-old almost immediately jump out of his skin and straight to the side of his ailing brother.

"Sorry, sorry! I'm sorry!!" Riversal was the one pleading now, his tone as frantic and shaky as his hands as he removed the trap net from Leonard's back. The eldest looked pale as he sat up on his knees, deathly silent in the face of his younger brother's apologies and concerns as to his wellbeing - his eyes were screwed tightly shut. He seemed shaken, with his shortness of breath, Laum noticed with a tiny frown.

...Maybe he was claustrophobic? Poor brother.

#||Reply||:Daffy #{/SO MANY THINGS TO SAY ABOUT THIS...} #{/First and foremost: an apology. that day i told you i had it done and would send it out that night only to not do that?} #{/i wasnt lying i SWEAR; i just had it done but... i didnt look at my computer battery when i closed it for dinner and came back to it GONE #{/i was so pissed off i couldn't even think about it or any of my asks for the longest time until recently} #{/AND SOMETHING HAPPENED TO CAUSE THAT WHICH I'LL HAVE TO POST ABOUT SOON!!! gushy feels lmao} #{/I definitely won't say im grateful for LOSING the thing i spent so much time on but in the same breath} #{/this is honestly a lot better tbh} #{/I actually knew what I was doing with riv's character which is my next point!!} #{/the autism} #{/that is all} #{/finally; i wrote most of this last night when i was thinking about how magnitude negative} #{/*SMALL SMALL SPOILERS IN THE TERMS OF POTENTIAL CHARACTER DIVERGENCIES AHEAD*} #{/made leonard a masochist (like... a literal; full-on masochist im not even kidding) and} #{/daffy if he excuses himself please don't check up on him to make sure he's okay} #{/this also lined up HORRIBLY with my sudden connecting the dots on why riv's features looked so familiar to me} #{/one of those 'i've seen something like that somewhere before' situations; yeah?} #{/i finally figured it out. it has me both cackling and cringing VERY hard at the same time.} #{/i wont divulge anymore here but BOY OH BOY...}

[sweettodo]

we're your best friends.

jean kirstein x freader x eren jaeger.

includes : smut, threesome, swearing, innocent / naive y/n, taking virginity.

word count : 3,4k

a / n , thank you for 400 ( 450 as of 3 / 8 / 21 ) , i love you all <3 you're all so special to me and i’m grateful for you. i hope we can grow together as a big ole’ happy family !

"Do you guys ever stop?!" you bellow, your bedroom filled with the shouting amongst the two men in front of you, their rough voices which completely washed away any interjections you gave.

Sighing, you grab one of your notebooks from your desk, winding up your shoulder, and throwing it at Eren. The book slaps him in the face and he shouts, his hand rubbing his face.

"The fuck y/n!" He screeches, Jean, shutting up right after Eren, hair messy from tugging at it out of frustration. You wondered why a simple conversation about who would be the better gentleman; the better man. We had commenced in the formal meeting area- your room- hours ago, to study; hence the notebook used to bonk Eren's pitiful face, "you don't get it." He huffs.

"You two better stop acting childish before I kick you out." Walking between them and plopping down on your bed, pleased to see that the battle had now dwindled from your -very- empty threat. You couldn't kick them out even if you wanted to.

Everyone at school was very well acquainted with the fact that Jean and Eren both had a persistent problem of rivalry, they fought about everything; from who had the better penmanship, better wardrobes, better walk, to who was prettier.... yes, prettier.

Eren stubbornly sits on one corner of the bed, traversing his legs with his back pressed against the wall, Kerstein made himself relaxed in your desk chair, "as I was saying, before I was so impolitely interrupted-" you snort, glancing at the two men, "you both are gentleman, but it's more than just how you talk to a girl."

"Yeah don't be ridiculous, I'm good at more than you think y/n." Jean boasts, smirking and tauntingly glaring at Eren who returns the glare, hair seeping down his shoulders as he rolls his eyes at the cocky Kerstein.

"I'm a sex god, I can sex anyone up, anytime- anywhere." Jean lunging to his feet and stupidly rocking his hips side to side like the fuck-boy he knows he is, virtually wearing it like a badge. Eren and you snickered at him.

Jean grunts, finger in the air tauntingly, "alright! It's not that funny anymore! Quit laughing!" tears brimming your eyes, chest aching from laughing, the blonde now taking into account that you two were more laughing at him, rather than with him.

Defensively, he shouts, "Keep laughing, virgin." Jean grins, squatting back down in the chair dramatically.

"I can name plenty of girls who want to get with me." Eren retorts. Laying your back against the headboard, listening as Eren spews stories about the 'countless sexcapades' he has with girls every week and the 'countless' girls who plead to fuck him on the daily.

"So childish, especially for a couple of university students."

You're dismissed again, "Y/n, who do you think would be better in bed, be honest!" you evaluate the question as much as you could, not to mention how hard it was to even imagine.

Simply putting it, you were a prude.

They wait hastily for your reply, curious to what you had to say, the silence provoking them to shuffle in their seats.

"I think... hm, Jean." Eren groans out in defeat, Jean cackling and throwing his head back, Eren pouts and crosses his arms, huffing out.

"You know what, how the fuck would you know anyway, huh?" rolling your eyes, Jean who is taking his sweatshirt off and hanging it off your chair, heeding to Eren, who is still weeping, "Jean, that doesn't count, she's never gotten with either of us, to begin with, her judgment doesn't count." Declaring matter-of-factly, Jean rubs his chin with his thumb and index, looking into the distance like he was contemplating to speak.

You watched as Eren stands in annoyance, his arms still crossed, "I mean, we could show her, but-"

"-We should, then it'll be fair."

Left in utter shock, were they insinuating you do something so delusional and sinful with your two closest friends? wouldn't that ruin years of friendship? Have they no morals? And to think Eren would have a little more decency.

"No, no way, don't be ridiculous."

Jean sucks his teeth, leaning in his chair so his elbows sat on his knees, the energy in the room had drastically changed, they were now watching you, making your hands anxiously tremble, their eyes scanning yours, while you tried to look at anything but them, heart out of your chest and now in your throat, they sat so relaxed, so casual like the proposition of sex didn't even phase them.

"C'mon, I want you to tell us who's better, you're our best friend, you're the best one to determine who's best." Jean pouts, this was a very clear-detectable manipulation, and you were not inept.

"Are you trying to manipulate me, Kirstein?" he shakes his head, leisurely stretching back into the chair, "because if you are it won't work on me." Jean peeks over to Eren, looking to be affirmed.

Eren plays with the hem of his shirt, a smug look on his lips, looking down to attempt to hide it.

Both men have talked about getting you to become their little toy, countless times at dinner with all the other cadets to embarrass you- or during the summer when you wore shorts to practice with your gear, sparring with a tank top, they both imagined unholy things, things you would believe to be appalling. "How about- better kisser?" tilting your head, that wasn't so much worse.

"Yeah, we've nearly kissed before too," Jean interjects, he saw your eyebrows scrunch, looking mindless, eyes so naive, his head full of vile thoughts, ways he and Eren could corrupt you, tear you open, and leave you begging for more. But they clearly couldn't let you know what they talked about.

So innocent.

"Sharing drinks," nodding slowly, the boys internally prayed you would loosen up only just a little, just a foot in the door so they could kick the fucking door down and break you in- they both figured it was about time anyways; you were a college student and hadn't done anything?

But you had not even a clue, that dumb little head of yours, how could you not comprehend their tactics. This was their way to get your legs open? This was laughable to them; too easy.

Dragging your ass across the bed, not leaning on the wall anymore; you sat criss-cross in the middle of the mattress, center of their attention, "I guess you're right." Mind racing, Jean would never talk to you again if you had said no to at least kissing, and Eren would probably get upset with you, not eager in being your friend, most likely following in his friend's lead.

Jean rolls closer to the side of the bed in your chair, not even a foot away from you.

"I can go first, Eren?" Eren nods, he was beyond delighted, this was fucking crazy. Truth was, Eren, who was seldom nervous over this type of thing; yet he was envious that Jean could be so... persistent; wishing he could be the same. With Jean grabbing your chin, such a pretty face you had, especially when you were anxious.

Easy to mold, easy to manipulate you; to do whatever he wanted with a bat of his eyelashes and a polite smile.

And here he was- in the back of his head - telling himself that he needed to teach you not to be so susceptible from now on.

He squanders no time, capturing your lips with his own, moving in a swift and low action, you kiss him back. He was incredible, it was at the perfect pace, the residing taste of mint gum that filled your mouth.

No wonder the girls loved Jean so much.

His thumb caressing your cheek which sent little cringes of anxiety throughout your body- realizing you had to kiss Eren after this, this was going to make you so dirty, but how could you kiss Jean and leave your other friend out? How unreasonable that would be.

Eren's abrupt words make you jump, "alright horse face, stop hogging and share." Jean pulls back, lips light rosy pink, even a little swollen, he rolls backward in the chair, the other young man sits up in front of you while still comfortable on the bed.

Instead of Jean's approach, Eren tilts your head, kissing your jawline first, tensing up from the ticklish feeling, soft lips establishing morale towards your choice in agreeing to do what they asserted; it wasn't that terrible after all.

He kisses up to the corner of your mouth and then slowly kisses you on the lips, eyes fluttering closed, drunk off his smell, stomach doing backflips.

Gradually pulling back, he's smiling like a fool before scooching backward back to his spot.

"Who do you think was better?" Jean rushes, blushing and looking to your lap, thumbs playing with each other, subconsciously hoping they would do a little more.  You didn't know who was better, they both were so good, too good.

"I don't know, you both are really good,"

Jean was going mad, you tasted so fucking good, and he didn't know how much longer he could contain himself, trying to remain relaxed.

Eren's dick twitching in his pants when he heard you finally say his name instead of Kerstein's, he was ecstatic...

Jean stands and scoffs, "alright I'll give him that, but I'm good at everything else. Eren s' a fucking virgin boy." biting your tongue, you felt guilty, Jean was really good, telling yourself 'maybe I should stop being so uptight, they would never actually hurt me.' Eren sees you ponder, looking into space while you stewed on your sentiments, Jean with no awareness as he rambles on and on about how experienced he is.

Gnawing on your bottom lip, anxious, you needed to make the first move- you needed to make this right.

Slowly, making sure they're both watching, you begin to unbutton your blouse, bottom-up.

"What are you doing?"

"You two wanted to show me who was better?"

Jean's eyes bug out of his head, smile growing across his face, Eren stands, embarrassed from your suggestion, they were nearly jumping for joy, "but I don't know ho-"

Jean jerked your shoulders, "relax," He whispers, out comes a shaky breath when his hands waste no time to finish unbuttoning your top. "You trust us, you wanna' feel good, right?"

The room was silent besides the pounding of your heart; could it have been any louder?

Blouse wide open for both of them to see your chest. Eren, who sat inches from you tugged at the fabric on your right shoulder, "so pretty- look at these Eren," Jean's large hands cupping your tits, sitting pretty in your bra, your throat grows increasingly dry, the feeling in between your legs tingling, though, you had no idea how to interpret it.

Eren stands back up, standing shoulder to shoulder with his friend, his hand caressing down your back and gripping at the flesh of your skin.

Looking at them as they stare at your chest, their hands all over you. "Do you know how to do anything at all?" Eren asks, shaking his head, he looks at Jean and pulls his hand back, "Jean and I are gonna ake care of you."

"Yeah, okay." Jean pushing you on your back, legs barely open, unbuttoned your pants, tugging them off hungrily. Both looking at you with lust-filled eyes, they had never seen you like this; so bare. Your legs are propped up so Jean and Eren can both stand before them. Their hands trailing up your jittery thighs.

"I'll get you ready, yeah? I don't want to hurt you." Responding with a simple nod, Jean is crouching down so his head is leveled to your clothed cunt, Eren sits back on the bed and slides his hand under your back; with one hand, he's unclasping your bra and peeling it off your body, his soft hands massaging your tits, nipples sensitive when his thumbs spend extra time on them.

Nerves doubling over when Jean's hands now pulling down your matching panties, head snapping up, legs shutting to deter them, Eren pushing you back down. "Calm down, you'll be fine." He reassures.

Eren feeling the soft skin, under his hands, rolling your nipple in between his fingers, Jean dragging his large hands in between your thighs, "have you ever fingered yourself y/n? Made yourself cum?" beyond embarrassed, the way they were taking their time on you, slowly feeling you up, you were almost becoming frustrated. Shaking your head, Jean clicks his tongue, "this might feel weird, but you trust us, right?" An audible gasp is shot out of your mouth when his middle finger is raking up between your folds.

Hissing out as he adds another finger, both of them running up and down your slick pussy, pressing down on a bundle of nerves, "feels- weird!" the more he played around with your sensitive clit, the more your leg twitched, the ticking feeling filling up your stomach, core flexing as he repeated his offense, the same sensitive rubs as his two fingers curled and fucked into you.

"Jean-” He was going so slow, making sure he didn't stretch you out too much, he needed to save that for later.

"Here, come taste."

Eren's grabbing Jean's hand, your tongue lolling out, his coated fingers dragging down your tongue, lips wrapping around his digits, tasting the juices from your cunt.

"Tastes good, right?" fingers still deep in your mouth, you're nodding like a fool, Jean smiling at the sight of the reaction bestowed on your face, the taste of your cum tainting your tastebuds; "of course she likes it, look at her, she wants more."

Eren nods in return, he leans down over you, soft hair falling on your chest as he leaves wet little kisses down your chest, peppering you with his lips down to your belly button.

Watching Jean, who is getting on the bed beside you, his knees next to your head, Eren jumping into action to take his best friends place, his sweats falling low just blow his v- line, he pushes them down, craning your neck to look up at Jean who his also pulling down his pants.

Your throat squeezes shut, lifting your head, "I don't you think that I-" Jean's hand grabbing your hair to silence you, jerking your neck up.

"Don't worry, I told you we'll help you."

"Jean, chill out a little." Eren mumbles, your head getting dropped back onto the bed, eyes fixated on Eren's wide torso, the tent in his boxers which made your mouth water, "I'll go slow, okay?" Palming his cock through his boxers, he holds your legs from under your knees, his boxers just under his cock, sliding his hand down and removes the little bit of coverage he had left. Your eyes widening, he spits in his hand, stroking his throbbing tip a few times with his thumb before adjusting forward and rubbing his raw cock up against your slicked pussy.

The feeling of Eren's thick tip squeezing inside of you makes you cry out in pain, the stinging pain of Eren taking his time to slide into you, fitting into you as much as he can.

Jean pinning your arms up above your head, tears spilling from your eyes, "h-hurts!" you whine, Jean beside you pumping his cock in his fist.

"So fuckin' tight, no wonder it hurts so bad." His hands pinning your legs open and up, he pulls out.

Without warning, he picks up speed, your body curling up from the pressure.

“I forgot what virgin pussy feels like, so tight-” he mumbled, his eyes rolling to the back of his head from the way he could feel his heartbeat in his cock, he needed this so bad.

The pressure soon becomes desirable, wanting to feel it everything he thrusts into you, your complaints soon turn to moans, looking at jean through your eyelashes while he's fixated on the way your boobs bounce while Eren dives deeper into you.

"Don't forget to help Jean out, remember?"

You're situating yourself up on your elbows, turning your body so your head is between Jean's thighs, he's pushing your hair back and holding it in a loose but sufficient grip, "let me guide you."

His thumb swipes down your bottom lip, opening your jaw, tongue sliding past your lips to wrap around his cock like it's instinct.

"Good, just like that," he groans, his hand on the back of your head guiding you further down the base of his cock, Eren fucking you slowly, savoring the feeling of your walls clench around him, sucking him in, he could stay like this forever.

Your neck uncomfortably stretched to pleasure Jean made it all the more painful when he started pushing down the back of your throat; harder to catch your breath, harder to swallow the saliva that was seeping up the back of your throat, trying not to cough around his length.

"Been waitin’ too long for this,” Eren grunts, the lewd noises of his hits snapping against yours on one end while your nose is barely brushing against Jean’s hair around his stomach.

Jean slowly pulls out of your throat, drool following, giving you the chance to speak, “Eren, h-hot!” you cried, your stomach twisting, pussy squelching around his wide cock, head dizzy as you begin to feel like your floating.

Jean sees your body shake from beside him, while he pumps his cock in his free hand, his other hand is kneading your tit in his hand. “Oi, I think she's gonna cum- c’mon it's gonna feel so good, you're so close, pretty girl.” Eren drilling into you with your legs pinned open, moaning and gasping for air as you feel your hole spasm, body tingling as your eyes roll to the back of your head.

“C- I'm cumming!” your hand on Eren’s pec, pushing against him to ease the pressure of his cock buried fully inside of you, “f-fuck! Fuck, Eren!” his body sticky on top of yours, thighs uncomfortably stuck to his waist.

“God, can stay like this all day.” You panted like a dog, blinking the blurred vision out of your eyes from the blinding orgasm.

Jean’s getting off the bed, slapping your thigh to sign for Eren to get off of you, “I hope you can take it, pretty girl.” The brunette pulling up his boxers and sitting on the bed where Jean was just seated.

A panting mess, Jeans tearing you from your spot and pushing you on your hands and knees, Jean presses against the small of your back, pushing you into a deeper arch, abused pussy mere inches away from another cock.

Eren picks your head up by your hair, an evil smile growing on his face as he sees your face twist with pleasure, Jean pushing into your cunt, a mixture of his best friends’ cum already leaking out of your cunt, “gonna fill you some more, just stay still for me, okay?”

He holds your hips in place, the further his cock sunk into you, the more it hurt, the more he stretched you out, the more you were split open by the intimidating of him.

“If you keep squeezin’ me like that, ” he spits, unable to finish his sentence.

He thrusts into you from behind, held grounded in place as Jean ruts into your pussy mercilessly, Eren watching you cry and beg for stupid little nothings.

Cream covering his cock, feeling your walls tighten around him, he snakes his hand over your thigh, and to your clit, rubbing lose and light circles around the bud, your legs quivering, back jolting up from the overstimulation, “hm, what did I say about stating still?” ripping away from your clit, you whine and your back is pushed back down.

Jean mere inches away from climax, hips sputtering against your backside as you feel your juices drip down your thigh, sticking to his stomach.

Your head drops into the mattress.

“Pretty girl, we're far from done with you,” Eren’s purring into your ear, “dont give up now, we haven't gotten to the best part.”

The pad of Jean’s thumb is pressing against the rim of your tight, pretty virgin ass, “you can trust us, we haven't hurt you yet, have we?”

Nodding, this was only the beginning of a very- very long night. One of many, actually.

#i love jean and and eren pls #jean kirstein #jean kirstein smut #eren jeager smut #eren jaeger #eren yeager #jean x reader #eren x reader #eren x reader x jean #lemon #attack on titan eren yeager #attack on titan jean #aot #aot smut

[wonderful-wells-writing]

Fanclub; Chapter 1

EoWells x Reader

Some of the STAR Labs employees have a secret fanclub where they discuss Harrison Wells and share pictures they take when they think he isn't looking. Problem is it's not quite as secret as they think it is. The man himself seems to have taken an interest in the the little group, finding it to be the perfect place to find willing partners to satisfy his needs. And you're his next pick.

Work is dying down for the evening at STAR Labs. Chemists are checking that all the storage units are set to the proper temperatures. Engineers are making sure that everything that needs to be powered down is. Lab techs are cleaning up their stations. But nearly everybody is discussing their plans for the weekend.

There is one worker who is not engaging in such conversations. You are currently crammed between two sections of machinery, determined to get this wiring finished before leaving for the day. That way, Monday, bright and early your team can start doing test runs.

You are not engaging in conversation with others but rather are talking to yourself as you work. “Some red over here, blue wire over there.” Your grin would light up the room if anybody could see it. “I just love when a color-coded array comes together.” There’s a buzz on your right butt-cheek, and you squeal in surprise.

“Everything alright in there?” One of the other scientists looks up from the desk.

“Yeah, Bri,” you extract yourself from the machine parts. “My phone just went off, and I thought something shocked me.”

“Girl, I can not tell you how often that happens to me,” Bri takes her purse from a drawer and a jacket off the chair. “So, what are your plans for the weekend. More number crunching?”

You pull your phone from your back pocket. “Actually my college roommate is having a bachelorette party tonight. So I said I would swing by the bar for a bit.”

“Sounds fun,” Bri gives a wave before heading to the door. “Don’t party too hard.”

She returns the wave before opening a group chat app on her phone to see what the notification is about.

KittyCat42; O.M.G did you see Dr. Wells today? a shirt THAT tight can not be workplace appropriate!!!

Attached is a photo taken from a smartphone at an angle in which the subject does not seem to be aware their picture is being taken. Dr. Harrison Wells is leaning over a desk, examining something on a monitor. Kitty is right; his shirt is very tight, his biceps bulge through the long black sleeves.

You grin, considering sending a reply, but another message comes in first.

YummyBitch73; Think he’s got plans? Looking that good, he’s got to be going out tonight.

Your thumbs move across the screen to type a quick response.

BabyDoll14; Maybe he has a date tonight?

KittyCat42; wonder who the lucky girl is?

You lean against a nearby workbench, smirking at the screen.

---

On the other side of the lab, somebody picks up their phone to check the barrage of notifications coming in. They chuckle before adding their own two cents.

Speedy22: Hey, who knows, it could be a lucky guy.

YummyBitch73: Oh you wish, he is a lady killer through and through

BabyDoll14: I mean, who are we to judge if it’s a lucky lady or gent. Maybe he swings one way, maybe he swings both ways. Who cares, we’re just here to talk about his ass behind his back.

“Speedy’ nods, almost respecting the woman on the other side of the screen for staying objective about objectifying her boss.

Speedy22: Speaking of ass, I got this one yesterday

He opens his gallery and scrolls until an ‘appropriate picture is found. A nice shot of Dr. Wells from behind; the quality is incredible for a smartphone shot. The man’s shirt is riding up, showing a nice strip of the skin of his back, even a bit of where his boxers rise above the waistband of his hands.

YummyBitch73: Damn Speedy, you always get the good ones. You’ll have to teach me some photography lessons sometime.

KittyCat42: what kind of camera are you using? The quality is so gooooood.

“Hey,” a woman’s voice draws his attention away from his device. “Are you staying late again tonight?”

Harrison Wells takes a breath to look her up and down, mentally running through his mind all the employees to try and remember who it is at his office door. “I’ll be headed out soon; I just have to wrap some things up.”

He recalls who she is when he sees the look she’s giving him. Brianna Masters, a specialist working down in Lab C. She would have had to go out of her way to get to his office before leaving. Self-proclaimed president of the Dr. Wells Fanclub, he had just been interacting with the group chat of; after the former president left with a job offer at Mercury Labs. She had been making goo-goo eyes at him since her interview three months ago.

“Well,” Bri twirls a curl of her hair, fluttering her eyelashes. “Harrison, you know I was wondering if you might like to take me out to get some drinks tonight?”

Dr. Wells tries to hide his displeasure at the thought. She wasn’t his type, physically, mentally, emotionally, “I have plans in the morning that require a clear head. Miss. Masters. Now is there anything of importance that you need?” The man was not adverse to flights of fancy to pass the time; he wouldn’t be keeping an eye on the little Fanclub of his if he wasn’t willing to look for ‘interested parties,’ but this particular woman has been of no real interest to him.

For reasons such as how she pouts at his response, “Well, having fun is important.” She mutters before wandering off down the hall, turning her attention to her phone.

YummyBitch73; holy Shit! He just asked me out for drinks. It sucks so much that I have to drive out to Coast City; I”d have taken him up in a heartbeat otherwise.

----

Back in Lab C, you finally finish with the maintenance on the machine. You check your phone once more while heading over to the desk and nearly cackle at what you’re reading. Everybody knows that Bri is full of shit, but there’s no point in calling it out and causing discourse.

You mute the phone to focus on your computer. While humming a quiet tune, you work on moving files to the USB stick plugged into the monitor.

“Fuck,” you whisper, seeing the download time in comparison to the clock on the screen. Of course, you could just leave it be, take the weekend off. It’s not like you get paid extra to run calculations at home.

17 minutes later

“Nonononono, wait, please!” You’re half running to the street as the bus pulls away, leaving you in the illuminated circle of a streetlamp, cursing yourself. That was going to be the last bus coming this way for the night. If you walk home, you’ll never make it in time to change for the party. You might not even make the event at all. You pace up and down the sidewalk, contemplating your options.

A car pulls up beside you, tinted window rolling down, “Need a lift?”

You stop, shocked, “Oh, no I…” you pause, looking through the window, “Dr. Wells, hi...hey.” You swallow your pride. “I would really love to get a ride on-with, with you.” Internally you cringe at how that came out, but figure he probably wouldn’t have heard such a minor slip.

The lock clicks open, and you reach for the door.

“Maple Apartments on South 11th street, right?” Harrison glances at you as you get in the car.

You pause before shutting the door, “do I want to know how you know that?”

He laughs, and you jump a bit at it, “I can see how that would sound a little suspicious.” His smile is reassuring, and his blue eyes are kind behind his glasses. “It was on your registration forms when you started. I enter new employee data myself. Total recall can be useful even for small matters.”

You breathe a sigh of relief, shutting the door and buckling in. “I really appreciate this Dr. Wells, I would have been so late tonight if I didn’t get home to change soon.”

“Bit plans tonight?” Harrison asks as he starts driving. Truth is he had suspected you’d be missing her bus. He had seen you running after the last bus or driven past you walking home numerous times out his way out. You had quite the habit of working until the absolute last moment.

You smile, twiddling your thumbs to keep your hands occupied. “Yeah, I’m meeting a friend at the new bar that opened down the street from my place. She’s getting married soon, and since I can’t make the wedding, I promised I would spend at least a couple hours at her bachelorette party.” You aren’t exactly sure why you’re volunteering this information to your boss. It would be inappropriate to be so casual with him; then again, it’s also inappropriate to be part of a Fanclub that secretly takes pictures of him and talks about how great his ass looks.

Harrison ‘hmms’ in thought. “Why can’t you make it to the wedding?” He glances at you out of the corner of his eye, taking a moment to take in the way you sit, act, look, before returning his eyes to the road.

“Oh, they scheduled it for a Wednesday, so,” you look towards him just moments after he looks away. The first thing you notice is his hair; whenever you’ve seen him in the morning, it’s perfectly combed and straight, but it seems like as the day went on, it began to take on a life of its own. While the back is still nice and neat, the front is sticking out in all kinds of directions.

“You could have asked for the day off,” Dr. Wells offers, “Am I such a terrible boss that you think I”d deny you some vacation after all your hard work?”

You feel a heat rise to your cheeks at what seems to be a compliment to her work ethic, “Oh no, I don’t think that at all. It’s just that, well, we have so much work to do. Every day we get a little closer to your dreams of the particle accelerator, and I want to contribute absolutely everything I can to that dream.” You smile. “You’re going to do such incredible things for the world of science Dr. Wells, and I don’t want to waste any time that could be spent helping you.”

The man is somewhat stunned by this. He’d attributed her long hours and determination to personal ambition. “What about you? Do you want history to remember you for your achievements?”

You bite your lower lip in thought at the question, “I mean sure, it would be nice to be recognized for my contribution, but,” she takes a deep breath, “I’m more concerned about how my work will impact the world, not so much if I’m remembered for it. Anyways you’re the true genius. I can tell that STAR Labs will make big changes and put humanity on a path towards the future. As long as I get to be a part of that, it’s all I really need.”

Harrison does a low chuckle at your sentiment, amused by the naivety. You speak with such hope and wonder and admiration. If you knew the truth, how horrified would you be? The realization of the end goal of the particle accelerator, the effects across history that your determination would wreak.

He grins, “Well, I am glad to have such a dedicated employee, but I do believe that one off day is not going to hurt our progress.”

You purse your lips, “You don’t come down to Lab C very often; you’d be surprised how off the rails things can go when I’m not there. Anyways I would rather work than go to a wedding. It’s not my kind of scene.”

He can sense that you are holding something back but doesn’t press the issue any further. He’s reached your apartment building anyways.

“If you change your mind, I’ll be more than happy to give you the time off,” he says as he parks.

“I’ll keep that in mind,” you reach for the door handle, “oh, and thank you so much for the ride. I really owe you one.”

