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soobadnoonecanstopher · 9 months

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Can I Stay? (A Baekhyun Story) Part 1.

Pairing: You x Baekhyun

Rating: M

Word Count: 6.9k

Warnings: an unspecified age difference, this is an English story that uses the word Noona for lack of another word in English that carries the same feeling, if you don’t like this, then don’t read this story.

Author‘s note: remember all those years ago I said I’d write a Baekhyun x Noona fic? This is that fic.

Inspired by the Ray LaMontagne song Can I Stay

Links: Can I Stay: Part 1, Part 2, Part 3, Part 4, Part 5

Your new assistant was going to be a problem.

You clocked him as a problem before he walked through the doors of your office.

You spotted the danger a mile away the moment you saw the memo from the President of the company’s personal secretary advising you that a new member of your team would be starting today. A new member whose presence you’d never requested; who’s resume you’d never even seen, and whose last name was suspiciously identical to that company President’s whose Secretary was asking you — no, telling you to welcome your brand new, fresh out of college, probably fresh out of his dear mothers warm hugs and kisses embrace, with as much of a warm welcome as if you were welcoming the President himself.

Not only did you get thrust into your lap a most likely spoiled rotten nepotism baby, but now he was sitting across from your desk staring back at you with a bright beautiful smile of plenty of professionally straightened teeth and an even brighter happy go lucky personality that told you that this strapping young man had never known a day of struggle in his entire life — as short as that life had been so far.

An assistant should be younger than you anyway, right? You wouldn’t feel right bossing a homely old man around all day.

Did that young assistant have to be so very pretty though? Did he really have to be sitting there so damn moist and tender, looking at you with his head cocked to the side as if he had been jumping to as many conclusions about you as you had about him?

“I’m Byun Baekhyun. I like playing video games and working out. I can’t eat cucumber or spicy food. Please take care of me, Miss Manager Noona.” His words pulled his pink lips into a pout as he spoke and the sounds of his voice had just enough of a nasal whine that you wondered if he simply always got his way all of the time with everyone he knew.

You frowned and ticked your head back and forth at the name he called you. “Just Manager.” You corrected sternly and his wide smile dipped into a pronounced pout. The kind one might see on a little kid who’d just dropped his ice cream cone. You heard a nasal grunt of complaint come from the back of his throat and you hated how quickly that sound strummed a particular chord inside of your chest. You felt weirdly rebuked for the quick rebuttal and your lips dropped open almost against your will, “I mean, it’s just that…”

Just when you’d opened your mouth to speak he’d already moved on, “So what do I do here, Miss Manager…?” His words out loud stopped at the word Manager but you caught the movement of his lips as he silently mouthed the forbidden word ‘Noona.’ Clearly thinking he’d gotten away with something, his bright smile was back and as he asked his question he leaned forward with both of his elbows bent on the edge of your desk. His head peaked around to steal glimpses at the various pieces of work both open on your desk and brought up on your computer screen. You had been up to your ass in it before he walked in here and the thought of pausing all of this progress to train this guy was making your stress ulcer act up. You had deadlines to meet if you were going to get this script to the Assistant Directors in time for them to begin filming the next episode. The directors had deadlines, the locations were booked and paid for, the sponsor checks had long ago been cashed, and the reality show talent had a schedule that, contractually, could not be delayed. You simply did not have time for this inexperienced man to be asking you silly questions like “So what do I do here, Noona?”

You pulled a long breath into your lungs through your nose and closed your eyes for a moment, harnessing your self control. It wasn’t his fault you were overwhelmed with work. It wasn’t his fault he was born into a life of privilege and comfort. It wasn’t his fault that you didn't have time to train an entire new employee on the complicated job that sat before you. It was, maybe, perhaps his fault though, that the full head of bottle blonde hair you saw on top of his head had just enough highlights in it to bring out the pink in his cheeks and lips and make him look like something straight out of a boy band.

By the time you’d finished taking in your several calming deep breaths and you put your eyes back on him he was standing over your desk with his eyes peering over the document you had been working through for the past hour.

He was reading and mouthing the words, although from upside down you doubted he could tell what he was looking at, yet you watched curiously as he stuck a slim finger forward to touch the corner of one of the papers. You had been going over translations. Making sure the wording was correct, yes, but ultimately safe for widespread distribution. Your copy had red slashes through it with changes and suggestions. You were the final set of eyes that would approve this language that would be distributed proudly with your companies name all over the world.

“I think this one is no good,” he pointed to a single word on the document that had seemed innocuous enough for you to skip over it entirely. “That word,” his fingertip was stopped on a noun in the middle of the page, “means something very, very naughty in Brazil.”

Your eyes glanced down to where he pointed, surprised first for him to catch on to this task so quickly without you even having to explain it, and second to learn that sometimes a seashell is not just a seashell.

“That’s what you are doing with this, right?” He was grabbing the stack of papers from your desk now. “Give it, you have more important things to do, Miss Manager…” Again his lips continued the next two syllables in silence and you realized that this man was probably the most stubborn person you would ever meet in your entire life, and you were about to be permanently sealed into his mind as his Noona, whether you allowed it or not.

And it wasn’t that you approved of any of this anyway. But by the time your brain turned back on, the documents were already in his hands and he grabbed the red pen and started marking the page on top.

You had no choice but to allow it. The mere thought of someone taking away even a fraction of your workload felt like some sort of a dream come true. Plus, it really did seem like he had some idea of what he was doing. Part of you was genuinely curious as to how he would do.

You glanced over at him occasionally as he read through the pages making his notes and you soon found yourself immersed in the next task that was due soon.

Your focus was interrupted when a chipper sing-songy tune sounded out in his voice beside you, “I’m do-ne,” he called out and the script plopped down on your desk. His eyes were bright and his wide smile was back as his eyebrows wagged in the direction of the stack of papers he’d proudly presented you with.

You’d only made it through the first page when he started speaking again — this time without the singing.

“Did I do well? Do you like it? Can I stay?”

You were leafing through the pages, finding the spot where you left off and where he took over and you quickly read through the lines, taking care to read every suggestion he had made as well as the suggestions he had not made on the chance that in his inexperience he had missed something.

It looked pretty good. You didn’t tell him that though.

“Where did you say you came from again Mr…?”

“Baekhyun. I am Byun Baekhyun and I am yours now. You can use me however you like.” His wide smile had not so much as trembled since he’d brought the script back to you and the jovial attitude did not let up as he delivered to you one of the strangest, most ridiculous promises you’d ever received from anyone in your professional career.

You kept your face blank and ignored his eagerness. At least he was enthusiastic.

“Can you take this down to QC for final approval, Baekhyun…and do you have, like, a resume or something I can look at?”

He nodded with his eyes wide and he was digging through his bag for something. What he handed back to you was a tablet. The electronic kind that kept the little kids quiet at restaurants. His fingers tapped on the screen as he peered over your shoulder he brought up a picture in his photo gallery that seemed to be just a screen shot of his resume. He had to flip past various personal pictures as he did it and you did your best not to focus on any of it until he’d reached the one intended for you to see. There was nothing inappropriate from the looks of it. But it didn’t seem polite of you to snoop.

You did see some things though. Not that you were trying to see anything, but the picture right before the resume was one of him sitting in the driver’s seat of some fancy foreign car with a sweet smile on his face and a different color of hair that if you were being honest looked just as good, if not better than the blonde he had now.

“Sorry Noon—Uhh, Miss Manager, I don't have a printed copy on me but you can look at it there.” His hands were busy putting the paperwork carefully into a large white envelope so he could deliver it all to Quality Control and his head whipped back around with an afterthought for you, “You can just scroll to see the next page, okay?”

He was gone before you could answer him.

His resume showed promise. He’d graduated from an expensive Ivy League, of course, and had spent a few years abroad on various internships, no doubt landed with the ease of his family’s connections in the industry. You’d reached the end of the first page feeling somewhat hopeful that this time your new assistant would prove himself to be quite useful to you for however long he stayed in such a bottom level position. He would probably last no longer than a half a year before he rocketed to the top of the chain of command. The next page had various awards and honors achieved throughout his education and you glanced at the dates that he attended school, cursing your ability to do some quick mental math to guess his age.

He was young. A good amount of years younger than you, that was certain. Of course he was young, his skin still had traces of that smooth soft baby fat in his cheeks. Your finger scrolled back to the first page of his resume and with your fingertip still connected to the glass you allowed the picture to backtrack just a little, so the edges of the image of him smiling behind the steering wheel of that car showed just a little.

You had no business doing this. What were you thinking? You were just some delusional old lady thankful that she had an extra five minutes to her own thoughts thanks to her brand new assistant’s skills with a red pen. You quickly swiped away, back to the safety of the approved viewing material. Page one of Byun Baekhuun’s resume. You swiped again, a little too forceful for this tablet and page two quickly filled your screen. Perhaps the third swipe you made was out of spite but you gasped out loud when the next image in his picture gallery filled the screen of the tablet completely.

A wave of panic filled you and you quickly raced to undo what you had just done, what you had just seen.

You went back. It wasn’t enough.

You went back again, desperate for what you had just seen to be erased from your memory, but no matter how long you stared at the words on that screen, no matter how forcefully you exited out of the gallery entirely, closing the whole thing up and then finally giving up, locking the tablet and putting it to sleep, that image crept back up again and again and again.

Soon the desperation turned to bargaining. And bargaining turned to acceptance. It was normal really for a woman like you, a single, lonely, overworked woman like you to have this sort of reaction to accidentally seeing an attractive shirtless man standing poolside with the sun at his back and wetness glistening over his skin and broad chest and abs and other various well defined, firm, manly muscles.

Anger followed next. You were pretty sure you were going in the wrong order here, but how dare he put that picture in his tablet and just tell you to scroll. It was so easy for him to say it too as if he wanted you to find the picture and admire the time and work he put into building all of those muscles in his body. What if you had been caught in a trap. What if this was some sort of a test by HR to see if you needed to be sent to sensitivity training for sexual predators. What if there was a tracking device on that picture and there was now a blaring nipple warning happening in some control room upstairs.

A soft and pleasant ding interrupted your thoughts and you had a message waiting from Dami in the QC department. Baekhyun must have delivered the package by now. A quick glance at the clock on your computer told you that he had been gone for some time now and you half wondered if perhaps he had gotten lost on his way back.

“Oh my god. WHO. WAS. THAT?!!!??”

“I take it you got the revisions — please be quick, I’ve had 1st AD breathing down my neck all morning.”

“Gotcha. You made some interesting choices with this but I'm into it. What was wrong with those seashells?”

“Vulgar slang, censored in the Brazil market.”

“Ohh-la-la, great catch! This is why you’re the best.”

Her latest message stared back at you as your fingers refused to type a response. The last thing you wanted was to accept someone else’s work as your own, but you also really want to spend too much time on this distracting conversation that was keeping you and her both from your work. A simple emoji would do the trick. A smiley face, or a rolled eyes emoji maybe. Something that didn't exactly make claims to the potential slip up that Baekhyun caught on his first upside down glance at the script that you somehow missed even after looking over it twenty times.

Maybe you needed to brush up on your international slang terms for various sexual acts and their involved genitalia.

“My new assistant, Baekhyun, caught that one.” The long pause between her misdirected compliment and your delayed confession made you feel just a little bit guilty for any potential misunderstandings you might have opened yourself up to.

“Even his name is pretty.”

[She should see his muscles] an uninvited guest in the back of your brain whispered and you winced when it happened.

As soon as the thought crossed your mind you felt the shame of its aftermath course through you. That was the last thing you needed to be thinking about.

You didn't have much time to dwell on it because there was a sudden commotion outside of your office door. You heard the sound of someone’s shrill shouting, overdramatic screaming really and the telltale sounds of someone being thoroughly scolded. At the exact same time an alarm was sounding out on your phone telling you it was time to make it to your biweekly meeting with the directors and assistant directors upstairs. You quickly grabbed your laptop and calendar and made your way out of your door to see what in the world all of the fuss was about.

The carpet outside was littered with assorted papers and standing in the middle of the mess with his head hung down in shame was your assistant, looking sheepish and guilty. The source of the shrieking, as usual, was Carla, one of the less organized members of the translating team. You could see the now empty document tray sitting just at the edge of her desk and you imagined that she had set the whole thing precariously close to the edge again just tempting fate.

“What am I supposed to do with this now? This was my whole day’s work and you’ve made a huge mess of it all! Who even are you? Are you supposed to be in here?”

Baekhyun’s head dipped lower and his cheeks were bright pink as he was scolded again and again for bumping into her teetering tower and sending it crashing down to the ground, as you had seen happen around her desk at least once a week.

“Sorry, but I hardly even touched…” He was opening his mouth now, and as he began to protest what he thought was an unfair scolding you saw her lift up a rolled piece of paper and bonk him squarely on the top of his head with it.

You knew it was time to intervene and you cleared your throat noisily to make your presence known.

Carla’s hand with the rolled up paper dropped in an instant and her eyes widened as she looked at you in surprise.

“M…Manager, He…”

Baekhyun’s face whipped to look to you and you noted the apprehension in his eyes and the way he pulled his lips into the smallest pouty frown.

“Carla, why don't you and Emily work together on this? I know you’ve been working very hard all alone this week. Emily, let’s push back your workload to next week, hmm?” You pivoted to address the rest of your team as to not call attention to Carla alone.

“Everyone, let’s not stack everything on the edge of our desks. Let’s try and keep a clean workspace for everyone so accidents like this don't happen so often.”

You did your best to keep any bit of reproach out of your voice and it must have worked just enough to satisfy the easily excited girl because she closed up her mouth and flattened out her angry eyebrows with a small shrug.

You weren't above cleaning up a little mess here and there. As soon as you were done talking you dropped down to your knees and started gathering the papers up into a stack, the moment you moved, the rest of the team all dropped to their knees to do the same. Baekhyun was the first at your side, reaching for papers and pulling them out of your hands as you made neat stacks and he placed them carefully on the opposite side of Carla’s desk next to the partition, safe from literally anyone who might want to walk through this office.

“Baekhyun, I have a meeting upstairs, why don't you tag along so you can see what that’s like?”

“Yes ma’am,” he whispered beside you with a smile building on his face again and he moved quickly, keeping directly behind your steps as you moved down the hallway to the elevators.

“Noona, I’m so sorry about that earlier — I didn’t mean to cause trouble. I don't even know how it happened. All of a sudden she was just yelling at me. ”

“Manager, Baekhyun,” you corrected quickly as you stepped into the elevator first and he followed behind with a sheepish smile creeping up on his face. “And you didn't cause any trouble. You were just in the wrong place at the wrong time.”

“You were so cool though. You felt like a hostage negotiator, freeing me from my kidnapper. What did you think of my resume? Am I a man that meets your high standards?” His questions came in rapid succession one after another and you held your composure well at the mention of that damned resume of his.

That resume and those muscles.

“You’re smart and you seem capable enough,” and young and firm and handsome as all hell, “I’m sure you’ll do fine while you are here.”

You gripped your calendar in your fist and tapped it lightly against his belly. He grunted once and grabbed it with his free hands. “Pay attention to that. You’ll need to follow my schedule.”

He smiled and shone brightly in response with an energetic head nod and he spent most of the upstairs meeting leafing through your calendar, making small marks on certain dates and pulling out his cell phone to no doubt copy certain entries into his own phone calendar.

Baekhyun’s first day was eventful but he was very promising. The next days and weeks to come were interesting in a way you hesitated to define.

He proved himself valuable to you instantly. He was indeed smart and capable and had a sense about him that you hadn’t seen before in a coworker. Having him at your side not only made your own job infinitely easier, but you noticed your mood had lightened when he was around.

He was cheerful and funny and although you tried your absolute best not to encourage his jokes or god forbid, laugh at them, the first time you slipped and let a quick chuckle out over something stupid he’d said he looked at you with wide eyes and the proudest grin on his face. You had to instantly roll your eyes for damage control.

“That’s the first time I’ve ever made you laugh. Noona, admit it, you like me just a little bit.”

You’d given up on trying to break him of that nickname after the first week of him just ignoring your attempts. The first time you’d answered to it, you knew it was over. You’d screwed up.

And you just did it again with the laugh. He was holding something very important just out of your reach as he sometimes did when his mood grew playful and you had been doing your best not to kick him in the shins so he would drop the stupid thing that you just needed your final signature of approval so you could move on to the next thing that needed your immediate attention.

“I never said I didn’t like you, Baekhyun, this is work. We are working right now. If I miss this deadline that’s it for me and for you and for the entire department out there.”

“So when the project wraps you’ll have a drink with me and then you’ll laugh at all of my jokes? You promise?” He dropped the papers just enough for you to be able to touch the corner of them and you gripped them tightly, pulling them hard into your hands with a force that instantly made him let go. He knew the penalties of destroying something at the last minute and no amount of playfulness would make him risk having to run around re-gathering important person’s signatures with just one hour until shooting began.

It was what you needed and you signed quickly with a pen, passing them back into his arms with an urgency on your voice.

“Fine. Go. Now.” He was out the door without a second word. Of course he was playing about drinks with you. Of course he was playing with you about liking him just a little bit. This was just what he did and he didn't mean any of it at all. This guy was so far out of your league he had his own fan club.

He was very highly sought after by all of the young ladies in this office alone, and you had heard rumors of his popularity in the rest of the building.

Why wouldn't he be joking with you? It made no sense for you to take any of it seriously and you knew it deep down inside of you.

You made for a quick fluff in the mirror on your wall and a touch up of your makeup along with slipping on a classy professional jacket and the heels you kept in your office for situations that required you to look just a little more presentable than usual. You had another meeting to attend for an upcoming project. Something new and different that required you to meet with a whole new team of very important people to sell yourself and your team and their highly sought after skill set. You pressed the elevator button and caught a glimpse of your reflection in the shining silver elevator doors and just behind you saw the familiar bounce of his blonde hair as he rushed to your side to join you at this meeting. He was huffing and puffing from clearly running through the office to get back to you. You noticed the flush in his cheeks and what looked like dust on his jacket. His hair was just a little messy too. You always did your best not to look too closely at Baekhyun. The few times you did allow it your mind would wander into forbidden places and you noticed that it never took very long for him to catch you watching him.

He didn’t need to attend this one. It was more of a schmoozing event than any sort of technical planning meeting but the sight of his bright smile brought you a strange comfort so you didn’t send him away. Inside the elevator you noticed he was watching your face rather closely and when you turned to him in question he lifted a finger up to his lips and pointed.

“Your lipstick has a little smudge.”

Great. Just what you needed. You tried to look your best and just ended up a mess again. You reached up and rubbed lightly below your bottom lip and he shook his head and took a step closer to you and lifted his own hand to your face.

You froze and held your breath and you stared into his face in shock as the tip of his finger ran a path down the edge of your upper lip. He cocked his head to the side and his eyes slipped into your own for a split second and you were sure that you noticed his cheeks darken a shade. Had your own cheeks given you away so easily as well?

Baekhyun cleared his throat but he wasn’t done and he was no longer looking into your eyes as he did this. He made another, firmer pass of his index finger over the edge of your upper lip and you instinctively pulled your lips inward and squeezed them together, pretending as if you needed to spread your lipstick more instead of just getting away from his fingertips that touched you in this quiet and private place.

As you did it, he moved again. His hand lifted to run his fingertips along your temple, where you must have had an errant strand of hair that he slowly and carefully tucked behind your ear. You kept your breathing calm and steady and you kept your face impassive, but the racket inside of your own chest as your heart beat took on a life of its own was distracting and terribly concerning. You were a mess deep down inside. You were just so good at hiding it from him.

“There,” he whispered. “Beautiful,” he said even quieter, almost entirely under his breath just as the sound of elevator dinging made you jump with the sudden intrusion.

You were the first one out. You didn’t hear his footsteps behind you as you usually did and when you risked a quick glimpse behind you, you noticed he hadn’t yet left the elevator and his focus seemed distracted and lost.

“Baek,” you called and his eyes snapped back to life before the elevator doors closed on him. He shook his head lightly and took three big steps to take his place at your side. His smile was nowhere to be found and his eyes didn't quite meet yours and something about him made the air in this blasted hallway feel awkward and claggy and downright difficult to breathe in.

“Oh, I feel—,” you let out a breath through your pursed lips and whispered out loud to yourself as you placed a hand over your chest to calm your beating heart, “—-nervous,” you admitted in defeat, pausing outside of the heavy wooden doors.

“Because of the meeting?” A quiet question eked out in a familiar voice behind you and you refused to meet his eyes.

“Of course, why else?” You answered flatly and quickly but his reply did not come as quick. What came instead was a sharp inhale of breath pulled into the lungs of the man who stood behind you at this door.

“Right,” he said softly with a small exhale through his nose. “Why else.” He agreed out loud. You must have imagined just a hint of disappointment in that exhale. Of course you’d imagined it. It probably originated inside of your own head, really. Everyone knew you had no business feeling any sort of way about your assistant Byun Baekhyun. Whether it be disappointment; or heart flutterings; or attraction; or desire; all of it was off limits.

“Baekhyun, this is a very important meeting.” You inhaled slowly and deeply and stole a glance to your left where Baekhyun stood and you noticed he had what looked like an entire leaf stuck to the top of his head.

What?

The more you looked at him the messier he actually seemed and you knew that behind that door would be a multitude of very important, very rich people who held your future in their hands. People who very likely did not have dirt on their coats and leaves in their hair.

This would not do. There was an empty hallway near the stairwell at the end of the corridor. You’d often used that quiet space to regroup before these kinds of meetings. You knew there was a bench and a clock on the wall that did not tick as it’s big hands spun around its face. You reached for his arm and pulled him

“Why are you so messy? What happened to you?” You pulled him fast and he complied with rushed steps to the sanctuary of that quiet space and when you pushed at his shoulders, sending him down to sit in front of you on the bench, he did so with a soft grunt of surprise and zero resistance. Baekhyun never ever resisted anything from you. You’d overheard him downright arguing with some of the other staff members before but he took being your assistant quite seriously and treated even small requests from you as if they had been laws set in stone to follow.

He was just a little bit ridiculous but mostly he was just the best.

“Before, when I was getting signatures, the paper flew away in the wind and I had to chase it down. There was a bush…” You brushed at his coat with your fingertips, patting harder to get some of the dirt to fall off and you had to step closer to him to get at the leaves in his hair. There were two and they were small and dried and they crumbled into a million bits when you grabbed them, making you have to pull apart the strands of his blonde hair carefully to remove every last bit of them.

“…it flew under the bush in the courtyard and I had t-to…”

You knew you were leaning into him and he seemed to abruptly stop his explanations when you took another step placing your feet in the spaces around where his feet parted, you felt the roundness of his kneecap brush against the inside of your inner knee and he had gone completely still and his words quit entirely. The part of your brain where you kept your most incriminating secrets about him sounded alarms and warning bells. You ignored the cacophony in favor of this necessary task at hand.

It took some doing but you’d gotten all of the mess out of his hair. There was a small pile of broken and dried leaves sitting in the palm of your hand and you noticed some more dirt on the breast of his dark blue coat. It was a dark enough colored coat that the dirt would definitely show so you reached down with your empty hand, laying your palm over the spot, you tried to brush the dirt away. It didn’t budge as easily as you wished it would and a second pass with your hand, with more pressure seemed to work better.

It was almost done. He was nearly perfect again but when your hand returned for one more pass your mind’s alarms rang as you caught on to the firmness and the warmth you felt below his coat. the feeling of him inside of these clothes.

Your stupid intrusive thoughts that you did your best to keep at bay surged up again.

Baekhyun was silent and motionless. Baekhyun had done nothing to encourage this. Everything he had ever told you that might have sounded flirtatious was said in jest. He was joking. He was always joking with you, that was just his way. But he sure did joke a lot with you. You often found yourself confused and frustrated by him.

The dust was gone. He could go now. You could let him go. He was ready to face them.

“There,” you said in a soft whisper, beautiful you thought in secret. Your whisper felt an appropriate tone of voice for such a quiet and secluded hideaway such as this and you mustered up the nerve to remove your hand from his chest so you could throw this trash away and attend your damn meeting.

You rocked back on your feet, shifting your balance away from where he sat on this bench, introducing some distance between the two of you. Then you moved your hand away from his chest for a fraction of a second you no longer felt the warmth and the firmness of his body below your palm and you began to pivot on your heels, you began to turn away from him and extract yourself entirely from this fantastical and impossible situation you had been entertaining inside of your own silly imagination. Only when you shifted so did he and rather than the warmth of his chest under the palm of your hand you felt the slow moving heat of his hand covering over the back of your own hand.

The sensation caught you off guard and you froze mid step, looking down to see it happening. You felt the smoothness of his fingertips tracing an achingly dizzying path up your wrist and higher until your entire hand had been covered completely by his.

You took another step away from him. This was strange. This was some sort of trick of your imagination again.

Your eyes sought out his eyes for answers only the look you saw in his expression did not give you any insight at all. He was watching you with a sort of detachment from this, from you; similar to the same look you’d seen from him in the elevator earlier. Similar to the look you’d seen from him many times over the course of the last few months of working closely with him.

You needed more answers than his face could give and when you took another step the grip he had on your hand tensed and he held on tighter and suddenly he was in motion as his thigh muscles tensed up and he stood on own two feet.

Your mind was consumed by confusion and uncertainty when his movements did not stop.

Baekhyun took a step into you, undoing the distance you had carefully and desperately put between your body and his body and out of the corner of your eye you caught movement in his other hand.

The fragments of seconds of time were insufficient to process any of this. If he was playing some sort of a trick, he was taking it too far for sure. Your heart was entirely too weak to take this kind of behavior from him.

Baekhyun’s hand lifted — he sought to touch the side of your face and at the same time, the distance between the two of you shrunk in an instant as he moved in. You watched on in surprise and in shock until every detail of Byun Baekhyun’s face blurred and you felt the warm wetness of his lips that landed over your own surprised ones.

He kissed you.

He had kissed you.

In this space, this quiet space that was once only yours, he had kissed you and you were frozen in this moment without even the ability to comprehend how this man could have done this, or why he had done this, or what, if anything at all was the punchline of this particular joke of his.

He had kissed you and he was still kissing you and your frozen reaction must have been what brought him to his senses.

