#OH CRAP I REALIZED I FORGOT HIS STITCH

[bellysoupset]

Here’s a fluffy one:

Maybe one night Leo’s stitches are really bothering him and he’s super grumpy, and Jon can’t help but be so amused by Leo’s pouty news and they just cuddle and watch tv and crap. I don’t even know, this is just some cut idea that popped into my brain.

Just a little drabble for the people who asked for some fluffy Leo&Jon!

-----------

"Life sucks and everything hurts," Leo declared, causing Jonah to roll his eyes from where he was, sitting by the dining table they never used and surrounded by books, notebooks, various pens and highlighters.

"Oh yeah?" he said, not looking up from his essay. Graduation was so close he could almost smell it... And his stress levels were off the charts. He needed all the time of studying he could get.

"Yeah," Leo groaned, walking up behind him and pressing his chin to the top of Jonah's head, "stop studying, come cuddle with me."

"I can't, I really gotta finish this," Jonah circled up a word, not that it meant anything, just to show Leo that he wasn't doodling around the page but actually doing something.

"No, you don't need a job. I'm a lawyer, you can be my trophy husband," his boyfriend said and he could hear the pout in his voice, "I won't even make you do housework, just stand there and be pretty."

Jonah snorted, leaning back on the chair and tipping his head back, so he could get a look at him from upside down, "I really can't, Leo, I'm sorry..."

"You hate me," Leo grumbled, pulling back and stomping back to the couch, something he regretted doing since the heavy stepping pulled on his stitches. He reached down with a pained groan and grabbed JD from the ground, where she was happily playing with her wiggly fake mouse, snatching her up so he could cuddle her.

The kitten let out an indignant meow at being held to his chest like a baby and Jonah chuckled at the cry for help, turning his attention back to work.

They sat in silence for the longest time, Leo watching TV on a low volume and petting JD, while Jonah continued to work through his references and outlining his conclusion.

He was so sucked in the work, that he barely realized dinner time had come until Leo pressed a kiss to his temple, startling him.

"Yes?"

"I got us both soup," Leo kissed the side of his head again, "save your document."

"I really can't-"

"Save it."

Hurriedly, realizing Leo's hand was already on the top of his laptop, Jonah pressed ctrl+s, just in time for his boyfriend to shut the device and tug on his chair.

"Come have dinner with me."

JD was sniffing the two deep blue cardboard boxes, her little triangular nose all but touching the corner of one before she tried taking a little bite out of it, causing Jonah to let out a huff and pick her up.

"That's not for little kitties," he scoffed, kissing her between her ears and walking to the kitchen area to get them both metal spoons as well as serve her dinner.

Leo collapsed on the couch with a groan, unboxing the soup, "I still think this packaging is just wasteful," he complained, removing the plastic lid of the mini container that came inside each blue box. Each box came with a bowl of soup in hard plastic, that could later be removed from the cardboard and saved, as well as holes for all the extras, such as cheese and herbs.

"You ordered from my favorite place," Jonah opened a big smile, "is it my birthday and I forgot?"

"Nope," Leo rolled his eyes, passing him his own box, "I just wanted us to cuddle and have a nice night in. Besides, it's freezing and the temperatures are supposed to drop even more tonight, so I guess we can have soup for dinner.'

Jonah sat down next to him, glancing at the balcony, where sure enough he could already see a couple flakes of white snow twirling in the wind, "great," he sighed, moving so Leo could rest against him.

They chatted about anything and everything. Leo had a string of things to bitch about, much to Jon's amusement, complaining from the office work hours, to the fact that it shut down during holiday season, to the spices used in his soup, the weather, his stitches-

"Your stitches?" Jonah interrupted, fishing the noddles at the bottom of his soup, "what about your stitches, baby?"

"They're just itchy and uncomfortable and everything tugs at them and- Hey! What are you doing?! Leo yelped, as Jon reached in and tugged his shirt up to look at the stitches.

"They don't look inflamed, but they're a little pink," Jonah squinted at, finishing up the soup and planting the empty container on their coffee table, pushing Leo's arms out of his way so he could inspect the stitches done. They weren't warm, nor were Leo's cheeks when he cupped his face.

Jonah met his boyfriend's annoyed frown, "are you done?" Leo scoffed, pushing his hands away, "the stitches are fine, I'm fine, I just..."

"You just?" Jon urged him to continue and Leo shrugged.

"Nothing," he turned slightly around so he could press his back to Jonah's chest, now that the food container was out of the way. Leo slid down, enough his head was planted over the other man's stomach and he let out a content noise, "your tummy is all gurgly."

"Peristalsis," Jonah scoffed, leaning back and running his fingers through Leo's hair, "why are you so upset today?"

"I'm not," he answered, "not anymore."

"Uhm," Jon curled a hair strand around his fingers, blushing before saying "we could switch and I could rub your stomach."

Leo frowned, raising his head, "my tummy is not upset. Really, Jon, I'm not si-"

"I know, I meant just... Just as a cuddling thing... Besides you probably need some pomade on those stitches any way."

Leo's pale face changed from healthy, milky white to beet red. He raised his eyebrows, "oh... That's actually.... That's very sweet."

Jonah grinned, getting up to grab the pomade, "I'm full of surprises."

"Yeah, like a piñata," Leo grumbled under his breath, causing Jon to give him the finger as he walked away. Leo let out a sigh, rubbing a hand over his face.

He wasn't being totally honest with Jon, he wasn't just upset because of the uncomfortable stitches or the fucked hours of his office or the fact his boyfriend wasn't giving him enough attention thanks to the approaching graduation... His terrible mood was actually mostly due to the fact it was the later half of November and the holidays were approaching.

Leo was pulled out of his sullen thoughts as Jonah cupped his face upside down, giving him a kiss and then bossing, "move."

They squirmed around on the couch that was a little too small for two big men, until Jonah managed to get on his side next to Leo, resting his cheek in his left hand, his elbow pressed to the cushions to hold his head up, while with the other hand he shoved Leo's shirt up.

"Do you want me to remove it?" Leo asked, amused. This wasn't out of character for Jonah, he was exactly the type to dot on people, he just hated being that much of a softie.

"No, keep it in my way so it can get all sticky and stained," Jonah sassed at him and Leo rolled his eyes, removing the shirt and shivering as he felt Jon plant a dollop of pomade on his belly and then break the little semi transparent pile of goop in the middle with his fingers, scooping up half to dutifully apply it to the stitches on Leo's side.

"It's cold," Leo whined and Jonah ignored him, making sure he didn't miss a single spot.

"There you go," Jonah smiled, before planting his palm over the remaining pomade and rubbing it around, "it'll be less scratchy through the night..."

He trailed off, slumping slightly to press his cheek to Leo's shoulder and continuing to rub his stomach, letting out a small yawn. Leo raised an eyebrow at the gratuitous touching, before sliding down slightly to get more comfortable and starting to toy with Jon's tight curls, wrapping them around his pinky.

The belly rub so soon after eating caused him to burp, but Jon didn't seem to mind, in fact he didn't seem to be paying any attention.

"What are you thinking?" Leo asked quietly, shivering as he felt his boyfriends fingers circle around his belly button and trace the little line of golden hair that disappeared inside his sweatpants.

"I'm thinking about graduation," Jonah mumbled, sounding sleepy, "and work."

"Of course you're thinking of work," Leo huffed, feeling Jon smile against his chest, "so? Wanna talk about it?"

"Nope," Jonah snuggled even closer, giving up on the tummy rub and draping an arm around him. JD climbed on the couch, feeling excluded from the activity and butted her head against his arm, before snuggling up on top of Leo too, receiving lazy pets as Jon seemed to be falling asleep.

"We really should move to the bed," Leo whispered, only to receive an annoyed huff in response, "remember you said this in six hours when you fall off the couch."

"Shut up," Jonah sighed, locking their legs together, "shush now."

Leo rolled his eyes, turning his face so he could press his cheek to the top of Jon's head and smiling as he could feel his boyfriend slump fully against him and JD start to purr.

#FLUFF #belly rubs #leo wagner #jonah banks #cuddling #leans closer to the mic: your honor i love them #mywriting

[kurokrisps]

Watching homestuck fandom fav videos was the best decision I made today. May make part two tomorrow if I'm not lazy.

#soul eater #medusa gorgon #dr. stein #franken stein #medustein #caught like a fly by falling in reverse #anime #traditional art #digital coloring #artist on tumblr #drawingwhileblack #nae draws #OH CRAP I REALIZED I FORGOT HIS STITCH

[harveyb-wabbit92]

My Prompts: Ingo x Reader.

Person A: “Hey…I have a secret, I'm in love with [Your name/Random Character]! But don’t tell them!”

 Person B: “Um, do you remember what you said to me while drugged up at the doctor/dentist?” 

=================================

You had to get your wisdom teeth removed and Ingo agreed to take you to your appointment, he sat in the waiting room playing café mix on his phone when the nurse came out. "Mr. Trevithick?" Ingo put his phone away and stood up and followed her to your room , where you were sitting on the dentist's chair, traveling on the rails of the crazy train by the looks of it, Ingo tried not to chuckle at your dazed and confused expression.

While the nurse told him what to expect and to make sure you don't rip your stitches and such, She went to give him the clipboard when she realized she forgot your sign out sheet, She said she'll be right back and left You and Ingo alone.*Why does time seem to go slower in an office setting?* Ingo thought to himself as he waited for the nurse to return, and help you stay in your seat when he noticed you were slipping out of the chair.

You were giggling at the mute Tv there was commercial for gear station playing it was pretty mundane, but in your drug out haze it was comedy gold! You wished Ingo was here to enjoy it, before turning your head and saw Ingo starring at you? "Holy crap I'm a wizard!" you slurred in awe as Ingo chuckled. "Really now, how are you a wizard?" he inquired as you went on a non-sensical explanation on how you saw him on the the Tv! And wished he was here, and now he was! Ingo's jaw quivered as he tried not to laugh. 

He took a sharp breath and said. "Want to know secret?" your brows furrowed and nodded. "I was here the whole time." He lost it as your jaw dropped; mind completely blown! "No way!" you exclaimed in disbelief Ingo snickered while shushing you, a few seconds later was Ingo managed to settle you down, you turned to him and said. "Hey...I have a secret," Ingo hummed curiously. "I'm in love with Ingo, but don't tell him!~" you broke down laughing while Ingo stared at you blankly as he processed what you just said to him. 

In seconds Ingo's whole face was cheri-berry red. "Y-y-you...i-i wha-wha." he stammered incoherently as the nurse finally returned with your papers, Needless to say it was an awkward drive home as Ingo's mind kept replaying what you had said to him at the dentist, He didn't know how to deal with this especially since he desperately hoped you were telling the truth, the while other half kept saying you were drugged and didn't mean a word of it!

the next day you were sobered up you took the cotton balls out of your mouth and went downstairs to ea...drink breakfast as you couldn't eat solid food at the moment, when you got to your living room you jumped nearly six feet in the air, when you saw Ingo sitting on your couch, staring blankly into space a light blush adorning his features. "Ingo?" the subway master snapped out of his daze. "is everything okay?" you asked as Ingo winced which told you that everything was not in fact okay "It depends. Um, do you remember what you said to me while drugged up at the dentist?” Ingo inquired your heart sped up as he said this. 

What did you do? had you said said something that offended him? You tried to think back on your fuzzy memories... You remembered a wizard....Then suddenly it hit you! and your whole body felt hot. "Oh..Oh no, That's not how I wanted to it go.." you moaned plopping down on your chair and burying your face into your hands, beyond humiliated, as Ingo gawked at you excitedly. 

"So...You meant what you said?" you nodded wanting noting more then to crawl into a hole and die, knowing Ingo doesn't feel the sam- You felt something warm press gently against your forehead and you looked up just as a flustered Ingo pulled away... did he just? "D-did you just??" Ingo covered his face with his hat,  If he could go any redder he'd be tomato, "I *ahem* love you too." He mumbled as you grabbed him in a big hug, you owed him a big kiss once your mouth was healed!

