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plasticferal · 6 months

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hate that i love you | matt sturniolo.

authors note: i am sickly obsessed with his mattitude so i had to, also not really proof read so sorry, i’m tired.

warnings: dom!matt, fem!reader, angst, mentions an argument, explicit language, physical and verbal degrading and kind of rough, unprotected sex. reader discretion advised.

the dramatic clinking sound of ice cubes hitting the glass was enough to make your eyes snap open. you had chosen to sleep on the lounge as opposed to with matt after a heated argument. you were prone to arguments, but tonight in particular, tore the house apart.

tiredly, you raise from the lounge to watch where the noise was occurring, hearing him pour himself a drink. “didn’t mean to wake you,” his low voice travels through the silent, dark house. you roll your eyes, knowing he purposely made no efforts in being quiet.

“whatever, matthew.” you huff, tense from the distaste in his full name. sliding your body off the couch, you shuffle into the now brightly lit kitchen. ignoring him completely, you brush past him coldly to grab a glass from a top shelf, feeling his eyes on you as your shirt lifts with a stretch. you turn around and stare at him, waiting for him to move away from the sink that you need to access.

he rolls his eyes, stepping to the side. his lower back is resting against the kitchen island, one of his hands' curves around the counter while the other wraps around his beverage. annoyed, you flick the tap on, letting the water rush heavily before slamming it shut.

“can you calm down?” you hear him cut through the tension.

you chug down your water glass, wiping your mouth with the back of your hand before locking your eyes with him, waving the empty glass in your hand and making it clear that you’re lowering it into the sink at a slow pace, to satisfy him. calmly. more or less to shut him up.

before you get a chance to leave the kitchen, matt's hand lunges forward to wrap around your wrist, an unexpected touch. your face is flat as you look at him, wondering what on earth he could possibly have to say.

“no goodnight kiss?” his words are underlined with mock, knowing how much it would get under your skin. you pull your hand out of his to storm off, but not before muttering something under your breath.

“asshole,” you aim toward the hallway cupboard to collect blankets for the couch, where you intended to sleep.

your fights lately have been escalating, but tonight was the final straw. this fight was still fresh in your mind. you remember slamming the laundry basket of clothes against the wall and him yelling that the neighbours could probably hear you. you didn’t care. you remember him saying maybe you two should take a break, that it was getting too much. but there was no such thing as a ‘break’ in your mind. just a break up.

he chuckles bitterly, having heard your whisper. you wave him off with your hand. he gives you a “whatever,” before you leave momentarily. you return with a white soft knitted blanket and silk pillow that you typically slept with in your arms. you throw them on the couch with a defeated sigh.

“don’t be ridiculous, you’re not sleeping on the couch, come on,” you hear him speak, sauntering into the dimly lit open living space and placing his hands on the back the couch.

“yes i am.” you look at him.

“no, you’re not.” he debates, almost thinking this conversation is a game.

“stop telling me what to do, i’m so sick of you,” you grumble with clenched teeth, as you begin to tuck one of the blankets into the couch cushions.

“fine, whatever sleep on the fucking couch, i don’t care anymore,” he turns his shoulder on you abruptly, and your eyes go wide.

“like you cared at all in the first place?” you pushed back, arms folding across your chest as a wall to defend your feelings. your words were coming from a place of hurt. of course he cared about you. but for a while it seemed as though he didn’t want to.

“don’t you dare say i never cared,” he turns back and points a finger at you, firing up in defence. "i still do, you just don't appreciate shit," and his words are clearly in retaliation.

“god, i hate you sometimes,” you thought that sentence came out in your head, but it didn't. you speak out loud. he freezes, eyebrows scrunching in query. he steps forward slowly.

“what did you just say?”

you look down at your feet, flushed with remorse but more confusion on if what you said, you meant. you grind your teeth together, contemplating whether you should even look up at him.

you ignore his question, choosing instead to lock your eyes with his, almost feeling like a stare-off. his hair is a mess and still wet from his shower earlier, his white tee-shirt contrasts his dark tattoos, and his sweats hang dangerously low on his waist. all things you wish you couldn't see. your own arms cross over your chest, mirroring him. he takes a small step forward.

“you didn’t hate me last night when i had you clawing at my back,” his voice lowers an octave, making you drop eye contact with him to gaze at anything but his face, knowing it would just make your words catch in your throat.

“because we didn’t fight last night” you fire back quickly, starting to walk into the dining room. trying not let him get under your skin.

“we fight every night, y/n!” he huffs a bitter laugh and follows you, throwing his hands up as he speaks.

“because you’re never happy!” you pause your steps with scoff, mimicking the way he talks with dramatic gestures before turning on your heels and storming off once again, or attempting to at least.

matt grabs your arm, longer limbs making it effortless for him. tugging you to toward his chest and you collide with him. matt's lips are inches apart from yours, breathing heavily from the exasperating bickering.

“don’t walk away from me,” he states firmly, eyes darting up and down your face. a smile threatens to curve your lips, knowing it would just tip him over the edge. you take the initiative to lean in closer, lingering so close to his face you can feel his breath, body heat and light peach fuzz that covers both of your skin. with your voice soft and gentle, you utter your next sentence.

“fuck you.”

his eyebrow perks up and jaw tenses slowly. his stark blue eyes darken, looking deep into yours. an easy, smug smirk pulls and dimples appear in his cheeks.

"as you wish, sweetheart,” he speaks in a relaxed manner.

his fingers brush against your hip bone, sending a chill across your side. you want to lean into his delicate touch, but keep your self control together. you push his hand away, sharing a sharp, distasteful huff.

“you think that will resolve this?” you narrow your eyes, daring his response. he raises his hand slowly to brush them across your cheek, down your jawline. creating a flowing rhythm further down your neck, warm fingers past your collar bone.

“with how hard i’d make you cum, yeah, i do” his response is fearless and direct, like any other confident line that has ever left his pretty, smart mouth. you feel excitement trying to push through the stern front you’re attempting to keep up.

“i’d like to see you live up to that,” you retort, making his hand stop at your hip to grip tightly, pressing deep into your bone and tugging the lower half of your body to touch his.

“baby, i can live up to my word on one condition,” matty speaks. you wait for him to continue, but he doesn’t waste a second in sliding his hands down the back of your thighs to lift you up, turning you around to place on the cold wood of the dining table.

“don’t talk back.” and just like that, he was over the edge. he forces you in place, shuffling your shirt up past your hips eagerly. you support yourself on your elbows and lean back to still be able to see him, and allow him to take control.

his coarse, hot hands plant themselves at your side, thumbs digging deep into the crease where your hip meets your leg. the pressure was sure to leave a sore spot in the morning. spreading you open for his pleasure, he dips his head down to brush his lips along the inside of your thighs. he starts at your knee, and you feel his breath as he travels closer to your heat, teasing you.

you crave him to come closer, to make more contact. knowing what you want only makes him do the opposite. he brings two fingers to your black lace panties, pulling them to the side, whereas usually you’d help guide them off. while his fingers are there, the takes his middle and ring finger and slides them through your folds, feeling the pool that’s starting between your legs.

“matt-” you exhale.

“shut up.” he doesn’t give you a chance to merely breathe his name, hand holding your lace to the side and mouth attaching to your cunt. his tongue scoops upwards, soft yet firm. he enjoys going down you more than he’ll ever admit, but when he thinks he has the upper hand in a disagreement, your punishment is having to let him focus. therefore, no speaking.

you feel him flick your clit, before making a stripe back from the start. he keeps attacking with his tongue, moving his mouth rhythmically but not focusing on your sweet spot as he doesn’t want to overwhelm you just yet.

his free hand leaves your thigh and makes his way to your heat, the tip of his middle finger tempting your entrance before he spits harshly, making you hum, as he slides in slowly. you gasp as his finger curves inside you, exploring you. inserting a second finger, he quickens his pace, thrusting into you hard and firm, tips brushing your walls with every push.

you grind into the palm of his hand with a heavy moan, friction from both matty and the table beneath you stimulating every moment. his tongue fixates again on your cunt, moving fast. you’re desperate for more, and he’s dragging out every second he can. you try to encourage his movement, running a hand through his perfect subtle curls. you grip his soft brown hair between your fingers, pushing him down to force pressure.

“y/n, keep your hands to yourself,” he swats your hands away, and you groan in annoyance at the loss of momentum.

“but i need more,” you almost demand with irritation, seeing as though this was not only his idea, but emphasising the pent up annoyance lingering from the fight earlier. all he wants is for you to be quiet and take it. you’re a challenge for him.

“like the needy slut you are." he states.

“actions speak louder than words.” you counter.

“fuck are you gonna stop talking or do i have to make you?” matt groans, growing more direct.

“i never agreed to stop.” you rebutted. he laughs with a scoff, licking in the inside of his cheek slowly. he leans up to straighten his posture, looking down at you with his hips flush against the table.

“y’wanna be that way? okay,” he exhales while slipping his thumbs into the waistband of his sweatpants, pulling them down teasingly to show the soft pale skin sharply leading down to his already hardening cock, pressing against his boxers. it’s all your eyes can focus on.

“turn around.” he speaks faint, raspy. when you take a few seconds too long to manoeuvre your body the way he desires, he takes it upon himself, forcing you by your hips and pressing into your lower back to flip you over. his strength is beyond you, and there’s no chance you’re unable to be manhandled. you’re on your knees, ass out for his viewing pleasure on this huge table. you still use your elbows as support, back arching.

his right hand crawls around over to your face from behind, around your neck, then up to your lips. the fingers that were inside you make their way into your mouth, prying your lips apart and forcing entrance to make you taste yourself.

he keeps them there, using his free hand to slide his boxers until they fall. he traces the arch of your spine. when he reaches the curve just below your ribs, he abruptly grabs your body, pulling you toward his waist.

you feel the tip of his cock push against your exposed perineum, warm and wet, inching closer to your entrance where he finally fills you. you moan as he swallows his own, heavy exhaling with relief as he slides out and slams into you heavily.

he repeats his motions once your body gives him the green light, thrusting into you at a steady pace, giving you time to feel his full raw movement when he pulls back before aggressively crashing your skin together. you can feel the sweat starting to glaze your skin, rocking back and forth with each moment. you moan with each stroke of his thick throbbing cock, the friction becoming a fire between your core.

“gonna try speak with my fingers in your mouth, huh?” he grunts, still thrusting into you deeply.

without warning, he brings his free hand down to the side of your thigh with a hard spank, stinging badly. you gasp, teeth digging into his fingers as he makes a mess of your saliva all over your lips and chin, not being able to keep his hand still.

matty prides himself on how long he can last, and his stamina meaning he has the time and patience to edge you until you’re on the verge of tears. you can feel the familiar feeling of a climax buzzing in your stomach, nearing closer with the consistent pace. you bring a hand up to put pressure on your already sensitive clit, making you shutter.

he finally pulls his fingers from your mouth and you pant, cussing and yelling "fuck, shit, s'good" your eyes shut tight, trying to match his pace and slap your ass into him while he thrusts. he slaps your cheek just hard enough to snap your eyes open, and you realise you're being far too loud.

he curves himself over your body so his chest is pressed on your back and he bites your shoulder, leaving marks all over your upper back. he bites hard enough to make you wince, and it's a very clear punishment for you.

"says i don’t care," he mutters, recalling the words you spoke earlier. he never drops anything easily. he'll use anything against you when he has you a moaning mess underneath him. he thrusts slow and hard, the noise so loud and hard you cry out.

"you hate me now, princess?" another hard, almost painful thrust. his thick cock fills you and hits so deep, feeling him the entire time and heavy in your cunt.

"n-no," you cry out again, feeling a tear slip. he'll never admit it, but the sight of your face wet from tears is the prettiest image for him. he wan't to be the only one to make it happen, and the only one to kiss it better, wipe your face, kiss it better.

"yeah, that's what i thought," thrust. he picks up his pace again and you know you can't last long.

"i'm gonna cum, matt, i- i need to," your breathing is jagged and voice is strained. you feel yourself clench around him and matt grabs your ass with his hands, repositioning to pull you back and forth aggressively onto his cock, and you're gripping the table so tight.

"god you feel so good. this pussy is so fucking good," he speaks through tight teeth. the moment you scream out and let your body collapse he pulls out and you feel his warm cum land all over your lower back.

"sh-shit, fuck," he moans out his climax, in a shuttering breath, the sweetest sound you could ever hear. he slaps your ass again, making you kneel up.

"cm'here" he uses your own shirt to clean you, wiping you down before helping you off the table. your legs are jelly, so you hold onto him tight.

"come back to bed?" he asks, wrapping your arms around his shoulders to keep you standing. you nod, and he starts guiding you both toward his room. you pull him back to face you.

"i don't hate you, matt" you bring your lips up to his, kissing him softly. he doesn't kiss back.

"not what i wanna hear," he shakes his head. you hesitate, leaning back to think. you really do not want to escalate it, but you think it's more suited to give him a taste of his own medicine.

"i hate that i love you," you look him in the eyes. he laughs through his nose, an exhale of air.

"i'll take that," he leans down, connecting your lips. he wraps his hand around the back of your neck, pulling you closer, pressing harder. squeezing lightly. he pulls back, brushing your noses together.

"i hate that i love you too, baby," he starts.

suddenly leaning over he’s sweeping his arms under your thighs, carrying you bridal style. you hold onto him tight, letting a laugh out as he yawns.

"now let's go to bed before we break up again."

#matt sturniolo #matthew sturniolo #matt sturniolo fic #matt sturniolo smut #matt sturniolo one shot #matt sturniolo imagine #matt sturniolo x reader #matt sturniolo fanfic #sturniolo triplets

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vioartemis · 7 months

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Two’s company, three’s a crowd (Part 3)

(Tara Carpenter x fem! reader || Sam Carpenter x fem! reader)

Summary: Things aren't really going well after what happened, and a new murder spree does not help. Part 1 || Part 2 || Part 3 Warnings: violence, blood, death, Ghostface, explicit language at one point, angst maybe (?) a/n: honestly I was on freestyle mode the whole time so idk if that even make sense 😭 (English isn't my first language, I'm sorry if there are mistakes or if something doesn't make sense TvT)

The atmosphere was tensed at the apartment. Tara wasn’t talking to you or her sister, and you both felt bad for hurting her. Sam for ‘stealing’ the girl she loved, and you for breaking her heart after giving her hope.

You tried to tell her in the less hurtful way possible, but that kind of thing always hurt, no matter how you handle it.

As if it wasn’t enough, their roommate, Quinn, wouldn’t stop making dirty jokes about you and Sam, not caring if Tara was in the room. You liked the redhead, she was nice, but sometimes you just prayed someone would make her shut up.

Quinn wasn’t exactly known to be quiet. She was pretty loud even. Especially when she was getting fucked by whatever guy she brought back to the apartment. Which happened like everyday.

It was part of the reason why Sam and you spent most nights at your apartment, so the mood isn’t ruined by Quinn’s moans. It was also to give Tara some space, and to keep a distance between her and your sexual life.

This night, however, you were at Sam and Tara’s apartment; after the news announced a murder in the neighborhood and that a Ghostface mask was found on the crime scene, it was the best thing to do.

Everyone was gathered in the apartment: Sam, Tara, Quinn, Anika, Mindy and Chad. You were making dinner with Sam while the others were chatting in the living room -minus Quinn who was in her room.

While you were watching the pastas, you felt Sam’s arms wrap around your waist from behind. She rested her chin on your shoulder.

“Thank you for staying… I mean- you could’ve left New York and-”

You turned around to face her, her arms still around you.

“Hey, I’m not leaving you here. We don’t even know if it’s really Ghostface, maybe it’s some kind of joke. Whatever it is, I’m staying with you, okay?”

She smiled softly, touched by your words. She kissed your lips and stayed close to them after pulling away.

“I appreciate it, but I don’t want you to get hurt…”

“I’ll be okay, I promise” you replied immediately, kissing her again

She hummed and kissed your forehead before going back to preparing dinner while saying:

“Your pan is overflowing, baby”

You quickly turned back to it and took it off the stove.

“You could’ve told me earlier!” you whisper-shouted

Sam chuckled.

“Sorry, I preferred kissing you”

You rolled your eyes with a smile, grabbing a sponge to wipe the water off the stove.

Suddenly, you heard noises coming from Quinn’s room. Not that it was unusual, but this time it didn’t sound like moans. Rather muffled screams.

You looked at Sam, then at the others, who apparently heard it too.

You walked a bit closer to her room.

“Quinn? Everything alright?”

No answer.

The noises in the room became slightly louder; you could hear fight noises now, as if someone was thrown against a wall, or the pieces of furniture were thrown across the room.

“Shit”

You tried to go in the room but Tara and Sam held you back.

“Y/n, no!” Tara said, holding your hand tightly

Sam agreed, her arm in front of you.

“Whatever is happening it does not sound good! We can’t-” you paused; the noises had stopped “Why did it stop?”

You looked at the others, fear rising.

The door burst opened, taking you all by surprise, and a bloodied Quinn was thrown forward, falling on Anika. You tried to help her up, but were dragged away by Tara, allowing you to dodge Ghostface’s knife.

She started running to the door, hand still holding yours. You were almost at the door when you were pulled backwards by your hair, causing you to let go of Tara’s hand.

“Y/n!”

She took a step closer to you.

“No! Go, Tara!”

She looked at you hesitantly, not wanting to leave you in that situation. Ghostface didn’t let her more time to think and kicked the door closed before slamming your head against it. You swore you heard your nose crack.

When the grip on your hair loosened, you fell on the floor. You felt dizzy, the world was spinning around you.

You felt someone lift you up and carry you for a few seconds. Things were all blurry around, and when your senses came back to normal, you saw blood all over the room.

“Shit…”

Anika was next to you, bleeding. Sam, Mindy and Chad were trying to push Quinn’s cupboard against the door leading to the bathroom.

Ghostface was banging against the door, to the point it was shaking. It was clear it wouldn’t last long.

“It’s not going to last! We need to find a way to get out of here!” Chad said

You silently agreed. Having regained your composure, you ripped off a part of Quinn’s sheets and tried to tie it around Anika to slow down the bleeding.

Mindy let her brother and Sam holding the door and took a look at the window.

“If we tie the sheets we could escape by the window!” she said

“Or we could just open the other door and flee the apartment” you whispered loud enough only for your friends to hear

They all look at you with wide eyes.

“That’s… that’s actually a good idea”

“Thanks Chad. Now we might want to hurry up, quietly”

"Wait, who goes first?" Chad asked

"Anika. Then Mindy, Sam and you"

"No no no, you go before me. You're hurt." Sam declared

"I'm fine, I promise. Trust me, okay?"

She didn't move, hesitant, before nodding reluctantly.

You gave Anika and Mindy a nod, signal for them to go and open the door as quietly as they could. They did and walked to the apartment door, which they opened as well. Chad followed them soon after they left you field of vision.

You were now alone with Sam, trying to keep Ghostface busy with the bathroom door.

"Go!" you whispered to your girlfriend

She gave you an unsure look; the door was going to break soon, and she didn't want you to die.

"Sam, go! I'll be right behind you, I promise" you reassured her quietly

She finally nodded and walked to the door.

Almost as soon as she left, Ghostface managed to kick the door open, causing you to stumble away due to the shock. He was soon on you again, pushing you on the floor, and tried to stab you.

You didn't have time to think and protected yourself with your left hand. You felt the blade sink right through it.

You thought it was over. You were going to die there. There was no way you could defend yourself, not when every fast movement made your head spin.

Luckily, Sam hadn't gone too far already, and came to rescue you. She slammed the knife stand on his head as violently as she could and kicked him in the face too.

That seemed to work, because Ghostface was on the floor, trying to regain composure.

Sam didn't lose any second and lifted you up before carrying you out of the apartment and down to the street. When you got down there, everyone was here.

An ambulance didn't take long to arrive.

They took care of Anika first, as she was the most hurt of the group. Then they checked your forehead, opened due to your head being slammed against the door, and bandaged up your hand after stitching it up.

While the police what interrogating Sam, Tara came to you.

"How are you feeling?" she asked quietly

It was obvious she felt guilty for letting you in while she was safe outside.

"I'm okay, it's nothing too serious, don't worry" you reassured her She hesitated for a minute, before hugging you tightly.

"I was so scared... A-after the door closed I- I tried to go back inside but.." she sniffled "If I were there maybe I could’ve protected you…”

"Hey.." you hugged her back as best as you could "I'm okay, I promise"

"But your head, a-and your hand...

You rubbed your forehead.

"That's nothing. And that..." you looked at your wounded hand "Hey, we're twinning now!"

Your words caught her by surprise but caused her to chuckle slightly.

"Yeah, we're twinning now" she said with a little smile

After that, Anika stayed at the hospital. Mindy was chosen to keep her company and protect her -just in case. Gale and Kirby joined your little group, as did detective Bailey -Quinn's dad- and Ethan, who 'had e-con' when Ghostface attacked the apartment. He wasn't really convincing though... maybe he was the one who attacked you.

Thanks to Gale's help, you discovered a shrine dedicated to Ghostface and the previous Woodsboro murders. The one who did that clearly was obsessed with everything Ghostface related.

After that, Kirby 'kicked' Gale out of the group -saying it was not a place for a journalist-causing her to get attacked at her apartment. You were all afraid another original was about to die, and you hoped she would be okay.

After Gale's attack, you tried to elaborate a plan to kill Ghostface, and decided to lure him into the shrine, lock him in, and kill him.

"We should go there using the train" someone said

It was a terrible idea. There were so many people. Too many people.

You got separated from the rest of the group almost immediately. Luckily -or not- Ethan was with you. You took out your phone and texted Sam to tell her you had to take the next train.

Surprisingly, nothing bad happened on the way to the shrine. It was even a bit odd, considering it was a perfect occasion to attack Ethan and you.

You were almost at the shrine's door when you felt something hit the back of your head violently.

You knew it was going too well to last.

When you opened your eyes, you were inside the shrine, tied up.

“Ah, great, you’re awake. Perfect timing, really”

You turned around to see detective Bailey coming towards you.

“W-wait Ghostface, he-” you started, before being cut off

“I know, I know” the man said as he lifted you up and led you to the main room of the shrine.

When you got there, you saw Sam and Tara being held hostages by two people; Ethan -as you could have predicted- and…

“Quinn?”

“Hey pretty girl” she smirked and waved at you, knife in hand

You were completely lost; she was supposed to be dead!

In your confusion, you noticed Chad was nowhere to be found, and so was Kirby. You hoped they were safe.

“Enough talking.” Detective Bailey declared, pressing his knife against your throat “Now Y/n… I’ve been told you had trouble making choices”

Quinn winked at you.

“I figured you might want some help” she said

“It’s just a little plus to what we planned” Ethan added

“What? What are you talking about?” you asked

“Let me explain simply” the older man started. He pointed at Sam and Tara. “You get to choose who lives, and who dies”

Your eyes widened at his words.

What…?

You looked over at Sam, held by Quinn, knife dangerously close to her throat, then at Tara, whom Ethan was keeping still, also threatening her.

“So, Y/n? What do you decide?” the redhead asked

“Fuck you” you spat

“I’d rather fuck you, honestly” she smirked “If you knew how many times I’ve wanted to just pin you against a wall and fuck you right there, I-”

She didn’t have time to finish her sentence, as Sam threw her head back, hitting the other girl right in the face. Taken aback, she let her guard down, which allowed your girlfriend to take the knife from her hand.

Next to them, Tara managed to kick Ethan where it hurts, and tried to take his knife as well.

If Bailey was surprised by all that sudden action, he didn’t show any sign of it. Instead, he plunged his knife right in your stomach.

“I wouldn’t do that if I were you” he told the girls, who were about to stab the two other Ghostface

They turned to look in your direction and stopped all movements. They were hesitant now.

“Drop your weapons, now.” the man said

As they weren’t moving, considering all the possibilities, he twisted the knife to the side, making you whimper in pain and spit out some blood.

“Okay okay, stop!” Sam said, almost pleading him to stop hurting you

“You know what to do if you want me to stop”

He punctuated his words with another twist of the knife in your stomach.

Sam dropped the knife, and so did Tara.

As Quinn and Ethan bent down to grab their weapons again, a gunshot was heard and Bailey’s legs seemed to get weak. You took the opportunity to escape his grip.

Sam kicked Quinn in the face as she was still bent over, probably breaking her nose in the process -and maybe even a few teeth. Tara was quicker than Ethan to grab the knife, but slower to get back up. He grabbed her by the throat and tried to choke her, laughing like a psycho. The smaller girl had trouble moving.

Her sister was busy fighting Quinn, so you were the one to help her.

You took the knife from her hand and stabbed Ethan in the mouth.

“Don’t. Fucking. Touch her.” you said as you twisted the blade in his mouth, before pulling it out, letting his body fall to the floor

You turned to Tara.

“Are you okay…?”

She nodded, and was quick to hold you when she saw you stumbling.

“Are you okay? You’re bleeding a lot…”

She was worried, and afraid you were losing too much blood.

Sam soon arrived next to you, as concerned as her sister.

“Tara, please, can you try to slow down the bleeding?” she asked her

The youngest nodded.

“What are you going to do?” she asked her sister

Sam turned to where Bailey was, starting to stand up while holding his bleeding leg.

“Take care of him.” She said with a stern, cold voice

Tara led you away from the fights and took care of you. You were barely conscious at this point.