Dr. Wells makes a mental note about cashing in that favor later. “You just stay safe and enjoy yourself tonight.” He smiles warmly at you as you wave goodbye, but when the door shuts, his grin turns a bit darker. He watches you walk away, eyes tracing the curve of your figure, resting on the beautiful shape of your rear, right up until you disappear into your building.

As he begins to drive away, he catches sight of himself in the rearview mirror. There is something about this form of his that seems to drive the ladies crazy, and he wasn’t opposed to taking advantage of that. While pulling back into the street and driving away, he thinks on his situation.

For 13 years now, Eobard Thawne has been trapped in this god-forsaken time period. For a while, he had focused solely on his mission, rarely interacting with others unless it served a greater purpose. But he was still a man, subject to desire. At first, it was almost enough to make him regret allowing Harrison Well’s wife to die, she could have filled his needs easily. But that woman had been intelligent; she’d have discovered his identity eventually, so allowing her to die had been for the best.

Still, after a few years of isolation, Thawne had found the need unbearable and began seeing ways to fill the hole that was forming in his chest. Little flings, one-off nights where he indulged his carnal side, allowed himself the pleasure of another’s body before quickly parting ways with them, when he discovered that a fanclub devoted to him had been formed amongst his employees, that made the whole thing easier.

Joining the group chat under a false name was easy enough. It inflated his ego every time he read them discussing how great they thought he looked, and he was more than happy to provide material for them to gush over. And with that, it was like he had been given a list of women who would fuck him with no questions asked. All he had to do was choose. Of course, he has to be wary of those who might get too clingy or go off telling other people. But it’s not that hard to week those types out of the pack.

Thawne notices magenta neon as he’s driving. A club with a grand opening sign out front. He smiles, knowing that now not only does he have a new prey lure in, but the perfect hunting ground as well.

#eowells x reader #eowells fanfiction #harrison wells x reader #harrison wells fanfiction #eowells #harrison wells #jade writes

[keijisprettygirl]

☁︎︎ don’t be shy ~

bestfriend! Miya Atsumu x fem! reader

Summary: you were only messing with him but he saw this as an opportunity to finally shoot his shot.

a/n: TBH IDK HOW I THOUGHT OF THIS

Another cloudy night rolls in, covering the last of the gloaming sky as if the blackness failed to come fast enough. Those balls of cotton seen during the day shifted into streams of gray the color of ash and soot, indicating that heavy rain is expected sooner than later.

“Hurricane katrina?” You sighed and pushed yourself up from the hammock where you laid comfortably, lazily dragging your feet to head back inside the house to check up on the two idiots hanging about inside.

“Yo Osamu? Atsumu?” You holler, pulling the screen door wide open and cringing at the loud creak it made. Taking a mental note to remind the twins on getting that fixed asap. Osamu’s ears perked up at the sound of your voice calling his name, thus revealing himself, coming out of the bathroom with a soft drink in hand.“yeah?” He replies nonchalantly.

“Hey you, where's Atsumu?”

He shrugs his shoulders as he takes a chug of his coke, back leaning against the kitchen counter. You were about to mention that he should consider getting that screen door fixed when it suddenly creaked open, making you cringe once again and the sound of Atsumu’s booming voice beamed behind you.

“oh there yer are, was looking all over for ya!!” You turn your head slightly to the side to look at the tall male whilst he wraps both his arms around your frame from behind in a strong but comfortable hold. You sigh in comfort as you tilt your head back to rest against his chest.

“What were you doing outside?”

“I told ya, i was out looking for ya?” The blond replies as he squeezes you hard in his arms, making you groan and hastily slap his arm in annoyance at the sudden lack of air but his hold on you loosens slightly.

“I was literally just out there on the hammock? Have you been outside this whole time?” You question him with raised brows. Did he not see you laying in the hammock?

“What? How long have yer been out there?” His own brows furrowed in confusion on how he completely missed your figure laying in the hammock. The place where you considered your main space because it's your favourite spot. If not one of the twins has spotted you anywhere inside of the house, then the first place you’d definitely be at is on that hammock.

“Cmon ‘Sumu, she practically lives on it. I might have to start charging yer for rent Y/n” Osamu chuckles at his own joke. With a roll of your eyes, you poke your tongue out at him childishly and he repeats the action.

Turning around to face Atsumu, “I’m actually surprised I didn’t catch you coming out of the house with those loud ass horse like feet of yours” You tease, trying to hold back a giggle but you end up snorting when you hear Osamu’s ugly cackle from where he stood as if it was the funniest thing you’ve said yet.

“She practically just said that you have disgusting horse hooves”

“Ha ha very funny” your bestfriend rolls his eyes, a pink hue dusting his cheeks. He pecks your cheek and removes himself from you, much to your dismay.

But before the blond moves any further you say, “Don’t be shy, kiss me on the lips” ending the sentence with a cheeky wink.

The flirty remark that passed your lips didn’t surprise Osamu, for he was already used to this. You and his twin brother have always been this way. flirty, clingy, and annoyingly affectionate. The friendship you have with Atsumu had you suffering from all the sexual tension and you’re sure it’s lowkey killing him too.

Well you hoped it was affecting him just as much as it was affecting you.

What surprised you though, was the sudden mop of terribly dyed locks interfering with your line of vision as a pair of chapped-soft lips planted on yours all of a sudden.

Atsumu pulls away just as fast as it happened, grinning from ear to ear and proceeds to march towards his bedroom like whatever he just did was a normal day to day thing y’all do. Osamu’s mouth is slack, eyes wide in shock and admiration at what he just witnessed. Proud that his brother had finally gained the balls to kiss you.

No words were shared between you and Osamu as you were just standing there with a dumbstruck expression decorating your pretty face. You were obviously left speechless and your heart was beating rapidly against your chest, brain all loopy. No thoughts, head empty.

“bitch what the fu—“

© 2021 athenarosaline. do not repost or claim as yours.

#[📝] — athena’s novelette #haikyuu fluff #haikyuu x reader #miya osamu #miya atsumu x reader #miya atsumu fluff #fluff #miya atsumu x female reader #haikyuu oneshot

[galactic-magick]

Too Bad: Remus x Reader

Request: Can you do 21 and 33 for Remus? Maybe he's been feeling down lately and haven't come out of his room. The reader tries to figure out why Remus is so down. Like maybe he likes reader but doesn't feel like he is worth to be loved

Summary: You assure Remus that you still like him despite who he is, and you have some fun together.

Words: 1000+                                            

Warnings: some suggestive stuff, typical Remus chaos

Author’s Notes: My first fic since my hiatus! I’m a bit rusty but I hope you like this anon!

Taglist: @luluwinchester​ @nerve-ous-love​ @zarieslayer​ @amayaisokay​

-                                

-

-

Remus hasn’t been himself the last few days, and it’s starting to weird you out. He barely comes out of his room, and when he does he’s not nearly as gross and unpredictable. He hasn’t pulled any pranks, hasn’t dug through the trash, and has only made three sex jokes (that’s not a lot for him). There’s definitely something wrong, and you want to find out what it is.

“Remus?” you call, knocking on the door. “Is it okay if I come in?”

He doesn’t respond, but you’re sure he knows it’s you and there’s very little you haven’t already walked in on him doing, so you open the door.

You never thought you’d ever see him this defeated. The magic from his eyes is all gone, and the endearing grin he usually greets you with is nowhere to be found. You’re not really sure what to do or say. Do you crack a joke? Offer to run something over with a truck? Bully Roman?

“You don’t have to stay,” he croaks. “I’ll be back to my normal self soon, not that the other sides would want that…”

“Oh come on, Remus, you know they’ve been working hard to come around,” you smile. “Besides, I’ll always hang around you no matter what,”

“You don’t have to pretend to like me, I know no one really does,”

“I do, Remus. I do,” you huff. You can’t believe he actually thinks you don’t care about him. “Who was always there for you when Janus and the others were trying to hide you? Oh yeah, it was me,”

“But-“

“You really think I would’ve been your best friend all these years if I hated you?”

There’s silence for a moment.

“Why do you make me feel this way?” he mumbles, half hoping you won’t hear.

“What do you mean?”

“You deserve better than me. I’m not worthy of being loved. But it would break me if you ever left,”

“Remus, you’re talking even more nonsense than normal,” you grab his hand. “Come on, let’s go do something to get your mind of it. We could try that sponge cake recipe with moldy sponges in it? OH- and Roman just built a new castle in the mindscape, we could go burn it down? Oh and did you hear about-“

“Y/N, no,” he cuts you off. “Don’t you get it? You shouldn’t be like this. I made you like this. I’ve corrupted you,”

“It’s not your fault I like a lot of your crazy ideas,”

“Yes, it is. Being the monster in the back of Thomas’s mind is my job, not yours. I can’t handle it anymore, knowing my feelings for you have probably ruined you forever,”

“You have feelings for me?”

“It doesn’t matter anyway, I’ve been trying to get rid of them,”

“I- Why would you-“ he can’t even look into your eyes. “Remus, you don’t even sound like yourself. When have you ever cared about what things you want and feel? You’ve never tried to restrict them before,”

“I suppose…”

“And for what, you think it’s your fault I like you? I mean I guess I can’t really refute that,”

He chuckles, “I am pretty smoking hot,”

“Exactly. Now quit moping around and come ruin someone’s day with me,” you pull him up off his bed and run out the door before he can object. “So what do you want to do?”

“I liked the moldy sponges idea,” he smirks.

You get to work immediately. You do your best to make the cake look like an actual cake in order to trick the other sides and adding a bunch of spices and flavors to cover up the smell. Remus slowly starts to act like his normal self again, making ridiculous suggestions and disgusting jokes every other minute. He’s finally having fun, and it’s even better that it’s with you.

You call in the sides when it’s done, cutting up some slices and giving one to each of them. Remus hides in the fridge, otherwise they’d never eat it if they knew he was involved.

“Don’t you want some, Logan?” you ask after he pushes the plate away.

“No thank you. Far too unhealthy,”

“Says the guy who practically drank an entire jar of Crofter’s this morning,” Janus sneers.

“That’s entirely different!”

Patton cringes a bit, “Um, what flavor is this, Y/N?”

“Cinnamon swirl, chocolate, oh, and moldy sponges,”

Everyone spits it out.

“How dare you convince me to eat this garbage!” Roman screeches.

Remus comes into the room maniacally laughing.

“Ah, of course it was your idea,”

“Actually it wasn’t, but I did add a few details,”

They all leave the room fuming and nauseous.

“Too bad we couldn’t fool Logan, we almost got all of them,” you sigh, gazing at the untouched slice.

“Don’t worry, I’ve got another idea to embarrass him,” he winks.

 -

 A few hours later when everyone’s sitting in the living room, Remus runs in holding one of Logan’s ties.

“Hey Logan, you left this in my room,” Remus cackles.

“Preposterous. I keep all my clothes incredibly organized, there’s no way it would ever come into your possession,”

“Interesting, then why was it on my floor?”

Your hand flies to your mouth, trying to muffle your laugh.

“Logan- were you- what were you- with my brother?” Roman stammers.

“I assure you he’s lying,” Logan continues attempting to brush it off.

“Lying in my bed!” Remus wheezes, and you finally lose it.

Janus rolls his eyes, “Will you two shut up, lying jokes are my thing,”

Remus throws the tie at Logan, “Feel free to drop by again sometime, teach,”

Logan’s face flushes red and you chase after Remus back into his room and slam the door. You both burst out laughing, so hard you’re rolling on the floor and can barely catch your breath.

“Feel better now?”

“I do,” he grins.

“Don’t you dare ever get that boring again, you hear me?”

He steals a kiss from your lips, “Never.”

#remus sanders x reader #remus sanders #sanders sides x reader #sanders sides #ts remus

[karlnapity]

Deviltown is Colder in the Summertime

Chapter 1: I Still Get a Little Scared of Something New

(tws: manipulation, alcohol/drug use)

Tommy isn’t quite sure what he expected from the afterlife.

Jack never said much about it. Tommy knew he’d come back, but any time Tommy mentioned it Jack would immediately shift the subject, clutch his jacket tighter, transition to laughing about it and flick his gaze away in the exact same way Tommy does, so they’ve never talked about it. He’s only ever mentioned it as hell, but Tommy always tried to tell himself <i>he</i> wouldn’t end up in hell, even if he didn’t know what other options there were.

But Wilbur said he was happy there, so it couldn’t be too bad, right?

>

He opens his eyes and sees nothing, at first. He’s still hurting, head pounding and ribs aching in time with his heartbeat, but it’s faded, just a bit of buzz in the background, and he can push it aside in favor of figuring out where the fuck he is.

He looks around. It’s a train station, but everything seems so strange, so slightly off. everything seems bathed in reds and grays, like a filter on his vision. He finds himself sitting on a bench, and with a sigh he heaves himself off it, starts to move.

It seems empty, and as he’s going he picks up what seems to be a beer can, throws it down and kicks it along as he’s walking. He climbs a staircase and just finds another set of trains hurtling by.

He hears a breath behind him and whirls around to find nothing. He tenses.

“Tommy?”

Oh. He tries, desperately, to stop himself from tearing up. It’s not much help.

He turns, and there he is.

Wilbur looks the same as when he died; same coat, same bloodstain, same expression. He stretches out his arms, and Tommy barrels into them, is enveloped in a hug he hadn’t thought he’d feel again for a long, long time.

“Oh, Tommy,” Wilbur whispers, and Tommy wails. They sink to the floor, Wilbur's coat draping around them both.

>

Tommy’s not sure how long they stay like that, on the floor, but when they climb to their feet Wilbur gives him a smile and leads him onto the train. Once in, they climb between cars, though he seems to know where they’re going.

It’s only a matter of time until Tommy starts asking questions.

“Where are we going?”

“To see the others,” Wilbur answers as they walk, not looking back.

He’d nearly forgotten.

Schlatt. Mexican Dream.

He wonders what they’ll be like. Will Mexican Dream be the same? will Schlatt be the same?

He debates asking, but he still can’t get the memory of maniacal speeches and let’s be the villains out of his head, and he still can’t even be sure whether he can trust Wilbur.

He wants to. He wants his brother back, and so far he seems close enough to the Wilbur he knew, but the outfit brings back things he doesn’t quite want to remember.

He shivers.

Once he pulls himself out of his head, he can hear, faintly, a voice in the distance. Wilbur lets out a laugh in triumph as he flings open the final door.

“Schlatt!” he exclaims, and Tommy's faced with a man he’d honestly hoped he’d never see again.

Schlatt, for his part, looks exactly the same, too. Same disheveled shirt, missing tie. Same bloodstain dripping from the corner of his mouth and same unkempt hair and horns.

Same bottle in his hand.

Tommy had really, really hoped there wouldn’t be substances in the afterlife.

Schlatt drops the book he was holding on the train seat and stands, locking eyes with Tommy.

“What the fuck,” he exclaims. “How the fuck did that happen?”

“Tommy?” another voice calls, and Mexican Dream’s in front of him, inspecting him all over and prodding at his injuries. “What the hell happened to you, man?”

“Uh,” Tommy says, unsure with all the attention. He backs up, a bit, hitting Wilbur, and Wilbur leads him a seat and sits him down.

“Take your time,” he says, effectively shutting down the other two. “You just died, after all.”

Tommy chuckles ruefully, waving him off. “It’s ok.”

He turns to the others. “It was Dream.”

Schlatt’s eyes widen, just a little, and he continues.

“He fucking beat me to death in prison.” He tries very hard not to think too much about it.

“Why were you in prison?” Wilbur asks tentatively, but Tommy can still parse the interest in his voice.

“I went to visit him, and there was this explosion outside. And Sam said he couldn’t let me out because it was against protocol, or some shit. So I just had to stay in there, and Dream got angry.”

Wilbur’s expression pinches. “What a dick.”

Tommy can’t tell whether he means Sam or Dream, or what he’s supposed to say, but luckily Schlatt interrupts.

“Well, welcome to hell, kid,” he says, waving around the train car and spilling the bottle in his hand. He doesn’t seem to realize. “An infinite trip to fucking nowhere.”

“Well, we don’t know that,” Wilbur says pleasantly. “We could still be heading to our salvation.”

“I’ve put up with your shit too long for this to be a fucking trip to salvation,” Schlatt mutters, takes another swig.

He fixes Tommy in the eye, gaze surprisingly clear. “How long have we been here?”

“Um… four months? Maybe?”

Schlatt lets out a triumphant laugh that turns into a cough. “I fucking knew. I fucking told you.”

“Time moves differently, here,” Mexican Dream explains. Wilbur cuts him off.

“It’s been around eight years,” Wilbur continues.

“Eight years, nine months, eleven days,” Schlatt rattles off exhaustedly. He heaves himself to his feet and looks to Mexican Dream, who stands to follow him.

Wilbur looks incensed, stands.

“You’re gonna go get fucking high when he’s just died?” he demands.

“Oh, fuck off,” schlatt spits, and they leave. Mexican Dream waves at Tommy before the door shuts behind them, and Tommy returns it.

Wilbur seems to wilt.

“I’m sorry about them, Tommy,” he says quietly, confidentially. “They haven’t changed all that much.”

Tommy looks to the door. He almost wants to go after them, wants to see how they’re doing, but he has to catch up with Wilbur first.

“What’s it been like?” he asks, and Wilbur sighs, gestures vaguely to the door.

“Just this. They haven’t much slowed down.” He lowers his voice. “Think Schlatt’s been hitting the hard stuff again.”

Tommy bites his lip. He clenches his fists in his lap, realizing he’s still shaking. Wilbur notices, clasps his hand over them, and Tommy melts again, lets Wilbur wrap his arms around him.

“I missed you so much,” Wilbur whispers. “I wish we hadn’t met like this, not this soon, but all the same, I’m kind of glad. Is that wrong?”

Tommy shakes his head against Wilbur's shoulder. He smells the same, a mixture of smoke and pine, and he can’t believe how much he missed his brother. He clings onto Wilbur's coat the same way he did when they were first in Pogtopia, when Tommy would have nightmares about their exile.

He can’t believe he ever thought Wilbur would still be awful.

>

He doesn’t see either Schlatt or Mexican Dream for a couple days after that, mostly sticking by Wilbur's side. It’s when he ventures a couple cars, has to clear his head from the smoke of Wilbur's cigarettes, that he finds them again.

He’s just closed the door, making sure to seal it against the smell, and he turns, walks right into Schlatt.

He stumbles back, and hears the distinct sound of a bottle shattering and a “fuck!”, cringes.

“I’m so sorry,” he stammers quickly, old habits dying slowly, but Schlatt just sighs, waves him off. His hand’s shaking, badly.

“It’s fine, whatever, I’ll just get another one,” he says. Tommy peers at the carpet, nose crinkling at the smell.

Oh. That’s not booze. Wilbur was right.

“Where the fuck did you get potions?” he asks, and Schlatt shrugs.

“They’re around here.” He catches Tommy's eye, narrows his own. “You’re not looking for them, right?”

“What?” he stammers, chuckles. “Fucking obviously not. I’m very much a child, you know.”

Schlatt throws back his head, laughs. “Good. I was younger than you.”

He waves Tommy along, and they start walking. He’s stumbling, just a bit, and Tommy has to keep catching his arm to stop him from falling, but it doesn’t seem to bother him.

“That’s not something to be proud of,” he says, and Schlatt grins, but there’s nothing happy about it.

“I know, I know. I started then, and look where it fucking got me.” He gestures at the train car.

He stops. “I mean, I guess you’re here too.”

“Those are very different things,” Tommy says indignantly. “You fucking died ‘cause of it.”

Schlatt finds the cabinet he was looking for, pulls out another bottle. “well, I can’t fucking die twice.”

He crashes in a dining booth, and Tommy sits across from him.

“You know, some people might see it as a wake-up call, dying from this shit.”

Schlatt chuckles.

“If it’s hard to quit while you’re alive-” He stops to take a swig. “It’s harder when you’re dead. You get allll the rewards, and none of the hard parts.”

He counts off on his fingers. “You don’t have to deal with withdrawal, you don’t have to deal with Quackity yelling your head off.”

He leans forward, whispers conspiratorily. Tommy can smell the blaze powder on his breath. “And you don’t have to listen to Wilbur being fucking batshit.”

Tommy frowns, and Schlatt grins.

“But you don’t know about that, right? You think he’s all magically right in the head again? No fucking way. You think he gets to escape from being a fucking piece of shit, you think he gets to come to his senses? Nope, nope.” He throws his head back, cackles. Tommy suddenly feels very strongly like he wants to leave this conversation. He doesn’t want to listen to this.

“Wilbur's my brother,” he snaps. “I think I’d know if he was acting weird.” Schlatt’s voice has gone near hysterical. He’s slurring to the point where Tommy has to focus on his words if he wants to understand. “No, no, you don’t get to tell me that. You don’t get to appear here and tell me you know everything. I’ve been here, I’ve dealt with him for eight fucking years, I know what he’s like and I know he’s a fucked up asshole with a god complex. You don’t get to tell me what he’s like, you don’t know him.”

“And you do?” Tommy snaps.

“Maybe not. But the cracks’ll show soon, ok? Ok?” He leans back in the booth, covers his face with his hands. Tommy waits for him to say something more but after a few seconds, he puts his head down on the table, rests it on an arm.

His eyelids flutter, eyes rolling back. “I’m not your enemy, Tommy.”

Tommy sighs, plucks the bottle from his hand. He’s already passed out.

#personal #tommyinnit #jschlatt #wilbur soot #villain wilbur #mexican dream #dreamwastaken #dream smp #dsmp #mcyt

[tempesrature]

Of The Standard Of Taste: Logan and Memes

Pairing: Ride or Die | Ellie x Logan Summary: Logan has a terrible taste in memes and Ellie wants to help him.  (A very loose continuation of Communication Degree. But if you don’t want to read that, all you need to know is Ellie and Logan live together and Ellie has a Professor that she hates.) Word Count: 1,924 Warnings: None. Just the buffoonery that I come up with. This is terrible and self-indulgent because I just want some stupid domestic fluff for my two idiots.    A/N: I feel like Logan’s relevant character flaw has to be that he’s probably not too knowledgeable with pop culture and memes (on the run most of his life, has no real need for it, etc) so...here you go. I also reread Hume’s “Of The Standard of Taste” just in case I get into a tussle with Philosophy nerds over my usage of the title (you can fight me but I’ll lose, I didn’t understand much). Also, please forgive me for my poor editing, I may be a millennial but I run on boomer batteries. Happy RoDAW everyone!  @rodappreciationweek @troublemakerinspace​ ~*~

In the silent space of the Langston library, Ellie’s phone pings on her desk and her eyes flit to the device. The name on her screen immediately pulls a wide smile on her lips as she picks up the phone and checks to see what he has sent her. Once she sees the picture, her face falls and she immediately groans before she puts the phone back on her desk.

“Woah, bad news?”

Ellie turns to look at Brooke, her friend and partner for the paper they’re currently working on, before Ellie shakes her head with a small sigh.

“It’s Logan.”

Brooke furrows her eyebrows, squinting lightly at Ellie. “And that’s bad because…?”

Ellie sighs before she picks up her phone and hands it to Brooke. Brooke raises a curious eyebrow before she takes the phone and looks at the screen. Her face morphs into a string of emotions—shock, laughter, cringe—before it settles into pity. “The boy’s taste in memes are terrible.”

“It’s not his fault,” Ellie quickly defends, taking the phone back and staring at the picture that Logan sent her.

“It’s his first Pictagram account and he’s still figuring things out,” Ellie explains as she gives his picture a heart. “You know, developing his standard of taste.”

“From what? The 2010’s?” Brooke cackles as she takes Ellie’s phone, scrolling up their conversation before she bursts into muffled chuckles. “Look at your replies! ‘That’s great baby, it’s really funny’, you sound like his mom!”

Ellie scowls and snatches back her phone, putting it face down on the desk. “He’s trying okay? I think it’s sweet that he sends me memes he finds funny.”

“Uh huh, keep telling yourself that,” Brooke snickers before she rolls her eyes at the annoyed look on Ellie’s face. “El, just like…send him better memes. It’s not that hard.”

“I tried!” Ellie groans again, pushing her fingers to her temple as she stares at the wooden surface of the desk in dismay. “But memes nowadays need so much context! How will he understand when he’s still catching up on so much of pop culture—” Ellie pauses, an idea swirling in her mind. “Unless…”

“Unless what?” Brooke frowns, furrowing her eyebrows. She is scarily aware of Ellie’s face when she starts to plot. “Unless what El?”

“I have an idea,” Ellie declares, quickly gathering her things and dumping them into her backpack as she grabs her phone off of the table. “I’ll send you my part tonight, bye!”

Ellie quickly throws a wave goodbye at the confused looking Brooke as she heads back to the apartment before Logan arrives. Her mind already turning and plotting on how she’ll efficiently enact her plan.

~*~

Logan carefully balances the bag of groceries in one arm as he walks up the stairs, his eyes glued to his phone. He knows he should be more careful, Ellie has already chastised him about using his phone while walking up the stairs to their apartment, but he finds it difficult to pull his eyes away from the endless scroll of memes on his Pictagram feed. Many of which he’s already saved because he plans to send them to Ellie sometime tomorrow during his break.

Logan gives one last double tap of his phone screen to a particularly funny meme when he reaches the door of their apartment before he places his phone in his back pocket. He moves the grocery bag to his other arm before fishing out his keys and inserting it into the doorknob. He hasn’t even fully opened the door when he hears Ellie calling out his name from the living room. A smile pulls at his lips at the sound. Even if it’s been months, he still can’t shake the feeling of utter content at the reality of her waiting for him in their apartment. A scenario he’s only ever imagined in his most indulgent dreams.

“Just a sec trouble. I’m taking off my shoes,” He calls out toeing his sneakers off and kicking it to the side before he walks to the living room with a wide grin. Ellie excitedly greets him with a hug and he easily returns it with a one arm hug.

“Welcome back,” She greets, leaning up to kiss his cheek before she takes the grocery bag in his arm and whisks it away to the small kitchenette in their apartment.

Logan follows behind her, the wide grin still present on his face, as he leans on the refrigerator. He silently watches her place the bag on the counter, start to pull out the groceries and flit by cabinets and shelves to put away the cans and bottles. His heart feels full and sated, the picture of her seeming to bring about emotions that’s both strange and welcomed. Strange in a way that he never thought that this could be his life and welcomed in way that he’s grateful that this is his life.

Ellie pulls out the carton of milk and turns to him, grinning in amusement at the soft and warm look so prominent on his face. An expression she’s seen on him a multitude of times in the time they’ve started living together. She quickly shoos him away from the refrigerator door and Logan merely chuckles as he moves away, placing a passing kiss to her temple before he makes his way to the living room.

His eyes immediately latch on to the papers and books scattered on the coffee table (not an unusual sight) as her laptop lay on the center of the couch. He gently pushes the laptop to the side, careful not to accidentally move anything from its original place as he drops down on the couch and pulls out his phone.

“Are you making another report for Professor Hardass, El?” Logan calls out, absentmindedly scrolling through his Pictagram feed.

“Huh? Oh…no. Actually,” Ellie answers back before she walks back into the living room. She grabs her laptop, balancing it on one hand, as she scrolls up and starts the presentation. “It’s for you.”

Logan pauses before he looks up at her in confusion, his eyebrows furrowed. 

“Me?”

“Yes,” Ellie plops down next to him and sets her laptop on his lap, angling the screen to him as the title ‘Important Points in the History of Pop Culture and its Relevance on Memes’ flashes in big black text and stares back at him.

Logan blinks once, twice. His brain frying as he tries to decipher what she just presented him. “I don’t understand Ellie.”

Ellie nods, expecting this reaction before she clears her throat. Her voice takes on the tone she always uses when she presents her reports as she starts the plan that she has been preparing for since she arrived in the apartment three hours ago.

“You see Logan, I love you and I care about you a lot—”

“—this sounds like a break up speech.”

“And,” Ellie emphasizes with a grin, lightly hitting his arm as he looks back at her with a teasing smile. “And I want you to get a better sense of what memes are popular and funny right now.”

Logan opens his mouth, closes it and frowns. Finally picking up what she’s hinting on. “The memes I send you aren’t funny?”