#pokemon fanfiction #pokemon imagines #pokemon x reader #submas #subway boss ingo #subway boss ingo x reader #tw: drugs #tw: dentist

[steve0discusses]

S5 Ep 29 Part 2: Welcome to !NotEgypt

Fun fact, just finished up a project of doing a book cover for someone who was like “can you do stitches, like in cross stitching?” and I was like “oh, I happen to already have a bunch of brushes like that, actually” and the reason why I had all these digital cross stitching brushes? Because I wanted to make Yugioh fanart with them as a joke. Which was such a funny thing to resurface a few years later. I did not expect that cross stitch gag to help me get real work.

So make fanart, guys. It’s good for you.

Now last we left off, Pharaoh was vacuumed up into a tunnel made out of CGI. In Photoshop, to make this texture you click “filter>render>clouds.” We’re not going to see too much of this in the caps though because it was quite blurry.

While he’s there, Bakura’s ghost just kinda jumps out of the puzzle around Pharaohs neck--sounds weird but thankfully I have a visual for you (which is still weird).

Lots of levels in this episode, you got a ghost living in a different ghost (although the puzzle is on Yugi, so this is the ghost manifestation of the puzzle that Bakura is leaping out of, but don’t think about it.)

And the ghost that was living in Ryou decided it was freakin done with this mess, and in a huge beam of light just jumped directly out of this poor boy.

Congratulations, Ryou Bakura, you are no longer possessed.

He had a total of 2 seconds to enjoy it before his head hit the cement.

(read more under the cut)

I assume that he probably off-screened the Ishtar family, because we get no mention of how he ended up on this stairwell unseen. Just a blur of stuff happening because we don’t have any more time to stuff something into this episode.

Almost like there’s so much going on here it should’ve focused on this stuff instead of all that filler. And as entertaining a lot of that filler was, boy does this arc decide some of it just never happened. Not that Yugioh was ever that heavy on the continuity.

So the 2 parts of Bakura’s ghost decide to become 1 ghost, and I can no longer use the joke that the relationship between Yugi and Tea is a foursome. Their relationship on Facebook went back from “It’s complicated ;) ;) ;)” to “It’s complicated  🥱 “

(I just realized Facebook didn’t exist when this episode came out, holy crap.)

Meanwhile in the Ishtar Foyer, they are recovering from the many beams of light that just occurred so no one has noticed Bakura is passed out on the steps about 15 feet behind them. I really hope someone finds Bakura because I don’t know much about the sands of desert, but I have been raised to believe every tomb in Egypt is full of five million poisonous scorpions. Someone please save the nasty boy from the scorpions.

Yugi is very upset about losing his ghost, and at first I was like “hey, is this scene here a throwback to S1, when Yugi was also sobbing on the ground after breaking up with his ghost?” And so I went back to S1, and youknow, Yugi ends up sobbing on the ground so often during this show, that this isn’t so much a throwback as it is just Yugi every 5-10 episodes or so. I kind of forgot what a freakin disaster Yugi is because I’ve gotten very used to it.

Speaking of disasters, Shadi has decided to show up.

This show loves a Matrix plot so much, lets go over our Matrixes, a recap:

-Kaiba’s MMO he made in VR that never got officially launched (I hope) that was mostly offbrand pokemon, mazes, and dragons

-Gozaburo’s MMO he made to keep Noah Kaiba busy (it didn’t) and potentially trap all mankind into (which honestly is a strange business model). Could only be escaped by either going to the arcade where Johnny Steps once dance-faught with Tea, or by abducting Mokuba and becoming Mokuba (which is much easier)

-That time Mai got trapped in the Shadow Realm and thought everyone was having fun without her (also she was being slowly buried in quicksand but she didn’t care about that as much as the FOMO)

-That time Joey got trapped in the Shadow Realm while fighting in a tournament and he had to win a tournament to wake up from the Shadow Realm and go back to the original tournament.

-That time that Alister created a world to show Kaiba that Gozaburo ran over his brother with tanks???

-Shadi’s Pyramid In India that Matrixed Alexander the Freakin Great as well as the Ghost that haunted Alexander the Freakin Great (which is also the ghost living in Bakura don’t think about it).

-Pharaoh’s Memories, which, looking at our other list of Matrixes here, are so incredibly Not Real People that he’s interacting with, but I don't know if he knows that. Even after all of these Matrixes, he seems to think it’s not a simulation.

Anyway, Tristan suddenly realizes something and brings up a plot Point from like S2.

Congratulations if you have been watching from S2 and remembered any of this when it happened in S5. I only remember this because I write a meticulous blog about it.

RIP the Shadi’s Wacky Pyramid in India Plotline, I can’t believe the show just decided to de-canonize it so quickly, hahaha. There was too much Yugi/Tea Shipping in that arc for the creators of this show to commit to it, lets be honest. Maybe the India arc was made after this one? But like...it wasn’t, right?

Lets check out Pharaoh’s memories, shall we?

So, in a big beam of light that Pharaoh has no control over, he becomes--himself!

It is nice to see him as actually Egyptian, which is a pharaoh that we don’t ordinarily see. He still looks a lot like Yugi, but the artists did their work to make it different enough that he finally looks like he’s not just Yugi’s Dad or older brother. Also that wig is a LOT (because this was Egypt, so it would likely be a wig), but I want to note some of the hair spikes are actually part of a crown, which is easier to see in other caps. Kind of a cute touch, I like that.

++++++++++++RANT ABOUT THE OUTFIT YOU CAN SKIP++++++++++++++

Mind you, this is like the aftertaste of an Egyptian outfit from this time period, but the influences are there. Like I don’t want to do a deep dive into Egyptian clothing and design (although deep dives like that are very accessible right now, which is nice) but I want to note that this episode features beads.

Thank you, show, for remembering that ancient people were whole hog about beads. It’s an extra thing to draw, sure, but you gotta put beads on your ancient peoples. Egyptians, in particular, had a hell ton of beads.

But are there beads on Pharaoh and the others? Not really, that’s hard to draw, instead they have pieces of plate armor. In ancient times in Northern Africa you don’t see much of any armor at all because it’s a freaking desert. However, it’s hard to tell if this is actually plate mail, or an artistic interpretation of what would have actually been decorative pieces stitched together like a beaded necklace.

Also, this is Yugioh, so their tech was probably not the same as our universe’s tech (like they had magical creatures and stuff) so I can let it go that we’re 300 years before the Bronze Age and he’s got a bunch of plated stuff. You have to have that tech in order to make the millennium items anyway. (although there was metallurgy way before the Bronze Age, I just don’t know too much about historical metallurgy to care because this is a fantasy show anyway)

Like I would love to see a historically accurate Yami outfit drawn. There’s probably one around somewhere because trying to draw something historically accurate is so vogue right now. Then again, this probably hasn’t been done because a.) There’s not to much extant pieces left from 3000 BC to copy, and b.) none of the historical costuming sticklers really care about Egypt, which is a whole other rant.

Something I will bring up though, is that the side characters in Egypt wear a lot of cloth that looks like straight up tunics and knee-length skirts, probably because like...they had to cover up for TV. You can’t have your ladies just shirtless with see through skirts, like how historically accurate can you really get for daytime TV? Sure this show had a couple of attempts at suicide and killed quite a few people but a boobie? Never in a thousand years. They can’t even show Pharaoh boobs anymore.

But when you look at depictions of Egyptian wraps, there’s a lot of really fun shapes there that I wish the show had taken advantage of. Lots of wild hangings they had on the front of their tunics back then. But Instead it leans on simplicity, and then they end up drawing just so many folds anyway I don’t know why they didn’t just go for it and do something weirder on a show that already loves weird fashion.

+++++++++++++++++++++++END RANT+++++++++++++++++++++++++++

And also this isn’t enough color for Egypt but they probably decided on that so we wouldn’t lose the center of focus. But I’ve already gone over how garish the past was and how I wish we’d just draw the past being colorful as hell.

Anyways Grandpa’s here. The Eyes from the abyss. Just looking up at me from under that brim. Those intense awful eyes.

*slow claps*

Remember when Alexander was like “I really looked up to you, Pharaoh.” What a freakin liar! Pharaoh was on this King seat for like 3 minutes. Good for you, Alexander, what a way to lie directly through your teeth.

Honestly I thought this was hilarious. Maybe he lives a little longer than this, but knowing how TV arcs work, They only have so many episodes to wrap this up, and it’s gonna go through the steps of what he went through before !notKaiba killed him, and so we only got like...maybe a week, tops.

I look forward to seeing how long this Pharaoh actually sat on the throne, maybe there’s a huge time skip that happens where Pharaoh will magically be 52, but I am fully enjoying this ironic twist that the entire time our competent Pharaoh was actually a green dumbass. Yugioh sure does love that irony.

The only room with color, rejoice! Also the boys are all in town for this party/funeral, too!

!notKaiba is still a huge asshole, and yes, they gave him a terrible hat. I have seen forshadowing about this hat for so many seasons but a part of me just really hoped it would not happen. Alas, the hat is here, and it looks like ass to draw.

!notKaiba, the word of reason, is completely ignored.

Also !notPegasus is here.

So I stumbled on a viral tweet yesterday about an Egyptian guy called “Akhenaten” who was...probably the name they were going for, but I don’t know for sure. I grabbed the spelling of “Aknadin” from the closed captioning but Yugioh is referencing this guy, right? Like apparently he was a very disliked Pharaoh that tried to change their religion and after he died, his people removed a bunch of evidence this guy existed.

Also, a bunch of people online think he was an alien from outer space, which is how that viral tweet stumbled across my timeline. Now I don’t follow Egyptology or aliens online, but twitter has no rhyme or reason as to to how their algorithm works, and so I assume sent me that because I have too much Yugioh in my search history. Either way, he seems like good bait to make a Yugioh arc out of. If this arc goes to space, I will be pleased.

Also I’m guessing !NotPegasus is a freakin weirdo based on evidence (and also future Pegasus). That’s just my bet.

I later found out this is not !notShadi but is in fact !notOdion, and like....

....he has those abs all the time, right? Like in the present, under that cute purple turtleneck thingy, he’s just jacked?

Also the Ring is here:

Featuring who I believe is !notMarik wearing it. Which really leaves a lot to interpretation of how current Marik got so freakin effed in the bean from a very young age: he was not only under a lot of duress, he had the wrong millennium item the whole time. But clearly he craved one, so he stole someone else’s. A fun bit of worldbuilding, I think.

So, for reference:

-Seto Kaiba : Seto (easy to remember)

-Pegasus : Aknadin

-Ishizu : Isis

-Grandpa : Shimon

-Shadi : Shadu (also easy to remember)

-Odion: ???

-Marik: ??????? Yeah, I already forgot. My bad.

I went to do a cursory google search and only found links to wikis I’m not letting myself read because of spoilers. None had like...their actual name just right there in the title of the link. I could also just boot up hulu, but listen it’s been a long week so I’m gonna take a nap instead. I’m sure it won’t be important (it will).

Hell yeahhhhh it’s the second episode of this arc and we already got a Pharaoh cult! I do love how nearly every season of Yugioh has a cult in it.

Pharaoh has himself a secret cult made up of maybe the most unhinged people that have ever stepped foot onto this show (and Ishizu, who was never unhinged but deffo just likes to let things happen and watch it burn). At this point he can say “yo can you say my name real fast?” and then go straight home because wow. I think we figured out how this guy freaking died.

But that wouldn’t be an interesting arc, so we’ll get to the tail end of this episode in the next one.

https://steve0discusses.tumblr.com/tagged/yugioh/chrono

Have a good one and stay safe out there guys, it got pretty real out there.