You didn’t see Sam and Kirby close to Bailey. You didn’t hear Kirby tell Sam she would just shoot him and it will be over. You didn’t hear Sam deny her, and stab the man at least 30 times, punctuated each stab with cold words, filled with venom.

She was so mad he hurt you. She was enraged. No one had the right to hurt you. No one had the right to even lay a finger on you.

<><><><> ♡ <><><><>

Months after this day, everything was back to normal; you were happy with Sam, and Tara had moved on. She even had her eye on someone.

Your wounds were healed, and the only remaining thing of them were scars. As you thought, you now had a matching scar with Tara, on your left hand. And just like her you had to train your hand everyday so you could use it properly again. Some nerves were cut when the blade went through your hand, which wasn’t the best thing.

But let’s see the positive: it gave you an opportunity to spend more time with Tara and bound together over something, even if it wasn’t the thing you would’ve imagined.

You braided each other’s hair every day, and you were regaining more and more control over your hand. It was like before, just you and your best friend.

Sam’s relation with her sister also improved after the events. They took time to talk, to really talk and listen to each other.

To say it briefly, you were back to an almost normal life, and you hoped it would last.

[Previous part]

#scream #tara carpenter #tara carpenter x reader #tara carpenter x fem reader #samantha carpenter #sam carpenter #sam carpenter x fem reader #sam carpenter x reader #scream vi

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bsxcrxts · 6 months

Note

Luke + “Can I watch you?” (get some of that voyeurism in there mayhaps?) (also hugs, i definitely know how this situation feels)

I got carried away <3 merry chrysler

warnings: 18+ only! minors do not interact with my posts! reader with afab body but no gendered terms, mild risk-taking, accidental voyeurism, dubious consent but both reader and Luke are into it. not proofread.

A/N: about 1.3k! I didn't have a reason why they're on the Falcon but I wrote this imagining it was a post-ROTJ cleanup mission or diplomatic meeting. I struggled to settle on a premise, then made myself laugh at how impractical this would be but it's the fantasy (tm). Would love to maybe expand upon rotj!Luke having simultaneous shame and desire to watch reader/be watched himself. It's not what a good Jedi should want, is it? Anyway! let's get into it!

sounds

The Millennium Falcon has crew quarters. Of course, there has to be somewhere to sleep. But it doesn't mean there has to be any privacy, apparently. You think it's obvious that Han is used to living here alone or with his buddies– the tiny single beds all cramped into one small room, with no walls separating them. You'd liken it to staying in barracks, but even at the rebel bases you'd have your own sleeping space, no matter how small.

You're not used to sharing a room. It's driving you crazy, not having any manner of solitude at any time of the day. You don't mind sleeping in the same room as your friends, except... you're sexually frustrated. It's impossible to take care of your needs with everyone else around.

It would be significantly less difficult if you weren't harboring a huge crush on Luke that you theorize is reciprocated. You couldn't be sure, but he looks at you like that sometimes, like he could see right through you; like he was contemplating something about you, but you never could tell what. You wonder if it has something to do with the Force, but don't ask, mostly because he pretends he wasn't staring when you catch him.

Your relationship with Luke is not cut-and-dry. Having known him a few years, he's changed, and you've grown close, and apart, and close again, but it was never the right moment to tell him how you felt about him. Lately, though, since the end of the war, something has shifted once more, and he's happier. Lighter. Maybe the moment was now? you think for a half second.

You make the mistake of allowing yourself to think of being with Luke for a moment. You imagine kissing him, letting him touch you, and especially, for some reason, him on his knees in front of you.

No, you can’t confess your feelings to Luke like this, not with the deep heat in the pit of your stomach and a wetness growing in your underwear. You scold yourself for feeling needy enough to be sidetracked. If you're this distracted, you reason, you ought to just deal with the problem.

Han, Leia, and Chewie are off-ship doing something important and meaningful to the mission. Luke is fiddling with one of the Falcon's processors and other small repairs, so he's busy, distracted, nonetheless. He shouldn't even notice your absence.

You weigh your options, and head towards your bed, not noticing that the door at the end of the short hallway doesn’t close all the way.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The door to the crew quarters is bizarrely jammed halfway open, and Luke sighs to himself as he prepares to remove the control panel off the wall and fiddle with the wires until it’s fixed. It’s not unusual to him, knowing how much the Falcon has gone through, that something like this might need repairing.

What raises red flags is the tiny noise he hears filtering through the gap in the door— like a quiet gasp of pain or frustration.

Sound carries in the old ship like crazy.

Luke pauses, his mental shields still up. He knows you’re onboard somewhere, but he figured you were restocking supplies or otherwise preoccupied. Why are you in bed? Are you ill?

He hears a faint moan from you, which could have been described no other way but erotic, and he arrives at the startling conclusion that you are not ill at all.

What to do? Well, the appropriate answer would have been to walk away, he reasons, but he can't seem to make himself move at all. Unwisely, he remains motionless outside of the jammed door, as frozen in his tracks as he had literally been on Hoth, but contrary to then, he feels a burning heat as his face flushes red.

"O-oh, mh!" you exhale quietly, but Luke can hear it.

He can hear the soft rocking of the flimsy bedding if he listened hard enough.

And he was listening.

Luke blindly wonders what you look like right now. The door is ajar far enough that he could theoretically look inside, but he'd have to peer around the corner of the room to see you, and he still can't move. He standing like a statue, eyes wide, letting his imagination run wild, untamed and undisciplined.

The embarrassment of not being able to rationalize his way out of this has yet to catch up to him. Polite and proper Jedi do not listen to their beautiful, attractive friend moan and writhe and pleasure themselves, but he's picturing it. He's picturing you, your legs spread and your fingers deep inside your pussy, dripping out onto the sheets unabashedly. Or maybe you're humping a pillow, or teasing your tits, or maybe you've got some type of toy buried inside your cunt, impaled on a dildo that wouldn't even compare with the size of his cock.

Luke suddenly has the thought that he could get you off better than any toy, or even yourself, or that he'd at least like to try. He'd give you anything you wanted, get down on his knees for you–

Luke sets his jaw, trying and failing to snap back to reality. His cock is filling out, more than half-hard in his trousers, pressing uncomfortably against his restrictive pants. He shouldn't touch himself. He won't.

He really, really wants to.

He's interrupted by the sound of your voice again. You're getting louder, and he imagines you getting closer and closer to your impending release.

"Fuck, just fuck me," you whine, to no one in particular, but stars, it sounds a lot like you could be speaking to him.

One hand slides down his torso, lightly palming at his clothed cock, if only for a moment. The brush of contact nearly makes him gasp, but he stifles the feeling, his cock twitching and his stomach muscles tensing. He wishes he could see you so badly. He knows you'd be gorgeous.

Luke also knows he shouldn't allow his mental shields to deteriorate any more than they already have. He shouldn't relax into this, let himself listen to you while he touches his cock. It's wrong. It's against his better judgement. It's scandalous. And it's irresistible.

The second he lets his mental shields dissolve, your emotions overwhelm him. Lust, desire, desperation, for him all come flooding from your mind. He isn't reading your mind, can't picture what you're imagining, but he can feel the need rolling off of you in waves, a subconscious reaching for his presence he doubts you even realize you're projecting.

"oh, Luke," you sigh behind the door, just above a whisper, confirming everything.

This is for him, this is about him. He's nearly dizzy, and he utterly fails to muffle his soft moan as he grasps his cock through his pants.

He immediately senses your distress, mingling with his own. There's some panicked rustling on the other side of the door, before you appear in front of him, hair in a slight disarray, pants low on your hips. You're not angry or upset, but you are startled and self-conscious, shifting and crossing your arms like you can hide from him.

"What–"

"I–"

You and Luke both start speaking at once. There's a beat of silence.

Luke is wrecked in front of you. You know that you don't look much better, but the visible bulge he's sporting as well as the deepest blush on his cheeks that you've ever seen tells you all that you need to know.

It's fun to make him flustered, even though you hadn't started out with that as your intention. You reason that you should probably be mortified, but you can't bring yourself to feel that way when Luke is so obviously affected by you.

You bite your lip and smile a tiny bit at him, allowing your gaze to land on his aching cock, still aching against the restraint of his trousers.

It breaks his resolve.

“Can I watch you?” Luke asks earnestly. It's not what he means to say, but it is what he wants. His breathing is shaking and his shoulders nearly shudder as he asks.

"Sure," you gesture at him to step inside the bedroom, "and if you're good, I'll let you do more than just watch."

#luke 💛#luke skywalker smut #luke skywalker x reader #becca's bs

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sibillascribbles08 · 2 months

Text

Babysitting

Morning, I actually wrote a HypnoWarren fic, sort of. They're already married by this point so

Note the fic also established Jasonnie so if you can't stand that uuuuh sorry bye

Hypno let out a sigh as he sunk into the giant, plush sofa in the living room. He had half a mind to turn on the TV, but after a morning filled with the joyful screams of children at the nearby kindergarten, he preferred the silence. Besides, the light was on over Warren’s door which meant he was currently recording. The less noise the better.

The silence kind of made him want to nap. Maybe just a quick one. He did have to wake up early to get ready, after all.

But just then he heard the faint creak of a door. Hypno glanced down the hall to see one of Warren’s doors open, the light up top going off.

One of his doors, because two smaller ones were built into the main door.

When Donatello built this apartment complex, he took great care to renovate all the flats to accommodate whatever mutants wanted to move in. So for the worm’s bedroom—in which all the furniture was designed for his small size to the point it was practically a house—had a door up top for him to hover out of, and a door on bottom for him to crawl out of.

The upper door opened this time, and Warren hovered into the hall on the little hover scooter that Donatello also built. The worm mainly just used it to get around the building. Otherwise he just sat on Hypno’s shoulder.

Warren looked like he was going to head to the bathroom, but then his gaze met Hypno’s and he smiled.

“You’re home earlier than I thought.” The scooter shot across the room and stopped next to the sofa. “How were the kids?”

“Eh, could have been worse.” Hypno didn’t hesitate to pick his husband up and put him on his shoulder. The hover scooter gently drifted down onto an empty cushion. “Got the new episode recorded?”

“You bet.” Warren beamed, hands on where his hips would be if he still had them. “I was excited to get to work on it this week. Breaking news, famous chef making a comeback with a new restaurant for mutants and yōkai alike.”

Hypno’s ears perked up. “Oh gosh, is the opening next week? We gotta go down and tell Rupert congrats.”

Warren waved a hand. “Way ahead of you. We can tell him on opening night, I got us a reservation. A romantic date and a chance to do a follow up report with a review. The listeners are gonna love it.”

‘Listeners’ referred to the hundreds of mutants and yōkai who tuned into Warren’s weekly news podcast. Not the same as being an anchorman, he often insisted, but it was familiar enough that he enjoyed it. He had fans again, and a means to earn them some extra income.

Plus, mutants and yōkai in the city had been complaining for a while about their lack of personal news outlets. It’s where Warren got the idea in the first place.

“I’m just proud of Rupert.” Hypno leaned back against the sofa. “Took him so long to give up all that crime stuff.”

“Yeah, well, even if Orange Boy hadn’t enticed him with that deal, I’m pretty sure the power houses those turtles turned into would have changed his mind.”

No kidding. Hypno was glad he and Warren started going on the mend years ago. After ruining Leo’s first magic show and having to work at a bagel shop to pay it off, the slider actually did something nice by giving Hypno some work recommendations. With a far more reliable and legal source of income, he and Warren didn’t have to stress too much about a living space.

And when Donnie built this first apartment complex, well, that just sweetened the deal. No insane rent costs. As long as you paid your portion of the utilities and for any damages you caused, the rent was rather low.

He supposed the owner of a very successful tech company didn’t really need the extra money.

“So, what’s the plan for the rest of the day?” Warren knocked Hypno’s top hat off and climbed up on his head. His tiny fingers played with the hippo’s hair. “I need to get to editing that audio, but I can do it tonight. Should we go to the park or something?”

Hypno thought about it for a bit, and was going to fire back a reply, when someone knocked on the door. He immediately turned his head to the right, forcing Warren to look that way as well.

“Who could that be?” The worm muttered. His tone obviously frustrated that they were interrupted.

Hypno got up. “Possibly just a neighbor who ran out of something in their spice cabinet.” It happened more than once. Especially considering that while mutant sightings were common these days, going to the grocery store was still an ordeal.

Hypno didn’t even peek outside before opening the door. He was a bit surprised to see Donatello standing there, but not by much. The turtle lived just a few doors down.

“Oh thank goodness you’re home.” Donnie's eyes looked absolutely exhausted as he closed them and clasped his hands together.

“Sure are, Flapjack,” Warren said. “Need a favor?”

“I know this is extremely short notice. But could the two of you watch Holly this afternoon?”

Now that did surprise Hypno. He knew Holly, of course. He’d seen the infant turtle more than once—mainly because her dads could not stop showing her off—but baby sitting?

“You sure you want us to do that?” Hypno pointed to himself.

Donnie groaned. “Look, Draxum is at work. Holly Blue and Jason are also at work and stuff has gone absolutely off the walls there. They need my help. The sooner I get over there the better so trying to drag one of my siblings over to watch her isn’t an easy option. You guys live right over here.”

Hypno didn’t know if it was worth bringing up their history considering they hadn’t fought in, what, a decade at least.

Still, “I don’t know all that much about infant care.”

Donnie kept running his hands over his face. “Not a problem. She doesn’t act like a typical infant. It’s super easy, I promise, if you guys are free at least.”

“Well—”

“We’re not doing it for free.” Warren mumbled.

“Warren.”

“What?”

“No, it’s fine.” Donnie waved a hand. “If you do this, I’ll waive your water bill for the month.”

The hippo balked at that. Not having to pay for water? That meant he could take as many long soaks in the tub as he wanted. He usually tried to limit it—despite how badly his skin needed it—due to, well, how much water he had to use per bath.

Warren must know exactly what he was thinking, because the worm snapped his fingers. “Deal. Show us what we’ve gotta do.”

“Sure.” The turtle nodded. “Grab anything you think you might need and meet me over there.” He turned and left.

Hypno wasn’t sure they’d need much, and they could always just hop back over here if they did, but Warren insisted they grab a couple of those canned coffee drinks just in case. He also insisted Hypno change out of his work clothes.

Yeah, that was fair.

Now with a much more casual button up, Hypno carried Warren and the coffees over to Donnie’s apartment. The door was propped open so they let themselves in.

Always so surreal how different it looked despite the similar floor layout. Where Hypno and Warren’s apartment was decorated wall to wall with posters and had silly nicknacks and props in every corner, Donnie and Jase’s apartment looked far more sleek. The fancy TV and speaker system, the massive massage recliner chair, and all the purples made it feel like something on a sci-fi themed cruise ship.

But as they followed Donnie to Holly’s room, the entire vibe shifted. At present, the tiny turtle baby mostly stayed in a personalized tank. Not that it was small by any stretch of the word. The tank was custom built, taking up half the room. The entire thing was built in a U shape—likely so you could reach her from anywhere while giving her plenty of space to move around. While some areas looked like a traditional tank, with sand, plants and water, the other half looked like a tiny bedroom. Blankets, pillows, and toys were scattered all over it.

Hypno wondered where the child even was, but the smallest squeak alerted him. He finally spotted her pressing her hands against the glass wall as Donnie reached in and picked her up.

She was definitely bigger than the last time Hypno saw her, but still tiny enough to fit in the turtle’s hand, and therefore Hypno’s as well.

“Okay,” Donnie began, eyes unfocused. “You guys know Holly. Holly, this is Hypno and Warren.”

The baby turtle didn’t even look in their direction. Her attention was completely fixed on her father.

“Good news, you don’t have to bottle feed her. She knows how to drink water and eat solid food, though I recommend you chop it up small for her. There’s a number of containers in the fridge labeled for her, just pick what you like.” Donnie pointed to a pair of bowls in one part of the tank, then a bottle that hung from the glass. “She has water in more than one location, food goes in that bowl.”

“Kinda sounding more like pet sitting than babysitting,” Warren mumbled.

Hypno gave his shoulder a sharp shrug to jostle his husband.

“What?”

“No, you’re right,” Donatello sighed. “But truthfully, even if the mechanics are different it’s not that far removed from raising a human baby. Moving on.” He pointed at Holly, more specifically at the cloth wrapped around her bottom half. “Diapers. We have to custom make them and they’re all cloth. We keep clean ones in that drawer.” He pointed to the dresser that was barely visible over the array of fabrics. Were those just the ones not yet cut up? “Used ones go in that hamper.” He pointed to what looked more like a trashcan than an actual laundry hamper. Probably for smell reduction. “Any questions so far?”

Warren asked, “Do we just leave her in the tank?”

“Pretty much. She’s allowed to wander around this room but only this room. We haven’t baby proofed the rest of the apartment.”

“So why call us?”

“Because she eats. A lot. And she can also get bored pretty easily. And also I just worry a lot about something going incredibly wrong if one of us aren’t around.” His eyes went so wide they looked like they might fall out. Then one of them twitched.

Hypno would suggest the guy take a nap, but that would probably be rejected immediately.

“It’s just the afternoon.” Donnie lowered Holly back into the tank. She let out a few high pitched squeaks of protest. “Jason and I should be back at six at the latest.”

Six? That was more like the whole day considering lunch hadn’t even passed.

But this did seem like a fairly low stress task. Make sure she didn’t hurt herself, toss around some magic to keep her entertained, order some delivery for them to eat?

And also, no water bill for the month.

“We’ve got it.” Warren answered. “Go do what you need to do.”

“Right.” Donatello nodded and went for the door. “You have my number if you have any questions or there’s an emergency or—”

“We’ve got it.” Warren insisted. “Go help your husband out.”

Another nod. Hypno peeked out into the hallway to watch Donnie leave. The turtle gave him a few looks, one more curious and the final one deathly serious. As if to give a brief warning of, “Nothing better happen to my daughter or else.”

And yeah, Hypno knew that. In fact, what worried him the most about this was if something did go wrong, Donatello could blast him and Warren into the next country.

It’d be fine. Low stress.

Hypno went back into the room and sat on the floor. At least there were plenty of cushions around here to use. Holly was already moving about her tank. She went straight for the big pool of water and dove right in.

“Yeesh, four-month old is already swimming.” Warren slid off Hypno’s shoulder and onto his lap. “I bet she’ll be walking in another month.”

Quite possible given that the turtle was already crawling.

“Did you put those coffees in the fridge when you came in?”

Hypno shook his head and got up. “Nah, let me go do that. I’ll locate the food too while I’m at it. Make sure I know where to find it.”

He found the cans still sitting on the small table in front of the sofa where he left them. Hypno picked them up and went to open the fridge. The frigid space was far more organized than his, but not to the point it looked unnatural. Donnie wasn’t kidding either, multiple containers had Holly’s name tapped on the top. Hypno picked up a couple to glance at the contents from the bottom. Looked like sardines, ham slices, and even peeled shrimp.

Hypno put them back and returned to the bedroom. Warren managed to pile some of the cushions together for him to climb up to look into the glass of the tank. Holly pressed herself against it as well, staring at him with her tiny eyes.

“Keeping her entertained, Love?” Hypno stood behind him.

Warren smiled when he looked back. “She seems to be enjoying the silly faces, at least. Why don’t you see how she reacts to some magic?”

Well, why not? Hypno leaned over the top of the tank. Holly almost fell over when she tried to look at him, appearing a bit more nervous.

Then Hypno reached into his sleeve and plucked a flower out of nowhere. The child didn’t laugh or clap, like most children did, but those small eyes widened. Hypno lowered the flower into the tank and she instantly reached for it. Her little fingers wrapped around one of the petals and then she tried to bite it.

Only to quickly reel back and stick out her tongue.

Hypno and Warren both chuckled and he pulled the flower back out. Just in case eating it wouldn’t be good for her.

“Man, this is gonna be the easiest job of our lives.” Warren snapped his fingers.

Hypno shook his head. “Don’t count your rabbits, Love.”

—-------------------------

Well, at least so far it was going well.

The kid really did get bored easily. She needed as much stimulation as some of the toddlers Hypno would do tricks for. And he mainly took the charge for that, on account of the fact he could summon tons of colorful flowers, sashes, and even balloons. He did make the mistake of popping one, however, which resulted in Holly hiding under a few pillows for a solid ten minutes.

Warren lured her out with a snack. She seemed to really enjoy the peeled shrimp.

The biggest problem came from diaper changing, but that was mainly because Warren had to do it with his smaller hands and he had to complain about it the entire time.

Hypno could see right through him, however. Especially after the anchorman washed his hands and picked the kid up to return her to the tank. Her little hands touched his face and she squeaked and the worm melted in an instant.

Maybe it was just due to the rare occurrence that Warren met anyone smaller than him these days. Even human babies were typically larger.

“News flash.” Warren posed as he held her. “The most handsome man in the world spotted with the most adorable child in the world. Ron, take a picture.” He waved his free arm.

Hypno chuckled and took a few shots. “Let’s not turn her into a photo op, Love.”

“Are you kidding, she was built for the camera.” Warren held her up and she giggled.

But not long after that, the kid got wiped out. Hypno placed her in the tank where she immediately curled up in a nest of blankets. The sight of it was so cute, Hypno took another photo. He sent that one to Donnie, just in case the guy needed some reassurance. A miracle the turtle wasn’t spamming them with texts asking if she was safe.

Donnie replied with a heart emoji, then a thanks, and then a message saying that Jase appreciated it too.

Hypno added some details about how well it was all going.

“Well, with her asleep we should take a break.” Warren scooted toward the door. “How about a snack and those coffees?”

“I’d feel bad taking their food.” Hypno stood. “I think I’ll hop back over to our place to grab something. You good with getting to the kitchen?”

Warren rolled his eyes. “Oh I can get to the kitchen just fine. Getting to the coffees… might be tricker.”

Hypno chuckled and opened the door. “I won’t be long.”

And he wasn’t. They hardly locked their doors in this building so it was simple to grab a couple of apples for himself and a bag of Warren’s favorite chips.

He returned to Donnie’s apartment and got the coffees out of the fridge before placing them and his husband all on the table. They ate and drank and chatted about weekend plans.

Only about thirty minutes later, when they finished up, Hypno went back to the bedroom to see the door open.

“Warren, did you not shut this?” He glanced at the worm on his shoulder.

His husband crossed his arms. “Why should I? Kid is fast asleep and she can’t get out of that tank anyway.”

Hypno’s ears went back as he went inside. “Better safe than sorry, you know?”

“Come on, Babe. The kid is right—” Warren pointed down to the blanket nest, but it was empty. “Er…”

Despite the stab of panic, Hypno didn’t let it consume him. The tank was huge. The kid could have gotten up and wandered somewhere else in it. But after searching back and forth in there—and turning over every pillow or other large object she could hide under—they found nothing. Hypno even dug into the sand at the bottom of the pool.

“Did she get out?” Warren shouted. “How?”

Hypno darted over to the door to shut it. Just in case the kid was still in here. “It doesn’t matter. Start looking. If Donnie finds out we lost his daughter we are going to get launched to the next state.”

“Donnie?” Warren raised his voice even higher. “Are you kidding? You think Donnie is the threat here?”

For a second Hypno wasn’t even sure what his husband meant.

Then he immediately recalled the short lived mess where Donnie got kidnapped by some business rivals. He recalled the look on Jason’s face when he left the building that day. And he recalled the news report less than an hour later of a massive dragon tearing a warehouse down to nothing but scrap.

Hypno put his hands on his head. “Jase is gonna have his dragon rip us to shreds.”

“Just start looking!”

Hypno did. He let his husband focus on the floor while he checked everything else. He didn’t rule out the shelves, cabinets or even the drawers. He tossed aside every piece of clothing, every box, and even tipped over the empty water pitcher just in case.

They still found nothing.

“I’m going to start looking outside.” Hypno tossed the door open and went into the hall.

On the bright side, all the other room doors were closed, including the bathroom. So that meant Holly had to have crawled into some place in the living room or the kitchen.

Hypno crawled around on the floor, looking under the sofa, the chairs, and even peeking under the rugs. Then he checked the TV stand, every shelf and behind any of the blocks of machinery. Still nothing.

Eventually Warren came out to help. Hypno hoped that his much smaller husband would have an easier time checking out the more cramped areas, but it still didn’t work. Damn it, Holly was so small. Could she have fit into the ventilation. Oh no! They’d never be able to get her out of there.

“What do we do?” The panic was definitely getting to him now. “Warren, what do we do?”

“I don’t know.” The worm snapped back, just about as good at dealing with stress as he was. “Wait. Wait! Newsflash!”

“What?”

“The shrimp.” He pointed to the fridge. “She loves that stuff. Pull some out, maybe we can lure her.”

A brilliant plan as any right now. Hypno got out the container and gave a piece of the shellfish to Warren who sneered at the smell of it. Still, he began to crawl around, waving it.

Hypno did the same, though in the kitchen this time. He was still on the floor, praying that the tiny child hadn’t found a way to climb up on the counters or something. There were knives up there!

As he moved closer to the fridge, he heard a squeak.

Hypno’s ear and then his face turned toward the noise in an instant. “Holly? Is that you, Love? Come here.” He waved the piece of shrimp closer, hoping the smell was strong enough.

Another squeak, a bit louder. Then finally the tiny turtle wiggled her way out from underneath the fridge.

Just how did she get under there? When?

Hypno snatched her up in an instant. Holly squeaked in surprise and even struggled for a second.