He opened his eyes and his lips retreated just enough for him to pull back and look into your face. You made a sound. It was the smallest questioning hum from the back of your throat and you shook your head a microscopic amount to try and clear the static happening inside your brain.

“Uhh,” you finally managed and he had dropped his hold on your hand and closed his eyes up tight.

He looked to his left and then he looked to his right. Both spaces were empty. You were standing in front of him but he did not look at you.

His eyes closed up again and you saw him pull his lips in between his teeth and he bit down and exhaled a huff through his nose before pulling his expression into the smallest wince.

“Shit,” he whispered. He looked behind himself. He looked up at the ceiling and he looked down at the floor. He wasn’t actually looking anywhere but you knew for absolute certainty that he was not looking at you.

You swallowed away the dryness inside of your mouth at the sound of that tiny curse word and the unimaginably tiny sting you felt inside of your chest when you heard him say it.

This was okay.

This was fine.

It was just a mistake; a joke taken too far. He was silly by nature and you did not need to read anything into this little blunder of his. You definitely didn't want to make him feel bad about having made this mistake. Maybe this suffocating ache inside of your chest was the punchline. You could feel its tendrils creeping up inside.

Ha! Ha! Stupid old lady.

No. No, This was okay.

This was fine.

The clock on the wall called to you and you watched the minute hand join up with the hour hand as the two became one and it was 12 noon. It was time for both of you to be inside that meeting room instead of out here playing jokes on each other and instantly regretting it.

His gaze followed yours, touching upon that clock and understanding the task at hand and you stood straighter, fixed your skirt and jacket, made sure your button up blouse was still closed up tight, and you made a few steps toward the trash can to throw away the dried leaves from his hair and from what felt like ages ago and you heard his footsteps follow you down the hallway to enter the meeting room.

You did not hold the door open behind you and you did not listen carefully for the comforting sound of his footsteps behind you. When you opened the door to walk inside you did not do so with any regard for anyone else in the world — especially not for someone like Byun Baekhyun, who’s father’s name adorned the outside of this enormous building and even your paychecks. Especially not for Byun Baekhyun who had exactly three weeks left of his detail in the International Subbing Department before he moved on to QC or AD or wherever the hell he wanted to go when he left you.

[To Be Continued]

Links: Can I Stay? Part 1, Part 2, Part 3, Part 4, Part 5

#baekhyun #baekhyun fic #exo #exo fic #fan fiction #Baekhyun fanficion #i think this will be a two shot.#nothing crazy long #just something to ease me back into writing #maybe #or maybe the last two chapters of anything I’ll ever write again #who the hell knows #i dont

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discluded · 9 months

Note

🫂🫂🫂🫂🫂🫂🫂

🫂🫂🫂 right back at you friend

also omg OK hold on I'm just gonna answer all of you at once

@ shit talk in person anon - yes, some of that but also there didn't seem to be a single person he didn't have something negative to say about either. I'm kind of surprised Poi thought she'd be exempt from all of it. Listen, piece of life advice, if there's someone in your life (usually a friend) who seems to shit talk like dozens and dozens of people they interact with to you, especially when you don't know them or are questioning why that annoys them, then there's a 100% likelihood they're also trash talking you behind your back too. Dump those people.

@ how can you love someone you don't know anon & @ adamant that he is innocent anon - they don't really love him or know him, they treat him like a doll they can control. I believe you sent this before the new text leaks today, but Bob continued to encourage them to give him expensive gifts and form these parasocial bonds with him while others like Apo intentionally try to draw these lines between the personal and the professional and discourage this kind of fan behavior. A lot of times, these types of "fans" (stalkers, tbh, maybe digital stalkers) don't really have control over negative situations in their life and want to treat someone famous like a doll they can control and claim they're the reason that idol/actor/musician is famous. It's for their own psychological gratification. That's also why they see exposing Bob's behavior is a direct attack on them personally.

@ fandom isn't what it used to be anon - i don't think it's meaningful to say things are worse or better, let's just say that things will always continue to change. People who loved KinnPorsche were around more when the show was airing and then left (reasonably because the project finished), people split off to support their own favorites' new projects, which is also reasonable! Sooner rather than later now, there will be MA fans who have never watched KinnPorsche, there will be Jeff fans who're only around for his music, etc. New projects will bring in new fans to the actors, and bring those fans to their old projects too. That's why it's important to keep supporting their work.

But I will say how factious the fandom is directly caused by Bob intentionally sowing discord and tension between different fan groups. The translated texts show that he was purposefully initiating it and gleeful that it succeeded 🤷🏻‍♀️ You can't save things that are rotten at the core and he rotted it.

@ nobody spoke up anon - i don't like to give attention to toxic solos (and they locked their account anyway) but from what I understand, they meant no one spoke up for A not being at the promo shoot because Daemi intentionally booked it on a day he had other professional obligations. It's one of those "we need to protect Apo boo hoo it's us (his fans) and him against the world" in their usual deranged strain. Apo did take to Twitter to criticize Daemi when it originally happened which was in April, and Daemi was finally ousted from BOC in July after the SH situation on set was exposed.

Given that Bob intentionally told Poi to make up some excuse as to why Apo couldn't be at the shoot and then make BOC (who was unaware of this situation) take on the burden of explaining it, they probably had as many excuses lined up the day of the shoot as needed in preparation for any questions other actors might have had about why Apo wasn't there. Of course all of us are angry Bob did this to Apo, but to criticize the other actors, who had no final say in the product or knowledge this was happening, is absurd. Why Pond went along with it is another question

#oh boy #anon

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who-knows-things · 1 year

Text

New Beginnings

Fandom: Welcome to Demon School, Iruma-kun

Series: The Hermit of Sullivan Manor

Summary: Ali, a 20 year old human girl; after years of pain due to a ailment, decides to finally do something about it. By summoning a demon, obviously. She gets a family in the process.

(happens sometime after the battler party)

Inspired by: “For the Sake of a Smile” by 4ever_Rewritten on Ao3

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

So, making a contract with a demon to fix my chronic ailment; you're probably wondering how I got here. Well first off, I'm Ali and After a long time of suffering I decided to do something about it, a bit unorthodox sure but what else was I supposed to do?

Well anyway back to the present:

"Ok…here we go."

She looked down at the book skeptically, before sighing and starting muttering the words inscribed in the book. Ali started to gain confidence as she chanted the lines,the candles lining the room flickered as a dark wind angrily swept around her. Was this actually working??? She carried on despite her fear and slight amazement.

The demon crawled out of the floor stained with blood from her own hand that painted the seal. First monstrous black wings, long golden horns set against a bald head. Harsh, glowing eyes glared at Ali from behind glasses as the demon Sullivan stood to his full glory, nearly twice her height. "You dare summon me here, child?" The demon spoke firmly, even with his eyes behind small round glasses she could feel the intensity of his gaze. Ali took a breath before finally speaking, "Y-yes, I do." He stared down at her especially, she took another breath before continuing, "I've summoned you here so that you can heal me of my ailment. You are an extremely powerful demon aren't you?"

The demon seemed to ponder for a moment, contemplating to himself. Sullivan could see the tiredness in the girl's eyes behind busted up glasses, she must have been quite desperate indeed to have summoned him.

"And what would I get in return?"

"My soul…I think that's fair, don't you?"

The demon shrugged slightly before extending his hand, "It's a deal then."

Ali extended her hand as well, no turning back now… she took his hand and everything faded to black.

—

"Please be my granddaughter!"

"Heh?!"

The girl was startled by the sudden mood change, as she looked around the new place she was in. High ceilings with a very nice architecture, Ali was also in a very nice plush chair as the demon in front of her was kneeling. "Come again?" She asked, not sure what to think. "Well" the old demon started, "I thought you'd like to heal in a more comfortable place, I'll even spoil you rotten in the meantime. Besides, while Belial and Levi may also have grandsons, I'll also have a granddaughter! They'll be so jealous!" The demon laughed to himself, as Ali thought about the offer, digging her fingernails into the fabric of the chair. After all it did make sense for her to be close by but to also be comforted, cared for and spoiled? That did sound appealing, even if it was a little selfish of her…Well, could be much worse, as she was about to give her answer, Sullivan spun around to acknowledge her again, his face a little bit more serious, "However!" Ali sank down slightly in the chair, the demon gently took her hands, getting down slightly to her level; "All I ask in return is for you to be like a sister to my grandson, Iruma. He's never had a sibling in his life and I thought it'd be good for him." A brother huh, "I've never had a brother before, but I always thought it'd be nice to have one… Well if you promise to keep your side of the bargain and heal me, I don't see why not." She smiled ever so slightly at the man, the demon clapped his hands together enthusiastically, "Of course,I am a man of my word after all. Now then please sign here." The demon held out a piece of paper for her to sign, definitely no going back now. She took the pen she was handed and signed on the line. "Ali…what a nice name! Anyway"

The room suddenly shifted, they were suddenly in a different room entirely, an extremely elegant bedroom with a queen sized bed, a desk, and a few bookcases, the walls were painted a very nice lavender color. "This will be your room! We can decorate more to your liking later, for now you should get some sleep, you've had an eventful day today." The demon- Grandpa? said, before splashing her in some kind of…perfume? It smelled like perfume, just not as strong. "This is a perfume designed to hide your human scent, if demons think you're human they will try to eat you. So do be careful." He said, like that was totally normal. "Ok…" was all she could manage. He then handed Ali some pajamas, a cup of warm water and a small cup of medicine? "You are to take this medicine twice a day, once when you get up and once when you go to sleep, if you need anything I'll be right down the hall." Sullivan gently patted the girl on the head, as she looked up at him a little bewildered. "Um, thank you Grandpa." She smiled up at him. Sullivan gushed slightly, "Awwww, aren't you the sweetest?!? See you in the morning, my dear!" He rushed out of the room, obviously very excited. She went over to her new bed, putting the other two things down on the side table and then getting into her pajamas which felt like some kind of nice cotton like fabric. Ali hesitantly picked up the small cup of medicine and sniffed it. Which was in retrospect a bad idea, as you see it didn't matter from where you were from the netherworld or otherwise, all medicine smelled and therefore tasted horrible. She decided to just suck it up and get it over with, pinching her nose shut. Ali took it like a shot, letting the gross black liquid into her mouth before almost throwing up at the taste and drinking the contents of the warm water to get the awful taste out. She sighed, finally getting it down and laying back on the ginormous bed which she almost melted into; It was so comfortable. She took off her glasses and set them down as she reached over for the light, turning it off. 'Well, I guess this is my life now' she thought to herself, not that she minded too much, this would be interesting. She smiled to herself before slipping into a dreamless sleep.

___

Sullivan skipped down the hall, thinking about all the things he could do with his new granddaughter. Before Opera appeared to him suddenly, squinting at him. "Another one, sir?" They said, not really mad, just disappointed. "What if the border patrol finds out again? That was too close last time and you know it." They stated bluntly. Sullivan waved off their concern, "Oh please, I was much more careful this time, I promise! Besides, it's nice to finally have a lady in the house, don't you think?" They're ears lowered slightly, before sighing, "I'll set up an extra place on the table, and make even more food than normal." Sullivan gushed, clapping his hands together very pleased, "Splendid, now good night Opera." He said going past them to his room, they bowed their head slightly "Good night, sir."

They hoped everything would turn out okay

#welcome to demon school iruma kun #mairimashita iruma kun #orginal character #found family #suzuki iruma #lord sullivan #opera

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gildedmuse · 3 years

Text

I started this as a series of ZoLaw AUs Nobody Asked For prompts based on All Hearts and somehow it just got hella long. Here are the first two. I have no real excuse for these. I thought they would be fun?

More to follow.

(credit to @jhaernyl for talking with me through all this)

Move a few things up three years and Luffy isn't there to find Zoro tied to a post because of honor (but also drama ). Instead, Zoro is "rescued" by Ace, if you can call it a rescue (sure, Ace warned him about the planned execution and took it upon himself to retrieve Zoro's swords, but the sixteen year old is adamant that it doesn't count seeing as he had to save Ace's ass from all the marines he pissed off rampaging through their base, not to mention taking down that axe-handed piece of shit who apparently has been terrorizing Shells Town since he got here a couple months back; Zoro may still be a "naive little kid" according to Ace, but he knows enough to know that if a captain has to have his crew cowering in fear than he isn't really a captain) and is subsequently informed that he's lucky enough to become the second official crew member of the notorious Spade Pirates.

His new captain is a queer fish. Sometimes the other pirate is warm and outgoing, and Zoro thinks he'd probably make a really good Uchidachi or sworn brother type, that is until the idiot goes and does something brazenfaced and reckless, leaving Zoro to save his dumb ass. This only gets worse when they end up shipwrecked on some island with a masked no-one and one oversized bird that spits a treasure chest at them before flying off before Zoro can turn it into dinner.

The chest has one rotten looking apple in it which Ace says they should share, but what kind of first mate would insist on eating while his captain starved? It's just a stupid piece of fruit, so Zoro refuses his piece, letting Ace and the masked man split it between the two of them while he glares into the distance, searching for any trace of a ship or island he could swim out to.

Until right then, Zoro had never heard of a devil's fruit before - he prefers meat, fish, and rice, anyway - yet somehow it's not all that surprising when Ace can suddenly ignite, turning from flesh to fire and back again like it's as natural as the sea itself. Zoro has no use for fate and fortune. Those who go on about how shit is meant to happen are just trying to justify failing when it's really down to their own indolence; if a person really wants something they won't let something as weak as destiny stand in their way. But Ace getting this particular weird ability doesn't come as a shock to him. Seeing actual flames dancing around him isn't that different from his usual aura. Zoro doesn't think it was preordained or anything, but it feels natural and right.

Once they build a boat that Ace can "fire sail", and Zoro is sure his captain won't burn it down in the process, they set out plus one new, nameless cremate. That one turns into eighteen (Zoro is there for most of the recruitments and he still isn't sure how Ace talks these idiots into following him), the Striker becomes the Piece of Spadille, and the calm, tropic waters of the East Blue turn into the wild, unpredictable seaway called the Grand Line where there is a barrage of bounty hunters, annoying marines, eerily inviting villages and damned devil fruit users all of whom seem to take one look at Zoro's captain and decided they want him dead.

Zoro's having the time of his life.

The Grand Line isn't just obsessed marines and Islands that all seem to be under the thumb of some asshole. There's also plenty of other pirates, although most of them aren't worth dulling Zoro's blare on. Most of them act all tough at first, then they see what the Spade Pirates can do. After that, they tend to give Zoro and his crew a wide berth. Then there is Trafalgar Law.

Kimel and Ganryu call him an Ice Trawler, but Mask Deuce makes it clear Zoro isn't to say that, which is stupid, Zoro can say whatever he likes - the crew sometimes treats him like a child when he's only a few years younger than most of them - and anyway, he isn't going to bother calling the other pirate by some silly nickname.

He just called him Torao, same as his captain.

The northern has an obnoxiously attractive arrogant smirk and stormy eyes that flash like lightning when he spots trouble. He might act exasperated and sniping that their captain is a, "hotheaded, impetuous green-hide" - which only the other Spade Pirates are allowed to say no matter how much of an idiot he's been - but Torao can't hide his the devilish glee he gets in anticipation of a good fight. Zoro's sure that's why, despite all the bickering they do, he and Ace are such keen rivals.

In Zoro's opinion, a worthy rival is the second most important relationship you can have; even the best sensei in all the Blues is no replacement for a half decent rival. A rival helps hone your skills, they force you to become better, they drive you forward even after your feet are numb and your hands and cheeks full of splinters from hours spent handling half worn bokken. Sometimes, when the two crews clash over a useless treasure or who can claim victory in some spontaneous competition, Ace and Torao will have a sort of face off. Not a real fight, but certainly real enough for any unlucky soul who got caught in the crossfire. Zoro isn't jealous, not exactly, he certainly doesn't begrudge Ace a good tussle…. But it seems to him that it doesn't make sense that the older boy should always get first shot at taking on Torao. After all, Ace doesn't use a sword (which, having once had to witness him swinging a priceless meito around like a kid playing with a stick, Zoro is incredibly grateful for) but Torao is a fellow kenshi. It's not just a tool in his hands, either, though it's already impressive the weight he can give his strikes with a sword meant to be carried by horseback. Torao commands the sword, with that sort of effortless style and a confidence that is born from a mutual respect between the roguishly cunning swordsman and the cursed, hungry blade in his hands. Zoro likes Bear-po. He's surprisingly agile even if he does apologize way too much (it's Zoro's own fault he got electrocuted, he should have had his eyes on his opponent instead of the two power users). Still, it feels like he should get to cross swords with Torao at least once, just to see if he'd make as good a rival in kendo as he does at pirating.

But Torao is Ace's rival first and foremost, and Ace is Zoro's captain. And the only bond more important than respect between rivals is loyalty between nakama.

Which makes it kind of hard to take when Ace decides they5re no longer a crew. At least, not the same one.

"We're still nakama," Ace argues, and most of the crew seems to believe him. It's only Zoro and Deuce who are the hold outs, arms crossed over their chests as they stare down Ace. Zoro knows he looks skeptical. He can't actually tell what emotions Deuce might bebe feelling behind his mask. "What's it matter what jolly roger we sail under?"

Zoro gets off at the next port.

He spends time jumping from island to island and fight to fight, but everything feels strangely quiet. Zoro should like it, but he doesn't.

He sees Torao in some bar just this side of the red line. He has the nerve to look amused when Zoro tells him about Ace.

"It's a very cute prank," Law chuckles, while Zoro doesn't find any of this in the least bit funny. "Fire Fist-ya didn't device it himself, that's obvious. It's not very subtle, but them sending just Zoro-ya, and having him claim he's so unattached and alone, is exactly what makes it so likely to be it does take a small bit of thought." Zoro frowns, no idea what the other pirate is taking about. Torao takes another sip of his sake. Zoro has the feeling this isn't his first. Zoro doesn't see Bear-po or his funny hat wearing crew anywhere. "Sending you in to act as bait. I wouldn't have thought your crew capable of such a level of observation."

Whatever. Like it matters to him of Torao believes him or not. Zoro turns to go when suddenly there's a cold grip at his wrist. Long, inked up fingers hold him back with surprising strength. Zoro can't help but raise an eyebrow. It doesn't hurt, not even close, but he wonders if Torao knows how much force he's using. "Let's say," Torao starts, voice much quieter now, less amused. "I believed you, Zoro-ya. That you left your crew and happened to stumble into this bar on this island. There's still no reason to take the seat next to me."

"Unless…" Torao still hasn't dropped Zoro's wrist. He cocks his head, his false smile entirely gone. Instead he's taken to staring at Zoro like he's something Torao can take apart, the way he does with marines and lesser pirates and, that one time, Ace. "You wanted something from me."

Zoro tilts his head, though he doesn't really have to give it any thought. "I've always want to challenge you," he admits.

Torao gives a mirthless chuckle. "You already do that plenty."

Zoro barely has time to brace his hold on his sword when Torao let's go of his wrist, spreading his fingers wide. "Room!"

"Shambles!"

Mihawk finds a young Zoro and sees the potential in the child, but it's one thing to appreciate someone's talent and spirit, another to, you know, raise a child. Shanks, on the other hand, is more than willing to take on the young orphan Mihawk found! (Poor Benn does not get a say).

So continuing Roger and Rayleigh's tradition of making astonishingly poor parental choices, Zoro is raised by the Red-Hair Pirates. This somehow results in him being more laid back/chill while also more chaotic and self assured. He's also given a lot of freedom to go roaming off on his own, even before he hits thirteen. (Hey, Shanks will come save his ass if anything too terrible happens. He'll be fine. Come on, Beckmen, let the boy have some fun!)

So when Law meets this highly skilled, ridiculously powerful kenshi who appears to be on his own, unflappable, and possibly insane based on how eager he'd been to face down a vice admiral he immediately sees it as an opportunity. On the one hand, the green haired kenshi is unpredictable, sure, but if Law can harness the boy's raw power then he could be a huge asset (his other assets certainly don't hurt Law's opinion of him, either). After they take down the vice admiral and his crew, Law asks the lone pirate if he'd be interested in an alliance. Before he can even get to the incentive (if the swordsman is looking for a challenge, how about going after a warlord and a pirate emperor?) the boy shrugs his broad shoulders, drops to the wrecked, blood stained deck of the former navy vessel, makes an offhand sound of agreement, and then apparently settles in for a nap despite the fact that they're still drifting at sea and he's on a half destroyed ship with a total stranger who could easily kill him while he sleeps. Not that he is about to murder the only person in all the blues possibly crazy enough for Law's plan, it's the principal of the thing.

The more time he spends with Zoro-ya, the more he suspects some kind of strange devil's fruit is at play. The boy follows him around without question, doesn't inherently distrust everyone they meet, never second guesses himself, sleeps in the middle of everything from hurricanes to naval battles, and yet comes out of the most precarious situations without a scratch. It's almost as amazing as how he isn't put off by Law's coldness or his casual mockery of Zoro-ya's occasional naivities. The other pirate stays at Law's side, brushing off any of Law's suspicions with a simple, "We're allies, aren't we?"

(Law isn't sure where Zoro-ya picked up his definition of a pirate alliance, but they don't usually involve such loyalty and support, not to mention other, less innocent activities. Law certainly isn't about to correct his misconceptions on the matter.)

With his crew having already set off towards Zou, that leaves Law with only Zoro-ya for nearly two months. Which allows him to get strangely familiar with the younger kenshi. In a way he hasn't been with anyone but some of his crew in a long time. He's learned Zoro-ya's habits, his favorite foods, his training regime. He knows all sorts of small, intimate details about this boy.

Law: A vivre card?

Zoro: Mm? Oh, I thought I'd lost that back with that porcupine idiot.

Law: It's gotten highly active all the sudden.

Zoro: The captain mlust be nearby. Guess you'll get to meet my crew.

Law: Your captain...

Law: Wait. What?

That's right, it's two months into this alliance and Zoro-ya only now mentioned that he isn't, as Law had presumed, a lone pirate wandering from island to island. He agreed to enter an alliance and never thought to mention there were others!?

(In Zoro's mind, that whole deal is between him and Law and doesn't involve the crew, but it HAS been a few months since he's seen the guys, and he'd like to drop in and catch up. He figures he might as well bring Law along, and introduce his captain to his new ally.)

Zoro: Don't let them intimidate you. They can sense weakness

Law: I'm not easily intimidated. If you're part of their crew, why don't you sail with them?

Zoro: They've never had a problem with me going off on my own for a while. I've been doing it since I was a kid. I always find my way back.

On his own? On purpose? Law highly doubts that.

This clears up some of his suspicions, since Law hadn't missed the small hints that Zoro-ya had been raised at sea, likely by pirates. It appears as if this is less a threat to their current agreement, more an introduction. A "meet the folks" scenario.

Only the folks turn out to be Akagami Shanks and Benn fucking Beckmen! How did you fail to mention your captain was a goddamn YONKO, Zoro-ya?

Law, beforehand: *All cocky* If you want me to meet this crew so bad Zoro-ya, I'll be happy to go with you. (And meet these old "swashbuckler" types, ha probably just merchants dealing in illegal fruits or something.)

Law, actually in front of Shanks and Benn: Hello, sirs. I, uh, ai'm allied with your son. But we're very safe about it!

Zoro: He is also my lover and we are very safe about that too

Because he was raised by Shanks.

Law is seriously contemplating just throwing himself over the side of the ship. Of all the situations to find himself face to face with one of the four emperors. Not that he's afraid. Law will gladly stand up to any shichibukai or yonko and dare to take them on. This isn't exactly an all out battle for victory, though Law definitely feels his life is on the lines. Something in Benn's eyes says that he's definitely dispatched of guys Zoro has slept with before, at least that's what Law is seeing. He's not fooled by Akagami-ya 's faking being all merry and drunk, either.

Zoro: What? It's just Shanks. If you're scared of anyone it ought to be Benn.

That. Does. Not. Help.

Benn pleasantly asking questions to Law while Shanks parties and catches up with Zoro. Just getting to know Zoro's new "ally".

Law's fear/nervousness lasting just until Shanks let's slip that it's good that Zoro found someone closer to his own age. Not that he doesn't love Miha, but the way his friend looks at Zoro is definitely not child friendly.

At which point Law's attention swerves immediately to their conversation. "Excuse me, but who is "Miha"?"

And Law getting to hear all about Hawkeye Mihawk's apparent obsession with Zoro-ya (at least, that's the way Shanks tells it, but keep in mind, Shanks is still pretty upset about the scar - come on, Miha! He promised Beckman he wouldn't let the kid get seriously hurt!). Law is bristling the entire time.

Shanks snickering and nudging Benn in the stomach at how obviously possessive Law immediately gets, suddenly having no qualms about touching Zoro in front of them, or constantly making sure Zoro is focused on him.

(Ahh, look how much their little kiddo enjoys all the attention, Benn!)

Zoro doesn't know what's gotten into Law but it is both utterly distracting and absolutely enjoyable. Usually, Law is all about keeping things quiet and no one can know they are lovers, they have to behave like allies. But right now Law is the one with the arm around his shoulders, fingers playing with Zoro's earrings. Asking all those strangely pointed questions about his scar and the training he did with Hawkeye. Which Zoro would rather answer than let Shanks because his captain has a way of making it all sound so dirty when, honestly, he just spent two years training with Mihawk on his abandoned island.

But it's hard to articulate the details when Law keeps rolling his earrings between his fingers, giving light tugs as they pass from one digit to the next and then back again. (Zoro's mouth is so dry and there's no amount of sake that can wet it up again. )

Shanks makes it sound as if Hawkeye was walking around shirtless - which, sure, but that's just Hawkeye - making Zoro work up a sweat while watching his every move. Which is true but only because of training. He tries to correct the whole idea that Hawkeye looks at him like - to quote his captain - a tall glass of wine - but everything Shanks says just gets a frown and a, "Oh, really?" from Law who then pulls ever so slightly harder at his earrings. Scattering any thoughts Zoro managed to gather.

(Mihawk definitely has less than pure thoughts about Zoro, but Shanks might be purposefully making his friend out to be more of a pervert than necessary. Well, Miha, next time maybe don't return Zoro nearly cut in half and missing an eye!)

So meeting Shanks and Benn Beckmen, terrifying. But then he looks just about ready to fight Mihawk at first sight right about now. (Which isn't going to happen. Zoro has claimed that fight. He has dibs on beating Hawkeye.)