“Oh baby they are,” She leans forward, placing gentle hand on his arm as she tries to keep her voice loving and sympathetic when she delivers the devastating truth. “But like…funny if its ten years ago.”

Logan blinks, pausing for a moment, before a burst of laughter escapes him. Ellie frowns at his reaction and he shakes his head, turning away from her as he muffles his laughter behind his hand. He really didn’t mean to laugh. But the image of his girlfriend, the love of his life, hunkering down and taking a considerable amount of her time and day just to create a presentation to teach him about memes of all things creates a feeling inside him that he’s never felt before.

In his most vulnerable and loneliest nights, he went through a list of the most domestic and romantic what-ifs with her—already resigned that they would never be his reality—that ranged from the simple to the ridiculous but sitting down on the couch of their apartment learning about memes through a PowerPoint presentation from her was something that never crossed his mind.

But somehow, this is the one that hits him the hardest. This is the one that makes him imagine a life beyond their tiny apartment. A house, a dog, kids’ maybe…all of it. If it’s with Ellie Wheeler, he’s ready to want it all.

“Okay troublemaker,” He finally says, turning back to her with a wide grin. “Or should I call you professor now?”

“Behave,” She admonishes playfully before she scoots closer to him and lays her head on his shoulder. He easily wraps one arm around her waist, his hand settling on her hips as he leans his head on top of hers and waits patiently for her presentation.

Ellie immediately launches into her first slide and Logan listens intently, his thumb absentmindedly rubbing nonsense circles on her skin over her pajamas.

As the minutes pass, it leaves him in awe at how much effort and love has gone into this presentation just for him. There are pictures, gifs, and videos all for him and he’s willing to admit that his feed seems to pale in comparison. She goes through the resilience of SpongeBob memes and the “rickroll”, the diversity of Kermit the frog memes, and the brief and fleeting existence of Vine memes. And she laughs and cringes at the particularly older ones and he laughs and takes note at the particularly funny ones as the late afternoon slowly stretches into evening.

By the end of it, she’s cuddled up next to him, her laptop laying open on top of her books on the coffee table, as they both scroll through a better array of pages for him to follow on Pictagram to broaden and expand his taste of memes. They laugh, talk, and tease each other under the dim lights of their tiny apartment and Logan can’t help but feel the kind of warmth and happiness that settle and seep right down to his bones.

~*~

Brooke bursts out in laughter but quickly clamps her mouth shut to avoid disturbing the other students in the library. “I can’t believe you did that! You gotta give me the file!”

Ellie smiles in triumph, crossing her arms in front of her as she leans back on her chair. “Laugh all you want. If it worked then I’m the real winner here.”

Brooke shakes her head in amusement, looking at Ellie with a teasing look. “If? So you haven’t seen the results yet?”

Ellie opens her mouth, ready to reply, when right on cue her phone pings on the desk next to her books. She picks it up when she sees the flash of his name on the screen and she smiles. Her eyes land on the latest picture he’s sent her, her heart squeezing in an ache so powerful she clutches the phone to her chest as she falls forward on the desk with a helpless groan and a silly smile. Brooke sees her reaction and chuckles before she reaches out her hand.

“Give me, I wanna see too.”

Ellie hands the phone to her and Brooke’s eyes land on the picture and she grimaces.

“Now he’s just being cheesy,” Brooke comments dryly.

“He’s too good,” Ellie laments helplessly, lifting her head off of the table with a huge grin. “I made him too powerful.”

Brooke rolls her eyes as she hands Ellie her phone back. “Can we please just finish this paper today?”

“Fine, fine,” Ellie takes her phone back and quickly types out a message and finds a photo before she hits send. She places the phone back on the desk and goes back to working on her part of the paper with a smile she can’t seem to wipe away even if she tried.

#rodaw #rod #logan x mc #logan x ellie #i wont sit on my high horse and mock logan #because i too unironically loved these memes in the past #choices rod #my writing

[anangelicday-mrwolf]

Wolfsbane : Noblesse Fanfic  (post-ending)

(previous chapter)

Chapter 51 – Nightmare Walking

Hair originally flaunting glamorous gold now stricken dark purple.

Bare torso marred with purple just as dark.

Atmosphere oh-so-ferocious, ridding the bystanders of any desire to approach, the operative part being the fact that it is from someone who is merely standing with his back visible.

And the building completely tattered into crumbles, an influential addition that renders the entire scene as intimidating as it can be.

Nobody would have stayed standing upon the immediate sight of the isle.

But it was Lunark who was at the scene.

“Frankenstein!”

Her voice even hinted elation as she lunged forward, screeching her sweetheart’s name.

She had been steeling herself for the worst-case scenario – Frankenstein’s death via 3rd Elder’s hand – throughout her marine marathon.

And here she was, confirming how he was at least on his feet, a reason legitimate enough for her to place her emotions above her logics that were suggesting she should first get a picture of what happened here.

Despite her ardent glee that matched that of a wife welcoming a husband back from the war, her body halted when her audience turned around.

There was still a distance between them, but the smile that had bloomed across her countenance froze in awkward distortion.

Her facial muscles were reformed in a violent speed when the lean figure wholly faced her, into those that someone would wear upon running into their parents’ killer.

“...What are you? Don’t even think about playing tricks with your tongue. You’re not Frankenstein. I can tell that you’re not.”

The man looked no different from the time when 1st Elder and 3rd Elder invaded werewolf realm. And from the time when she had met Frankenstein for very first time.

He looked exactly what he looks like whenever he deliberately forfeits the control over the Dark Spear.

Nevertheless, Lunark noticed something has changed, for a reason she could not define herself, the closest excuse being an instinct that would allow a mother bird to recognize her offspring among thousands of fluffy chicks.

With all circumstances put behind, Lunark did not hesitate to sharpen her eyes and lips with belligerence.

“What have you done to Frankenstein?”

That was when her party ended the long silence.

“We did nothing. He brought this on himself.”

We?

Just as I’d thought, the Dark Spear took over his body.

That was one mystery gone, but to Lunark it was simply checking the answer she had on her mind as correct. In other words, the weight in her chest has not been lifted at all.

In fact, the Dark Spear’s claim that Frankenstein was to blame for this added fuel to the concern blazing within her.

“What are you talking about? There’s no way Frankenstein would let this happen.”

“We are just as clueless of the exact reason why. Frankenstein chugged this tonic he’d have more often than water, just like a drug addict doing drug. And this is how things ended up.”

Lunark realized what was the tonic the Dark Spear was mentioning; it must be what Frankenstein had in his silver flask, which she witnessed upon her first visit to this island.

“Not convincing. Frankenstein is more thorough than any other creature I know, especially when it comes to research. He will never make any mistake in managing his own invention. What did you do to him?”

“We can’t deny that we have lots of problem with this world and this guy in particular, but we never lie. When Frankenstein returned from your domain, he briefly talked to that 3rd Elder guy, before he downed the whole cup of the tonic he made in his lab in advance.”

Upon mention of 3rd Elder, Lunark momentarily minced her lips, her rage reminding her that it was still there.

“And then he complained of mind-numbing vertigo, until he fell unconscious like a TV unplugged. At the same time, the iron-hard control he has been maintaining at last broke down.”

From Dark Spear’s mouth slipped a low snicker.

Lunark was now familiar with Frankenstein’s unique devilish laughter, but she has never heard such unpleasant, loathsome laugh.

She felt as if she were witnessing the declaration of war from a devil – no, from disaster itself.

“We have no idea how, but both his body and mind fell into slumber! And now we have full control of his flesh and bones!”

The Dark Spear raised Frankenstein’s head high, and maniacal cackle erupted from his throat; and it raised Frankenstein’s arms and looked around as if showing off what it had done.

“And as you can see, we were free to experiment what we can do. Although we couldn’t get a chance to gain experience from Frankenstein’s roommate. How unfortunate. Perhaps he foresaw that something wicked is coming his way; by the time we could walk around on our own, he was nowhere to be seen.”

At then Lunark’s stony face was struck by thousand chasms.

‘I knew it – he’s behind all this. And he scrammed after flinging a lit match into a barrel of gasoline. I will so not let him get away with this!’

To Lunark’s grimace, she was not given time to plot exactly how she can best beat the guts out of him.

The Dark Spear pointed its hideous crimson eyes, which used to be the most beautiful topaz blue in the world, at the werewolf warrior.

“But look what we have here – a new lab rat that visited on its own feet to substitute him!”

Lunark’s jaw muscles thundered with strain as soon as she processed how things were going.

By now she was supposed to race across the ocean in search of 3rd Elder; alas, she knew there was no way she could walk away from this scene. Instantly she stiffened from head to toe, to go ahead and step backwards.

The Dark Spear crooked the either side of its lips at her response.

“Speaking of which, it’s such a shame that Frankenstein fell in death-like slumber. We’ll miss our chance to make him watch how he will crush his lady by his own hands.”

Lunark happened to be calculating and measuring every option available to break free from her immediate position, hopefully escape unscathed, but Dark Spear’s statement made her brain freeze.

“...What are you saying?”

Asked Lunark in a flustered, desperate, pleading voice, something that should not be pulled out as of now.

Her heart decided to be selfish and outrun her logics.

“Oh? So you had no idea that this guy had feelings for you. Ugh, that reminds us of all those goosebumps we had to suffer. You can’t imagine how much agony and anguish he had assigned himself, weighing for millions of times his affection for you against his duty-slash-standing. And he just had to be a drama queen in the meantime; we were beyond cringed to observe him.”

The enlightenment, thanks to the courtesy of Dark Spear, hit Lunark’s head hard, already half-ridden of its functions, like a lash of a whip upon a skinned body.

‘Frankenstein has feelings for me...?’

Several centuries ago, during a pleasant afternoon outing as a child, her mother discussed how she got to be mates with her daughter’s father.

And she told Lunark that to feel love was to feel how the color of blood paints the heart, of which its color in turn paints one’s vision, which ultimately dyes the world.

Back then Lunark, being an innocent little girl she was, retorted if that means love would make her see the world in red, after the color of her own blood.

Her mother roared with laughter and told her that one day she will understand.

And right now, with her life in undeniable jeopardy, Lunark finally understood what her mother meant.

Her blood and heart and vision were bathed white, like crystal-colored feathers, magically glossing the after-war-like scene into snow white.

Sadly, her ecstasy did not long due to what was about to unfold.

“Anyhow, now it’s time to see how much of despair we can give to a living!”

The Dark Spear spread its palm out wide in a swaggering manner, towards Lunark.

Registering what will promptly follow, Lunark kicked off without thinking.

Bam!!!

Splinters of rocks and dust flew about from the spot Lunark was posted to a mere second ago.

The Dark Spear flung dark purple balls of energy towards the werewolf warrior scurrying here and there in evasion, and each and every last one of Lunark’s teeth ground brutally.

Not long after, Lunark emitted enraged shriek and attempted a counterattack.

“Give him back right now, you bastard!”

Lunark’s fist speared through the air, precisely towards where she wanted.

She had yet to shift into battle form, but she was a werewolf. A race with no superior when it comes to physical strength, and she even came with a proud title of a warrior.

Just when her punch was to do what it was supposed to do, Frankenstein’s eyes were cleared of blood-red haze, to instead pay Lunark a blue gaze buried beneath.

It was too brief to be dubbed a split second, but Lunark’s movement automatically ceased.

And hesitation on a battlefield is bound to end as a fatal error.

“Aaargh!!!”

Dozens of hellish darkness and sharpness pierced through Lunark’s every corporal plane and curve.

She was basically a breathing insect specimen, made immobile in midst of a forest of dark purple spears, too packed to shove even a hand.

“Now this is beyond our expectations.”

The Dark Spear sniggered, swinging the arm it just used to land ruthless blows upon Lunark.

She glared murder at the Dark Spear, as she felt sinister energy spreading throughout her shape through her wounds.

“No need to give us that look. We won’t kill you right now. We had thought of killing Frankenstein’s beloved right on spot, but... Change of plan. We have a better idea.”

Lunark’s heart, captured by anxiety, thumped skittishly within her ribs.

“We’ll be heading to Lukedonia.”

“...What?”

“Frankenstein does have a lot of people he cares for, you included, but his top priority is the Noblesse. Which is not surprising. His greatest fear would be to commit anything that could topple the peace of the Noblesse’s heart. So we would be able to stomp his heart for good if we wreak havoc at the Noblesse’s homeland. After all, physical pain can’t be any more meaningless for him.”

Lunark’s pupils quivered in frenzy, at the sight of an animosity claiming how it will run straight to Lukedonia right now.

“Now excuse us. We have a long way to go. Oh, and it’d be wise not to try anything to get yourself out of there. Thanks to Crombel and pieces of Blood Stone he used to own, our power has more than tripled!”

Leaving behind a sickening smirk, voluptuously sized cloud of dust, and a boom of impact, the slender human frame was gone.

“G-get back here, you...!”

Lunark yelled in alarm; she squirmed in gut reaction, to very soon grunt in pain.

Where she was impaled by dark purple javelins began to release much darker aura.

Of course, she could muster her powers in a flash to destroy all the spears and begin her pursuit.

‘But the Dark Spear is equipped with power that works against healing power, with our endowment of healing power no exception. And the natural-born destructive tendency given to Blood Stone would not leave me unharmed. Which means I’d get to start this battle with a handicap.’

So what?

Are you going to just give up?

It took less than a second for her inner voice to reprimand her, because of which the tremor of her lips was gone.

‘Of course not.’

Lunark shut her eyes for a moment, and the next moment her pink pupils conveyed nothing but determination.

‘Just you wait, Frankenstein. I will save you. Now I know how you feel about me, and though my lord told me to get over you... I’m more generous than you’d think. Generous enough to save my secret admirer’s butt.’

The grey-haired werewolf gnashed her teeth, and her vessels began to thud with resolute pulse.

And then Lunark howled, her hair dispersing with passionate battle spirit, and silver-white pillar of light ejected itself towards heaven.

(next chapter)

Well, there’s one good thing that Dark Spear has done for Frankie and Lunark - it testified that Frankenstein has feelings for Lunark XD. Now that the battles are about to unfold, I will be going back and forth between different places as I make progress with my fic. I’ll do my best to make sure there won’t be any confusion or misunderstanding as you read the future chapters. Hope you’d stay tuned for more!

#korean webcomic #korean webtoon #fanfic #noblesse #frankenstein #lunark #frankensteinxlunark #wolfsbane

[alphawave-writes]

World Records and recordings NSFW Sigma x Harold Winston

Synopsis: Harold Winston is sexually frustrated, but Siebren isn't interested in sex. Or at least, that's what Harold thinks, until he catches Siebren masturbating in his room. Read below or find it on AO3

I’ve also opened up a Sigrold discord server. If you wanna gush about space dads, join the crew! 

-

It’s taken Harold a while to acknowledge the possibility that Dr. Siebren de Kuiper may not hold any sexual interest in him. To be fair, that shouldn’t surprise him. As far as he knows, Harold is Siebren’s first serious relationship in a long, long time. And since they’ve been together, Siebren has given no indication he’s interested in sex. No passing comment, no double entendre, no sultry words or secretive wink or lingering touch. Nothing.

Harold on the other hand is sexually interested in Siebren. Very interested, if interest is measured by the amount and intensity of wet dreams and lewd fantasies a single man can have. He’s not sure when his feelings had shifted from a warm, unconditional love to this overwhelming lust. All he knows is that he’s hyper aware of every little move Siebren makes now. He sees every lick of the lips, every flutter of the eyes, and his imagination runs wild, giving him a glimpse into an alternate reality where Siebren kisses him hotly in the mouth and bends him over a table and takes him then and there, for all of the Horizon staff to see.

Harold’s lost count of the amount of times he’s let the images fly before his eyes when he’s alone in bed. He’d stroke himself off, whimpering silently to the dust in the air, imagining all the ways Siebren can have him. Every time he finishes, he’s sated but unsatisfied. Every morning he stares at Siebren’s door, just opposite his bedroom, and lets out a sigh.

It’s not like Harold beats around the bush, oh no, he makes his intentions very clear. He’s hinted many times in front of Siebren what his preferences are. He did his fair share of nudges and winks, and when that didn’t work, he opted for a more direct approach.

In hindsight, lying naked on Siebren’s bed in a provocative pose was probably not his greatest decision. It’s almost an hour when Siebren finally arrives and once he realizes that Harold is there, naked and wanting, he just stares at him for a few seconds, eyes wide. Harold tries to smile seductively even as his nerves threaten to get the better of him, but Siebren does not say a thing. Siebren walks silently up to the bed, places his hands on Harold’s shoulders, kisses him gently on the forehead, and proceeds to fall asleep next to him.

“I’m sorry, Harold,” he says apologetically the next morning. He's still wearing yesterday's clothes, his bedhead making him look wild and gorgeous. “I do love you, do not be mistaken, it’s just…better that we don’t do this kind of thing. It’ll only ruin our relationship.”

Harold frowns. “Are you sure?”

“I wouldn’t want to hurt you or your feelings.” He holds Harold close and rubs his back in a soothing manner, trailing kisses down Harold's chin. It’s Siebren's way of apologizing.

And it’s fine, Harold tells himself later that day. It’s fine that Siebren’s not attracted to him whatsoever. It’s totally fine that he’s the only one who masturbates to the thought of Siebren’s dick, big and red and full of veins, pressing into the cleft of his ass, sweet nothings whispered into his ear. It's definitely fine that he can get himself hard if he so much as thinks about Siebren for too long.

Oh, who is he kidding? It’s absolutely NOT fine. They need to discuss this properly. They need to. He wants to make his relationship with Siebren work.

For all intents and purposes, it is a rather typical day on Horizon One lunar base. Harold spends half the morning chasing after Specimen 28, and the other half of the morning doing the prep work for his latest experiment. In the afternoon he has lunch, chats with the other Horizon staff, and goes about his day.

He doesn’t see Siebren at all today, which is a bit of a relief. He needs the distraction away from him. After that fiasco, things have been more than a little awkward between the two of them. Siebren doesn’t smile easily at him, an almost distant expression upon his face whenever they make eye contact. Every time Harold tries to broach the topic of sex, Siebren changes the subject or just remains unusually quiet, or even just leave the room altogether. Harold can't account this for naïve innocence or embarrassment. Siebren's avoiding him.

Harold’s frustrated, but he refuses to be the one to start this conversation. Maybe he's being stubborn, but Siebren knows how he feels. He's supposed to be smart.

Harold stares at the open door to his lab and sighs. He almost expects Siebren to come in any moment now, but he's nowhere to be seen.

He'll have to talk to me sooner or later, Harold tells himself as he gets back into his work. He can't avoid me all day.

But then the hours tick on by and Harold is still alone. Dinner comes and goes and Siebren is still nowhere to be seen. It's not just Harold who notices his absence. Even the other scientists are concerned.

“It’s your job to find him,” Yoshida says. Today is their day to do the dishes. They’re the slowest dish washer on Horizon One, but they’re also the most thorough. No one ever finds a dirty spot on their cutlery when Yoshida does the washing.

Harold sighs. “Do I have to?”

“You’re the boyfriend,” Nevsky smirks. “Or is there trouble in paradise?”

It still sounds so weird hearing the word ‘boyfriend’ to describe himself. He never thought he’d be a boyfriend to anyone, let alone to be the boyfriend of a Dutch astrophysicist with horrific eating habits and a strange aversion to footwear. Then again, he never thought he’d be taking care of genetically enhanced gorillas on the moon. “Nothing a small chat cannot fix,” he smiles tersely.

“Wouldn’t have anything to do with this, would it?” Nevsky takes out a small, unopened bottle of lube from their lab coat. Harold’s eyes widen as he quickly snatches it away from Nevsky’s grasp, stuffing it into his own pockets.

His cheeks are crimson. Yoshida cackles loudly. The shit-eating grin Nevsky gives him is enough to make his stomach turn. “P-please tell me you didn’t snoop my room to get this.”

“It’s your fault for bringing Hammond in. He escaped his cage once again, and when we finally found him, he was chewing on the cap.” Nevsky smirks before adding, “I won’t report this to Lucheng, but maybe find a better place to hide this so the animals can’t get a hold of it. Just saying.”

Harold glances down at the bottle. Small bite marks could be seen near the top of the cap. “N-noted.”

“Hey, does that mean Harold will be the first man to have sex on the moon?” Yoshida asks.

“That’d be some world record,” Nevsky remarks. “Dr. Harold Winston, astrobiologist, zoologist. First man ever to have butt sex on the moon.”

“Doesn’t that mean Dr. de Kuiper also gets a world record?”

“They’ll both share a world record then. I mean, one of them has to perform it, and the other has to receive, right?” Nevsky turns to Harold and smirks. “No offense, Harold, but out of the two of you, you strike me as the bottom.”

“This is the part of the conversation where I go away and find Siebren and never talk to you guys again,” Harold cringes.

“Let me know how it goes,” Nevsky yells as Harold leaves the dining area. “Guinness will probably want all the details for your new world record.”

Harold checks Siebren’s lab, half expecting him to be distracted with his work, but he’s nowhere to be found. His lab is clean and well-kept, almost like he hasn’t been in it at all. To say it’s strange is an understatement. Siebren practically lives and breathes in his lab. He’s probably spent more time in this lab than he’s spent in his own bedroom, or any other part of the lunar base. Something must be wrong, Harold realizes. He’s got one other place to check.

Harold finds himself outside of Siebren’s private room, waiting by the door. He’s done his best to avoid even looking at Siebren’s door. After yesterday, it’s going to be so awkward. And it’s mostly his fault for making it awkward, he knows that, but one look at Siebren nowadays and his fantasies run wild. It’s easy to imagine Siebren’s large hands pinning him to the wall, his thrusts powerful and hard, a smug smirk drifting on top of his crimson face as he leaves Harold a shuddering mess.

He shakes his head, ignoring the heat rising up his cheeks. He doesn’t need this. Quick in and quick out. Tell Siebren he's missed dinner. Let him figure out why Harold’s frustrated in his own time.

Harold lets out a breath and presses his palm to the hand scanner. The door slides open.

As he suspects, Siebren is in his room, sitting at his desk. His back is facing Harold, hunched over and slumped as he gazes at the papers strewn across the hard surface. He’s got headphones on but the wires have since frayed slightly, some of the sound leaking. It’s faint, but Harold can just make out voices talking over a jazzy tune. A podcast, he thinks.

“Come on, Siebren, you spent all day in here?” Harold tuts silently. Siebren hasn’t noticed him at all. He’s too distracted with his podcast. A small smirk spreads across Harold’s face as an idea forms in his head.

He tiptoes forward, his steps as quiet as possible, ready to sneak up and surprise Siebren. A part of him tells him it’s petty revenge. The other part of him tells him it’s a way to alleviate some of his frustrations. The reason doesn’t matter. Before he can surprise Siebren proper, a loud shudder escapes his lips. The noise is lewd, desperate, a far cry from the strict properness of Siebren’s speech. It’s enough to make Harold stop in his tracks.

He's close enough to hear the words filtering from Siebren’s headphones. Two men are talking to each other in low, seductive tones. One has a deep yet weak voice. The other sounds a lot like Harold himself, only far more assertive and much more aroused.

“You’ll do as I say,” The Harold voice-alike breathes. There's heat and possessiveness in his tone.

“Y-yes,” the deep voiced man quivered.

“Yes, what, exactly?”

“Y-yes, master.”

“Good. Now, stay still for me. Don’t move one little bit.”

The noises that follow after are suggestive and revealing at the same time. There’s the loud noise of a zipper being pulled down, hushed moans and gasps, whispered compliments breathed in an erotic tone as the jazz gets louder, and then the wet noises of a man swallowing another’s cock.

Siebren lets his head fall onto his left arm, muffling his noises. Harold’s eyes trail down Siebren’s right arm, disappearing into his lap, moving up and down rhythmically. He should be mad, but a part of him is aroused by the sight of Siebren pleasuring himself to these voices, vulnerable and blushing.

Suddenly the door to Siebren’s room automatically closes with an audible swish. Siebren freezes in place, twisting his head slowly over his shoulder. His eyes are wide. His mouth is agape.

“S-siebren?”

He stops the recording, takes the headphones off his ears and quickly swivels his chair around to face the desk.

“Siebren,” Harold huffs.

He stomps his way forward and forcefully turns the chair to face him. Siebren averts his gaze, all of a sudden captivated with his empty bookshelf. His hands are folded over his crotch, his thick legs pressed together so tightly. Next to the pile of papers on Siebren’s desk is an empty plate, scraps of today’s breakfast coating the surface.

“Have you been in your room all day?” Harold admonishes.

Siebren scowls shamefully. “It…won’t calm down.”

“You…what?” Harold's eyebrows furrow.

“I-I don’t listen to this out of pleasure,” Siebren gestures at his headphones. “I just need to calm it down. Get on with my work. B-but my body does not heed my commands today.”

Harold gazes down to Siebren’s crotch and gulps. He can’t see anything with Siebren’s hands in the way, but he can see that his pants have been undone, pulled lower over his hips for easier access. Orange boxers peek over hip bones, slid down slightly to reveal a tuft of thick hair.

Harold takes a shaky breath in and out. He doesn’t know what to feel anymore. Laying naked on a bed doesn’t do anything for Siebren, but a few guys fucking on stereo do? But then one of those guys sounded an awful lot like him. He purses his lips and shakes the thought away. He’s got bigger problems. More immediate problems.

“How long has…it…not calmed down?” Harold asks slowly.

“P-probably just over an hour now.”

“Only an hour?”

“This is the fourth time today I’ve had this particular problem.” Siebren flushes. “It doesn’t stay away for long.”

“And why doesn’t it stay away?”

Siebren huffs, but he doesn’t reply. His crimson blush has reached down to his neck and hands. His jaw is clenched tight, his body squirms, a far cry from the confident and suave man that Harold knows. His dazed eyes give Harold the answer Siebren’s lips don’t speak. Harold wasn't the only one with the hyperactive imagination today, it seems.

Harold doesn’t stop looking at Siebren’s pants. He’s had fantasies like this. Siebren would be properly dressed, just unzipping his pants to unveil his thick cock peeking from his underwear. He would lead Harold down onto his knees, pulling his head forward into his CROTCH. Siebren will give him the simple but powerful command to “suck” and Harold would eagerly do as Siebren says, watching and waiting for Siebren’s cool façade to slowly break as he moans to the stars.

His throat feels so dry as he braces his hand on Siebren’s chair. He’s not sure what expression is on his face, but he knows it must be intense, because Siebren exhales noisily through his nostrils, the hot air caressing Harold’s cheek. He places his other hand over Siebren’s, their gazes connected.

“Let me help you.”

“N-no,” he whispers.

“Please,” Harold insists.

Siebren whines, but he puts up no resistance when Harold pushes his hands aside. He sucks in a breath as his cock springs upward, suddenly exposed to the cool air. Harold’s eyes are as big as balloons.

“Gosh,” he breathes, because really, what else can he say about a cock like this? Even considering Siebren’s height, it’s massive, bulging blood vessels lining up from the base of his cock all the way up to the red, glistening head. It’s almost straight, with a slight lean to the left, the length so long that if Siebren was shirtless, Harold thinks it goes past his bellybutton. It leaks eagerly, precum covering the surface in a wet sheen.

It’s not what Harold expects Siebren’s dick to look like. It’s so much bigger than he expected. It’s so much better than anything his brain could’ve conjured.

Before Harold can stop himself, his hand wraps around Siebren’s shaft.

“H-Harold,” Siebren hisses.

“You’re thick too.” His hand strokes upwards slowly, all the way up to the head. He never thought Siebren would react like this, a fist over his mouth, gaze averted, eyes half-lidded in pleasure. It’s a side of him Harold’s never seen before. The Siebren he knows is prim and proper, a haughty gentleman with a strict routine and stricter standards. It’s nothing like this Siebren, beautiful and blushing and vulnerable.

He wants more. He wants to see more.

Harold gets down on his knees and leans forward, inhaling deeply. The scent of Siebren’s dick is heavy and musky and a bit overwhelming but it’s Siebren’s scent, and that’s all that matters. He strokes just a bit faster, the pressure on his fingers just a bit harder. Siebren quivers from his touch, shifting uncomfortably in his chair. He’s finally staring at him with those mesmerizing blue eyes, cloudy with desire. It's such an undeniably erotic expression, and Harold's the one to bring it to the surface.