#YGO #Yu-Gi-Oh #yugioh #episode recap #photo recap #S5 #Ep 29 #Yami Yugi #Yugi muto #EGYPT #seto kaiba #joey wheeler #tristan taylor #Grandpa muto #but like...past muto #Bakura #Ryou Bakura #Ishizu Ishtar #Odion Ishtar #Marik Ishtar #Akhenaten #or however you spell it #youknow lets just say every character in yugioh is in this episode

[tatooedlaura-blog]

Geometry of a Triangle

I found a few hours of quiet time and what better way to spend them than to revisit that beautiful thing called, “Triangle” ...

It’s a standalone and I’ll be tagging @today-in-fic ...

:)

&&&&&&&&&&

“Oh, brother.”

With that statement, she pushed herself off the bed rail and turned, click-heeling back into the hallway, running into a clump of boss and unwashed boys, “how is he?”

“He’s delusional.” Moving past them, she hit the down button on the elevator when she reached it, “he needs time, rest, and probably another CT scan, which I will schedule for him once I get downstairs.”

The four of them, following like obedient dogs, got on the elevator with her and just as the doors were closing, “damn it. I forgot my keys in there.” Recklessly flinging her arm in between twin metal deathtraps, then stepping out once they’d reopened, “why don’t you guys go and I’ll call you if anything changes?”

Not one to question her, ever, they said their goodbyes and disappeared. Once the elevator had definitely left the floor, she took a deep breath, wondering if collapse against the wall would be appropriate given the amount of stress still choking her system. Why was he always trying to kill her, inadvertently mind you, but still, every time he left his apartment, he put her in panic mode.

She really fucking hated panic mode.

Taking a minute to collect herself while staring out the window at absolutely no view at all, hospital expansion building blocking the view of what was probably a very pretty neighborhood.

Whatever.

She took her time going back to his room, companions not fluttering around her, peppering with questions, irritating her with endless regurgitation, explanation and exaltation of the exploits of her thankfully not drowned partner.

And Skinner just needed to go away in general; she’d kissed him in the elevator and now couldn’t look him in the eye  given mortal embarrassment.

She needed a vacation.

&&&&&&&&&

Finally, many deep breaths later, she was back at his door, numbered 342 in the grand scheme but from her last count, it was hospital room number 206, give or take; she also counted emergency room curtained off areas as rooms so her count might be a little skewed.

Walking back in without knocking, she thought maybe he’d be asleep and she could do her thing and go home to warm bed, fragrant bath, cup of hot chocolate, not necessarily in that order. He wasn’t asleep, however, instead looking up at her, tracking her as she carefully shut the door, turned, crossed her arms, “I was beginning to wonder if you’d be back.”

“I had to get rid of them before I could …” her voice cracked here, tears rushing to the surface, falling freely down her cheeks in under a second.

Mulder tried to get up but was forced back down by gravity and dizziness, so instead, he reached out his hand, “come here. I’m sorry. I hate seeing you cry.”

“If you wouldn’t do such stupid things, maybe I wouldn’t have to cry.” Swiping her face, the torrent already slowing to a trickle, she sniffed hard, “maybe you’re like a puppy. You need a good swat every now and then in order to learn not to put me through this crap.”

Beside his bed by now, he reached his hand out, hooking it in the pocket of her jacket, “I have never intentionally set out to make you cry. I swear.”

Growling at him, she dried her face one last time with her fingers, looking down at him, “did you really say earlier that you loved me? How many drugs are you on, if you don’t mind me asking?”

“You should know. You’re the doc, doc.”

Moving to see his chart again, she zoned in on the narcotics area, perusing then sifting through her memory, “looks like plenty. More than enough to say all kinds of incriminating things.”

Looking at her sheepishly, “did I really say ‘I love you’ though?”

And her heart jumped then sank, bobbed back to the surface and sank again, “you don’t remember?” He looked innocently guilty and she tilted her head at him, “I won’t hold it against you then.”

“Thanks.”

Moving back to his side, she pulled the chair over, slotting her feet in the undercarriage of the bed and settling back, head comfortable after a moment, Mulder’s fingers wiggling in her direction, his discreet invite to hold his hand while they fell asleep.

She both hated and loved their routines.

“I really am sorry I always make you cry.”

“I can’t imagine this life without you, Mulder, such as it is.” Thinking back to all the times she’d cried for him, both inside and out, “I have often wished that my stress levels weren’t congruent to the production of my tear ducts but they are and we have both learned to live with that.”

“I still hate that I make you cry.”

Squeezing his fingers, “go to sleep, Mulder. I’ll see you when you wake up.”

&&&&&&&&

Ten minutes later, she expected him to be deep in dreamland but looking in his direction once she realized she didn’t hear his whistle-snoring nose, she saw his eyes open, staring intently at her, studying form and function of his Scully, “why aren’t you asleep yet?”

“Trying to ignore my headache while I think about a few things.”

Dusk was dropping outside, their room growing dim and soft, her voice quiet across the vast region between them, “what kinds of things?”

“Nazis and Thor’s hammer and shiny red dresses.”

He must be wandering his delusions again and she figured, why not wade in with him, “were the Nazis wearing the red dresses?”

“No, thank God but you were.”

“I was wearing a shiny red dress? How did I look?”

“If I answer that question, you’ll hit me again.”

Maybe she shouldn’t play into his medication after all, “well, why don’t you go to sleep and dream about things and tomorrow, we will get another head scan.”

The side of his face ached from her 1939 clenched fist and deciding to go for broke, given he knew she’d chock up anything he said to drug-addled haze, “your hair was slicked back, pin-curled, perfect even as we ran up and down the halls, thwarting Nazis and trying to find a way to get me home.” Continuing when all she did was tilt her head, listening with both ear and he hoped, heart, “you saved the world in a knee-length dark red dress and heels and,” pinpoint focus on her darkening blue eyes, “you looked more beautiful than I’ve ever deserved to see you.”

Oh, she could so easily be dragged into his delirium … dream … reality …

This was headed to a bad place and she needed to stop the train before she got fully onboard, believing every last word falling from his lips, “I always thought I looked pretty good in my pajama pants and Yosemite Sam t-shirt.”

“That’s my t-shirt, by the way.”

Returning to lightness even as her heart pounded unexpectedly in her chest, “you say yours, I say mine. I keep it. We both win.”

“How do I win?”

Was she really going to say it?

“Because you get to see me in it.”

She said it.

“If I ever find that red dress, Scully, I’m buying it and you’re wearing it and we’re going out on the town to make sure everyone sees you in it. There’ll be so many guys falling at your feet, you won’t know what to do.”

“So, I’ll just stand there and let them swoon?”

“And then you’ll come home with me.”

She felt the blush blooming across her chest and crawling up her face, “you need to go to sleep, Mulder. As both your doctor and your …” she hesitated without understanding why, partner seeming cold, friend seeming inadequate, anything other distinction making her blush even more, “you need to get some sleep, Mulder and so do I.” Standing quickly, squeaking chair legs against tile, “I should probably go. I’ll pick up some clothes for you and bring them back tomorrow when they release you, okay?”

She still hadn’t let go of his hand.

Odd.

In fact, her fingers were firmly joined with his, zippered closed, thumb stroking thumb.

Very odd.

“Hey, Scully,” tugging her hand so she moved towards him, she leaned across the bar of the bed once again.

“Yes?”

“Be with me tonight. Spring me from this place and take me home and hover and feed me meds and check my stitches and just … be with me.”

Another ‘oh, brother’ should have risen up her throat, fallen to his ears but instead, she leaned in even more, “let me go find a doctor.”

&&&&&&&&&&&&

There was finagling and promising and coercion to the highest levels but in the end, she helped him off the elevator and down the hall to his apartment, setting him on the bed, taking in his weary eyes, his pale face, “you look terrible.”

Not able to argue such a valid point, “could you find me something to wear, please? I feel like I’m about to die or at the very least, begin having hallucinations of pink elephants playing poker in the corner.”

Not about to dispute the obvious, pink elephants fairly likely at this point in their day, “can you sit up for a second or do you want to lay down while I find things?”

Hands firmly gripping mattress edge, “I’ve got it. Just don’t leave.”

She’d return to that statement later on but for now, “I’ll be back.”

At the dresser, she pulled out stuff for both of them, missing the Yosemite Sam shirt but happy with her find of ‘Sit on it, Potsie’ black, frayed glory. Soon, she was back beside him, gently pulling his shirt over his head, wincing along with him when she passed the collar over his bruise-darkening eye. Pants weren’t too difficult, Scully holding his arm for balance while he dropped scrubs and pulled up ratty sweatpants, “remind me not to follow any ghosts ships in the near future.”

“No.”

He smiled as best he could but most of his energy and being was wrapped up in desperate need to lay down, go to sleep, rid his head of the terrible pounding that had wedged itself behind his eyes, “did you bring drugs home with you?”

“Several. What color do you want?”

“Rainbow me up, please? My head feels like it’s going to explode.”

Drugs swallowed, Scully changed – he would comment on her shirt at some point in the evening – and after tucking him in, she turned out the light but came back to his side, “I’m going to go sleep out on the couch, okay? Do you need anything?”

Even through pain and wavering reality, “be with me, remember? The couch is too far.” Indicating over his shoulder, eyes already closing for longer and longer intervals, “I have plenty of room behind me, softest mattress in the place, I promise.”

She could seriously just wait two minutes then go out to the couch, he’d never know but Scully being Scully, especially tonight, especially now, especially here, “okay but if you kick me in your sleep, I’m kicking back.”

Slurred, sleepy, “I’ll try not to kiss you in your sleep, promise.”

Nearly correcting him, she instead checked the front door locks one more time, then, incremental debate later, folded back the covers opposite him, sheets cool, pillow shockingly comfortable. She’ll admit it, she may have let out a slight, happy, back of the throat groan when her head sank down into it.

This pillow may have to go the way of Yosemite.

&&&&&&&&&&

Never expecting to fall asleep so quickly, she had no idea she had until she found herself blinking, eyes rolling and lids sticky. Concept of time had disappeared, clock telling her it was after 2 am but mind firmly believing she’d only been asleep for a few minutes. Wondering what had woken her, she turned to her other side, coming face to face with Mulder, still asleep but hand twitching, searching.

He must have touched her back while he moved and taking his wandering fingers, she was surprised when he bought them to his lips, kissing her knuckles, “I should have kissed you again after you hit me.”

Wondering if he was still dreaming, “Mulder?”

His eyes opened suddenly, wide awake like she’d never seen him, “You saved the world and I should have kissed you again.”

“You kissed me?”

Smiling, his eyes closed, drifting back to dreams, “and I want to do it again.”

Still back on the last statement, “you kissed me?” He answered with a deep sigh, sleep capturing the conversation in limbo and driving her forward, 2 am a thing of both beauty and shadow, she maneuvered to get her lips to his, a light brush, a tentative touch, a fleeting taste, “I love you, too, Mulder.”

#nazis and thors hammer and red dresses #even a triangle comes full circle in the end #msr #txf fanfic #x-files fanfic #MulderNScully #My writing

[ibelongtowrath]

Come Find Me - Mammon x Reader

reuploading cause of tags lol let’s hope they work this time, also sorry i forgot to put the “read more” oop

Tags/Warnings: angst, lots of angst & mild cursing Word Count: 3.9k Notes: I tried switching perspectives, which are indicated by the dashed lines. I hope it doesn't make it too confusing! I was listening to “Give You Up” by Asking Alexandria, like really listening to the lyrics when I was smacked in the face struck by inspiration for some angsty Mammon. So, as I do, I dreamed up a scenario. This took me so long to write, and holy crap. Hope you love it!

Lyrics taken from 'Give You Up' by Asking Alexandria. 

------------------------------------------------------------------------

11 months later.