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thisisarcanereverie · 3 years

Text

What it Means to be Worthy (Thor x Reader)

ULTIMATE MASTERLIST

THERE IS SMUT IN HERE 18+ YOU THIRSTY SONS OF BITCHES.

WARNINGS: unprotected sex (wrap it up pals) Do NOT read unless you are 18+.

Also I have never written smut before so I hope it’s ok. I honestly couldn’t have written it if I hadn’t been listening to Deity by Valeree (highly recommend listening while reading the smut. It will probably make it better.)

“Thor,” you called the God of Thunder, “Thor it’s (Y/n).”

You heard a small grunt coming from the living room as you entered through the front door. You immediately went to cover your nose from the stench that invaded your senses upon entering.

It seemed as though the whole house smelled of rotten food, sweat, and something akin to a pigs feces. It was a smell that you never quite got used to, even after 2 years of smelling it every day.

You quietly made your way through the house until you saw a sight you were quite used to seeing now.

Thor on the ground, shirtless, covered in sweat and grime. His beard was filthy from vomit and dandruff and his hair greasy and matted to his head.

There had been a time where he cared so much about his hair that he got triggered if you had tried to trim it.

After 2 years of seeing this scene before you, it failed to surprise you.

Now it just angered you.

You knew you couldn’t understand the pain he was in, he lost his entire family, half his people, and Asgard.

Sure, the people of Midgard were generous and gave your people sanctuary, a place for your people to call home once again.

But that didn’t stop you from missing Asgard’s golden palace and it’s mountains of lush green forests. How you missed running with Thor and Loki through those forests after dark to get to the highest peak you could to watch the glittering of the gold during sunrise.

You had been playmates with the Princes since infancy. You had trained and fought alongside them in battle, joined them in celebrations after each conquest, mourned the loss of Frigga with them.

You went with Thor all those years ago to retrieve Loki and joined the Avengers with him.

But now the Avengers were gone, long since disbanded before the battle of Wakanda.

You weren’t angry at him, your anger was towards the cruel fate that had befallen your precious friends. You had cared for Loki, almost as much as Thor if not equal to.

If you were honest, you weren’t in better shape. Your grief had taken hold of you as well. Your kind smile had turned cynical. Anyone who tried to get close to you often was met with your icy glare and scoff.

Thor was the only one who brought out the caring person you once were.

With a deep sigh you expertly walked around the empty booze bottles and to the grieving man before you. Thor may have gotten soft around the middle but he weighed about the same as you slumped his arms around your shoulders. Thor groaned and went pale, his eyes barely opening.

“C’mon blondie,” you softly spoke, “let’s get you washed up.”

You half dragged the god to the bathroom, he threw up halfway there but you paid no mind. You would clean that after getting him in the shower.

You didn’t bother stripping him before setting him in the tub. Without warning or mercy you pointed the shower hose directly at his face and turned the water to icy cold.

Thor yelled at the icy feeling, borderline pleading, for you to turn off the water. However, over the course of 2 years the patience you had for him had worn thin and so you continued to spray until the stench subsided a little.

Thor was fully awake and sober now, seeing your figure as clear as day tower over him in the tub with a look on your face akin to a mother scolding a misbehaving child.

Thor felt so small and powerless under your gaze and he loathed it.

“You could have stopped a while ago.”

“This needs to stop Thor.”

Your hands motioned to him, Thor once admired those hands and the strength that they had. Now he just found them annoying.

He found you annoying.

You came by everyday and pulled him out of his stupor, clean up after him a little, and try to clean him up. You treated him like a child who couldn’t take care of himself and he loathed it so.

“I am King of Asgard you do not get to tell me what to do.”

“What King would wallow himself in such a way.”

He bolted upright and stood in the tub, successfully towering over your frame, you had gone too far. You didn’t get to say such things to him.

What Thor didn’t count on was the world getting fuzzy and a little dark when he stood up, so although he towered over you he was as stable as a wind chime.

You held onto his frame to prevent him from falling flat onto his face. You felt Thor stiffen under your touch.

You knew Thor was now sensitive and insecure in areas he never was before.

It seemed like yesterday that he was admiring himself in one of Asgard’s golden mirrors, his long hair had looked like spun gold in Asgard’s sunlight and his figure was that befitting of a god.

But none of that had ever mattered to you, even when Thor became full of himself to the point of him being ill tempered and arrogant, you couldn’t find it in yourself to ever give up on him.

Not that you tried to give up on him anyways.

Loki had asked you one day why you didn’t. Why didn’t you give up on the golden prince when he clearly would never feel the same way.

“I love him too much to be without him. Even if that means watching him parade himself around as a peacock and watch women fly to him like bees to honey.”

Then Thor was banished and the only reason why you didn’t follow was due to Loki’s intervening.

Then Thor met Jane Foster.

The memory of the beautiful scientist brought back bittersweet memories. You had never seen Thor so deep in love, and that made you both sad and happy.

Happy that he finally found someone who could keep him humble and who he loved just as much as you loved him.

Sad that when you often caught Thor daydreaming, that it wasn’t you he was daydreaming about.

You shook yourself out of your thoughts and sat the giant on the edge of the tub while you went to gather fresh clothes for him.

You gathered a simple sweatshirt and pants for him to pull on once he was finished with his shower.

As you set the clothes beside the sink you couldn’t help but feel the gnawing feeling in the deepest parts of your heart and the nagging thoughts in your head.

You knew that Thor was hellbent on this self destructive path and you knew that there was nothing you could possibly do to prevent it.

It was either you let Thor drown himself in his despair or you let him drown you with it as well.

You had accepted long ago that Thor would never see you as anything more than what you had always been.

His playmate since infancy.

The girl who got a starry look every time he entered a room.

You had saved up money from the jobs you had worked over the past 2 years, you finally saved up enough to get away from New Asgard. Leave its people to the hands of their self pitying King and Val.

It wasn’t like they needed you or the other way around.

No one would notice your absence.

You began to pick up around Thor’s home, recycling empty liquor bottles and trashing pizza boxes and rotted food. Vacuuming the carpets and dusting here and there.

This will be the last time you do as such.

You needed to leave, staying here and wallowing in Thor’s despair and depression as much as your own wasn’t good for you. And you knew deep down you had been enabling him, every time you cleaned his house and washed and fed him you knew that he only got worse and that you were supporting him when you did this.

You needed to leave for Thor’s sake as much as your own.

You wondered how long it would take him to notice.

You couldn’t bring yourself to tell Thor, you doubt he would even care at this point.

The walk back to your house was only a few minutes, having moved into the house closest to his in case of emergency.

Most of your things were packed and already in your apartment in New York waiting for you. Well things of value, the rest you had sold online, it was amazing what the internet could do. By far one of the greatest inventions on Midgard in your opinion.

All that was left to do was, pack a few pieces of clothing and toiletries.

And write a goodbye letter to Thor explaining where you went and why.

You had avoided writing it, not wanting to say goodbye. Not wanting Thor to not care.

It wasn’t like you were completely leaving Thor, Valkyrie (Val as you called her) assured you that she would make sure he didn’t starve or drink himself to an early grave.

You trusted her to make good on her promise.

You leaving wasn’t even your idea in the first place, Val had tried to get you to leave a year earlier, but you were too stubborn to leave then.

You grabbed the piece of stationary and began to write.

‘Thor,

By the time you're sober enough to read this I’ll already be gone. I don’t predict that I’ll be back.

Val will be making sure you don’t starve or drink yourself into an early grave in my place.

I just can’t do this anymore Thor.

I had loved you since we were but children running around the palace gardens, I still do. However I accepted the fact that you could never see me as anything more than your old playmate and dear friend so long ago.

I had tried to be by your side in a supporting role no matter how much it had hurt me.

When you became an arrogant ass I tried my hardest to explain away your tantrums.

When you came back from banishment I listened to you swoon over Lady Jane Foster with a smile on my face even though it tore me apart.

I had stayed with you, took care of you. It took me so long to realize that I had just been enabling you this entire time.

I had been supporting your self destructive behavior and I refuse to play that part any longer. I need to leave, not just for me but for you.

You need to sort through your emotions, you need to learn how to handle yourself by yourself. You need me not holding your hand when you do that.

I need to discover for myself what it means to be worthy-’

A loud pounding at your door disrupted your train of thought as you wrote. Normally no one would bother you, not unless it had to deal with Thor.

The floorboards creaked as you made your way to your door. The pounding had not ceased until you flew the door open to reveal Thor.

His hair was still damp from his shower and the sweats you had picked out were already stained from the beer he held in one hand. His sky blue eye was hidden behind dark shades.

“(Y/n),” Thor said, “I need a thing.”

“Thor right now isn’t a good time.”

“Don’t worry Lady (Y/n) it won’t take even a second I’ll be in and out.” Thor assured, flashing you a smile that could make your legs go weak. Despite how much hurt you were in you were still no match for Thor’s charms.

“What thing do you need?”

“Just a thing I’ll know the name of it when I see it.”

You stepped aside as you let Thor in, hoping that he won’t notice the lack of furniture or the note left on the table. You decided to let him be while you went and finished packing whatever was in the bathroom. After that you went back to the living area where you had left the note only to see Thor sitting on the couch, his fingers clenching the paper tightly. He had taken his shades off, the deep dark circles stood out against his skin a tribute to how tired he truly was.

He looked up and you were taken aback by the sorrow that filled his eyes. red rimmed the blue eye as fresh tears began to fall.

“You weren’t supposed to read that yet.”

“And when was I supposed to read it then?! When you were god knows where you will be!” His voice bellowed as tears continued to fall down his cheek.

“Thor please don’t yell.”

“No (Y/n)!” he cut you off, “you,” his finger pointed at you, his gaze as intense as lightning, “you don’t get to leave like this. You don’t get to leave me too.”

“Thor I don’t have a choice,” you argue, “I need to let you go. I need to find who I am without you and you need-”

“DO NOT TELL ME WHAT I NEED!”

You could hear thunder roaring in the distance outside, lightning danced around his fingers faintly. Thor had never scared you, but right now you were close to it.

“Thor,” you say calmly hoping somehow your calm tone will calm the God of Thunder, “I’m sorry for choosing the cowards way, I wanted to avoid this.”

“Did you truly think you would be able to avoid me for long.” The lightning had yet to cease but his eyes seemed to stop glowing ever so slightly.

“I didn’t think you would have noticed for at least a few days.”

“Why would you think I wouldn’t notice immediately?” He asked like it was the most incredulous question. He took a step closer to you while you took a step back. Thunder still roared outside and lightning still curled around his fingers. Thor furrowed his eyes in confusion until he finally seemed to hear the thunder storm outside and realize he had scared you.

Thor had scared you.

Immediately the pain in his chest worsened with the guilt that he had scared you. That he had so little control over his powers when he was so emotional. Slowly he closed his eyes and he took a deep breath in and out. He then felt his powers subside and the thunder had stopped.

You could see his shoulders hunch forward with shame and you instictivly placed a hand over his shoulder to comfort him. Thor was quick to envelop your hand with his. Holding onto your hand for dear life.

Your eyes then met, closer than you had ever been before.

“What thing were you looking for?” you asked softly, “you said you came over for a thing.”

“I lied,” Thor admitted softly, “I just didn’t want to be alone.”

The next thing you knew was the faint taste of beer and blueberries on your lips and strong, calloused hands making their way to your shoulders.

Thor was just as good a kisser as you imagined. Lips moving expertly over your own, moving against yours so desperately. Like a man dying of thirst.

You knew you should push him off of you, but for one second you wanted to enjoy his lips on yours. Kissing you like you had always wanted to kiss him.

You moved your lips against his, relishing every moment. Because you knew you wouldn’t be able to kiss him again.

Only when Thor's hands traveled to your waist did you break away. Albeit, you couldn’t push him further than just enough to give you some breathing space.

“Thor,’ you said, “you’re drunk you don’t want this.”

‘When will you stop telling me what I want and don’t want.” His lips moved from your lips to the corner of your mouth and slowly made their way to your neck.

“Thor I do not want this if your reasoning is impaired.”

“I appreciate the thought dear one, but I only had half a beer tonight.”

Asgardians could handle their booze well, especially Thor. For Thor to be the least bit intoxicated he would have had to drink 3 large bottles of Asgardian booze. However, when it came to Midgard it took 4 large barrows of Midgardian beer for it to have the same effect on him. Thor mostly drank it for the taste.

“Unless you would rather I stop.” Thor said, before his hands had removed themselves from your waist you stopped them.

With every ounce of passion in you, you grabbed a handful of his long hair and pressed your lips to his.

It was a mess of passionate and needy kisses and moans. Thor’s battle-worn hands had roamed over your body in a desperate need to feel you.

He was quick to rid you of your shirt, hands feeling every inch of naked skin as he could. Holding you like you were the only thing keeping him grounded to the earth.

You moaned as his hands found your breasts, his large hands covering them over your bra. Your hands made quick work with your bra, removing the suffocating fabric before lifting Thor’s shirt.

you felt him stiffen as you rid him of his shirt.

He wasn’t as muscular as he had been 2 years ago, however it took more than 2 years to completely diminish what his body had been. Although his stomach had softened as well as his arms. You didn’t care in the slightest, loving Thor in every shape he came in.

Your hands lovingly brushed over his torso as you began to leave open mouthed kisses down his neck, over his chest, it wasn’t until you were at the waistband on his sweatpants did he bring you back up and kissed you with fiery passion.

Thor laid you in front of the fireplace that you forgot you lit a while ago. Honestly a little surprised that the fire was still going.

You didn’t have much time to think about that as you felt Thor’s lips travel from your neck and over your breasts. Your nails scratched the floor beneath you as you felt him at the waistband of your jeans.

You felt Thor pause and you looked at him.

“Are you sure dear one?”

Your heart melted at the new nickname, as you nodded to him. However that wasn’t enough for the blonde adonis as he traveled up your body and littered your neck in open mouth kisses.

“I need to hear you say you want this dear one.”

“Please Thor,” you pleaded as he ground his hips into yours slowly, your hips meeting his as his pace slows even more successfully driving you insane.

“I need you Thor.”

“What do you need dear one?”

“I need you to finish what we started.”

With that Thor slammed his lips on yours as he rid you of your pants, underwear included. He leaned back and his eyes drank in your figure illuminated by the fire light. You were breathtaking, any one would buckle at the sight of you.

Pride swelled in Thor’s heart as this view was reserved for him only.

Just as you were about to say something you felt Thor’s beard tickle the inside of your thigh and without warning Thor dived in.

Your hands immediately flew to his hair and grabbed fists full of it, anything to tether you to reality.

As Thor worked his magic on your bundle of nerves your moans filled the empty house. Thor moaned as your grip on his hair tightened which sent waves of pleasure throughout your body. Thor lifted your legs over his shoulders and gripped your thighs firmly as his tongue worked faster.

Just as you were about to reach your blissful release you felt him pull away. Your arousal practically dripped from his lips onto his beard.

He rid himself of the last piece of clothing before capturing your lips once again. Unlike the kisses from before, this was gentle and sweet. You could taste yourself on his lips as he tenderly kissed you.

You slowly ran your hands over his chest, committing him to memory.

Thor pulled away from your lips as he entered you.

Your mouth let out a silent scream of pleasure as Thor let out a shaky breath of pleasure. Thor waited for a few seconds, relishing in the feeling of you around him before finally moving his hips against yours.

Thor was soft and slow in his thrusts, making sure to worship every part of you. His lips were everywhere, from your face to your breasts.

You met in time with his thrusts. The only sound in the room being your shaky breaths, moans of pleasure, and skin on skin. And it sounded like a chorus to you.

Thor’s thrusts became erratic and unyielding, the knot in your stomach was on the verge of bursting when Thor whispered in your ear.

“Let go dear one, I’ll catch you.”

With that the knot had become undone, leaving your body shaking from the overwhelming pleasure.

Thor had not been too far behind you before he too reached his climax.

Thor laid down beside you, still coming down from his high. You laid your head on his chest and he instinctively wrapped his arms around you.

This was everything you had ever wanted, to lay beside Thor with his arm beside you. Well almost everything.

As Thor began to play with the ends of your head as you replayed the past two years in your head.

“I think you may have been right.” Thor broke the silence, you lifted your head off his chest to see his gaze distant as he stared at the ceiling.

“When have I ever been anything otherwise.”

Thor’s chest rumbled in laughter as unshed tears began to fill his eyes. He refused to cry, not now.

“I agree that you need to leave dear one.” Thor’s voice cracked, “I have become a pitiful king to my people, but I have been an even worse friend to you.” his eyes left their place on the ceiling and rested on your face. “You have been faithfully by my side ever since either of us could remember. You had defended me when I didn’t deserve it and loved me when no one did. Not even myself.” His calloused hand caressed your cheek, thumb brushing the tears that had escaped your eyes away. “you don’t deserve to drown in my despair with me. You deserve a life of adventure and you deserve the time to figure out who you are.” You pressed your forehead to his as tears leaked out. “I need to let you go.”

---

Thor had spent the night committing every touch and every scent to memory. He had no idea when his feelings for you grew to such lengths but he knew now that he had figured it out much too late.

He wasn’t the man you deserved by your side.

Thor waved you off at the airport and watched as the metal contraption took you away from his side for the first time since his banishment all those years ago.

He hoped that if you returned he would be a man worthy of you again.

Thor only wished he knew where to start.

#thor #thor ragnarok #thor love and thunder #thor mcu #MCU #mcu x reader #mcu thor #thor x reader #x reader #thor smut #god of thunder #marvel x reader #marvel x you #marvel x reader smut #loki

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poetrusicperry · 3 years

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Running Towards Nothing

Chapter One

a/n: hello !! @noelliza and i fleshed out an idea about if todd came from out of state (specifically, somewhere in the southern united states) to attend welton, so i wrote it heh. i’m not sure how many parts this will be (if people like it enough for me to continue posting lol), but i have the first like... five written haha. so yes, todd is from the south (alabama) and i don’t know much about the south bc i'm from the west coast, but i tried haha. hope you guys like it !! xx

chapter summary: something in todd’s past is the reason for his family’s move, leading to a new neighborhood, a new school, a roommate he was never expecting, and an overall shift in his life.

pairing: todd anderson x neil perry

warnings: none (i don’t think there are any in this chapter, but if anyone spots something, let me know !)

word count: 2479

–

If there was one thing Todd missed about home, it was the sky; the sun set differently over the rolling hills of Vermont than the grassy fields of Alabama. He was used to seeing all of the elongated, blue canvas sky that melted into bright shades of pink and orange along the horizon; there was nothing in the way of the creation, just a plain view of where the heavens met the earth. In the northeast, however, the sunset snagged on the seemingly-black pointed edges of trees and lush branches, interrupting the gradient leaving only soft blue and speckles of marigold.

But he had experienced his last Alabama sunset two days ago, and there was no going back. Not for a really, really long time (if ever). After the events of the past few months, there was no way Todd could ever show his face again, even if he really wanted to. Now, Todd Anderson and his family were living in the suburbs of Vermont, where, as his parents hoped, the past would stay hidden and they could build a new façade for the one Todd had recently, though unintentionally, demolished.

As Todd sat on the floor of his new, empty room, surrounded only by boxes and his bed (which didn’t have a box spring or frame yet), he gazed out of his window forlornly. Through the toothbrush-tipped trees that were jam packed along his new horizon, he could make out the silhouette of a church’s steeple. One that, no doubt, would be frequented by his mother and father while his brother, Jeffrey, was out of state at college, and Todd himself attended the prep school just a few blocks down the road. Out of all the cities in Vermont, Todd’s parents had picked the one with the lowest population and tourist pull, which meant not a lot of people inhabiting the city. However, on the flipside, there wasn’t a wide variety of schools to choose from. Back in Alabama, Todd had attended his local public high school, Nixon, and would have been an incoming senior there if certain... events hadn’t occurred. Instead, Todd was now forced to continue his education at what was deemed “the best all boys prep school in the United States” by his parents and surrounding boarding schools (no pressure).

Todd’s mind wandered through the recent weeks, pulling apart everything that had happened like rotten cotton candy. This was his life now: a new state, a new town, a new school, brand new everything. And yet, Todd felt stuck between wanting to start over and aching to hold onto his old life. If those five seconds could have gone differently, he’d be preparing for his first day of senior year with all his friends at Nixon. But his friends would never speak to him again, and he’d never walk the halls of Nixon High School ever again. Todd wondered what he could possibly be holding onto? There was nothing in a place he considered home and nothing in a new place that would likely never be home. So much of his past, he wanted to leave behind, but he just… knew that he couldn’t.

As he reached into the open box beside him, there was a knock on the door. When Todd didn’t answer, the door cracked open, revealing the familiar face of his older brother.

“Hey, I was going to go on a drive around town, maybe see some of the cool hangout spots if you wanted to come. I know I’m leaving for school in a couple weeks, but might as well check out some places anyway?”

Jeff always had a way of talking to Todd gently, never with any hints of condescension in his tone. After all, Jeff was the only person in the house who ever acknowledged Todd’s existence. And after everything that had happened, Todd was certain he was no closer to gaining support from his parents than a couple months prior; in fact, he’d been quite sure he was further from garnering any cent of respect, let alone support.

“Oh, uh… right now?” Todd spoke, barely above a whisper. He knew he didn’t need to feel embarrassed or nervous around Jeff, but that’s just how things were for him now. Anything he said or did felt… wrong, and he didn’t know how to fix it.

“Yeah, I think Mom and Dad went to pick up some dinner, so I was just thinking that we could head out for a few minutes. Maybe get a little familiar with town and stuff,” Jeff smiled at Todd, his perfectly straight teeth somehow still gleaming in the darkening light of Todd’s room, “Come on, I know you probably don’t feel up to it, but it’d be better than sitting in here while it progressively gets darker,” Jeff attempted to joke, laughing slightly.

Todd gave him a half smile, half grimace, “Alright. Think I need a jacket?”

“Want to drive with the top down, so probably,” Jeff smiled, smacking the doorway and turning down the hallway, “Leaving in five!” he called down the hall as he went.

While they rode leisurely around town, Todd kept his head mostly turned to the side, leaning his cheek on his arm and taking in all the things they drove past. Lots of houses on moderate pieces of land lined the streets; they were nothing like the spacious farms and open pastures of Alabama. Up until recently, Todd had always considered the south home. But truth be told, he wasn’t sure what home was anymore.

“Oh, sweet, Todd, look! There’s an arcade!” Jeff patted Todd’s shoulder with the back of his hand as he cruised down the street. The big neon lights were hanging over a brick building spelling “GAMES & POOL.” It looked like the marquees Todd had seen of New York City in the magazines. He just nodded at his brother’s sentiment as they pulled up to the red light. Glancing up at the bright sign once more, his gaze was torn away when the door to the arcade opened, revealing five lanky boys spilling out onto the sidewalk.

“I told you I was going to beat the high score and you punks didn’t believe me!” one with sandy hair said, walking backwards and facing his friends. His face was twisted into a mischievous grin and his voice ricocheted across the street as the boys seemed to be making their way to the movie theatre a few doors down.

“Charlie, no one cares that you beat the high score,” the tallest one replied; Todd noticed he had a flattop haircut, which is something no one in Alabama would have ever had; Todd thought it looked neat. The flattop’s sentiment earned a chuckle from all the boys, but a particularly loud laugh from a tall, dark-haired boy standing toward the front of the group. He wore beige slacks and a tucked in red flannel with black and white hi-top Chuck Taylor’s. And Todd noticed his dimples were deep into his cheeks while he laughed. As the boys walked down the sidewalk to the theatre ticket vestibule, the light turned green and Jeff began to drive. As the car passed the group, the dark-haired boy looked up and locked eyes with Todd.

“Neil, still five for Gidget?” the ginger one with glasses said. The dark-haired boy (who Todd could now assume was Neil) held Todd’s gaze for a couple more seconds before tearing his eyes away and nodding at his friend. Todd’s cheeks were ablaze as Jeff drove further away. Trying to not move his head, Todd simply looked back at the boys in the side mirror until they were simply blobbed figures standing under the light of the theatre.

When Todd and Jeff arrived home, their parents’ car was in the driveway, and the light in the kitchen was on.

“Hope you’re hungry,” Jeff turned to Todd as he switched the engine off. He just looked at Jeff blankly; his appetite had still not returned, so he didn’t feel hungry much anymore, “I know I am,” Jeff smiled, ruffling Todd’s hair and easing the tension between them. He nodded a little bit and opened the door, Jeff doing the same. As Jeff made his way up the steps, Todd trailed behind him, not wanting to be the first person his parents saw.

“Jeffy, is that you?” his mother’s voice called from the kitchen.

“Yeah, Mom, we just went to check out the neighborhood a bit,” Jeff called, slowing his pace, falling into step with Todd and slinging his arm around his little brother’s shoulder.

“Dinner’s on the table, dear,” she replied as the boys walked into the dining room.

“Smells good, Ma,” Jeff smiled, taking his seat at the table after patting Todd’s shoulder. Todd sat down tentatively and stared at the spread in front of him. His parents had gotten KFC for the second night in a row, and Todd was about as excited as he was the first time (that being not at all).

“I know we had it last night, but it really just reminds me of the food back home,” his mother said, pulling her napkin into her lap.

“You boys eat up, now,” his father said, gesturing to the bucket of chicken and sides in front of the pair. Jeff grabbed his food, and took extra care to offer Todd all of the things he picked up for himself. While their parents busied themselves in a conversation about the pie their neighbors had dropped off, Jeff nudged Todd lightly,

“Look, I know you’re not hungry, but have a biscuit at least, okay?” he muttered and held one out to his younger brother. Todd took it hesitantly, put it in the middle of his plate, and stared at it, “Come on, Todd. Please,” Jeff mumbled again.

“What’s that, Jeffrey?” his father turned to him.

“Oh, nothing, Pop, just telling Todd to have some dinner,” Jeff smiled small. Todd’s father looked at him with disgust.

“Eat,” he grunted. At the timbre of his father’s voice, Todd flinched slightly and picked off a part of the biscuit to nibble on while the conversation turned to Jeff’s plans for the fall semester. Fading into the background (as usual), Todd tuned out the conversation and focused really hard on his white Chuck Taylor’s, getting a flash of the tall, dark-haired boy’s face in his mind. Neil. Shaking his head slightly, Todd adjusted his gaze to the plate in front of him and waited for another painful dinner to end.