“Warren, I got her.”

“Oh thank goodness.” The worm shouted. “Let’s get her back.”

Hypno headed in that direction, but then realized just how much dust and grime Holly had picked up on her little adventure. “Maybe we should give her a quick wash first.”

“Fine, but make it quick.” Warren reached up. “We need it so her dads have no idea this happened by the time they get home.”

Hypno agreed. He handed Holly the shrimp—that she kept reaching for—and then put his husband on his shoulder. He carried them both to the bathroom where he plopped Holly in the sink. Donnie didn’t give them any bath instructions, but there was a tiny basket on the counter with some light soap and a soft brush.

Warren handed her the other shrimp and turned the sink on. “I hope she doesn’t splash a lot.”

Hypno chuckled. “Don’t count your rabbits.”

—----------------------------

One messy bath later and a lengthy dry off—which was mostly Warren trying to fix his soaked shirt—the pair returned Holly to the tank.

Upon which her method of escape soon became clear. As soon as they left her in there, Holly stepped away from the glass only to take a running leap at it. She tried to grab the edge, but missed it, smacking into the glass instead.

“Hm, Donnie’s going to have to make the walls higher.” Warren pointed to one of the pillows. “Kid is too smart. Prop one of those up so she doesn’t bruise herself.”

Hypno did. And it sort of worked, with Holly crashing into the plush material instead.

“How does she still have energy?” The hippo sighed. “No wonder Donnie looks so wiped out.” Even he was feeling it at this point.

Thankfully, after a few more failed jumps, Holly gave up. With a tiny yawn she fell back asleep on the blankets, and this time Hypno kept watching her to make sure she stayed there. Warren climbed onto his lap as he sat, also flopping over like he’d take a nap.

Hypno began to doze himself, but then he heard the front door open.

The hippo sat up straight, jostling his husband in the process. Warren complained, but didn’t protest as he got picked up and placed on Hypno’s shoulder.

He opened the door right when Donnie got to it.

“Hey,” the turtle didn’t look any less tired. “Everything good?”

“Yeah,” Hypno gave a nervous laugh. He waved at Jase who came up behind Donnie, then stepped aside as the guy came into the room to kneel next to the tank. “You guys might want to raise the walls a bit though. Seems she’s learning how to jump out.”

“What?” Donnie groaned. “She’s barely grown two inches since she’s hatched but she’s doing this?”

“Are you really surprised?” Jase carefully lifted his sleeping daughter out of the tank, cradling her in his hands. “Your dad did say you guys were escaping into all kinds of places as babies.”

“Yeah, but he didn’t have a custom built tank.”

“We’ll just put a few extra inches of cushioning to block her.” Jase shook his head. “Thanks for babysitting, guys.”

“Yeah, of course.” Hypno smiled and glanced at the two of them. They both looked beyond exhausted. “Anytime, actually. You guys look like you could use the break.”

“Probably,” Donnie admitted. “But we knew what we signed up for.”

“Still,” Jase added. “We could probably allow someone else to watch her for a bit by this point.”

“After I adjust the tank.”

“Of course.”

Hypno chuckled at their usual banter.

“Well, this was fun.” Warren snapped a finger. “But I’m hungry. Have you guys eaten?”

“Nah,” Jase sighed. “Came here right after work.”

“Oh, let us go get Chinese then.” Hypno slipped past Donnie. “Our treat.”

“Our treat?” Warren scoffed.

“Well, they are paying our water bill this month.”

“Fine, fair enough.” He waved a hand.

Hypno looked back at his neighbors. “Is that good with you guys?”

“Well I definitely don’t want to cook,” Jase said. “So yeah. Just get our usuals.”

Hypno gave them a thumbs up and headed out of their apartment and toward the stairs.

Warren was oddly quiet on the way down the steps. Usually he loved to ramble after such a chaotic event.

Hypno shrugged his shoulders to nudge him a bit. “Something on your mind?”

“Hm?” His husband blinked. “Well, no, maybe. Mostly tired. Just made me think um…” He kept looking up as he tapped his chin. “Did you uh… ever want to have kids?”

Hypno’s ears went up. “What brought this up?”

“We just babysat one.”

“I know but… did you want to have them?”

“Not really?” The worm cringed when he said that. “I mean, I guess I wouldn’t hate it, but it’s not something I really want to do either. But we still haven’t talked about it even though we got married years ago so…”

“Ah, I guess that makes sense.” Hypno opened the side door and stepped out onto the street. “Can’t say it’s something I really want to do either. Sides, I think helping look after that little one will be more than enough.”

Warren chuckled, a genuine smile on his face as he leaned against Hypno’s head. “Yeah, you’re telling me.”

#rottmnt #scribbly fics #hypnowarren #hope that's the right tag F #they end up baby sitting Holly often enough they become her unofficial uncles #A while back I saw a clip from an article about #how some softshell turtles will do running leaps to escape their tanks #so you have to make sure they're tall enough lmao #posting this early idc

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canyouhearthelight · 1 year

Text

The Miys, Ch. 222

Sorting out actual new followers from bots has become.... very time consuming. You can’t see me, but I am pinching my nose right now. I love giving readers shout-outs, and the nasty little buggers are making it a challenge.

(That said, please be on the lookout for a post from @ areasontobreathe, my main blog, regarding fighting back against the bots. I’ll be sharing it here, but want to make sure the interactions don’t get mixed up.)

So, after much digging, reader shout outs this week go to: @asters-veil, @wings-of-indigo, @nao-eragon, @ann-aha, @lil-dabbler, and a special shout out to @dierotenixe, who is by no means a new follower but who I appreciate very much!

Also, as always, thank you to @baelpenrose for your beta-readership and help with the day to days. Huge huge help!

“This is frustrating,” Hannah sighed, gesturing towards the image projected above the table. “When is Parvati coming back?”

“When she’s ready,” I repeated for the sixth time that shift.

“And not a moment before, I should hope,” Alistair sniffed. “And if I feel that she’s been pressured to come back earlier than that, I will send her home and box each of you upside the heads. None of you take care of yourselves.”

My eyes nearly rolled out of my head. “I’ve been this way longer than you’ve known me,” I retorted.

“But there was no need to teach it to them!” he mock-cried, gesturing at Hannah.

She tried to hide a smile behind her hand. “Not to be the bearer of bad news, but I’m fairly sure I accepted the mentorship because I care for others. I certainly didn’t just learn it on the job.” Turning back to the projected map, she groaned again, dropping her hand. “This I did, though, and it’s still eluding me.”

Stepping around my desk, I moved to sit beside her. “Let’s take a look. What’s up?”

“I’m trying to balance currently-large families with soon-to-be-large families. Some of these spaces are fine for several adults, but not once children are added to the mix. Add storage areas, workspaces, and classrooms, and it just - “ she slowly stretched her hands apart and made a whoosh noise. “It just blows up.”

“Got it,”I nodded. “You’re forgetting one key factor.”

“There’s more!?”

“Less, Hannah,” I emphasized. “Less.”

“No, I accounted for everything,” she insisted.

“Hannah.” I set my hand on hers and gently shook it. “There won’t be any children for five years. People can move quarters as needed once that starts happening.”

Alistair sat across from us and pivoted the map. “Huynh will need to confirm, but it’s likely that we can expand some spaces. Will need to, more likely.” He glanced at me, questioning.

“He and Xio have been making noises about needing to at least smooth some walls out,” I confessed. Reaching with both hands, I zoomed and adjusted until I found one of the caves they had evaluated. “Look here. The cave is stable if these scans are accurate - which we believe they are since this one doesn’t vary between any of the scans. But the surfaces are very jagged. They think they can smooth it out, make some more space, and use the debris for construction material in other areas. There’s hundreds of spaces like these. Once the engineers have eyes on, we’ll know for sure.”

Hannah stood and leaned in, squinting. “Nosy thing. How do you find all this out?”

“Conor’s lead on the project,” I murmured. “He and Maverick go on for hours about it every night, like it’s a competitive sport or something.”

She slapped my shoulder. “And you didn’t think to get any prospective maps?”

“Ow!” I laughed, rubbing the spot. “They don’t have any yet! How dare you think I didn’t ask!”

“I’m not apologizing,” she insisted primly. “You still could have told me something sooner. I’ve been struggling with this for over a week.”

“You needed distraction,” I insisted. “We’ve all been worried about Parvati, and now we know she’s fine and coming back eventually. She even told me to tell all of you for her, to get it out of the way. So… not as much distraction needed. Instead, you need to focus.”

“I hate it when you’re devious,” she muttered, calling up her datapad to make notes.

“Devious, but right.”

“That’s even worse.”

I smirked and looked back at the map. Something looked wrong. After adjusting and turning it, then confirming it was oriented correctly, I pointed to it and turned to Hannah, darting eyes between her and Alistair. “Are we certain this is oriented correctly?”

Alistair nodded. “Crust, core, To, From, all oriented correctly.”

“There is no thermal mapping?”

So slowly that I swear I could hear her neck creaking, Hannah turned to face me, wide-eyed. “Thermal… mapping?”

“Yes? Where the heat from the surface and the hydrothermal vents are? Don’t want to assign someone to live in the bath.”

When she stared at me in panic and confusion, I glanced at Alistair. No recognition at all. “You have got to be shitting me,” I groaned. “You’ve been doing this with the thermal mapping off?”

The information seemed to have finally hooked into their minds, as Hannah dropped her head and growled in frustration. “You mean I have to start over completely?”

“I doubt it?” I offered gently. I pulled up my datapad, made sure the most recent scans were being used, then started adjusting the projection. Blues, greens, oranges, and reds filled the network of caves. After a couple more adjustments, springs and aquifers were overlaid. “There.”

Peeking up at the map, Hannah steeled herself and started cross checking caverns. Only a dozen or so caverns needed to be entirely vacated, while a few needed to be adjusted so that currently-larger families were in more appropriate quarters.

“There,” she said firmly after several minutes. “That’s much easier.” Dismissing it all, she leaned back and shoved her hair out of her face. “Probably best if I put it down for the rest of the day and come back fresh tomorrow. Trying to do this while frustrated isn’t going to get me anywhere.”

“Accurate,” I agreed. “What’s next on the agenda?”

It was Alistair’s turn to check his notes. “Updating work assignments has already been assigned to Tyche. Suggested locations of public works is part of the housing assignments… somehow. I assume that makes sense to Sophia.” Scrolling and mumbling to himself, he eventually stopped the list abruptly. “Decommissioning of the quiet rooms?”

Puffing out my cheeks, I blew an overwhelmed breath. “As close to last as we can manage,” I advised. “And I would like to keep the materials, take them with us. So we should do a full inventory of each one, to start, and see what can come with and what can’t.”

“We’ll need new lights in most,” Alistair observed offhand. “Only a handful have been converted over to Miss Harper’s bio-bulbs.”

“We have them,” Hannah clarified for him. “They were placed in storage as soon as we came out of relativistic space, since we would just have to take them down and relocate them six months after installation, anyway.”

“Good to know.”

“I want Sam and Conor consulted on who should help with relocating the plants in those rooms,” I continued. “Apparently they are very delicate, and I’ve been forbidden to do anything but pet them gently.”

“Duly noted,” Hannah let me know. “And you’d rather we consult with Conor and Sam than with, say, Grey? Technically, botany falls under their purview.”

“And they will refer us to Samuel, who will consult Mister MacMaoilir,” Alistair pointed out. “Unorthodox as it seems, it’s much shorter. Councilor Hodenson’s suggestion, actually.”

“Grey got very huffy and asked if we were idiots,” I whispered loudly to Hannah. “I know you are on good terms with them, please ask them going forward rather than perpetually stealing ten minutes of my time at a go. I am sure it occurred to you.”

“Ooo, very snippy,” she giggled. “Pillows and the rest, I think Sophia and I can pack.”

“And Alice, and Maverick,” I confirmed. “Lazybones that they are.”

Alistair rapped firmly on the table. “Neither of you are fooling anyone, calling those two lazy.”

I arched an eyebrow. “Arthur is my brother, not you. You don’t have to defend my partners from me.”

“I don’t have any brothers,” Hannah snorted. “Unless you count Derek as a brother-in-law.”

“I do.” Turning back to Alistair, I pushed down my habitual need to tease him. “That’s twice today that you’ve been very defensive of the people who work in this office. What is going on?” He opened his mouth, clearly about to bluster and object, so I held my hand up and turned my face away. “Don’t deny it. First you were salty about the fact that none of us take care of ourselves in the way you wish we would, and now you are making sure we know our partners pass muster. What is going on?”

Consternation clouded his face for a moment before he stood and started tapping his jawline with one hand. “I never had a family,” he blurted out. “And when I started reporting to this office, the sheer abandon with which Sophia bandied about the term was appalling. Just… Inconsiderate, uncouth. As though family were trinkets to be collected.”

“That explains why you hated Arthur so much,” I murmured.

“No, that was simply because the man is insufferable,” Alistair corrected, deadpan. “Nonetheless, over the years… Very simply, if they weren’t so open about the fact that their shared history goes back a full lifetime, I would never know that Tyche was the only biological family Sophia had on this Ark. And I am still unconvinced that Miss Harper is not playing a prank on me to hide the fact that she is the third Reid.”

“You yourself pointed out that I’m not a good liar,” I reminded him. “So did Miys.”

“Hence why I consider the fact it could be true,” he admitted. “But now, finding myself… enveloped in this appalling but genuine bastardization of family…”

“You want to be part of it,” Hannah finished. “Not just watch.”

He sighed. “Unfortunately. It’s… tenacious. Insidious, even.”

Several deep breaths enabled me to keep from laughing at his very genuine show of vulnerability. “So, you’re saying that you like us. You really do like us.”

Another scowl, though this one included a hint of a smile, and he shook his finger at us. “I will deny it until my dying breath.”

<<Prev Masterlist Next>>

#the miys #found family #humans are weird #humans are space orcs #apocalypse #post apocalypse #post post apocalypse #aliens #humans are space fae #hfy #haw #earth is space australia #original science fiction #original fiction #original sci fi #my writing

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sparxwrites · 2 years

Text

[ao3]

It takes five days of floating in the void for the Watchers to find them.

The sum total of Boatem is drifting in a circle, holding hands, because they realised after the first five minutes that if they started drifting apart it was almost impossible to find their way back to one another. So, holding hands in a circle it was, Grian to Mumbo to Impulse to Scar to Pearl and back again. The Friendship Circle, Mumbo had called it, until Grian had started singing the thirty-seventh verse of ‘The Wheels On The Bus’, at which point he’d changed it to The Circle Of Let’s All Surrender Grian To The Void.

Thankfully, that second one hadn’t caught on. But it’d been close.

Grian’s hit the five-hundred-and-thirty-second verse when the Watchers arrive – two of them, dressed in robes almost as dark as the spaces between the void-stars. One of them wears red, so deep it’s nearly black. One of them wears purple, so deep it’s nearly black. Both of them have their hoods pulled so far down that their faces are entirely in shadow. Both of them have eyes, hundreds of them, orbiting their head in an unsteady halo.

The eyes in both halos are blinking, intermittently. They do not blink at the same time.

“XELQUA”, says one of the Watchers, the smaller of the two, wearing black-purple. “AT LAST, WE HAVE FOUND YOU.”

“–all day long!” finishes Grian, cheerily, and caps the verse with a bright, “Fuck off!” He extracts his hand from Pearl’s to summarily give both Watchers the finger.

Mumbo makes a stuttering noise of shock at the foul language. Impulse, on the other hand looks like his birthday has come early. Scar is too busy making a noise that might best be described as ‘gibbering’ to react to Grian’s sudden potty mouth.

Pearl uses her newly freed hand to join Grian in flipping the watchers off, with a sharp and vengeful sort of glee.

“YOU WILL COME WITH US,” says the second, slightly taller Watcher.

“Eat shit and die,” says Grian, promptly. “I’m not going anywhere.”

“Other than hopefully out of the void,” adds Pearl.

“Other than hopefully out of the void, yes. And currently through the void.” Grian sighs, as though he is busy and put-upon and not drifting through the void with all the time he could possibly want on his hands. “Okay, okay, I guess I’m actually going lots of ‘where’s – but only in or through the void, and definitely not with you lot. Because you suck. And you should eat shit and die.”

He holds out a hand and Pearl, dutifully, high-fives him with gusto.

Mumbo presses his hands over his ears, which, given he’s wearing a space helmet, is wildly ineffective at actually preventing him from hearing anything. It also means he lets go of Grian and Impulse’s hands. They both have to grab his ankles to prevent him from drifting away into the endless, star-filled void like a weird, mostly-human balloon.

Scar is still too busy staring at the Watchers and whimpering to contribute anything meaningful, beyond clinging to his friends’ hands hard enough they’re beginning to lose circulation. Impulse’s hand is beginning to lose feeling, his knuckles gone white. Pearl’s fingertips are beginning to turn purple.

The Watchers’ next words – regardless of Mumbo’s success at functionally preventing himself from hearing – are felt rather than heard, vibrating in the fine, tiny bones of all their ears.

YOU WILL COME WITH US, OR WE WILL TAKE YOU WITH US.

“No you won’t,” says Grian, with a supreme kind of confidence that seems unwarranted-bordering-on-arrogant in the face of two alien, godlike entities.

WE WILL, says the first Watcher, though it sounds less self-assured than it did before.

“No, you won’t,” repeats Grian. “I’ll bite you.”

He also has a helmet on, and is therefore incapable of biting anyone without removing it and suffocating to death in short order, but that doesn’t stop the Watchers from exchanging a look. It seems like a worried look. Insofar as a hundred-odd glowing eyes apiece orbiting the black void of a hooded robe can look worried, anyway.

IT’S TRUE, says the second Watcher. HE DOES BITE.

REALLY? asks the first.

OH YES, says the second. HE HAS VERY SHARP TEETH. SISTER XESTRI STILL BEARS THE SCARS.

Pearl, in a moment of brilliant inspiration, says, “I have sharp teeth, too,” and bares them in an immensely threatening smile. Impulse very nearly lets go of her hand on reflex.

BROTHER, says the first Watcher, anxiously. IT WOULD SEEM THAT THEY ALL HAVE SHARP TEETH.

The two Watchers exchange another, significantly more worried look.

…WE SHALL RETURN, XELQUA, says the second Watcher, with as much dignity as it can muster given the circumstances. WE SHALL FIND YOU IN YOUR NEXT WORLD. AND THIS TIME, WE SHALL COME PREPARED.

WITH… SHARPER TEETH, says the first, rallying valiantly alongside its comrade.

“No, you won’t,” says Grian. “Because you’re fucking herbivores.”

“Language,” Mumbo whimpers, his hands still over the sides of his helmet.

“Idiots,” says Pearl, dismissively. “Herbivores! All herbivores are idiots. Well known fact.”

The two Watchers, very wisely, take that as their cue to do what could generously be described as a tactical retreat. It would probably be more accurate to describe it as running the fuck away. Pearl jeers at them as they flee, with a surprising amount of aggression. Grian chucks a bit of moon rock after them. Scar, gradually, stops making cornered-animal noises of alarm.

Mumbo does not remove his hands from the sides of his helmet, on what seems to be the principle of the thing.

“…Are they herbivores?” asks Impulse, with mild interest, when the Watchers are little more than distant, dark specks amongst the many, many stars. “They looked pretty predatory to me.”

“I don’t know!” Grian shrugs. “Never really saw them eat.”

“Huh.”

“Why were you talking to them like that?” asks Scar, in the strained voice of a man who has just seen his life flash before his eyes. Mumbo nods, vigorously. “You swore at them!”

Grian shrugs. “I don’t think they’re used to people doing anything other than grovelling, to be honest,” he says, casually. “If you don’t, they default to threatening you, and then blowing your stuff up, and then blowing you up. But I don’t have anything to blow up right now, and they can’t kill me without risking me dying permanently, so.” He grins, brightly. “Easiest just to insult them until they get confused and leave. Or bite them. They’re weirdly scared of the biting thing.”

“Easiest,” says Scar, faintly. “Insult the nine foot tall, glowing purple eyes god-creatures. Easy. Or bite them. Right.”

“Or blow them up, first,” adds Pearl.

“They explode?” Grian sounds just a little bit too enthusiastically curious.

“Oh yeah. Taurtis built a TNT canon after you left.” Pearl makes a gesture with her free hand that approximates to kaboom, followed by gratuitous spattering motions. “Chunks everywhere. Didn’t keep them gone for long, admittedly, but it was great.”

“…Huh.”

Silence settles over their little group, as they watch the Watchers disappear from sight entirely. They’re all still holding hands. The void is still cold and star-bright around them. There is still no end in sight.

At length, Mumbo – having reclaimed his place holding hands in the circle, rather than being tethered by his ankles – says, “We should have asked them for the way out.”

“Oh no,” whines Scar. “We could have asked them for the way out.”

“I wouldn’t recommend it,” says Grian, sounding terribly bored. “They’re terrible at directions. Anyway! Where were we? Oh, yeah. The wheels on the bus go round and round–”

#grian #the watchers #boatem #hermitcraft #hermitblr #hermitcraft spoilers //#pearlescentmoon #mumbojumbo #goodtimeswithscar #impulsesv #hermits crafting #hermitfic #fic #just an extremely silly little thing that came to me in a moment of brilliant inspiration after several glasses of wine #partially because i wanted to get in on the 'boatem in the void' fun #and partially bc i have an agenda and that agenda is 'grian being belligerent and A Problem On Purpose' and also 'watcher villain decay'#i love this horrible little bird man who has never once in his whole life been respectful or serious #and is not about to start now just bc his life is in danger from multiple angles #also my apologies to scar for making him so pathetic but. in my defence. he is often fairly pathetic when threatened #and also it's very very funny. and also i love pathetic men theyre my favourite. so.#scar: i am a big scary powerful business con-man haha look at my charisma stat. also scar: oh my god a creeper i must yelp and hide :(((

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invisibleanonymousmonsters · 3 years

Text

Childhood

Father of Mine – Part 1 and Part 2

+ This Game of Ours

Jason’s eyes snapped open at a sound that no human should be able to hear.

Ever since he’d been resurrected from the Lazarus pit, his senses had grown abnormally acute – amongst other strange things.

Sometimes he swore he could even hear Y/N’s heartbeat. It was easiest to do with her, after all he was so intone with her very being.

But all of that made nearly impossible for anyone to sneak up on him – let alone in his own home. Which someone was. He could feel it.

Jason’s eyes glanced down at Y/N, who was sound asleep on his chest.

Ever so carefully, he lifted her body off of him so he could slip out of bed.

But Y/N was a light sleeper, unfortunately. She must’ve inherited that from Bruce, even though she wasn’t even raised by the man.

Y/N winced as her eyes opened just in time to see Jason grabbing one of his hidden guns from below their bed frame.

“What’s going on?” Her voice raspy.

“Nothing,” Jason lied. “Stay here.”

Now that she found out about another hidden gun in their apartment, Jason knew he was going to return to a lecture from Y/N. She never hid her hatred for guns, and had asked him to keep them out of their apartment.

“Jason…” Y/N whispered desperately, now more awake and concerned.

“Stay here,” Jason said, more firmly this time.

Then he quickly kissed her, leaving even less room for her to argue.

In only his black boxer briefs, Jason snuck out of their bedroom and into the living room without making any sound. Y/N had always been shocked at how quiet her giant boyfriend could make himself.

Just as Jason raised his gun, he heard the familiar voice.

“Put some clothes on, Todd.”

Damian stepped out of the shadows.

To Jason’s surprise, he was in civilian clothes and not in his Robin uniform.

“What the fuck do you think you’re doing, breaking in like that?” Jason reprimanded as he uncocked the gun.

But before Damian could defend himself, the bedroom door squeaked open and Y/N was rushing out into the living room.

“I told you to stay there,” Jason growled.

Y/N rolled her eyes at her boyfriend’s overprotectiveness. “Obviously I recognized Damian’s voice, Jason.”

Then Y/N looked at her half-brother for a second and quickly realized Damian had come there for a reason.

“Everything alright, Damian?” She asked carefully.

“Yes,” he lied.

Jason remembered when Damian despised Y/N. He saw her as a threat to his claim to the Wayne throne. But Y/N had immediately made her intentions clear. “I have my own reputation, money, and career that I built without a name attached to me. I want nothing to do with Wayne Enterprises,” she had told Damian as soon as she realized he saw her as some sort of competition.

It took Damian months to even acknowledge Y/N. And he really only did because both his father and Dick – basically his surrogate father – scolded him for not doing so.

Slowly but surely, the two grew closer.

Y/N didn’t put up with Damian’s attitude. But she also didn’t scold him like a child. If he was rude or aggressive, she spoke to him the same way she would speak to a grown man who behaved in such a manner. Somehow it made the boy slowly start to respect her more.

Eventually, they bonded over their mutual love of the arts. Damian was impressed with her photographs, while Y/N was honored whenever Damian decided to share his drawings with her. Y/N had gifted Damian his first camera. And Damian once gave her a few lessons on the basics of sketching and painting.

Who knew Waynes were the creative type?

And it was when Damian’s pets all seemed to be obsessed with Y/N that the boy finally decided to get over his original opinions and feelings.

It was by no means a short or easy battle. But the rest of the family was relieved when Damian finally accepted Y/N as one of their own.

“How about I make us some hot chocolate?” Y/N offered Damian.

The boy just shrugged, but she noticed his eyes subtly light up.