“I wasted so much time on wasting time Made a million excuses, told myself I'm above it Now there's symphony where there used to be Nothing but silence, and I'm never gonna give you up”

Pulling open the closet door to find that one shirt you remember buying, but can’t for the life of you remember where it is, you wince. Clothes and shoes are strewn everywhere, organization severely neglected as of late. You hadn’t really been inspired to straighten out your mess, not since--

No. You shake your head, suppressing the memories. Not now, not for a long time...until it stops feeling like a hot knife is carving your heart in half whenever his name flashes across your mind.

Your eyes scan and assess the mess, landing on a black duffel bag shoved into the corner, emblazoned with an all-too-familiar gold badge. Your eyes close briefly, letting the familiar icy pain wash over you, as if you’ve been walking into the winter ocean until your entire body is submerged. You stare at the bag until your vision blurs, surprised to find yourself blinking away tears as you come back to reality.

You told yourself you wouldn’t leave the Devildom with any regrets, but you did.

“Okay. Well. We’re just going to deal with this now, and bury it,” you tell yourself, needing to hear yourself say it out loud as your own affirmation.

It was finally time to face the anguish head on, instead of compartmentalizing it, telling yourself you would process it eventually. Picking up the bag, you slowly back out of the closet, a torrent of emotions beginning to well up inside you, threatening to wreak havoc. You close your eyes. Breathe, Y/N, breathe. Step back, and lean against the wall, subdue the onslaught.

Tossing the bag onto your bed, you sit beside it, hand reaching slowly to grasp the zipper. Once undone, you reach inside and pull out your R.A.D uniform, skimming the small buttons embedded in the stitching. You smile softly as you remember Asmo pouting every time you complained about how ill-fitting it was. Your hand moves to the golden R.A.D. medallion, your fingers dancing over the hard, intricately grooved surface.

Folding the uniform and setting it aside, you reach into the bag once more, fingers brushing something hard and flat. Confused, you lift your hand, finding yourself grasping your D.D.D.. Your eyes study the yellow smart phone, remembering how he insisted...Fuck. The memories begin to crash into the forefront of your mind.

“Wait, Lucifer, ya gotta give her a yellow one! She’s gotta match with me! N-not that it’s all that important or anything...” Mammon blushed, looking down towards the floor.

“I-I just think...yellow’s a good color to have. That’s all. Symbolizes a lot ‘a different good things. Luck, lotsa Grimm...thank me later.”

You didn’t know it at the time, but that was the start of your undoing.

You came to the Devildom harboring resentment. Why the hell did you have to get uprooted from your life to serve someone else’s agenda? And not only that, but you had to live with seven fallen demon brothers, many of whom barely hesitated as they considered killing you. But...then there was Mammon.

It was always him, even when you refused to acknowledge it. The first demon you made a pact with. You slide your shirt down your arm, glancing at your now-bare shoulder, remembering the slight jolt of electricity as the sigil was emblazoned into your skin. You smile softly as you remember his persistent boasting, nearly on a daily basis:

“I’m Y/N’s first man! So get your paws off her!”

Mammon. Always so stand-offish about his feelings, but so were you. That resentment you bore dug deep into your core. Your heart was indifferent. You challenged Lucifer and the other demons without inhibition, consistently getting yourself nearly killed. You disobeyed the rules and expectations designated to you as one of the representatives of the human world. You did it all with no qualms about the potential consequences, even if it could have resulted in your death. You had given up. You didn’t give a fuck anymore, so bring it on.

They all gave a fuck about you, though, even if it was mostly because Lord Diavolo forbade the killing of the human students. But Mammon…

It was more than that for him. He grabbed your hand in the face of danger, thinking he could protect you. Despite his constant denial of how he felt for you, you could see it. Not only that, your feelings mirrored his; but you were so stubborn, you were headstrong. You were not going to let yourself fall, especially not for the Avatar of Greed. You had convinced yourself that he would be a selfish lover, always putting himself first. All he would do is take from you. After all, the demon was in love with his goddamn credit card.

You were so wrong.

Turning the phone over and over in your hands aimlessly, you remember it all. How easy it was for you to keep falling back into the darkness within you, the anger and resentment you bore deep in your heart. It was easy, it was familiar. Until...

------------------------------------------------------------------------

Mammon remembers that night. He’s replayed so many times in his head, there isn’t a single detail he can’t remember.

As usual, his brothers teased him relentlessly; this time, they had gone too far.

“Oh! Y/N, I dropped my fork by your foot, would you mind being a dear and grabbing it for me?” Asmo asked, innocently enough.

Mammon had looked up upon hearing your name. He watched as you bent down and struggled to pick up the dropped fork, too far away to grab from your seat. His gaze remained on you as you stood, bending behind you to pick it up; then, Asmo lifting his hand to give you a playful slap on the ass. Then back to you, your beautiful lips upturned in a playful, flirty smile as you laughed and handed Asmo the fork.

Mammon’s anger blazed, his vision tinged red. It was like a knee-jerk reaction, the movements required no thought. He stood from his chair, nearly kicking it in, half-eaten plate of food abandoned. Wordlessly, he took his leave, the torrent of emotions welled up inside threatening to erupt. He knew it wasn’t a good idea to react, that it was only going to add more fuel to the fire for their teasing.

But he didn’t care. They took it too far, touching his human like that. He had laid his claim for you thousands of times, spelled it out, and everyone knew. Yet, it didn’t stop them. Mammon was forever the brother ridiculed and mocked most, despite being the second-oldest; his brothers’ contempt for him was never-ending. The constant jeers and derision about himself and his sin, he had put up with for millennia; but their taunting and blatant disregard of his feelings for you?

He couldn’t stand it any longer.

Mammon was on autopilot, barely feeling the movements as he walked swiftly throughout the halls of the House of Lamentation. He doesn’t even recall if he took a single breath on his journey back to his bedroom. He gripped the doorknob of his room, knuckles turning white as he nearly ripped it out while turning it. He stepped inside, slamming the door with a residual bang!, so loud that surely even Lord Diavolo could hear it in his castle.

His feet moved him to his bed, where he sat on the edge, head in his hands. He clenched his jaw, hard, in an attempt to subdue the anger pulsing within him. It wasn’t only anger, however, that was welled up inside. There was humiliation, resentment, and feelings of hopelessness; all directed at himself. Mammon clenched harder, hands beginning to shake as the emotions swelled furiously.

No matter what he did, he felt like he failed. He felt an overwhelming desire to protect what was his, and he had even failed at that. Mammon isn’t sure how long he stayed that way, caught in the middle of the emotional thunderstorm, staring at his hands but not actually seeing.

In his trance, he barely heard the knock on his door; three light taps, then one loud one. Your signature knock. It didn’t even register in his mind. He wishes he looked up to see you when you walked across his room to his bed. He only noticed when you grabbed his arm, gently, in that way your touch always was. He lifted his head slowly, the feelings of hopelessness finally starting to ebb when his melancholy gaze met your serene one.

There you stood, in all your beautiful glory. Your hair hung in glossy rivulets down your back, a stray piece hanging in front of your face; Mammon wanted nothing more than to reach up and tuck it behind your ear. Your face, your beautiful face, wore an expression that simultaneously made his heart race and feel peaceful.

“Mammon.”

You spoke his name, and in those two syllables, and he knew. He knew your soul shined so brightly in the darkness of the Devildom. He knew you were the light to all of his darkness within.

He knew he was irrevocably in love with you.

Mammon felt your grip tighten on his arm, ever so slightly. He stood before you, realizing your close proximity, and immediately felt the heat rush to his cheeks, tinting them with a rosy blush.

“Y-yeah? What do ya want, Y/N?” he asked, looking off to the side. He reached his arm up, rubbing the back of his head. “Sheesh, you didn’t even tell me you were comin’. A little advanced notice would be nice, ya know.”

You didn’t even answer. Before he could react, you had pulled Mammon into a hug, your arms wrapped tightly around his waist.

“Wha-?!” Mammon yelped. “Just what do you think you’re doin’, human?!”

He recoiled at first, arms hanging down at his sides, unfamiliar with the feeling of such affection...such love. Rarely was he ever shown such things, especially from his brothers. He hesitantly reached his arms up, wrapping them around your body, the soft texture of your hair under his fingers.

He leaned his head down, his cheek resting on the top of your head while he stroked your hair.

And then, you said it. You spoke the words that made him come undone completely.

“I love you, Mammon.”

Mammon’s body stilled for a moment. It felt as though his heart had stopped completely. The words caught in his throat, unable to speak, fingers threaded into your hair. He felt you squeeze him harder, turning your head to look up at him. His eyes met yours.

You had come here to the Devildom, and at first, Mammon was indifferent. He would have gladly sold your possessions for some extra cash with no hesitation. He insulted you, he acted like an arrogant fool. You did risky things, you talked back. And yet, you somehow were able to make your way into his ice-cold, tsundere heart.

He sunk back down to the edge of the bed, pulling you towards him. You sat upon his lap, legs on either side of his waist. He wrapped his arms around you, pressing you flush to him, fingers splayed across your back. He pushed your hair to the side, burying his head into your neck, lips against your soft skin. All he wanted in that moment was to breathe you in. He swallowed, pressing a kiss into your neck, hoping, praying that you wouldn’t react negatively.

It’s hard to remember the exact sequence that followed. The only thing Mammon knows is your lips pressed against his in a deep kiss, causing his eyes to widen in surprise. He pulled away, grinning, then kissed you again, and again, and again, his hands roaming under your shirt, across your back.

“Shit, Y/N. I guess you have me feeling some type-a way, too,” he whispered, kissing and biting the delicate skin of your neck, an overwhelming desire to leave his mark on you.

It hadn’t gone any further that night, and Mammon had been okay with it. He had walked you back to your room, grabbing you and kissing you deeply before you went in. He was sure the grin hadn’t left his face the entire rest of the night.

It was essentially the way you and Mammon had spent your final weeks in the Devildom. Stolen kisses here and there. Grabbing your hand in the hallways of R.A.D., lacing his fingers through yours. Spending the entire night together, not sleeping, watching movies on his projector or him teaching you how to play poker. Buying you little gifts using Goldie, much to Lucifer’s chagrin. He wanted to give you all that he could, to provide for you.

He held you close whenever he got the opportunity, stroking your hair, ingraining every feeling of your touch into his memory so he would never forget. He knew he was running out of time to be yours, to give you all of him. Mammon had never been so happy.

Then, that fateful day arrived. The day you were going back to the human world.

Mammon could hardly look at you when the time came, too afraid his emotions would well to the surface and tip over. He finally lifted his gaze to yours, thousands of unspoken words etched into the space between you, visible only to you and he. You had never spoken of a plan for the future, too painful to think about. He regretted all the time wasted, kicking himself for not telling you his feelings sooner.

Maybe then, you wouldn’t have left at all.

Mammon didn’t embrace you before the ceremony to transport you back began, knowing that once he did, he would never be able to let you go. He watched the light flash, as bright as your beautiful soul, taking you away with it, leaving nothing in its wake. The pain of losing you was like a knife plunged deep into his heart, twisting back and forth.

And then, you were gone.

Gone.

------------------------------------------------------------------------

Gone.

And then, Mammon was gone.

“Mammon.”

You speak his name out loud, for the first time since you had arrived back. You still for a second, the unfamiliar syllables passing over your lips. You hope he’ll appear suddenly, as if summoned. But of course, he doesn’t.

And he never will, not again.

The tears fall freely now, a gut-wrenching sob wracking your body. The anguish crashes over you as all the emotions and pent-up grief finally break through the dam you had built deep inside. You fall to the side of your bed, gripping the D.D.D. tightly, knuckles turning white from the effort, as if the phone holds the power to bring Mammon back to you.

You’re unsure of how much time passes before the tears finally begin to subside, opening your eyes once more, adjusting to the sudden brightness; the feeling of it unwelcome, as you had learned to cherish the dark in the Devildom. The false sense of comforting dark you felt when you closed your eyes was erased each morning with the unrelenting rise of the sun.