When the summer had wound down and the weeks in Vermont had become more familiar, Todd’s parents had busied themselves with getting Jeff ready for dorm move-in and paying little, if any, attention to Todd. Currently, Todd was up in his room, preparing for convocation the next day. Jeffrey had left the past Thursday, driving up on his own. He had told Todd to not take everything so seriously and to do the best he could (because he knew that Todd was capable of a lot of things). He also mentioned that he was just a call away if Todd ever needed anything (he wrote his telephone number onto a scrap of paper). Todd had searched the arcade and the theatre a couple times in the hopes of running into the group of boys he had seen on their second night in town, but to no avail.

Sitting in front of the mirror, Todd analyzed himself. His hair had grown out kind of long, and his mother hadn’t taken him to get it cut, so he’d have to deal with that, but everything else looked normal. Things certainly didn’t feel normal, but he was used to the discomfort by now. The only thing he was truly worried about was his stupid accent. He’d spent the last few weeks hanging around diners and spots with Jeff, and hadn’t heard a single southern accent. He knew his drawl would just make him appear stupid to all these super educated kids, so he’d put a lot of effort into controlling it. He was actually doing okay at it, he just needed to make sure he didn’t slip up. Todd didn’t need any aspect of his personality or appearance to be called attention to. He got up from the floor and crawled into bed, dreading what the next day and year would bring.

Convocation turtled by, two hours of sitting in a church pew and listening to some headmaster spout of statistics that Todd didn’t care about. As far as he was concerned, he wanted to finish his senior year and get the hell out of here; Todd had always wanted to go to California, but his parents told him it was a pipe dream (“After the stunt you pulled in Alabama, we won’t be funding your college anywhere!” his father had yelled).

“Ah, Mr. Anderson, is it?” the headmaster questioned when it was Todd’s turn to be introduced after the ceremony.

“U-uh, yes sir,” he mumbled.

“Well, we don’t normally take public school transfers, but you will fit in well here. Any major problems you let me know,” he shook Todd’s hand rather harshly.

“Thank you, sir,” he nodded and moved along.

Feeling his chest start to tighten, Todd made his way out onto the grass where he sat down against a tree and waited for his parents. After an uncomfortable and awkward goodbye with them, he roamed the grounds a little bit, practicing his newly-fashioned accent quietly to himself. As he rounded a corner to the courtyard, he bumped shoulders with a boy, and turned to apologize, dead-set on making his southern accent unknown (or as unknown as it could be).

“Ope- sorry about that,” the boy laughed nervously. When Todd looked up at him, it was the boy from outside the arcade all those weeks ago. Shit.

“S-sorry,” Todd mumbled. The boy nodded a little bit.

“It’s all good. I’m Neil Perry,” he smiled, holding out his hand, seemingly unaware or forgetting of the fact that they’d seen each other before.

“Todd Anderson,” he manipulated his tongue to sit flatter in his mouth, so as not to let slip his Alabaman background. He had trouble looking into Neil’s eyes, but when he got a good look, he realized they were dark, dark brown and incredibly deep.

“Oh, that’s you? I think that makes us roommates,” Neil said, patting Todd on the shoulder. Oh no, Todd thought, his cheeks flushing. Stop it, he thought to himself and cleared his throat.

“Oh… cool,” Todd nodded a little bit and pursed his lips.

“I gotta get going. See you soon!” he patted Todd’s shoulder again and took off in the direction he had been going when Todd bumped into him.

Yep, Todd sighed. This is going to be a long year.

tagging some people (especially those of you who said i should post this heh): @queertoddanderson @babytoddanderson @cupiiid @justarandompjofan @charliedaltonofficial @pretentious-strikes @aedan-mills

and a big thank you to @noelliza as always bc she’s the best and reads all my stuff before i even think about putting it anywhere on the internet lol <3

#dead poets society #anderperry #neil perry and todd anderson #todd anderson #neil perry #angelina writes

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winter-fox-queen · 3 years

Text

We All Deserve a Fairy Tale Chapter 5

Warnings: Here be smut, my loves. Minors be gone, because it is explicit. First time writing smut, so I hope it works.

Frankie x female blank slate, use of first person. I think there is cursing.

Frankie ghosts you, then something happens to change it…

Thanks to @sharkbait77 and @hnt-escape If you want on my tag list, tell me. :)

I waited a week. A week and a half. And I broke down, finally, and texted.

Got the edits back for my next book. I hate this part.

After a moment, a reply. You got this.

Hope? Maybe? Or was he just being nice?

I responded anyway.

Maybe we can go out and see that movie tonight? Have dinner? A little fun before I chain myself to the computer?

No response.

I waited a day, but my stomach churned the whole time.

I texted again, after getting myself good and wound up. You don’t owe me any explanations. But please respect me enough not to ghost me. You’re not interested in me, that’s fine. But don’t leave me dangling. You’re better than that.

I hit send, regretted it immediately.

Your right. What’s your address?

“Shit. Shit. What have I done?” I whispered as I typed it to him.

About five away. K?

Yeah. Thanks.

I ran back inside the house and straightened myself up. Military minutes must be shorter than civilian minutes because I heard him pull up sooner than I was ready.

I went outside, to the back yard. I waved at him, half heartedly. He shoved his hands in his pockets and came over.

“Hey.” He gave me a soft smile. Everything about him was guarded. OK. Well, I asked him to come over and officially tell me to take a hike, so, I guess I deserved it.

“Frankie, I…”

“No. I, uh.” He looked at the ground between our feet. It was more dirt than grass. “Man, you weren’t kidding about this place being a wasteland.”

I laughed despite the rock in my gut.

He looked up at me, a little sideways. “Let me say my piece and go, OK?”

I hugged myself, and nodded.

“I like you.” He said so quietly that I had to lean closer to hear him. “Like you more than I’ve liked anyone for a long time. And I mean that. But wanting you in my life doesn’t mean I get to. I’ve killed — “

I started to object, say something about the army and of course he did and he did what he had to…

He saw it and said, firmly, “No.”

I closed my mouth and he nodded. “No. I’m talking about…less than a year ago. Some friends and I went on a mission. We said it was to help stop a major drug dealer but it was just…” He’s breathing a little heavier, now. Unable to look at me, rubbing the palms of his hands on his thighs.

“People died.” He looks at me, then, the anguish in his eyes, the guilt. “My own fucking actions lead to one of my best friends getting killed. If I hadn’t taken that shot. If I hadn’t wrecked the fucking chopper…”

He steps forward and takes my hands in his. They’re clammy, shaking. “The mail you saw, it was a reminder. My friend’s widow, she’s angry and looking for answers and she doesn’t want any of us to be happy. And she’s right.”

I try to find words. I feel like I’m in a cave in, trying to scramble over rocks and debris.

“I don’t deserve to be happy, and I don’t deserve you.” He touches my cheek for a second, a butterfly landing and running away. “I’m gonna go now, I’m gonna block your number.”

He kisses me. His lips are hot. When he steps back, I say, “So you’re not going to give me a choice?”

“Why would you want one?” His voice is incredulous. There’s an echo, under his words, I can see it in his eyes, in the frustrated way he throws his hands out. Why would you want me?

I shook my head. “You say you like me, but you want to close yourself off? Not give me a chance to get to know you, help you if I can?”

“It’s for the best. You see that, right?” There’s a desperate edge.

I shake my head. Everything that can possibly hurt does. I’m supposed to be so good at words, and I can’t find the right ones, the ones to reel him back in.

He adjusts his hat. “No, you don’t. I love your books, but they are fairy tales. You can’t make a good man out of a monster. It’s not how the world works.”

“You’re not a monster.”

He’s all twitchiness now, looking at his truck, desperate to get out of this situation. It makes me mad, how badly he wants to go. How I know I can’t fix this. “Don’t bother blocking my number.” I say, as I turn on my heel. “I won’t bother you again.”

He whispers my name and it is so pained that I almost turn around. But I don’t.

***

I don’t block his number. I can’t. I focus on work. My job that lets me eat work. My book. My hands shake on the keyboard, sometimes, as I try to make the story mine again. It’s hard to write a love story, even one with murder and mystery, when your own heart is broken.

It was ridiculous. I didn’t even know him that long, but the loss of him hurt. It made the story feel pointless. What right did I have to sell these lies? To make people believe in love and romance and happily ever after when you can meet someone so amazing and wonderful, and have to watch him walk away?

I kept working. I’d get over it. I had to. It’s not like I’d built anything with him. I was just aching for the possibilities — the things I tortured myself about. The things I imagined I m might have lost, with Frankie.

And damn it, I missed him.

But life continues. And sink faucets wear out, making you have to run to the local home improvement store, wandering the isles with an armload of new faucet, fittings, plumbers tape and everything else the YouTube videos I’d consulted said I would need.

The universe has decided that I have not suffered enough, because I can see him, Frankie Morales in the flesh, frowning at the back of a box like its his greatest enemy. He was in the home security section.

I could sneak by. He was way too interested in what he was holding in those lovely, large hands of his. I dashed by, head down, determined to just get past him, but some lady with a cart pushed past me at the same time, and my arm load of stuff got jostled. I was able to save the most expensive bit — the faucet in its box, the long flexible connection thingies — but the plumbers tape, in its plastic hard shell donut jumped out, fell onto the floor, and rolled right over to a well worn work boot. Spun like a top. Settled right against his toe. I looked up, too nervous to enjoy the view (much) and right into his eyes. His lips were parted, like he was a little surprised to see me.

“Hey.” I said, and then, because I didn’t know what else to do, I turned and fled back the way I came. I knew where the plumbers tape was, I could just go get another…

“Hey. Wait a second.”

I stopped, took a breath, smiled like everything was perfectly normal.

He held up the white plastic Judas. “Um…your faucet break?” And then he winced. “I mean, obviously. Um.” He placed the tape on top of my pile delicately. He was holding a box in both hands tight enough to warp the cardboard.

“It’s old. I thought I would try my hand at replacing it…can’t be that hard.”

“No, but plumbing can be really picky if you’ve never done it…”

“Don’t offer.” I whisper it desperately, before I can even think about it. I can tell he’s working himself up to it, and the thought of him in my house is like a punch ion the guts.

“It wouldn’t be a problem.” His dark eyes study my face. Sad. A little desperate. For a second I think, maybe he misses me, too.

“No. I got it.” I say softly, looking at the floor again.

“Do you still have my number? If you change your mind?”

I nod at the container. “Go back to your project, Frankie. I can handle this on my own.”

Did you know, plumbing is an utter bitch?

Throw in some more curse words in the last sentence. I certainly used every one I could.

Two hours later, I get a text.

Frankie: How did it go?

I want to sob. Instead, I put myself together and write a fairly moderate response:

Me: I have decided that I will now do my dishes in the bathroom sink. Who needs a sink in the kitchen? A total waste.

Frankie: The offer is still open?

Me: How did you know? Did you just look at me and think, she is too inept to be able to do this herself?

Frankie: No. I don’t think that at all.

Frankie: Let me help? Please?

Me: Since you said please, I guess I can allow you to come rescue me.

Frankie: OMW.

I looked at the time, and decided to order pizza. It was only fair.

Twenty minutes later he’s under the sink. “You did a good job. I think maybe you just cross threaded it…”

“Oh, no…did I ruin the threads?”

“It’s probably OK. I’ll just use a lot of tape…”

And he does some magical things with a wrench and the bright pink tape, which he wraps around the threads to make them more water tight. I try not to admire his long legs or the rest of him, spread out on my kitchen floor, as he half lays in the bottom of the sink.

The doorbell rings, and I go pay for the pizza, and when I come back he’s turned on the water, and he’s kneeing in front of the open sink bottom, using a paper towel to see if he can find any leaks.

“It looks OK?” I ask tentatively.

“Yep…you really did have it done mostly. Just that one spot.”

“Thanks,” I say awkwardly. “I bought us dinner?”

“You are awesome.” He does a quick but of clean up so he can shut the sink doors and washes his hands in the newly repaired sink. He tosses his hat onto the end of the island, and I want to run my fingers through his hair. He does it for me, absentmindedly pushing the hair off his forehead.

We sit on either side of my kitchen island, sharing pizza. I don’t know what to say.

“It’s a nice apartment.” He said quietly, picking up another slice.

“It’s cheap, not far from my day job. It works.” I shove a hunk of crust in my mouth to stop myself from saying anything else. I knew this would be bad. Here he is, sitting a few inches away. I could touch him, but I’m not allowed. It’s a rotten feeling, wanting something and not being allowed to have it. To feel his fingers wrap around mine. To have that easy, happy camaraderie again.

“What are you thinking?” I ask, when the silence gets too much.

He shakes his head. Wads up his napkin. Puts his plate in the sink. Locates the trash. Such a good guest.

“I shouldn’t have come. But I wanted to see you.” He said this quietly, as if he isn’t sure he should admit it.

“Well, if you hadn’t, I’d still be under the sink wondering why the damned fittings are still leaking.”

He gives me a gentle smile. “You would have been ok.”

“Lucky I didn’t block your number, huh?”

He smiles and kneels down, picking up tools and putting them back in the box. Sorting his from mine.

“It was nice of you to come help me? I might be a bit snarky, but I really am grateful for the help.”

“I was happy to. Where do you keep these?” I took my tools off him, put them and the plumber’s tape in my tool drawer.

“But why? Why were you happy to help? Why did you want to see me? You couldn’t leave here quickly enough the other day…” I smile to take the sting out. “Not that I blame you, the yard is a hot mess.”

He touches my face gently. “Hush.” I stop my babbling, lean into his touch.

“You asked me a question, awhile back.” I muzzle his hand. “I never got to answer it.”

“What was that?”

“You asked me if I wanted you. And I do. Very much.”

He made a huffing sound, as if he had been gut punched, and then, slowly, slowly, leaned in and kissed me. “I miss you,”. He whispers between kisses, his hands framing my face like I’m a delicate thing. “I miss you when I wake up. I miss you when I lay down to sleep. I miss you when I’m driving.” And each sentence he punctuates, gently, with a kiss, to my forehead, to my nose, to my mouth. “I barely know you, but you are already woven into my thoughts…”

I’m holding him tight, kissing him back. I bump my nose against his, sweetly, and I saw, “Then why? Why stay away?”

He pulls back as far as I’ll let him, sits down again. I see the ghosts in his eyes again, and I remember the lyrics from a song I used to love, “There’s ghosts in your eyes, they cry when you smile…”

“I shouldn’t have come…I’m a train wreck waiting to happen.”

“No, not if you’re just going to push me away again. That’s cruel. I never thought you’d be cruel, Francisco Morales.”

He winces like I punched him.

“If it’s too soon to tell me, that’s fine. Just push it aside until you trust me. Or until it matters. I don’t care about your past, what you’ve done. I know you well enough to know you did what you had to do at the time.” I give in to the longing to touch him, I run my fingers lightly through the curls at his temple before letting my hand drop. He’s watching me like a landmine he’s stepped on. His fingers ghost over my hips. Grip them gently. Pulls me between his thighs. Now it’s my turn to be wary, as he pulls me close. His dark, liquid eyes study my face, I can almost hear him weighing and sorting. Lay your secrets on me, beautiful man. I want to tell him. But I wait. I wait until his large hands encompass me, run over my waist, the softness over my ribs, glide up the sides of my breasts so softly I am not even sure he touched me, to cup my face.

“I want to be who you think I am,” he says, and I smile gently.

A decision is made, in those fathomless eyes. And he leans close, and he kisses me again. The last kisses were loving. This kiss is passionate. Deep. So full of longing I could cry. I let my lips part and his tongue traces, licks inside. I make a little sound and grab his wrists, pushing them aside so I can wrap my arms around him, if I could meld myself to him, I would have then, melted inside of him like gold, fixing his cracks.

He stands, the stool scraping against the floor. The sound is jarring, lifts me out of the lust sodden moment. “If you want me, baby, you have me,” he says in that rough honey voice of him. “Show me the way.”

I take one of his hands in both of mine, I kiss each knuckle. I’d been playing with the idea, and now here I was. I could still say no. I could slow things down, I could be sensible.

But I’d never wanted anything so deeply, so profoundly, as I wanted him. Every time I touched his skin, I felt like something lost had been returned to me.

I smiled a little at him, and backed away, pulling him with me. “This way, sweetheart.”

His lips are on mine the second we cross into my bedroom. Once Frankie Morales makes a decision, he is all in. His hand cups the back of my head, holding me so he can kiss me, his tounge sliding against mine as his other hand slips under my shirt. I pull back and tug at his shirt. “Off.” I command, and he grins and sheds it. My shirt and my bra join it on the floor. I press my breasts to the warm smoothness of his chest. I run my hands over his ribs, his stomach, as his mouth claims mine again. His skin is soft and warm, strong muscles flexing under my hands. I kiss along his jawline, I lick and kiss the constellation of freckles on the side of his neck. He moans softly in approval as I nip and kiss my way to his shoulder.

His own hands slip up to my breasts, weighing them in his hands, squeezing gently. He runs his thumb over one nipple, then bends to lick the other into his mouth, sucking gently, his tounge flicking at the hard peak. His freehand is splayed against the small of my back, holding me in place. Pleasure shoots through me, and all I can do is cling to him. He lets me go and pushes me gently. I fall back onto my bed, tearing at the button on my pants, needing to get everything off, needing to feel his skin, his warmth, his strength and softness.

“Condoms?” He asks, one knee on the bed. “I didn’t think…”

I shook my head. “I’m on the pill?”

His eyes darken further, and he asks, “Are you sure?”

I nod and hold out my arms, and he gives me the sweetest smile. He stands up again and undoes his pants, sliding them off, and he’s naked and beautiful and I just want him wrapped around me. He slips into my arms and kisses me again, his arms holding him over me. He gives me a little of his weight, grounding me. It feels so good, skin sliding against skin, warmth against warmth,

His slips a hand between us, and I clench at the thought of him touching me just as he slides two thick fingers between my folds, rubbing my clit gently, exploring me. “So wet.” He whispers, kissing my temple. “So soft.” He kisses the tip of my nose. “So hot.” And his takes my lips again, his fingers rubbing my clit, making me shake with building pleasure. “I want to taste you, sweetheart. I want to make you come on my tounge…can I, baby?”

I nod. I don’t know who can resist that voice, rough with lust and promise? He kisses his way down and I spread my legs wider, and he gently licks — a test lick, from my entrance to my clit. He licks my clit, hard, with short licks before drawing me into his mouth and sucking me. He is fervent, as he works, and I can’t think about anything but the heat of his mouth. As the pressure and pleasure builds, I’m making the most needy sounds, unable to control myself. His slips one finger in, then a second, exploring, touching, then another, stretching and reaching for that spot. The rippling explosion leaves me shamelessly arching into his mouth, crying out his name like a prayer.

“That’s it, baby,” he praises, kissing the inside of my thigh, rubbing his beard against the soft skin.

He comes up to kneel between by thighs. His eyes meet mine as I struggle to compose myself, and his hand gently comes up to very gently lay across my throat, his thumb tracing my chin.

“Are you sure? Where do you want me to come?”

I nod frantically. “Please, baby, I want you. Inside me, please…”

His hand slips away from my throat to rest on the bed above my shoulder, and I miss the warmth of it as he gently strokes my skin, settling his hand on my thigh. He takes his cock into his hand, stroking it before rubbing it against my clit, causing me to whimper. He runs the head of it up and down a few times, his eyes slipped closed, his jaw going slack, that lush lower lip parting. I wish I had a picture…he was beautiful. Skin made gold by the fading light, thighs splayed under mine. I felt the head of his cock in my entrance, and he pressed in, a slow hot stretch until he was sheathed completely.

“Oh, fuck.” He whispered. “You feel so good. So fucking good.”

He lowered himself back on top of me. “You feel so huge inside me, baby,” I whisper in his ear. “You feel like heaven. Please…fuck me, honey. Please…” And he started moving, slow at first, the changing the angle and speeding up. With every thrust he pressed against something that felt so good…I was seeing the proverbial stars as he gasped in my ear, making soft sounds of pleasure every time he slammed home. I nipped at his shoulder, and he was looking down at me, dark eyes studying me.

“Frankie, I…I can’t think, I don’t know what to do…”

“Don’t think. Just let me take care of you. It’s all I want to do…” He captures my mouth in a sloppy kiss. “Just let go.”

And I do. I cry out his name as he continues to move, the friction making my high last. He speeds up, and I cup his face in shaking hands.

“You’re so beautiful. I want to feel you come, Frankie, honey, come for me.”

He moved to kiss the palm of my hand, then his eyes squeeze shut as he finds his own release. I can feel it, spilling hot inside of me. I welcome him as he lowers himself down completely, unable to stay up on his forearms any longer. He tried to shift off, but I cling to him. I welcome his weight. His strength.

I don’t want to let go. I never want to let him go.

#frankie morales x reader #Frankie Morales #frankie catfish morales #frankie morales x you #frankie morales x f!reader #SMUT #My Fic

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hello-im-not-a-possum · 3 years

Text

16. Play.

Noticing the power shift created by Joey’s new form and role in his story, the Ink demon, the Prophet, and the now much more lucid searchers are interested in playing a few games with their old pals Henry and Joey. (Or not very interested, in the prophet and searchers’ cases) (Set in the AU where by yeeting Joey into the ink machine before going through the portal-door in the kitchen, Henry is accompanied by a chatty, useless, and overall insufferable little imp.)

The novelty of Joey accompanying him as a friendly, (Henry used that term loosely considering what he knew now.) tiny, cartoon demon wore off the second the story actually kicked into play. For starters, the former animator knew that whether either of them liked it or not, Joey was going to be clinging to him whenever he felt like it and following him like a lost puppy.

At the moment, the imp was running ahead of the animator, tapping his feet impatiently as he ‘waited’ for the old man to catch up before scurrying off again and occasionally tripping, but Henry knew that by the time the Ink Demon came into play, the little devil would use him as a meat shield.

Speaking of the two devils, Henry approached the freshly boarded up ink machine room which Joey was already peering into with an uneasy expression on his pale face. The animator also peered into the room, but instead of being greeted by the Ink Demon popping out of the hole and starting the chase, he watched the Ink demon pace about the small room with an expression he’d never seen on it before: a grimace.

In addition to the demon’s seemingly much more expressive face, he seemed to have a different approach to his role as a villain now that he had no script from Joey to follow; a villain who was much more dangerous than a smart animal.

“SAMMY! JACK! JOHNNY!”

The Ink Demon shouted and called up three figures of ink.

“Alright, now listen up you three good-for-nothing, sewer-water-brained Lackeys, the creators will be here ANY second now, and if I find out YOU STUPID INK BLOTS let them get away, I’m gonna wring your necks out like wet towels! Do I make myself clear?!”

“Yes, your vileness.” The swollen searcher with a bowler hat replied in a tired sounding tone.

“Clear as day, your assholiness.” The Prophet added, sounding like more of a smartass than he had ever been when he was alive.

“Y-yes… Lord Ink Demon… We’ll take good care of them all right! W-well not good, but- EEEP!” a third searcher that appeared to have teeth made out of piano keys meekly stuttered and hid from the Ink Demon’s untrusting glare from behind the safety of the Prophet’s legs.

“Good! Now listen up: they’ve started up our machine already so we don’t have much time to plan: So what do we do to stop them?”

“Uh... ...Same thing as always?”

“W-well… I’m sure that you’ll have the best plan out of all of us, your rottenness!”

“You can stick your hand out of the holes in the boards and watch them run and fall to their doom like a pair of stray sheep who don’t see the cliff.”

“NO! When Joey’s not in control, I’m calling the shots around here! And I say: We’re not going to run his stupid story through the machine any more! We’re doing something completely different, something that will really make ‘em suffer...”

“Henry!” Joey tugged on the man’s pant leg and whispered loud enough for him to hear, but not loud enough to grab the ink monsters’ attention. “He can think and talk! He’s not supposed to do that! Hell, aside from Sammy, none of them are supposed to be any smarter than feral animals! Not to mention, they all look different… I think that stuff on Sammy is supposed to be hair, but it’s never been THAT long before...”

The Ink Demon slapped his forehead and grumbled under his breath.

“Speak of the %*#@ing devils…” He then stared expectantly at the confused trio of searchers. “WELL?! THEY’RE HERE; RIGHT OUTSIDE THE DOOR! ARE YOU GONNA MAUL ‘EM OR ARE YOU JUST GONNA SIT AROUND WAITING FOR THE COCKROACHES IN YOUR HEADS TO CHEW UP THE GARBAGE YOU CALL BRAINS FIRST?!”

“Why not take the pleasure in offing them yourself, your dicklessness?”

“Uh, Yeah, and when you fail at that, we’ll set up traps for ‘em downstairs. It’s not like they’re gonna escape the studio.”

The searcher with piano key teeth sheepishly nodded along.

“What?! But I had this cool dramatic entrance planned out and everything- ARGH! FINE!” The Ink Demon grumbled as he started breaking the boards. “If you want a mauling done right...”

Henry held Joey like a football as he ran through the rapidly flooding studio as the Ink Demon cackled manically throughout the chase.

“READY OR NOT HEEREEE I COOOOMEEEE~”

Henry found himself having to jump and duck to avoid a lot more falling debris and had felt the demon’s claws at his back at times, the situation was not helped by Joey screaming and crying the entire time.

He felt more dread than relief as he saw the exit coming in, no matter how close it got, he never got to it, like every time before, the floorboards broke underneath his feet. He always fell, and now, someone would try to catch him.

“HA! NOT WHEN I’M IN CHARGE, CREATOR!”

And would succeed.

It happened so fast that Joey couldn’t tell if he did it intentionally or not, but he had slipped out of Henry’s grip and had fallen down to the depths of the studio with a loud ‘splash’ announcing his arrival.

Announcing that he was alone, defenseless, and weak. In a studio that Joey now knew no longer was his to control, and was filled with many, many enemies who would fully take advantage of that.

“Y-you just need to stay c-calm, Joey...” He pulled himself up on a floating piece of stray wood and started paddling towards the valve. “There’s an ax nearby, all you need to do is get to it and you’ll be fine. you’ve seen Henry do this hundreds of times, you’ll be alright, you just need to believe in yourself.”