She never understood why he refused to let himself feel joy in the simple things. It was like she could catch him stopping himself from being a kid.

“I’m going to bed,” Jason announced with exhaustion.

It was clear to him that Damian came to see his sister, not him. And he was nice enough to leave the two of them alone. Even though he was a bit bitter that his girlfriend was being stolen from their bed.

Before turning back to the bedroom, Jason invaded Y/N’s space and gently grabbed her jaw before pressing a kiss to her lips.

“Gross,” Damian groaned.

Jason glared and pointed at the boy. “You’re in our apartment, demon spawn. I’ll kiss my girlfriend if I fuckin’ want to.”

Y/N just laughed as she watched Jason close their bedroom door behind him.

“Come on,” she nudged her head in the direction of the kitchen. “Let’s make some hot chocolate. I think I have some of Alfred’s cookies hiding somewhere, too.”

“I don’t know what you see in him,” Damian mumbled.

Y/N smirked and shook her head. Tonight, she wasn’t taking the bait.

Once Damian decided he didn’t hate Y/N, he jumped right to making it known that he did not think Jason was good enough for her. But she knew it was an act – mostly.

“Why aren’t you on patrol?” She asked casually once they had giant mugs of hot chocolate and cookies in front of them, making sure to give the boy extra marshmallows.

“I’m grounded,” Damian muttered.

Y/N tilted her head. “Grounded?”

It seemed like a far too normal concept for a family of vigilantes.

“Yes,” Damian confirmed.

“I’m guessing that means Bruce and Alfred don’t know you’re here…?”

“I snuck out,” he admitted.

“Why did you get grounded?”

“Father found out I was skipping school. And then that I skipped the school dance.”

“Why does it matter if you skipped the dance?” She asked, clearly confused.

Y/N was also struggling to imagine Bruce caring about such a trivial thing like that.

“Father wishes for me to have normal experiences that young man of my age is expected to have,” Damian said with a roll of his eyes.

“School dances are lame,” Y/N commented.

Damian sat up straighter, not expecting that to be her response.

“I skipped prom. I didn’t want to go,” she added.

“Why not?” The boy challenge, somewhat caught off guard by that.

Y/N shrugged. “Bad music. Bad dancing. Tacky dresses. Just wasn’t all that appealing to angsty, teenage me.”

Damian just nodded slowly, and then got quiet.

“I have no desire to be normal,” he finally stated after a few minutes.

“I’m not taking his side, but I get why Bruce wants you to do these things, Damian. You were robbed of a lot of things because of the way you were raised. I’m not saying that it’s bad or good. But I think Bruce just wants to give you the opportunity to experience the life of a – well...of a kid.”

“And was your life normal?” Damian quickly asked.

Y/N nodded. “So normal that it was boring.” She laughed, “My entire life was normal until I met all of you weirdos.”

That got a smile out of Damian.

But then it slowly dropped and he seemed to get lost in his head.

“I don’t…I don’t have any friends,” Damian finally whimpered.

Y/N was shocked by the boy’s emotion.

Damian was always composed.

“It’s like they speak a different language. And it’s one I can never learn.”

“Oh, Damian,” Y/N sighed as she rushed from her seat to kneel beside him. “I know it must be hard to try and fit in. But you’re not doing anything wrong. None of that’s your fault.”

“Father is more than aware that I don’t need the education,” Damian’s voice shook as he tried not to cry. “He only forces me to attend so I can make friends. And that is one thing I am unable to do.”

Y/N let him breathe and have an opportunity to continue before she spoke again.

“I hate school, so I skip. And the school dance seemed so ridiculous to me, so I skipped that too – even after father specifically requested that I attend.”

Y/N sighed, “And did you tell him how you’re feeling when he grounded you?”

Damian shook his head no.

She hadn’t expected anything different. She could easily imagine Damian lashing out at Bruce when he received his punishment, saying that the requests were a waste of his time and beneath him.

Damian was good at hiding his emotional pain – maybe even better than their father.

Y/N was sure Bruce didn’t have a true understanding of what Damian was going through.

“Can I stay here tonight?” Damian asked.

“Of course,” she gave him a sad smile. “How about we take this hot chocolate to the couch and watch a movie?”

Damian shrugged. But it wasn’t a no.

Y/N let him pick the movie.

He chose Fantasia.

When Y/N didn’t hide her surprise, he explained that he respected the animation and loved all of the classical music. Even when they did a child-like activity, he still always found way to remind the world that he was no normal child.

An hour later, both of them had fallen asleep on the couch with the movie still playing.

When Damian felt another presence, he awoke with a jolt and grabbed his hidden knife, holding it to the throat of the intruder.

But it was Jason, gently bringing Y/N’s sleeping body into his arms.

“Once again, demon spawn, you’re in our apartment,” Jason hissed with annoyance.

The man was completely unfazed by the feeling of a blade threatening to slit his throat.

Damian huffed.

“I’m taking her to bed,” Jason explained the obvious. Then he nudged his head at the love-seat across from Damian. “There’s a blanket right there if you want to sleep on the couch. Or you can sleep in the guest bedroom.”

But Jason paused, with Y/N sleeping in his arms, as he noticed a strange look on Damian’s face.

“What?” He urged.

“If you ever hurt her, I’ll kill you myself,” Damian growled softly.

Jason looked utterly unimpressed. “You’d have to get in line,” he answered, making sure to keep his voice quiet to prevent waking Y/N.

But then Jason’s face softened. “Look, kid, I think you know that she’s the best thing to ever happen to me. I’d die before doing anything to mess this up.”

“Hmph,” was the only noise Damian made in response.

Jason rolled his eyes and carried Y/N back to their bedroom.

In all honesty, he couldn’t fall asleep while she had been in with Damian. With Jason’s weird enhanced hearing because of the pit, he was able to catch a bit of their conversation.

Jason softly place Y/N back in bed and pulled the covers up to her shoulders. When he joined her on the other side of the bed, she didn’t even wake as she slid back into his arms.

Now Jason could finally go to sleep.

When there was a knock on the apartment door the next morning, Damian and Y/N shared a look.

“I’ll get it,” Y/N sighed.

Jason had made all three of them breakfast that morning.

But now Damian pushed the food around his plate, knowing this was the end of his small rebellion. Who knew what his new punishment would be?

Y/N opened the door to unsurprisingly find her father.

Bruce was wearing a full suit, despite it being a Sunday morning. On top was a heavy, black overcoat with the back of the collar slightly propped up.

“You could have least told me he was here,” Bruce greeted his daughter.

She smirked mischievously and shrugged. “I’m no snitch.”

Damian appeared behind Y/N, not seeing the point in dragging this out any longer than necessary.

“Alfred’s downstairs with the car,” Bruce told his son evenly.

The disappointment in both his expression and tone was obvious.

Damian looked up at Y/N. “Thank you for having me, Y/N.”

“Next time, use the actual door so you don’t give me or Jason a heart attack.”

Damian smiled at that before walking past his father and down the hallway.

“Can I talk to you a second?” Y/N asked Bruce.

Her father seemed surprised by the request, but nodded anyways and closed the door behind him.

“I think Damian is really struggling – more than you think, I mean.”

Bruce’s brow furrowed and he crossed his arms. “He hasn’t even been remotely injured from patrols in months…”

“No, Bruce,” she quickly cut off. “Not as Robin. As Damian.”

Bruce was quiet.

“He doesn’t know how to fit in, Bruce. And you’re putting a lot of pressure on him to live a normal life. Bu he’s never gonna have normal. That was taken away from him before you even knew he existed.”

“He said that to you?” Bruce asked.

She nodded. “In so few words, yes.”

“And I’m assuming you have some advice,” he quirked a brow.

“Well, yeah. Maybe you should just homeschool him.”

“Y/N, the whole point of him going to school is to be around kids his own age. We both know the education is beneath him already.”

“But that’s the thing, Bruce. He’s never going to relate to any of those kids. Going to school makes him feel like a freak. Let him get homeschooled.”

“He needs to learn to make friends,” Bruce argued.

“You’re right. He does. But not with the spoiled brats of Gotham Academy. How many superheroes are you friends with?”

“He doesn’t consider them friends!” Jason shouted from the kitchen.

Y/N rolled her eyes. “Fine. How many superheroes are you acquainted with, who have kids around Damian’s age?”

Bruce’s jaw tightened.

“I know you like to keep your personal life away from Batman. But those are the only kids that Damian is ever going to relate to in some way. Do you get what I’m saying?”

To her surprise, Bruce nodded. “You’re right.”

Her brows shot up. “I am?”

Y/N had really expected him to fight her on this.

Bruce chuckled. “Of course you are. Out of everyone in this family, you are the only one who can say they had any semblance of a normal childhood.”

Suddenly his phone dinged and he glanced down at it.

“I have to go,” he regretfully told her.

When he looked back up at her, his face softened. “Come to the manor soon for dinner,” he asked her gently.

She gave him a soft smile and nodded, “I will.”

Bruce nodded in the direction of the kitchen where Jason was hiding. “And bring that one with you, will you?”

Y/N laughed. “He’ll go wherever I go. He’s like a puppy, that one.”

“I can hear you!” Jason called out.

Bruce laughed and stepped forward to give Y/N a kiss on the cheek. “Thank you for looking out for Damian, Y/N.”

“You don’t have to thank me, Bruce.”

––––––––––––––––––––

#jason todd x reader #jason todd reader insert #red hood x reader #red hood reader insert #father of mine bonus content #Father of Mine #bruce wayne x daughter #bruce wayne x daughter!reader #damian wayne x sister!reader #batboys #batfam #batman family #batsis #batfam x batsis

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tired-beholding-bitch · 2 years

Note

I'm in a yearning mood today so maybe......... 30. grabbing onto their arm from touches and 4. lips barely touching from kisses?

thank you so much for the request anon! indeed, yearning is Much Appreciated in this household

(also, as a side note: feel free to request specific pairings/people if you'd like to see something in particular! was kind of going with jonmartin as default even before anon sent another ask to clarify but. yes, if you have a preference just add it I’d be glad to write almost anything really 💙)

here you go, I hope you’ll enjoy it! 🌺

It’s too early in the morning to be awake. Martin is sitting at the kitchen table nonetheless, shivering a little in the chilly air of the room.

The darkened windows aren’t letting in any light yet, showing him only his own reflection, staring back at him from the eerie quiet of the Scottish countryside. On the stove, he can hear the water for the tea start to simmer.

They do have a kettle, old-fashioned and clearly one Daisy salvaged from a thrift store somehow, but Jon is still sleeping, for once. It’s too early to risk waking him up, on a rare occasion in which he’s actually resting.

While he waits for it to reach a full boil, the cup with its teabag already sitting in front of him, he picks absent-mindendly at a hangnail right on his thumb. He does it over and over again, until he can feel it sting in protest, pulling a bit. When he looks down, brows furrowing, it’s bleeding – it stains the skin around it red, a drop of blood rolling down his finger, and when he brings it to his mouth, the coppery, unpleasant taste of it on his tongue makes him grimace.

The water bubbles. He gets up to pour it in his mug, only narrowly managing not to burn himself as it splashes from the sides. He sits down again. He forgot the sugar, but the thought of getting up to rummage through the cabinets to find it is unappealing, so he doesn’t.

His breathing hasn’t gone back to normal yet.

Surpisingly, given the pattern of his dreams these days, the nightmare wasn’t about the Lonely.

In a way, it would have been easier – he has developed all kinds of tricks and reassurances to deal with the white, heavy fog that still curls around his ankles on occasion, to fight off the alluring silence of a place shrouded in mist. The comfort of not seeing past the wall of grey, silhouettes blurred and so far away they could never hurt him.

It would have been better if it was about the worms, even, despite how daft he feels every time he wakes up gasping from the echoing of Prentiss’ knocking, after so much worse has happened to all of them, really, in the years between then and now.

Instead, the dream was about his mum.

It wasn’t even a nightmare, not in the actual meaning of the word – more like a memory, something he had quite forgotten, dredged up by his subconscious for some reason or another.

He doesn’t remember exactly what it was about. He doesn’t have to, for the image of his mother’s face – that expression he never quite wanted to give a name to, because if he had it would have to be something less than annoyance and closer to disgust or contempt or loathing – to linger clear as day behind his eyelids every time he blinks.

Martin stares down into his tea, and tries to slow the rhythm of his breaths to something manageable.

He’s so focused on it – on trying to not fall apart at 4 am in the morning sitting in a still unfamiliar kitchen, tea slowly growing cold and too bitter to drink in his hands – that he almost jumps out of his skin when he feels something touching his arm.

Jon makes a startled noise of surprise in return, reeling back immediately to give him space.

He looks… rumpled, really, is probably the best word for it. He’s squinting something fierce – he must have abandoned his glasses who-knows-where –, and Martin can tell he’s biting back a yawn by the way he scrunches up his nose, forehead creasing in concentration. The shirt he’s wearing is way too big on him, slipping down his shoulder to reveal a very endearing clavicle.

It makes his heart constrict almost painfully with tenderness, a sweet, lingering ache blossoming at the base of his throat.

Once he meets his eyes, Jon tries again, tentatively settling his hand on Martin’s arm. He squeezes once, twice, in a casual display of affection that helps none with the lump of feelings knotted at the centre of his chest. He doesn’t let go even as he drags the other chair next to his, sitting down so close to him he’s almost leaning his whole body against him.

The weight of his fingers on his forearm, the thin skin of his wrist warm against Martin’s own. The gentle, firm grip that keeps him anchored, somehow, much better than the tea had managed to do.

Jon doesn’t say anything. He doesn’t ask – he never asks, and sometimes Martin tells him anyway. He doesn’t, this time, but he knows it’s alright all the same.

They sit in silence for what feels like a long time.

He eventually lets go of the cup, and Jon starts rubbing soothing circles on his inner forearm, almost distractedly, and smiles against his shoulder when Martin’s breath eases as he follows the motion.

There is something to be said about how momentous it can feel, to be touched so casually.

Even more so when Jon looks up at him, after an undefinable amount of time has passed them by, his eyes coffee-dark and tired but full of something so warm that almost makes him want to cry, and tilts his head just so that their lips barely brush in a kiss.

It doesn’t linger, stays feather-light and familiar, and his mouth tingles with it.

He smiles without realising, and Jon smiles back, and this time he doesn’t bother hiding the yawn that takes him after, his free hand barely managing to cover his mouth.

«Let’s go back to bed?» he asks, his tone just a little teasing.

He’s still smiling, as Jon tugs him to his feet with scarcely concealed impatience, mumbling something under his breath that could be yes please before the birds start just as well as unintellegible gibberish.

They sleep until the afternoon, and Martin doesn’t dream again.

#tired answers #fun fact this is exactly 1k #are we surprised it's safehouse fluff #it just SCREAMED tentative first mornings alright #someday i will write something else. maybe. probably.#also you got bonus sad hours martin because it. kind of happened.#heads up for a very brief non-descriptive mention of his mother being shitty just in case #also anon i would like to personally thank you i actually did a lil dance when i got the ask it's the first time!!! i get a request!!!#so exciting to be a blog that gets requests #like yes ik i specifically asked for it but still ✨✨✨#tma #tired writes #ask game: touches #jonmartin #teaholding

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dollslayer · 3 years

Text

Fight or Flight

Steve Rogers x Reader

Summary: Steve comes clean, in the aftermath and shock you turn to the one person who you know you can trust.

W/C: 2,369

Warnings: Implied cheating, angst, swearing

A/N: Hello! I wrote this for @sweetlyscared 's 1k celebration (congrats, it's well deserved!), prompt is in bold. I'm still pretty new to writing and this is my first true Angst fic so any and all reblogs/comments are super appreciated! Please check out my other stuff if you liked this fic!! Cheers!

PART TWO I Masterlist

____

The feeling of everything crashing around you was slow. Like your world was moving in slow motion as you processed the words. Everything else he was saying became distorted, going to waste as he tried desperately to explain himself to you. All you could hear clearly was your own breathing while you tried to will yourself to do something, anything.

Fight or flight is a funny thing, you were always so feisty and eager to fight back, A Bulldog, Steve had affectionately called you. But when he told you he was in love with someone else, that he has been in love with someone else for months, your body couldn’t find anything in it but to walk away.

Your breathing picked up and your eyes searched the ground, refusing to meet his. You felt your legs raise you up to stand and start walking away, unsure of your destination. When you pivoted to leave the room your eyes met his briefly, staring emotionlessly as his desperately searched for anything at all in yours.

“Where are you going? Doll, please, can we talk about this? I’m, I’m so sorry I-”

Whatever else he was saying wasn’t heard over the noise of opening the door and shutting it behind you. You didn’t know where you were going or what you were feeling other than the obvious. You were in a state of shock, it’s one thing to hear awful news and another to understand that it’s true but you were fastly approaching that truth head-on.

You paused for a moment in the hall and heard no movement come after you. You almost let yourself be surprised but he’d admitted he gave up on you a long time ago, so it only makes sense he wouldn’t fight your exit. You kept walking and tried to hold the floodgates of your heart closed for a bit longer.

Flashes of what was said come back to you slowly as reality sets in. “I can’t put this off any longer. I want you to know that I will always love you, but there’s someone else.”

Your head hurt like it would as if you were already crying, the blood pumping in your ears and pressure building in your temples that would no doubt evoke a long-standing headache. Your face felt hot as you stepped into the elevator, maybe you’d go for a walk in an attempt to fend off your tears. Or maybe you’d walk to a safer place to have an emotional breakdown. Whichever is easier.

Brisk gusts of air greet you as you exit the building, making you realize you left your jacket on the arm of the couch. You took a second to evaluate yourself and noticed you’d also walked out in your house slippers and a thin pair of leggings. Trying to evade the cold you tucked yourself in the doorway of a bodega down the street and dialed Bucky.

Two rings and he picked up.

“Hello?”

“Did you know?”

The silence on the line only reminds you of the blood pumping in your ears. The silence tells you everything you needed to know.

“Liste-”

You hang up.

You’re breathing even harder now. Who else knew? For how long? How long was I the joke? You need to find somewhere else to be soon or all these strangers are going to get an eyeful of a grown woman sobbing. You dial the last number you’d expect to at a time like this.

“What’s happening, shortstack?”

You can hear Tony’s grin through the phone and his easy greeting gives you momentary comfort.

“Can I come over? Something happened.”

“I’ll let Jarvis know to let you in” Tony’s tone is understanding, not needing you to explain further, just letting you know you can come to him.

____

Tony’s only seven blocks from yours and Steve’s shared apartment, a fact you’re grateful for when you feel your feet aching every time they hit the pavement. The conversation replays in your head, you try to word what happened in your head and your anger starts overtaking the heartbreak. It’s almost a welcome reprieve from the settling heartbreak but you’re not sure if you’d rather be numb to it completely.

When the elevator doors open Tony’s waiting for you with two tumblers of scotch in hand. You shake your head and move past him to the couch. He joins you on the opposite armchair and sets both his elbows down on his spread knees, resting his face in his hands.

“Would you like to talk about it or not talk about it?” He asks with a sigh.

You don’t make eye contact with him so you don’t cry, choosing to focus on the Iron Man coffee table book you’d gotten as a gag gift for Tony all those Christmases ago. It almost distracts you enough to laugh, the fact that he just has it out. But you need to tell someone what happened and get it all out before you can let yourself feel it all.

“Steveisinlovewithsomeoneelse,” You rushed it all out in one breath afraid if you didn’t get it out fast enough that you’d break. “He has been for months. He said he doesn’t know when it all changed but when he was with her things just clicked,” you paused to collect yourself, “But don’t worry, I’ll always hold a special place in his heart and he hopes this won’t affect the future of the team or our friendship.”

“Oh, and he’s really sorry.” you added.

You laughed bitterly and shook your head in disbelief. His delivery had been so cold but so sincere, very to the point but pained in its delivery. “I just, whatever we had, it’s just gone. Things are just different now, with her, this kills me though, please believe me. You’re still really special to me.” Bullshit. Special enough to act as a placeholder until someone better comes, special enough to cast aside.

You’re broken momentarily from your spiral into anger by the sound of a glass hitting a coaster a little too hard. Looking up, you find Tony quietly seething. He and Steve aren’t close by any means so you figured that he wouldn’t have known, it’s why you called him over anyone else.

He moves slowly to your side on the couch and pulls you into his side. You can smell his aftershave and what you think might be burned grease from one of the many things he’s been tinkering with in the lab, it smells like him, like comfort.

“That fucking asshole. Unbelievable, I don’t even…” He leaves the thought unfinished.

His hands move up and down your arms in a soothing motion and you finally let yourself have it. You don’t even realize you’re crying until you feel the tears wet his shirt when you bury your face in. You sniffle up tears and snot when your face heats up.

There’s no way to know how long Tony lets you sob into him, no doubt ruining his vintage Depeche Mode shirt. Somewhere in the back of your mind you make a mental note to buy him a new one later. But for now you’ll just allow yourself to cry and you can deal with the world in the morning.

____

Tony lets you fall asleep on his chest, feeling somewhere between furious and heartbroken by proxy. He thinks about letting you sleep and giving Steve a piece of his mind but figures that’s not what you need right now. Your phone sits on the table and he touches the screen to check the time. No notifications on your homescreen except for a missed call from Bucky and an old photo of Steve making a funny face as your background.

Had Steve not even tried to call you? Had he not even tried to go after you? Why was Bucky of all people the only one to be trying to get a hold of you? Prick.

Selfishly Tony is glad that he has a good reason to be rude to Steve now, he has to admit. You two had always been close but when you and Steve started dating he saw less and less of you. He couldn’t fault you for it though, you were so in love with Steve and you knew that the relationship between the two of them was strained so you kept your distance a bit.

He thought of all the sacrifices you’d made for Steve. You gave up your childhood home in the Bronx that your parents had willed to you to move in with him because he wanted you to be closer to the tower. You gave up a promotion and transfer to DC when you were still just an agent, granted you were an avenger now but it doesn’t matter, he’d made a very big deal out of you turning it down. You gave up the friendship the two of you had.

It was incredible, really. How much you had done for him only for him to turn around and love someone else behind your back. Brave enough to fight aliens and terrorists but too cowardly to break up with you and leave you with some dignity. Did anyone else know about this?

Tony had to stop himself from getting too angry, afraid he’d wake you up. So instead he went back to plotting up schematics for the half-finished suit mod he’d been in the middle of when you called.

____

It’s been a week and you still haven’t properly talked to Steve. After two days on Tony’s couch you need to look at things from a logical stance. Where am I going to stay? It’s not like you had your parent’s place anymore and you didn’t want to sign a new lease on an apartment. You could always move into the tower but that meant a higher chance of running into Steve.

You were thinking about all of this out loud to Tony when he offered you the guest bedroom in his penthouse. You were shocked, he’s always been a generous man but after you drifted apart from him you were surprised he even let you stay these past few days. Maybe now was a good time to rebuild your friendship with him and have some space from work.

What’s work going to be like? You agree and go on a temporary leave from the team, just a month to collect yourself. If you really wanted to you could go back but the thought of seeing everyone that knew about Steve’s affair was humiliating and enraging in one go.

It turns out Sam had been playing therapist to Steve in all of this, Nat figured it out through some sleuthing, and Wanda had inadvertently heard his thoughts about her. And none of them thought to tell you? To save you from the anguish but to let it fester? Steve wasn’t the only one that betrayed you. They all had.

What will I say to him? Should I say anything to him? Turns out the answer was ‘nothing’. You texted him to let him know you were moving out and you’d be by to get your things as a courtesy. You walked into an empty apartment and you were almost relieved.

He’d chosen to not be here but he’d left you a letter on the kitchen counter next to a framed photo of the two of you on vacation last year. You scoff but don’t touch the letter. Every ounce of restraint you have is being used as you leave it untouched. But you don’t need to know what excuses or apologies he has on deck, nothing he could say would exonerate him of his wrong-doings. You had no intentions of speaking to him but secretly you hoped he suffered as he stewed in his guilt and inner-turmoil. He deserves to.

When you pack you leave every gift he ever gave you, taking only what you’d brought with you in the first place. You take one look at the unmade bed and almost go to make it out of habit but then you think of the two of them there together. All the long missions you went on without him, all the times you stayed late at work or went out with your friends. How many times had he been here with her while you were there?

You end up only leaving with two suitcases and a backpack full of things. Tony waits for you in the lobby, understanding you wanted your space when you went to get your things in case Steve was there.

The elevator doors open to him taking a selfie with a couple of fans and shaking hands. He’s all too happy to be recognized but when he sees you his eyes soften. Not out of pity, but fondness, like he’s proud of you for getting out.

He sends you a questioning look with a silent question. Are you okay?

You smile at him and for the first time in days it’s a genuine, non-placating, happy-to-see-you smile. It’s okay, I’ll be okay.

He takes one of your suitcases from you and helps you load them into the back of the car before opening the door for you. The drive back to Tony’s is silent but comfortable. The trust you have in each other is strong and unspoken. Something you’ve always been grateful for between the two of you.

He doesn’t ask you about Steve or what happened, always letting you come to him first, which you appreciate. And when you talk he just listens. No bullshit unsolicited advice about moving on or how everything happens for a reason or getting back out there, just listens.

You know the road ahead is long and it will be difficult, but you have someone in your corner and the knowledge that what happened isn’t your fault and that you’re a badass and fuck Steve Rogers and fuck anyone else that did you wrong in all of this. Maybe you’ll forgive them someday but for now you’re gonna focus on you and work on building yourself back up. You’re ready for the ups and downs, you’re ready to fight.