You lift your hand, the yellow phone still gripped tightly within. And in a moment of hopefulness, or desperation (perhaps both), you press a button, gasping as the phone lights up. Though you shouldn’t be surprised; you remember Mammon telling you he put a spell on it so that it would hold a charge long after you took it off the charger, essentially always staying on.

So you could talk to him whenever you needed it.

Fingers moving faster than your brain can compute, you open your messages with Mammon, feeling the knife twist in your gut once more as you scroll through them. You shake your head furiously, willing yourself to stop, and focus. Your fingers dance across the digital keyboard as you compose a new message.

I love you, Mammon. Come find me.

Send. You hear the all-too-familiar whoosh sound of the message sending, watching it pop up onto the screen.You stare at the phone for God knows how long, willing a notification to sound off, unsure of why you’re feeling so hopeful.

The reply never comes.

------------------------------------------------------------------------

Mammon stares at his phone in disbelief. He reads the message, then stands, beginning to pace around the room. He has to be seeing things. He has to be. He’s convinced.

There is no way he just received a message from you, in the human world. Especially not one telling him that you love him and to come find you.

His fingers fly across the screen, furiously typing a reply to you, pressing send.

Error! Retry?

“What?!” Mammon exclaims, pressing “retry” over and over and over again.

Error! Retry?

Error! Retry?

Error! Retry?

“This piece ‘a junk!” he yells, furious. The feeling of anguish washes over him as he realizes you won’t get a reply from him, picturing you sad yet hopeful, staring at your screen. He finds himself leaving his room, legs moving automatically as they bring him to the large double doors of the last place he ever wants to be.

“Oi! Lucifer! Open up right now! It’s an emergency!” Mammon yells, pounding on the door.

Hearing an exasperated sigh on the other side of the doors, Mammon continues to pound relentlessly.

“Lucifer! Open up-” Mammon’s words are cut off as Lucifer opens the door, a pained expression on his face.

“How can I help you, Mammon?” Lucifer asks, oozing contempt.

Mammon storms past him into the office, beginning to open up drawers, sorting through files of papers.

“Lucifer! Where the heck’s Y/N’s info? I need it. Where is it?!”

“Mammon,” Lucifer replies cooly, “what is this all about?”

“It’s Y/N! She texted me! She texted me from the human world. Can ya believe it?! She told me to come find her. I have to go to her, Lucifer, I have to!”

“Mammon, calm down. Explain everything to me.”

Mammon shoves the phone in Lucifer’s face, panic etched into his voice as he recounts the story, impatience creeping in to his demeanor. He has to get to you, and he has to get to you now.

Lucifer nods, holding his gloved hand under his chin as he thinks aloud.

“Mammon, you will have to be patient. I will speak to Diavolo, and see if he will grant you permission to leave the Devildom for a few days. Unfortunately, we do not have an exact location for Y/N. I can only give you the general area of where she lives. You will have to hope that she has remained living there, or close to the area.”

“What?! What are ya tryin’ to say, that I won’t be able to find her?!” Mammon yells in disbelief. “Of course I’ll find her. She told me to! And I can’t wait, I gotta get to her now! I can’t text her back, can’t let her know I got it…”

“I know how important she is to you, Mammon,” Lucifer says, nodding his head.

“Like hell ya do! Have you ever loved anyone that much? Or anything?”

“Mammon. I will speak to Diavolo immediately, and he will set everything in motion. It is still likely you will have to wait until at least tomorrow morning.”

“Tomorrow morning…,” Mammon repeats, trailing off. “Y/N, I’m comin’ to ya. Just hang on one more day. Please, babe…”

------------------------------------------------------------------------

You find yourself at your favorite mall the next day, hardly remembering the drive there, as if you were on autopilot.

As you enter, you stand still for a moment, closing your eyes and inhaling briefly, taking in the sounds: the tinny music filtering through the speakers, other shoppers exclaiming to one another over a new collection in a store, somebody sipping their iced coffee noisily.

You had told Mammon about coming here quite often during those last few weeks. One night in particular, the two of you had lain on his bed, holding one another close, telling each other everything. You hadn’t cared if it was trivial, you wanted to know everything there was to know. Often, you had imagined coming with him here; holding hands, dragging him into all your favorite stores, trying on clothes.

Now, that will never happen.

You shake the negative thought from your mind, fighting as you feel the corners of your lips begin to tug downwards. Turning yourself to the right, you decide to head to your favorite bubble tea stand, smiling softly to yourself. Another memory you had shared with Mammon. Rounding the corner, a figure hunched over on the soft bench near the bubble tea stand stops you dead in your tracks.

Tousled white hair, orange-tinted lenses in his glasses. A brown leather jacket, striped with white across and at the collar, a fitted black t-shirt underneath.

No. No way. Your mind is playing tricks on you, Y/N, you think to yourself.

You walk hesitantly up to him, stopping a few feet away, watching as he notices your shoes, then moves his head up to meet your gaze, that adorable lopsided grin tugging at his lips as he stands.

“Knew I’d find ya here, Y/N. Lucifer didn’t believe me, that jerk,” he drawls.

“M-...Mammon?!” you exclaim, not caring who hears. You barely feel the movements as you throw yourself into his embrace. “H-how?!”

“Ya told me to come find ya. So I found ya.”

Gripping the collar of his jacket tightly, you lay your head on his chest, tears streaming furiously down your face. Mammon lifts your head, cupping your cheeks, wiping your tears away with his thumbs.

“Hey, hey. No tears ruinin’ that pretty face. Unless they’re happy tears. In which case, cry away, I guess. But your makeups’ runnin’ down your face,” Mammon tells you, and you grin through them.

“How did you know to find me here?” you ask him as you pull away, brushing more tears away as you swallow.

“I remembered you tellin’ me about it. How you liked to come here when you weren’t feelin’ all that great,” he answers, draping an arm over your shoulder. “I tried to answer ya back, but my stupid D.D.D. wouldn’t let me. I thought ya might be sad, so I figured I’d try ya here.”

You laugh, grin growing wider.

“I love you, Mammon.”

He pulls you into another tight embrace, pressing you flush to him, lips crashing against yours in a deep kiss. You close your eyes, savoring every second of it before pulling away, eyes wide. You laugh once more as he pulls you close to him again, gasping a bit in surprise as his tongue darts out to dance with yours.

“Mammon, we’re in public!” you hiss, though you’re smiling against his lips.

“Don’t care,” Mammon retorts, kissing you again. “I have ya here with me now. And I ain’t ever gonna give you up. Never again.”

“In my darkest of days I've got a light now to show me the way It's like I've found my place And the world doesn't feel the same”

#obey me mammon #mammon obey me #obey me #obey me fanfiction #obey me! mammon #obey me fanfic #obey me fandom #mammon avatar of greed #obey me swd #swd obey me #mammon #mammon swd #swd mammon

[justanother-unluckysoul]

Working My Way Back To You 6/10

Killian gets captured. When Emma finally rescues him, he’s traumatized and nearly broken from the torture he endured. Angst and h/c galore as Emma helps him through it.

I tried to go easy on the whumpy side of it since it’s supposed to be for Comfortember, but it’s me so I probably failed lol

Merry Christmas to my lovely readers! Hope you all are having a lovely time. Here’s a bit of fluff before we get back into the heavier angst. For the prompt “baking.”

Unbetad as always so mistakes are all mine.

Tagging @cocohook38 as requested :)

Read this chapter on AO3

Working My Way Back To You

Baking

Killian’s certain he’s never going to get over the marvel that is hot running water. Showers continue to be one of his favourite things about this realm – that and toilets. Basic hygiene had never been so easy. In fact, everything is easy. He can flip a switch and flood the room with light far more powerful than any lantern. He can turn a knob and the metal plates on the counter heat up without a fire. Never mind such amazing things like washing machines or heaters or even cars. And this thing called a mixer, which whisks ingredients together at the flick of a switch. Henry is grinning at him as he demonstrates this, and Killian tries to wipe the expression of astonishment off his own face.

“Pretty cool, huh?” Henry says, “Much faster than doing it by hand. Otherwise we’d never get this done before mom gets home.”

It had been Henry’s idea to bake these biscuits today, on Christmas Eve, while Emma was out dealing with some “grinches” who were apparently trying to ruin Christmas. Killian didn’t know what that meant, but Emma had given him a quick kiss and promised she would be back soon, and he’d decided he’d question her meaning later. He’s honestly quite relieved that she feels he’s finally recovered enough not to need her constant supervision. His stitches were removed earlier in the week, and he’s reluctantly been to see Archie after further insistence from Emma. Though Killian wasn’t comfortable sharing much of his trauma with the cricket, and even less of his feelings about it, Archie had treated him with nothing but kindness and understanding, which Killian supposed shouldn’t have surprised him, but it had. And Killian’s beginning to feel a little better, both physically and mentally. Some things are still problematic without the use of his still-splinted fingers, but Killian is nothing if not adaptable, and he’s discovered there are a lot of tasks that can actually be managed, albeit awkwardly, with just his hook and his thumb. So here they were, Henry’s enthusiasm for his self-appointed task having quickly garnered Killian’s interest, leading to this moment, which is Henry explaining no we have to do it like this with flour smudged across his cheek and Killian giving him a raised eyebrow as he challenged does it really need that much sugar? He’s starting to get the feeling that for all Henry’s knowledge on these modern kitchen tools, the lad may not have actually made this particular cuisine before.

“Yes,” Henry says firmly, a tone that leaves no room for further questioning.

Killian lets it go. Emma does like sweet foods, and since Killian hasn’t ever made snickerdoodles before, he thinks he probably should allow Henry to take the lead on this; however much it pains him to watch Henry pour that much sugar into the bowl. But he can’t resist making one last comment-

“Are you sure you’re not just making this up as you go, lad? Because ‘snickerdoodles’ doesn’t sound like a real food.”

“I’m not making it up,” Henry insists, “I’ve helped mom make them before.”

“Then where’s the recipe?”

“I read it on wickapeedia.”

And Killian’s lost again. He hasn’t a clue what a wickapeedia is.

“On what?”

“Oh, sorry. It’s a website. It has information on everything. Like, an encyclopedia, but on the internet.”

“Do you always get your recipes from this wicka… whatever?”

“Of course not.” Henry looks affronted before turning his attention back to their task. “Now, crack two eggs into this bowl. I’ll get the salt.”

Killian takes two steps away to grab the required eggs before he remembers, and he grimaces at the realization, shame washing over him.

“Henry, I… I can’t…”

“What?”

It takes Henry a moment, the room falling into silence – well, not quiet silence because there’s still the ever-present festive music playing somewhat discordant strains in the background, because Henry insisted on it. It’s a long, agonizing moment of scrutiny and Killian’s explanation dies on his tongue, an intense discomfort creeping up his spine. He can’t bring himself to put to words how useless he is.

“Oh, crap,” Henry says intensely, finally, wide eyed, “I’m so sorry, Killian, I forgot. Uh, you…” he casts his gaze frantically around the kitchen for something Killian can do with only a thumb and a hook, and apparently comes up with nothing.

Killian looks away, swallowing hard. He had thought himself crippled all those years ago when the Crocodile took his hand, and all the painful days following it as he struggled to learn how to function as less than whole, his body and soul wrecked in an instant by Rumpelstiltskin’s callous actions. He’d thought at the time that was the worst fate that could have been laid on him. But now he doesn’t even have the use of his right hand and he’s the most useless he’s ever been. Killian is struck with a desperate need to get away. Perhaps he will find some calm on the Jolly Roger. He glances out the window. There is a bank of clouds gathering in the distance, but the sun is still shining brightly.