“I-I don’t have any lube,” Siebren whimpers.

“I’ve smuggled some.”

“You, Dr. Harold Winston, smuggled lube onto a lunar base?” Siebren almost sounds impressed.

Harold smirks. “I’m prepared.”

Siebren splutters as he turns his head away. “W-well, I don’t have condoms.”

“We don’t need them.”

Siebren’s lips dip. He’s trying and failing to find another excuse, another reason to stop this. Siebren can’t say he doesn’t want this, because they both know he does. He leans back into his chair, legs spread to accommodate Harold, fists clenched at his side as Harold jerks him faster.

“Y-you don’t want this. Don’t want me,” Siebren says in a hoarse whisper. He moans softly as Harold’s other hand begin to caress his balls. “I-I’m too big. I would only hurt you.”

“Is that why you refused me earlier? Because you think I’ll break up with you because your dick is humongous?” Harold says incredulously.

Siebren blushes furiously. “When you put it like that…”

Harold can’t help but laugh quietly, if only to ease the tension building on Siebren’s shoulders. “Siebren, I’m already on my knees for you. And I’m old.” He licks a long, slow stripe up Siebren’s cock. “I don’t mind taking it as slow as we need to.”

His lips wrap eagerly around Siebren’s head. Above him, Siebren groans loudly. One hand plucks the glasses off his face and deposits them on the desk behind him. The other is on his head, fingers curling into his short brown locks. Siebren doesn’t pull or tug. His touch is soft and delicate, like he’s handling a porcelain doll that will break at any moment.

“Do you want this?” Harold whispers, nuzzling into Siebren’s groin. The pubic hairs tickle his nose. It takes all his effort to suppress a chuckle. “I’ll stop if you want me to. Won’t ever ask for sex if you don’t want it.”

“I…” Siebren finally turns his gaze down to Harold. His smile is small, shy, and utterly gorgeous. His hand sweeps down Harold’s skull. “I do want this, my love, just…slow, please.”

Harold smiles. He presses a soft kiss to the underside of Siebren’s cock. “I can do slow.”

Siebren shivers. “It didn’t seem like it earlier. You all but forced yourself on me.”

“Well, OK, maybe I wasn’t slow earlier, but I’ll go slow from now on.” I think I’ll need to with this monster, Harold thinks to himself.

“G-good.”

Harold feels the hand on the back of his head pull him forward. His lips are once more on the tip of Siebren’s dick, sucking lightly, making sure not to graze his teeth too harshly. The taste on his tongue is powerful, and not entirely pleasant, but Siebren’s groaning softly now, his hand ruffling Harold’s hair while the other one slides up his shirt, massaging slow circles over his nipple, and it’s all worth it.

When he thinks his jaw is relaxed enough, Harold presses further until he can feel Siebren’s dick on the back of his throat. Siebren moans, the vibrations running down to Harold’s open mouth, making him shudder. His pants feel so tight and his body feels so hot, but he’s got a job to do. He bops his head up and down slowly, settling on a controlled pace, dragging his tongue along every square inch of flesh it can reach.

“Good,” Siebren sighs. “V-very good.” There are other Dutch words mixed in as well that Harold doesn’t understand—synonyms for “good”, he guesses. He moans in response, and makes the mistake of gazing up into Siebren’s cool blue eyes. The look he gives Harold is heated and intense, like he plucked the stars out of the sky and placed them beneath his irises. It's so erotic. It's so unfair.

Harold feels himself getting hard with every second. The pressure is just too much. He palms himself slowly in full view of Siebren, a reasonably difficult job with a dick in his mouth but achievable. He groans lowly, uncoiling with the friction.

“Harold,” Siebren gasps. He’s close, and it’s obvious from the way he squirms with every little flick of Harold’s tongue. His hand is firm on Harold’s head now, holding it in place. “P-Please tell me you also smuggled condoms.”

Harold’s lips leave Siebren’s dick with a pop, a trail of saliva and precum hanging off his chin. “I-I do.” His gaze drops. “A-at least, I think I do. Why?”

“I don’t want our first time to end like this.”

“Then what do you want?”

“I want…” Siebren trails off, his eyes sliding down Harold’s chest, resting at his hips. His eyes are cloudy. “I don’t know. Just as long as it’s you.”

“So you do want me?”

“Of course I do,” he breathes seductively.

Harold suppresses a gasp. There’s butterflies in his chest, flying in every direction, making him feel warm and fuzzy. His hand goes up to Siebren’s knee, rubbing slow circles. “I want you too. Preferably before the condoms expire.”

Siebren’s lips purse, his head suddenly lowers, and then he laughs, dispelling the tension in the air. Harold tries to pout, but it’s difficult not to smile when Siebren’s laughing so childishly like this, mouth wide and open, eyes scrunched in happiness. This is the Siebren he knows. This is the Siebren he loves.

Siebren pulls Harold up slowly so they’re both standing on their own two feet. His hand lowers down to Harold’s chin, caressing his jaw softly before kissing him passionately. It’s unlike any of their previous kisses. It’s warm and passionate, open-mouthed and wanting. His tongue spars with Harold’s eagerly, drawing out as many sounds as it can. The moans that leaves Harold’s throat are obscene, lewd.

“S-Sieb?” Harold breathes when their mouths drift away.

Siebren swipes his thumb over Harold's chin and brings it up to his tongue, licking slowly. He smacks his lips loudly, his face scrunched up. “Is that what I taste like?”

“You don’t know what you taste like?”

“You do?”

“Well, one of us is the weird one here,” Harold raises his eyebrows.

“I’m going to say it’s you, my love,” Siebren smirks.

“You’re the one who kissed me, knowing exactly where my mouth’s been.” Harold’s hand traces down Siebren’s shirt as he presses a kiss to Siebren’s neck. Electricity fizzles warmly on his lips, traveling down his spine. “Perhaps we should take this back to my room then?”

“I suppose we shall,” Siebren glances down at his still-hard dick and frowns. “Although perhaps I might need to take care of this.”

“Your jacket’s big enough to hide it.” He takes Siebren’s hand in his and leads him out of the room before Siebren can argue otherwise, giggling at the surprised yelp that spills out of Siebren’s mouth.

It’s a quick trip to Harold’s bedroom next door to get the condoms. Turns out the lube bottle wasn’t the only victim from Hammond’s ‘attack’. As he opens his bedside drawer, he notices that his box of condoms is also lightly chewed at the edge, though a quick inspection inside prove that the condoms within are unaffected. He breathes a sigh of relief. He doesn't want to give Siebren an excuse to stop this.

“Found them?” Siebren asks teasingly. He’s sitting down at the foot of Harold’s bed, smirking lightly as he rests backwards on his elbows. Harold laughs as he crosses the threshold to the bed and sits in Siebren’s lap. He’s pulled into a crushing kiss, full of teeth and tongue, textures and tastes and wonderful sounds. A hand reaches over his shoulder, pulling his lab coat down to his elbows.

God, they’re really going to do this. Siebren is going to strip his clothes off and pin him down to the bed and make love with him. Siebren actually wants him. This is really happening.

“Sieb,” Harold gasps. He barely has the necessary brain power to get the box of condoms and lube out of his coat pockets and place them on the bed. The rest of his thoughts are all on Siebren’s touch, Siebren’s love, Siebren’s everything.

“Let me do this,” he whispers. “It’s the least I can do.”

In a flurry of hand motions, Harold’s coat is gone. His turtleneck is next, Siebren guiding Harold’s arms up, pulling the fabric up and over his head. Siebren pauses for a second to admire his chest before his tongue latches onto Harold’s neck, sucking lightly. A shudder escapes Harold’s throat. Fingers move lower, fumbling at his zipper. Pants are slid down, and then underwear, thrown off in some direction behind his back.

Harold feels the sharp inhale on his neck, and then a nervous chuckle. Siebren palms his half-hard dick, rubbing softly. “Just as I thought. You are beautiful,” Siebren utters.

Harold blushes self-consciously. “So you have thought of me like this?”

“I have,” Siebren quietly admits. “Thought of you—thought of the both of us—in many different situations.” He smiles. “Not all of them were entirely innocent.”

Harold sweeps his hand over the stretch of belly peeking out from under Siebren’s shirt. His mind is swimming. Now that he knows Siebren feels the same way, the possibilities feel endless. “What are you thinking now?” Harold whispers.

“That I want you. That I want to please you.” Siebren kisses Harold's collarbone. “That I love you dearly.”

“So sappy,” Harold giggles as he pulls Siebren close for another kiss. “I love you too.”

Harold doesn’t have near the same amount of patience when it came to stripping Siebren, taking the pieces off one at a time and throwing them over his shoulder. He only gets a moment to admire Siebren’s broad, hairy chest and strong muscles and flushed cheeks. Siebren pulls him in and reverses their positions, Harold's back pressed to the mattress. Kisses and licks are exchanged eagerly. True to Siebren’s request, they’re passionate but slow, patient and wet and warm. Everything Harold wants and more.

Harold hears the sound of the lube bottle popping open before he sees it. It squelches deliciously as it oozes down Siebren’s fingers, covering them in a glistening sheen. Siebren's smile is soft yet shy.

“I must warn you, it’s been a long while since I’ve done this,” Siebren says.

“No offense, but I’d be surprised if it hasn’t been a long time for you, Sieb.”

Siebren just smirks as he spreads the lube over Harold’s puckered asshole. Harold hisses lowly. “That certainly keeps you quiet,” Siebren laughs.

Harold has a retort, but words don’t make much sense when he's got a finger in his ass, slowly working itself in and out. There’s the squelch of more lube, and suddenly there’s another finger, scissoring with the other, grazing over his prostate.

“E-easy, tiger,” Harold sighs.

“Be patient. I need to prepare you thoroughly.”

“Xīn gān, I think I’ll be finished by the time I’m prepared, at this rate.”

“Patience, mijn schatje,” Siebren insists.

There’s a third finger, and then a fourth, moving slowly, careful not to stimulate him too much and push him off the cliff. For a moment Harold thinks that maybe he’s bitten off more than he can chew. He already feels so full with four fingers, but Siebren’s cock is much thicker than that. It’s hard to relax when there’s a hand on his belly, pressing lightly into his pudgy flesh, distracting him.

But eventually those fingers slide out of him, and Harold groans loudly, feeling empty all of a sudden. There’s the slick slide of more lube down Siebren’s cock, and then the crinkle of the condom wrapper being torn. Harold watches with hooded eyes as Siebren puts the condom on slowly.

Harold smiles. “Ever been told you put on a condom sexily?”

“No,” Siebren blinks. “There’s a non-sexy way to do it?”

Harold chuckles. “Maybe I’ll show you one day.”

“I’d rather you not,” Siebren responds wryly. He squeezes Harold’s hips lightly. “Turn around for me.”

Harold gives a knowing smirk, but does as Siebren says. He’s flat on his stomach, his arms folded over the pillow. Siebren’s hand glides down from his ass to his thighs, tapping at them rhythmically. Harold slowly slides his legs wider until Siebren taps him to stop. Siebren hums indulgently, leaning down to kiss constellations on Harold’s back.

His cock rocks into the crack of Harold’s ass, slow and steady, a dizzying friction. Strangled noises escape Harold's throat. He's so sensitive all of a sudden, hyperaware of every little touch and sound. He's no longer aware of the four walls that surround his bedroom or the volume of his moans. The only thing in his universe is Siebren.

"Tell me when you're ready," Siebren whispers.

"G-gosh, Sieb," he pants.

"You haven't answered me."

"Sieb, I've been ready for weeks, please, don't make me wait any longer."

There's another slow kiss to the junction between his neck and shoulder. The lips pressed on his skin curl up into a smirk. "If you say so," he hums.

The tip presses against Harold's entrance before penetrating and he groans obscenely, grabbing a fistful of the pillow. Siebren’s hands are on his hips, rubbing circles with his thumbs, urging him to relax. It stings, and it definitely burns despite the liberal amounts of lube they’ve used, but the slide is good. Real good. Siebren's pace is measured and tempered, his arms surrounding Harold from both sides, hips rocking melodically. Harold almost wishes he could turn around just so he could see Siebren’s flushed face prickled with beads of sweat. It’d be beautiful, vulnerable. Absolutely breathtaking.

“You want this,” Siebren pants. It’s a statement, not a question, but it begs for an answer regardless.

“Y-yeah,” Harold manages. “For a while now.”

“Have you imagined this?”

Harold opens his mouth to respond but then Siebren thrusts at just the right angle and the stars begin to flicker behind his eyes. “Right there, r-right…yes, there.”

Siebren’s breath hitches, his hips momentarily losing their rhythm. “D-don’t stop talking,” he pleads.

Harold shouldn’t be completely surprised that his talking is turning Siebren on—he did just catch him moments ago getting off to some erotica podcast. But the fact that his voice alone can make Siebren lose his composure so easily sends a dark thrill up his spine.

“Imagined you…coming into my room once,” Harold admits. Siebren groans lewdly, making Harold chuckle lightly. “You’d tell me how much you wanted me, that you had to have me, and you’d lose all control. Rip my clothes off and order me around. Make me yours.”

"M-more," Siebren breathes.

"You'd order me to stay on all fours while you take me from behind. You'd be so brutal on me, but it would feel so good. You wouldn't hold back whatsoever. I'd be at your utter mercy and I would love every second of it."

Siebren does something in between a pant and a huff of laughter as he buries his nose into Harold’s shoulder. His chest is pressed into Harold’s back. Gravity pulls their bodies so close, leaving no square inch of their skin untouched. “I-I don’t think I’m the kind to order you around like that.” His pace is getting faster. His thrusts are pushing deeper. “D-don’t think I can last much longer either.”

It’s only then that Harold becomes aware of heat and density pooling in his groin, not unlike the death of a supergiant star. There’s no longer any semblance of tempo to Siebren’s hips, thrusting wildly one second, and then achingly slow the next. Siebren’s moaning now, the hot breath tickling the tip of his ears. He’s whispering of comet tails and the infinite realms of space, sweet nothings that mean nothing except for the two of them. The arms surrounding his figure are shaking, shaking fists gripping tightly onto the covers.

Harold’s hand reaches for Siebren’s, wrapping his fingers over and squeezing. At once, the arms stop shaking. Siebren exhales loudly, curling forward, thrusting harder. “M-Mijn Schatje, please.”

“Hold it together,” Harold pleads. “Just a bit longer. Want you inside. Want you inside me, Sieb.”

“Harold,” Siebren gasps.

“I’m so close. One more moment.”

He feels one of the arms move around him, and a hand turns his face to the side. Before he realises what's happening, Siebren’s mouth crashes into his, tongue flicking eagerly, hips gliding fluidly, pressing constantly at his prostate and it’s so much pleasure, almost too much pleasure. Within seconds, Harold’s muscles tense as a loud, long moan leaves his lips, swallowed by Siebren’s tongue. The supernova explodes in his veins, searing him with light from the inside, turning him into a shuddery mess.

Siebren groans loudly and soon he too is lost to the world, cumming soon after. He collapses on Harold’s back, pressing tightly, shivering violently. Harold closes his eyes, losing himself to the waves. The stars before him give way to nebulas, then galaxies, then the universe, and it’s beautiful and perfect.

It’s many minutes later after the supernova has faded that Harold feels Siebren shift above him, lifting himself off and up before collapsing by Harold’s side. He’s breathing heavily, cheeks and body flushed, tired but sated. He looks absolutely gorgeous like this, Harold thinks. He wouldn’t mind seeing Siebren like this a little bit more.

It’s a long while before Siebren realizes Harold is staring at him. His eyes droop down from Harold's face to his hand. Slowly, he reaches out for them, intertwining his fingers, squeezing gently.

“You did not regret this, did you?” Siebren asks quietly.

“Maybe tomorrow morning I will,” Harold teases, rubbing his backside for emphasis. Siebren just raises his eyebrows incredulously. Harold chuckles. “I’m kidding. No, I do not regret this.” Quieter, he adds, “You did wonderful.”

Siebren releases a breath. “Good,” he smiles before clearing his throat loudly. “You did…you did fine as well.”

“Just fine?” Harold laughs.

“OK, you did more than fine,” Siebren rolled his eyes, smiling softly. He nuzzles closer into Harold. “You were also wonderful.”

Harold smiles softly. Siebren’s compliments never fail to ignite the sparks in his chest. It's not enough for him to ask for another round, but it's enough to make him feel warm and blissful in the afterglow.

“Does that mean you want me?”

An embarrassed blush caresses his face as he pouts. "C-could you clarify?"

"We both know what I mean. The next step. You know..." he gestures at the empty space between their naked bodies. "This."

"I do," Siebren whispers. Suddenly, as if just catching himself, averts his gaze. He bites his bottom lip to stop himself from smiling. "S-sorry. About earlier, about me avoiding you. The last few times I got to this stage of a relationship I've...intimidated people with my size. I thought you would be the same. Clearly, I underestimated you."

"Clearly," Harold laughs. He snuggles closer into Siebren, lying his head under his chin. "So you don't mind if we do this from now on?"

"Do what, exactly?" His grin betrays the otherwise innocent tone in his question.

"Sex. Making love." Harold smirks. "Fucking."

"So crude," Siebren teases. He laughs softly as he envelopes Harold in his arms, pressing another slow kiss to his forehead. "Yes. I am ready. Although maybe not for the last one."

Harold smiles softly as he curls into Siebren's arms. There are so many things on his mind. He wants to know what Siebren likes and doesn't like during sex, if he has any kinks of his own, if perhaps they've got mutual fantasies that they want to try some time in the future. He wants to talk about it now so they are better prepared for next time, because he's sure next time will be even more spectacular than tonight, but Siebren is drifting away in his arms, already lulling off to sleep.

Harold smiles sleepily to himself as he stares at Siebren's sleeping form, brushing his hand over Siebren's warm cheek. Perhaps he can have that discussion some other day. He doesn't need to rush it. They're old men, with experience and time under their belt. As long as time is linear and the future is unwritten, they can go as slow as they want.

It’s late when they finally make their way to the breakroom for breakfast the next morning. Harold was in a mad scramble to find his glasses, only to realise he left them in Siebren’s room. Siebren himself was having an ethical dilemma on the proper disposal of used condoms in space, before admitting defeat and chucking it in his room’s sole bin. And then there was Siebren dressing and undressing and then re-dressing, which cost a bit of precious time. But they’re reasonably presentable, in fresh clothes, and best of all, they don’t look freshly fucked when they finally arrive in the kitchen.

It’s too easy for them to fall into familiar habits. Harold makes his way for the kitchen counter to make himself a sandwich while Siebren presses his tea order into the machine. “Make me a coffee,” he sleepily asks.

“Sure,” Siebren gruffly responds, tapping in Harold’s order. He's already memorised it long ago. The flat white is finished just as Harold plates up his PB&J sandwich. Siebren has already placed the drink near Harold’s usual seat, sipping his tea quietly in his own chair right beside Harold's.

Harold makes himself comfortable, sitting down and opening up the tablet he brought with himself and doing his daily sweep at the lunar colony’s integrity and the gorillas’ vitals. He bites into his sandwich, only aware in that moment of two eyes watching him. Siebren smiles softly at him, a knowing glint in his eyes. Harold can't stop the smile from spreading on his face as he takes a sip of coffee.

He barely glances up in time to see Yoshida and Nevsky approach them, smiling slyly. There’s the pop of a party popper, then the toot of a party pipe, performed by Yoshida and Nevsky respectively. Siebren jumps in his seat.

“Congratulations on your world record,” Yoshida laughs.

Siebren’s brows furrow in confusion. “What world record?”

“Oh no,” Harold murmurs.

From behind his back, Nevsky brings out two official looking documents. They’re both identical copies of the Guiness World Record certificate, with the original text whited out crudely, new text photoshopped on top. Nevsky hands one to Siebren, before sliding the other one to Harold.

On Harold’s certificate it reads ‘The world’s first butt sex on the moon was performed by Dr. Harold Winston (USA/China) and Dr. Siebren de Kuiper (The Netherlands) on Horizon One Lunar Colony.’

From the way Siebren’s face paled, Harold assumed his certificate read the same thing.

Yoshida and Nevsky are cackling like hyenas, tears of laughter streaming down their faces. Harold’s only saving grace is that none of the other scientists are here, though by the amplitude of the laughter, the others might be attracted to the noise sooner or later.

“O-oh god, they really did it. Look at how they’re blushing. Look,” Yoshida heaves.

“Who’s the bottom?” Nevsky asks.

“Probably Harold. Look at how he’s sitting.”

Harold winces, not necessarily because his ass is a little bit battered from last night, but because his dirty laundry has practically been aired out for all to see.

“You two,” Siebren growls.

“Oh my god, I have to tell Zhang and Flores,” Nevsky giggles.

“You have to tell us all the details,” Yoshida says to Harold and Siebren. “I mean, someone’s gotta tell Guinness about this world achievement.” Yoshida and Nevsky continue to laugh.

Siebren stands up slowly, glares at the two, and then picks up both certificates in his hands and rips them into shreds. Their laughter quickly dies.

Harold stands up with a carefully neutral expression. He gobbles his sandwich up and drinks the coffee in one go, wiping his lips of the excess.

“If anybody needs me, I’m going to throw myself out of airlock E-35," Harold emotionlessly.

Siebren takes a few seconds to glare evilly at Yoshida and Nevsky before turning to Harold. "I'll join you."

#Overwatch #Sigma #Siebren de kuiper #Harold Winston #Sigrold #I am ashamed of how proud I am of this smut fic #The word count is 6700 words!!! #I didn't make a podfic of this #The only way I'll be convinced to write a podfic of this is if I got commissioned #If you guys can support me by reblogging this that would be super appreciated

[chaoticneutralwriter]

Distance and the Heart

You were convinced that you’ll be fine on your own while he’s gone. After all, all you wanted to do was sit at home and watch BTS videos all day. Instead, you go on a ‘date’, break someone’s nose and dig an even deeper ‘Oh-shit-I-think-I-might-like-my-guardian-demon’ hole for yourself.

You should never be let outside again.

guardian demon!Jimin x reader

genre: slice of life, fluff, slow-burn, supernatural, comedy

word count: 8.1k (I DID NOT MEAN FOR THIS TO HAPPEN)

Related works: Unorthodox | Genuine | 3AM Demon | The Grinch Who Stole New Year

A/N: well this got long....LOL UMM Hope you enjoy it! There’s more plot! And be aware of douchey guys! :DD

“You’re going where now?”

 “Think of it as a ‘performance evaluation’ meeting; you know, the kind you humans have with your boss to discuss how well or not you’ve been doing your job.” He replies back, adjusting the cuffs on his shirt as he stands before your full-length mirror. You try your hardest not to stare at him from your seat by your desk, in the middle of working on some assignments just to get ahead of yourself for the week, but you find your concentration wavering when your mind clearly found something way more interesting to study.

 Jimin is currently dressed in an all black ensemble; a black button down that’s tucked into his black slacks, allowing you the chance to see just how perfectly they hug his thighs and ahem ass. His silvery hair is immaculately coiffed as per usual and as he turns to shrug on the black blazer jacket, embroidered with intricate silver linings, you find yourself very distressed in your seat because your mind is telling you no but your body…. your body is saying hell yes.

 You whip your gaze away, embarrassed by your own thoughts and you hope that your guardian demon hasn’t noticed. Damn him for looking so good.

 “I’ll try to keep the visit short, but don’t be surprised if you don’t see me for a few days.” Jimin makes the final adjustments to his look, brushing away strands of hair that fall out of place over his forehead before turning to fix you with a stare.

 “Don’t worry, take all the time you need.” You encourage, hoping to feign indifference of his departure. It seems to not slip past him as Jimin’s plush lips curl into that damning smirk and to add more insult to injury, he languidly saunters over to you, instantly putting you on high alert.

 “Oh cherub, don’t you know I worry that you’ll probably die from missing me so much?” He singsongs and you blanch in response. “But just so you know, I’m only one call away; hell is completely toll free.”

 He removes his hand previously stuffed into his pocket to pat you on the head mockingly to which you swat at it before it even makes contact with a single strand of hair. You kiss your teeth, annoyed but he just throws his head back and laughs at you. You curse again because as much as you’re irritated, the tinkling sound never fails to make your heart race. 

 “Just go already; aren’t you going to be late or something?” You feebly mumble, turning back to stubbornly burn a hole into your laptop screen. You hear a muffled snort; some shuffling and you finally think you’ve got your deserved peace from this nuisance but then—

 “No kiss goodbye?” 

 On reflex, you hurl your seat cushion at his general direction, only for it to crash against your full length mirror noisily (you wince as little knick knacks nearby topples over from the force), the last remnants of his cackling fading into the air and the only thing you can do is huff out loudly, face blazing. But what you find the most frustrating thing however is that you’re not sure if it’s from anger or from the thought of imagining kissing said demon.

 -

 After about three hours, you shut off your laptop and place your pencil down to heave a big stretch with your arms high above your head. You wince at the kinks and pops of your joints but you’re satisfied with your finished work. Now you can relax and laze around all you want, maybe even catch up on a couple of RUN BTS episodes that you’ve sadly missed due to being so busy.

 “Hey! Y/N, wanna check out this cafe with me?”

 Or not…

 Jaehee’s voice calls out to your from her place by your door, phone in hand to showcase an instagram profile of said cafe she mentioned. You’re a bit hesitant to be honest, feeling like your energy is all spent from working on school stuff that all you wanted to do now was to essentially become a human rock. Jaehee picks up on it, having known you for a while but she must be desperate to get out because she persists.

 “C’mon Y/N! It’s still early and a Saturday plus I know you’re not working tomorrow either!”

 You’re caught in between the pros and cons of staying home or going out because although you’re definitely not opposed to going to a cute little cafe to maybe reward yourself with an iced coffee or latte, you definitely dread the thought of the process to getting yourself ready to look presentable to the world when you’re completely comfortable in your PJs. Your indecision shows and like a bloodhound, Jaehee hones in on it and with a last ditch effort of convincing you, she throws in some puppy-dog eyes and a pout.

 “Please? I really wanna check this place out with you.” 

 The loud sigh you let out is enough to have a smile break out widely on her face, needing no words to know that you’ve given in. With reluctance, you drag yourself up out of your chair to get changed.

 Guess BTS will have to wait a little longer.

 -

 Admittedly the cafe is pretty cute and this iced latte is great so you find the discomfort of being dragged out of the house disappearing. You’re having a good time, laughing at a work story Jaehee is telling you as you’re munching on some fancy looking pastries that should’ve been too good-looking to eat (but that sentiment quickly went away because Jaehee took too long taking photos of it from every angle).

 There’s a lull in conversation as Jaehee takes the time to type something out on her phone, you paying no mind as your attention is more on getting the last of this cheesecake in front you.

 “So Jason; you remember him right? He’s gonna stop by with a friend of his who just moved here to the city. Do you mind if they join us?”

 You��re caught like a deer in headlights, mouthful of delicious desserts. Half of you find that there’s no reason they shouldn’t be allowed but the other half is cringing at the thought of having to interact with people whom you know very little about (Jason has only been a recent thing in Jaehee’s life and from what little times you’ve hung out with him and Jaehee together, you still can’t quite figure out if he’s worth investing in before he’s replaced).

 Rationality wins out eventually, finding yourself no real good reason to say no so you bite the bullet. “Sure, I guess?"

 When you’re halfway through your latte, Jaehee’s phone vibrates and she picks up.

 “Hello?…. Oh you’re here? We’re just inside, come in!” She hangs up promptly with a smile and before you can ask or wonder more on it, the door opens and in walks two guys. You easily recognize one of them as being the one that Jaehee took to the Christmas party as a date so by process of elimination, the other is the friend from out of town.

 He’s quite plain looking; a mop of dark hair and with no striking feature catching your eye other than the fact that he seems quite tall and lanky (but the same can be said about everyone you basically meet). The duo approaches just as Jaehee waves them over, her date going in for a hug to which your friend reciprocates while his friend simply smiles politely on the side.

 “Jason! Glad you could make it, and you must be Mike right?”

 Mike smiles widely and offers a handshake for her, to which Jaehee takes naturally.

 “Yeah, nice to finally meet you.”

 “And this is my friend and roommate Y/N.”