#sweetlysad1kchallenge #steve rogers x reader #tony stark & reader #steve rogers angst #angst #implied cheating #marvel fic #marvel au #marvel x reader

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apocalypticgargoyle · 3 years

Note

Dream smut or fluff where reader and him are high key mean to eachotjer despite having so many mutual friends, but then something (very vague i know I’m sorry) makes them have to get close and the develop feelings? Sorry I’m shit at requests but thank you!!!

i know this is shitty im sorry akjsdh bls forgive me

𝐄𝐋𝐄𝐕𝐀𝐓𝐎𝐑. ♘ 𝐝𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐦 𝐱 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫

± warnings: dream being a dick, slight slut shaming, toxic behavior, vulgar/suggestive mentions and language, sexual harassment on a bus (not by dream, you can breathe)

⋆ song recommendation: When the Night is Over by Lord Huron

You pulled a blanket beneath your chin, yawning slightly at whatever the tv was playing. You only had it on in an attempt to drown out the noises coming from your roommate's bedroom as she smoozed her date. You were honestly shocked the two hadn’t moved in together yet with all the time they spent wrapped up.

Her door opened, her eyes widening slightly at the sight of you sprawled out on the couch. He marched toward you quietly, hovering over your shoulder. You peered up at her hesitantly. “What are you watching?” She asked, voice barely above a whisper. You furrowed your brows, opening your mouth to speak but she hurriedly cut you off. “Do you mind watching it at Nick’s instead?”

You raised your eyebrows. “You’re kicking me out again?” She gave you an apologetic smile, making you roll your eyes as you stood up and pulled on your jacket. “This would hurt less if they also paid rent,” you mumbled, with a small glare.

She thanked you repeatedly, holding onto your arm as you gathered what little belongings you needed for the night. “I promise I’ll make it up to you,” she courted, opening the door for you. “Tomorrow, dinner’s on me okay?” You sent her a tired look and she apologized again. She stopped you as you stepped out into the cold night, leaning through the space between the door and the frame. “Maybe you can cozy up to that Clay guy? You guys have such a good vibe,” she mocked, making you chuckle lightly.

You shook your head, waving to her. “Enjoy your night. Please, for the love of God, clean the bathroom afterward,” you called, hearing her laugh at your statement.

The bus ride was quiet due to the time of night and the weather, both of which you didn’t mind. You knew Nick’s house would be warm and loud. Before you knew it, you found yourself in front of his apartment door, kicking at the concrete ground as you heard someone stumbling to let you inside. The door opened swiftly, Clay’s large frame blocking the light from the kitchen. He leaned against the doorframe mockingly as he looked at you.

He wet his lips. “Who’s the lucky guy tonight?” He joshed.

You rolled your eyes, brushing past his body to get out of the cold. “Whoever’s dick you’re not sucking, I guess,” you quipped back, making him laugh darkly. You kicked off your shoes as he shut the door. “Where’s Sapnap?” You asked, shrugging off your jacket. You’d texted him ahead of time to ask if you could stay over, which he readily agreed to.

Clay sent you a smug look. “You guys have a fun night planned?” He made a gesture with his hand to insinuate you were there to give Nick a handjob.

You bit back a chuckle. “Why? You wanna join?” You shot back. He bit his lip and moaned pornographically.

“Cut it out, Dream,” Nick grumbled as he walked into the room. He pulled on your arm to follow him.

Dream scoffed exasperatedly. “Me? I’m not the one who started it!” He called after the two of you.

As Nick pushed you out of the room, you turned your head. “You most certainly did!” You answered. You heard him chuckle at your words as Nick shut the door to his room. You plopped down on his bed as he sat in his chair, swiveling to look at you. “Why does Dream pick at me so much?” You mumbled, fishing in your pockets for your phone.

“He’s jealous,” Nick answered absent-mindedly. “What's the date look like tonight?” He asked, referring to the reason you were there in the first place. This wasn’t the first time or the last time your roommate had kicked you out. It was becoming a more frequent occurrence for you to end up on Nick’s couch or at their place in the middle of the day with your toothbrush and a change of clothes.

You moved to lean into his pillows. “I don’t know, it's the same granola fucker she’s been hanging around,” you answered.

He rubbed his chin with a slight smirk. “There’s a subtle justice to knowing she’s still with that asshat,” he commented, making you snort.

A week later, you were on your way back to your apartment after a lecture when someone felt you up. It was the straw on the camel’s back for you as you spin around to smack the guy, stirring up a few of the bystanders. You’d walked the rest of the way home, stepping through the door to be met with your roommate and her hookup twisted together in the kitchen.

You clamped your hand over your eyes, mumbling about how you just wanted to take a nap when you were once again sent to Nick’s. You let subtle tears fall as you trudged your way across the city, hoping to get out whatever darkness you had to your attitude. The last thing you wanted to do was confront Clay looking like you did. He was like the troll with the keys to the bridge. That was really the only reason the two of you ever talked, so you knew he’d be waiting to berate you before you could get to Nick.

As you walked into the building, you spotted Clay carrying a large box, his hair slightly disheveled and his hands dirty. You knew almost instantly that he was probably attempting to fix the kitchen sink and got a call because of the size of the package. That sink had been dripping since they’d moved in, making it Clay’s mission to futz around with it every Friday afternoon. You tried helping him one time, only ending up with a deflated sense of confidence and the second wave of your childhood anger issues.

He nodded at you as you held the elevator door open for him. “What’s up, babycakes?” He chirped, popping his gum. When you hesitated to answer, he looked at you fully, scoffing. “Damn, walk of shame gone sour?”

You crossed your arms over your chest, inhaling deeply to try and calm your nerves. “I’m not really in the mood today,” you muttered, tucking your hands between your back and the wall.

He snorted, setting the box down between his feet. “You’re always in the mood! Isn’t that like your thing,” he continued to jeer. “You look like you had a fun night though-”

“Clay, stop. I’m serious,” barked at him. His expression twisting at your use of his name.

He raised his hands in mock defense. “Sorry, I thought we had---like a bit thing, um-” he cut himself off, awkwardly shoving his fists in his pockets. After a beat of silence between the two of you, the elevator came to a sharp halt on the wrong floor, the light switching to red. The two of you shared a look, knowing that the landlord was probably flipping the wrong switches again. Clay texted Nick to see what was going on.

It began to grow colder in the elevator, as it usually did. When it was off, the cold from outside usually seeped in through the elevator shaft. There was one time you were stuck in the elevator for a few hours with one of your neighbors and Karl when he had come to visit. Back then, the three of you played Uno on the guy’s phone. It was also summer, so the chill creeping up your legs wasn’t as intolerable as it was now.

You rubbed the arms of your sweater in hopes of generating some kind of warmth. Clay watched you carefully, his hands moving to grip the bar behind him. “Do you want my sweatshirt?” He offered. You shook your head, sliding onto the ground and hugging your knees to your chest. He hesitantly slumped down beside you, kicking his long legs out towards the door. The red light filling the space made his features look softer.

He nudged your arm gently with his own. “I know I’m not Sapnap, but…” he chewed on the inside of his cheek, shrugging slightly, “I mean, we’re stuck in here. We can talk about it.”

You blinked away the tears threatening to spill once again, your eyes burning and tired. “I haven’t slept with him, you know?” You stated, turning to look at him briefly before moving to sit cross-legged, planning with your fingers. “I’ve never even kissed him. I’ve never kissed anyone,” you scoffed. Clay was silent, but out of the corner of your eye, you could see him watching you intently.

Being this close to him, you could smell the smoky vanilla undertones of his cologne. The scent reminded you of a masculine version of the candle your aunt always burned when she went out for a night to spite her ex-husband.

Clay leaned his head back against the wood paneling, his soft blond hair flattening in the back to spread against the wall. You swallowed, sighing slightly. “I haven’t even had my first kiss yet and I’m getting groped on the bus and kicked out of my damn apartment because my roommate and her fucking boyfriend have to hook up on every surface. Nothing is sacred.” You shook your head, wiping away some stray tears with the back of your hand and sniffling pathetically. “You can keep making slut jokes, I don’t care. But I swear to God, I haven’t done anything with Sapnap. Or Karl, or Quackity. No one.”

He chuckled softly. “I know. That’s why I used to make those jokes,” he mumbled. “It was like… ironic humor. And then it got so far that the only way I knew you’d talk back to me was if I was fucking around with you,” he admitted. You chuckled slightly at his words, taking a deep breath.

“Oh, Dream,” you sighed. “I would have hooked up with you if you weren’t such an ass,” you chided. His laugh made you feel better. He held his hand out to you, more for support than anything, but as you laced your fingers with his, your heart eased, feeling safe beside him.

After a beat of silence, he spoke up again. "I can ride the bus with you now... if you want..." He offered, a shyness that seemed so foreign to his character shown through his eyes. "I promise I won't grope you," he joshed, making you roll your eyes.

"That's really not something we should be joking about," you mumbled, wiping away the rest of your tears on your sleeve.

His thumb brushed against the back of your hand soothingly. "I mask my awkwardness around you in dark humor. I'm sorry."

#dream imagine #dream fluff #dreamwastaken imagine #dreamwastaken fanfic #dreamwastaken fluff #dream x reader #dream x y/n #dream x you #dreamwastaken angst #dream angst #mcyt imagine #mcyt x you

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a-small-batch-of-dragons · 3 years

Text

Words, Words, Words

Prompt: Hey, prompt idea! I would love some roman angst where after POF he stops talking and the other assume that he's mad at them when in reality he is unable to speak. As a selective mute myself, I would love to read a fic like this! - anon

it's been a while since I've posted fresh Roman angst and WOW did this jump out at me and go hey do you wanna project really really hard onto a character?

Read on Ao3

Warnings: Roman is nonverbal for a lot of this story and some of the things he does when he’s upset by that are self-destructive, nothing explicit

Pairings: the found family kick aint stopping

Word Count: 4128

He didn’t do it on purpose. He swears, he—he didn’t do it on purpose.

He just couldn’t talk.

It—it hurt, of…of course, it hurt to—to see the fallout of his bad decision explode with such…disastrous consequences. It hurt to see Patton so upset and confused because everyone was expecting him to have answers that he didn’t and—and Roman will take the blame for that, that’s his fault. And it hurt to see Logan so upset even when he was just there in his lowdowns and he—he didn’t have to be so cruel to Logan, that’s his fault too. And it—

…it hurt to see that he really is just as awful as Remus, even if J—

No. It doesn’t matter.

Roman messed up. Really, really bad. And he’ll take the blame for that, he will, he—he knows he hasn’t been the best at accepting the blame in the past, but…he’ll take this one.

But he didn’t do this on purpose.

Roman doesn’t know whether it’s because he’s Creativity, or whether he’s the Ego, or what, but sometimes he just…can’t speak. Sometimes his words machine will just…stop working and he won’t be able to speak. He can normally still write or text, and he can understand when others talk, he just can’t say anything.

The others don’t know, at least he’s never told them. He doesn’t want to be a bother—or have them start to make fun of him when he can’t defend himself—so he normally makes his writing days the ones where he can’t speak out loud. It’s a good way to make sure no one’s worried about why he’s shut up in his room all day or why he’s not speaking much at dinner. Plus, what kind of a prince would he be if he couldn’t talk?

Don’t worry, he knows he’s not a prince.

But the others like Prince Roman. Or rather, they like the narrative function that Prince Roman fulfills. So he does his best to make sure they…get that.

But he didn’t mean for it to happen, not like this.

He…he knows he messed up after the wedding. He sunk out and made it to his room and fell to his knees, hurt from everything and then some. The bruises hadn’t shown through his costume or gotten too far down his sleeves, but he—he still felt them. He tried to get up and make it to the shower to just wash off the day—the week—the month but getting his arms up to peel away the costume left him panting and he just wanted to curl up and sleep until everything stopped hurting.

He managed to get himself into the shower and felt his tongue become lead in his mouth.

He cleared his throat to try and make a noise but all that escaped was a soft rush of air.

It…hurt.

It wasn’t gone by morning. Most of the time he can sleep it off or—or if he just gives it some time he’ll—he’ll be fine but it wasn’t gone. His tongue lay there, useless, and he couldn’t say a word.

That was okay, though, he could—he could make this a writing day. He wouldn’t dare touch anything he wanted to make for Thomas, his hands would shake too much and he—he doesn’t know what Thomas wants anymore so he wouldn’t get it right even if he could try.

No, no, he could…he could write things for him today.

Not as a reward for his atrocious behavior, not anything that would be read by anyone else or be useful in any way, but just to…to get some of the worst bits of him out so he wasn’t absolutely abominable when the others wanted him again. Yes, today he could…write.

‘Writing,’ what an interesting word for being willing to sit and bleed for others to see.

Roman’s words don’t so much as pour out of him as much as he sets his fingers on his keys and then can’t control his typing. He just—it hurt and he knows that no one else would want to hear about his hurt so he pours them out into the blank spaces in the white page and tries to imagine that maybe, maybe, someone would read them and see how badly it hurt and pull him close and tell him that everything would be okay.

If maybe, if he wrote a story good enough, if he made it hurt enough, someone would care.

He sits there and pours into the blank document until it’s panting and weary from the torrent of words, until his hands ache and the tips of his fingers are worn warm and raw from the click-click-click of the keys. Until the hurt he feels gathers up into a small, dark well just under his tongue, right in the bottom of his jaw, itching and screaming to get out. It leaks out down his arms, making the inside of his wrists tingle as he types.

No one will read this, no one will see it. These words won’t see the light of day anytime soon.

And Roman’s tongue is still made of lead.

He takes his words and lets them tumble clumsily out of his hands, trying in vain to scoop them up and shove them out of his mouth instead but his tongue won’t cooperate. He knows he can’t talk, that he can’t force it, that trying to make it happen will only lead to more pain.

But he wants to try.

When his words aren’t back by the next day, he swallows what’s left of his pride, which isn’t much, and goes out to face the others.

He finds Patton first. Patton doesn’t acknowledge him, so he sits politely down on the couch with a notebook and waits, trying to see if his words will come out through the pen instead of his tongue. But Patton doesn’t talk to him unless he’s asking if Roman wants a drink and well, Roman doesn’t—doesn’t need words for that.

Patton looks so disappointed in him.

He wants to try. He wants to open his mouth and tell Patton he’s sorry. Sorry for everything. He wants to. He wants to.

He opens his mouth and his tongue deflates, useless, just enough for him to sigh and hunch his shoulders in defeat.

He doesn’t want to disappoint Patton, he wasn’t trying to disappoint Patton, he wants to apologize and be better, but he can’t.

Perhaps that is the true disappointment.

Logan is next to appear because Logan is Logan and Roman loves him and Logan always gets his cup of coffee in the morning before breakfast. He walks down the stairs and also does not look at Roman which is fine because that is what Roman deserves but he wants to try.

He opens his mouth to call out to Logan or Patton but his tongue is so heavy and he can’t. He can’t speak. He should be able to speak, he should be able to say something to Logan, he should be able to tell him how sorry he is but he can’t and he’s useless.

His pen stands frozen on the notebook pages, leaving a big, dark, useless well of ink.

Logan sits down on the couch with a book and his coffee. He doesn’t look up at Roman. Roman stares at him, pleading, hoping that Logan will look up and meet his gaze, and maybe, just maybe, he can see how sorry Roman is and it will—something will be better.

“Don’t stare at me, Roman, it’s rude.”

Roman’s cheeks burn as he looks away. Logan didn’t move his eyes from the book once.

He picks up the pen and watches it drip onto the page. The pages are wet, now, so much so that when he tries to pull them apart they stick together, the lines threatening to tear as he tries to separate them.

He leaves them be.

The next few hours are spent in a loop of trying to open his mouth to say something and only a soft rush of air escaping. He tries to hold it behind his hand and say please, I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to be so awful, I’ll be better, I promise, but the words won’t come. His tongue is taunting him, he decides, by pressing insistently up against the back of his teeth until he has to open his mouth only for it to refuse to produce words.

He wants Logan to explain to him that talking works for him too. That the vocal chords and the muscles of the throat moving together build up pressure behind the larynx, which then chops up the stream of air to produce a steady oscillation for a sustained sound. He wants Logan to say it in that voice of his that makes it so everything makes sense so of course, Roman, you can speak, it’s okay. Everything is okay.

But Logan would never say that, not to Roman, because Roman’s words aren’t worth Logan’s time.

When Virgil comes downstairs, he tries. He really tries. He opens his mouth and everything and takes a deep breath and—

Virgil marches straight over to Logan and sits down, his head on Logan’s shoulder and the two of them could not be paying any less attention to Roman.

The wind gets knocked out of him. His mouth falters closed. He tries to open it away but his jaws are stiff and gummy, his teeth aching in his mouth as he tries to just talk. He just wants to say something, he just wants to apologize, he just waits to be sorry and have them all know he’s sorry, he’s so sorry, but they won’t know because he doesn’t have words.

The words he wants to say are queuing up at the back of his throat, weighing his mouth down and he wants to say them, but he—he—he can’t. He wants to tell Virgil that he’s sorry he’s been the worst friend ever, that he’s sorry he’s so awful to their famILY, that he’ll go away and leave them all alone if that’s what they want but he can’t say a damn word of it out loud and he’s going to cry.

But he can’t because crying isn’t words and the only thing the others want from him is words.

If Virgil notices him trying, which he probably doesn’t, he’s kind enough not to say anything.

Roman is terrified when Remus comes.

Because Remus is loud and loves nothing more than to make Roman’s life harder. If Remus knew he was nonverbal right now, his best bet would be to leave as quickly as possible because he—

Wait, no.

If Roman wanted it to be best for him, he would leave as fast as possible. But Roman doesn’t know anything anymore so he doesn’t move.

Remus, as it turns out, doesn’t care about Roman—which, why would he?—and instead flops proudly onto the floor and begins to talk animatedly with Logan about something.

Roman wants to say sorry. Sorry that he’s never done anything right when it comes to Remus, sorry that he thinks being compared to him is the worst thing possible, sorry that he’s Roman and Remus is stuck with him.

But his tongue is lifeless.

So he is quiet, flipping aimlessly through his notebook, looking for something to give his words back.

Was he selfish yesterday? Did he use all of them up on something no one would ever see? No, no, that’s not how it works, he just—he knows he should be able to talk, maybe if he just waits a little longer, his words will come back.

But then Janus appears.

And Roman needs to be able to talk now.

Because he needs to tell Janus that he’s sorry. That he messed everything up and he’s awful and he knows it and he’s so, so, so sorry. And he needs to know that it isn’t a lie, that Roman is genuinely sorry and he just needs to speak, if he could just open his mouth and say something and say that he’s sorry and—and—

Janus stops and looks right at him.

Roman’s breath catches in his throat.

Janus’s eyes narrow.

Please, please, I’m sorry, let me say I’m sorry, I can’t speak, I want to speak, let me speak—

Janus’s face cools into stone and he deliberately turns away.

Roman wants to scream.

He scrambles away from the living room and his hands fly to his hair, squeezing, pulling, trying to rip the sound from his throat because it won’t come otherwise. Trying to reach deep inside and find something, some word, some sound, some thing just to make it so he can talk, say he’s sorry, say anything.

The computer screen blinks mockingly at him. Come on, it taunts, where was this agony when you were pouring your words out onto me yesterday? Why do you ache so badly now when you know you can’t do anything about it? Is it worth it?

Nothing will ever be worth this. To have them there, right in front of him, and not be able to tell them how sorry he is.

A silent scream is the best he can do.

It doesn’t stop. His tongue doesn’t flicker back to life. Even after two days, three days, four, he still can’t manage to speak. He can’t manage to open his mouth and make a single word come out. He tries. He sits down in front of the computer and glares at the screen, forcing his mouth to make the shapes and forcing his vocal chords to make the sounds.

He never gets further than a single word.

He rushes, slurs, cheats in any way he can, and doesn’t even manage to get to the end of a sentence.

He’s panting, in tears, trying, trying, trying so hard to say something, anything, because if he can say one thing, he can say more, and if he can say more, he can tell them how sorry he is.

Roman would gladly give up all the words he doesn’t have to be able to say ‘sorry’ again.

(Logan, downstairs, glances up from his book.

Virgil is sprawled next to him on the couch, his head resting against Logan’s thigh. Patton is sitting on the other end, Virgil’s legs in his lap as he talks to Janus. Janus sits in the chair, his own book forgotten on his lap. Well, almost forgotten as he tugs it out of Remus’s grasp as he makes…something on the floor.

“It’s been quiet recently,” he remarks to himself, “almost…peaceful.”

Virgil shifts. “Yeah, I know. I kinda like it.”

“So do I.” He glances down and, after a moment of hesitation, slides his hand into Virgil’s hair. “Is this alright?”

“Yeah, L, that’s fine.”

“Aww, you two are cute.” Patton grins at them. “It’s been nice lately, hasn’t it?”

“Mm.” Janus tugs the book out of Remus’s reach again. “Remus, I certainly understand what you want with my book.”

“Art, Janny.”

Janus rolls his eyes fondly but his gaze softens as he takes in the room. It has been quiet. A good kind of quiet.

He doesn’t know it didn’t happen on purpose.

That Roman isn’t being quiet on purpose.

He didn’t do it on purpose.

Because when has anything Roman’s done on purpose been right?)

——————————————

Thomas sighs, his hands on his hips, as Patton and Logan begin to bicker for the third time in the past ten minutes. Across from him, Virgil is fidgeting uncomfortably as his gaze flicks back and forth between Janus and Thomas.

“Guys, are you really not going to do anything about this?”

“Oh, yes, because that’s how we solve every problem, just make me deal with it.”

“Okay, first of all, I said you guys meaning you and Thomas, second—“

“Oh, here we go, another lecture, oh goodie.”

“That is not what I’m doing—“

And now Virgil and Janus are fighting too. Thomas resists the urge to bury his face in his hands. Barely. Just barely. He shakes his head. The Sides aren’t normally this hard to manage, typically it’s just a matter of everyone actually understanding what’s going on and then one of them will propose a solution and they’ll all wrangle it around from angle to angle until he finally gets a workable one.

Not this time.

He’s not sure why nothing’s working, but everything that’s been proposed just sounds like another problem, not a solution. Why coming up with ideas is so hard today, he doesn’t—

Wait.

Has…has Roman said anything today?

Thomas glances at Roman. Roman stands where he always does, watching the others with a strangely blank look on his face. Thomas frowns. Roman…Roman doesn’t look great. He looks paler than usual, his face is a little poofy.

“Roman?”

Roman looks at him, his brow quirked.

“Do you…have any ideas?”

Roman’s face falls and he swallows. Thomas’s frown deepens when Roman shakes his head sadly.

“Hey, wait,” Virgil says, turning to face him, “Thomas is right. You haven’t said anything all meeting.”

“You have been remarkably quiet. Especially for you.” Logan adjusts his glasses. “Have you not come up with a single idea?”

“Okay, guys, wait—“ Thomas tries.

“No wonder we aren’t making any progress,” Virgil cries, throwing up his hands, “it’s because the guy whose job it is to come up with ideas isn’t doing anything!”

“That…would explain it.”

“Come on, kiddo,” Patton says, looking at Roman, “you must have something.”

Roman just shakes his head again.

“Of course he doesn’t want to share it with us,” Virgil growls, “he’s probably waiting for us to figure it out for him because he’s still mad.”

Patton sighs, shaking his head and putting his hands on his hips. Even Thomas wants to flush from the disappointment in his voice. “I understand being mad at us, kiddo—I’m not happy about it, but I understand it—but taking it out on Thomas? That’s really selfish of you.”

Roman flinches, his hand going to his chest. Janus rolls his eyes.

“Oh, Roman doesn’t know what that word means, remember? He’s all about selflessness, not selfishness, no, not a single selfish bone in his body, Roman.”

Virgil snorts.

“I am also disappointed,” Logan sighs, “but not surprised. But seriously, Roman, I think this temper tantrum of yours has gone on long enough.”

“Watch out, he’s gonna say it’s not a temper tantrum.”

Is…is this how they are to Roman all the time? Thomas stares at the other Sides in confusion. Has he just never noticed how mean they are to each other before? Or is this…new? He looks back at Roman and opens his mouth to say something when he notices Roman’s hand is still on his chest.

And…moving.

His thumb is tucked against the top of his fist and Thomas watches as it circles once, twice, and stops. Once, twice, and stops.

“Roman,” he says softly, cutting through the growing voices of the others, “Roman, why are you sorry?”

“What?”

“Thomas, what’re you—“

“That—this—“ Thomas makes the sign himself—“that’s the ASL for ‘sorry.’ Remember?”

Logan looks back at Roman who does it again. “So it is. But—Roman, why are you communicating using ASL, which none of us are fluent in? Most of us aren’t fluent in, my apologies, Janus—“ Janus waves him off— “why not just say that you’re sorry?”

“Roman,” Thomas asks, still quiet, “can you speak?”

They all watch in silence as Roman slowly shakes his head.

“What do you mean you can’t speak?”

“Probably just that, Virgil.” Logan adjusts his glasses.

Thomas spares him a glance before refocusing on Roman. “Are you okay, buddy?”

Roman looks at the ground. Virgil watches him for a moment before leaning to Logan.

“I’m gonna guess that’s a ‘no.’”