“Never mind, lad, I can-”

“No, wait, you’re in charge of the mixer. Here, let me just-”

Killian watches rather dejectedly as Henry places the necessary ingredients in the bowl and sets it in place to be mixed, leaving Killian with the meagre job of pressing the button. While he appreciates Henry’s attempt to include him, it hasn’t done anything to alleviate his feel of inadequacy. Damn the men who did this to him, to the deepest depths of the Underworld. Simply leaving them locked in a brig seems an insufficient penalty for what they’ve done, and Killian muses on better ways to punish them while he watches the mixer whisking the ingredients together. He gets some satisfaction out of his rather grisly fantasies. But he knows they’ll remain only fantasies. As badly as he desires to hurt his torturers like they hurt him, he’s better than that now, and he forces his thoughts away from it.

Once the “snickerdoodles” are in the oven, Killian settles onto the couch. There’s not much he can do around the house yet, not until his splints are removed, so he distracts himself by playing a game of chess with Henry. It feels good, getting him out of his own head again. He slips easily into verbal sparring, and he’s taught Henry well because the lad is almost able to match Killian’s quick wit during their banter – but he still can’t quite match Killian’s ability to win at chess. He’s just about to trap Henry into a checkmate when-

“What the hell is that?” Killian will never admit how high his voice went in his fright, as the house is suddenly filled with a deafening screaming sound.

Henry bolts to his feet and bumps the chess board roughly in his haste, sending pieces flying.

“The snickerdoodles!” he shouts over the noise.

Killian’s fairly sure it’s not the snickerdoodles. He can’t be certain, of course, but creating baked goods that scream seems a bit odd, even for this realm. But smoke is billowing out of the kitchen. Killian doesn’t know how neither of them noticed until now; apparently, they’d been too immersed in their chess match. Henry’s frantically trying to rescue the biscuits, or something, and Killian’s at a loss for what he should be doing. Perhaps they should abandon the house. Perhaps he should call Emma.

“Open some windows! We have to clear this smoke!” Henry shouts, and he’s coughing now, and Killian continues to stand by helplessly because he can’t even unlatch a bloody window.

“Henry, I-”

“Damn it,” says Henry, and then a quick “Sorry!” for his language before he scampers around opening the windows himself.

If she were here, Emma would have pulled him up on it. Killian thinks they have more pressing concerns at this point. It seems the snickerdoodles are beyond saving.

“How do we turn this bloody thing off?” Killian asks.

“There should be a button on it. Or something.” Henry looks frazzled, flapping his hands about as if he can shoo the smoke out the window faster by doing so.

Killian looks up at the offending object, a white disc fastened to the ceiling, and his mind finally settles into a strategy.

“Henry, use a dishtowel to move the smoke,” he instructs.

He uses his hook to drag a kitchen chair into place under the still-shrieking disc, giving him the height he needs to… He can’t see the button Henry mentioned and the close proximity to the horrid noise is making his head feel like it’ll burst. Ah, well, time for a new plan then. He jams his hook into the side of the disc, close to the ceiling, and yanks hard downwards. The disc comes loose with a cracking sound as something gives way, and the screaming cuts off immediately. The broken disc clatters to the floor, just as the front door bursts open.

“Henry! Killian!” shouts a remarkably familiar voice, and Killian instantly regrets his hasty plan-making.

“Mom,” Henry splutters, “Uh, we were… Um, just… Oops?”

Killian quickly clambers off the chair. The smoke has abated somewhat, thanks to Henry’s waving of the dishtowel. Emma’s eyes are wide, her breaths a little quick, her phone in her hand like she was about to make a call. She looks frightened.

“Apologies, love. It seems the snickerdoodles required a little more attention than we gave them,” Killian says lightly, hoping to put her at ease.

“I saw all the smoke and I thought…” she laughs shakily, clearly struggling to pull herself together.

“We’re fine, mom, really. It got a little smoky, but it was nothing we couldn’t handle.”

Henry gives her a reassuring smile. Thankfully, seeing them unharmed seems to be enough to calm her, because she doesn’t even complain about the acrid smell of burned biscuits still pervading the kitchen. She shoves her phone back into her pocket and pulls them both in for a hug instead.

“Killian, you destroyed the smoke alarm,” she says with a shaky laugh when they break apart.

Killian looks at the item in question.

“We were certainly alarmed enough about all this, without its infernal screaming,” he says wryly, “But I admit, I may have a been… a little hasty with my method. Henry told me there was a button that would silence it?”

“Yeah. It’s right there.” She points out the button on the disc, easily noticeable now that Killian’s not being deafened by it. “But it’s okay. We can replace it.”

Once the blackened snickerdoodles are sufficiently cooled, Henry takes them out to the trash, and Killian pulls Emma into another embrace.

“I am truly sorry for scaring you, love,” he says softly, “Henry wanted to give you a surprise gift, and he said you would enjoy these biscuits. We were playing chess while we waited for them to cook, and time got away from us. But there was no fire. We were actually quite safe, despite how it must have appeared.”

“It’s okay, really. I overreacted.” Emma sighs heavily, her fingers curling gently around the back of Killian’s neck, content just to be held for a moment. “Ugh. I do love it, but all this Christmas stuff is so stressful.”

Killian coaxes her chin up with his thumb so he can kiss her, just briefly, because Henry will be back shortly and will undoubtedly make some comment about how gross they are if he catches them in such a position.

“I’m sorry I’ve added to that stress,” he says remorsefully, still so close, his mouth reluctant to let go of hers.

“It’s fine, Killian. Hey, did I ever tell you about that time…”

Emma launches into a colourful tale of a past Christmas endeavour, and of mistakes far greater than the snickerdoodle incident, and when Henry returns, he too shares some hilarious anecdotes. And they end up laughing until Killian’s sides hurt and Emma is wiping tears from her eyes, and Henry has collapsed on the floor in a fit of giggles. Killian wishes he could just stay in this moment and this feeling of pure joy for the rest of his life.

After dinner, all three of them settle onto the couch, basking in the warmth of the fire and the twinkling of the lights on the tree in the corner of the room. Emma’s chosen a movie for them to watch, one that is apparently a “Christmas classic.” Killian hasn’t seen it before, but he doesn’t find it very captivating, though he doesn’t let Emma or Henry know that. He is extremely appreciative that they are including him in their holiday traditions, though he doesn’t quite understand this whole Christmas thing. It seems rather like a bunch of disjointed stories all strung together, and Killian still doesn’t get the connection between the birth of a god and an overweight man climbing down a chimney to deliver gifts. But no matter. He’s all warm and cosy, and he feels completely safe – a feeling that has been all too rare recently. And he wonders how he got so lucky to find such a family. His family. By all the gods, he’s a lucky man. Despite everything he is, everything he’s done, they love him. And come tomorrow, Snow and David will visit with their child, eager to celebrate Christmas with them. The thought makes Killian feel both elated and terrified, because they want to spend time with him and Emma and Henry and he’s so fortunate to have people like that, but they probably both know how broken he is and he won’t be able to stand their looks of pity.

When they wake to Henry knocking on their bedroom door loudly and gleefully shouting that it’s a white Christmas, it’s barely daylight.

“We’ll be out in a minute,” Emma calls out, her voice a bit hoarse from sleep.

“Okay!” and they hear him rushing down the stairs.

Outside, there’s the strange sort of quiet that heralds the falling snow, and Emma only burrows deeper into the soft blankets surrounding them, clearly having no desire to leave the cosy warmth of their bed. Killian props himself up on his elbow, a small smile curving his lips as he looks at her.

“Merry Christmas,” she whispers, sleepy, and utterly gorgeous.

He really wants to kiss her right on the mouth, but he knows from past experiences that it’ll make her pull away from him, because ‘morning breath’ and all that. So Killian kisses her cheek instead, soft and gentle, and a calm warmth settles in his chest. His heart has never felt so full.

“Merry Christmas, Emma.”

#comfortember 2020 #cs ff #cs fluff #cs christmas #killian whump #(but there's no actual whump in this chapter) #angst #captain swan #captain cobra swan #killian jones #emma swan #henry mills #my fanfics

[diyunho]

The Joker x Reader - “Ghost Driver” Part 2

When The Joker says you’re his, it means you’re essential to him because he needs your services for his own gain; it literally has zero affectionate connotations. Turbo is The King’s Ghost Driver and although she’s a legend, her life is far from perfect.

Part 1

Four Days Afterwards, 7:47pm

“Good evening, madam. I am tonight’s entertainment,” Frost blurs out as soon as you open the door and instantly regrets his pun. “Sorry, that was stupid to say,” he apologizes.

The reason why you look puzzled is not his joke, but another motive: you never saw Jonny wearing anything else besides a suit or military gear; the fact that he’s standing in front of you wearing a pair of shorts and a t-shirt is quite intriguing.

“Hi,” you move aside so he can come in.

“Did I wake you up?”

“I fell asleep watching a movie,” Y/N smiles at his comfortable attire. “No big deal. Did Mister Joker send you?” the subtle question indicates you want to find out the reason for his visit.

“No... I was just thinking… maybe we could… and it’s entirely up to you, no pressure… maybe you would want to go and watch the fireworks with me. I have food and sleeping bags, plus an ice chest with drinks in my truck.”

You seem confused.

“Mmmm, you know what? Forget about it. That was completely idiotic to suggest,” Frost realizes that asking a freshly divorced woman to get out of the house after she was kidnapped and starved into her ex’s basement only four days ago it’s not the most brilliant idea he ever had.

“You had me at food and fireworks,” you wink at his insecurity. “The drinks sealed the deal. I’m confused on one detail: do I have to change or can I come in my PJ’s?”

“PJ’s are perfect.”

“Awesome!” you grab the keys from the coffee table. “Where exactly are we heading?”

“Fire Creek Hill, it’s one of the best spots to enjoy the view,” Jonny replies.

“Isn’t that closed to the general public?” Y/N inquires and his logic makes you laugh while exchanging your socks for flip-flops.

“I doubt we’re considered the general public. I had to pull some strings though,” he admits, overjoyed you actually agreed to accompany him.

Not that he shows it in any other way besides the invitation he barely mustered the courage to extend towards The Joker’s Ghost Driver.

*************

9:03pm  

“Oh, it’s starting!” you excitedly nibble on your Alfredo pasta.

The first fireworks bloom in the distance and Frost opens the cooler, pointing out the goodies he salvaged from the liquor store.

“Pick your poison: we have a bottle of premixed margarita, wine, whiskey, tequila and…,” he fumbles around,”…try to contain yourself: water!”

“You definitely bought some of my favorites , including the food. How did you guess?” the bubbly Y/N smiles.

“I pay attention,” Jonny mentions. “So what’s gonna be?”

“Margarita please,” you hold the plastic cup and can’t help snickering as he pours the liquid.

“What?” he suspiciously bites on his cheek.

“Nothing really… I was imagining you without the beard,” you decide not to keep it a secret.

“Damn!” Frost snorts. “I had it for years; didn’t consider shaving because our employer would freak out. Stop giggling, it’s not funny! He totally would!” Jonny elbows you.

“I bet you have a baby face underneath all that facial hair; if you shave I can promise a new nickname will arise: Baby- Face Frost.”

“Shut up!” he chuckles at your quirky proposal. “Yet I can’t deny it has a certain ring to it.”

“See what I mean? It might work!... Oh my God, that’s a huge one!” you gasp, distracted by the sparkling night sky. “What are they celebrating? 150 years since this piece of crap town was founded?”

“Apparently,” Jonny sighs and watches Y/N bundle up in the sleeping bag.

“Thank you for the feast,” your tone changes to a serious one. “I didn’t have this much fun in the back of a truck in a long time. Go ahead, laugh!” you pout at his reaction. “I’m aware how it sounds like; I didn’t mean it that way!!!”

“Still funny as hell!” Jonny is getting a kick out of the conversation.

“Psst! Hey, Casanova!” The Joker’s mop of green hair pop up from behind the car’s high railing.