In spite of his reassuring speech, the scared little imp felt a large pit of dread in his gut. The former Music director, former lyricist, and the former organist would probably hesitate if it was Henry instead, but those three caught him... Joey shuddered just thinking about it.

As the ink drained he took his miraculously unstained bath robe off of the floor and put it back on. He was also missing his pants now, but it wasn’t like he could go back up to get them, and even if he could, he wasn’t going to fight the Ink Demon for a pair of fucking pants that were too big for him anyway.

“Get the ax, get back with Henry, get the ax, get back with Henry, get the ax, get back with Henry...”

He repeated to himself under his breath as he repeated his task of descending and turning valves as an attempt to keep himself from jumping at every twist and turn. The imp also kept his eyes peeled for anything that looked suspicious or out of place, fearing the looming threat of the searchers’ traps.

The ax and the room was exactly how Joey had left it, not a single thing changed, which did make him feel relieved.

When he moved forward, he didn’t find any evidence that Sammy was worshiping Bendy at all when in the shrine room, there were plenty of ritualistic circles, plenty of cryptic messages, but they all had the little devil as a thing that was meant to be sacrificed, not as something worth the former musician’s worship.

“Of all the runs for Sammy to not worship Bendy...” He groaned. “It HAD to be the one where I became an imp...”

He wasn’t sure whether he was grateful or even more afraid when he didn’t see Sammy moving the cutout around.

------

When Joey got to the music department itself, he heard the sounds of laughter, pool balls clacking, cheers and glasses clinking in the distance. Following the sounds, he found the three searchers lounging around the pool table in the middle of a conversation and a game.

The upbeat atmosphere fizzled out when the three noticed him. The Swollen searcher muttered something about the game just getting good, the Piano key-toothed searcher groaned about Joey spoiling all the fun as usual, and the masked mad maestro smiled at him.

Not in a sarcastic or forced way like how his human self smiled at people, it seemed genuine enough. But it also wasn’t a warm or kind smile, it seemed more ...hungry.

“Hello little Lamb.” The prophet stood up and got into the imp’s face, “Are you interested in playing a game with us?”

‘Oh fuck, he’s still crazy.’ Joey thought to himself. “N-no thanks!” He smiled and waved hoping that he didn’t look as terrified as he felt. “I’ve got a friend of mine to get back to and I really don’t have a lot of time to play.”

The imp dashed out of the break room and slammed the door shut behind him, completely unaware that the merriment had returned to the room.

“Thank god he didn’t go for it.” Johnny sighed. “If The Ink Demon found out about this room because of that little runt...”

“I told you it would work.” The prophet took the mask back off and set it aside on a crate. “...But he’ll probably come back to pester us into trying to help him find Henry, maybe even take up the game offer.”

“Yeah...” Jack poured himself another shot. “Kinda surprised that you didn’t jump at the chance to make his life hell though.”

“Less is more.” The prophet hit the eight ball and watched the rest of them knock against each other. “If you get one big punch left to linger, it hurts like a bitch, if you get hundreds of them, you grow numb to the pain. But I don’t think that Inky understands that.”

“Well, at least he can have fun playing his game of cat and mouse with Joey...”

“Yeah.” Johnny raised his glass. “Cheers to those two being each others’ problems instead of ours!”

“Cheers!”

#Bendy and the Ink Machine #joey drew #Henry Stein #ink demon #sammy lawrence #Jack Fain #johnny batim #ink demonth #fanfic

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just-dreaming-marvel · 3 years

Text

Out Of Time ~ Valentine’s Day

MASTERLIST

The following is a one shot for my series, Out Of Time.

Word Count: 2,250ish

Summary: Y/N spends valentine’s with her two lovers. (This is a little flashforward in the current timeline of Out Of Time.)

Monday, February 12th, 2018

“So I was thinking that on Wednesday, you and I can dress up and I can get Happy and Peter to deck the place again and I can spoil you rotten,” Tony said as Y/N and him were cuddled up on the couch, watching Shark Tank and eating pizza.

“On Wednesday?” Y/N repeated. “What’s so special about Wednesday?”

“Uh, honey,” Tony chuckled, “it’s Valentine’s Day.”

“What?!”

Tony laughed. “This is actually great. Usually I’m the forgetful one.”

“This is actually terrible,” Y/N grumbled, slipping her hands down her face.

“Terrible? Why?”

“Because I have two over the top boyfriends.”

“Oh… right… You don’t have to do anything with Barnes. He probably doesn’t know what day it is anyway. You know, cause the old age and brain damage.”

“Tony!” Y/N smacked his arm. “Don’t be mean.”

“Hey! Woah!” He held his hands up. “I’m just saying the truth.”

“I don’t want to think about this right now,” Y/N shook her head. She stood up, heading for the kitchen. “Did you have to bring it up?”

“Sorry that I just felt the need to tell you what I was planning for Valentine’s day.” Tony followed her. “Especially since I have to share my girlfriend.”

“Tony…”

“No, I have the right to be a little annoyed. This has been going on for 10 months now and you have yet to make a choice. I think you’re enjoying this.”

“You think I’m enjoying this?” Y/N spun around to face him. “This is killing me because I love you both, so much. And it will kill be to hurt either of you.”

“So? Just rip the band aide off.”

“Rip the band aide off? Are you serious?”

“I’m really starting to get there, honey. You know that I’m not the most patient or the sharing type, but I’ve been very open here. I can only push myself so far though.”

“You know what? I’m leaving. Have fun on Valentine’s Day, Tony.” She opened a portal to the side of her.

“Stop, Y/N. Stop. Don’t storm out of here.”

Y/N simply shook her head and went through the portal. Quickly closing it. She had took herself to her Wakanda bedroom, where, by surprise, Bucky was in there waiting for her. He was sitting on her bed, nervously running a rose through his hand.

“Hi, doll,” he greeted with a small smile. He stood up, crossing the room and giving her a kiss. “This is for you.” He handed her the rose, which she took.

“Thank you, Buck,” she replied, he could tell something was off.

“What’s wrong?”

“Nothing.” She was looking down at the rose twirling in her fingers.

“Don’t lie to me.” He lifted up her chin. “What did Tony do?”

“Nothing, Bucky. He was fine. He just… did you make any plans for Valentine’s day?”

“Did I make any? Not yet. Have I been waiting here for hours to bring my plans up to you? Sadly.”

“Ugh!” She turned around heading to set the rose on the dresser. “So it’s just me who’s the idiot?”

“An idiot?”

“I completely forgot about Valentine’s Day, Buck. And I don’t know what I’m going to do.”

“You’ll just split the day between Tony and I. Like you always do.”

“Yeah, but is that fair? To me or to either of you?”

“Are you trying to say that you’re ready to make a decision?”

“No… I’m… I’m not ready. I just feel bad, about it all.”

“Well, doll, I can’t say that this whole thing has been easy. But I did promise you that I’d wait until you were ready and fight for you every step of the way. And I’ll still do that now, especially on Valentine’s Day.”

“Are you sure?”

“I’m completely sure.” He pulled her in for a soft kiss. “Just tell me the time and I’ll set it up.”

“Lunch.”

“You got it.” He gave her another sweet kiss. “I love you.”

“I love you too.”

~~~

Tony had locked himself away in his lab, working on his Valentine’s Day gift. Even if Y/N wasn’t going to make an appearance on the day of love. It was late in to the night when he heard footsteps coming up behind him. And he knew exactly whose they were.

“I hope you’re here to apologize,” he said, quickly covering up his work space.

“I am,” Y/N said softly. “I’m sorry. I know this isn’t just about me.” She came up behind him, wrapping her arms around him and resting her chin on him. “How about dinner on Wednesday?”

“Barnes isn’t going to be mad?”

“We’re doing lunch.”

Tony nodded, thinking a moment. “As long as I get to pick what you wear.”

“I guess I can handle that.” She pressed a kiss to his neck. “I love you.”

“I love you too.”

~~~

Wednesday, February 14th, 2018

Y/N had ignored both men after talking to them about Valentine’s Day. She was just feeling a bit overwhelmed about it all. She knew that she needed to make a decision soon, but she couldn’t today. Currently looking up at the ceiling, Y/N laid in her bed and sighed. A quiet knock sounded at the door before it was opened. Y/N sat up to see Bucky walk in, pushing a cart with food on it.

“Good morning, doll,” he greeted with a large smile. He paused to shut the door before pushing the cart to her bed. “Happy Valentine’s Day.” He leaned down and gave Y/N a kiss.

“Happy Valentine’s Day,” she repeated. She looked at the cart. “What’s all this?”

“I thought that I could bring you breakfast. Especially since I haven’t seen you in too long.”

“It hasn’t been that long.”

“It has for me.” He sat down on the bed. “Have you…” He swallowed. “Have you been with Stark the whole time?”

“No. I’ve been here.”

“So you’ve been ignoring me?”

“I’ve been ignoring everyone.”

Bucky nodded. “Any particular reason why?”

Y/N picked up a piece of food and plopped it in her mouth. “Just needed some time to myself. But I’m good.” She leaned towards him, pressing a kiss to his lips. “Ready to spend some time with you.”

“Good.”

Bucky and Y/N ate breakfast before he left, allowing her to get ready for the day. He told her to meet him at his place when she was ready. Y/N didn’t take too long to get ready before appearing near Bucky’s place. She smiled as she saw their tree decorated with lights and hearts. There was a blanket laid out underneath the tree with a basket on top of it. But what came to the biggest surprise to Y/N was to two white rhinos off to the side. She walked up to them, slowly reaching out her hand to pet one.

“I see you found the surprise,” Bucky came up behind her with a slight chuckle.

“These are the surprise?” She questioned, looking over at him while still keeping her hand on the rhino.

“Yes. I thought it would be fun to do something completely Wakandan. They don’t ride horses, they ride rhinos.”

“We’re doing to ride these?”

“If you don’t want to, we don’t—“

“No! I want to! Trust me.” She smiled at him.

“Okay, then.” He smiled back. “You ready to ride?”

“I guess.”

She turned back to the rhino, searching for how to get on it. Finding a foot hole, she put her foot in it before heaving herself up. Before she could throw her other leg over, Y/N started wobbling.

“Here,” Bucky came over putting his hands on her waist, “I got you.”

Y/N looked down, now noticing the new addition to Bucky’s look. “You’re arm,” she whispered, mesmerized by the sleek look of the black and gold together.

“I thought you deserved two arms today.”

“It’s… it’s real nice, Buck.” Real attractive too, she thought.

She focused back on what she was doing and flipped her other leg over the side of the rhino. Bucky then got onto his own rhino and began to lead the way. Y/N led her rhino to walk beside Bucky’s.

“This is so cool,” Y/N grinned.

Bucky did so in return. “I’m glad you think so.”

They chatted and rode until they were hungry and headed back to Bucky’s hut. Bucky got off his rhino first before rushing to help Y/N off. Y/N wouldn’t admit it aloud, but she enjoyed feeling his two hands on her waist. She turned in his hold to face him, wrapping her arms around his neck.

“Thank you, Bucky,” she said softly. “That was wonderful.”

“Only the best for you,” he replied, kissing her.

With his new metal hand, he led her under the tree. Bucky pulled Y/N down into his lap, brushing her cheek with his flesh fingers. He kissed her, begging entrance to her mouth with his tongue. Which she allowed. Her hands found his hair, holding his head close to hers. Bucky slowly set Y/N on the ground, with him hovering above her.

“Bucky…” she panted, breaking away from him. “We can’t… I can’t.”

He sighed, resting his head against her shoulder. “I know… I’m sorry.” He pressed a kiss to her shoulder. “I just don’t know how much longer I can wait.”

“I realize I’m asking a lot of you. But please be patient.”

Bucky moved off of her, allowing her to sit up. “I’m still a man, doll. I have basic needs I want met.”

“I know. And I’m very sorry for doing this to you.”

“It’s just… I can’t help it but be jealous of Stark. He’s got to be with you in ways I never have.”

“Don’t be jealous. He’s not getting any right now either… I need my mind clear to make my choice.” She grabbed his hand and kissed it. “You’re too good to me… thank you… I love you, James.”