“How long has this been happening?”

“Yes or no questions, guys,” Thomas reminds, “and…not too many.”

“Right.” Logan takes a breath and when he speaks again, Thomas furrows his brow at how much softer Logan sounds. “Roman, has this been happening since the beginning of the meeting?”

Roman nods.

“Has it been happening for longer?”

Another nod.

“How long,” Virgil asks warily, only for Logan to hiss ‘yes or no’ in his ear, “right, um…has it been happening for longer than a day?”

Roman nods, studiously avoiding eye contact. Janus bites back a curse.

“Roman, have you not been able to speak since the wedding?”

When Roman nods again, Thomas has to bite back a curse of his own. Virgil doesn’t.

“Fuck, Princey, why didn’t you tell one of us?”

“With what words,” Janus spits, “and who’s to say we would’ve believed him?”

“Oh, sweetheart,” Patton murmurs, reaching for him, “I’m so sorry.”

At this, Roman shakes his head furiously.

“Hey, hey, easy, Princey, it’s okay, what was that for?”

“He seemed to really dislike the idea of Patton apologizing…”

“What were you apologizing for, Roman,” Thomas asks instead, “before we—before?”

Roman nods.

“Yeah, bud, you were apologizing, do you remember what for?”

A nod.

“He’s saying ‘yes,’” Virgil murmurs.

“Yeah, we got that.”

“No, I mean—“ Virgil sighs— “you asked him what he was apologizing for and he’s saying ‘yes.’ That means anything you could ask him if he’s apologizing for, he’d say yes.”

“So…” Logan looks back and forth between them. “He’s apologizing for…everything?”

“Yeah.”

And Roman nods.

“Oh, sweetie,” Janus says softly and whoa, that’s…unexpected, “you don’t need to do that.”

Roman’s mouth hardens stubbornly as if to say yes I do.

“You can’t be blamed for not being able to speak, Roman,” Logan says gently, “it’s not your fault.”

“Kiddo,” Patton calls when Roman still looks unsure, “are you mad at us?”

Roman’s head snaps up and he shakes his head frantically. Patton holds out his arms to soothe him.

“And we’re not mad at you, sweetheart, it’s okay. We’ll figure it out.”

“Let’s call it here,” Thomas says, giving Roman a nod, “we can figure this out later.”

“What do you need, Roman,” Virgil asks, “how can we help?”

“That’s…definitely not a yes or no question.”

Thomas frowns. Then he reaches out a hand.

“Hey!” Remus pops up, manic grin and all. “What’s shakin’, bacon?”

“I do not think bacon shakes, Remus.”

“Sir Francis Bacon?”

“What?”

“You two gotta stop watching Phineas and Ferb,” Virgil mutters.

Remus just grins and turns, freezing when he sees Roman. Thomas blinks and Remus’s entire demeanor changes.

“Ro-Bro? Roro, you okay?”

Roman looks up at him. Remus lays a hand on his shoulder.

“You nonverbal?”

Roman nods. Remus wraps his arms around Roman’s waist.

“I’m taking this,” he announces, “bye!”

Thomas chuckles as Remus sinks out, Roman in tow, even as Patton and Virgil rush after them going ‘let us help!’ Logan just rolls his eyes fondly and follows them. Thomas catches hold of Janus’s cloak before he can leave too.

“Are you guys always like that to Roman?”

Janus gives him a strange look. “You mean are you always like that to Roman?”

“What?”

“We’re you, Thomas,” Janus says bluntly, “we’re the physical manifestation of what goes on in your head. Or have you forgotten that your main way of problem-solving is to summon metaphysical color-coded versions of yourself and talk to them?”

“Your point?”

“The way we act is how you see us. We behave how our respective parts of you behave.” Janus gives him a look. “If you think we’re being mean to Roman, what does that say about how you feel about your Ego or your Creativity?”

Oh.

Oh, no.

“Take better care of yourself,” Janus says, softer now, “and it might surprise you.”

“You really can’t help yourself, can you?”

“I think,” Janus says, looking far too smug as he pulls away, “you mean that you can’t help yourself.”

Thomas scoffs as Janus disappears but after a few seconds, his words start to make sense. He turns to grab his laptop and opens it, finding a blank document and watching the cursor blink.

The others might not be able to listen to Roman, but he always can.

“Alright,” he mutters to himself, “let’s see what Roman’s got to say.”

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#dragonbabbles #sanders sides #fic #roman sanders #roman angst #roman sanders angst #virgil sanders #remus sanders #patton sanders #sympathetic remus #deceit sanders #sympathetic deceit #janus sanders #logan sanders

279 notes · View notes

bonny-kookoo · 3 years

Text

Under Your Skin (JJK x Reader) | 🔞

Pairing: Tattoo Artist!Goth/Punk!Jeon Jungkook x Secretary!Shy!Reader

Genre: Tattoo artist!AU, Badboy x Sweetgirl AU, Idk what else

Tags/Warnings: Ultimate goodboy Kook, He looks grr but is actually sweet, shy reader, smol reader, Kookers is WHIPPED, Also a tease, Dom!Jungkook because how could I not, Sub!Reader, Babygirl!Reader, Its not heavy on the whole ddlg-stuff but yeah they be having some vibes y'know, don't come @ me don't I'm not forcing you to read it lol, anyways moving on, because smut, yes I mean it's my content, and yall nasty admit it, slight hair pulling, manhandling also only a little, oral (f & m receiving), praising, mentions of emotional and physical insecurities, but Kook be supportive so we good, back to the nasty, body worship yes pls, biting, fingering, because why not, protected sex because we keep it clean in this household, light-hearted sex, kook being a romantic goof, yeah I think thats it?

Summary: Jungkook looks like absolute trouble; like one wrong look could set him off, and turn him into an absolute murderer. But oh well, ever heard the phrase 'Never judge a book by its cover'?

A/N: you might have noticed me only putting one emoji up top. I have decided to from now on only mark my adult fics with emojis (which is basically almost every single one lets be real). Also; stop reading my fucking fics if any of the tagged/warned things make you uncomfortable. I'm tired of everyone clowning in my inbox telling me how disgusting ddlg/smut content is. You can't even tell me you 'read it by accident' because that's why I'm always putting the cut underneath my fics =) so pls go finish preschool and then we can maybe shake hands. Maybe not. Covid and all. Yeah.

On the outside, Jeon Jungkook seems like absolute trouble.

He's working at a tattoo and piercing studio, dresses in all black, clattering chains and heavy boots always alerting everyone around of his presence. His long black hair is never truly tamed, his nails painted black, and his face expressionless most of the time. He's a talented artist and well trained piercer, always visiting conventions to keep up with the newest trends, styles, and equipment there is. He takes his job seriously- and is proud of it, knowing that he had proven his family wrong by now. They had been worried about him; especially his mother had scolded him that he shouldn't throw his time away trying to make it in a world of art many had already failed. But last year, he had finally invited them over to his rather nice apartment, showing them that he was living a good life, with nothing to really worry about.

Jungkook had made it.

Well, not quite.

Because as of currently, Jungkook had a new mission, a new goal.

"Ah, Jungkook!" You say, eyes sparkling as you smile at him when he enters the shop he works at. You had recently started to work there as well, since Taehyung was absolute shit at keeping files in order and track of schedules. You hadn't applied for the job specifically, that's at least what his coworker had told him- he had known you prior already, and was aware that you had wanted a change these days.

And Jungkook had been painfully crushing on you ever since you started.

"Your schedule for the week is already here- I uhm.. didn't put it on your desk cause, I didn't want to intrude your space and all.." You say, giving him a small black booklet where you always noted down his appointments. He appreciated it a lot- knowing how much of a hassle it could be to move dates back and forth just to somehow make it fit. You always made sure that he had enough time in between multiple daily pieces in case something took longer or less so you could make sure to be able to move things accordingly. You didn't want him to get overworked, you had said. He had smiled.

"Thanks- and you can go inside, no problem." He says, and you nod. "I know you don't make a mess, like someone else here." He says, hinting at Namjoon, who was known to be quite clumsy- yet a mastermind when it came to designing pieces he struggled with. Jungkook stayed at your front desk for a bit, making you tilt your head a bit, as you tried not to stare. He always took so much care of himself, you would have had to be blind not to see how attractive he actually was. But then again, you didn't get your hopes up- after all, he was nice to almost everyone around. "You've never been in there, right?" He asks, and you shake your head. You haven't been in his space at all- too scared to invade his privacy and making him upset in the process. "I mean- you got time right now? I can show you around." He casually tells you, and you look at your computer screen in front of you. Everything had been filed for today- so you probably had a bit of time to spare.

"Sure." You said, taking your phone and standing up from your chair, making sure to lock the pc so no one would accidentally make a mess out of your tabs. Or worse; close them. God knows all hell would break loose.

Jungkook had to really force himself not to let out any noise as you walked next to him.

You were so tiny next to him.

He wasn't that tall to be honest- with Namjoon and Taehyung both taller than him, he knew he was average at best. And for the longest time, he'd had a thing for tall girls, all elegant and confident. He still liked their aesthetic, yes- but now that he spotted you, he could really see the appeal of having a shorter significant other.

You were so cute.

You carefully stepped inside when Jungkook lifted the curtain that was used instead of a door, surprised to see how.. organized everything was. A little.. off- some things seemed to be randomly put somewhere, but in general, it seemed like everything had their proper spot. "I like to have it like this." He comments, and you nod your head to that, finally spotting his tattoo-gun. It was made out of purple steel- polished, and changing its hue depending on how you looked at it. It was absolutely beautiful, even though you had a rather limited understanding of these things. "Was a present from Taehyung last year." Jungkook says, sitting down on his chair. "I never asked- are you inked at all?" He asks, leaning backwards as you stand there a little awkwardly. "You can sit down somewhere, don't be so tense." He chuckles, and you look around, before you sit on the stretcher across from him. You shake your head, and Jungkook isn't surprised. Your pink converse sway back and forth as you sit on the stretcher, legs too short to reach the floor anymore as you rest your hands underneath your thighs; hem of your dress revealing more of them than he can usually see.

"I don't have any tattoos yet, but I've been talking to Namjoon about it." You said, and Jungkooks saliva tastes a little bitter at that. He doesn't want to pout or give away that it's bugging him at all that you're not talking to him about it- but he fails miserably. "Namjoon actually said I should talk to you about it, since the style I want fits you best." You say, and he can't hide his smile, bunny teeth on full display as he leans forward a bit.

"You'd let me tattoo you?" He asks, and you shrug, before nodding. "What do you have in Mind?" He instantly asks, not even bothering to hide his excitement.

If only you knew that it's because of you; and not just because he's gonna be the first to ink you.

You've both agreed on a design you want, and Jungkook can't deny that he thinks it's absolutely perfect on you.

"Are you scared?" Jungkook asks you as he prepares everything, his sweater's sleeves rolled up, revealing his own body art to you, as well as some bracelets; one that you recognize as the wooden-bead bracelet you had gifted him last year for his birthday. It was weird to see him wear it.

"I.. no. Just nervous." You say. "I'm worried I might cry and make a fool out of myself." You say with a laugh, and Jungkook chuckles, placing a reassuring and warm hand on your upper arm.

"It's fine. I've seen grown man cry like kids on this stretcher before." He casually says. "Don't worry; I won't think any less of you just because of some tears." He says with a smile, and you nod, turning your head to look at his room's walls instead; covered in drawings, sketches, and pictures of finished works he was most proud of. "Do you want anything to hold onto?" He asks, as he starts to shave the skin of your thigh to make sure he can work as best as possible. He's so into his work, so concentrated on doing everything perfect, that he doesn't even take much into account that you're laying in only your panties and oversized sweater; skirt neatly placed on a chair in the corner of the room, to get it out of the way.

"It's fine" You mumble, although you really want to. So instead you curl your fingers around the fabric of your sweater- something that doesn't go unnoticed by Jungkook, who decides not to comment on it for now. He simply throws the one-time razor away as well as the tissues used to clean your skin, before he carefully places the tracing paper onto where he seems fit.

"I think it would look great right here." He says lowly, carefully removing the paper to reveal the lines he's gonna trace with his gun in a few minutes. "You wanna look at it again?" He asks, and you shake your head. "Alright." He says, before he gets up and walks out his room; only to return with your small squishy and round unicorn plush that's usually sitting on your desk. "To hold onto." He winks, and you chuckle at that.

Jungkook really pays attention.

"So, Taehyung has told me you're a bit younger than me." Jungkook says to start casual chit-chat, trying to help your nervousness as his tattoo-gun starts to buzz to live. "Only a Year if I remember correctly." He says, and you nod.

"Yeah.." You say, and can't hide your dissapoinment flooding your voice. Jungkook, until now, only had relationships with girls older than him. He's even said before that he just likes having someone older than him around- which made you even more nervous around him.

"You sound upset about that." He chuckles, and gently holds onto your thigh as you jump a bit when he first presses the tip of the gun down. "Sorry. I'll be gentle." He lowly tells you, and you swallow.

Not the time Y/N, not the time.

"Uhm.." You say, fingers digging into the squishy plush in your hands. "I.. there's someone I like, but he.. only likes older girls, so.." You say, and Jungkook glances at you. You're already interested in someone? He continues to trace the lines, wiping afterwards to get the excess ink and blood off. "But I mean, then again I don't think I have a chance with him anyways." You chuckle, and Jungkook can't help but shake his head. Even if you're interested in someone else, he shouldn't let you have thoughts like that.

"Highly doubt that." He says. "If he doesn't see you, he's blind." He tells you, and you giggle, glad that he's able to make you feel a bit better about everything. "I'm serious." He says, and you nod at that, watching his inked arm flex every now and then as he draws with absolute concentration; black facemask hiding half of his face. You can see the way his eyebrows furrow, eyes fixated on his work as he moves with absolute routine. "Do I know the guy?" He casually asks, before he dips the tip of his gun in the tiny pot of ink again.

You don't know what to say.

He looks at you for a second, and decides not to dig. "You don't have to tell me. Sorry if I seemed nosy; didn't mean to." He apologizes, and you shake your head to let him know its fine. It's quiet for a moment afterwards, only the buzzing of his gun and your occasional whine of pain. "Sorry; it'll hurt a bit more now since I'm getting close to your inner thigh- that's always a little more sensitive." He comments, and you really hope he doesn't pay much attention to your panties.

When you can see his eyes stick to them for a second, you really want to just disappear.

He doesn't comment on it though. What is he suppsosed to say? He really doesn't want to make you uncomfortable, and considering that you already have a crush on someone else, he doesn't want to get himself in too deep as well. He simply works away, finally finishing the thin and delicate outlines of your piece- the first step, before he will see you again for color and shading. He finally connects the last line, and doesn't think twice about what he says next.

"Good girl."

It takes a second that feels way too long for the both of you to register the words, and Jungkook quickly occupies himself with turning off his gun and cleaning up your skin and his workspace to get the awkwardness out of his room. You try to instantly stand up, but his palm holds onto your leg- silently ordering you to stay put, which you do. He rubs something over the piece, before he gently lifts your leg to wrap it. "I'll give you a bottle of lotion for it. Leave that bandage on for.. I'd say until tomorrow morning at least. Afterwards, apply the lotion everyday to help it heal properly." He lectures you with a gentle voice, before letting you sit up.

"Thanks." You say, grinning eagerly at the now hidden artwork on your leg. Jungkook chuckles.

"We're not done yet, but I'll take it." He says. "I uh.." He starts, as you jump off the stretcher and go to take on your skirt. "uhm, you up for some fast food?" He asks, a bit hurried, before he can chicken out again. And he hates himself for a moment, because you had literally told him just half an hour before that you already had interest in someone else. But maybe you were too innocent to get his innuendo, maybe you wouldn't get that he was asking you on a date-

"Like a date?" You ask, and he really wants to hit himself.

"I mean, if you want it to be?" He says, swallowing as he averts his gaze, a sight very weird. His hand runs through his hair, chain around his neck and piercings on his ears clattering against each other and making sounds as he moves, his combat boots nervously tapping the floor a little. "It doesn't have to be.. I know you're already-"

"I'd love to." You say however, now fully dressed again, as you grin with your bright sparkling eyes.

And Jungkook feels like he's won the lottery.

It's your third time laying on Jungkooks' stretcher like this- waiting for him to work on your art, finishing it today. But the energy is different.

Things are different between you two in general.

After some casual movie dates and rounds of overwatch, Jungkook had admitted to you that he had a crush. It was rushed, while he was driving, so he didn't have to look at you and instantly get hit by your reaction. But then, you had told him that you felt the same- and the two of you agreed to let things process from then on. Whatever would happen; you would let happen.

And Jungkook was starting to flirt with you.

It was a little weird to get close to him like that. While everyone seeing you two was a little taken aback- with your dresses and skirts, and colorful and almost childish personality, he seemed like the absolute opposite- quiet, all dark and dangerous while carrying your milkshake so you could put your phone away into your purse.

"Alright doll, let's finish this." He said with newfound enthusiasm, winking at you as you laughed at his demeanor.

"You seemed more excited than me!" You say, and he chuckles. "You're really desperate to have me gone?" You say in a playfully upset tone, and he simply huffs out a breath, before cockily looking at you for a second.

"That's not true." He says. "I'd just rather have you laid out somewhere else than in my studio, that's all." He casually says, and you shut your mouth at that, cheeks red as he laughs at your cute display of embarrassment. He routinely prepares your skin, before he starts his gun. "Too much?" He asks, and you know he's not talking about the pressure of his ink filled gun on your skin.

"No-" You start, and he now seriously speaks to you, voice a bit muffled through his facemask.

"Please tell me if I ever make you uncomfortable." He says. "You're not upsetting me if you tell me I'm going to far." He says, and you nod, knowing that he now needs a proper answer. Jungkook is way more attentive and romantic than people may think he is. He's a gentleman pulled out of a dictionary- careful and gentle with you, and always keen on getting to know you for you, and not for the person you like to portray yourself as. He wants to know what you like, what you don't like, what you dream of, and what you hate about yourself.

"Don't worry- I will." You say, watching him work on your skin. "Jungkook?" You ask, and he hums a reply to let you know he's listening. "Is it okay if I sleep?" You ask, and he chuckles.

"Didn't I tell you not to stay up for too long before I left yesterday?" He teasingly retorts back to you, and you pout at him- with no hard feelings behind it. He had left last night after eating with you for dinner at your place; and he did indeed tell you to go to sleep a little earlier since he knew you would have an early shift today, opening up the store. "I'm really tempted to say no." He says, eyes now on your skin again as he dips the tip of his gun in a pot of color. "You know, as punishment for not listening." He mumbles, and you almost don't catch it.

Almost.

"Jungkook?" Taehyung stands in his doorway, finally finding him sitting at his desk. "Oh?" He says in a surprised tone, spotting your sleeping figure on his coworkers lap- head resting against the inside of his shoulder, with your arms around his middle.

"Yeah?" Jungkook asks, not at all shy or fazed by the fact that Taehyung is looking at you. "What is it?" He asks again, as Taehyung smiles, giving the younger man his small booklet that you usually give him every morning.

"Nothing left for today." He said. "Just wanted to tell you good work and send you home." The older one explains, zipping up his own jacket. "Guess she'll be coming with you?" He asks teasingly, but Jungkook doesn't bite the bait at all.

"Yeah. Don't burn the house down while we're gone, you two. " He says, slipping the booklet into his pocket before he pats your back. "Come on doll, let's go home." He tells you, waking you up at least enough to put on your shoes and lead you out the store to his car.

He buckles your seatbelt as the engine comes alive, radio playing its tune softly in the background as he drives you home. "You awake doll?" He asks, and you nod your head, turning towards him with barely open eyes. "You haven't had anything proper to eat today, so I'll make us some ramen at my place, ok?" He asks, and you nod, before your eyebrows scrunch up. "What is it?" He chuckles, and you now grow more awake.

"Wait- but if we eat at yours then you're gonna have to drive me home late." You say, and he shrugs. "Noo, Kook, what if you crash the car because you're sleepy?" You tell him with a whine, genuinely concerned for him, as he has the audacity to laugh. "Kookie, it's not funny I swear to god-!" You say, and he apologizes.

"I mean." He starts, casually dropping what he had wanted to ask you for a couple of weeks now. "You could always just stay over." He tells you, and you look at him, meeting his gaze at the red light he stops at, his head turned towards you for a moment until the lights turn green again.

"We.. would have to stop at mine so I could get some stuff though.." You mumble, and Jungkook looks at you with newfound enthusiasm, setting his turning lights to enter a different road.

It's in a parking lot that you first unintentionally confront him with your biggest insecurities and flaws.

You've tripped over a stray stone you didn't see laying on the ground, leading you to fall onto your hands and scraping your knees open. Just like any normal human being, you dust yourself off, instantly hoping that Jungkook inside the shop hadn't seen you fail at something so basic as walking. You had carried some of the items you two had bought into the car while also returning the shopping cart while he had payed- and by the look on his face, he had definitely seen you.

He wasn't laughing, or hiding his grin, or anything alike. He looked concerned, taking his card back from the cashier before walking out the store, jogging towards you, who sat in the open trunk, ready to get laughed at. Even though somewhere deep in your mind you didn't think he would, past experiences had led to you now having that fear, no matter with whom. "Are you okay?" Jungkook asks, looking at you as he squats down to take a look at your bleeding knees. He reaches into one of the shopping bags, taking out a water bottle and a pack of tissues, before he wets it, one hand holding your leg by the backside of your knee, while the other carefully cleans the small wound. "You gotta be careful Baby." He chuckles a little- nothing like the laughter you had expected.

"I'm fine." You say, not looking up at him.

"It's okay to cry, you know?" He says, and you stay quiet, trying not to breathe too much as you desperately hold them back. "I won't laugh." He promises, deciding not to look at you as to give you a bit more space.

"People will stare though.." You quietly murmur towards him, and he finishes his job, before he goes to throw the now used tissue away in a nearby trashcan. When he returns, he's taking his jacket off, the item way too large on your form as he throws it over you, pulling the hood up as you look at him for the first time since your little accident, eyes sparkling with unshed tears when he pulls the sides of the hood towards him a little. "There." He says, a reassuring smile on his face. "Now no one can see you but me." He tells you. "And I will never, ever, laugh at you." He promises, and pulls your head against his chest, as you start to let go.

He really hates to see you cry- but he's glad that you're letting him in enough to let him see you this way.

Jungkook is frustrated.

He tries not to really show it, because he doesn't want to blow up in your face like that, but then again, you're kind of the reason he feels the way he does. Because even though he thought you both had a genuine connection, you're yet to let him touch you.

And not just hugging and holding hands.

It's not that he's impatient- its because he knows you, at one point, wanted him that way as well. But something happened, something he didn't notice, that made you take ten steps backwards from him. You seemed to be retreating, giving up, and he has no idea what he had done to make you react that way.

As far as he knows, he had done everything right.

But then he sees them; the messages sent back and forth between you and Hana, a returning customer at the shop- well known to flirt with everyone around here. Jungkook himself had actually considered hooking up with her once a year back, simply to make her shut up, but then again, he wasn't into one-night-stands. And she had never truly been his type anyways.

'Ah yeah, just re-schedule that then, I don't mind at all! Just make sure we have enough time together, since we haven't had time to catch up on things recently, if you know what I mean.' She had sent, a week ago; exactly the timeframe you had started to distance yourself. He knew he shouldn't look into it, but then again- this was his business too. He had the right to know.

'Sure? I can give you an appointment at around 4 PM then, so you'll be the last one. Would that be okay with you? Again, sorry for re-scheduling on such short notice.' You had written, and Jungkook can't decide if you had been oblivious to her implication (which was bullshit), or if you were simply too polite to call her out. But it's the next messages that make him fume.

'Again, no troubles. As I said, I only care that its Jungkookie, I don't really trust anyone else with my body that way ;). 4 PM is perfect, you guys still close at around 6 PM right? He's got skilled hands, I'm sure we don't need much more time, if you know what I mean.' she has the audacity to write.

But its your answer that makes him fume.

'Good to know.'

"Jungkook?" You say, looking at the screen, as you suddenly dash forwards, trying to shut the screen off- as if that would make any difference. But he catches your wrist with ease, holding it in his palm as he looks at you.

"Do you think I'm sleeping with her?" He asks, and you try to escape his grasp; and he lets you, staying at your workspace however as he keeps you locked in place with his gaze. "Y/N." He urges, making you look away from him.

"It's none of my business." You say, shrugging. "I.. No, it's-" You start, but he cuts you off.

"No, finish that sentence. 'No' what?" He says, and you've never heard him talk like that.

"I just.. didn't think you'd.. do that." You meekly say, murmuring it as he tilts your head gently upwards to look at him; his face now more relaxed as he softly smiles.

"That's good that you think that way." He tells you. "Because I don't do that at all." He says. "She likes to start drama all the time- was probably bitter I turned her down so much. You know what?" He suddenly says, turning towards the screen as he clicks to change the account, opening his own Inbox as he starts to write an E-Mail.

'Appointment is cancelled, be glad I'm not suing you for defamation. JK.'

"Jungkook-" You say, trying to get him not to send it- but it's already gone. "Why would you do that? Just because I misunderstood?" You whine, and he chuckles, shutting down the system as he looks at the clock, signaling that it's closing time.

"No." He says. "But because I don't want her around anyways, and this gives me a proper reason." He tells you, ruffling your hair as he looks at you. "You coming?" He asks, and you nod, taking your bag and coat before following him out the shop.