“Mister Joker!” you get startled by his unexpected presence.

“Boss, what are you doing here?” Frost utters in disbelief.

“Why aren’t you answering your phone, huh?” J ignores his henchman’s inquiry.

“It’s in the glove compartment, sir. I’m enjoying the…”

“Pardon me for interrupting your date,” The King of Gotham huffs.

“We’re not on a date,” the attempted explanation gets cut short.

“Sell it to whoever wants to buy it,” The Joker growls at Jonny’s words. “I had to follow the signal from your cell and trace your location; what a marvelous bonus to find my Turbo also!”

The eerie grin makes you finally speak up:

“Do you need help with anything Mister J?”

“Do I?” he plays dumb. “Probably.”

Why does he have to ruin the night? Frost reflects, annoyed.

Nobody knows, but if he could spend ages in your company, he believes it would be an eternity well spent.

And The Joker had to ruin it.

Goddammit!

“Can you patch me up?” J takes of his jacket, revealing a blood stained shirt.

“What happened?” you and Jonny jump off the vehicle.

“I got myself in a little bit of a situation,” he grumbles. “It’s a clean wound; the bullet came out on the other side.”

“We should take you to the doctor, boos; you need stitches!”

“Thanks for your concern, Doctor Frost,” The Joker sassily remarks. “I’ll go in the morning.  I have more important matters to take care of tonight.”

You peel off his garment and assess the damage; he can’t hold it in:

“I bet you wanted to do this after I texted you my nudes, huh?”

You have to admit he caught you by surprise with his statement and the best solution in this situation is to cooperate:

“Been dreaming about it quite often.”

“Ha! I knew it!” The Clown cracks up. “Were you dreaming about it during your date?” he teases more.

“We’re not on a date,” you frown at the blood gushing from his wound.

“Interesting,” J expands on the subject. “At least you two have one thing in common: you’re both delusional.”

Frost rolls his eyes without J noticing and you signal him:

“Can I please get the whiskey? I need to disinfect this.”

“You have whiskey on your date?! Excuse me, non-date,” his majesty’s obnoxious temper emerges again.

You don’t engage for the moment, just open the bottle that Jonny gave you and splash a generous amount on the laceration.

“Jesus Christ!!!” The King shouts. “Be gentle woman, I’m fragile!!!”

“Sorry Mister J,” you mutter and Frost is certainly approving your tiny revenge scheme. “Can you please turn on the lights on your car? It’s getting dark and I can’t see what I’m doing,” you address The Joker’s sidekick. “Do you have a first aid kit in your vehicle Mister J?” you gesture towards his SUV parked a few feet away.

“I should,” a demented smirk flourished on his lips. “In the trunk!”

“Take a seat in the grass Mister J; I’ll go get it,” you urge the patient.

“Boss, are you sure you don’t want me to take you to the doctor?” Frost offers and instead of obliging your request, J pursues your steps because he doesn’t want to miss Turbo’s reaction.

“It’s fine, I’ll survive until morning time.”

You lift the trunk and gasp, stunned: your stellar ex-husband is tied up in there, duct tape over his mouth, clearly enjoying the repercussions of a confrontation due to bruises you can discern at a first glance.

“Oops, forgot about him,” The Clown yawns, bored.

Adam starts wiggling and mumbling whilst you can’t react.

“The fucker shot me!” your employer hisses. “Had the nerve to try killing me when he’s the one sleeping with MY girlfriend!”

“What’s the plan, sir?” Jonny intervenes, worried at your stunned attitude.

“The plan is simple: since Y/N is intimately acquainted with our guest, I’m willing to work out a deal. I don’t wanna to be accused of not listening to my associates.”

Adam keeps struggling and you finally reach and remove the duct tape.

“Honey, honey please!” he immediately rambles on, panicked. “You know I was joking about your weight, right? You don’t have to lose a few pounds! I admit locking you up in the basement was a huge mistake, ok? OK…? I’m sorry! I swear I’ll never cheat on you in the future. We can work things out, can’t we?” a glimmer of hope alleviates the somber perspective of his imminent demise once you begin searching his pockets.

He has the false impression you’ll untie him when in the matter of fact you are hunting down for his house keys so you can reclaim all the items you bribed him with when he signed the divorce papers.

Bingo! Treasure attained.

“So do you know him or not?” The Joker taps his fingers on the cold metal of his gun.

You take a deep breath, place the duct tape on Adam’s lips and sneer:

“I never saw this asshole in my life!”

“The lady has spoken!” J slams the trunk, unnerved. “Frost, you can go home; Y/N will take me to the warehouse on 8th street: she can borrow a car from there and split. I’ll send someone in the morning to bring it back.”

“Boss, we can leave your SUV here and I can drive you both…”

“DID I STUTTER?” The Clown growls, unhappy with Jonny’s shenanigans.

“No sir.”

“Mister J,” you distract his menacing temper. “Do you want me to bandage your injury now?”

“Nah, you can do it at the warehouse.”

More fireworks illuminate the skies and none in the small group is watching them anymore: the show is over for everyone involved.

You wave at Frost and hop in The Joker’s car as he positions himself in the passenger’s seat; you can tell something is off, besides the obvious of course.

If you’d have to speculate, you would say that his behavior is of a man who wasn’t hurt just physically, but on a different level he doesn’t understand yet: J went after your ex-husband alone when he doesn’t take unnecessary risks; enough proof to indicate he loved Ella and sought revenge for her betrayal without any of his team’s help.

You wonder what he did to the woman: did he kill her? Or worse?... You won’t dig to find out regardless.

The truth is you are The Joker’s Turbo and the statement works in reverse too: he is your Joker who undeniably needs cheering.

And you always deliver. That’s why you’re his.

That’s why you appreciate he made an effort to compromise on Adam’s predicament even if he didn’t mean it.

You steadily drive on the trail until you arrive to the main road, then suddenly accelerate with a specific purpose in mind. You take a sharp turn on Morrison Avenue, already at 100 miles per hour.

“What are you doing?” J bitterly enunciates.

“Why am I your Ghost Driver Mister Joker?” you reply with a question.

“Nobody can catch up with you.”

“Yup, the car to catch up with me hasn’t been assembled. Here they are, Gotham’s finest!” Y/N boasts at the lights glistening behind. “They always have a nightly patrol on Morrison Avenue ready to catch law un-abiding citizens,” you exclaim and J’s smirk widens at your proposition. “What do you say we make them work for their donuts, hm?”

“That’s my girl!” The King gives his blessing while Turbo speeds up the street in a frenzy.

************

11:58 pm

You barely returned to you apartment after the random factors which cut your rendezvous short when the cell chimes: a message from Frost.

“Did you make it home safe?”

“Yes,” you text.

“I’ve been busy. Wait, I’ll send you a picture.”

Downloading picture…

“Holy… shit!!!!!” you yell at your phone because the image depicts a portrait of a freshly shaved Jonny Frost.

“Do you like it?” the sentence appears on the screen concomitant with a knock at the main entrance.

“Who is it?” you drag your feet on the carpet.

“Me.”

As soon as you are standing in front of him, Frost hides his nervousness the best way he can; and he’s not a nervous individual per se.

“I thought you might want to take a closer look…,” he enters the hallway and you slowly lock the door behind him.

You don’t say anything, just touch his face and he pecks your wrist, confessing a secret he kept bottled up for years:

“Do you know I’ve been in love with you from the first second I saw you?”

Y/N doesn’t have to calculate in order to whisper:

“That’s a long time.”

“What’s the verdict?...“ Jonny insists. “You approve the change?”

“Yes,” you kiss him and he holds you tighter, thinking that if he could spend ages in your arms, it would be an eternity well spent.

 Also read: MASTERLIST

You can also follow me on Wattpad and Ao3 under the same blog name: DiYunho.

#the joker fanfiction #the joker x reader #the joker imagine #the joker suicide squad #the joker jared leto #jokerleto #joker imagines #joker fanfiction #Jonny Frost #joker suicide squad #mister joker #Mistah J #mister j #dc #dcu

[quickspinner]

Killer Combo - Ch 4 Finding the Groove

Chapter 1 | Chapter 2 | Chapter 3 | Chapter 4 | Chapter 5 | Chapter 6 | Chapter 7 | Chapter 8 Epilogue | Bonus Tidbits | ART inspired by this story! | AO3 | Fiction Master Post

Marinette felt awkward, walking up the steps of the gangway connecting the péniche to the bank. Luka was nowhere in sight, and she stood in the middle of the narrow ramp, a hand on each rail and her index finger tapping lightly. She was already a little rattled from anxiety over the project she’d been working on at home, from arguing with herself over whether it was weird or too much, and now coming here and not knowing what to do was getting to her a little bit. Luka hadn’t given her any instructions except the location of the boat, and it wasn’t as if she could just ring the doorbell, so…

“Are you going to stand there all day, lass?” a booming, accented, female voice demanded, and Marinette jumped, looking around frantically for a moment before spotting the woman standing on the cluttered deck, two fists on her hips and her feet firmly planted. Imposing as her figure was, the expression on her face was friendly amusement and, like Luka, she had gentle eyes behind her round glasses. 

“Oh, I—I wasn’t sure how to—I mean, I’m here to see Luka? I guess I thought, uh…” Marinette’s shoulders hunched slightly, her eyes taking in the flowered headband and thick chunky jewelry and the amp cord necklace. 

“Ah, yes, he mentioned he had company coming over today. So you’re the lass from the tournament, eh? I’m Luka’s mother and the captain of this little floating paradise. Name’s Anarka, or Captain Anarka if you can’t stomach anything else. Don’t call me Madam and we’ll get along fine.”

“O-okay, M—uh, Captain,” Marinette said quickly.  

The grey-haired woman smiled, her eyes crinkling at the edges, and jerked her head. “Well come aboard, lass. Luka’s playing on the upper deck, I’m sure he lost track of time or he’d have been down here to meet you. Those stairs, right there. Watch your step; clutter’s a way of life around here.” Anarka pointed, and Marinette came carefully onto the boat, picking her way across the deck towards the stairs. 

Anarka made no move to follow her, so Marinette just went on up the stairs, hoping Luka would be easy to find. She didn’t even register the music playing until she got to the top of the stairs, though it was probably audible from the bank even; she’d just had other things on her mind.

At least Luka was easy to find sitting half-reclined in a deck chair, one boot planted on a crate and an electric guitar in his lap, a pair of electric blue mirrored sunglasses hiding his eyes and flashing in the bright sun as he bobbed his head in time to the music coming from both his amp beside him and the stereo speakers behind him. The track playing was the album cut, but Luka was playing over it, his guitar blending in beautifully with the existing instrumentation and giving it a bit more edge and a more complex sound. It sounded really cool, actually. Nino would love it, Marinette thought absently.

Then Luka opened his mouth and that smooth voice that had always been so soft and gentle rang out strong and clear as he sang along with the track, body swaying to the music, hands still moving over the guitar. “They tell me think with my head, not that thing in my chest, they got their hands at my neck this time. But you’re the one that I want, if that’s really so wrong, then you don’t know what that feeling is like.” 

She thought his eyes must have been closed behind his sunglasses because he didn’t react to her at all until she called his name.

“Oh, hey,” he said, pulling off his shades to blink at her. “Crap, sorry, I—” He pulled his phone out of his pocket and checked the time, and then grinned sheepishly at her. “I guess I lost track of time.”

“It’s okay,” Marinette smiled. “It sounded good.”

Luka’s face lit up. “Yeah, you liked it?”

“Yeah,” she nodded, tucking a strand of hair back. “You’re really good.” 

“Thanks,” he grinned, putting both feet on the deck and straightening up. “Hang on, we’re all set up, just let me turn this off and we can get started. I was just killing time, but I didn’t realize how much I guess. I get into the zone and—” He gestured vaguely. “Well. You probably know how it is.”  