 You smile, taking Mike’s outstretched hand to give a shake as well as giving a simple greeting. Conversations are taken over by Jaehee for a bit before you all collectively decide to leave and walk along the street where the cafe is located. The weather is nice, the air slightly crisp but the real cold was more of something to worry about once the sun goes down.

 You file out of the shop and begin your walk, Jaehee and Jason naturally pairing up to chat, which left you with Mike trailing after them from behind. Oh joy….

 Your heart is beating a little too hard in your chest for your liking, your small bouts of social anxiety creeping in at now being put in a position to make small talk with a total stranger, a skill you haven’t quite got the hang of in all of your twenty-some odd years of being alive.

 “This seems like a really nice place to hang out with your friends huh?” Luckily, Mike’s the first to strike up conversations with you. Pressure relieved, you plaster on a smile.

 “Yeah, most of the cafes and popular eating spots are here….” 

 And that’s pretty much all you get out. You’re starting to get sweaty.

 “What would you recommend here?” Mike persists, seemingly not bothered by what you feel is a conversation struggling to continue every other sentence. He still has a smile on his face which makes his otherwise ordinary features appear more attractive, and coupled by his earnestness to keep talking to you, the friendliness and outgoing characteristics of him becomes more apparent. You find yourself impressed by his efforts of keeping the awkwardness at bay.

 “Uh, I’ve only tried a few places. So far pretty good in my opinion.” 

 “So the cafe today was good then? Because what you were eating back there looks really delicious.”

 “Yeah, I guess. The cheesecake is all right.” 

 It pretty much continues with Mike obviously being the more animated out of the two you as he pretty much chats enough for you both. You find out he’s moved here to attend the local university, the same one Jason goes to and that’s how they became friends and that he’s only been here for a little over two weeks. You nod along, offering comments here and there and the last remains of heart palpitations are thankfully gone.

 “What’s Tsujiro?” Mike suddenly asks as his gaze wanders to a dessert place you’re coming up on. You pause, can’t help but think how the shop name as well known as Tsujiro could slip under someone’s radar at this point. However, you push it aside because who are you judge; maybe he came from a smaller city or town?

 “Oh, uh, it’s a Japanese dessert place; they mainly sell soft serve green tea ice cream in like, tall cups or small ones with other toppings and stuff.” 

 “Oh wow, I might actually want to try one out. Is it good?” He turns to you, bright eyed and you give a shrug and a wry smile.

 “It’s all right.” You say, voice cracking near the end from being unsure. Sure you liked it, but honestly found it too pricey for your taste. 

 You don’t tell Mike that though (who are you to stop him from wanting to try it out; who knows, maybe he’ll like it).

 It seems good enough for him because he makes a beeline into the shop and you call out to Jaehee and Jason to wait up. No sooner, Mike comes out and everyone comments on his chosen concoction from the store; a tall cup of what appears to be green tea smoothie, topped with more green soft serve, a cube of cheesecake (?), sprinkled with mochi and other sweet looking treats. It’s pretty to look at, but the price he tells you were anything but (you’re not surprised).

 Your group walks around a bit more until spontaneously deciding the grab dinner once Mike finishes up with his dessert (“not as good as it looked,” he chuckles disappointingly).

 The restaurant you decide to eat at however was thankfully. You all make good talk with one another, Jaehee, being the ever better socialite than you, does a good job at covering for you both (you have a sneaking suspicion it’s the alcohol you’ve all ordered with your meal). You feel like you’ve filled your quota of talks and keeping up with pleasantries in the face of strangers, though that doesn’t stop Mike from pulling you into conversations every now and then. You throw in a comment or two to suffice.

 Dinner wraps up nicely, the bill is split and you all get ready to leave: Jason with Mike and Jaehee with you. You think you’re in the clear, the slight alcohol enhancing the excited buzz you’re feeling about heading home until Mike calls out to you suddenly at what should’ve been the final exchanges of goodbyes.

 “Hey Y/N, is it okay if I have your number? Would be cool to see you again.”

 You blink, unsure of how to respond. You seldom give your number out to people you’ve only just met, unless the circumstances are called for (i.e. business related, appointment based, or if it’s long overdue if you keep seeing the person). Snobby or uptight aren’t words you would describe yourself with this, but perhaps a combination of pessimistic and realistic is more appropriate; you’ve long made peace with the fact that at this stage of your life, the chances of acquiring any more life-long friends is zero to none. Nine times out of ten, this will be just another number you’ll have to clear out.

 At the nudge of Jaehee’s shoulder, you’re knocked out of your stupor and the realization that you had probably been vacantly staring at him settles as an embarrassed blush on your cheeks. 

 “O-Oh, uh, you have iMessenger? That’s better to get in touch with me.” You awkwardly reach for your phone to pull up the app and Mike laughs good-naturedly, nodding. You exchange contacts and finally, with a breath of relief, you part ways. Not a moment sooner when you had turned the block to the direction of your house did Jaehee pounce on you.

 “So? What do you think of him?” She asks, trying to be on the sly with things but it’s obvious how eager she is to hear.

 “Think of who?”

 “Mike! Jason’s friend.” 

 “What about him?” You’re not seeing the significance of the question nor the person in question.

 “You know… do you think he's nice? Cool? …. Cute?”

 You nearly give yourself whiplash at Jaehee’s choice of questions, turning your gaze onto her expectant ones. You feel your face contort itself into a sort of half grimace and look of incredulity.

 “I only just met him? Like he’s nice, I guess…. Really friendly to people he just met— I don’t know.”

 Jaehee seems to deflate at your lukewarm response. “Really? That’s it?”

 “…. Yeah? Why?”

 She sighs, hand tugging to link arms with you. “Never mind.” 

 The rest of the walk home you’re confused but you’re too tired to really think too much on it at this point. So much so that once you’re in the house, your night routine all blurs together and you immediately fall asleep as soon as your head touches pillow.

 The next morning, you wake up with a groan, stretching your limbs but not quite ready to get up out of your cocoon of blankets just yet. You settle by grabbing your phone to mindlessly scroll through your social media, as one does when they’re intent to make Sunday their designated lazy day. You’re surprised to see a notification for your iMessenger, a face you’re not used to seeing. It takes a moment for it to register as the guy you met yesterday, Mike.

 “Did you two get home alright?” was his written message in the chat box, sent at a time you knew you’d been passed out in the sleep. You do him the courtesy to text back with an apology on the delayed response and that yes, you and Jaehee did make it home safely.

 You go on to open up your other apps, scrolling through your feed, which helps you wake yourself up, more often than not finding BTS content related things. You stop on a video clip compilation of Jimin laughing till he disappears out of frame and it makes you grin. How can someone so cute exist? You hit the ‘like’ button and as you proceed to scroll more, your thoughts shift to the next thing related to said idol.

 Speaking of, you wonder if your demon guardian Jimin-lookalike is back.

 You swivel your head as best you could but find not so much as whiff of the usual lavender and vanilla scent that never fails to follow him.

 Huh….

 You get out of bed eventually, making your way to the kitchen to fix yourself breakfast and find that the house is…uncharacteristically quiet.

 No, it’s always been this quiet. You correct yourself, because it’s true…or was true. Before….

 You huff a sigh, exasperated. Get your thoughts straight girl.

 You continue with your day, making up for the lazing around you missed. Every once in a while, your phone pings with a notification; another sent message by Mike. The conversation was nothing of interest, just more casual talks of what you’re doing and going off on that before the topic is changed, most often by Mike once you’ve ran out of things to say.

 It goes on like that for a couple more days. He messages first always, and you almost dutifully answer back out of courtesy. He truly does seem like a nice guy, polite and easy-going but as much as your conversations with him were good (at a least you think? There were times you’ve haven’t answered for days because you were being swamped with work and school but that still doesn’t deter him), they were still very surface level; not having gone past being ‘good acquaintances’…or more like ‘one-sided good acquaintances’ because you think you know more about him than he does you.

 However, as the days drag on, you find your interest in Mike fading altogether as more other pressing thoughts start to occupy your mind, creeping in and growing like mold.

 Where is your guardian demon?

 Jimin did say the meeting might take more than a few days but it’s almost been more than a week since he’d left. Do meetings in hell usually take this long? More so, why hasn’t the bastard texted you at all? He’s supposed to be your guardian and right now he’s technically neglecting his end of the contract.

 Wait, what are you saying?  

 You flail your limbs in frustration, lying in bed in the middle of the night. You had told yourself that you were going to be a decent human being and go to sleep at normal people time because you’re absolutely beat from the week’s work but instead of drifting off like you thought you would, you ended up reflecting back on the events and had come full circle to the one being who should’ve been your least concerned. 

 Even when he’s not physically there, he still manages to wiggle his way into your thoughts. Unbelievable.

 You drift off eventually, stubbornly muting any train of thoughts that somehow always seem to lead back to him. You wake up a little on the groggy side, as if you haven’t slept at all but it’s the weekend again so you’re not bothered in rushing to get up. Grabbing your phone, you tap it awake to find a message notification.

 Your heart races for a quick second before impassively dropping once your foggy mind has registered the name; it’s Mike. No devil…or demon to be spoken of here. The message preview looks like a good morning text and the beginnings of asking what are you up to and you don’t quite make it that far before brushing it away from the screen; you’ll answer later.

 You mosey along with your day contently, taking time to eating breakfast then getting lost on Youtube (to which you, without fail, ended up watching a bunch of BTS related videos from Vlives to Run episodes to Bangtan Bombs) and even being productive like getting ahead of your studies (though you literally spent a little under fifteen minutes on it but hey, progress is progress).

 It’s around late evening when Jaehee comes knocking on your door, phone in hand once again and a yet another proposition.

 “Hey, wanna head out for dinner with me, Jason and Mike tonight?”

 You blink back at her from your nest of pillows and blankets much like an owl, not giving her an immediate response. She stares right back at you and it would seem like you two were having a silent conversation but you have a sneaking feeling that Jaehee can already see your brain working through all the pros and cons of saying yes or no like you’re Doctor Strange seeing all the possible alternative universes in which to defeat Thanos.

 “Where to exactly?” You ask after a while with slight trepidation.

 “That new Korean BBQ place that just opened up.”

 Damn.

 She’s got you beat. You’ve been eyeing that place for a while now but just never had the time or occasion to go. Not only was it the first branch to finally open here from being exclusively abroad for so long, but the restaurant is only a few blocks down the street from where you and Jaehee live; a true miracle because you had always figured such a popular restaurant would be located more towards downtown (which meant having to commute via subway, ugh).

 And God must’ve cursed you with a gluttonous vice because your stomach rumbles like it had a say in whether you’re going or not, and by the looks of it, you most certainly are.

 So with a defeated sigh, and knowing that Jaehee most likely heard your traitorous stomach even from your doorway, you agree. 

 The two of you meet up with your companions at the restaurant since they were coming from the downtown area so this way it would be more convenient. Jaehee greets the boys enthusiastically, whereas you wave casually, more subdued.

 “Hey, Y/N! It’s been a while since we saw each other.” Mike smiles as he comes up to you. 

 “Uh, yeah it has huh?” You shift a little in place, but you hurriedly follow after Jaehee and Jason who’s already stepped into the restaurant to grab a table. Jason of course, slides in on the bench side with Jaehee…. Which leaves you and Mike on the chairs across. You inwardly sigh out in exasperation. You just want to get through dinner eating the most Korean BBQ you can and with as little small talk as possible.

 To your relief, it wasn’t difficult to do once the food starts rolling out and the grill starts sizzling. For the most part, it works because food is always a great distraction but then the drinks starts pouring and you’d be lying if you said you weren’t totally in love with grapefruit flavoured soju now. Luckily, most conversations stay group oriented and Jaehee takes the lead in most of them, so you bounce off of her topics to make it easier for you to not get stuck conversing with just Mike. 

 As the eating comes to an end and drinks only remain however, you’re left with very little to defend yourself with.

 “So did you see the new Venom movie?” Mike asks you with what you could assume was a playful nudge but all it does is nearly make you slosh your drink. You try not to let the annoyance show on your face as you strain to smile back. 

 “Ah, yeah I did. I watched it online.” You say off-handedly before downing your drink, the sweetness of grapefruit hiding the usual rubbing alcohol burn of the soju, making it far too easy to swallow. You muse absently about how dangerous that can be. 

 “What? Why didn’t you see it in theatres? It was a great movie!”

 It wasn’t that great. But it wasn’t that bad either. You think to yourself but you’re not in the mood to having an extensive discussion with him, head beginning to slightly throb, so you settle to just shrug.

 “I didn’t feel like it. Also, didn’t really have the time.” 

 “Hey, then when we get the chance, maybe we should go see one together.” Mike suggests. You’re about to give a reply that would underlie a soft let down or at least to not get his hopes up when Jaehee exclaims rather excitedly at the suggestion.

 “Oh my god yeah! We should! It’s been so long since I’ve actually went to see a movie in theatres.” 

 “I swear we went to one not too long ago…” Jason comments, trailing off as his thinks back on it.

 “That was in summer, and now it’s winter.” Jaehee turns back to you and Mike in front of her, her excitement not seeming to die down anytime soon as she blurts out a little too loudly. “It can be like a double date!”

 You nearly choke on the soju you’ve been sipping, covering it up hastily with the loud clearing of your throat and decidedly placing the glass down to reach for the cup of cold water instead. 

 “Woah you okay?” You feel Mike’s hand on your shoulder; the sudden contact makes your arm flinch in surprise. You hurriedly gulp down the water, letting the coolness wash over the rough patch in your throat before mustering up a stiff smile in assurance.

 “Y-Yeah, no, I’m fine! Just…. went down the wrong pipe is all.” Your voice comes out hoarse and you cough again to clear it, chuckling nervously. Jaehee laughs as if you just hadn’t nearly choked to death, though she refills your cup of water generously.

 “You need to slow down with that soju. Is it really that good?”

 “Yeah!” You jump on the chance to direct your attention elsewhere, “Really good! I like, almost finished this bottle by myself!” You forcefully laugh; feel your cheeks start to heat up, whether from said alcohol or embarrassment. You start to wonder belatedly if you should check with a mirror to see if you’ve gone as red as you usually do when drinking (boy would that be even more embarrassing!).

 “You know what, I need to go to the washroom. Be right back!” You hurriedly excuse yourself, the chair wobbling as you get up with a stumble.

 “Oh! I’ll come with you!” Jaehee volunteers as she jumps up from her seat, grabbing your arm and dragging you to the ladies’ room. After a quick trip of emptying your bladder, you finally get a look at your reflection as you wash your hands. You’re relieved to find that you’re not completely red, just the slightest shade of pink peeking through your foundation. You note with satisfaction of how high coverage it is.

 “Hey, Y/N!” Jaehee calls cheerfully to you as she steps out of her cubicle with a flush. She comes to stand next to you, bumping your hips before lathering her hands with soap and water.

 “What?” You ask more concentrated in your attempts at patting away some of the oiliness on your nose and chin.

 “I think Mike is really into you.” Jaehee teases, a sneaky smile sent your way but you’re not as amused by the idea as she is. You wrinkle your nose, face scrunching in the mirror in front of you.

 “Um, what makes you so sure about that?”

 “Don’t tell him I told you, but Mike messaged me before we headed out tonight. He said you and him have been hitting it off pretty well.” 

 You furrow your eyebrows because that’s not how you see it and you express that much. Jaehee gives you a look that says she thinks otherwise.

 “The guy’s just super nervous around you. He really wants to get to know you better. Hell, if I wasn’t seeing Jason, I would go for him.” You can see her efforts in trying to get you to sympathize and though you don’t have much to argue against Mike because he really does seem like a nice guy and hasn’t done anything wrong, you don’t feel…. a connection. At all.

 “I mean he’s nice…. I guess? And like we talk, but I just don’t really feel anything? I don’t know….” You reply half mumbling distractedly, not really knowing how to explain but also finding that you don’t really care.

 “Is it because of that other guy who saved you?”

 You swear the speed in which you turn to Jaehee nearly knocks you off your own feet, heart thudding loudly against your ribcage that you have no time to discern if it’s from the alcohol or the thought of your Jimin impostor guardian demon.

 “W-What? Um, no! He’s—We’re not— I mean there’s nothing between us!” You get out, voice raising a little too high that it startles some other ladies who walked in. You shrink back as Jaehee lets out cackles and gives a hearty smack to your back, jerking you forward from the force. She startles you again by abruptly stopping midway to dramatically gasp, eyes wide and gleaming in a way that makes you nervous because inebriated Jaehee is often times too brash and too impulsive for her own good.

 “What if you just…. talk to him?” 

 “Who? Ji—?“ You almost make the mistake of saying his name aloud but you had lit Jaehee to cover for you, even if it was unintentional. 

 “Mike! You need to talk to him…alone.” She cuts you off, like it’s the most obvious thing in the world. 

 “I— I don’t get it…?” 

 “You need to get a feel for him in person! And this is only the second time you’ve met and it’s always with me and Jason! No wonder you’re not connecting properly!” 

 “H-Huh?” You’re slow on the follow up because you thought you were still talking about Jimin?

 “I’ll tell you what!” Jaehee laser focuses on you and instinctively, your shoulder hunches up to brace for impact. “Why don’t I leave with Jason so we could give you some alone time?”

 You blink in disbelief and Jaehee pouts at your lack in response. 

 “C’mon, Y/N! How about just…thirty minutes? Yeah, thirty minutes! If you’re not feeling him even then…. then you can leave and I’ll never speak of it again."

 You think that’s about as good as it’s going to get with Jaehee and your mind processes and contemplates it as well. It’s not ideal but you don’t see any harm in chatting a guy one on one for thirty minutes, if it means you could say at least you tried and it’ll put this entire thing to rest once and for all.

 “Okay, fine.” You sigh out with reluctance. “Thirty minutes but that’s it.”

 Jaehee squeals and nods obviously pleased and with one last fluff to her hair, she pulls you out of the washroom and back to your table. Jason and Mike are unsurprisingly chatting it up and having a great time with each other (so much so that you think ruefully that maybe they should be left alone). But at yours and Jaehee’s approach, their attention is drawn, both shooting smiles.

 “Oh you’re finally back.” Jason remarks, “We got another bottle of grapefruit soju since it’s pretty good.” He picks up the green bottle to give it a shake. Jaehee however, makes to pull him up and out of his seat. He follows obediently, although a bit puzzled.

 “Oh sorry, I just remembered I have something to give you Jason so we need to get going.” Jaehee smiles blindingly, cheeks puffing up and eyes creasing as she continues to tug at Jason. “But hey, how about Mike and Y/N finish the bottle? We’ll get the bill this time, our treat! So you just take your time okay?"

 “Oh, uh, sure? If that’s okay?” Mike shifts his eyes to you as you awkwardly shuffle over to make way for the other couple. Your eyes dart to him, a nervous laugh bubbling past your lips as you rub your neck.

 “Y-Yeah, thanks Jaehee…Jason... No worries... I like grapefruit soju….”

 “Great! Then we’ll get going, it was nice seeing you again Mike! Bye Y/N, text me!” And before you know it, Jaehee zips off with Jason in tow and mentally you brace yourself; no doubt that this will probably be the longest thirty minutes of your life.

 Okay, Y/N relax. Just have a casual talk with this guy for thirty minutes and then you can leave and go to sleep. It’s not that deep. You think to yourself as you slide into the bench seat across from Mike who cracks open the bottle and graciously fill your glass for you. You take it with a smile and as he raises his up for you to clink against, you do so before downing it without hesitation, the drink still chilled enough that it seems to cool your nerves.

 Your conversations with Mike were as you had predicted; nothing of interest to note. You talked movies; about the food you just ate which lead to food preferences to other interests that you don’t go too in depth with (at least on your behalf, Mike doesn’t seem shy on talking about how he’s really into cars). 

 Eventually, you make the conscious decision of stopping yourself from taking anymore shots of soju because you realized by the second and a half glass, you’re starting to faintly feel the creeping affects of the alcohol, a light misting of inebriation blanketing your mind causing you to find it difficult to recall how much time has passed. So when Mike had offered to refill your glass, you politely decline. The bottle was still a little more than halfway done, and though Mike attempts to get you to help him out, you were steadfast in sobering up by the time you get to leave.

 Besides, the alcohol is starting to mess with your sense of judgment in which you can actually feel the deterioration of a rather vital thing to your conscious; a filter.

 Which brings you to eyeing your phone surreptitiously from under the table, what should’ve been just a peek to read Jaehee’s text reminding you to call her if you needed anything, turned into a rapidly growing curiosity of ‘what-ifs’ that involve a certain demon.

 What if you just…talk to him?

 You’re hearing Jaehee’s words echo in your head, though you swear somewhere in the back of your mind they’re way out of context. But the point of it remains; what would happen if you were to send a text to him? Would he be annoyed? Would he text back? Hell, you don’t even know if he’s still alive! What if his boss was unsatisfied with his work and just straight up burned him to a crisp with the infernal flames of hell?! Oh my god! Why haven’t you thought of that before?! Now it’s been over a week since you’ve last heard of him you’re so stupid—!

 “Hey, Y/N!” 

 “…Huh? Oh? Sorry did you say something?”

 Mike, who stares at you with a rather glazed look, pulls you from irrationally making one direct call to hell. A quick glance at the soju bottle tells you he’s made good work on it, coming down to the last glassful. A little pink in the face but he still looks way better than you would if you'd down that much soju. 

 “I was askin’ if you had a boyfriend.”

 Oh.

 “Um…’s been a while; got too busy with school and work.” 

 “So…do I have a chance with you?”

 …. HUH?

 You freeze, doing a double take. “W-What?”

 “You know, a chance to be with you…"

 Okay so you didn’t hear wrong. That still doesn’t mean you know how to respond to that appropriately. You didn’t want to hurt him because you’re sure it’s liquid courage that’s making him ask this, also the fact that he hasn’t done anything to upset you.

 “Aha…whoa uh,” You flounder through a nervous laugh because you’d rather get some sort of response out instead of remain silent. “I uh, I…dunno…?” 

 “What’s not to know?” He asks rather boldly and you’re completely taken aback. “I thought we had somethin’ goin’ on.” 

 “H-Hey, I think you’re a nice guy, but I don’t think I'm really looking for a relationship right now. I’m sorry if I lead you on somehow.” 

 “So would you ever love me?”

 Now you’re speechless, can’t really believe just how fast things have snowballed that it almost has your mind sobering up in an instant. You’ve tried your best to let him down gently but it’s like it’s not getting through to him. Perhaps you should take it as a sign as your cue to leave.

 “Uhh…I think I should go. You should go too! It’s…late. It’s been nice.” You slide out from the other side, clutching at your purse and phone. Your heart’s pounding in your chest again and you can feel it pulsing in your ear too. You fumble with shaky fingers to type in your phone’s lock code, getting it wrong twice before getting it right to tap on Jaehee’s number. You press the phone close to your ear, letting the dial tone ring as your feet take you out of the restaurant and onto the streets. The chilly night air does wonders in further clearing your mind but it also makes you painfully aware of how hot your face still feels.

 “Hey Y/N! How’s the date going?” Jaehee’s cheery voice comes through after the third ring. 

 “H-Hey Jaehee! Uh..um…I wouldn’t say well…? He might have had too much to drink so he sorta—“ You’re speed walking in the direction of your home, completely tunnel visioning so you fail to notice a pair of heavy footsteps fast approaching you from behind. A force almost knocks you over; you stumble forward in a mess of legs, fighting to stay upright the same time you feel your phone being ripped out of your grasp.

 “Jaehee? Is that you? Y-Yeah everythin’s okay! I’m okay! Y/N’s takin’ me home now, drank too much haha! She’s just lettin’ ya know! Yeah, yeah no don’t worry! Okay bye!” 

 By the time you’ve righted yourself, Mike’s hung up on Jaehee with the bullshit he’s spewed. You’re absolutely livid when you turn on him with a glare so piercing you’d think Jimin would be proud.

 “What's wrong with you?!” You yell out, trying to snatch your phone back but Mike who’s significantly taller than you, easily keeps it at bay with minimal effort. It only makes you fly more into a blinding rage.

 “W-Wait! Let’s head back to my place and chill?”

 “Like hell I would! Give me back my phone!” 

 “At least walk with me to the subway?” 

 You’re heaving with effort, energy exerted from your fail attempts at getting your phone and your pause to catch your breath must’ve made him think you were going to agree to his request because he’s looking at you hopefully. You wanted to laugh in his face but you’d rather face the devil himself at this point than be with this guy for another minute.

 “I’ll call you an Uber! Now give me my phone!” You seethe.

 “C’mon Y/N, don’t be like that. I’ve been nice to you so can you at least—“

 You swear steam is coming out of your ears at this point, your hands shaking at the audacity and just when you’ve locked in your choice to rugby tackle him with all your body mass, another voice cuts through the both of you.

 “I do believe the young lady said no.” His drawl is a bone-chilling calm that you could almost feel the temperature drop even further by it. 

 Under the flickering street lamp’s light, you catch a wisp of black smoke; the tendrils trail before fading out of sight over Mike’s shoulder. You follow it up until you reach Mike’s hand — the one holding your phone — where you see extra digits wrapped firmly around his wrist, nails digging into the skin. Mike’s head whips behind him alarmed, to reveal the shockingly beautiful face you’ve come to know.

 Jimin stands unperturbed behind Mike who visibly struggles against his hold, even when Jimin is at least a good inch shorter than him. His face an inscrutable mask and eyes swirling a deep garnet, the only thing betraying his utter displeasure.

 “H-Hey what the fuck man! Who are—ARGH!!” Mike’s exclamations turns into a howl of pain at the sounds of a crack, hand dropping your phone to which Jimin smoothly catches and lets him crumple to the ground to cradle his wrist. You step back to avoid being in his line of falling, mouth gaping and trying to catch up with what just happened. So far, you’ve only registered that Jimin is here.

 “Darling you’ll catch flies if you keep that up.” Jimin tuts, stepping over Mike’s curled up body. He takes your hand and places your phone in it and you’re in such disbelief that you nearly drop it. He still looks immaculate as ever, dressed in an all black except this time he’s wearing a cozy looking turtleneck under a leather jacket and fitted jeans. His hair is styled in the usual way it is — coiffed with a few strands hanging over his forehead with such volume that it made you envious— but you’re shocked to see that it was no longer plain silver; there’s a blueish tint to it now. The sight mesmerizes you.

 Jimin goes to say something teasing, you just know it as you see the upturn corner of his mouth but before he can get it out, a shuffling and a grunt from behind makes his face drop back into the frighteningly stony mask again, plush lips drawn into a line. You see Mike stumble to his feet, still clutching at his wrist while trying to burn a hole into the back of Jimin’s head. 

 It was then that you realize that Mike, a human much like yourself, is staring directly at Jimin and now that you think about it, he had also addressed Jimin when he first appeared just as he does now.

 “W-Who the fuck do you think you are?!” Mike growls. Jimin merely scoffs; you don’t need to see his face to know he’s probably rolled his eyes. But instead of addressing the angry man, Jimin slaps on a benevolent smile your way and begins to usher you.

 “Come darling, you must be cold standing out here and we really ought to get—“ He cuts himself off by reaching up and catching a flying fist aimed at him. You gasp out in shock at the speed and the suddenness of Mike actually having the balls to try to throw a punch. Eyes wide, you look up to gauge Jimin’s reaction to find that yes, he looks pissed; jaw clenched and eyes burning with hellfire itself.

 You let out a surprise yelp as Jimin clamps down on Mike’s fist and with little effort, flips him and begins to drag him off, heading to an alley concealed by shadows. You scurry after him after snapping out of your initial shock, panicked and stuttering out words incoherently because you are not going to have another dead body on your conscious, at least not someone who you actually knew no matter how douche-y he turned out to be.

 “I’ll break your other wrist, and then your legs, and then your neck. And if you want a tour of hell, come back three more times.” You hear Jimin spit out between gritted teeth, but you highly doubt it got through to Mike who’s too busy writhing, screaming and cursing from the ground.

 “Jimin! Wait, I said no killing! Jimin! Hey, you jerk! Listen to me!” You had to yell over Mike’s voice, wondering how it is that you guys haven’t woken up the whole neighbourhood yet as you push against Jimin’s very firm chest to get him to halt in his tracks.