In the car, you finally speak up. "Jungkook?" You ask, and he hums out a reply. "Do you.. think I'm attractive?" You ask, and he clears his throat at the unexpected question.

"I- what?" He asks, unsure what you mean.

"Just.. Namjoon said, that he thinks you.. see me as a friend only? Because I'm nothing like the girls you dated before.. If I misunderstood something here then Oh my god-" You start to ramble, and Jungkook laughs suddenly.

"You think I'm not into you?" He asks, and you shrug. "Of course I want to fuck you doll." He casually comments, and you can't help but feel your cheeks redden. "Wait- did you really think I didn't?" He asks, face showing genuine horror as he looks over at you.

"I mean.. you never really initiated anything so I thought.." You started, and he groans out.

Thank god you're staying the night.

"Looks so pretty, does it?" He hums out, palm running over the tattoo on your thigh, delicate lines and well-placed shadings complimenting the colors perfectly. "You know why I love it most?" He starts, hand suddenly gripping the flesh for a moment, before he pulls you closer on his lap by the small of your back. "Because that's mine." He says, before he leans in, placing an open mouthed kiss against your pulse. "The ink that's under your skin, the design, the idea-" He mumbles against your skin. "And the body it's drawn on." You whine at his tone, dark and low, as he urges you back and forth on his clothed thigh- your panties suddenly feeling uncomfortable. "Isn't it like that, baby?" He asks, and you nod, furiously, and he chuckles. "Hm, you seem out of breath baby.." He grins at you, like a predator.

"Jungkook.." You whine, not knowing what you're asking for.

He wordlessly moves, helping you lay down on his bed before he crawls over you, his lips instantly attached to the skin of your neck, hands helping you out of your dress wordlessly, as he can't help but let his gaze linger on your body for a moment. "I can't believe that-" He says, pulling off your overknee socks. "-you'd ever think of yourself anything less than perfect." He says, placing a gentle kiss to the colorful image now forever placed under your skin by his skilled hands. He continues to display his affection over your skin, wandering over your stomach up to your chest, where he playfully bites just above your breast. He struggles with the front of your bra for a second, unsure how to open the undergarment without breaking it, as you help a little; letting them spring free. But only for a moment.

Because in the next, he's got them in his hands, palms gently moving over them, feeling their softness as he groans. "You're so sweet." he comments, as he finally kisses your lips, smile interrupting him every now and then. "So soft." Another kiss. "So delicate." Another one. "And all mine, yeah?" He asks, and you nod, smiling as he grins back, the expression making him look so young and carefree you can't help but wonder how anyone could ever think he's a bad man.

He's anything but.

He's so careful touching you, so delicate in moving his palms over your skin, as if its the most divine thing he's ever felt. He's still smiling, as if in a trance, while he can't stop kissing you. Your hands move into his hair- way softer than you thought it would be, and he groans into your mouth at the feeling of your fingers running over his scalp.

There's no urgency in anything he does.

He slowly moves again, hands opening your legs for him as he sits back on his heels, playfully pulling you closer by the backs of your knees, making you giggle. "You sound so sweet baby." He tells you, innocently, as if he's not currently placing his hand onto your center, ring finger collecting your already leaking wetness before he spreads it, moving his thumb over your most sensitive bundle of nerves while his ring finger enters you slowly. You whine at the feeling, not enough to get you as riled up as you'd like to be. Also; this is the first time you're genuinely experiencing foreplay. You don't know what to do- and Jungkook seems to pick up on that. "You good?" He asks, and you nod.

"I.." You say, breathless as he tilts his head, smile still present on his lips. "What should I do?" You ask, as his eyes widen.

"You?" He wonders, before he stops for a moment. "Don't tell me- this is your first time?" He asks, now genuinely worried he might've gone too fast.

"No.." You admit. "But uhm.. no one's ever, like.. you know, what you're doing.." You say, and that's when it clicks for him.

What kind of guys did you date before him that never gave you any attention like this? He's upset by it, but also weirdly cheered on by that simple fact; it gives him even more reason to make sure you'll get the most out of it. "Ah, I see.." He humms out, letting another finger stretch your entrance for him. "..well, I'm not like that." He explains, before he moves, face now close to your center- and you're unsure what he's going to do. "Trust me." He says, mumbles out, before his tongue places itself flat onto your clit, licking painfully slow as you move your hands over your mouth, trying to keep your noises in. "nuh-uh baby." He scolds, free hand pulling yours away. "Let me hear you." He demands, before he places his mouth back where it was.

Your mind is completely blank at this moment, the only thing you can really concentrate on being Jungkook, working you up so quickly you feel dizzy. It's new, and it's a little weird- but it's more than anything you've ever experienced before. And it brings you towards your end so suddenly you suddenly gasp out, back arching off the mattress as you grab at the sheets below, one hand grasping for Jungkooks, who lets you ride out your high to its fullest. "So pretty." He comments after wiping his mouth with the back of his hand, smiling at your blissed out state.

"Kook-" You say, moving as you sit up, less shy now that your brain is still clouded by pleasure.

"Ah- you don't have to." He tells you, but you shake your head, and he lets you. He slips out of his clothes, finally bare, and you would've taken time to look at all the different pieces of art decorating his body- if it wasn't for his cock, red and ready in front of you. Usually, you would've let your insecurities and doubts get the best of you. But this was Jungkook. And you wanted to really believe that nothing you would do could ever be judged by him. So there was no hesitation as your hands reached out for him, gently moving, before you took him in, your lips wrapping themselves around his tip, before you moved downwards, fitting as much as you comfortably could. Meanwhile, Jungkook himself was steadying himself with one hand on the mattress, while the other was buried into your hair, his own head thrown back as he closed his eyes.

Of course he had fantasized about this every now and then; but he had never thought you'd actually be comfortable doing it. And even if- nothing he could've imagined would've ever compared to the real deal happening. There was something absolutely mindblowing about the way that you handled him, your sweet and pretty presence looking so divine doing such a sinful act with him. He had to pull you off by your hair, gently, because any more, and he would've been a goner. "G-Good god baby." He chuckles, pushing you a bit so you were on your back again, reaching for his bedside table to search for a condom. "I swear to god if I- HAH!" He tells you in victory, hands making quick work of opening the foil package and wrapping the safety over his length. "I swear I would've run out butt naked to buy one if I wouldn't have found this." He says with a grin, making you laugh.

"That's weird." You comment, and he chuckles, entering you slowly as to not hurt you, his breathing labored as he still kept the lighthearted energy going.

"You think?" He asks, and you nod, giggling as your eyes close, the feeling of him filling you up too good to keep them open. "Hm no." He said breathlessly. "Would've probably put on some pants maybe." He says, before he starts thrusting. "Doesn't matter if it means I'd get to fuck you." He says, and you giggle again.

"Kook!" You scold him, and he still continues to thrust into you, exhaling forcefully as he kisses your neck.

"What?" He whines high pitched as if to imitate you.

"Be serious!" You tell him, but can't help your own smile either.

"Oh, why though?" He says. "We're making love, not war baby." He whispers into your ear, and you still laugh at it.

"I can't believe you!" You complain playfully, moaning out when he suddenly thrusts with more force, obscene noises now interrupting you two as he picks up his pace, clenching his jaw.

"And-" He starts. "I can't believe how fucking good you feel." He presses out, hand now reaching between the two of you as he brings you towards an earth-shattering orgasm, making you mewl as you can feel yourself bursting. "Good girl!" He praises, watching as you squirt all over him, his own orgasm hitting him soon after as he grunts out, finally slowing down until he stills completely, his mouth attached to your neck to place gentle kisses and teasing bites near your pulse point.

"I love you." He mumbles out, and your eyes sting.

Because yeah, you love him- you absolutely do, but hearing it from him, hearing it in such an honest and warm-hearted tone, having this final proof of his own feelings towards you, makes you emotional. "Baby, why're you crying?" He chuckles out of breath, wiping your tears as you smile, and finally look at him with glossy eyes.

"Cause I love you too." You say. "So much."

And he can't help but grin at you.

You really are the sweetest thing.

You watch as Hana walks out of Taehyungs studio, arm wrapped up in clear foil as she walks towards your counter, pulling out her purse. "Taehyung agreed on 345." She says, until Taehyung yells another number out of his studio, making her eyes roll. She wasn't supposed to come back- but Taehyung had agreed to finish her piece at least. "Alright, here you go." She says, watching as you counted the money. "Does Jungkook work today?" She asks, and you nod. "I'm just gonna go say hi then. You can finish the receipt yeah?" She says overly sweet, and you're about to tell her that Jungkook doesn't want anyone entering without his permission, but he's already walking out his studio, black sweater and silver necklaces on full display as he walks towards you. "Jungkookie!" Hana exclaims, but her face drops almost chomically as she watches Jungkook walk up behind you, placing a kiss on your bare shoulder as he looks over it onto your screen.

"Oh, looks like I'm done for the day. You need anything Hana?" He asks innocently, one hand on your desk while the other rests on your chair behind your back.

"I- just wanted to apologize for uhm.. the emails. I didn't know you'd read them." She says, and you slowly close all programs, while Jungkooks humms out something.

"Yeah, I figured." He says, before he shakes his head. "As I said, I'm letting it go. No hard feelings." He says, shrugging, before he walks towards his studio again, stopping in his tracks for a second. "Ah, baby, can you text Jin-Hyung and ask him if we can come now? I'm actually starving I swear." He says, and you nod with red cheeks, pulling out your phone.

"Huh." Comes from Hana, as she takes the receipt from you. "I honestly.. would've never thought." She mumbles, before she simply leaves, without any more words.

Yeah. You would've honestly never thought either.

(c)Bonny-Kookoo. Please consider supporting me on Ko-Fi.com/bonnykookoo. Thank you for reading.

#bts imagine #bts #bts fanfic #jungkook imagine #bts fic #bts smut #bts jungkook #jeon jungkook #jungkook #bts reactions

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neonacity · 3 years

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LUCID | NCT DREAM ‘00 LINE X READER | CH.6

LUCID DREAMS - A TYPE OF DREAM WHEREIN THE PERSON IS AWARE THAT THEY ARE CAUGHT IN A DREAM WORLD.

Summary: It was supposed to be a harmless, professional transaction. You were to tutor a group of boys, get your pay at the end of the day, and go home to your loving fiance. Kids aren’t supposed to be dangerous, right? So why, then, are you caught up in a web of madness that slowly makes you feel like you’re in a living nightmare?

NOTE:This is a yandere plot featuring NCT Dream ‘00 line which means there will be mature themes in the story as well as obsessive, toxic behavior. If you’re a minor, please refrain from interacting. If this isn’t your thing, then just scroll and skip. In no way am I condoning anything written here— this is not love, this is obsession—nor do I think that any of the people mentioned here will act any way like in this story. This is purely a work of fiction.

Genre: yandere, horror, suspense

TW: abuse, obsessive behavior, toxic relationships, suggestive scenes, stalking, possible kidnapping, mental health. Age gap–though nothing dramatic. Everyone is of legal age, drugs, slight smut for this chapter but nothing graphic, questionable consent (?) I guess? Creepy, creepy, creepy! This will be updated as the story goes along.

CHAPTER 1 | CHAPTER 2 | CHAPTER 3 | CHAPTER 4 | CHAPTER 5

“EVERYONE HAS A DARKER NATURE. EVERYONE. GOOD MEN FEAR IT, AND EVIL MEN EMBRACE IT.” - JAMES ISLINGTON

The silent hum of the air conditioning filled the space like a foreboding chant. Nothing else but the sound of the hospital machinery and random noises outside pierced the stillness of the room as you stared, unseeing, at the green and orange numbers that blinked on the monitor above the bed.

You barely have any recollection of how you managed to find yourself in the hospital, but you do remember brief memories of Taeyong picking you up from the floor you found yourself crumpled on after you got the call. You remember seeing Jaehyun's parents at a brightly lit corridor and his mother pulling you into a hug as she broke down and his father telling you how his son hasn't woken up since he was brought to the emergency room.

You remember your heart breaking in shock, mind too numb from the godforsaken pills you have been taking and your own injury. So many times you wondered to yourself if you were still caught in one of your nightmares, but every time you tried to break free from it, you're slapped back with the reality of how all of this is real.

Your fingers gently tightened on Jaehyun's hands now as your gaze landed on his face. He looked so peaceful, like he's just sleeping, that you almost wanted to bend over and try to kiss him awake. You don't even have any idea what time and day it is already, but you have barely left his side since you were brought to him. The nightmares and sleeplessness? They're barely a problem for you anymore because right now, you're entirely not resting at all unless your body forces you to crash from physical exhaustion. Even then, you usually only sleep for about two to three hours at best to make sure that you never miss a moment with your fiance.

"Severe traumatic head injury. He was lucky enough that the airbag shielded him from the worst of the impact."

The words of his attending doctor echoed in your head again like a faraway voice. You could only remember bits and pieces of what he said to his parents back then as he reported his findings, but you caught enough context for you to draw a picture of the situation. You remember Jaehyun's mother asking the chances of her son waking up again, her voice barely holding up from her emotions.

"I cannot promise anything, Ma'm. I'd say he has a 60 percent chance. He's fighting."

And he is. You know Jaehyun inside out. He might be unconscious now, but there is no way he is giving up. Not from something like this.

"Keep fighting baby…" you whispered in the stillness of the room as you lifted his hand gently to your lips to kiss. "I'll wait for you. We still have a wedding to do."

The slight creaking of the door barely made you look away from his sleeping face. You only did at the gentle sound of a throat clearing, your eyes slightly widening as you recognized the man who just walked inside the room. Taeil had the same mildly shocked look on him as he stopped on the other side of the bed across from you.

"You…"

"Are you a relative of the patient?" He asked now as he tucked his clipboard under his arm. You simply nodded, watching him quickly glance at the numbers on the monitor before his eyes settled on you again.

"I'm his fiancee."

That made him raise his brows slightly. He pulled a pen now from the pocket of his coat to quickly write something on his file. "What a coincidence. Not a good one obviously. I'm sorry to hear about him. Mr. Jung, right?"

You swallowed. You didn't want to acknowledge anything that he just said so you tried to divert the conversation instead.

"You're not his doctor. Why are you…"

"Oh. He was turned over to me today. I am one of the resident neurologists here but he had to be moved to me because his first doctor has too much in his plate already. Don't worry, I was briefed properly about his case."

Your gaze followed Taeil as he bent over to check Jaehyun's oxygen level as well as the other wires attached to him. You don't know what to feel about him taking over, but at least you already know him previously.

"Are there any changes? Positive ones?" You asked in a frail voice that Taeil definitely didn't miss. You told yourself to not act silly and ask questions that probably do not have answers yet, but you couldn't help yourself now. The man seemed to think over his words first, noticing your state, before calmly giving his reply.

"No particular ones, but the fact that there are no negative developments is… something. I will have to request for some tests to be done on him again tomorrow so we can see if there are positive changes in his brain."

Neutral. Not good, but at least it's not bad either.

"How are you? I was about to check on you again. Is your head okay?"

You were still thinking over his words that you barely caught his question. Looking up, you tried to scramble for an answer to give. To be honest, you haven't given proper attention to your own injury since this happened. You would even only remember to take your medications on your clearest, less anxious moments, which, honestly, isn’t a lot.

"I'm uh… the wound has closed. But the headaches. They're still there."

He simply nodded. "Any other side effects?"

You didn't immediately answer. You didn't want to sound whiny, but it's not like you're going to lose anything by telling him the uglier parts of your recovery. You swallowed to try and dislodge the slight blockage in your throat.

"Nightmares…" you said now, voice soft. You briefly remembered the last one you had back in the manor before you woke up to the bad news and you felt your stomach turn again. "Lots of them. Hallucinations sometimes…"

The doctor watched you carefully and you know he is trying to compute things in his mind despite his face remaining calm.

"Have you been keeping to your schedule with your medications? Are you taking too much?"

You firmly shook your head no to his last question.

"No, I haven't been overdosing. But… I've been skipping my pills the last few days because of...because of this."

"How have you been feeling since you started missing your dosages then? Do you remember?"

That made you actually stop and think about it for a moment. Now that you are paying attention, you did notice how the nightmares have calmed down slightly. Even the hallucinations are almost gone. You frowned slightly to yourself.

"A bit… better actually."

Taeil took his time to observe you a bit more before writing something on a new page of his clipboard.

"You must have had severe reactions to the mixture of pills I gave you. I'm going to prescribe you new ones and ask the nurses to pick them up and bring them to you here. Can you promise that you'll try and take them though? You really need them to fully heal."

You nodded and gave him a slightly sheepish look.

"I will, thank you very much."

Taeil dug his hands into the pockets of his coat and gave you a gentle smile.

"Well, that's it for today. I'll come back tomorrow to give you updates about Mr. Jung." He had already turned and started walking away when he suddenly stopped to look at you again.

"Oh, and another thing. Please try and get some sleep. Recover… and then focus on helping your fiance."

******* You didn't really know what woke you up. Stirring from your sleep, the first thing that registered to you was the sound of distant traffic mixed with the gentle chirping of the morning birds from outside the window. A warm feeling radiated on your cheek and made the back of your eyelids glow red.

You flickered your eyes open and immediately rolled away to escape the ray of sunshine that slipped from the open curtains and shone directly at your face. You easily evaded it as you moved over to the other side of the bed which was empty and cold from the night before.

That was when you finally remembered that you were back in your home, in the same bedroom you share with Jaehyun. The day before, his mother offered to take the responsibility of watching over him so there was a sudden change of plans that finally gave you the reason to check back into your apartment after so long. If it were you, you would have preferred not leaving your boyfriend’s side until he wakes up, but you also knew that your future mother-in-law wanted to spend time with him so you relented.

Of course you weren't thrilled to be home alone, especially with Jaehyun not being there, but the comfort that a real mattress provided—over the small couch you used to sleep in back at the hospital—is definitely a welcome change for your body. You even tried to take your medicine properly, the new ones that Taeil had provided, in the hopes of getting knocked down fast. Your adrenaline and anxiety had been fueling you in the past days, but you know from the way your heart thumped and your hands shook that you need a solid rest.

And you got it. You still feel a little groggy now but your body is definitely lighter and your head clearer. The nightmares didn't even come, and while they were replaced by total darkness or dreams in white that still made you anxious, you are willing to take those anytime over the graphic ones that you used to have.

You gently sat back against the headrest of the bed now and reached out for your phone to check the time. It's barely 7AM but as expected, Jaehyun's mom has already provided you with updates from the hospital. He’ll have some tests taken today as Taeil advised and then they’ll hear more about his progress. From the looks of it, she seems still set on watching over her son, which means you still have at least today free to yourself.

You quickly typed a reply to her and sighed. You’re thankful that even though you weren’t related by blood, his parents have always treated you as if you were their own. Having a family is not something you’ve really experienced in your childhood, so that’s something you’ve always appreciated about them. That is also the reason why you wish for the best out of this situation, because you also couldn’t bear seeing your fiance’s mother and father heartbroken. He’s their only son, after all.

A quick look around your room left you feeling empty. The last week has been so hard that it felt longer and now you’re struggling to find your normal pace again. In an effort to bring yourself to focus, you decided to pick up your phone once more and started flipping through your calendar to check your schedule. It didn’t take long for you to frown when you realized the upcoming dates there. You’ve plotted important academic schedules in advance and one quick look at it told you how much you’ve obviously missed in the past week. You’ve been so lost in the mess of everything that has happened that you’ve entirely forgotten about your job at the manor. You realized that they didn’t even call you once to ask about your absence, probably because they also know about the situation, but even that is not enough excuse for you to entirely fall off the radar.

Biting your lip, you quickly scrolled through your contacts now to look for the number you need. Your thumb hovered over the call button momentarily, but you eventually pressed it anyway. Your eyes wandered towards the clock on the wall, hoping silently to yourself that it wasn’t too early for you to call.

“Rosewood Manor, how can I help you?”

You straightened on your seat.

“Hey, Taeyong. It’s me. Sorry if I called so early.”

The other boy seemed to have been taken slightly by surprise by the way he fell silent at the other end of the line. You tapped your finger against your knee, waiting for him to speak again.

“Hi. No, it’s fine. Work started for me about an hour ago. Are you okay? How’s things on your end?”

You nibbled guiltily on your lower lip and finally got off your bed to walk over to the window. You pushed the curtains open and stared at the slight snowfall that had started falling on the ground. You’ve missed so many days of reporting to them but the first thing he does is to check if you’re fine.

“I um—things are still the same. My boyfriend’s still at the hospital.”

“Oh… I’m so sorry to hear that.”

“Look, I want to apologize. I haven’t really reported to work and I didn’t even call about it. It’s just that—things have been so crazy lately, but still that isn’t an excuse for me to just not show up.”

Taeyong, however, was understanding as always. You were about to go off for another round of apologies when he gently cut you off.

“Hey, it’s fine. We know you’ve been dealing with a lot lately so we also weren't expecting anything. Don’t worry too much about it.”

“But, the boys’ examinations and portfolio review is happening in three days and I haven’t really checked in with them. How are they doing now?”

“Oh...that. Well, we actually tried looking for a temporary tutor to help out but I...uh… I think he isn't really cutting it. Maybe because he isn’t the one who started the program with them. But he’s a big help still.”

“Oh god, I’m so sorry about that. I should have at least—look, I can drop by today and just try to fix things.”

“Are you sure? You really don’t have to. Don’t you need to be at the hospital?”

You started going around your room now, trying to gather the scattered papers and files that you’ll need. It’s a good thing you woke up early so you still have time to prepare for work. “My boyfriend’s mother is the one watching over him today so I have the day off.”

“And your injury? How is it?”

Your eyes landed on the new bottles of medicine sitting on your bedside table.

“Better. I’m feeling so much better.”

You heard Taeyong sigh in relief over the phone. “Thank god. We were so worried about that. Well, you really don’t need to go, but if you have time, I guess doing it today won’t hurt. It will help us a lot.”

A small smile tugged at your lips now and you switched the phone over to your other ear as you started arranging your bag. “Thank you so much for being understanding. I need a distraction anyway. I’d rather work than stay home alone… Thanks for not firing me.”

That made him laugh a little. “I’ll tell the boys that you’re coming over. Oh, and be careful on your drive here. The roads are a little bit slippery today because of the snow.”

“I will, thank you. I’ll be there by 9.”

******* “Noona!”

You have barely finished arranging your materials on your desk when the door to the room burst open and ushered an anxious-looking Jisung inside. You looked up quickly at him, only barely catching Chenle wobbling with his crutch before your vision of the entrance was blocked by Jisung’s tall frame. His hair looked swept up as if he ran and there was a slight flush staining his cheeks. He stopped right in front of you, stopping just in time for him not to topple you over.

“Hey, Jisung how are—” You tried to give him a smile but he was quick enough to grab your hands between his.

“Are you back? Are you really back for real?” He pressed now, eyes wide as he tried to bend over to look closely at you. He looked like a puppy, the only missing thing being a wagging tail to complete the look. You couldn’t help the brief laugh that passed over you as you tried to calm him down.

“I am. For the day, yes. Sorry I missed so many of your sessions.”

“We thought you left us,” Jisung continued, his lower lip protruding just a bit. Just then, Chenle had finally reached the two of you, a slightly embarrassed look on his face. This is actually the first time you saw him again since the day the two of you had your accident and you’re glad to see him healthy despite his broken leg.

“Hi, Chenle. How are you?”

The boy scratched the back of his head and looked away slightly. “Fine… I’m sorry, noona. I wasn’t able to visit you when you stayed with us. I’m really really sorry about what happened in the forest.”

You tried to give him a reassuring smile and freed one of your hands from Jisung’s hold to ruffle his hair. The action seemed to have calmed him down a little because he finally looked at you again, a small apologetic smile on his own lips.

“Don’t worry about it. It’s not your fault. But be careful next time, okay?”

“Are you going to be our tutor again, noona?” Jisung pressed once more and you turned your attention back to him. To be honest, you’re still not sure how your schedule will turn out after this, but you couldn’t really bear to break the poor boy’s heart at the moment.

“Yes… I’m here to teach your big brothers today for their tests though. We’ll have to schedule you and Chenle’s lessons again. Is that alright?”

A brief look of disappointment flashed on his face but he was quick enough to pick it up. Jisung smiled and gave your hand a squeeze.

“Okay. We can wait. It’s good you are back, Jaemin-hyung was so—”

“Yah, don’t hog her by yourself. You’ll scare her away.”

A new voice made the three of you look back to the doorway. Haechan smiled at your little group as he strolled casually into the room followed by Jeno and Jaemin. The three of them joined your crowd and you felt Jisung finally let go of your hand as he stepped away to go over to his brothers’ side.

“Hi. Sorry, I only returned now. Taeyong told me that you—”

You weren’t able to finish what you wanted to say as Haechan gently stopped you mid-sentence. He leaned his head to the side, eyes briefly scanning you from head to toe. Unlike Jisung, he looked calm and only barely excited.

“It’s fine. We knew you’ll come back. How are you?”

“Oh… I’m good. My head is better. I haven’t had the chance to thank all of you for taking care of me when I was here.”

“How about your boyfriend?” It was Jeno who asked this time and you quickly turned to him to address his question. Your eyes briefly slipped to Jaemin who was standing behind him before you could even speak though, and for a moment you had the impression that Jeno was shielding him—or blocking him from you. You blinked a little bit in confusion, wondering if it was just your imagination that was making you think that way.