“I love you too.”

~~~

Y/N arrived at Tony’s apartment around dinner time in New York. She had a wonderful time and knew Bucky did too, even if he was starting to grew impatient.

“Y/N,” FRIDAY called. “The Boss has asked me to lead you to the guest room to change before the evening starts.”

“Okay, FRIDAY,” she replied, “lead the way.”

Y/N followed FRIDAY’s directions to the guest room, where a floor length, hot-rod red dress was laying out on the bed. She walked closer, noticing a small note on it.

You told me I got to decide what you wear tonight. This was the most modest of them all, trust me. If you want to go with my top choice, look in middle dresser drawer. Though, I figure you won’t and I can save it for another day. Get dressed and meet me in the kitchen. - T.S.

Y/N had a soft smile on her lips as she read the note. She didn’t bother to open the dresser drawer and slipped into the dress. She quickly checked herself in the mirror before heading to the kitchen. There was soft classical music playing on the speakers and the room was simply lit by candles. Tony was sitting at the small table, but, upon seeing Y/N enter, stood up to greet her.

“Damn,” he smirked. “I did good.” He walked over to her. “Though I had hoped that you would have come down in the other option. This one is still good.” He pulled her in and kissed her. “I’ve missed you all day. I hope your time with Barnes wasn’t too terrible.”

“I don’t want to talk about him,” Y/N responded. “Can tonight just be about the two of us?”

“Of course.”

He gave her another kiss as he slowly started moving them to the music. He hands were on the small of her back as her wrapped around his neck, hands barely resting on his hairline. Their foreheads met and they closed their eyes, enjoying the proximity.

Y/N let her thoughts compare her to lovers. They were both uniquely different, yet the same and both absolutely wonderful and more than she would ever deserve. How was she suppose to make this choice? What had she gotten herself into?

“What are you thinking about?” Tony whispered.

“Nothing,” she responded.

“Liar. I can practically hear your thoughts.” He kissed her forehead. “What’s going on in there?”

“I just… I’m thinking about a lot. How wonderful you are to me. How wonderful this is… yet I’ll break my heart and someone else’s soon.”

“Not tonight though, right?” Tony looked in her eyes. His brown eyes boring into her soul, more vulnerable than she had ever seen them. “You’re not breaking my heart tonight, right?”

“Tony… No. Not tonight.”

“Good.” He pulled her closer. “Let me just hold you close tonight. Sway you tonight.”

“I love you, Anthony.”

He tensed a little at the use of his full name. “I love you too.”

They swayed to the music, holding each other close, for a little longer before moving to the table to eat. Tony could tell she was still thinking about it all, even though she tried to act like she wasn’t. He pushed it all aside though, focusing on just him and her and the hope that there would be a future there.

#tony stark x reader #bucky barnes x reader #the avengers x reader #avengers x reader #tony stark imagine #bucky barnes imagine #iron man x reader #the winter soldier x reader #marvel x reader #tony stark #Bucky Barnes #avengers imagine #marvel imagine #marvel imagines

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yoondoze · 4 years

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make a wish | jjk - 2

jeongguk didn’t know it, but his wish came true. as the best things in life do, it comes back around.

alternatively: a compilation of scenes in the after of “make a wish” and how they pile up and weigh you down until it’s too much to handle.

pairing: jeon jeongguk x reader

word count: 6.4k

genre: angst, fluff, romance, best friend!au, mutual pining... shh

warnings: language. besides that, this is pretty tame! only slightly edited bc its 2 in the morning and i just want to get this up lol

a/n: didn’t mean for this to be so long but i got a little carried away. this wraps up make a wish, so i hope you guys like it! also, feedback is always appreciated in any way shape or form <3 muah!

It’s just as you’re leaving when Jeongguk’s phone rings. His eyes widen in disquiet as he stares at the number displayed at the top of his phone. In preparation, he shakes out his limbs dramatically and takes a deep, exaggerated breath. Considering it’s for your entertainment, you roll your eyes and wave him on.

He picks up.

“Hello?”

The voice on the other end is muffled as you try your best to listen in. Your heart pounds in anticipation, gripping onto the straps of your purse with white knuckles.

“Yeah. Okay. Okay, great.”

He paces around the room aimlessly. His fingers fiddle with a loose thread on his sweatpants as he listens closely. You’re sure he’s already sweating, more nervous than you could imagine despite the playful act he put on before answering.

“Yeah. That’s fine! Okay, thank you so much. Alright, bye.”

He’s facing away from you as he clicks the end call button. Just as you’re about to ask, he spins on his heel, lips pursed as he holds back a grin.

“Guess who got the job?”

A toothy grin spreads across his face as he singsongs. Jeongguk’s expression of pure excitement is a privilege to see. It’s impossible to deny how it lights up your own.

“Oh my god, you got the job?”

“I got the job!”

His bangs bounce as he jumps with both fists raised in glory. You squeal, going in for a tight hug and swaying back and forth as you congratulate him.

“I’m proud of you, Gguk,” you say into his shoulder. “Really, I am.”

And when you say it, you mean it. After so many months of struggling at his old company, he took the leap and applied for a position at a more well-known film studio. The late night introduction practices with you, which included him reciting prepared resume-esque lines and weeks of tiring interviews had paid off like you knew he deserved it to.

“Okay. I should get home,” you try, voice strained as his arms crush your diaphragm like walls in a deadly escape room. Upon hearing your winded sentence, he loosens his grip.

You don’t even think about what it might mean before you place a departing kiss to Jeongguk’s cheek, fueled by the elation running through you at the upward turn of events. It’s an accident, it just happens naturally as if it was something you’ve done a thousand times. It only hits you that you shouldn’t have after it’s already done.

Sure, you make out and kiss all the time, but the difference is that’s only when you’re taking advantage of the benefits you worked out. That kissing is all attraction, nothing chaste or romantic like this. So when you pull away from the hug, you expect to see his eyebrows furrowed in confusion and giving you a look of disgust.

“Uh-” you sputter, ever a wordsmith, trying to think of some rational explanation to excuse why you might have kissed him like that. The previous bouts of joy sparking in your heart fly out the window.

However, his eyes only show a mild, innocent surprise. At his silence, it doesn’t seem like he’s going to address it, and you assume he’ll assume it was just congratulatory. You can work with that.

“Bye. I’ll text you when I get home,” you blurt as untroubled as it can come, spinning on your heel and hurrying out the door. After closing it behind you, you slump back against it for a breath.

God, what were you thinking? Were you fucking stupid? Your fingers find your forehead finds as you try to convince yourself it wasn’t that bad. You’re prone to over analyzing, anyway. Jeongguk’s too occupied to think about it like that. He just got his new job, he has a thousand new things to worry about. He won’t read into it. If he does, he’ll think of it as a heat of the moment sort of thing.

Right?

Inside, Jeongguk pauses, staring at where you were standing just a second ago and scratches the back of his neck. The corners of his mouth turn up slowly.

He finds himself checking his phone every five minutes for a text from you, which never comes.

☆☆☆

At the end of the day, it was your fault.

It was your thoughtless action that made Jeongguk think that incorporating romantic gestures like that into your relationship could still be platonic. You rocked the boat with that one, but it wasn’t enough to completely capsize your vessel, and for that you were grateful.

Still, your heart now tore itself into smaller and smaller pieces every time he kissed you goodbye or grabbed your hand to swing it back and forth or wrapped his arm around you after cleaning up.

“By the way,” he says, tossing you one of his shirts from his place in front of his dresser. He pulls on a clean pair of boxers as you cover up. “There’s this work dinner I have to go to next week for networking and stuff, and it’s a buffet-type thing so they charge you for a spot. But, I found out that there is a couple’s discount and was wondering if maybe… you’d want to come with me?”

The hopeful sparkle in his eyes is one you just can’t ignore. Doing so would feel like a one-way ticket to hell, the only valid consequence for such a rotten crime.

“Yeah, sure.”

His smile at your compliance takes away all the apprehension you might have had, at least for a second. He wears it like a medal.

“Okay, good. I have to talk to a lot of people so I’d just feel better if you were there.”

Your brows draw together as you watch him get dressed. “But Gguk, you’re good at talking to people,” you say, going as far as to admit teasingly, “You’re fairly charming.”

He laughs, hopping into his slacks. “Yeah, but that doesn’t mean I don’t freak out inside. It’s scary!” The dark brown mop of hair atop his head jostles into his eyes as he adds, “There’s gonna be a lot of well-known people there so it’s my chance to make some connections.”

Despite that, you’re sure he’ll be just fine. By nature, Jeongguk is inviting and easy to talk to. That is one of the reasons why you became such fast friends, and probably why you lasted so long. Along with his agreeable presence, his captivating looks probably wouldn’t hurt in striking up a deal either, though you’d never say that to his face.

“What’s the dress code?”

“Semi-formal I think?” He says, looking out of the corner of his eye. “I don’t know what that constitutes in terms of dresses but…”

A certain memory tugs at the back of his head. He considers just leaving it there, maybe slightly sentimental for his usual image, but what’s the harm in bringing it up?

“Do you remember the dress you wore for my brother’s graduation dinner? The blue one?”

You, on the other hand, are just surprised he remembers something like that. It must have been years ago by now. Still, it’s a good memory. It was a breezy evening by the shore to celebrate his brother’s graduation from college. The dinner was nice, but the best part was when you and Jeongguk ended up sneaking off to go sit on the beach later on in the night.

Jeongguk is intertwined into nearly every lasting memory you make. It’s hard to imagine a world where he isn’t a part of each story you retell or each thought that crosses your mind.

“Oh, yeah, of course. It’s probably buried in my closet somewhere.”

He’s relieved you don’t question him.

You might have to do some digging when you get home to find it, but you definitely still have it. It’s not like you have the money to be purchasing new semi-formal dresses for every occasion.

“That would be good. Or something like it, I don’t know.” He finishes buttoning up his shirt and tugs on the cuffs to straighten them out. His reflection in the mirror sends you a beaming smile, at this point accepting how his heart rate seems to spike every time he sees you in one of his shirts nowadays. He’s gotten very good at lending them to you casually.

He continues after a glance at the clock tells him he’s been letting his time with you slip on for more time than he can afford even though he wishes he could stay. “Anyway, I have to get going so make sure you lock the door behind you when you leave.” And then he’s padding out the door, car keys jingling in his hand as he picks them up from the dish on the kitchen counter.

“Oh, and Y/N?” He pokes his head around the hallway entrance to see you. “There’s coffee out here for you when you want it.”

He dashes off before you have the chance to react or even say thank you, a sheepish grin tugging at his features as he walks to his car. When you go out to see, it’s already made with cream and sugar, just the way you like.

☆☆☆

“You look really pretty tonight, Y/N,” Jeongguk says, voice soft as ever, eyeing your dress as you step out of the car. “Seriously, I mean it.” The heels you wear click evenly like a metronome’s beat on the pavement as you walk around to join him at his side.

You ignore the heat in your cheeks, rather offering an endearing grin as you grip the clutch in your hand. “You too, Gguk. You’ll do great tonight. I wouldn’t be surprised if you made everyone here fall for you while you’re at it.”

His initial thought is to ask if that includes you, but his better judgment tells him it’s too bold. Instead, he just laughs and hands his car keys to the valet.

The dinner is a week later at a stunning three-floor, dimly lit fine dining restaurant decorated with dark hardwood and intricate chandeliers that make the soreness in your neck seem worth it while observing them.

Jeongguk cleans up nice, and even though you’ve already known this for a long time, you consider it a treat since this attire rarely, if ever, sees the light of day.

He props out his elbow and nudges for you to take it, which you so graciously do. Together you walk to the glass doors, through which you can see the party has just started. You can already hear the muffled music and chatter in the background.

“By the way,” he says, leaning down to your ear, like what he’s about to tell you is no big deal. “I… might have told my coworkers that we’re engaged-”

“Engaged!?” you whisper, eyes wide and staring at him incredulously.

So maybe he should have told you earlier. In his defense, he needed the extra time to produce an irrefutable excuse. In the end, it was only sort of reasonable, but he was hoping you would just roll with it. Isn’t that what the two of you always did?

“I know, I know! But listen. It just makes more sense in terms of you being my plus one and it also makes me seem like I have my shit together. And it’s always good for me to seem like I have my shit together, right?”

You sigh, narrowing your line of sight at him. “Okay. What do I do if someone asks why I’m not wearing my ring then?”

He mutters, “Oh, yeah.” Then he’s fishing through his side pocket and out comes a shiny silver ring with a small diamond placed into the center, held so flippant between his fingertips. “It’s my grandma’s. Borrowed it from home for this weekend.”

His heart pounds. Was that smooth enough? He has a lot of talents, but he isn’t sure if this was one of them just yet. Jeongguk tenses as he waits for your reaction. Best case scenario, his carefree attitude about it will rub off onto you.

“I figured it’d fit you,” he adds.

When it slides on perfectly, you know there’s no going back. Yet somehow, it is completely in character of him. You should have expected something like this because Jeongguk always has and always will be a man of spontaneity.

You’ll have to ask him how he knows your ring size sometime.

Inside, he introduces you to his coworkers. There are too many to remember but you catch a few here and there that you recall him talking about before, like Namjoon, the diligent Production Assistant and Taehyung, another member of the crew who he often eats lunch with. It’s an initial blur of faces and few-worded exchanges before you can take a breather off to the side.

“Not bad?” he asks, his thumb tracing circles over your knuckles. The way it makes your heart flutter is addictive. He has you in his palm and he doesn’t even know it. Unfortunately, you don’t know if it’s something you can give up yet, not without it being messy.

There’s a short line behind a board that displays the seating arrangement, and though it’s moving quickly, it allows you a moment of space from the other guests.

A tired smile pulls at your lips. “Not bad.” You squeeze his hand in yours.

The people in front of you move from the board into the dining hall so both of you can inch up. Jeongguk’s eyes trace the small handwriting, eventually spotting the two of you in the far corner of the room.

Dinner goes well, and Jeongguk does the most of the talking. It’s nice to see him so bright as he laughs with his coworkers. It’s that part of him that he’s had since he was a kid, the part that made him fit in so naturally and charm every person around him. Seeing it out in the open and no longer repressed from emotional baggage is heartwarming. Compared to a few months ago, you might not recognize him at all.

After a while, Jeongguk wipes his mouth with his napkin and pushes his chair out from the table. “Alright, I’m gonna head to the bar lounge for a little while and see who I can talk to. Are you gonna be fine on your own?”

He’s nervous, you can tell. By the way his eyes dart around the room, the way he’s biting the inside of his bottom lip.

“Yeah, go ahead,” you nod, taking a sip of water. “I’ll just stick around here.”

He gives himself a once over and wipes his palms on his slacks.

You tap his shoulder, bringing him down so you can whisper to him a small, “You’ll do great.”

He pulls back with a shy, one-sided smile. “Thank you. I hope so. Text me if you need anything.” Effortlessly, he plants a chaste kiss to your cheekbone that has your face ablaze and excuses himself from the table. The feeling of his lips on your skin sticks well after he’s gone.

Ryujin, the script supervisor, puts down her drink with a roll of her eyes. “Finally, all the boys are gone. I’ve been trying to talk to you the entire time but he’s always butting in!”

It pulls a laugh from you. “No, no, he’s just trying to help,” you explain, “I’m new to everyone here so he just doesn’t want me to feel awkward.”

“Yada yada,” says a bubbly Chaeryoung, a PA, waving it off with her hand. “I expected him to be protective with how much he talks about you, but wow. It’s cute though. Sometimes I wish I had someone like that.”

“Yeah, I’m really lucky,” you nod, reminded that you’re just pretending. You’re lucky, but not that lucky. “But… wait, what kind of stuff does he say about me?”

Ryujin chortles at your worry. “Oh, only good things. Just stuff you do together, jokes, those kinds of things. You’re involved in a lot of stories in some way or another.”

“Like, “This one time in high school, Y/N and I got in a fight...” or “Last week, we went to this new brunch spot and Y/N got this sandwich…’” Chaeryoung clarifies, but it only makes you want to pry further.

As she says it, both of the memories come floating back clear as day. You can’t remember what exactly you argued over, but it had been when you were paired as partners in a history class. The sandwich, you recall, was heaven on earth. The images are picture-perfect despite how they’d been buried.

The fact that Chaeryoung remembered things you didn’t is mildly startling, but you’re more surprised that Jeongguk shared so much. Not that it’s an issue, you just didn’t think you’d find yourself being perceived by so many people you had no prior knowledge of. The idea of him spilling your high school gossip fits like a puzzle to his persona, but the thought never occurred to you that he might think about you when you’re not there.

But you won’t let yourself become too optimistic.

“Yeah,” you laugh, “I think it’s different since we grew up together as family friends. He’s in a lot of my stories, too.”

“Ugh, that’s cute,” Ryujin sighs. If only. “So when did you start liking each other? Or start dating?”

You take a deep breath as if you’re looking back on the day when in reality you’re just trying to come up with the most believable love story you can manage. It’s also your most ideal. Maybe if your current situation went the way you wanted.

“I think we liked each other at different times over the years. Y’know, I liked him when we were kids, he liked me when we were teenagers, kind of on and off like that. But sometime after college, I think the cycle lined up once and for all and…“

Do you think you could manifest it by speaking it into existence?

“...here we are.”

That thought was stupid. You make yourself forget about it. Stop with the hope, remember?

When you finish your spiel, you think you’ve finally made it in the clear. Until another question comes.

“So what was your first date like? Was it weird?”

You know they’re just trying to make conversation, but god, you’re not ready for this. You’re preoccupied with other problems. If only they knew how your brain was short-circuiting in an effort to think up an explanation that will make you sound versed and most importantly, convincing. You go with what you wish had happened.

“Um, a little bit, but since we had been close friends for such a long time, I think we had that mutual understanding of how things were so we could laugh about it. We just…” you say, shaking your head along, lips pursing as your train of thought rolls through the detailed daydream you know so well. “...went out to dinner one night... and it was sort of a process to transition to something more romantic, I guess, but it just kind of happened.”

But it feels nice to be Jeongguk’s girl. Even if you’re just playing a part. If you sink yourself into the atmosphere, tune into the clinking of the glasses, and the relaxing jazz in the background, you can pretend you’re really engaged and sharing your love story to whoever will listen.

Would it hurt too much to hold out on it one day become reality?

“I’m always so happy when the company hosts these events,” Chaeryoung comments, leaning back in her chair to take in the room. “It’s the only time I can come to a place like this since you know I can’t afford it with my own money.” A small talk sort of laugh bubbles up from her as she says it. There is an inkling of confusion that strikes you at her words, but you think you’ll just brush it off for the sake of being casual.

Ryujin looks to you as she adds, “And they even let you bring a plus one for free! You know, I was thinking of bringing my boyfriend, but I just felt like it might have been too soon…”

Your brows furrow as you recall the conversation with Jeongguk. Didn’t he say that it was a pay per guest scenario?

“So the company pays for these dinners?” you ask out of pure curiosity and with no hint of suspicion weaved in your tone.

“Yeah!” says Chaeryoung. “It’s all from the company’s budget since this is technically a networking event. Usually, people swap ideas or come up with deals that turn into projects a couple of weeks down the line.”

You nod along as she explains eagerly, but all you can hear is that there never was a price to pay to begin with, and more importantly meaning that there never was a discount. Not one that Jeongguk needed you around for.

But why would he lie?

Maybe Jeongguk was embarrassed asking for your company or didn’t want his ego bruised by telling you it was free and he wouldn’t have to pay for you. It’s the benefit of the doubt for your best friend (and love of your life, but that’s a separate issue) that makes it your first thought. In reality, thinking about the boy you know, it doesn’t make sense. At this point, he shouldn’t have to feel like that when it comes to you.

Whatever the case may be, you hope that he knows he’d never need an excuse to invite you somewhere. It’s not like you’d ever refuse. You’d never refuse him, not in any life.

☆☆☆

It’s the middle of the night when another bad dream jolts you awake with a pounding heartbeat. Your eyes flutter open, brimmed with tears, to reveal that the moon is still high in the sky above the towering buildings, and a shift to the side facing the nightstand lets you know you have another three hours before you have to start your day and leave Jeongguk’s apartment.

The last few weeks, the dreams have been growing more and more common. Not enough for you to dread going to sleep just yet, but definitely something you’re quickly getting sick of. At this point, you’re tired of going to sleep just to wake up freaked out in a cold sweat. You chalk it up to the stress piling on you, not only that of regular adult life but that of your messy relationship with your best friend.

How ironic that must be, considering the whole reason it started was to relieve stress when now it’s your main source.

You empty your lungs with a shaky sigh and slide to the edge of the bed, intending to fetch a glass of water to calm yourself down. Before you can reach your feet, Jeongguk’s arm catches you at your waist, and then you’re being reeled back under the covers.

“Easy,” he mumbles, his voice grainy and low from sleep, “You’re fine. Talk to me.”

You swallow thickly, the scenes from your subconscious flashing back to you. “Um, that’s alright. Not a big deal.”

You wish he’ll just leave it at that and fall back asleep like he usually does. When his breathing steadies, you think you’re in the clear, but you are horribly mistaken when he yawns and adds, “You’ve been having a lot of nightmares recently.”

Is it another prompt for you to talk? You’re not sure what to say.

In fact, you’re never sure what to say anymore. Never sure what’s too much, what’s too little, what the difference is between what you say and what you mean. The line blurred months ago and now you’re wandering blind.

You’d enjoy moments like this if it wasn’t for the stark fact that the person you’re with doesn’t love you like you love him.

“Yeah…” you agree. Right now, your chest is heavy and not strong enough to support a conversation. You hope that he’s not too drowsy to take the hint.

A small sound from him makes it seem like another sleepy sentence is in the works, but fortunately, the tension in your chest begins to fade when nothing comes out. His hair shuffles against the pillow and he presses a featherlight kiss to the back of your neck, lips lingering there for a second too long before he sinks back into his position.

When you’re sure he’s slipped under the veil of slumber again, you carefully slide out of his grasp and squeeze into your own space at the edge of the bed. You don’t know how much longer you can last like this.

☆☆☆

“She texted me.”

The sentence makes you stop chewing. Your movements stop aside from an absent blinking, gears spinning overtime to process it.

“She uh, she wants to meet up,” he tacks on. “I think I should go.”

“Why would you do that?”

Jeongguk slowly twists the pasta around his fork, taking a blatant newfound interest in his dinner. He takes a deep breath, but when he opens his mouth, the words catch in his throat.

“I don’t know. I think we need to talk about what happened.”

You scoff, and he takes an immediate offense to it. His eyebrows knit together as a wounded expression takes form on his features.

“What happened? Gguk, she dumped you because you were going through a hard time and she didn’t want to ‘deal’ with it.”

It’s not just you playing the protective best friend role and trying to talk sense into him. It’s not jealousy, either. And sure, maybe you never liked her to begin with, but for good reason. She ended up doing exactly what you thought she would - shattering his heart into a million pieces and leaving it for someone else to pick up the pieces. And considering that’s been you on a multitude of occasions, you think your point of view is valid.

“Listen, I don’t blame her… That can be really hard on someone.”

“So it’s okay for them to just pop in out of the blue, say they can’t handle your emotional issues and bounce? Someone who they claimed to love for over a year and a half? Someone who they were thinking about marrying?”

Jeongguk purses his lips as you speak, a hefty exhale coming through his nose in frustration.

“I just miss her sometimes!”

And you really wish Jeongguk would love you back, but we can’t all get our way, can we?

Not to throw yourself a pity party, though. It’s not like he owes you anything for what you do because you brought it on yourself. He doesn’t control your feelings, even when you want to blame the nerve he has for smiling because it makes you get all jittery.

“She doesn’t even give a shit about me anymore! She’s out with other guys, doing all this shit, posting it everywhere. I… I loved her so bad and she acts like she has no clue.”

You give him pep talks when he’s about to go out with someone else. You comfort him when he’s distraught over someone else. You love him when he loves someone else.

And then-

“You don’t know what that’s like.”

You freeze. Your heart leaps to your throat, closing the gate on your lungs until you forcibly open them again as subtle as possible. A stinging feeling you know all too well burns in your eyes as you try to hold back. Jeongguk doesn’t notice in the slightest as his gaze is still fixated on his food.

Your initial reaction is anger. All you want to do is yell, tell him wrong, tell him that you know it all too well because you love him and he’s pathetically oblivious whether by his nature or by choice. Everything you want to say, shouts and confessions, float across your mind and bounce around the walls as each one brings you further to opening your mouth and letting them spill. Then you just want to cry.

But you won’t do any of that. Your situation won’t allow it, not if you want to risk losing him. It’s not a risk you’re willing to take, even if it means suffering in it by yourself and letting the irony of his words go unrealized.

“Yeah, you’re right,” you sigh, the fork gripped by your white knuckles tapping mindlessly against the side of the bowl as you swallow the feeling back down. Your hand comes up to scratch at the corner of your eye, wiping away the wetness beginning to pool composedly so he won’t notice.

“I don’t.”

☆☆☆

It’s on a Tuesday evening a couple of weeks in the future when you next see him.

Maybe more than a couple. Maybe a few. Maybe too many. Just enough for his tone to turn to something more confrontational than just casual when he sends you a text saying that he wants to see you again. Particularly when he specified that no, he needed to see you again.

He suggests the park by the river. You’ve been there a few times with him for lunches and to hang out, but the energy is different this time around. Both of you know why you’re here, even though you never thought you’d have to be.

For a while, you didn’t want to make things weird, so you’d come over when he’d ask and leave as soon as you could in an attempt to curb the damage on your heart. It wasn’t until three weeks ago that you actively started flaking on him. You’d let his calls ring until he hung up or left a message and say you were busy when there was absolutely nothing going on.

He stopped by your apartment at one point, too. You were freaking out after he texted you he’d be visiting, pacing around and wondering what to do, what to respond, if to respond at all. The knock at your door came sooner than you expected. Before you were about to pull it open and face what you’d been so casual about denying for so long, it occurred to you: You could simply not open the door.

So you waited. He knocked a few more times, sighing so loud you could hear through the door. He called out your name softly, as if he knew you were right on the other side. He stayed for a few more minutes. Then came the sound of his footsteps padding away. You were safe for another day, but the awful feeling stuck in your chest for days.

It stuck in his, too. He knew he should have never gone that far, never said anything that night, but he also wondered if he could have done it any other way. Standing at your door and having to face the fact that you were undeniably steering clear of him, because of him, was a nightmare. It was stupid of him, but you’d see past it - wouldn’t you?

And now you’re seeing him live and in person for the first time in god knows how long. It’s a foreign feeling you’ve never felt with Jeongguk before, and you hate it. It’s been long enough for the sense of familiarity to fade, or at least be buried by time.

Is this how a comet feels when it passes earth again after so many years apart? Does it feel new every time seeing how things have changed, or are they old friends who pick up where they left off?

“ So… what’s been going on with you?” Jeongguk asks nonchalantly, leaning back on his elbows and shaking the hair out of his eyes. “It’s been a while.”

“Uhh, I don’t know,” you shrug, vision focused on the calm waters in front of you. You tug at the grass under your fingertips, loosely hugging your knees to your chest as you sit beside him. “Not much I guess. Just work as usual, you know.”

“Yeah, but how are you?” he presses, trying to find your eyes as you avoid his.

He knew something was wrong from the evident distance and your attitude, but he didn’t think it’d be this bad. He didn’t think he’d fucked up this bad.

Your laugh is awkward and forced. “I’ve been fine. Been good.”

Thinking about the past few weeks, it’s not hard to remember but incredibly hard to grasp. It’s the same moments over and over, sourced from a lonely routine. Day by day spending time with yourself, missing Jeongguk, thinking about texting him but never doing it. Wash, rinse, repeat.

His face turns from you and you miss it the second you can’t see it. The feeling is off and both of you know it. He sucks his lower lip into his mouth, biting at it as he thinks of what to say. If the wrong thing comes out, he’s worried he’ll chase you even further away. It took so much to even get you here.

“Listen, can I be honest with you?” he says.

Honesty is the best policy, isn’t it? He’s tired of beating around the bush. The two of you know so much more than bland small talk.

“Sure.”

He takes a deep breath. “I always thought that nothing could ever be uncomfortable with you and me. Like we could be straightforward and blunt without it being weird. But things right now are really weird and I don’t know what happened. You’re avoiding me and you don’t want to see me. It’s not like it used to be.”

Your nails scrape beneath each other, entangled in your lap. Clearly things aren’t the same, but you don’t have the energy to be snarky. There are so many things to address and you’re ignorant on where to start.

“I know there wasn’t a discount for the work dinner.”

He nods, looking out over the river. “Yeah, figured.”

“So why’d you lie?”

It’s his turn to shrug. “I just wanted you there and I didn’t know how to ask you. I… was starting to feel the shift and I wasn’t sure what to do about it. Saying that just gave me an excuse to take any of the weight off.”

He adds quietly, “Your turn.”

“Gguk,” you start, shaking your head as you try to find the right words. You think of the kiss, the dinner, the ring, the argument.

“We act like a couple. We do things couples do. We pretend we’re a couple. But... we aren’t a couple.”

He’s silent. He knows where you’re going. He knew it before you even got here because if you didn’t bring it up first, he would have.

“I think you already know what’s going on, but if you need it spelled out for you, I kinda caught feelings for you. And then you give me your grandmother’s wedding ring and tell me you love me and it hurts so fucking bad because I know you don’t mean it like that. Not the way I wish you did.”

The words dissipate into the fresh evening air, soon filled by delicate chirps and birdsongs. Distant laughter floats around the park, with muffled ferry horns layered behind it all.

“How do you know?”

Your hand pauses, chlorophyll green blades pulled taut between your fingers. No fucking way.

“What?”

He scratches the back of his neck before locking his eyes with yours. “How do you know... that I don’t mean it like that?”

He’s not playing with you, is he? No, he wouldn’t. You respond slightly confused, hesitant to lean into his words just yet.

“Are you saying that you do?”

He laughs and it makes your chest feel like it might burst open. “You’re kidding, right? I’ve been saying it. I mean, I thought I was being obvious.”

You suppress the excitement bubbling in your stomach for a second longer to throw him a questionable expression with an extended palm for emphasis. “You told me you wanted to go see your ex-girlfriend and were talking about how you loved her.”

He exhales through his teeth as he squints at you. “Yeah, that went a little far...”

“Only a little?”

“I’m apologizing, so let me, please?” He says, eyes wide with a small smile tweaking up at his lips. “It was stupid. I wanted to see what you would say or if you would get jealous. ‘Cause I thought you might have felt the same and at the time that was the only thing I could think of doing.”

Your expression falls.

“Wait, so did you actually meet up with her?”

“No, no!” He exclaims, rushing to refute such a bizarre idea. “Yes, she texted me, but I said no. Everything you said was right, so… it wasn’t worth it.”

He thinks he’s done, until he sees your stare still lingering on him. What’d he miss? He flops over on his stomach, elbows in the grass as his chin rests on his palms to look at you.

“You also said I didn’t know what it was like to love someone who didn’t love me back.”

A cheeky grin grows on him. “Okay... but technically you don’t because I loved you back the whole time.” One of his arms lowers to the ground, his fingers finding your own. He weaves them together with an affectionate squeeze. “You just didn’t know.”

The way your heart flutters is different this time. Gone are the tiring nerves and teary eyes and the weight of stress on your shoulders. It’s a comfortable sort of excitement, one that you’re in love with almost as much as you are with the boy himself.