 “Sweetie, not now. I need to enact the Lord’s good graces and teach this petulant human some manners.” 

 “That does not make any sense! And—SHUT UP!” The incessant yelling from Mike finally gets to you, having heard enough of his voice for the night as you impulsively deliver an adrenaline filled kick to his face. He knocks out immediately.

Jimin drops his hold on Mike’s fist with an unceremonious thump, bewildered. “Way to kill steal from me, pumpkin.”

 You gasp loudly, nerves shaken from what you just did and what Jimin has just told you as a new wave of rising panic sets in. “O-Oh my god did I actually kill him?! Is he dead?! I didn’t mean—!”

 Your demon guardian throws his head back, a boisterous laughter escaping him as he folds in on himself. You jump back startled and could only stare on in silent horror because of course he would find this funny and would be of no help!

 “J-Jimin! This isn’t funny! What are we gonna do now?!” 

 “Relax darling…” He finally wheezes out, straightening himself up while wiping the corner of his eyes. “He’s not dead, unfortunately; just K.O’ed by a swift kick to the face. Probably broke his nose though so good job on that.” 

 You gape like a fish out of water and all he does is stare back at you with the lingering traces of a fond smile that has your traitor of a heart skipping a beat. Damn him!

 “You—!” You start, huffing and puffing and though words escape you, your fists don’t as you land a hit on his chest. He takes it with little resistant, relenting himself as you let out your pent up frustrations. “You stupid jerk and your pretty stolen face! Just showing up like you own the place without even saying anything to me for more than a week! And then let some other stupid jerk try to get a jump on me! Some guardian demon you are! I could’ve just handled it all myself!” 

 You tire yourself out by the time you’re done your tirade, strength leaving your arms as they slap uselessly against the leather of his jacket until you stop altogether. Jimin’s quiet, the quietest you think he’s ever been. You refuse to make eye contact with him, staring determinedly down on his shiny black loafers but instead of some snarky comment about owing him for using him as a punching bag, you hear a shuffle of movement and then something heavy drapes over your shoulder, a waft of all too familiar vanilla lavender smell easing whatever remaining tension left in your body.

 Your gaze automatically whips up to his. He busies himself securing the jacket to you before his eyes wander to meet yours; the soft brown colour that stares back comforts you.

 “You’ve had a rough night darling, and I’m sorry I wasn’t there. So I’ll forgive you for beating up my Saint Laurent jacket and we’ll call it even?” 

 For a moment, you thought of scowling him and his love for name brand things but all you really want to do now is go home and fall asleep, so you nod softly, giving in. Jimin lets out a quiet chuff of amusement, hand coming up to stroke your hair with a gentleness that has your heart aching with the disgruntlement that you do miss having him by your side.

 “Y/N!” A shout freezes you up like cold water being dumped over your head as you whip towards the source of the call. To your astonishment, you see a familiar face running towards you, her figure unmistakable and as she draws nearer, you can see clearly who it is.

 It’s Jaehee.

 She slows to a stop, panting heavily from how hard she must’ve ran, shoulders slumped as she braces herself on her knees but even then she’s still trying to muster out words in between gasps of breath. “You called and….suddenly Mike was on the phone! Saying how he drank too much? That you were taking him home! And I just…I had such a bad feeling I had to… Are you okay?!”

 Jaehee makes to lunge at you but stops midway as she finally notices your frozen, wide eyed appearance and you see with pinpoint accuracy the way her eyes trail from your face to your shoulders to the extra hand on your shoulder all the way up to Jimin who is quite at a loss for words as well. 

 You watch with baited breath as she squints up at him with a gaze so fixated on analyzing him, a myriad of emotions flitting across her own face before she utters.

 “Have I…seen you from somewhere?”

#park jimin x reader #jimin x reader #bts demon au #bts fics #jimin fic #park jimin fic #park jimin fluff #bts jimin fic #bts jimin scenarios #bts jimin scenario #jimin #jimin fluff #jimin x you #jimin fics #jimin fanfic #park jimin fanfic #bts au #bts fluff #bts fanfic #bts supernatural au #park jimin scenarios #jimin reader insert #jimin x reader insert

[sugugori]

Tiny Dancer

Authors note: I apologize for the cringiness that this post radiates. It's my first time writing anything so I'm very new. Plus it's 6:18 AM and I'm very sleep deprived. Don't treat me with kid gloves because I know this sucks. :,)

Summary: Shawn only expected to pick up his snot-nosed girlfriend of 4 weeks. Instead, he meets a beauty who's name is unknown by him.

Warnings: None (besides the cringe)

Word Count: 1,055

Sweaty. She’s sweaty. Y/N has been at the dance studio for 4 hours with her dance partner Lew, coming up with new choreography to teach their class next week. Switching between serious dance numbers to messing around during breaks. Lew walks over to his phone to resume their music, ending their much-needed break.

“Alright I have a few more ideas of what we could do. Why don’t we just pick it up from the top and we’ll figure it out as we go, yeah?” Lew exhales breathily, still panting after these long, four hours. Y/N nods not able to speak without choking on her words. Y/N has been dancing since she was simply around 5. Watching Lady Gaga let go on stage had its perks. At first, it was simply prancing around in costumes until her passion found its way to the surface and it became more. She worked hard to get where she was and she was proud of herself.

Shawn was on his way to pick up his girlfriend of 4 weeks from dance rehearsals. The two met at his best friends, Brian’s, wedding. Brian told Shawn he had someone he’d like Shawn to meet and introduced him to Laureline. Laureline and Shawn hit it off. Sure, she came off as rude sometimes but Shawn could easily look past that. They started seeing each other more and after about the eighth day, they made it official.

Of course, Shawn had to deal with the criticism of his friends questioning him. Apparently, to them, you date someone after eight days and it’s “too fast”.

Shawn pulls up to the dance studio following the address Laureline sent him earlier. Unbuckling his seatbelt, he looks up just in time to see a flash of cappuccino colored hair flash by through the window of the front building. And in a blink it’s gone. He shakes it off and climbs out of the car, making his way inside.

Wandering down the halls his ears perk up at the sound of laughter coming from his right. It can’t be Laureline, he’s made her laugh several times and it’s never sounded like this. This laughter sounded vibrant. He felt as if it belonged to someone he needed to get to know. He couldn’t get enough of it. So, In a brilliant moment of confidence he wonders in the room of the source and the sight is unexpected. A guy, he’d make out to be about 20, lies on the ground clutching his stomach. Cackles fall out his open mouth as he continues to hold onto himself for support. Finally Shawn looks up and he swears he’s never seen someone so beautiful. Y/Ns eyes are closed so tightly, the skin around her eyes are crinkled as she smiles. Shawn doesn’t think she’s breathing as she laughs so hard and the only thing that comes out in between chuckles is airy breaths. He feels a soft smile make its way to his face and he can’t stop it. He doesn’t even realize how long he’s stood there until he’s snapped out of his daze by the softest voice speaking.

“You were supposed to let go!” Y/N exclaims to a limp Lew still lying on the ground. Her laugh was like if melted hazelnut chocolate could talk. Smooth, silky and sickeningly sweet. His presence still goes unnoticed by both. “Yeah but I’m scared.” He quietly explains. Shawn watched the two interact and suddenly feels as if he’s intruding. Before he can turn around and search for who he was looking for in the first place, a small voice stops him.

“Hey! You need something? Or are you lost?” He turns to meet hickory eyes as rich as the earth soil. For a second he got lost in those deep pools of dark cinnamon and he can see the sweetness of saccharine chocolate. Speechless. Shawn’s speechless. These eyes weren’t anything like Laurelines and he curses at himself for the thought. Suddenly remembering about the girlfriend, he goes to explain himself, and possibly ask for help, but a high pitched voice cuts him off. “Baby! What are doing in here? I was waiting for so long.” Laureline rounds the corner and her manicured hands come up underneath his shirt to scratch the skin of of his stomach. Shawn thinks he’s supposed to find comfort in the simple gesture but all he can think about is why he’s so disappointed for the moment that was ruined. He feels the eyes of the curly headed beauty, but can’t bring it in him to look up. So he shifts his gaze to Laureline, who’s already giving a death stare to the mystery girl. That doesn’t sit too right with Shawn. So, he hurriedly grabs Laurelines hand, softly apologizes to the girl he’s sure he’ll never see again and makes a beeline towards the door.

Y/N slowly turns back around to Lew, her hands in the air as of to say, “ok that was weird”. Lew laughs and just shrugs, ready to go back to dancing for another four excruciating hours. But as Y/N gets in position, she can’t help but let her mind wander back to the tall beautiful boy. And how his honey eyes glistened when she met them with her own. She couldn’t help but think about how for the first time in years, she was speechless. She couldn’t help but think about how she never got this gorgeous boys name and she definitely tries not to think about how that disappoints her. She wonders if she’ll ever see him again.

#shawn mendes #shawn mendes angst #shawn mendes smut #shawn imagine #sorry guys

[artificialqueens]

5 times Cracker and Brooke broke it off, and 1 time they didn't (Miz Cracker x Brooke Lynn Hytes) - fandomfeministe

A/N: I’m a sucker for a 5+1 fic, and this seemed a good place to start. Thanks to Saiph again for all your help and indulging me in this nonsense! I had such fun with it that if I get any more ideas, more of them might come along…

The line about the pomeranian came from a conversation with Veronica. That laugh is all hers <3

When they got caught out by Kameron

A near-winded gasp for air was the sound that first got Kameron’s attention.

“Oh… god…keep going,” said a familiar voice, a desperate, high-pitched whine threaded through the begging, accompanied by breathless panting that was the sign of someone clearly being given a good time by someone. Kameron, passing by his friend’s dressing room and spotting the slightly opened door, smirked a little as he approached, about to subtly close it before texting Brooke Lynn that she could thank him later. He was just about to wrap his hand around the doorknob before a second speaker became audible, stopping the eavesdropper in his tracks.

“Sssh, I’m repaying the favour, aren’t I? Be fuckin’ patient!” laughed the second man, whose voice was also familiar - so familiar, in fact, that Kameron could picture his face, the corners of his brown eyes wrinkled in laughter before he carried on doing… oh. His own eyes widened, recognising that it was his Season 10 sister, apparently in some kind of encounter with his sister from Tennessee. What the fuck?

Hating himself for feeling like a voyeur but kind of dying to see what was happening, Kameron carefully leaned forward, looking through the gap. There, he could see that his assumptions were right - Cracker on his knees before Brooke Lynn. The former’s hands were holding back the latter��s skirts, dark head confidently bobbing up and down while the blonde’s head tilted back, lipsticked mouth hanging open as the moans began to build. Still confused as to how the fuck these two had ended up this way - especially as they’d clearly been so keen to get started that Brooke’s only move towards de-dragging was getting untucked - a mischievous moment came over their mutual friend with a look on his face to match. With one swift movement, Kameron shut the door loud enough to cause the two men inside to yelp in surprise before he made his escape, being a safe fifteen feet down the corridor and around a corner before pulling out his phone, including both queens’ numbers in a text.

“Don’t be too mad, bitches. Really. It could’ve been Eureka that caught you going at it.”

2. When Bob couldn’t stop laughing

“Hytes? Seriously, bitch?”

Cracker and his drag mother were hanging out at his own place in Harlem, back from the tour where he and his Canadian lover had already tried to break it off once. After Kameron had caught them - and wasted no time in letting them know about it - he and Brooke Lynn had lasted a grand total of a week before falling back into bed round about the time of their gig in Paris, where their night off in the clubs of Montmartre had apparently been quite the aprodiasiac. Even now that they were back in the US, and in whole different time zones, let alone states, things between them hadn’t exactly gone back to PG13. In fact, at this very moment, Cracker was sitting through Bob’s uproarious laughter with the knowledge that Brooke had been sending progressively more filthy text messages all afternoon, and he was wondering what the hell he was going to actually find once he had the chance to check his phone after Bob left.

“I mean, fuck, what is she? 6’1? 6’2? It must be like a pomeranian fucking a Great Dane!” the larger man cackled, laughter ringing off the walls in the small apartment.

Cracker bristled slightly, raising an eyebrow as he looked at his friend. “6’3. And original, Bob, really fuckin’ original. I don’t seem to recall you complaining about it when we were together.”

Bob, seeing the look on his daughter’s face, took a couple of breaths, still giggling a little before eventually settling. “Alright, alright, I’ll drop it. I mean, clearly you got a fucking type, or a complex, but I’ll drop it.” He paused, though, looking more serious this time.

“For real, though, whatever this -” he gestured between the two of them - “is with you guys, you’ve got to think fast about whether it’s worth it. Because if Michaels knows, and I know… who else does? How long’s it going to be before someone tells Vanjie?”

Cracker’s face fell.

“Oh, shit.”

3. When Vanjie found out

Telling Vanjie was not a fun time.

It wasn’t as bad as it could have been, Brooke Lynn supposed, but it was still not an experience he would ever care to repeat.

He’d called him when he was in LA, suggested meeting for coffee as they often did, but even on the phone, his ex had been able to tell something was up.

“How long?” he’d asked, his foghorn voice unusually soft. When told the truth - that it had started on the European tour Vanjie hadn’t gone on - he almost snorted with laughter at the same time as looking plaintively at the man across from him. “Think I knew, deep down, you were ready to move on. Didn’t think it’d be with someone I knew so well, though.”

Brooke attempted to protest a little, said that he and Cracker were hardly enough of a thing for them to be considered as ‘moving on’ together, but Vanjie merely raised an eyebrow at him as first response. “Don’t you pull that crap with me. I know you both too well for that.”

“What do you mean?”

“You both put up walls and shit. Tried to be public, got hurt, shut down and never told nobody how you felt ‘bout anything since. You both got people saying you got no feelings, but you sure do. Both got so many of ‘em that you don’t know what to do with ‘em, so you act the ho and don’t show anybody what you really got going on. It’s hard for most folks to get that, when they try and give and don’t feel like they got anything back, but you two?” Vanjie shrugged before taking a sip of his coffee. “You two fuckers might actually understand each other.”

It was all Brooke could do to avoid freezing to the spot in panic.

“Oh shit.”

4. When The Vixen told a few home truths

If there was one thing anybody knew about The Vixen, it was that she didn’t pull any punches.

“Hytes? Are you fucking kidding?”

Cracker slid further down into her seat at the bar, visibly cringing at her friend’s vociferous response. “Raise your voice, why don’t you, bitch? There’s a few guys over by the restrooms who can’t hear you!”

“I don’t care!” The Vixen slammed her drink down on the bar, some of the clear liquid within sloshing out and over the sides. “Seriously, I didn’t have you pinned down as having such… such bland tastes.”

“Bland?” Cracker was clearly shocked, her mouth hanging open as she stared at her friend so hard that her eyes even bulged a little. “The hell? You’ve seen how he looks on stage. How he dresses on stage. Shit, some of those finale outfits had people practically drooling, and you call that bland?”

“Tall, blonde, white, polished, pageant queen,” Vixen responded succinctly, counting off each attribute on her fingers. “Tell me how that’s not part of the furniture in any part of the entertainment industry, Cracks. You could spit in the air at Miss Continental and nearly hit ten dudes like him. And you… you’ve always prided yourself on being different. On being weird. Comedy queens don’t usually go for the model girls. Especially when you’re both so…”

“So what?”

“So different.”

“Do you really think he shouldn’t be going for me? Or do you just resent the bitch because of your known thing for his ex?”

For once, The Vixen was stunned into silence. Cracker had slid off his chair, turned and stalked out of the bar before a feeble ‘fuck you’ could even begin to escape his lips.

5. When Nina got concerned

“What is this, an intervention for introverts?” Brooke joked as he walked into Nina’s hotel room with him, the older queen with a recognisably worried look on his face. Their gig had been over for hours, both were long out of drag, and now they were falling into their usual routine of a bitch fest before bed. Only this time, Brooke couldn’t help but feel as though Nina’s mama-bear routine was incoming, and began to steel himself in preparation for a talk about his feelings.

“No, darling, it’s not,” Nina replied with sympathy, sitting down in an armchair by the window after patting the one opposite, motioning for her friend to join her. “I do have some misgivings, though. Maybe you can help me figure it out.”

“About what?”

“You and Cracker.”

Brooke sighed. He’d known this was coming. “Oh, here we go…” the Canadian queen cringed, reaching up to massage his temple, a literal headache forming at the same time as this figurative one. “There’s nothing to have misgivings about. We had… are having… had a thing for a while. It was fun. That’s all there is to it.” He felt his neck warm up at the look on Nina’s face, his old friend sitting there with staring eyes and brows raised unusually, sceptically high. Yep, blushing. He was definitely blushing.

“If it’s nothing, you wouldn’t be stumbling for words.. And… you know the last time I saw you look like that? Like you’d found somebody to spend time with who mattered - mattered enough to make you look like a schoolboy with a crush?”

Don’t say it, Nina. Don’t say it, don’t say it…

“That would be Vanjie. And Brooke, I love you, you know that, but I’ve got to remind you how that turned out.’

Brooke winced, and Nina reached out to him, regretfully picking up a hand and squeezing.

“I don’t want to cause you any embarrassment, but for someone who projects and even dresses like a goddamn ice queen, when you fall, you fall hard. And with the speed this has all happened, yes, I’m concerned for you. I watched you take the heat when it all fell apart with Vanjie and I saw the pain you were in. It’s like the whole thing just shattered you, and I…”

Brooke’s own eyes widened in horror as his best friend choked, his throat constricted and voice trembling. “If that happened to you again, I don’t know that I could handle seeing you hurt. Because you, you’d take it on the chin but wall it all up inside, letting yourself get so fucking lonely…”

With a sudden pang of anguish, Brooke got out of his chair, squished in beside Nina and threw his arms around the older man’s neck, hugging him tight. His chest felt both tight and full to burst at the same time, feeling both pains of guilt and full of appreciation for his friend’s love. “What did I fucking do to deserve you, Nina?” he chuckled softly, resting his head against Nina’s, resting there quietly while he rubbed comforting circles on his back, thumb twisting into the fabric of his shirt.

They both sat there for a while, doing nothing but hold each other and listening to the sound of each other’s breathing. It was true that each queen acted like the other’s support animal, an old joke, but one with an element of truth to be sure. However, while the two men sat quietly, Brooke’s brain began to run overtime, anxiety letting each passing through pull at his brain with increasing agony. Vanjie had alluded to it when they’d broken up, that one day, he was going to feel the way Vanjie did at another man’s hands, and his lack of prior relationships meant that the pain might break him. Cracker might dwell on his reputation, or be afraid of getting into something as serious as there’d been with his ex-fiancé and bolt. Worse, what if he, Brooke, panicked… again? What if he let someone get close to him, fall for him, and be let down by him… again? What if he was responsible for Cracker being broken by a man who screwed him over… again? Brooke wasn’t sure if he could cope knowing that he’d destroyed not one, but two people he cared about. Three, he supposed, if he counted the thought of disappointing Nina.

God, he was such a fuckup.

When they realised it could actually turn out OK

It seemed to Cracker, as he lay there in Brooke Lynn’s arms, that neither one of them seemed to know how to escape the other. At his last count, they’d tried to break it off a whole five times - sometimes one, sometimes the other, sometimes both - and every time they’d found their way back to each other. It was almost as if they were a pair of magnets, drawn to each other so tightly that whenever they were separated, they ended up slamming right back towards each other, no choice but to deal with it, but the natural thing to do all the same.

He drew patterns on his lover’s taut arm muscles as he slept, feather light touches to match his own spirit. Watching him lying there, peaceful in his slumber, was weirdly soothing - not that Cracker quite understood why. Still, there they were, the smaller queen reluctant to move - not just because of the risk of disturbing Brooke’s rest, but because he too felt safe, strong arms keeping him held there.

He couldn’t help but smile as he watched Brooke’s eyes open slowly, the exhaustion writ large on his face as it tilted up to face him.

“Hey,” Brooke mumbled, his words muffled a little against Cracker’s shoulder. “Did I fall asleep?”

“Yeah, you did,” the other man replied fondly, kissing the top of his lover’s head. “Can’t say I blame you, though. You were being kept quite busy earlier…”

Brooke blushed a little, but grinned nonetheless. The memory of their afternoon together was definitely a happy one, full of laughter and mutual pleasure, ending up in a tangle of limbs under the covers. Their reunion, a good month and a half since they’d been at gigs anywhere near each other, had been more than needed. It was as if each was a human comfort blanket for the other, providing the security each other needed in their minds as well as their tired out bodies. Brooke himself had been surprised to feel this at first, but in a way, it made sense. They made sense. There wasn’t any pressure between them to be romantic, exclusive or any kind of fantasy - and in the greatest sense of irony, that had only made the Canadian happier to be in the arms of the Seattle-born queen.

It felt good to be understood. Understood was more important than anything to him.

“You know something?” he asked, prompting Cracker’s brown eyes to gaze into his.

“Mmm?”

“I think we’re gonna be OK.”

Crackler chuckled, then made an affectionate sound in the back of his throat as Brooke looked confused by his response. “No, I mean, I’m glad you think so… but what brought this on?” he asked, reaching around the pillow to twirl a finger into his blond hair.

Brooke shuffled a little so he could look at his lover properly, watching each emotion as it flickered across his face. “I’ve just been thinking… honesty between people in our position, it has to be a good thing, right?”

“Right.”

“I feel like… it’s easy to be honest. Like, that you’re going to get it, and I don’t have anything to be sick with worry about in telling you what I want. And that… that makes me happy, because… because I’m not forcing anything. This is me, this is what I want, and…” another pause, as he slid a hand down the other man’s back. “…I’m all in. Promise.”

A smile, eyes that crinkled at the edge and the gentle touch of Cracker’s lips on his was all the response he needed.

#rpdr fanfiction #miz cracker #brooke lynn hytes #brooke x cracker #fluff #angst #rare pair #fic challenge #fandomfeministe #(it's actually a courtney quote! -v) #canon compliant

[19umbrellas]

Villain I appear to be || Diego Hargreeves x Reader

Description: You were the eighth member of the infamous Umbrella Academy. Your adopted father, Reginald Hargreeves, had raised you and your seven other siblings to fight crime and stop evil, however, as you grew older you found yourself straining farther and farther away from the life of a hero your father always wanted you to be.

This will be a One-shot series or something? I don't really know what it's called. It's like, same title and concept but different stories and pairings per chapter. If that makes sense. ùwú

Pairing: Diego x Reader

Word Count: 2829

ONE-SHOT

Two security guards and their police dog stood at the entrance of the city's most extravagant art museums. CCTV cameras were looming over their heads, turning every so often in order to scan the vicinity for any threats or suspicious behavior.

This museum always had strict security staff since this building contained many priceless art pieces that are worth more than an entire town. Tonight, however, their usual security had increased tenfold because the museum had received a new contemporary piece from one of the world's most well-known artists. It was the newest piece from her and she decided to hold an unveiling party in this very building. She trusted the museum to protect her work and, for good measure, she hired her own defense against robbers.

She paid a good amount of money to a security agency lend her their best men to help protect her most valuable work. She was able to recruit fifteen highly trained soldiers and one special agent who she hired in secret. By nightfall, all the security guards were in their normal positions while the hired guns waited inside for an attack. The place was locked up tighter than most prisons. Even a rat couldn't get in without being shot or mauled by an aggressive German Shephard.

But of course, for you, this is nothing but childs play.

You were crouched on the roof, your entire body blended into the shadows except for your (e/c) eye as you observed the guards below. Scoffing when one of them jumped at the scampering fox. "This is the top of the line security Madame Sol was bragging on about?" you cringed as you shook your head, standing up and walking over to the edge. "Is she trying to mock me?" you silently jumped down behind the two security guards without them noticing. Their dog however instantly perked at the slight sound of your heels hitting the ground. You smirked as you crawled backwards and phased through the wall before the dog could turn around.

You looked up with awe at the architecture of the inside. The last time you were here, you were with your siblings trying to stop a group of thieves from stealing precious art. Oh, how time changes. You smiled to yourself as you took a quick look around before phasing inside one of the huge cylindrical pillars as two men wearing camo uniforms passes by. Once they were distant enough you slowly poked your head out and looked around. When the coast was clear you quietly sprinted out and strategically avoided all the cameras inside.

You pressed your back to the wall as you sneaked a glance over at the two men standing silently in front of a large wooden door. Humming in delight, you suppressed a soft giggle that went up your throat. "This will be fun." you said as you phased into the wall.

The two grunts stood attentively, their eyes glued to what was in front of them. Suddenly a buzz cut through the silence and a strong voice spoke through their radios. "Halpert, Scott, do you read me, over?" the voice said one of them took the radio into his hands and pressed the speak button. "Loud and clear, over." the voice came again. "I might need some back up down at the basement." he said. "I think I saw unauthorized personnel running around. Can one of you come over here, over." the two guards looked at each other and nodded. "I'll be right down, over." the one holding the radio walked away while the other guard stood at the center of their position, not even batting an eye.

After a few minutes, a loud rattling captured the guards attention and he quickly pointed his gun to one of the paintings. A portrait of a woman clad in a black veil was starting to shake violently as it's wooden frame banged on the wall. The guard slowly walked over and stopped in front of it. He inspected it for a minute before he pressed the gun's nose to the painting's frame making it stop moving. He was about to pull his gun away but suddenly a hand shot out of the painting and forcefully grabbed onto his face, covering his mouth as he screamed. (h/c) hair started to poke out as well until suddenly a head was floating right in front of his. The figures face was covered in her hair making her seem more menacing and scary. The guard was having a hard time processing what was happening and had a hard time moving his limbs due to shock and fear. You tilted your head upward a bit, showing him your eyes as you smirked and put a finger on your lips while saying, "Shh, the sun has set. It's time for bed.". The hand you used to cover his mouth suddenly emitted knock-out gas that quickly rendered the poor man unconscious.

You stepped out of the wall and fixed the glove on your hand that still had some fumes leaking out of it. You blew on the flat nozzle on your glove, pushing away all the remaining smoke before you grabbed a hold of the man and hid him in a dark corner. With that out of the way, you dusted your hands and skipped inside the door. "Most secure building in the city my ass." you mumbled cockily as you stood in front of the podium. The room was dark, and the only light source was coming from one spot light that shone above the beautiful ostrich egg that was purely mad with diamonds and other precious stones. You pursed your lips at the piece of art before approaching it. "Not your best work Madame."

You heard a click behind you as you felt a gun pressing to your back when your fingers brushed the luminous egg. "Step away from the egg and put your hands up." your eyes widened for a bit but your shock didn't last long. You chuckled as you turned around. "Congratulations." you said. "You're being very rude." before the man could react you gave him a swift kick on the head and knocked him out. You huffed and turned back to the art piece. "Alright, take two." you lifted up the egg from the bottom and examined it in the light. You mumbled the possible prices you could sell this at as you quietly marveled at its colors.

"So you're the special agent Madame hired?" you suddenly said aloud before placing the egg inside the small messenger bag that you brought with you. "Don't even bother throwing one off your precious knives at me, I'll probably just catch it." You looked to the side as a familiar man walked into the light. Diego crossed his arms. "Haven't heard from you in awhile (y/n). I was scared you might have gotten killed in a dirty alleyway or something." he said sarcastically. You laughed dryly, not taking your eyes off of his hands that both held double-sided knives. "Sorry, Diego, I just didn't have time to call is all. Work has been really hectic lately. You understand, don't you?" you said as you slowly walked backwards but Diego took a step forward everytime you did. "You got dad really worried, you know." he gave you a look when you let out a cackle. "When did you start to care how the old bastard thought?"

"Ever since he told me what you've been doing this past few years." Before you could say anything Diego already threw one of his knives at you but you were able to catch it with ease. You sighed in annoyance as you threw the knife in front of him. "It's been a long night Diego. I don't want to fight you." you said but Diego was already in a fighting stance as he cracked his neck. "Too bad." he lunged towards you and you blocked his fists before it made contact with your body. The two of you fought gracefully around the room, Diego moving more on the offense while you just tried to block all of his blows.

After a while, it didn't look like Diego was backing down and you were starting get impatient. With a strong kick to the stomach you were able to push him a fair amount of distance away from you and you booked it to the nearest wall. As you were about to phase shift you felt your bag tear open and the egg roll on the floor. You stopped and looked down, Diego's knife was pierced on the wall in front of your messenger bag. You huffed and quickly tried to get the egg back but Diego already tackled you to the ground, pinning your arms next to your head. You struggled under his grip but he his hands were too tight and he had pinned both your legs as well.