“He’s still… still unconscious,” your smile dropped a little but you tried your best to keep your voice casual. “We’re getting more tests for him. His doctor said that he isn’t showing bad signs at least.”

“I’m so sorry to hear about him,” Haechan said with compassion and you gave him a grateful look. Your gaze settled on Jaemin again, however, who for some reason had barely looked at you since he came into the room. You know that he can be quiet and reserved at times, but there is something in the air around him that makes you slightly worried. He’s so still, but the way he carries himself makes it seem like he’s so strung up at the same time. It also doesn’t help that Jeno seems to be almost pushing him back from view.

“Hi Jaemin… How are you?” You tried to gently ask him to make sure that he is okay. He didn’t look at you at first, but when he finally did, you felt yourself freeze a little. His eyes looked dark and almost emotionless when he met yours and there were shadows under them as if he hadn't slept properly for days. He didn’t even answer and just simply stared, his gaze blank and accusing at the same time.

Haechan casually glanced over his brother and chuckled. “Our Jaeminie here has been sick for the past couple of days so he’s a little out of it. But he’s going to be fine now,” he put a hand over the other’s shoulder and gave it a slight squeeze as if to calm him down. “Right, Jaemin? We’ll try our best to go to class today since noona is finally back, hmm?”

Jaemin, however, didn’t even seem to hear him. He continued staring at you the same way that kept you pinned on your spot.

“Are you leaving again?” he finally asked and you almost felt goosebumps rise on your skin. It didn’t sound like a question… but more of a threat. You swallowed.

“I’m going to have to arrange my schedule till things get better…” you answered carefully, as if you’re navigating dark waters. That didn’t seem to cut it for him, unfortunately.

“So you’re not leaving. Forever?”

You blinked. To be honest, you’ve been thinking of quitting and just finishing the rest of the month if things didn’t improve, but you don’t think that’s the right answer to give at the moment.

“No… not for now,” you finally managed to say. You watched as Jaemin seemed to visibly relax, his stiff shoulders loosening under Haechan’s grip. He didn’t say anything after that, but he at least looked away, seemingly more satisfied with your words.

“Great. I think we should get to work,” Haechan broke the silence and looked around the room as if the tension you were feeling was just something only you could feel. He nodded towards Chenle and Jisung then. “You guys go back to your own classes. You’ll have your share of noona once it’s your turn.” He then glanced at you, smile still in place. “Should we start then?”

You nodded. “Is Renjun still not back?”

“Not yet. He’s going to be here tomorrow though,” Jeno answered as he took his seat on one of the desks.

“I see…”

Haechan also found his spot, but not before you’ve noticed him urging Jaemin to do the same. Playfully, he took the pencil you’ve arranged on the desk and started tapping it against the wood of the table.

“Don’t worry. We’ll tell him you’re back. I’m sure he can’t wait to have his lessons again~”

******* You looked over the window for the third time in the last fifteen minutes and sighed. The day had been busy with you trying to catch up on the boys’ lessons that you barely even noticed the state of the weather outside. When you finally did, it took you by surprise when you saw how much of the ground was covered by snow—one look at it told you that it is at least a feet deep by now. Your first instinct was to try and maneuver your car out of the lot before your tires get entirely buried in it, but then you remembered that you promised to wait for Taeyong to come back before leaving the manor. The butler requested for you to temporarily watch over the manor while he tries to do some last minute errands back in the city, but it’s been two hours since he originally promised to come back. You eyes glanced at your watch now, then back at the quickly darkening view outside.

“...severe snowstorm has blocked some of the main roads in the city at the moment. Expect heavy traffic and don’t forget to drive safely.”

You turned to the television now to catch the last of the rambling dialogue of the reporter about the weather. You’ve been debating on whether to call Taeyong or not to check on him, but you didn’t want to seem impatient to go home when you only really wanted to make sure if he’s safe. From the looks of it, he’s stuck somewhere because of the hale, too.

You were on your way to get your phone from your bag to at least try to shoot him a message when you suddenly heard it ring. Getting it just in time, you almost sighed in relief when you saw his number there. You quickly took it and went over to the window to answer it to make sure you get some proper signal.

“Hello? Taeyong?”

“Hey. Finally. I’ve been trying to call you for the last hour, thank god it finally connected.”

“Oh, sorry, my phone’s in my bag. I think the signal’s getting bad because of the snowstorm. Where are you? Are you okay?”

“Yeah, about that, I’m still stuck in town. The traffic’s so bad here because a section of the main road is blocked. Road maintenance is supposed to come thirty minutes ago but I think there’s a delay because there are other roads they are working on.”

Your gaze drifted back to the television where scenes of the same blocked avenues were being flashed. “Yeah… the news says the same. Are you safe though?”

“I am. I’m really sorry for making you wait. I’d tell you to drive back and not wait for me anymore but I don’t think you’ll also make it home in time with all this traffic going on. I don’t think it’s going to be safe. Do you mind waiting for a little bit more? I’ll tell you once the roads are better.”

You thought it over quickly, a frown settling on your face. You really want to go home, but he’s right. There’s no point in trying to drive back if you’ll only find yourself stuck in the roads for hours. Not being a big fan of night driving yourself, you can already imagine the stress waiting for you if you add a snowstorm to the mix. As much as you wanted to leave, you’re left with no choice, at least for the moment.

“I can… I’ll just wait for you, I guess. Do you want me to do anything here while you’re gone? Dinner for the boys?”

“Oh no, no, you don’t need to do that, that’s not part of your job,” Taeyong sounded abashed when he said that. You stepped away from the window then and took a seat by the fireplace that Jeno started earlier. Half of your concentration was on the news which has now shifted to a different set of reports also caused by the snowstorm. “They’ll know when to go down and eat. Don’t worry about them. Where are they right now?”

“Ah, I think they went back to their rooms? I did tell them earlier that I’ll try to wait for you.”

“I see. Yes, I think that’s better. Don’t worry, I’ll keep you updated. If things don’t get better, I think I’ll have no other choice but find a hostel here and wait for the weather to calm down. You can stay there and just ask for help from any of them. You can stay in the same room just in case.”

You didn’t quickly react to the offer. Instead, your eyes flickered to the doorway of the room before refocusing your attention back to the conversation. It’s not like you have anything against spending the night again at the manor—you’ve done it before, after all—but it’s honestly not really something you’re comfortable to do again. Maybe it’s because you’ve never really been okay with overstaying at strangers’ houses but your gut feel is also telling you right now that it shouldn’t be your top option regardless of the situation you are in.

Still, you didn’t want to come off rude to Taeyong, not when he is only being kind to offer you temporary shelter while being stuck in the middle of nowhere himself. So instead, you went against your initial doubts and offered him your thanks in return. It’s just Plan B that he’s proposing after all.

“I will. Keep me updated though if you need anything you think I can help with.”

“Thank you and I will. I have to go now though. Please make yourself at home. I’ll try to call again after an hour.”

“Okay. Take care.”

You put your phone down now with a worried frown as you heard the line drop. You couldn’t believe this is happening the first day you got back to work but it’s not like you can really blame anyone for it. The only good thing is that you’re sure Jaehyun is being taken care of right now so that is at least one thing off your shoulders. You didn’t really need to rush anywhere, not especially to a vacant home. Leaning back against your seat, you tried your best to relax as your gaze travelled around the room once again. You deliberated on sending a text to your mother-in-law to tell her about your situation but decided against it, not wanting to worry her more. You sighed. For now, you guess you didn’t have any other choice but to wait.

You did try to distract yourself by watching the news for a few more minutes before finally giving up on it. With resignation, you picked yourself up from your seat again and turned the television off. For a moment you simply stood in the middle of the room, trying to figure out what to do with your time when your gaze settled on the door again. Everyone retreated to their own rooms after they finished with their lessons so it means the house is pretty much yours for exploring if you wanted to. You toyed with the idea for a little bit, before finally resigning yourself to it. It’s not like there really is anything else left for you to do, and Taeyong did say you can make yourself feel at home if you wanted to. With a sigh, you finally turned on your heels to leave the room and peered silently into the hallway. It was deserted as expected, but still your eyes travelled left and right to check if there’s anyone out and about at this hour. It was only after you made sure that you were alone when you finally allowed yourself to step into the corridor.

Of course, you have a plan. You’re pretty much sure that checking out the rooms on the first floor is acceptable since it’s where you’ve been rotating your classes so you’re going to stick to those areas. You remember finding a library there once and you focused on finding your way to it to maybe check out some of the books in the collection.

It did take you about five minutes to finally find the place you were looking for. For some reason, the sections in the manor always confuse you no matter how many times you try to memorize each one, probably because of how big and similar-looking they are on the outside. You’ve already tried four doors when you were finally welcomed by the familiar-looking bookshelves at the fifth one. You sighed and gave one quick look around the room before slipping yourself inside after making sure that you’re alone.

There will probably never be a time when you won’t find yourself fascinated by anything in this grand home. If the architecture of the mansion is not enough to convince anyone how rich the family is, their book collection is enough to assure that at the very least. You’ve only ever taken a quick glimpse of it once during one of your lessons with the boys, but one look of the titles in their shelves is enough to make any literature major excited. You looked at the floor to ceiling collection now, your fingers gently running over the spines of the books you could reach with a small smile on your face.

You were about to check out the rest of the collection on the other side of the wall when something in the middle of the room caught your attention. You didn’t really catch it at first because of the shadows that concealed it when you first came in, but you could pretty much discern the outline of a blanket covered standee now from where you stood. You frowned. Taking careful steps, you closed the distance towards it to try and figure out what exactly it is that you’re seeing.

A closer look revealed it to be an easel covered with white cloth. You could see the outline of the canvas where the blanket falls over it while shadows of colors peeked out into the thin fabric from the surface it was covering. How odd… you knew that Renjun had a different art room for his paintings so to see this now here in the middle of the library seems uncanny.

You didn’t know how long you remained standing in front of it, too. You know you should have walked away—after all, the white cloth hiding it away from plain view means whatever is on that canvas is not meant for everyone’s eyes to see, but you simply couldn’t tear yourself away from it. It’s as if there was a silent force asking you to pull that cloth to reveal what’s underneath, the inclination so strong that you could almost hear its voice breathing down next to your ear, unrelenting until you do what it says.

The next thing you know, you had your hand attached to one end of the fabric. You stared at it now, wondering last minute if you should go ahead or not. You swallowed and glanced around one last time around the room. If you’re alone… it wouldn’t hurt if you could take a peek, right? Nobody will know. You just have to see, then cover it back again. Before you could even think about it too much, your arm was finally moving on its own as it gently tugged at the covering. You watched as it fell gently on the floor, like a bodiless ghost melting into the shadows on the ground.

Your eyes couldn’t make out what you were seeing at first. The dim lighting of the room wasn’t helping at all, but you were sure that it was a woman’s silhouette that was staring back at you from the canvas. Colors swirled around her, like some unknown mass trying to drag her back into unknown depths. Shapes and tones jumped from the picture, but her form stood out from the rest, gracefully twisted as if she was in the middle of trying to fight and succumb to it at the same time. You frowned. Taking a step closer towards it, you tried to study its details under what little illumination the lamps above afforded you.

That’s when it all happened simultaneously. Your heart stopped beating the same time your eyes widened as they finally focused on what’s in front of them. It’s as if the ground suddenly vanished from underneath your feet and you were falling, falling, deep into the abyss despite your body being frozen in fear and shock.

You know this painting. You’ve seen it before. It was the same one by Renjun, the one that you saw on your first day working in the manor.

But it was different now. Instead of the unfinished state that caught your attention before, everything about the picture now is in sharp focus. The lines on the woman’s nude body, the hands—which you thought were simply dark swirls dragging her back—and her face twisted beautifully in pleasure and madness stared back at you like a nightmare.

But it was not those which truly shook you to your core. It’s the realization that it was your own face in the portrait that was staring back at you, silently screaming for you to run away.

You stumbled back in shock. Your chest felt tight as you tried to grasp for air while your hands fumbled to find something to hold on to keep you from crashing on the ground. Before you could even take another step, however, something hard hit your back and you felt strong arms wrap around your waist like a vice. You have barely realized what was happening when you felt someone lean over your shoulder, lips pressing against the shell of your ear.

“Isn’t it beautiful? You’re the perfect muse, don’t you think?” Renjun asked softly as he pressed a gentle kiss to your temple.

******* You didn’t know how long you stayed frozen in his embrace. For a brief moment you thought you were dreaming again until you felt his arms slowly tighten around your waist. As if a jolt of electricity shocked you, you immediately turned to push him away as you scrambled to put some distance between the two of you.

Renjun didn’t seem the least bothered when your eyes finally focused on him. He remained on his spot, his gaze on you unwavering. You, meanwhile, were shaking from head to toe, the vision of the painting still branded vividly in your head.

“Renjun—what’s this?” you managed to stutter as you pointed at the artwork in the middle of the room. You couldn’t even spare to look at it again while he merely gave it a casual glance.

“It’s you. I’ve been working on it for a long time. I was about to show it to you but it seems like you couldn’t wait for it yourself.”

You felt nauseous. A part of your rational mind was slowly losing it as you tried to process his answer. Something's not right. Something is so terribly wrong.

“Why—why did you do this?”

Renjun simply stared at you and leaned his head a little bit to the side as if he was only mildly curious of your reaction. Your stomach turned even before hearing his answer.

“You said it’s beautiful.”

“This is not right—!”

“I came home because they said you were leaving for good,” he continued speaking softly, effectively cutting you from what you were about to say. The hairs on the back of your neck stood on end and you took another step back as you watched him get close to his artwork. You watched in horror as his thin fingers lovingly ran over the corners of the canvas. “Jaemin almost lost it… It’s a good thing I got here on time.”

And just like that, everything seemed to have clicked into place. The glances, the touches, the words that seemed to have a different undercurrent under them… they weren’t just fragments of your imagination. Every little thing that has gnawed at you from the inside came into crystal clear focus and you felt your knees go weak from the weight of it all. It took every fiber of your being to try and keep yourself steady now, your legs moving on their own as they took small backward steps away from the boy staring at you now with dead eyes. You couldn’t breathe, but it was the last words he told you that finally snapped you to run.

“I don’t think you’ve realized it yet. But no, you cannot leave. Ever.”

You didn’t know where you got the energy for it but in seconds you were flying out of that room and running blindly down the darkened corridors. Your blood pumped noisily in your ears and your chest felt like it was going to split from the sudden exertion you put on it, but you didn’t stop, not even looking back as you tried to put as much distance between you and the library. You didn’t even know where you were going. All you’re focused on is to find the exit and leave the house as soon as possible.

A loud bang that sounded off to your right startled you and you screamed, the force of your shock making you whip around and almost lose your balance. Before you could even hit the floor, however, a pair of hands caught you and you immediately turned, grasping at the chest of your rescuer.

You froze. Haechan smiled down at you as he tried to steady you on your feet.

“Haechan,” you gasped as you took fistfuls of his shirt and tried to shake him in your panic. “Renjun—he’s—please, help me. He’s after me—” you gasped out, almost out of your wits. You’re on the verge of a total breakdown that it almost escaped you, the way he simply smiled down on your shaking form. It was only when you felt one of his hands gently caress the top of your head that reality slapped you in the face again. You suddenly stopped struggling in his hold, pupils shaking as you watched him study your features lovingly.

“Shh… it’s fine. I got you,” he whispered and you could swear ice pricked you from the inside. A slight movement to the right made you turn your head and you saw Jaemin lean casually against the banister of the stairs, his face serene. He gave you one quick look before a gentle smile finally lit up his features.

“Has it started?” he asked and you felt Haechan’s hold on you tighten.

“It has.”

You didn’t struggle. It was as if any trace of fight you had left you in that moment and you let your hands fall limply on your sides. Haechan also loosened his grip on you and you stared at the two boys blankly, your chest heaving as if fighting for air. They didn’t move from their spots and simply followed you with their eyes as if relishing the fear and realization flashing in your face.

Trapped.

You’re trapped.

You’ve always been.

You didn’t even realize that your legs had started moving again on their own as the pieces of the puzzle started to fall together in your mind. You were only shaken from it when your back finally hit the front door, the cold metal of the knob pressing against your spine. Jaemin and Haechan remained on their spots still, even as you blindly reached out for it from behind.

You were expecting it to be locked, so you were a little bit surprised when you felt it give way under your hand when you tried to turn it open. Just before you could even entertain the idea of escaping, however, any trace of hope you had quickly died as you turned and came face to face with Jeno standing right in front of the entrance. He didn’t look the least surprised seeing you there, as if he was waiting for you in the first place.

You eyes took in his calm countenance before slowly moving to stare downwards at what he was holding by his side. Your gaze locked on it in fear, and that’s when the flight response in you flared up again.

Jeno’s hunting rifle shone dully in the light of the entryway, his pale fingers wrapped on its handle.

“There’s really only one place you can run, noona, but I won’t advise it,” he said evenly and you felt your blood freeze in your veins.

“After all, no matter where you hide, I’ll still find you in that forest.”

It happened all at once. You broke into a run, your body screaming at you to go faster as you heard gunshots pierce the air.

---

CHAPTER 7

A/N: Good lord, I wasn’t expecting I’d finish this today but I got one large iced coffee and well... things happened. Anyway, enjoy! Let’s hope the format won’t mess up this time. T.T Finally, all hell broke loose~ <3

Tag list!

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#nct dream yandere au #nct dream yandere #nct dream yandere fic #jaemin x reader #jeno x reader #renjun x reader #haechan x reader #nct dream 00 line fic #nct dream 00 line x reader #nct horror au #nct dream yandere imagines #jaehyun x reader #yandere!nct dream #yandere!jaemin #yandere!jeno #yandere!renjun #yandere!haechan #nct-writers #yandere!nct dream 00 line

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dragon-kazansky · 3 years

Text

Shy smiles | Helmut Zemo

Requested by anon

Honestly, he was utterly in love with everything about you. You were so different to everyone else he knew. Much more shy. It was rather sweet actually.

It was obvious from the beginning. You found it hard to hold eye contact with him, became flustered when he approached you. He didn't push it though. Zemo was a gentleman, he wasn't going to put you into a situation you clearly weren't comfortable in. He introduced himself and let you be.

He could see you relax after he left. He smiled.

Zemo kept an eye on you. This job was going to require a lot meeting people and probably being shot at. The least he could do was make sure you didn't do anything you weren't happy doing.

You seemed to notice he was keeping an eye on you. He caught your shy glances, smirking everytime you saw him looking. You would turn away so quickly, looking embarrassed.

Though you were a little more comfortable in the company of Sam and Bucky, you still kept to yourself, and Zemo respected that.

When things got a bit rocky in Madripoor, Zemo came over to you.

"Stay close to me."

You nodded. You followed his lead, even followed him when he broke off from Sam and Bucky. That caught him by surprise. Still, he looked after you.

You weren't all that comfortable with going into Sharon's club. Zemo heard you tell Bucky you were staying behind. Out of ear shot, he pulled Bucky to the side.

"You go, I'll stay with Y/N."

Bucky was hesitant to allow that, but he also didn't want you to be alone here. He looked at the way Zemo was looking back at the apartment.

"Alright, but if you try anything, I'm punching you with my metal arm, got it?"

Zemo nodded, chuckling as he did. Bucky left him to join up with Sam. Zemo went back into the apartment.

You were sitting on the couch, legs tucked under you. You had a notepad out, doodling in it.

Zemo sat down in the empty space beside you. The movement startled you as you didn't see him come over. You assumed he had gone down to the party below.

"I apologise for scaring you."

You offered him a small smile. "It's fine."

"What are you drawing?" He nods at your book.

You hold it up so he can see what you were doing. The page was full of little doodles. A cartoon cat, a little flower, a little doodle of Bucky which made him chuckle.

"You're quite the little artist."

"Not really." You give a shrug and start doodling something else.

"You did quite well today."

You bite the inside of your cheek and glance very quickly at him.

"I just followed you."

"Still, you handled yourself quite well. I don't remember you from before, are you new to their group?"

"Kind of. I've known Sam a while. I kind of know who you are."

"Kind of?"

Zemo was beyond thrilled you were talking to him. You were focusing on your drawing, but at least you were talking to him.

"I heard about you. What you did."

"I see."

"I wasn't there when Sokovia fell. I saw it on the news. I'm sorry for your loss," you glanced at him again.

"Thank you."

He was still looking at you. You looked back down at your book again quickly. You moved your legs and got a bit more comfortable, shifting closer to Zemo, but not on purpose.

"Do you like it?" You showed him your book.

Zemo chuckles.

"Is that me?"

"Supposed to be."

A little cartoon Zemo, coat and all, was staring back at him. You were very good.

"I like it."

You smiled and put the book down. You took a deep breath, trying to summon some courage to look at him longer than 2 seconds. He was a very handsome man, you couldn't deny that. He made you feel a lot more shy than usual.

Having a crush on this man probably wasn't your wisest move, but you couldn't exactly take it back now.

You looked at him. He was still looking at you.

"You're really smart."

You cursed yourself for saying that. You felt so awkward and out of place. You really wanted to talk to him, but you just sounded silly.

"Thank you."

"I mean, it wasn't exactly cool what you did, splitting up the Avengers, but at the same time, you didn't even fight them, you got them to fight each other. That's insane!" You can't stop the words from tumbling out.

Zemo leans back against the sofa and smiles at you.

"You sound impressed."

"I kind of am, but also not."

"I don't blame you."

You bite your cheek again, wondering what else to say to him. You felt proud that you had managed to say most if that, but now you were in a predicament again.

Your could feel your heart racing.

It was as if, all of a sudden, you realised just how close you were to him now. You could smell his aftershave, hear his slight breaths, almost feel how close his hand was to your knee.

Your cheeks felt hot again. You looked down at your lap. You could feel his eyes on you again.

Damn it.

Did he know he was affecting you this way? Did the Baron know he was super handsome and was making you feel flustered?

You felt him tuck some hair behind your ear.

He chuckled softly.

"You're quite cute when you're shy."

You let out a small little noise. You're not sure if he heard it or not, but you definitely made a noise.

His fingers went from your ear to your cheek. The touch was soft. He wasn't wearing his gloves so you could feel the warmth of his skin. He was being so gentle with you.

You resist leaning into his touch. If anything, you're to embarrassed to do anything but turn away.

Your hear him chuckle.

Zemo drops his hand and shifts a little so he's more comfortable. You chance a glance. He looks a lot more relaxed now. His eyes are still on you. He was always looking at you.

Your poor heart couldn't handle that.

"I might... just go to bed." You stand up and gather your book. Zemo doesn't move. His eyes follow you as shuffle out of the room.

You hear him chuckle again before you leave.

Zemo remains sitting there, relaxed, feeling happy you spoke more than a few words to him. He wasn't blind, he knew exactly what effect he had over you. He was flattered. You were sweet, lovely, talented. He would happily spoil you rotten if he could.

He heard shuffling. You had only been gone less than 10 minutes. He smiled.

You shuffled back into the room with a blanket. You seemed almost startled to see him, as if you didn't expect him to still be there.

"Are you coming in?" He asks.

"I uh..."

He waves you over. You walk slowly, eyes on him, but not on his face. You can't look into his eyes for long, even though you want to. You sit down next to him and drape the blanket over your legs.

"I thought you were going to bed."

"I was... but then you would be alone," you mutter, hoping he wouldn't actually hear you.

He did.

He smiles. One arm drapes around the back of the sofa where you're sitting. Though he's not touching you, you can feel the presence of his hand hanging near your head.

You're trying so hard not to touch him.

"I don't mind the company," he says, speaking so softly.

You relax a little.

The silence that settles is nice. You can't think of anything to say to him, and though you expected it to be awkward, it wasn't. All you can hear is his gentle breathing and the slight shuffle of his clothes when adjusts his seating position.

It becomes a little hard to keep your eyes open. Zemo can see you trying. He doesn't want you staying up for his sake. His arm lowers to drape around your shoulders and pull you into his side.

All of a sudden you're feeling wide awake. Your head is resting on his shoulder, his arm tucked around you. Your heart was going crazy, you wondered if he could hear it.

"Sleep."

You swallow thickly. How could you possibly sleep now?

Yet, you felt ever so comfortable against him. Zemo was being so nice to you, though this wasn't helping the silly little crush you had developed on the man. There was so much wrong with this scenario, but this would probably be the only chance you got to be like this with him. Closing your eyes, you tried your best to relax.

Zemo was over the moon when you finally fell asleep. This meant you trusted him, at least enough to keep you safe.

He closed his eyes.

That's how Sam and Bucky found you both when they came back later that night. You fast asleep against Zemo, who had also fallen asleep at some point. The sight was strange to say the least, and though Bucky wanted to move you, Sam told him to leave you.

Zemo wasn't going to do anything. Not to you. Especially since you've let him in. Sam knew this was s big deal, and he was proud, despite it being with Zemo, that you had reached out to another person.

An unlikely friendship indeed.

@ajeff855 @moonstuffsteve @sky-writes-stuff @lieutenantn @lostghostgirl94 @friday18eo @yaskna @my-blood-is-maple-syrup @gingerwriter97 @lunamooney2406

#zemo #helmut zemo #helmut zemo x reader #zemo x reader #baron zemo #baron helmut zemo #marvel #tfatws #the falcon and the winter soldier

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