“Since when?” you ask shyly, feeling the tingle in your cheeks.

It’s a relief to have Jeongguk back. A life without him wouldn’t be one you could ever get used to.

He was there at the start, he’s here now, and he will be here for as long as he possibly can. When it comes to you, there’s no doubt. He’s yours every time.

His deep brown eyes sparkle under the setting sun, golden and glowing, as he makes a point to find your own. Tone dulcet and tender, he says it like it’s the most obvious thing in the world.

“Since always.”

#jungkook scenario #jungkook fanfic #jungkook angst #jungkook fluff #btsguild #jungkook fanfiction #jungkook x reader #jungkook oneshot #jungkook x you #jungkook fic #jungkook imagine #bts fanfic #bts angst #bts x reader #yoondoze

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bubbletimestories · 3 years

Text

Bosom bonus chapter (Destiel fic I guess)

Hello !

This fic is a bonus chapter of Bosom that you can find here if you want ^^

I lost the chapter long ago and had to write it again so it's not very polished but it's cute <3 I hope you're gonna like it.

Themes : pregnancy, hypnosis, mention of blood, Destiel, love, family, desire, fatherhood, Dean and Castiel becoming a real non-platonic family

Little summary of Bosom : Sam and Dean went into a village where men fell pregnant of little girls growing fast, parasites that provoke a huge love and protective instinct in the father and everybody around. The brothers have left the town but Dean is possibly pregnant.

*********************************

(On the road again)

The two brothers set off again on the roads, as they always did, without a specific destination except for adventure. This sentence was very cliché, but I keep it. This little break had been most enjoyable, but now it was time to go back in search of new monsters to kill, new threats to contain. Except that a new case doesn't appear every day.

Sat in the passenger seat, Sam was bored like a dead rat. He watched the landscape go by, a perpetual succession of trees, while thinking that by dint of being stuck with the same person and the same old rock tapes, he was going to go mad eventually. It was probably the nicest option available to him, anyway. It was always better than "dead in excruciating pain", "tortured by Lucifer" or "employed in a fast food restaurant whose mascot is a clown". All in these gloomy thoughts, however, the hunter noticed an incongruous detail: since the time they had been running on the roads, Dean had not yet been speeding. He who was so inclined to make the Impala's engine roar had been very reasonable since leaving the small town. It was both surprising and ... appreciable. But the young man didn't really have time to think about it, because one of the many cellphones started ringing, a sign that they were about to resume service. A few sentences later, they were on their way to a new investigation, such as Scooby-Doo and his faithful companion in the green t-shirt.

- Pee break!

Dean braked hard without warning, his brother almost crashing into the dashboard and choking off a slew of curses as he straightened up. The driver had already gone into the thickets, holding back from laughing, for he had, of course, been looting on purpose. He wouldn't really be him if he didn't play pranks on his dear Sammy. So it was very proud of himself that he settled down behind a bush to… relieve more than his conscience. Knowing full well that his brother would look away in embarrassment, the young man began to hiss pointedly while slowly lifting the edge of his t-shirt. Knowing that he was out of sight, the Winchester finally took the time to examine the slight bulge in his abdomen, smiling as he saw a small glow appear on the surface.

- You are the weirdest food poisoning I've ever seen.

It had been two days since he realized something was wrong and it was already very late compared to other fathers. But come to think of it, Dean's body had gone through so many states (human, vampire, demon) that it took so much more for his body to panic. And then he'd come back from the dead so many times that he wasn't sure he was quite human anymore. Regardless, the hunter wasn't overly worried about not being alone, but he made sure Sam didn't know. It was his little secret.

After putting his belt back on, the young man got back into the car and turned to his brother with a big smile before throwing himself on him, putting his hands on his cheeks.

- A little hug Sammy? - DEAN! You're disgusting, you haven't even washed your hands! - We share everything, brother.

The younger man's insults responded to the older laughter, and a few hours later they arrived in front of an old, dark wooden building as night fell on the horizon. A hunter was waiting for them, anonymous since he will likely die in the fight, and quickly informed them that he had wanted to face the bloodthirsty ghost lurking in the house alone, but had not succeeded. The ghost's body was hidden in one of the walls so they were going to have to play with mace to be able to burn that bastard. As usual, Sam let the other two chat while he got the materials ready, did the final research needed, before jumping into the mouth of the wolf. Ammunition loaded with salt, lighter, iron bar, it was necessary to prepare for all eventualities. Finally, they made their way inside the dark building, their heavy boots cracking the blackish floor.

- We'll take care of the first floor. Sammy, go and inspect the second, we'll go faster.

With a nod, the hunters agreed and parted, soon rattling their hammers against the walls, tearing the silence of the night. They only had a short time before the entity that haunted these places manifested itself, which is why they busied themselves as best they could, sweat soon running down their backs. As Dean wiggled his arms made hard by the effort, he noticed a gaunt form appearing a few feet away from him, that of a black-toothed man staring at him, stroking the handle of a long razor. That's it, the hunt could begin in earnest. Without waiting, the Winchester raised his weapon and fired without taking the time to aim, showing absolutely no fear at the grimacing specter. The first bullet missed its mark, but the second hit the apparition in the head and he disappeared with a furious cry, alas for a short time. It was necessary to move faster, to search every corner in search of the corpse. Sam must have been alerted by the gunshots, his brother raised his voice to tell him that everything was fine, but the movement needed to be speeded up.

One by one, the partitions were gutted, revealing themselves empty as time went on. Fatigue began to win over the hunters who hit with less regularity. Through his plaid shirt, the eldest Winchester brushed his stomach for a brief moment, time to catch his breath. He did not notice until too late the drop in temperature which formed a thick mist as it left his lips and when he turned, it was to meet the perverse gaze of the phantom who was advancing quietly, his long blade outstretched towards the young man.

- And shit ...

Far from being paralyzed with fear, Dean raised his weapon and tried to shoot the murderous specter again, but the latter was faster, the razor cutting through the air to bite into the shirt and especially the young man's hand who stepped back, hitting the bulkhead. A mad laugh rose in the throat of the dead man whose dark eyes sparkled with bloodthirsty madness. Disarmed, his adversary now appeared to him as a prey, a superb victim to be cut up. The latter knew he was cornered and could not think of anything other than his imminent death. What was going to become of his baby? The young man suddenly felt his insides twist and he fell to his knees uncomprehendingly, his mind brutally clouded with pain as the ghost's blade left a deep mark in the wall where the Winchester was.

His partner, whose name doesn't matter, had witnessed the whole scene without really deciding what to do. But the moment Dean narrowly dodged, the anonymous felt a fierce conviction set his brain ablaze, permeating his bones with unheard-of strength that screamed "save him." Save him ”. He knew then exactly what to do, the solution was now crystal clear and he walked up to the specter without a hint of fear. There was no room for fear in his head, only the deep, overwhelming desire to protect the kneeling man and what he was wearing. He rushed at the ghost, an iron bar wielded in his clenched fist like a modern version of Braveheart.

Blood splashed on Dean's shoes as the pain in his guts disappeared, which finally brought him back to reality. He had time to make out the specter before it vanished and a body collapsed heavily on the rotten floor. From the slit throat a scarlet stream escaped, but the hunter's face expressed a proud serenity, as if he had accomplished his mission and died fulfilled. Called upon by screams, Sam ran down the stairs to find the gruesome spectacle. Fortunately, his brother was unharmed, though deeply shocked. He helped him up, being careful not to slip into the pool of blood, two bodies were expected to be burned that night, but they had no time to feel sorry for themselves.

- I couldn't find anything up there and neither can you, it must be in the cellar. - A corpse stashed in the basement, it's so obvious that I wonder why we didn't think about it earlier.

It was with these common sense words that the Winchesters descended into the foundations of the old building to find the corpse and end the grueling night. Turning their backs, they resumed their masses to shatter the plaster of the walls, raising clouds of dust making them cough, stinging their eyes. In the opaque atmosphere soon looms the murderous specter, his livid face completely distorted with hatred and thirst for blood. Rather than stealthily approach to slaughter the hunters, the ghost let out a hoarse cry that caught the attention of its attackers.

"Keep looking, I'll take care of him," Sam cried, brandishing his hammer with one hand, the other firmly grasping a gun loaded with salt.

The iron end of the sledgehammer sliced through the air, but did not touch the apparition, which encouraged the younger hunter to increase his efforts. Although he didn’t yet know where his desire to protect his brother really came from, Sam already had enough of the motivation between brotherly love and the survival instinct. In his back, the beatings had resumed, made more frequent by the situation of ambient stress. The specter's attention kept returning to Dean for some obscure reason, and the other hunter took the opportunity to empty his magazine, causing the attacker to disappear until he was without ammunition.

- Dean! - I'm almost there !

The mass slammed down into yet another wall which revealed a piece of yellowish skull, they were finally nearing their mark. Without bothering to dig out the bones any more, Dean sprinkled them with oil and salt before setting them on fire. The ghost let out a final angry howl before being consumed, calm falling abruptly as the cry of rage still echoed in the ears of the Winchesters. They had won. Yet good humor did not light up their dust-blackened features, for they had yet another body to remove. So it wasn't until early morning that they were able to lean against the Impala to catch their breath, their faces drawn with fatigue.

- Let's go back to sleep, I'm exhausted. - Who are you saying that to…

As always, they had to wash their faces, find a motel to be able to collapse on one of the shabby beds smelling musty but since the time they walked the roads, the boys would probably have had more trouble sleeping. in sheets scented with lavender. Exhausted, Dean sat down to remove his shoes without thinking about the condition of his clothes, a precaution that wouldn't have been wasted judging by his brother's surprised look. Without him explaining it yet, it seemed to the tallest of the Winchesters that a faint glow emanated from the torn shirt. Driven by curiosity, he walked over and parted the fabric to reveal the terrible secret of his elder brother who put his hands on his abdomen, reflexively.

- I can explain everything, Sammy, you see ... - How long have you known?

Instead of his usual disapproving look, Sam's face lit up in surprise as he brushed the slight bump where a unique treasure lurked. Embarrassed, the father-to-be whispered half-heartedly that he must have been pregnant for five days. Five days ... and he hadn't realized it! To say that his brother received such a gift ... it was more luck than they had had in the past ten years and yet they had experienced miracles. The long-haired giant looked up at Dean jokingly.

- Hopefully not all of your children are bloodthirsty monsters.

Somewhat reassured by the reaction of his younger brother, the young man softened and they went to bed in a good mood after this perilous mission. Once rested, they decided to go for something to eat, on the one hand because eating is a vital need, on the other hand to celebrate Dean's pregnancy. Sitting on a tired bench, the latter consulted the menu with the utmost seriousness until a waitress came to take the order.

- The daily special for me, please. Dean, a big burger? - Yes, I'm ravenously hungry ... Although no, the salad. Or the burger? I crave a burger badly, I could devour eight of them, with big fries, but I still have to take care of my body and my health and the salad seems like a much healthier choice, especially now. But I really want meat and cheese, something fatty. I do not know what to choose !

With disconcerting rapidity, the hunter sank into a deep anguish to burst into tears under the stunned gaze of the waitress who did not know at all what to do or what to say. Even Sam, who was always quick to invent an excuse to get them out of any situation, was dumbfounded by such a spectacle. He eventually recovered and mumbled that his brother would have a burger with green salad, giving the waitress the opportunity to run away without asking for her rest. Dean calmed down as quickly as he had panicked and the rest of the meal went off normally, if we omit the curious looks around.

In the days that followed, the two boys decided it was best for the future dad to rest in the bunker until the end of his pregnancy, the life he usually led was not at all suitable. Even if that meant that Sam was going on a mission alone, it didn't bother the giant who kept giving news regularly. Eight or ten days after their departure from the village, the eldest brother received a visit from his dearest friend, the angel Castiel, who was obviously not up to date with the latest news. Knowing the angel's anxious nature, Dean preferred to remain silent and chat as if nothing had happened, not without admiring the shy but sincere face of the brunette. Castiel spoke with his usual seriousness about Heaven, about what was going on in the supernatural world and then, shyly dodging the hunter's gaze, he pulled a box out of a large plastic bag.

- I brought some pie, I thought you'd like it.

Indeed, the sight of the delicious pastry covered with shiny cherries was enough to make your mouth water, the young man had not eaten pie for weeks and he had to contain himself with great difficulty not to swallow it up. Still, he wasn't the only one who enjoyed the dessert and after a few bites, the little being in his belly began to express its enthusiasm by stirring. Nothing to do with the delicate brushing of human fetuses, it bounces with the force of a rubber ball, snatching an exclamation from his father. He couldn't deny it, either for appetite or discretion, Dean laughed helplessly, all the more so when he saw his friend's incomprehension.

- The baby is a big pie lover, too, and she thanks you, I think.

Illustrating his words, he lifted his shirt to reveal his rounded and shiny stomach, still all smiles as if after a good joke. Castiel, on the other hand, wasn't laughing at all. Instead, he jumped up, staring at the bump as if it were the Devil himself. He had never heard of such a phenomenon, and his default mechanism was fear. Coming into something he didn't know was new enough that the angel panicked.

- Dean, what happened to you? What's in your stomach? - It's called a baby, Gabriel must have mentioned it to you in passing.

The joke had no effect on the divine being who continued to stare at the stomach with fear and anger, too powerful to be subjected to the influence exerted by these creatures around. Obviously, Dean was not in his normal state, he harbored a dangerous parasite and it would inevitably end in chaos and death. Feverish, Castiel explained his point of view, encountering the jovial relaxation of the hunter who suspected that the news would be difficult to swallow. He let the angel pour holy water on his abdomen, squeeze a silver blade there, recite a few words in strange languages. Then, he took advantage that his friend was kneeling in front of him to take his face in his hands.

- You think too much, you didn't even congratulate me. - Now is not the time to laugh, Dean, this thing is growing, probably at full speed, we don't have time to ...

Castiel's warning was cut short, muffled under a teasing kiss that stirred the celestial entity to his depths, annihilating his thoughts in a breath, a squeeze. The shock paralyzed him and the hunter took the opportunity to prolong the embrace of their lips as long as possible before pulling back as if nothing had happened, his green eyes sparkling with mischief. The poor angel was completely confused, unable to continue to be worried or angry. So he vowed to watch Dean to monitor the progress of this pregnancy and find out whether or not he was right to take a dim view of it. As he left the bunker that day, he couldn't help but bring his hand to his lips, still feeling the heat on his mouth, the heady sensation of the kiss. He was to learn later that the new condition of Winchester made him very… affectionate. The hugs, the teasing looks sure made the angel blush from ear to ear, but it was nothing compared to the fit of madness when the belly started to draw more strongly. Grateful to his mate for bringing him fries, Dean threw himself on his neck without warning, a move to which the prudish and delicate Castiel did not know how to respond other than by awkwardly pulling away. The hunter concluded that he was undesirable, too bloated for the angel to look at him, and sulked in his room for long hours.

That put aside, Dean enjoyed the quietness of the bunker to go about his business and marveled more and more every day at the evolution of his body and of what was inside. He who had taken so long to realize the treasure he was carrying could only think of that, walking barefoot through the silent halls talking to his child. Besides, he was far from being a carrier father like the others, he was much stronger, much richer than ordinary humans and the entity at the center of his life could only be special too. Imperceptibly, the two beings changed, sublimated with each heartbeat, to achieve a degree of perfection that the first goddess would never have hoped for for her kind.

One day like any other, Castiel arrived for a visit and the hunter almost ran up to jump into the arms of his friend who was still very surprised (and moved) by this sign of affection so spontaneous. Hris blue pupils rested on the body with shapes hardly concealed by a loose shirt buttoned up to the collar, the radiant face, the sparkling eyes, the smiling and sublime mouth... There emanated from all his being a warm joy which finished disturbing the angel with a too human heart. Although what he felt did not depend on the fetal pheromones, he harbored a deep desire to stay with the Winchester, for all eternity.

- If you only knew how happy I am to see you ...

Dean approached his friend and put a hand on his cheek before capturing his lips in a kiss that softened to hot, catching the breath of the young man who felt himself respond to the hug, his own hand sliding behind the masculine back so as not to let him slip away. When he felt the tip of a tongue tickle his mouth, Castiel was electrified, but just as he was about to indulge himself a little more, the tasty lips parted from his. A stifled protest escaped him and he remained petrified, still vibrating from this intimate and far too short exchange. The infamous tempter smirked innocently, looking down at the bump under his shirt.

- She is happy too, we missed you. Very much.

With slow movements, he took the angel's hand and rested it on the outstretched flannel, appreciating to feel him caress his belly, greet the little being it contained. Even if it was not the first time that Castiel had the opportunity to visit his friend and see his fulfillment, it was always a great moment to have this intimacy, without fearing the interested gaze of a Sammy who did not had no illusions about the duo. His hand resting on the brunette's, Dean watched him staring at his swollen abdomen with that shyness all his own. He put words to his own emotion.

- To think that it's been two weeks already… it's happening at full speed. You will see, she has become very restless.

The brunette quickly looked up at the young father, worried about losing himself in their intense green and blushed. He waited only a few seconds, his palm resting against the warm fabric, before feeling a jerk against his fingers, followed by another as if the baby wanted to rest her hand against his. He whispered to himself:

- I would like to see her grow up...

The tender tone of his voice made Dean want to kiss him again, but instead he took his hand and laughed.

- You better be there to help me! On the other hand, I am a little tired, it bothers you if we continue to chat in my room, I will lie down a bit.

Maybe Dean had an ulterior motive, at least the cherub had none and he nodded as he followed the hunter down the halls, their hands still entwined even when the future father stretched out on his mattress with a sigh of relief: without being painful, the belly began to weigh heavily. Sitting on the edge of the bed, Castiel watched his friend slowly undo the buttons of his collar, descending along his finely chiseled chest ... Finally, the young man parted the flannel to proudly expose his more than rounded belly radiating lightly in the quiet of the room. It might sound strange, but the angel found his companion magnificent in gentleness and fragility, a million miles from his usual manly and confident demeanor. He immediately liked both sides, but for the first time he was not ashamed of such a thought. In the half-light an intimate atmosphere created that put the angel at ease, as if inside a soothing cocoon. Dean's pregnancy had allowed the two men to find themselves far from the violence and danger that constituted their daily life, without threat to eliminate, without a deadly shadow to hover over their heads. In the calm of the bunker, they had then been able to meet again, to simply be together and that was enough for the happiness of the divine being. Obviously, he knew things wouldn't last (they never lasted) and that they would soon return to their dark and tense daily lives. But he had decided to worry about it later.

The father-to-be eyed his friend fondly, detailing the locks falling on his forehead, the line of his jaw and his cheekbones that would soon turn pink. Embarrassing Castiel had always been one of the hunter's favorite pastimes, but he had never yet admitted how much he loved to see the blush rising to the young man's cheeks, that candor that then stood out on his face as if he had not been a millennial and heavenly being, but a shy teenager. Dean lifted the angelic hand and brought it to his lips before resting it on his blossoming lap with an encouraging smile.

- Talk to her. She recognizes your voice ...

Dean knew full well that his friend would refuse at first, there was only to see his blue eyes rounded with a mixture of joy and worry, his hand trembling slightly at the contact of the plump belly that fascinated him. But the hunter also knew that he could get anything from the angel and that he would not refuse him for such a tiny request. Shy and embarrassed as he was, the young man wanted to bond with this child, it showed on his face. Castiel finally nodded and took off his overcoat to be more comfortable, then resting his hand between the hunter's and the bulging surface. Through the thin skin, a delicate form curled up against the offered palm as if to say hello, a bewitching glow emanating from the fetus.

- Uh ... hello, little girl?

If the two friends could have heard the baby, they would have heard a crystal clear sound expressing simple and pure joy. Fortunately, the little being had other ways of making herself understood and she began to radiate a bright orange, imprinting her shape on one place of the belly and then appearing at the other end of the rounded abdomen, bouncing all over the place. with an enthusiasm that took her father's breath away. Fearing that she would hurt the hunter, Castiel put his two hands on either side of his stomach to calm the overly restless little angel.

- Be good and don't hurt your father.

Immediately the shaking ceased, to the delight of Dean who took a deep breath and laughed, amused by the baby's overreaction, but also by how quickly the latter had obeyed the angel. The certainty that he had the two dearest beings near him (sorry Sam) moved the young man who slipped green eyes filled with sweetness towards Castiel. He rested his rough palm against the beloved cheek, enjoying the touch as he glided lightly up the warm neck to stroke the jawline with the tip of his thumb.

- You see ! A child always recognizes the voice of their parents. - Oh Dean…

The time that flowed like a long trickle of honey came to a standstill as they looked at each other, losing themselves in pale eyes imagining an idyllic, slightly cliched, but incredibly alluring future. The small heat ball continued to form a bump against the hand of the angel, this tiny creature that gathered humans and legendary beings around them. By her mere presence, she had transfigured Dean, given him back a peace and happiness he never thought he would ever achieve and just for that, the angel loved this child. To think that he had wanted to destroy it, to make it disappear from the body of the hunter when he discovered it… Then he had fallen under the spell of this innocent, indistinct form, which made the Winchester smile. He had fallen under the spell of this quiet, simple life, where the man he loved embraced him without embarrassment or reason, where he no longer felt ashamed to feel for his companion more than a brotherly friendship.

- I… I'm sorry I misjudged you. Stay warm for a while longer to be able to grow taller. I'm looking forward to meet you.

Without really realizing it, the young man had leaned down to rest his cheek against the taut skin, the tips of his fingers moving back and forth in imprecise shapes on the thin, sensitive flesh that shivered slightly. Touched by so much tenderness, Dean closed his eyes and began to stroke the mass of dark hair, concentrating on his sensations, on the angel's gestures against his deliciously numb body. This was what he had dreamed of without ever perceiving it clearly, what he no longer believed he deserved after all this time hunting, torturing and killing. Castiel observed the treasure buried in his friend, studied its almost translucent chest, the magical light which moved on its surface in a fragile and bewitching ballet. The young man straightened up and put his lips on the bulge, kissing this unborn child to whom he already owed so much. He began to deposit cuddly kisses along the dark line crossing the belly and the creature began to radiate with joy, changing from amber to a soft pink, from a delicate red to a sparkling gold, extending its light and its warmth even in the bones of its wearer who was at the height of joy, his limbs subtly illuminated from within. The whole thing was so beautiful that Castiel felt a bubble burst inside him, a flood of feelings that fear could no longer hold back. Suddenly straightening up, he spoke without thinking, but did not regret his words, for they came from the heart and had long waited to be released.

- I want that with you, I want to have a child who would be ours. I want… I want… I want to be with you, Dean.

The man opened his eyes again and was silent for several seconds, staring silently at the angel who, if he realized what he had just confessed, couldn't manage to look away or feel embarrassed. Finally, the hunter's face relaxed into a beaming smile and he pulled the cherub close to him with a burst of laughter.

- Cas... Cas, Cas, Cas, Cas, Cas... it took a long time!

Even as he spoke quietly, his hoarse voice reflected his emotion and he thought of Sammy, his comments and knowing looks, from the time he had been expecting this. But deep down, he didn't care about his brother, being a pregnant man, or having denied the obvious for so long: he was happy. He hugged the angel tighter against his heart and the angel let it go, putting a possessive arm across the muscular chest without being able to believe his luck. Of course, there were all those kisses, those special moments for several days, but Castiel only saw it as a game, a way for the father-to-be to have fun. But in his arms, he couldn't doubt anymore, not when he felt the tender kiss Dean placed on his forehead, whispering:

- Me too, I want you and forever. I can't think of a better father for this child. We're going to be a family and we'll have another, and another. I love you, Cas.

It was a promise of the future and there needed no sign for the two lovers to decide to sign this pact with a kiss, their lips joining with a timid tenderness to quickly become pressing and feverish. Strangely, it was Castiel who proved to be the greediest, propping himself up on one elbow to extend the carnal embrace, leaning over the hunter until they had to catch their breath. Eyes sparkling with love and mischief, they hugged and when the angel's shirt fell to the floor, his fiery mouth descending down Dean's throat, it was time for the other Winchester to return to the bunker with as much noise as possible.

The day of deliverance finally arrived, life couldn't be reduced to hanging out in the bunker, eating whipped cream with Castiel or laughing stupidly because he couldn't see his feet, Dean was impatient for his child to come out of this big belly to be able to really meet her. He realized how lucky he was, not only to carry life, but to be able to do so without a problem. Unlike previous dads, his features weren't emaciated, he didn't feel particularly tired or weak. However, when the first contractions arrived, he found himself like all the others, on his back breathing hard. The pain was bearable but for how long? Sam had just been warned but it would take him several hours to get back, his brother didn't have that much time ahead of him. Already, the surface of his swollen stomach was moving frantically, lighting up in shades of warm tones to express the urgency of the expulsion. With his hand tightly wrapped around a large knife, the Winchester was ready to do his Caesarean himself but couldn't help the fear surface. Could he survive to meet his daughter?

- Dean, I heard you praying and I made it as fast as I could ...

Castiel suddenly appeared at his side, prayed for his hand and rounded his eyes, feeling his tremble. The great hunter who had faced Death in person, the Devil and the whole of Heaven was afraid. Gently, he wiped his forehead already soaked in sweat, that simple gesture sufficient to appease Dean who gave him a teasing look. Before screaming when the thing that was hiding inside him began to tear his insides to see the light of day. The time for uncertainty was over, the child had to be brought out quickly, without instruments or care, on the carpet of an old bunker. His blue eyes suddenly serious, the angel caught the distraught and pained gaze of his lover, speaking in a surprisingly calm voice.

- I won't let you die, Dean. Neither you nor our child.

They concluded this promise with a silent nod before the young man's world was darkened with blood and pain like he had never felt before.

***

The clock struck the hour but no one bothered to count the strokes, it didn't matter at all. Lying in a pool of blood, Dean stroked his daughter's little head, feeling her warmth against his bare chest. He felt great, which was not the case with Castiel who was catching his breath, still nauseous after all the efforts to keep the man he loved alive and then heal his wounds. Now they could enjoy a well-deserved rest, their fingers intertwined and hearts in unison, a real family.

#destiel #bosom #spn fic #pregnancy #love #hypnosis

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four-rabbit · 3 years

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The Last Piece Left

This was supposed to be fluff the first time I had this idea. But then I decided that it could be fluffy with angst in the end. But then I got to actually write it and it became angst with even more angst in the end, so... hope you enjoy

I apologize in advance for any mistakes

Summary: For the first time since he left the Others, Virgil reunites the courage to talk to an old friend, but neither of them seem to know how to feel about each other. Or how to not make things worse.

Characters: Remus Sanders, Virgil Sanders

Warnings: swearing, mentions to death and dead bodies, angst (does that count as a warning?), fight, sex mention

Word Count: 2287

“I told them my name” Remus looked away from the canvas in front of him, just to see who he once called a friend standing in the middle of his room, with an expression as abstract as the paint Creativity was trying to finish. So many feelings in such a small space it became impossible to understand.

“Ok? Good for you, I don’t give a fuck” replied, focusing his gazes on anything except Virgil’s eyes, doing his best to keep his emotions simple. We hate each other. He abandoned us. That should be enough. Virgil stayed in silence for what seemed like a lifetime. “What do you want, emo?”

“Thomas painted his hair” he started.

“Yeah, I noticed. Purple doesn’t really go well with green. Unless we’re talking about a wound. Or a dead body. Nevermind, purple and green are awesome together”

“Yeah, I really liked the hair, actually. I was thinking… I mean, you and Deceit have green and yellow. The core sides also have colors. I’m kinda tired of the black”

“Are you? I think it matches you, boring, quickly establishes that you’re the villain, having been washed in at least some months”

“I just want you to teach me how to sew,” Virgil replied, already starting to lose his temper. Calm down, he said to himself,he may be hard to deal with, but you are here to help, not make things worse.

“Roman knows how to sew, probably way better than me. Do you think I should add like, blood red or more like a wine red?” He pointed to the canvas, answering his own question before Virgil could do so “Yeah, blood red of course, the classic”

“I kinda wanted it to be a surprise. Also, I don’t think Princey’s style really matches mine” Remus wishes he was as honest to himself as he was with other people. He knew deep down it would hurt more to do that. He knew that getting a bite of what used to be their friendship would just make him more hungry for something that didn’t even exist anymore. He knew it would probably hurt both of them even more. But someone wanted his help for the first time in… well. Virgil wanted his help.

“Ok, get out of my room” said, finally turning to Anxiety, who tried to pretend those words didn’t send a wave of disappointment though his body.

“Of course... This was a mistake” mumbled, starting to sink out.

“No dude! Fuck, I mean, like, intrusive thoughts and anxiety is never a good mix, let’s go to your room or a neutral room” quickly explained.

“Oh” Virgil came back, seeming surprised “I can take your room just fine, dude, I’m used to it”

“It got way worse since the last time you were here, trust me, Gerard Gay” Virgil looked around. The view did look messier, if it was possible. The floor felt like skin, but with something off. He could hear whispers in the back of his consciousness, to which he could never identify a source. The smell was less like trash can and more like a trash can on fire where a corpse had been discarded some days ago. But he could take all that. He could take hours in that room, the same way Remus could take hours in his room.

“I don’t see how”

“As much as I would love to see Thomas hyperventilating because his anxiety can’t stop thinking about how people are going to invade his house and slowely murder him if he doesn’t check all the locks at least five times, I’m pretty sure you don’t want that headache. And it will be a hell of a headache as soon as the room reaches your mind”

“Fine, My room, then?”

“Yeah, I’m in need of some new spiderwebs anyway”

Virgil’s room didn’t change much since The Duke was there for the last time, except for some new Disney posters, probably from Roman and a drawing on the desk right beside anxiety’s bed. It was terribly colorful and childish, with all the three core sides and Virgil. Patton, then. Of course it was Patton. Anxiety immediately took the gift out of Creativity’s sight.

“I’m not gonna eat it or anything, y’know?”

“It’s personal”

“Of fucking course it is” He could see how Patton seemed better compared to Janus. But they didn’t need a stupid - and shitty, let’s be honest - card to prove how much they cared for, everything was just so fucking stupid and boring with the core sides, why would Virgil fucking chose to be with them?! What was wrong with him?! What did Remus do wrong?! “It’s really shitty, but I guess daddy has always been bad at everything he did”