You huffed in defeat as you finally stopped your squirming and glared daggers at him. "Gotcha." he smirked. "What are you going to do now?" he asked mockingly and your only frown deepened... until an idea popped into your head. "That was a good fight Diego. I gotta admit you've gotten way better since we were teenagers." you smiled up at him but he wasn't buying it. "What are you-"

You cut him off when you leaned upward and kissed him right on the mouth. When you pulled away, Diego was in a state of shock and confusion and you used this to your advantage. You were able to wiggle your leg free and kick him right on the family jewels before pushing him off of you and you grabbed the egg. Diego was holding his crotch as he huffed in pain.

"You know, for a guy, you have really soft lips." you winked as you gave him a two finger salute before phasing walking out of the building.

The next morning, Madame Sol was downright devastated when they found them art work gone and the guard knocked out. The museum received an anonymous message from the thief, threatening her to buy the egg from the thief or else they would sell it to other buyers who were already interested. Madame agreed to pay the money without another even thinking and gave you a rather large metal briefcase in a discreet location. You thanked her for her patronage and with that you happily skipped into the bank where you deposited all your cash into your five different accounts.

Now, you were sitting outside a cozy little cafe, sipping on your favorite drink and eating some (f/f) cake. A waitress stopped by and asked if you needed anything but just smiled and shook your head. It was a quiet day, people were calmly walking down the street and there wasn't a lot of cars driving by. It felt really peaceful. Deciding that you want to go home. You finished off your drink and cake, took out your wallet and left your payment and a tip.

The sun was slowly setting as you neared your apartment building. You looked up at the sky and smiled. Today really was a beautiful day. Suddenly you heard the sound of someone being slammed in a garbage bin in an alleyway right across the street. You stopped in your tracks, looked to the direction of the noise and debated if you should go check it out. Suddenly, screams erupted from the same alleyway and you broke off into a sprint to the other side and pressed your back against the wall. You looked to see what was going on and you saw two men dragging a flailing girl into their van. You cursed under your breath as one of them hit her in the stomach making her cry out in pain. You quickly phased into the wall and waited for them to get the girl inside the van. Once she was inside, they locked the door and banged on it, telling at her to keep quiet.

As they were walking to the front of the vehicle you suddenly jumped out of the wall and slammed into one of them. They hit their head on the van with enough force to knock him out. The other guy took out a pistol and to the other side of the van but there was nothing there other than the his unconscious friend. He frantically searched for the intruder, pointing his gun in every every direction until the doors of the van swung open, hitting him on the head and he fell to the floor. You ran out the van with the girl next to you but before you could reach the street a shot rang through the air and a sudden sharp pain manifested at the back of your stomach. You tripped and your face hit the ground as tears suddenly rolled down your cheeks and your mouth was Coughing out blood.

You felt one of their boots turn your body around and you heard him gasp and laugh in glee. "Holy shit, (y/n) fucking Hargreeves." he crouched down so you see his face more clearly. His stained teeth was smiling down at you his and his eyes were disturbingly yellow. "Ohoho, you are worth so much more than that other slut we almost took." he stood up and laughed as he walked to the van and got something from the back. He said something about catching tuna but they got a great white instead. You couldn't quite comprehend what was happening anymore as the senses of your body started to shut down one after the other.

Suddenly, you could hear man's muffled screaming as the sound of something sharp cut through the air but you didn't pay much attention as you just started up onto the orange sky. A dark figure was now looming over you but you couldn't recognize who it was due to since your eyes were starting to get foggy. When the mystery silhouette kneeled down to you, you couldn't handle the pain anymore and you finally blacked out.

When you finally regained consciousness you heard a sweet voice coming next to you. Your eyes slowly opened and you instantly knew where you were. You've been in here so many times when you were still a child. You look to your side and saw your robotic mother happily cleaning a bloody scalpel. "Mom" you croaked. She looked at you and smile "Hello (y/n) dear. How are you feeling?" Grace asked as she walked over to you. "Well, not dead because of you." you said and she chuckled. "Oh, I can't take all the credit dear. Diego was the one who brought you back here."

"Imagine what would have happened if I came a minute later." A new voice entered the conversation. It turned over to Diego who was leaning on the door frame. "Ah, Diego, my savior, as thankful as I am for your heroism why do you have to be so intense all the time." you shot him a playful smile and he laughed as he shook his head. He walked over and took a seat next to you. Grey smiled as she walked out of the room, giving you two some privacy.

Diego looked at your bandaged stomach as he gently ran his hands over it. "Does it hurt?" he asked concerned. You felt a small twinge of pain as he put pressure on your stomach but it was practically nothing. You shook your head and said no. You were looking at his face as he stared at your wounds. It was silent for a minute or two until you spoke, "Thank you." you stuttered softly. "For saving me." Diego looked at you with a half smile. "Well, it's kind of my job." he responded. "Saving people and breaking bones?" you asked, quoting him. He laughed and nodded. Your happy expression faltered slightly. "Even for a criminal like me?" you asked and he looked at you for a minute before he said, "Nobody's perfect." He smiled as he placed his hand on yours and give it a gentle squeeze. You smiled and he cleared his throat and stood up.

"Anyways," he started "About what happened at the museum." he said and you rolled your eyes. "Oh come on, I already gave the egg back. You can't still be mad about-" he shut you up with a soft but passionate kiss and you instantly kissed back. When he pulled away he rested his forehead on yours. "I've always wanted to do that ever since our first mission together." he whispered and blushed, smiling. You were about to lean in for another peck but then the booming voice of yours father shook the room.

"Number 8! Your recent actions across the city are extremely inexcusable!" he said, standing at the door way. Diego smirked as he stood straight. "Have fun pumpkin." he said as he walked out.

"You fucking prick."

AN:

So here's the first story for, Villain I Appear to be! I decided to write a one-shot series for the Umbrella kids because why not, you know? Don't worry, The Great Escape is still my number one priority so this won't change update time for it. uwu. It's just refreshing to write about other characters. Huhu.

I'll be writing for every single Umbrella kid except for Five because honestly it makes me uncomfortable since his actor is so young. But hey, if ya'll want me to add Five then just DM me or something. uwu. I promise to try my best.

#diego hargreeves #umbrella academy diego #diego hargeeves #the umbrella academy x reader #tua x reader #x reader #reader insert #reader #fanfiction #fanfic #number two #number 2 #the umbrella academy grace #tua #the umbrella academy #tua diego #the umbrella academy diego

[pjbehindthesun]

chapter 26: principles, paint fumes, and pasta

Tuesday, November 6th, 1990

The first thing I’m aware of before I even open my eyes is that this isn’t my bed. Oh. Right.

The next piece of information I can register is that my shoulder’s killing me. With a big sigh, I try to shift to alleviate the pressure, but then it dawns on me that there’s a reason I can’t move my arm. A very good reason, a redheaded reason who’s curled up against me, facing away, whose bed it is, and who miraculously didn’t wake up when I did. What’s a little dislocated ball and socket joint between friends? ...or whatever we’re calling ourselves now... No, friends, definitely still friends. I need to remember that it’s important to just be Cora’s friend right now. And anyway, it wouldn’t be very friendly of me to wake her up, right? She puts on a brave show but she’s still pretty sick, and I ought to let her get as much rest as she needs. So I hold still and try to ignore my aching shoulder.

Purely selfless of me, of course. Has nothing to do with wanting to stay this close to her for as long as possible, or how good her hair smells in a pile right below my face, or the fact that her bed is way more comfortable than it has any right to be, or the fact that she’s not wearing pants… it’s all very innocent, of course, she just insisted after a while that she couldn’t handle her sweatpants for another second and tugged them off under the covers before falling asleep on me… I'd like to be able to say that I put up a valiant, principled struggle against her pantslessness, but really, who would believe that?

I really missed this. I’ve never exactly been a big fan of sleeping with someone, actually sleeping -- relationship or no relationship, I’ve always needed a healthy minimum amount of personal space -- but everything’s different with Cora, and I’ve really missed this. I know it was only a few nights ago that she came over, but it feels like I’ve been experiencing the passage of time in dog years, like it’s been less than a week for normal humans but somehow over a month for me. Trying to undo the damage of our last fight was hard enough, and now realistically I know that she’s gonna be reeling from this breakup for a long time and that I need to give her as much space as possible and just kinda let her handle it on her own, in her own way… but it’s difficult not to focus on the fact that she’s single now. Maybe there won’t be quite as much drama involved in being honest with her about my feelings now that Alex is gone. Maybe this is actually a good time to try and tell her how much I still want to be with her.

Or maybe I’m just being incredibly selfish, and the last thing she needs is another person she trusts moving the goalposts on her, and that's the exact opposite of the whole friend thing I'm trying to do here. A fresh wave of regret washes over me as I remember how dismissive I was of her guilt on Friday morning. I’m starting to understand where that guilt came from. God, I really need to get out of here.

What time is it, anyway? She’s sleeping on my watch arm, and the room’s dark enough that I couldn’t find a clock even if I knew where she kept one… but the fact that her window is pitch black is more than enough information. We were supposed to just take a short nap, but we obviously overslept. Lucy’s supposed to get back here after she’s done with work, and who knows what the hell her opinion of my situation with Cora is. I’d rather wear Mark’s spangly, silver, unwashed, fish-stained leggings for an entire calendar year than try and explain to Lucy why I spent the entire day here in Cora’s bed when I was supposed to be helping move Cletus out (and hey, for the record, I did an unimpeachable job).

And speaking of opinions of the situation, what about Cora’s? I know how I feel about her, and I think by now she does too, but who the hell knows what she thinks about us now? I wonder if she’s been having the same thoughts as me… I wonder if she’s still just as hung up as I am on what happened between us? Maybe she’s just as eager to give this thing a real try now that she’s finally free to do so? But until she says otherwise, we’re still technically still in this ceasefire, and I’m not about to be the one who violates it by bringing up such a radioactive subject. That would be just perfect, another one of our big stupid trademark fights. That’s pretty much what we’re best at, at this point. What’s my fucking problem? Why the hell am I waiting around here for another fight?

As if to answer my question, she sighs and wiggles a little closer. Jesus, I’m a weak-willed idiot for this woman. I know better, honestly I do, but I can’t help burying my nose deeper into her hair and the curve of her neck. Who knows when I’ll feel this close to her again. But in a feat of resolve, I manage to stop myself from kissing her. I’m not totally devoid of learning ability, after all. With one more deep breath, I slide my arm out from under her, my face screwed up partly with the effort of being stealthy and partly due to the pins and needles pricking my shoulder, and make my way out of her bed.

I’m sure I woke her up, but I’m not about to look back and confirm it. Nothing personal, I’ve just got to get going for both our sakes, that’s all. Scooping up my discarded shirt and hat, I head straight for the bathroom to pull myself together. I feel like such an asshole, though… I’m not ditching her, I’m just letting her stay in bed and rest, right? This isn’t a dick move, right? It’s just stealth. Sure. Right. Anxiety squeezes at my throat.

Except I realize the stealth plan is completely blown when I remember I have to head back to her room for my coat and boots. When I get there, the bed’s empty. Ohhhkay. So much for sneaking out. Time to try and find a creative way to get out of here before one of us does something stereotypically idiotic. I’ve stayed for way too long, and the last thing I want is for her to think I expect anything from her by hanging around. She’s so vulnerable right now. I don’t want her to feel like she owes me something for helping her out, or like I’m here because of any ulterior motives. I’ve got to leave with my principles intact, somehow.

After I’ve shuffled back into my boots, I head to the kitchen, where Cora’s got her back to me as she gets herself a fresh drink of water.

“Uh, so I gotta... get going,” I state the obvious, opening the front door with the hand that’s still draped in my coat, causing me to lose my grip on it and fumble to keep from dropping it entirely. Oh, excellent. Feeling extremely suave right about now.

“Yeah, I figured. I’ve kept you long enough, huh?” She refrains from laughing as I fight my way into my coat and just offers a tentative smile as she makes her way over to me. She’s wearing pants again. I’m not sure what I expected, but it’s still disappointing.

“No, it’s not… you didn’t… I could have… but, dog…”

One of her eyebrows skyrockets. “Again in English, please?”

“I gotta… go take care of the dog,” I finally stitch together a sentence with a cringe, “because, uh, my parents are still out of town. Poor old thing’s probably doing the bathroom dance by the back door.”

Fuck! That’s not even true! My parents’ flight landed earlier today, I’m sure the dog’s getting spoiled rotten as we speak. Why am I lying to her? The panicked feeling in my throat tightens.

“Aww, poor Penny,” she croons, setting the water glass down on top of the TV and taking me by the collar to give me a shake with both hands. “Why didn’t you tell me, Stoner? I woulda kicked you out hours ago!”

Jesus, she has the prettiest eyes. I’m never ready for the effect they have at close range like this. Shit. What are we talking about? Oh, right.

“I, uh… I probably should have gotten back to work already anyway, now that I’m no longer a sanitation threat to the general customer base of the bakery.”

She smooths out the fabric of my coat but doesn’t let go, gnawing on her bottom lip and frowning at her handiwork. “I should get back to school tomorrow too, probably.”

“Oh no way, Typhoid Mary, you’re under quarantine for at least another couple of days,” I cackle, putting my arm up in front of my face, making her drop her grip on my coat.

“I can’t miss that many classes! My professors will think I’m slacking off!”

“Oh, yeah, might as well just withdraw from school, no point even going back now that your credibility’s so irreparably damaged.”

She ignores me. “I should probably call them and explain, right?”

“It’s you, Red, I’m pretty sure after one missed lecture they’ve initiated a missing persons search. Come to think of it, I think I saw your face on a milk carton at the grocery store.”

“That’d be rich, considering I haven’t seen my own advisor since like September,” she allows a tiny smile, picking up the tattered novel I’d been reading earlier. “You wanna take this with you?”

“Oh, uh, sure,” I mumble, letting her push the book into my chest and taking it from her. “You sure you won’t miss it?”

“It’s a short book, Stone, I can spare it for a few weeks. Unless you’re planning to skip town or something.”

“No, why would I do that??” I gape at her in horror, feeling my heart start to race like a cornered animal. Is that what she thinks of me leaving like this? I’m not skipping town! I just don’t want to… I don’t even know what I want. Of course I want to stay and spend more time with her, but I can’t help feeling like I’ve overstayed my welcome and I need to give her some space… Jesus, calm down, idiot, look at her, she’s staring at you like you just sprouted extra ears. That’s obviously not what she meant.

“Okay, okay, unclench! It was just a joke, Stoner.” She gives me a shove to the shoulder before winding her arms around my middle and resting her head on the same spot she'd just assaulted. “Although I do kinda wish you could stay.”

“Yeah, uh, I mean, me too…” I stammer, yet again forgetting what we're even talking about because yet again all I can focus on is how good her hair smells. God, I’m a total disaster.

“Thank you. I mean it. For everything. For staying as long as you did…”

“It was nothing. I mean, I think I may have thrown my back out earlier, but that's what you get for hiring a slotted spoon for all your post-breakup moving man needs.”

A little laugh bubbles out of her and she starts to work out the muscles in my lower back in a slow, kneading motion.

“I was kidding, you don't have to do that…” I protest, my knees weakening. But she doesn’t stop, and I’m starting to feel awkward about not returning her hug, so I half-assedly reciprocate, which only prompts her to pull me closer and massage more of my back. Not good… or very good, very, very good... no, not good! I wish I could think of some other words, some way to explain why I’m in such a hurry to get away from her, but I can’t figure out what to say that won't be hurtful. That the longer I stay here, the more uncomfortable I am with the implications. That I’m not sure I can trust myself to make the right decisions around her, especially right now. That I really just need to go clear my head for a while, and she’s never been very helpful with that.

She nuzzles deeper into my shoulder before looking up at me, inches away and wearing a sheepish little smile, swaying us just slightly, like she’s not sure what else to do either. But we both know what we’d like to be doing. I want it to happen more than I can articulate, but I’m also not going to be the one to do it. I can’t seem to remember why not, though. Something about principles, I think. So I stand there like an absolute idiot and let her close the distance and kiss me. The closest thing I can manage to principled behavior is just to let her lead, to keep the kiss as light as I possibly can, to resist pulling her closer and taking over, to avoid walking her backwards into her bedroom and giving up on the whole stupid pretense that I have any sort of resolve whatsoever when it comes to her.

God, what are we doing? She's been single for less than 24 hours! This is a terrible idea, even by our standards… I pull away and drop my hands, hoping to give her a reassuring smile but probably looking more like the “before” guy in an antacid commercial before I slink into the hallway and away from her door.

I don't look back until I'm two flights of stairs away. What the hell was that? Why couldn’t I just tell her what was wrong? I should go back up, I should explain, she's probably still standing there stunned… I take a few steps back up before wheeling around again, ready to bolt out of her building until I regain enough composure and sense to come back and have a real talk with her about our situation, but instead I plow into someone heading upstairs.

“OW! Stone, what the FUCK?”

Some mumbled word that hopefully sounds like “sorry” comes out of me as I put a hand out to make sure Lucy doesn’t topple backwards. I was going to try to edge my way past her and continue down the stairs, but for the second time today, someone’s got me by the coat collar, and I stumble backwards up a couple stairs to get my balance.

She fixes me with a beady, searching squint. “What are you still doing here?”

“Nothing. I was just leaving.”

“Yeah, Captain Obvious, I know… wasn’t Alex supposed to come by around noon?”

“Yeah, he did.” With some effort, I shift until she releases her clawlike grip on me, but it’s clear she’s still not planning to let me past her just yet.

“It’s like 6:30… why are you still here? Is she okay?”

“She’s fine!” Her eyebrows shoot up, and frankly I'm surprised by my own volume as well. Shouting’s definitely not helping my case. I lower my voice several decibels and try again. “She’s fine, don’t worry. They didn’t see each other at all, she was asleep the whole time, I took care of it, and then, uh… we just fell asleep together. For a little while.”

“You what?” She’s a little shorter than me and two steps below me, but that doesn’t stop me from cowering back from the menacing look I just got. Still, she’s pissing me the fuck off and I’m in no mood for this.

“Did I stutter?” God, I really don’t need to pick a fight with Lucy too, but I’m running out of patience for this shit. I’m not thrilled about everyone always assuming the worst about me. Then again, I’ve just been occupied doing the same thing.

“Cut the shit, Stone! She’s been single for five fucking minutes, can’t you keep it in your pants long enough to let her --”

“Jesus! Nothing happened, okay?”

“This time, maybe.”

“Oh, fuck off. She didn’t want to be alone, I stuck around for a while, that’s it! I did what you fucking asked.”

Lucy’s mouth opens furiously, but I’ve pushed past her before she can get a word out. She’s made her point. And I’d never admit it to her, but I know she’s right.

***

What the fuck is his problem? Ugh, you sarcastic little shit! Yeah, you’d better run!

With a huff, I stomp up the rest of the stairs. I can’t believe him! I’ve stuck up for him, I’ve defended him to Cora, I’ve tried to help her recognize how much she loves his stupid ass, and he bites my head off? Me, of all people? I’m not the enemy! I just want to make sure he’s giving her a little space, that’s all! No wonder he’s storming off, they probably got into another one of their textbook fights because he tried to move things forward too fast. I know he’s a complete shithead when it comes to Cora, but I figured he’d have enough sense not to try and make a move today, at the very least. Last time I give too much credit to Stone, that’s for damn sure.

I slow my pace down when I hit her floor and brace myself for whatever kind of apocalyptic, tearful mess he probably left behind. The door is still wide open, which can’t be a good sign… I edge into the apartment and knock lightly anyway, even though I can see her in the kitchen from the hallway.

“Hey Luce,” she smiles over her shoulder before returning to the cabinet she’s rooting through. She’s not exactly the picture of health, but for someone with the flu, she looks pretty normal. And chipper. Which is precisely zero help as I try to piece together why Stone was rushing out of here in such a bitchy hurry.

“Hey… how are you feeling?”

“I’m okay. Slept most of the day, which probably didn’t hurt. Stone just left.” She’s got her back to me as she grabs a sheet pan and fills it with frozen tater tots, so I can’t gauge her face, but her voice still sounds pretty upbeat.

“Yeah? He wasn’t too much of a pest?”

“No, why would he be?” she says, keeping a neutral tone as she puts the pan in the oven and turns around.

“You sure you’re okay? Stone spent the whole day here and you’re not annoyed? If you’re hallucinating, we definitely need to get you to the hospital…” I reach up to put a hand on her forehead but she bats it away with a weak smile.

“Seriously, it’s fine. He did all the packing, he made me take some cold meds, and I spent most of the day completely crashed out. When I woke up, he’d handled the whole Alex thing, I didn’t even have to come to the door. Really decent of him, actually.”

“Yeah,” I peer at her. “I guess. So you’re really okay?”

“Yeah, why?”

“I mean… just wondering.”

She hunches her shoulders defensively, but she’s still smiling, so it’s clear that pressing the issue isn’t going to get me any new information. But it still kinda freaks me out that she’s this calm and robotic about it all. I mean, we’re not even a day out from Cindygate, and she’s acting so… normal? I know this is her first breakup, but doesn’t she know the rules? Doesn’t she know she’s entitled to a sobbing, ice-cream binging, voodoo doll-making phase? How the hell can she be so calm about this? And what the hell happened with Stone, and why isn’t she more spun up about that? I want to grab her by the shoulders and shake the story out of her, but that’s more for my benefit than for hers. I need a different approach.

“So what do you want to get up to tonight?”

Without a word, she points at the oven and then at her own open mouth, which inadvertently becomes a full-body yawn. “Tots. Then sleep.”

“Didn’t you sleep all day?”

“Yeah, it was fucking exhausting. Seriously, I kinda just want to be alone so I can crash.”

“Sure, okay… you sure?”

“I’m sure! I don’t need supervision, Lucy, I just need more sleep.”

“Yeah, of course,” I nod reassuringly, but I’m still not sure what to make of this totally calm, emotionless robot. Is she really okay? Is she just spaced out on cold meds? Is she waiting for me to leave so she can fall apart?

“Go say hi to the guys for me, okay?” she chirps with her back toward me as she peeks into the oven to check on her tater tots, waving without looking.

“Uh huh. Uhm, you can come over if you want company…”

“Nah. I’ll call you tomorrow!”

Okay, as I make my way out into the hallway and close the door behind me, I can maybe start to see why Stone was so shaken up. Acting this calm the day after what she just went through? That’s just fucking freaky. No good will come of this.

When I key into Jeff’s apartment, he and Eddie glance up from where they’re both sitting on the couch, guitars in hand, noses buried in one of Ed’s little notebooks. Basketball’s on the TV, and a bag of Chips Ahoy sits half-devoured between them on the cushion. A much more normal and reassuring sight. I didn’t realize I’d been holding my shoulders tight around my ears all day, but it’s a massive relief to leave Cora’s drama behind for a little while and come home. I mean, not that Jeff’s place is my home! I guess technically I spend enough time here that I’ve started to think of it that way, but the idea of making things more official hasn’t really come up. Not since the whole “I love you” thing happened in the bathroom the other day. And I’m not even sure it came up then. I might have been imagining it in the midst of all those paint fumes. To be honest, I’m kind of glad it hasn’t come up again because I’m still not sure how to handle a relationship that’s going this well. In some ways, Jeff being in my life feels like a practical joke. Like at any moment, some horrible game show host is going to pop out from behind a ficus plant and say, ‘just kidding, you didn’t really think a guy this great could actually be in love with YOU, did you? Look, everybody, can you believe she fell for it...’

“In or out?” Jeff grins, setting his bass down propped up against the couch to stand up and take an irresistible kitten-like stretch.

“In.”

“Hi, Lucy,” Eddie mumbles as I close the door behind me, scratching his eyebrow and smiling shyly.

I try to say hi back, but it’s a muffled yelp from inside Jeff’s sudden bear hug, and Eddie quickly averts his eyes back to the notebook.

“Work good?” Jeff says from somewhere in my hair, totally oblivious to Eddie’s discomfort.

“Yeah, just long. Have you talked to Stone?”

His snort right into my ear tells me that’s a no. “So you didn’t hear anything about how today went?”

“How what went?” Jeff lets me go just enough to get a look at my face. Shit, that’s right, I’ve been so wrapped up in all this drama I haven’t even told him what happened last night! Oh, this is not going to be pretty.

“Sooo,” I stall, filling my lungs with air and focusing on my feet planted on their scuffed floor, trying to ground myself before the inevitable explosion, “the thing is, Cora kicked Alex out last night after finding him in their apartment with another girl…”

Jeff takes a big step back from me and laces his fingers behind his head like he’s trying to restrain them from wringing the nearest neck. “Whhh…” he struggles to talk through clenched teeth. When I glance over at Eddie, he hasn’t moved a muscle except to draw his eyebrows as far down into a knot as humanly possible as he glares at his pages.

“Yeah, it was pretty terrible, or it sounds that way. She didn’t tell me until this morning, but I guess she threw him out right then and spent the night by herself. That’s all I know. She won’t really talk to me about it. Anyway, I called him this morning and talked him into coming by to get his stuff today, just to rip the bandage off as soon as possible. I think he was feeling guilty enough that he went for it. And Stone was the only one around to help out and make sure Alex didn’t hassle Cora when he came by.”

“You should have called me, I woulda left work!” Jeff shouts, letting his arms flail. “God, I wait all year for a chance to punch that guy in the jaw, and Stone gets to do it, of all people? I don’t think he even knows how to throw a punch, he’d probably miss and end up hitting himself!”

“Stone had a pretty good grip on things, nobody got punched,” Eddie says absently in that uniquely low but resonant way he has, so that even the quietest words reach every ear in the room.

“Wait, you were there too? Fuck, I miss everything!”

“Well, no, I just sorta… I was in the right place at the right time, I helped Stone get some of the boxes into the guy’s truck.” His eyes are boring holes into the floor, refusing to look at either Jeff or me, so we settle for looking equally confused at one another. How come Stone didn’t mention Eddie helping out? I wonder if Cora has any idea. She certainly didn’t let on if she did. Shit, let’s hope not. She’d probably be completely mortified.

“Wait, so this thing with this girl, do you know if it was a one-off or what?” Jeff presses me for more details.

“It was his best friend’s girlfriend, I think. Apparently it had been going on for like a year.”

Just as Jeff interpretively dances through another fit of apoplectic rage, Eddie excuses himself and starts to slouch off toward his bedroom, which is really more like a large closet with a futon. Poor guy, he probably feels really uncomfortable with me here all the time, especially with so little space of his own to escape to.

“Eddie, you don’t have to go! Did you guys eat dinner yet? I could make something!”

“Hmm? Nah, thanks, I’m good, I’ve gotta… I'll figure something out a little later, you go ahead,” he mumbles cryptically, disappearing down the hall.

“Guy’s a fast learner, he already knows not to let you cook,” Jeff grumbles, visibly winding down just a tiny bit.

“I’m sorry I didn’t tell you. She didn't even tell me until this morning. It all happened so quickly before work.”

“Nah, don’t apologize, it’s not like I’m mad at you. I just really hate that fucking guy.”

“Join the club.”

With a chuckle, he pulls me into another embrace. “Pizza?”

We order dinner, I ditch my work clothes for the sweats I’ve started keeping in his dresser, and before long, it’s starting to feel like any other normal Tuesday evening. Until, after settling into a pizza coma with my legs stretched out over his lap on the couch, half-asleep, he speaks up out of nowhere.

“So, have you thought anymore about it?”

“About what?” I ask through a stifled yawn.

“Moving in with me.”

Instantly wide awake, I gape at him and rack my brain. When the fuck did we talk about moving in together? When did we talk about it in enough detail that he thought I’d have an answer? What the hell am I supposed to do with this? Has absolutely everyone in this building lost their damn mind? What was in those paint fumes, anyway?

***

Wednesday, November 7th, 1990

Not your typical sick day, I guess. Most people would probably just stay in bed, but I’m having a hard time with the whole bed concept. It felt a little less like “our” bed when Stone was here with me, distracting me from the fact that it used to be a shared bed by definition, but it still doesn’t feel like “mine.” Who knows how long it’s going to take me to occupy the whole bed when I sleep by myself. It feels rude to take up Alex's space. I hate that I’m still calling it his space. It’s not like he’s coming back for it. Not like I’d even want him to. But it still feels like there’s a big “reserved” sign hanging over that side of the bed. So much of my apartment doesn’t feel like mine. Looking around and seeing massive, conspicuous holes where Alex’s things used to be makes it so much worse. They look like wounds.

So I’ve spent the day covering up those holes. Shuffling books and records around so that the bookcases don’t look so gap-toothed. Reorganizing my sweaters to use all the drawers in the dresser. But that only wasted so much time. I still had a whole day to myself. It’s weird, I spent a lot of time by myself when we were together, too -- I guess that was part of the problem -- but the solitary time never felt this bottomless. Now, I’ll do anything I can think of to fill it up, use it up, burn it, in the hope that if I kill enough of it, it’ll develop an end. One of those light things at the end of the tunnel that stupid optimistic people are always talking about.

The first thing I thought of was calling the clinic. I’m on their schedule for tomorrow for a check-up. I’ve never gone to one of these places before, but it seems the obvious thing to do. Not even out of fear, really, just out of due diligence. It doesn’t even seem like my own health I’m checking up on, it’s just something right out of the Handbook for the Recently Cheated On.

Then, once the thought of cleanliness had occurred to me, it seemed only natural that purging the apartment was the next step. Maybe if every last corner of this place is spotless, it’ll feel more like it belongs to me, more like a fresh start of some kind. And mindless tasks are the perfect way to burn out any thoughts about Alex, like checking the clock and wondering if he’s ever going to call. He probably has no reason to call someone he’s been over for so long, and I’m not sure I want to hear from him, but there’s this weird void where he used to be, made all the more prominent by how suddenly it appeared. Shouldn’t we have some kind of closure? Wouldn’t calling me to talk about it be the right thing to do, even if it was just a postmortem? I thought we respected each other at least enough for that. Maybe he will call eventually, but not enough time has passed. See? This is why I need to clean the fucking house, I can’t stop dwelling on stupid shit like this. Or other stupid shit, like how confusing everything’s gotten with Stone. I haven’t heard anything from him since he sprinted out of my place yesterday. God, what was I thinking, kissing him? He was obviously trying to get out of here as fast as he could, I just… I didn’t want him to leave, and I didn’t know how to explain it to him, so I said it the only way I could think to say it… he couldn’t have been less into it, the poor guy. I’m sure he just stayed the whole day out of pity, and I took advantage of his kindness by kissing him. Fucking great. Running them off in droves. Who can blame them?

So I’ve vacuumed, I’ve mopped, I’ve dusted. I’ve disinfected the light switches. I’ve run vinegar solutions through the dishwasher, the coffee pot. I’ve scrubbed all the baseboards. I’ve cleaned under the refrigerator. I’ve oiled the creaky bathroom door hinges. I’ve used Alex’s toothbrush to clean the bathroom floor tile grout. And I’m running out of ideas. God, I really need to get healthy soon so I can go the fuck back to the lab, this is pathetic. Oh! I don’t think I’ve ever deep-cleaned the radiator!

A cloth, a bucket of soapy water, and a grimy cast-iron project. Perfect. There are so many impossible angles, so many unreachable corners, so many attention-stealing details I can fixate on until my hands go numb. I could do this for hours. I already feel like I have been doing this for hours. This is exactly what I needed. The perfect antidote to overthinking.

I have no idea what time it is when I hear a tentative knock on my door. Probably Lucy checking on me after work again. It’s sweet of her, but really, I need to get rid of her as soon as I can. The less I have to explain about my mental state to concerned third parties, the better.

“Come in, it’s open,” I call, not lifting my head from the floor where I’m crouched on my hands and knees to check whether the underside of the radiator is uniformly glistening.

“Did you lose something under there?”

At the sound of a much deeper than expected voice, I jolt upright, regretting the decision instantly when my neck complains. “Eddie! What are you doing here?” Fuck, why does he always catch me off guard like this? I always run into him at the worst moments.

“Oh, sorry, is this a bad time?”

If it were anyone but Eddie, I would probably say yes, because my life lately is an endless continuum of bad times, but he looks so small and forlorn standing in my doorway clutching a baking pan covered in foil that I can’t bring myself to make him feel any more out of place.

“No, not at all.”

“Uhm, not to, like… question your methods or anything, but… what were you doing just now?”

“Cleaning the radiator.”

“Huh. Do you have to do that?”

I shrug, dropping the rag into the bucket of scummy water. “I have to do something.”

“Sure, sure, yeah.” He nods with a scowl. This seems to be one of his approving scowls. I like a person who has different varieties of scowls. “Well, uhm,” his gaze travels down to the pan in his hands, and the scowl becomes almost one of surprise, as if he didn’t remember bringing it with him, “I heard you were feeling under the weather, so I figured someone should drop off some sustenance.”

Only when he mentions food does my stomach loudly remind me that I’ve forgotten to eat all day. “Oh, thanks,” I start to say, but he keeps mumbling down at the dish.

“It’s not like it’s gourmet or anything, it’s just baked ziti, there was a coupon for spaghetti sauce. I don’t really have my own pans and stuff, though, so you’re gonna have to give this one back eventually, it’s Jeff’s…”

“I think I can handle that.” His sincerity is so touching that I want to hug him, except I’m all covered in sweat and grime, and he looks like he might shatter if I tried. I settle for taking the pan from him with a simple “thank you” and giving him a chance to find someplace in my apartment where he feels a little more at ease. True to form, he settles on standing in the doorway, one foot still in the hall, with his hands shoved deep in his pockets and his eyes digging into the floor.

I was about to put the pan away, figuring I’d heat it up by myself later, but the black marker design sketched on the aluminum foil cover stops me in my tracks in front of my recently polished fridge. Setting the pan down on the counter to study it, I find a series of angular, progressing ocean waves crashing on a shore. A few seabirds seem to be circling way out over the water. As my eyes travel in from the ocean, there’s a spit of beach encircled by a spiky ring of vegetation, some roughly sketched palm trees, and a hammock underneath. And even though no one’s speaking, I can hear his voice reaffirming our stupid little daydream outside the Off Ramp that night. 

The island’s still there if we need it, right?

“Eddie?”

“Yeah?” He turns around from his solitary post in my door frame.

“You got dinner plans?”

“No,” his scowl gives way to a tight-lipped and dimpled smile, “you?”

“Now I do. Thanks for this.”

“Ahh,” he rumbles, shaking his head uncomfortably at the floor and making his way inside, closing the door behind him.

#okay you guys here is what my idiots have been up to #it's pretty bad as usual #chapter 26 #behind the sun #fanfiction #fanfic #stone gossard #jeff ament #eddie vedder

[dream-girls-evil]

Episode 6 Reaction

Hey kiddos! Sorry I didn’t post anything last night; that extra-long episode made me tired! I’m an old lady. Anyways! What did you all think?? I...really, really wanted to like it, for Sarah, but I just didn’t. And it’s not her fault, she worked with the script she was given; the script was just so disappointing. Let’s break it down, shall we? 

Warning: I gotta rant, so this will be LONG.

Madison Montgomery

Wow I could watch a full episode just of Madison and Behold being stuck on that drive to the Murder House together. They’re fucking hilarious. I was absolutely LIVING for Billy Porter’s expressions.

I also cackled when she just casually tossed aside Hayden’s skull. I would have paid to see them interact.

I’m glad that they’re at least trying to give Madison some character development, but she was really all over the place with this episode

It made me laugh out loud when she said Tate wasn’t that hot

And then cringe when she called Ben a DILF

And what in the world was that line “if my baby wasn’t cool or good-looking, I wouldn’t love it”? Like, WHAT? Even if that’s true, it was just such a weird and unnecessary thing to say.

And then then just randomly deciding to bring up a super personal memory with a guy you barely know and who might be your enemy.

There’s been no pacing or sense of progression, just awkwardly blurting out information at inappropriate times. Maybe they’re going for Madison trying way too hard to be a different person, and how it’s really not working? I hope whatever it is, they can settle on a tone for her soon.

I will admit, though, that I loved her saying “Cordelia will know what to do.” Tbh, of all the girls, she’s always had the most mother-daughter relationship with Cordelia, even if neither of them would EVER admit it. I do think she really looks up to her Supreme.

It’s also looking like the last name is probably a coincidence, by what Billie Dean said.

Speaking of Billie Dean...

Murder House Characters

The actual FUCK was going on here???

Billie Dean Howard--I was SO excited when she showed up

And SO glad they got her a better wig than she had in Murder House. That was awful.

If “I’ve known a few Montgomery’s in my day” is as close as we’re gonna get to Hotgomery then I am taking it. It’s canon now, fight me.

But man, I wanted her and Constance to interact more! They had such a fun dynamic in the first season!

And then she...disappeared? I know Sarah had to actually direct, but they couldn’t have even had her say “well, I’ve gotta head out, we’re leaving to film at (wherever)” or something?

They could have shortened this episode by 30 minutes if she had just told the witches that Michael was the Antichrist from the get go

Constance Langdon

A queen, as always, but also confusing. I don’t understand any of her story.

First of all, she KNEW Billie’s prophecy about the Antichrist. They both KNEW what Michael would be from the moment they found out he was conceived. And even if Constance didn’t believe it then, you’d think she would have realized something was up when he aged 10 years overnight.

And after being totally cool and actually seeming a little proud when he killed his first nanny, and all that talk about him being destined for greatness, did anyone else expect her to be totally psyched that her grandson was the future ruler of the world? Cuz I did.

And her fourth child finally appears! Man, first Cordelia, now this? Jessica’s tv daughters really can’t catch a break in the eye department.

Aaaaand she’s still a bitch to Moira. You’d think Violet would have taught her about slut shaming or something by now.

Moira

She finally gets to be with her mother and I’m sobbing.

But, we’ve pretty much known it was going to happen for months.

It still wasn’t totally satisfying, though. She didn’t say goodbye to the Harmons, who she was really close with the last time we saw her. She was Jeffrey’s godmother!

And speaking of the Harmons, where tf was Vivien to defend her from Constance’s torture??? I loved Vivien and Moira’s dynamic in the first season!

The Harmons

Man, I was so proud of Vivien for not talking to Ben for like five seconds and then they ruined it.

Ben is still a shit therapist and all-around douchebag.

Words cannot express my anger that literally the ONLY reason Violet showed up was to redeem Tate.

Tate

No. Nope. Rejected. I will never accept that their toxic relationship is okay because “the house made him do it.” Tate is manipulative, sociopathic trash.

Michael Langdon

Okay, metal six-year-old Michael was actually kinda cute, sadly it couldn’t last.

And it’s literally Tate’s fault again cuz why not, he started this whole thing after all.

Aaaaaand more dead lesbians. HE BURNED THEIR FUCKING SOULS UP. What the fuck Murphy. This is not how you do representation.

The whole thing with the “signs” of his rise to power was neat, and his followers were satisfyingly creepy. Loved seeing Naomi Grossman again.

Though I can’t help but wonder how the actual Church of Satan is feeling about its presentation in the show.

I died when they played “Don’t Fear the Reaper.” This season has such great music.

The relationship between Mead and Michael is still a mystery. Like, now we know how they met--she was one of his loyal followers. But he literally almost killed Constance for telling him what to do. So how did Mead get from worshipping the Antichrist to parenting him?

Final Thoughts/Next Week

All in all, the only actual things that needed to happen in that episode were the coven finding out Michael was the Antichrist and us finding out how Constance died.

I was very disappointed with how the ghosts showed up. There was hardly any interaction--they all just made their appearances one-by-one, gave a dramatic speech, and then went off to some sort of happy ending.

Also, very sad Madison didn’t even make one jab about Cordelia being too busy fawning over Misty to investigate this herself.

More background next week with a little bit of time back at Hawthorne. Looks like we’ll be introduced to Joan Collins’ new character, figure out how Dinah got involved with the witches, possibly find out how Myrtle got resurrected (I’m hoping), and see PAPA LEGBA!!! I was SO hoping he’d show up in this season, and I will be SO mad if he doesn’t make at least one comment about getting annoyed with all the times Cordelia called him up trying to bargain for Misty’s soul. Because we all know she did.

Speaking of Misty, if we’re going back to Hawthorne, we’ll find out for sure whether she’s still there or has gone somewhere else (like with Stevie), but they’d better actually tell us where she went, not just ignore the fact that she’s absent.

This episode also means that they DID know who Michael was and what he was going to do in 2018, before the Apocalypse. So they must have had a plan to stop him--what happens with it? If my parallel timelines theory holds out, we won’t know if it works until the very end.

#american horror story #ahs apocalypse #ahs spoilers #apocalypse spoilers #ahs murder house #madison montgomery #behold chablis #billie dean howard #constance langdon #sarah paulson #ryan murphy #jessica lange #vivien harmon #ben harmon #violet harmon #ahs moira #misty day #michael langdon #tate langdon

[spyno41-2]

Tropical Heaven: Florida's Boogaloo

Prologue

They're in Cassandra's bedroom, which is surprisingly clean for Victor. He thought it would be less organized due to her...chaotic nature. He sits on the chair. Raymond is reading doujinshi of a woman being in a harem, while Cassandra is watching the television upside down on her bed next to him.

Cassandra is wearing a black and green shirt that has Jotaro and Jolyne posing with the text "To Daze or to Dawa? That is the question." She is wearing a brown skirt that reaches down to her knees.

Raymond is king of pussy slaying. If he ever called any number that he was given. See, he's a very attractive Asian-American. Black short hair and wears glasses. For some reason, he wears a tuxedo everywhere he goes.

As for Victor, he's a normal Hispanic. He wears his Miami Dolphins shirt and jeans.

"Rayyyyy." He ignores her. She places her foot on his face. He doesn't react. "I'm boooooooored."

"What do you want me to do about it?" He says without breaking away from his cellphone. She places her toes up his nose. This does not deter him.

"Help me not get booooooored." She whines still keeping her stone face.

"Are you both dating?" Victor asks.

"Nah. We're sadly soulmates." Ray replies, removing her foot. Victor is more confused. Then again, he can barely understand these two with how eccentric they are. He doesn't pry further and uses his phone to look up urban legends.

"What are you doing, Vicky?" She asks him.

"I'm researching urban legends of Florida for my project. I decided to do Robert the Doll since it's one of the well known ones." Cassandra sits straight.

"Where is this Robert?"

"He is currently in East Martello Museum down at the Keys." She quickly puts on her black stockings with white stars and crocs.

"Let's go."

"Woah woah. That's a three hour drive."

"Don't worry. I can pitch in for gas."

"That's not the is-"

"Get the car ready, Ray."

"All right." He gets up. She runs out of the room. "Don't bother trying to talk her out of it. Once she has her mind on something, not even the Goddess herself can stop her nonsense." He sighs and leaves. Victor hesitates, but figures this is a good opportunity for his research.

Way down in The Keys

"Woooooah. Stuff." Cassandra stares at the antiques. "You think if I become famous, they'll display my panties and stockings here?"

"Perhaps. Maybe once civilization falls because evangelicals are still in power and unleash nukes to the world out of greed, then the only thing left in the rubble would indeed be your panties and stockings. The aliens will preserve them as evidence of humanity." Raymond says with a straight face while watching porn of tentacles sodomizing legal femboys.

"Far fuckin out, man." She says.

"Uh guys? We're here for Robert, remember?" Victor reminds them.

"You cannot rush history, Vicky. We must appreciate and acknowledge their achievements to grant us the life we are currently living from their sacrifice." Cassandra stares intently. "Which is shit."

"Yes. One must wonder how much actual progress they made, considering things aren't any better about five decades ago. Then again, at least we're socially progressing with every generation. At a rate of a sloth, but progress nonetheless." Ray adds.

"I can see why you both get along." Victor sighs. He moves to the room where the doll is in.

Robert is encased in a glass. Sitting on a wooden chair looking up. He wears a sailor suit of his era and has beady black eyes. Victor wonders why any children would own such a creepy doll. Especially when it's life sized to be a four year old. It's no mystery why Robert sprouted much history. It was designed to be an inspiration for many horror movies to come.

"Hey Robert. I'm Victor. Do you mind if I take a picture? It's for my school project." He asks. The doll doesn't respond. "I'll take that as a yes." He pulls out his phone and starts taking pictures.

"Were you asking a doll for consent? That's pretty cringe, not gonna lie." Cassandra enters the room.

"You have to. People who have taken photos of him, had misfortunes fall upon them. It's why there are letters asking for an apology to lift the curse." Victor points at the many letters in the wall next to the doll.

"Ooooh? That's a bunch of bullshit. Curses don't exist." She pats his head and takes a quick selfie with Robert.

"What are you doing!?"

"Testing the theory, thus hath speaketh Cassandrath." She does the crucifixion pose.

"This is serious, Cass! Legends like those don't spring out of nowhere. In fact, there's a chance that all those supernatural events could explain one thing."

"Are you saying th-"

"Yes. Robert might be an Estado User."

"...CHAJAJAJAJAJA!" She cackles. Victor is disturbed by such display. He is so used to her stoicism, that this comes out of the left field for him. "Vicky, Vicky. My bubula~! Objects can't have Estados. Only living beings can achieve such a feat." She pinches his cheeks. She has her usual creepy smile. Her coffee brown eyes are wide open so that it lets him see the slits. She is grinning to show off her sharp canines.

"It's only a theory." He says. She goes back to her stoicness.

"You are right, though. We can't disregard that possibility." She examines Robert and presses her face against the glass. "Hmmmm. Looks like a normal doll to me." She goes to the corner of the room and crouches. "Oooooh. This looks cool." Victor sighs and looks back at Robert.

"Maybe I'm just being too paranoid."

Beaches with bitches

The group is walking along the sands in Smathers Beach.

"Plenty of estrogen. Not enough testosterone." Raymond sighs.

"That's fine. Feminity is superior anyways." Cassandra looks out at the sea.

"Wow! This is very beautiful!" Victor takes a picture of the scenery. He is focused on his phone, that he bumps against a woman. "Ooof! I'm sorry about that, ma'am."

"It's okay. Though I'm not old enough to be considered a ma'am." She laughs. "Actually, me and my friends are playing volleyball, but we're short by one. Would you like to join us?" She leans forward, making Victor get a nice view of her cleavage.

"S-Sure. I'll play for a bit." She smiles and they both go.

"Look at that. Our son is going to get gangbanged by a bunch of hot MILFs. Almost makes me cry." Cass sniffles stoically.

"Proud of him." Ray goes back to his phone, watching a man being hypnotized to think it's a child and the woman around him having sex with him. "Seriously, who the fuck is into this?"

"We don't kinkshame fellow comrades."

"I know. The art is good though. Why must great artists divulge their talents into degeneracy?"

"Cause it's what they wanna do or get paid for. Who cares?" Cass shrugs. She takes a step and falls into a pitfall.

"The Pillows!" Raymond summons his Estado. She has pink hair and cat ears. She has a television for a head and a feminine mechanical body with an organic pink tail. She extends her arms in the pit to grab Cassandra and pull her out.

"I already accepted my death but thanks TP." Cass says, unfazed by her certain doom.

"NYAAA~!" A cat face appears on the screen and she does the Tokyo Mew Mew pose before disappearing behind her User.

"Try to be careful next time. Beaches are known to have pitfalls." Ray goes back to his cellphone.

"How peculiar? I remember there not being one a moment ago." Cassandra examines the hole, when a football hits her face. Hard.

"Oh my goodness! I'm so sorry!" A hunk with blonde hair and blue eyes helps her up. "Are you okay?"

"Other than possibly having a concussion, I'm functionally fine." Cass is starting to have a headache.

"I have some ice that can help your bump, if you like? We also have water if you need." Cassandra gets very close to him and caresses his chiseled chest.

"Tell me, you think I didn't notice? When I first arrived, your other boys pulled the same stunt to other girls earlier. I also caught them putting something in the water bottles before passing it to the beautiful maidens that fell to your trap." The man is sweating profusely. "But your worst mistake was targeting me."

"Get off of me, you crazy bitch!" He pushes her.

"BOOM BOOM SATELLITES!" A being materializes behind her. She has a black and green jumpsuit with a motorcycle helmet covering her head. Devil wings adorn her back and has a tail with the tip being heart shaped. She punches the man's gut with such force, that it sends him flying and crashing against his cooler.

"What the fuck!?" The boys check up on him as he's convulsing in pain and pleasure. Then he ejaculates a heavy volume of semen. The police finally arrived.

"What's going on?" Victor runs up to Raymond.

"I called the police for the crimes that fill this beach. Seems Cass found another scandal in progress." He faces Victor. "I mainly called them because the woman you were with fits the description of an active serial rapist."

"You son of a bitch! And you guys let me go with her!?"

"Don't worry. I would've tailed you if you both left the perimeter. Plus, I trust in your ability to defend yourself." He goes back to his phone as the officers apprehended the woman and the group of boys. The police had to call paramedics as the hunk is completely dehydrated. "Cass! Let's get out here." Him and Victor walk back to the car.

"..." Cassandra witnesses the arrest and then back to the hole. "I'm coming!" She catches up to them. When they reach the car, the tires have been slashed.

"Victor." Raymond says.

"Yeah?" He looks at him and steps back. Despite still having a neutral expression, he can sense anger coming from him.

"I hope you find the perpetrator that did this. Because if I find them, there will be a memorial for their tragic accident. And everytime I come here, I will visit the site to remind them of their place."

"Raymond. Let's not get carried away." Victor tries to calm him down.

"There's no need to look for them. I already know who did it." They turn to Cassandra. "I've been thinking for a while now. All these misfortunes that have been happening in such a short span of time, while mathematically plausible, is improbable." She pulls out her phone. "I secretly installed a hidden camera in the room that Robert resides, while pretending to give a damn about the antiques."

"Are you implying the curse is real?" Victor says.

"As I said before, curses don't exist. Estados are another story. But that will only matter if my theory is true." She opens the app for the live feed. The group huddles together. The glass case that's supposed to keep Robert is empty.

"He's gone!" Victor reacts.

"I can see that, Vicky. No need to state the obvious. This is a clear indication that the doll is sentient." Cassandra puts away her phone.

"A Living Doll. Energy of deceased females that are trapped inside a doll. Most of the time, it's victims that are placed inside an object. Other times, the person who lost their loved ones projects it on the doll, giving it life." Raymond explains. "Or in this case, a legend that gave it sentience."

"I guess you were somewhat right, Vicky. Though no one would imagine Robert to be a Monster Girl due to his assigned gender. The question now is, how did it follow us and does it have an Estado?" Cassandra examines the car and finds scratches on the trunk. Raymond opens it and they find Robert inside holding a box cutter.

"Oh shit! It's Ro-!" Cass covers Victor's mouth.

"So you were hiding in my trunk. I don't care if you're a relic of history, I will ravage you for your crimes!" Raymond summons The Pillows. Robert lunges at him with the weapon.

"NYAYAYAYAYAYA!" TP punches him repeatedly. With the final strike sending him flying against the hood. Robert quickly gets up with no problems and scurries away.

"Get that mothafucka!" Cassandra commands. The crowd are focused on the arrest, that they fail to notice the Three Stooges chasing after a doll. They chase him all the way to a warehouse. Robert quickly gets in through an open door and shuts it. "Like that'll stop us." She summons BBS.

"Wait! Let me check something. Veltpunch!" Victor calls out his Estado. She is a humanoid bottlenose dolphin with a VR headset both on her head and where the tail should be. She wears the Miami Heat jerseys.

"OAO~!" She screeches. He puts on the headset and she places her hand on the wall. Using her echolocation, he can see the inside in white outlines from the darkness.

"That guy is fast. I can't see him. He must be hiding somewhere already." Victor says.

"Then what are we waiting for?" Cassandra commands BBS to bust the door open. They enter the building. The place is dark. She switches the lights on and they see stacks of inventory on the shelves. They walk around with caution, while Victor is echo locating. She notices a big box from the top shelf falling above Victor. She tackles him out of the way.

"There he is!" Raymond points him out as Robert runs away. He pushes more boxes. Raymond uses TP to punch the objects, but doing so causes the kitchen knives to fall on him. He luckily covers his head with arms as it slashes his hands.

"Kahahahaha!" Robert laughs and then goes deeper inside.

"Are you both fine?" Cassandra checks on Raymond.

"I'll live. Won't be much use anymore though." He rips part of his tuxedo to bandage his hands.

"Take care of him, Vicky." She says before chasing after Robert. He keeps pushing objects off, but she evades it. The entire shelf on her right is falling towards her. She runs faster and dives out of the way before it hits the ground. "You want to play that game, huh?" She summons BBS to push the shelf where Robert stands. He jumps to another, but she keeps toppling over the shelves. This process keeps repeating, until they reach the end of the room. Robert dives at her, ready to stab her with the box cutter. BBS repeatedly punches him in the air.

"A Crow is White!" He summons a white harpy with a head of crow. She has a sailor outfit like the User. She repeatedly scratches BBS with her sharp talons, causing damage on their arms and chest. Cassandra backs away.

"Hmph. It seems attacking you directly does nothing to you." She removes her shirt to prevent it from getting more damaged. Showing off her sports bra and fit body. "Now it's starting to make sense. The curse that the story tells is because you use your Estado to cause misfortune."

"Aren't you a sharp one? While I knew you had potential, I didn't expect your servants to have one too!" He flails around like a child.

"Servants? Are you talking about my friends?"

"Friends? You can't fool me, Succubus! I've been around way before I became a legend and I know for a fact your kind don't care about human relationships. It makes me sick! All that moaning, meat slapping against each other, exchanging each other's bodily fluids...IT'S DISGUSTING!!"

"Ugh. I'm developing a tumor by you speaking."

"Whatever! I'll make sure you and your boy toys are dead!" He pulls out a revolver. Cassandra hides behind the shelf, while Crow and BBS are fighting. Robert keeps shooting at her until the gun runs out of bullets. He quickly tries to reload, but only manages to put one bullet when Cassandra throws a vase at him, making him drop the weapon.

"Grab the gun!" She commands BBS. She has her hand on the cylinder, before Robert snatches it away and quickly points at Cassandra. He pulls the trigger, but the bullet explodes, causing his arm to be blown off.

"Aaaah!" He screams in pain. One of Crow's wing is detached.

"BBS can make anything it touches to overdrive." She walks towards him menacingly

"W-WAIT! You can't destroy me! I'm an important part of history. I'm the reason people go into the museum in the first place! Not to mention you buffoons are caught on cameras." He points at the security cam.

"I'm not worried about that. Ray is already altering the footage so we don't appear. As for you!" She stomps on him. "I'm sure they'll replace you with the many replicas. You think the staff will admit they lost their famous doll?" BBS starts rapidly punching Crow, dealing massive damage to both of them.

"FLY OOOOOOOUT!" BBS battle cries, finishing off by detaching Crow's head with an uppercut. Robert's head detaches as well and hits the ceiling. She catches the head.

"Que la Diabla te joda en el infierno."

Robert the Doll is out of commission

She collects his remains in a plastic bag and dumps it in a trashcan. They are at Raymond's car waiting for someone to fix his tires.

"I can't believe you actually destroyed him." Victor says.

"He had it coming for hurting my baby. I wish I was there to witness his demise." Raymond says.

"Overall, it was a fun day!" Cassandra stoically cheers.

"There's never a boring day with you guys." Victor sighs.

"All that excitement has made me hungry. When we get back home Vicky, I need your semen for my shake." She sits on the hood.

"I think I need to sleep before that." She stares at him intensely. "...Fine fine. Raymond, you got any good material for me?"

"As a matter of fact, I found a hentai about a Japanese man fucking his brother's foreign wife. I don't condone cheating, but the animation is sadly good." They talk amongst each other, while Cassandra put on her headphones to listen to her jam.

Kokomo - The Beach Boys

Everybody knows a little place like Kokomo

Now if you want to go and get away from it all

Go down to Kokomo

Aruba, Jamaica, oh I want to take you to

Bermuda, Bahama, come on pretty mama

Key Largo, Montego, baby why don't we go

Oh I want to take you down to

Kokomo, we'll get there fast and then we'll take it slow

That's where we want to go, way down in Kokomo

#original writing #rating: mature #action #eccentric