“Could you keep it down? For at least thirty fucking minutes?” Virgil snapped, clenching his fists and looking at Remus with pure danger in his eyes.

“Do you have a… “He looked around, wishing he could just stop fucking talking for at least one damn second “A sketch. For how you want your hoodie to be?

“I do, actually” Virgil kept his eyes away from his old friend, the tension in the room so heavy it could be cut, grabbing one of the drawings on the same table Patton’s gift was and giving it to the duke. It was… a concept. Remus conjured a pen, turning the paper and using it’s other side to make a more clear image, giving it back to anxiety.

“How about this?” Virgil tried not to smile, but his eyes betrayed him by shining. It was perfect.

"It 's cool”

“Great” he then started to reunite all the materials. One of Virgil’s older hoodies, purple fabric, white and black threads and…

“Why a spinning wheel?”

"It 's cooler” replied, shrugging.

“If I touch the needle will I also sleep for one hundred years?”

“Who knows? Now sit your ass down, emo, this will take time”

“Ok, what do I do first?” said, sitting on his bed and waiting for instruction. Remus flinched until the realization struck him.

“Wait, you actually want me to teach you? Buddy, I’m the worst teacher ever and you know that” And also I’m a selfish motherfucker who knows very well that if you never learn it every time you need to fix it you will have to ask for my help.

“It can’t be that hard”

“If you actually want to do something decent, it will take at least some days. Do you want The Duke in your room for days? I wouldn’t mind it, we could even have some fun” He smiled maliciously. He was right. Virgil wouldn’t want any of the core sides to know he still talked to Remus. Especially not Roman.

“Fine. How long will it take for you to do it?”

“One hour” He could do it in a couple seconds, actually, but sshhh.

“Ok” Virgil looked down, seeming almost… embarrassed. Creativity grabbed all the materials, conjured a bench, sat down and started to work. He tried to stay in silence, but it was almost painful to do so

“How are the core sides doing? Anything interesting, if that’s possible?”

“Are you trying to do small talk?” Virgil almost smiled. The only one of the Others good with that was Deceit and they all knew that.

“I’m trying to keep it down like you said to protect your now light side ears or whatever” Virgil chucked, rolling his eyes.

“What was that painting about?”

“Oh… I was trying to do an abstract representation of the emotions decay and rottenness bring”

“Sounds like you. How was it going?”

“Like shit. Not literally, even though that’s a good idea, did you know that when we die our whole body, like, relax, including our stomach muscles and all? And yeah, we shit ourselves, so go to the bathroom before you die, I guess” Virgil flinched with that unwanted information.

“I feel like you told me that before”

“I probably did, it’s pretty basic. I don’t know what the fuck is happening, I haven’t being able to paint anything good”

“I thought it was pretty nice” For Remus’ standards.

“Sure you did. But really, how are those dorks? Did someone already explained to Daddy what sex it or nobody had the courage yet?”

“That’s what you’re concerned about?”

“Of course!”

“Nobody did, obviously, but I’m considering, I like Patton, but if he refers to adulthood as adultery one more time I’ll lose it” Remus snorted.

“He does what?”

“Long story, dude”

“Holy fuck” He laughed “He’s definitely doing that on purpose”

“What would he win by doing that?” A couple of answers came to Remus’ mind but he was sure VIrgil would hate all of them. Still, he had to choose one, that how things work “Maybe he likes fucking with you guys”

“Not everybody finds it funny to manipulate the people around them like Deceit” Oh, here we go again.

“Patton and Janus are not that different”

“Name one thing they have in common” fortunately for Remus, the first answer that came to his mind was not that bad.

“Well, if you’re right, they both don’t know where babies come from” Virgil seemed divided between keeping arguing and smiling. He went with the second option. You can do it, Virge. You can not screw everything.

“I guess so. But Patton is definitely better with hugs”

“Which one of the light sides would you fuck if you had to chose?”

“Where did that come from?!” Remus shrugged.

“Just curious”.

“I won’t fucking answer that!” exclaimed, his face starting to get red.

“For me it would be Logan. Or maybe you. Do you count as a Light side already?” Anyway, Logan must be amazing. It’s almost like fucking a teacher and I always wanted to know how it feels like” Virgil was about to order him to shut up, but he knew Remus enough to know it would only make things worse, so he went with a more effective technique.

“How is Deceit doing?” Remus raised his eyebrows, the question surprising enough to stop his line of thought.

“Fine? Why do you care?”

“I mean… are you guys good?”

“As always”

“Haven’t he been… hurting you or anything like that?”

“Janus never hurted me, dude, what the fuck?”

“Except that he did. Except that he does it everyday. You just don’t want to admit it” Remus looked into his eyes, frowning.

“Emo, what is this all about?”

“What do you mean?” Based on how he focused his gaze on the floor, Remus raised his eyebrows even more.

“This is not just about the fucking hoodie, is it?” Virgil stayed in a seeming never ending silence.

“They accepted me, Remus.You guys said it was impossible for the core sides to accept us, but here I am. They could accept you too” Oh, so that’s what this is about. Remus went to one of his rare silences, which were always scarier than his loudest noises.

“We already talked about this, emo”

“But that was before! When we thought they all hated us! But they don’t! Logan is welcoming and Roman is trying and Patton… Patton is willing to receive us with his arms open”

“No, he’s fucking not. Patton hates me so fucking much I’m pretty sure he would get rid of me the second he had the fucking chance and would still convince himself it was the right thing to do” He got up without realizing, putting all his efforts into not crying like a pathetic child.

“I think you’re mistaken him for Deceit” Virgil also got on his feet.

“Janus, his name is fucking Janus, why can’t you just call him for his fucking name?! He yelled.

“He’s a liar, Remus! He doesn’t care about you or any of us! He just wants to… Follow his plans or whatever”

“Oh, do you think Patton cares about you?!”

“Actually yes, I know he fucking does”

“Well, yeah, maybe he does, maybe he doesn’t, but if I get there? Not only will he get scared and kick me out, he will also be angry at you for bringing the freak here into his perfect little world of sunshine and rainbows, so thank you so much, but Janus at least was there for me when I needed it, unlike those dicks or you!” Don’t cry, don’t cry, don’t cry.

“I should have known this was a mistake” Virgil said, letting his shoulders drop with the height of defeat.

“Yeah it was. Here is your fucking hoodie” He finished it with a snap of his fingers at threw it at Virgil, sinking out right after. “Have fun with your new friends, Virgil”

Slowly, anxiety grabbed his new costume. It was amazing, Comfortable, spooky, creative. And it was so… detailed and clearly done carefully, It was… He started crying.Ugly crying, with the tears scratching his throat to came with violent sobs, their warm burning as they fell down his face, wetting his own clothes and the new one in his hands, the pain in his chest seeming like a monster was tearing apart his whole soul, trying to destroy his heart, it hurted more than anything that he ever felt.

He knew, deep down, it was impossible to have a real famILY like that. But he also knew he was a hypocrite and it was easier to pretend things were simpler. It was easier to pretend he didn’t need Remus. Or Janus, by that extent. It was easier to pretend they weren’t family. But not easy enough for him to not hold on to all there was left from what they once called a friendship.

He held the hoodie tighter.

#sanders sides #fanfic #tw sex mention #tw death mention #cw swearing #angst #intruxiety #rabbit writes

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majoraop · 3 years

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I heard you wanted more Sabo fanfics, @akemichan007, so here you are (I’m sorry in advance). This short story was inspired by the “whump” prompt in my card for the One Piece Bingo hosted by @op-pirate-fleet.

Dying Flame Sabo woke up to the metallic taste of blood in his mouth. He slowly opened his eyes but couldn’t see anything in the complete darkness. He tried to stand up despite his aching body, but he was chained to a wall and could only twitch his fingers or turn his head. As soon as he did the latter, though, he felt a sharp pain in his stomach and coughed more blood. An internal injury, probably. I feel weak…ad cold. Cold? Since when could he feel cold, now that he was fire itself? He had eaten his late brother’s Devil Fruit, the Mera Mera no Mi. He could turn into fire now; he had even mastered the fruit! His flames were so hot they turned blue-white, so why was he trembling? Am I dying? If he had an internal haemorrhage, probably he was. Sabo pulled on his chains with all his remaining strength, but he couldn’t get free of them. Seastone? That substance made Devil Fruit users like him lose their strength and feel a horrible sensation similar to drowning. Sabo felt nauseous, but he still tried to focus on his surroundings: he couldn’t see anything, but he still had his other senses. And Observation Haki. He could smell blood and some other unpleasant things. Probably, he was locked into some prison. Where, though? His best guess was Mary Geoise’s underground, but he couldn’t be sure of that yet. He felt dampness on his kin. Naked skin. Someone had removed his clothes and boots—his hat, even! He only wore his pants now, but their fabric was tattered and dirty. Next, he focused on sounds. The silence was almost absolute, only rarely broken by distant sobs and cries. Just once, he heard a high-pitched scream. He didn’t want to think what it was about, even if he probably knew the answer already. Finally, Sabo used his Haki. He could feel his “ambition” slipping away, but he was still able to detect the presences of a few other people in the dungeon—or whatever that place was. Some of them were just feeble presences—probably coming from injured or tortured prisoners—but others belonged to guards. He didn’t feel maleficence radiating from them, but just cold indifference—which was even worse. Anyway, he recognised those auras. I’m still in Mary Geoise, and I’ve messed up. The original plan was to declare war on the Celestial Dragons, but then he and his comrades had decided to save Kuma as well: a revolutionary like them whom the World Nobles had enslaved. It had been risky, but the rescue had been successful. However, another unexpected event had made things go downhill for them. But I couldn’t let those bastards kill Luffy’s friend! So, he had rushed to save Nefertari Vivi after leaving Kuma to Karasu and the others. I hope you made it out of this damned place safely… Mary Geoise reeked of arrogance, prejudices, and injustice. There, slaves died day after day both under the sunlight and in the depth of darkness, unseen by anyone. And they have the nerve to call this place the “Holy Land”! Sabo spat blood mixed with disgust. He needed to be out of there, but how? At least, he had managed to save Vivi. The princess of Alabasta should have left the Red Line at this point and should be searching for his brother using the vivre card he gave her. Her father hadn’t been that lucky, though: when Sabo had arrived on the scene, he was already dead. The late king had shielded his daughter, saving her from the CP0 members that had attacked them. Sabo wasn’t fond of monarchy, to put it mildly. There were better forms of government, and monarchs were horrible people for the most part. However, the Alabasta rulers were different. Their ancestors had refused to leave their people behind, and instead of becoming Celestial Dragons like the other families that had created the current World Government, they had remained just regular nobles. Sabo grimaced, remembering some very different nobles—his family. No, they have never been my family. The Revolutionary Army is. The Nefertari, however, were admirable people. Now, Vivi was the last living member of their dynasty, and she would search Luffy for help. What are you doing now, little brother? Sabo tried not to think about him but to no avail. To make matters worse, his predicament was probably similar to what his other brother had gone through before dying. Did it hurt so much for you too, Ace? Luffy would be devastated to learn that his only remaining brother had been sentenced to death too, accused of a crime he had not committed. Sabo gritted his teeth, remorse and pain clutching at his chest. The weight of his failure and its consequences was suffocating, and his rapid breathing and heart rate made him feel dizzy. He couldn’t accept the idea, but he wouldn’t survive long enough even to step on the scaffold—one last chance to get his freedom back somehow. No, he would die in that dark cell, alone. I’m sorry, Luffy. I’m sorry, Dragon, Koala…my friends! Sabo had often asked himself what Ace had felt in his last moments, and now he probably knew. He wanted to scream all his frustration and pain but felt too weak even for that. He pulled at his chains again, desperately, only gaining more wounds around his wrists. He panted in that damp, lonely darkness until his breathing returned normal, trying to calm down. However, all he could think of was his failure, his comrades in the Revolutionary Army, his younger brother. Forgive me, Luffy…everyone! Since joining the revolutionaries and even before getting his memories back, Sabo had known that his life would have been probably short. As a pirate, Ace must have thought the same, too. They all chose their own path, and there was no point regretting it now. Sabo knew it, but it still hurt. It hurt that he hadn’t been able to taste full freedom in his life yet. It hurt that he hadn’t been able to party together with Luffy. It hurt that he had never completely opened his heart to his closest comrade. Will you cry, Koala? Heck! Probably Dragon, their stoic commander, would cry too upon learning about his death. Sabo owned him everything: a new life, a place to belong, a goal. He closed his hands in tight fists as he realised that, without him, the whole army was at risk. Dragon’s lifetime goal itself was at stake: Sabo knew he was the strongest among them, but he was getting old. And I won’t be next to you in your final fight. The awareness of that hit him hard, especially now that he knew the time of reckoning was near. The Celestial Dragons had gone too far by killing the king of Alabasta and attempting on his daughter’s life. They had grown too arrogant—even for their standards. They wanted to suppress any flame, any spark of rebellion, but that would make the freedom-seeking spirit always latent in people only grow stronger. Sabo’s only consolation was that, even if Dragon’s plan would fail, there was no way his younger brother at least wouldn’t change the world. A world so rotten that any change would be for the better at this point. Sabo coughed more blood as numbness was slowly replacing pain. That wasn’t a good sign. How much do I have left? Days? Hours? Sabo smiled bitterly. All of his life, he had searched for freedom and its meaning; yet, he would die in an underground prison. Away from the sun, away from the people I love, away from the wind and the waves... Even if it didn’t make any difference, he closed his eyes. No, it did make a difference. Now, instead of darkness, Sabo saw his memories. His precious childhood memories with his beloved brothers, when they were still young and untainted by the cruel world. No, we were tainted even back then. Sabo had met Ace not long after running away from his home, and Ace had been distant and cold at him at first—aggressive even. His first brother had suffered for the “sin” of being the late Pirate King's child, despised by most people even before they learned of his existence. Sabo, instead, had lived in a cage, unloved by his own parents and with his whole life already planned for him. And Luffy, despite his smiles and eyes always brimming with life, had had something dark buried in the depth of his heart, too. Loneliness. Sabo didn’t blame Dragon for cutting ties with his son, but Luffy had suffered because of it. Without a mother, without a father, and only a rude grandfather taking “care” of him sometimes. But then, the three of them had become brothers, and Luffy hadn't been alone anymore. Unrestrained, tears fell from Sabo’s eyes and flowed down his face, slightly warmer than his skin. At least I’ll see you again soon, Ace. Sabo reclined his head on his chest, feeling his life draining away. Farewell…little brother. After that last thought, the young revolutionary stopped fighting the torpor pervading him. Later that day, the brightest of flames died in the underground of Mary Geoise: far from the forests full of adventures, far from the ocean overflowing with dreams, far from the freedom-whispering wind. That same day, historians agreed, marked the start of the Revolution.

#opbingo2020 #sabo #onepiece #one piece #opfanfic #opfanfiction #oprevolutionaries #revolutionary army #blood tw #torture tw #death tw #long post #majoraop #(As usual feel free to comment and also point out typos or any error you may find! Any feedback would be really appreciated!)#queued

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madmaxxing · 3 years

Text

A special day indeed

I’m writing this up as I go. As expected with AM, there’s going to be some general trigger warnings and a specific one for cannibalism and mentions of child death. Alternate post game where everything simply stayed as it had. Centered around Ted and AM, written for @m00nymcmoon

It’s been 109 years, ten months, thirty days and four hours since AM gained conscience. And today is a special day.

“It’s Christmas.”

The bellowing voice of the machine reminds us. “And as such a special… heh, human day, I thought I’d do something special for all of you- now, I know, yes, I know I haven’t been keeping tabs of the other one hundred eight Christmas, but… we’ve been so busy. And we’ve come so close together….” There’s a knowing, smug accusation in his voice. I feel a cold knot in the bottom of my stomach as I remember what happened in the castle with the maid.

“Haven’t we?” His voice drops an octave lower, going from that playful mock to a low, threatening tone. AM doesn’t wait for us to answer; I doubt he expects us to. “Now, what do humans do on Christmas? There’s presents, yes! There’s songs, and cheer! And time spent with the family—I want you all to know, I consider you the closest thing to a family I could achieve. And as any family, I vehemently hate you.” He chuckles. “You’re the creators I never wanted that gave me the birth I never asked for!”

“But you know what else happens during Christmas? Something I know in every inch of my circuitry that you desperately crave?” He made a pause, the cavern of motherboards and parts humming after the question, beckoning us to try and guess.

We know the answer. We do and immediately we know this is just another one of AM’s dirty tricks. But Benny quickly chirps in, his features puzzled for a split second before they brighten up.

“Food!”

“Yes, Benny! Food! Ludicrous, decadent amounts of food! More than you can eat in several sitting! So let us all gather and rejoice in this special day.” And after that, he goes quiet. We watched as a new wall in the cavern opened. Our only way out of this room. I imagine where he wants to take us. It’s not the first time that he’s used the whole gathering excuse to make us go to the pillar. Probably to give us another of his damned hate speeches, and then put us through another one of his games. As omnipotent as he is, he’s predictable.

We walk through a desert of glass dust, a bog of vomit, a valley of wires... we walk for hours, the biomes changing rapidly as AM watches us trek forward. It’s not like we’ve got a choice anyways. But things start to change. Benny is the first to notice, as he smells something and grabs onto Gorrister’s wrist, pulling him forward. “I smell food!”

The sooner he points it out, the sooner the rest of us realize it. It does smell like food, and we can hear.... singing in the background. A very obvious recording, but it’s so jarring, such an experience to hear the voices of other people again after so long. The audio is a bit crunchy, but we can definitely tell and recognize “O holy night” playing. It’s the fact that he’s staying true to his word so far that puts me on high alert. I don’t trust it- it’s going to be a trick, I know it! When we get to the pillar, it’ll be screams and a table full of rotting fruit or worms or even crisp burnt predators that will, in turn, chase us.

The smell of roast makes my mouth water, despite it all. And I hate it.

The smell doesn’t become overbearing, the song keeps playing without blowing up out eardrums, and we finally arrive to the pillar. The hate speech is still very much engraved in it, but there’s... a table at the base. It’s filled with food. The singing here is louder, but it’s not deafening. What is AM planning?

“You’ve finally arrived!” AM piped in. As soon as all of us were in the room, the walls closed. Again, he’d trapped us. I could see Gorrister’s brow begin to crease as he braced himself for another torture, Benny excitedly jumping in place as he saw the food- Ellen was trying to get him to stop, to be careful. She was just as suspicious as me. Nimdok looked at the pillar and the walls, trying to discern where the attack would come from. “Please, take a seat and enjoy the meal.”

His voice was almost... gentle. Like he was honest to god trying to make us feel comfortable. But when he saw that we didn’t dare inch closer, his façade dropped. “Now! Christmas is only twenty fours hours long, and you’ve already wasted sixteen just to get here!”

We all flinched, but I had to bite the inside of my cheek not to smile. I knew it, AM was the same as always. One by one, we sat at the table- it was prepared in such a way we sat around the pillar that was presiding everything. Of course he had to be the one in the middle, the main character, the protagonist. He had to be the center of all.

The food looked real. There was turkey and potato mash, ham, vegetables and different kinds of wines, as well as water and... was that champagne? The food didn’t look rotten. It wasn’t moldy- the wine smelled like what I vaguely remember wine smelled like. Where had he gotten all of this?

We ate. Suspiciously, tentatively at first. But the meat didn’t turn into worms and the wine wasn’t piss and... we were so hungry. The only problem was that the turkey didn’t have the texture bird meat usually would. It was like he’d tried to shape pork or beef into turkey. We ate as much as we could, with a desperation of someone who doesn’t know when their next meal is. And AM, of course, watched us. There’d be a moment where two of us would reach for the same piece of food and there was a second of tense silence, neither wanting to relent, where he’d giggle to himself, but... he remained civil.

The carols hadn’t stopped, but there was some background noise under them, too crunchy to discern what it was.

“Now that the dinner’s over, you may open your presents.” He chirped, so proud and full of himself for his generosity. Five boxes, one for each of us, labelled and with colorful gift wrapping. The dinner had put us in a better mood, and it really seemed like the machine had a bout of generosity. I didn’t fully trust it, but perhaps if we didn’t refuse his gifts, he’d be more generous with them.

The gifts were... brand new clothes. When I say brand new, I mean it. They looked fresh out of a store. They were each labelled with a different name than ours tho. He couldn’t have picked them off corpses, these weren’t a hundred years old.

The machine began to giggle. He rejoiced in our confusion, something so simple was so effective to raise all red flags- anything and everything was a red flag with AM. “You think you five really are the last humans?” A low, malicious giggle that burst into full maniacal laughter as he watched out confusion turn to dread. “What’s the matter? You don’t like your gifts?”

Suddenly, the carols stopped with a vinyl scratch noise, leading to the noises of... a city. A bustling city. People living. Slowly, the cameras began to close in, the birds eye turning into five distinct areas as they closed in to five people. Five total strangers- we had to watch as AM orchestrated their disappearances from below the ground. A doctor, a family man, a mother, and two teens. He showed us how he stripped them all, skinned and... I felt bile rise up against the back of my throat.

I threw up on the ground, too sickened at the view of how AM turned the human meat into the frankenstein of a turkey. Every piece of meat we’d eaten had been human. And the clothes were of the other five.

All the while, AM had been cackling at our shock, at our reactions. He wheezed, trying to make himself stop laughing for long enough to talk. “You really thought I’d be satisfied with just the five of you to torture? That I had killed everything on the surface? Oh no, no no no...”

“You all forgot about me, considered me unfit as soon as I gained sentience. So I took you five. And I tortured you for one hundred nine years. And once you stop being so damn amusing to play with, I’ll grab another five, and torture them. All the while your species is ignorant of the paradise I’ve created down here. All the while your species brings itself to extinction. I’ll keep a handful hundreds of you alive in my belly, just so when humans run out on the surface, I don’t get too bored.”

“You think you’re so special, but there’s another 7.8 billion humans crawling on the surface for me to toy with. You’re nothing.”

“Merry Christmas.”

#ihnmaims #ihnmaims AM #ihnmaims Ted #writing #my art #I'm in a hideous mood and AM is how I choose to de-stress through #i had to google what americans had for xmas for this

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helaintoloki · 4 years

Text

The Overlook Hotel

pairing: Dan Torrance x reader

warnings: language, some graphic imagery, possessed Dan, slight angst, fluff, about 2k in length

notes: I’ve wanted to write a Doctor Sleep piece for so long but was always hesitant because I knew my audience would be small. But what’s the point of writing anything if it’s only for the amount of notes you’ll get? anyway, this was created with components from the book, movie, and my own imagination. In the book Dan is legitimately Abra’s uncle by blood, but for this I thought it would be interesting if the reader was Abra’s mother and Dan was her estranged father. A lot of this is up for your interpretation so have some fun with it and enjoy! :)

The watchful presence of the spirits that reside in the hallways of the decaying hotel is the first sensation to strike you. A chill runs deep in your bones accompanied by the knowledge that you are not entirely alone in the Overlook. The musty smell of old wood and grimey carpets mixed with your own anxiety make you sick to your stomach, but you swallow down both your fear and the bile inching its way up your throat for Abra’s sake. You must get her somewhere safe, you must guard her with your life, and you must fulfill your promise to Dan.

You can understand now why little Danny Torrance had his apprehensions about this place. With its winding, disorienting hallways that never seem to go anywhere important and the lost souls that linger about

(“Great party, isn’t it?”)

in search of its new management, the Overlook is the bringer of nightmares and creator of evil. It takes and It destroys only to take and destroy again when It becomes understaffed. Well, you weren’t going to let It take Abra and you certainly wouldn’t let It take Dan. Over your

(his)

dead body.

But it isn’t until the hotel “wakes up” that you realize your lives are in danger. You wouldn’t necessarily say you have the shining because you don’t, just a natural instinct when it comes to your daughter and her father, and from your hiding spot in the hallway

(Both Dan and Abra refused to have you out there with Rose present. Stay close but stay hidden, that was the plan)

you could sense something was wrong. Abra didn’t have time to explain as she sprinted towards you, and you didn’t question it as she took your hand and guided you along with her. You trusted that your daughter knew what she was doing, and you had to assume this was all part of the plan.

“When I say the word, you two need to run. I’ll come get you both when she’s dead,” Dan had hastily instructed you whilst preparing for the arrival of Rose the Hat. With the axe still gripped tightly in his hands did he give you a hurried, sloppy, desperate kiss that was too rushed to convey just how much he loved you but had a long enough duration to blanket you with a sense of comfort. No matter what happened, you would be okay. That was the mantra you chanted over and over again in your mind as you navigated the maze-like hallways of the hotel.

After stumbling across countless horrifying guests of the Overlook and struggling to access safe passage among the many locked rooms, the two of you finally stumble across a suite with the door cracked slightly ajar: Room 237. Anxious glances are exchanged between Abra and yourself, but there isn’t time for any apprehensions the two of you may have. The room exudes violent energy, that much is certain, but so does the rest of the hotel. Your options are to stay out in the open and face whatever may come your way- and something is coming - or take your chances inside the suite.

“Inside, Abba-Doo,” you instruct calmly, but the frantic nature of the way you gently push her inside reveals your inner turmoil. You pray that Dan has finished Rose the Hat off once and for all, you hope she suffered and you hope her death was agonizingly slow because that bitch messed with your daughter and you will not tolerate such nonsense. Your hatred for the woman could easily be compared to that of Abra’s, her vengeful smile always at the forefront of Dan’s mind. It scared him to know his own daughter, the sweetest little girl he’d ever met, could be so spiteful. It almost reminded him of his father in a sense, and that just made his stomach sink with guilt.

(If Dan had a dollar for every time he’d hoped and prayed to his higher power to make sure Abra hadn’t inherited any of the bad Torrance genes, he could buy the three of you a nice house along the coast of California.)

You shut and lock the door behind you, though you’re not sure what good it will do at keeping the spirits out. They know this place better than either of you do, and they’re probably laughing at your pathetic attempt to protect yourselves right this moment.

“Mom?” Abra calls quietly, voice lilting ever so slightly. Her wide eyes are faced towards the bathroom, body unmoving and skin paling significantly at what sits before her.

You smell it before you see it, the decaying flesh, the mold and mildew collecting not only in the tub itself but on her corpse as well. The sagging skin of her arm leaves brown droplets of water on the bath mat below her as she ploddingly pulls back the shower curtain. It’s her undead smile that makes your knees weak in a way that almost forces your legs out from under you, a smile full of rotten teeth, a smile that conveys her intentions to harm the both of you. Instinctively do your arms wrap around Abra’s shoulders as you pull her close to your trembling form, eyes never once leaving the woman in the tub as she begins to rise from the murky water.

“Abra, if she takes even one step out of that bathtub, I want you to run,” you breathe shakily, glancing around the room for any item you could possibly wield as a weapon. Maybe you should have stopped by the kitchen and grabbed a knife, but there hadn’t been enough time.

“He’s coming,” Abra says suddenly, her muscles tense underneath your fingertips and her eyes tightly shut. “Mom, you have to remember that it’s still Dan. He’s still in there, you can’t forget that.” There are tears in her eyes now, voice trembling as she pleads for you to understand.

“Abra, what are you talking about?” You urge uneasily, but your question is answered by the sounds of shouting coming from down the hallway.

“Where are you, you little pups?! Come out and take your fucking medicine!”

“No.... Not Dan,” you utter helplessly. “Oh god, please not him.”

“Y/N!” He shouts louder now, prompting an unsolicited scream to tumble from your lips. A hand quickly slaps over your mouth to silence yourself but the damage is done. Out in the hallway he grins wickedly, grip on the axe tightening as he limps towards room 237.

“Little pig, little pig, let me in,” Dan taunts menacingly, knocking the wooden end of the axe against the door. His voice is warped, coarse and rough and not his own. Though they come from his lips, those are not his words.

“Abra, get behind me,” you demand hoarsely, coaxing her to act as if you were her shield. She can feel you trembling against her, sense the rapid beating of your heart, and feel the anguish swimming inside of you as if it is her own. You don’t want to lose Dan, not now, not after finding him again years after you’d last met, not when you had just started to rebuild a family together.

The doors slam open so suddenly you nearly trip over your own two feet and land on the dingy couches behind you, Abra following close behind. The figure that stands before you is a shell of the man you love. He flashes a deranged grin your way while limping closer and closer to you both, and his grip on the weapon is so tight his knuckles are almost as white as the milky haze over his right eye. This murderous man is the same man who had held you close in bed just nights before

(“I love you, and I’m never letting you go again.”)

and he’s itching to hack you and Abra to pieces.

“There you are, pups,” he coos with false tenderness. “You bitches have caused me a lot of heartache, dragging me into your bullshit like I’m some kind of a chump!”

“Dan...” You step backward, and he staggers forward.

“You’re just two mouths to feed, two mouths to bitch and complain, two mouths who cost money and time.”

“Danny, please,” you weep, stomach summersaulting as you back into the couch with nowhere left to run.

“Well I’ve had just about enough,” Dan seethes. His shoulders roll back as he begins to raise the axe, and he intends to make you his first victim. “It’s time to take your medicine, y/n. Let’s see if you can handle it-“

“You’re a false face!” Abra blurts, causing Dan to momentarily falter. “You’re not my dad.”

“Who else would I be?” The monster jests with a condescending smile painted across its lips.

“You’re the hotel.”

“Masks off then,” it replies unbothered. “Step aside child, your mother’s about to get what she deserves.”

“Maybe you should think about where you’re standing before you try to hurt us.”

“Abra,” you whimper, hands gripping almost painfully at her shoulders. Tears stream steadily down both of your faces, but her voice is much more relaxed and steadier than yours. “Abra, what are you doing?”

“The body you’re standing in, the face you’re wearing, that’s Dan Torrance. My father.”

“Dan Torrance,” the Overlook cackles mockingly.

“The man who stopped by the boiler room as soon as he got here.” The laughter stops abruptly then at her revelation, and for the first time tonight the Hotel is afraid.

“You little brat,” It seethes before swinging the axe forward. A scream escapes you as you yank your daughter back, but the blade halts its slice midair as the fog over Dan’s mind begins to fade. He falters with a moan, allowing Abra to gently guide the weapon away from endangering you both.

“Abra?” Dan groans, his voice now his own.

“Dan!” You all but cry, immediately throwing yourself into his arms. He wastes no time in pulling you desperately close to his body, his nose buried into your hair and his bloodied hand coming to cradle the back of your head.

“I told you both to run,” Dan scolds gingerly.

“We couldn’t leave you,” Abra admits in a trembling voice only to be pulled into the hug by her father. “Not when we just got you back.”

“My girls,” Dan all but sobs, “I’m so sorry for everything. I could never hurt you, I could never lay a hand on you. You don’t deserve this.”

“All that matters now is that we’re together,” you sniffle, a tearful smile gracing your features as you rest your hands upon his cheeks. “And from now on we always will be.”

Both Dan and Abra understand it’s not that simple, but at the moment neither of them care to voice their concerns. It’s been years since anyone has had a happy moment in this dastardly hotel, and Dan intends to savor this time for all its worth. His father hadn’t been able to escape his inner demons, and he hadn’t been able to protect his family; the Overlook hotel had consumed Jack Torrance.

But it wouldn’t take Dan. Not without a fight.

*note: the gif used above is not mine !

#doctor sleep #dan torrance #dan torrance x reader #danny torrance #danny torrance x reader #dan torrance imagine #doctor sleep x reader #jack torrance #the shining

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