“I do,” Marinette smiled. “I’m not in a hurry.” Marinette watched as he turned off the sound system and put his guitar back in the case with practiced care. “I made sure I had the whole afternoon free. How long have you been playing? Guitar, I mean, not UMS.”

“Practically all my life,” he told her as he zipped up the case. “Learned from my mom, she was a rock guitarist back in the day. I was just messing around, though. If I really wanted to practice I’d go down on the stage and hook up the big amp.” 

Marinette’s eyebrows raised. “You have an entire stage whenever you just feel like practicing?”

Luka shrugged and gave her that roguish grin and wink that made her knees weak. “Welcome to the Liberty. Everything we do here is dramatic and over the top.”

“That...doesn’t sound like you at all, actually,” Marinette giggled.  

Luka chuckled. “Well, you don’t actually know me all that well. You’ve never seen me perform. Or get angry.”

Marinette smirked. “I wouldn’t like you when you’re angry?” 

Luka’s laugh rang out, and here in his home, in the open air, it was loud and unrestrained, and Marinette had to smile. “You’re funny,” he said, shaking his head as he straightened up and motioned for her to follow him. “Come on, I love the sun myself but I figured you might not want to fry out here so I set us up in the shade where the glare isn’t so bad.” 

Marinette followed him around the wheelhouse to an area shaded with a tarp, with two deck chairs in front of a TV strapped to a crate with bungee cords. The crate itself was similarly strapped to the rail. “Sorry it’s not exactly a high tech setup,” he said, picking up a pair of controllers out of the chair and handing one to her. 

“I like it, actually,” Marinette replied, taking the controller and sitting down in one of the chairs. “It’s comfortable.” 

“Way better than those damn pods,” Luka agreed with a grin. “You’d think they could at least put a chair in the stupid things. I hate playing standing up.” 

Marinette giggled as he turned on the TV and started up the game. A piece of paper taped to the side of the TV fluttered in the breeze and she leaned to the side. “What’s that?”

“Oh, I forgot that was there,” Luka said, reaching around to pull off the paper. “I guess you could call it my goal poster. Not as fancy or as detailed as yours, but…” He shook his head slightly, handing her an ad from a music store with a picture of an electric guitar. “That’s my dream girl.” 

“Wow,” Marinette said rather blankly.

Luka chuckled as he took it back from her. “I know it probably doesn’t look like much to you, but trust me, she’s worth it. They’re going to start throwing me out of the shop if I don’t buy her soon, I’ve been in there playing the demo so often. She’s just got such a sleek body and a great sound, she’s absolutely gorgeous.” 

Marinette couldn’t contain her giggles any longer. “I’m sorry,” she laughed. “I don’t mean to make fun of you, it’s just the way you talk about it is funny to me. I’m not belittling your passion, I promise. Did you buy that one the last time?” She nodded toward the case he’d set aside when she arrived.

“Ah, no, that one’s actually my mom’s,” Luka said, sticking the paper back onto the side of the TV. “My mom never gets rid of anything, least of all an instrument, so she’s got a bunch of different models she lets me use, but...” He sighed, his lips tightening slightly. “It’s not the same as having my own. It’s...hard to explain.” 

“I think I get it, sort of,” Marinette shrugged slightly. “Different machines have a different feel even when they’re all doing the same stitch. You find one you’re comfortable with, you stick with it. It’s probably even more true with instruments, I imagine.” She blushed and brushed back some stray hair that the breeze was whipping into her face. “I mean, I’m not a musician, so maybe I should just shut up.”

“No,” Luka smiled, and her heart fluttered at the softness in it. “It’s okay. Even if you don’t quite get it, it means a lot that you try to understand.” He threw himself back in his chair and gave her a lopsided grin that was more guarded. “So do you hate me now that you know you’re trying to fund your dream and I’m just trying to do what I love?”

“Of course not,” Marinette said in surprise. “If you’re a better player than me, you should win. It’s not about deciding whose intentions for the prize money are the most worthy. It’s a game, not a grant application. I’ll make my dreams happen another way. Winning just makes it easier.” She dared a wink of her own and felt a thrill of satisfaction when a more genuine grin took over and his shoulders lowered slightly. She hadn’t realized he was tense until that moment, but he was visibly more relaxed now. Feeling brave, she quirked an eyebrow at him. “You’re thinking small, though. Surely you don’t need the whole prize pot to pay for one guitar. I hope you’ve got plans for the rest.”

“I do,” he said simply, and Marinette felt a stab of guilt as he tensed up again. Now that she knew what to look for it was easy to see. She shouldn’t have said that. She remembered how she’d felt when he pressed her about her plans. It had felt invasive and intimidating, even though she had nothing to be ashamed of. She fell back on what had always worked to deflect the deeper conversations. 

“Well, whatever your plans are, I’m sure they’ll be great,” she said brightly, and then smirked at him. “Or they would have been, if it weren’t for me. You’re still going down, Viperion.” 

That worked, as he grinned back at her. “We’ll see, Ladybug,” he said, sitting back into his chair. “Well. For now we’re on the same side, so—ready to kick some ass or what?” 

Marinette grinned. “I’m always ready.” 

They were definitely better this time than they had been the last, more in sync. They discussed and made adjustments and Marinette was feeling very encouraged at their prospects when Luka threw his arms up with his victory whoop at a particularly difficult victory, and the familiar sound of tearing fabric hit her ears.

Luka’s tired old hoodie, it seemed, had finally had enough. He cursed softly, inspecting the damage along one shoulder. It was a pretty bad tear on a seam that was clearly already weak. “I guess it had to go sometime…” Luka sighed. “I was really hoping I’d get a little more wear out of it—” Marinette snorted, as it looked like he’d gotten plenty of wear out of it to her, but Luka ignored her. “I got it in Scotland when we were visiting family,” he continued. “It’s my favorite.”

“By the looks of it you’ve worn it every day since,” Marinette observed dryly, folding her arms.

“Yeah, you’re probably right,” Luka said reluctantly, pulling the hoodie off and regarding it with sad, fond affection that both tugged at her heart and made her want to laugh. “I guess it’s paid its dues.”

Marinette sighed and dropped her head back, rolling her eyes. “Oh my God, fine, stop with the kicked puppy look, give it here.” 

“Huh?” Luka looked up at her. 

“Give it to me, I’ll fix it,” Marinette said, with a wry smile. “You big baby.” 

Luka’s face lit up like a kid on Christmas morning. “Really, you think you can fix it? I’d hate to give it up, I’ve had it forever.” 

“Obviously,” Marinette snorted as he handed over the hoodie. She examined the torn seam, and then the other seams. “All of these need reinforcement,” she commented, and saw Luka’s face fall as she looked up. “It’s okay, I can do it,” she said, with some amusement. “If you trust your beloved pile of rags to my possession. I don’t deny the urge to chuck it overboard is strong. Do you want the repairs to show or should I try to hide them?” 

“I don’t mind if it shows,” Luka said, ruffling his hair. “But whichever is faster. I know how to sew a button back on but that’s it so whatever you say works for me. Are you sure you want to do it now? We’re supposed to be practicing and I don’t want to take up too much of your time.”

“It won’t take that long and we’re due for a break anyway,” Marinette shrugged. She draped the hoodie over her shoulder and picked up her purse, pulling out a small (well...smallish) plastic box and handing it to him. “Pick a color.”

“Wow, you carry this stuff with you all the time?” he asked, opening the box and looking at the neatly arranged contents. He deliberated a moment and then selected a spool. 

Marinette took the kit back and pulled out a needle and a pair of folding scissors. “Really?” she said, holding up the spool of bright red thread. 

Luka shrugged and grinned. “That way I’ll think of you. I don’t know, maybe it’s stupid, but it’s kind of what you said about putting a piece of yourself in the things you make. If you’re doing that for me, I don’t want it to be invisible.”

Marinette’s face turned as red as the thread in her hand, she was certain, and she was equally certain that Luka saw, with the way his grin widened and he averted his eyes, trying to pretend that he wasn’t holding back laughter. Marinette’s eyes narrowed slightly in both annoyance and sudden suspicion. “When did I say that?” 

Luka froze—just an instant, but Marinette caught it. “Ah—on your instagram,” he replied in a way that would have sounded completely casual if she hadn’t seen that quick moment of...whatever. “Your business instagram was on your poster,” he added, shrugging one shoulder. “I told you I love your team gear, so I checked it out on the subway ride home. Just for something to do.”

Marinette hummed an affirmative, the corner of her mouth quirking up. 

Luka glanced at her. “Your work is really amazing, actually. I didn’t have time to look through very much but I loved what I saw.” 

Marinette flashed him a quick smile, trying not to let on how many butterflies it felt like she’d swallowed in the last two minutes. “Thanks.” 

The pause that followed was slightly awkward as Luka ran his finger through his turquoise locks and added, “Anyway, I owe you big, thanks for doing this. Above and beyond, even for a teammate.”

“Please, you’re already helping me out, this is the least I can do,” she snorted, and then she dared to dart a smile at him. “Play for me while I work and we’ll call it even,” she added as she sat down and arranged the hoodie in her lap. 

“Really, you want me too?” He sounded so happy, Marinette was afraid to look at him. She firmly told the butterflies to settle down and waited until she was sure her voice would be steady before she answered. “Yeah, I’d love to hear it. You sounded really good before.” She shrugged one shoulder. “A little bit of you for a little bit of me, right?”  

“Well all right then,” he said, still grinning as he went to get his guitar. “Sounds like a fair trade to me.” 

Instead of going back to his perch in the sunshine he sat down in the deck chair next to her, and true to his word, he played while she sewed, occasionally asking if she had a preference, but she just shook her head. “You pick,” she said around the needle clamped between her lips as she unspooled and cut a length of thread. 

She glanced to the right only once and nearly stabbed herself with her needle at the sight of Luka’s bare arms moving as he played Stairway to Heaven, too absorbed in the music to notice her choking on her own spit, thankfully. Penchant for video games aside, Luka clearly led an active lifestyle and his arms were toned and defined without having the bulk of somebody who worked at getting that way, and that subtle swell of muscle was more than enough to send her thoughts scattering to the wind. She’d managed to keep her eyes on the game when he’d been in her room, but now, with nothing but her sewing to distract herself, and Luka absorbed in his music...Marinette sighed. As if she needed him to be any more attractive.

Fortunately Marinette was more than capable of sewing with only half of her brain online. She fixed her eyes on the fabric and resolved not to look at Luka again. She failed only once, glancing up as he suddenly sang softly, “ooh, it makes me wonder…” She met his eye and the soft look and the crooked smile he gave her as he added, “it really makes me wonder…” made her drop her gaze again, hoping he wouldn’t see the blush rising to her cheeks. He chuckled and fell silent again, focusing on his guitar again.

Her foot tapped and her head began to bob along with his as he moved into the more energetic part of the song, and Marinette couldn’t help but think this was nice. It was nice, sewing here while he made music, with the gentle rock of the boat and the open air and fabric in her hands.

A few songs later, he was playing a Jagged Stone song when Marinette caught herself singing along and stopped abruptly, glancing quickly at Luka as she felt her face go hot. 

“Don’t stop,” he grinned at her. “You sounded great.” 

Marinette snorted. “Would you want to sew one of these seams in front of me?” she asked, raising her eyebrows. 

Luka laughed that unrestrained laugh again and she tried not to feel too pleased about it. “Point taken,” he chuckled. “But really, it was good.” 

Marinette made a small noise that was neither agreement or disagreement and focused back on her task. Luka played a tune she didn’t know for a while, and Marinette fell back into her easy rhythm with the needle.

“It relaxes you, doesn’t?” 

Marinette jumped. “S-sorry?” she said, glancing at Luka for just a moment. 

“Sewing relaxes you. Usually, you’re kind of…” He interrupted the calm melody he’d been playing to play something more energetic, more powerful, but also more tense. “But the longer you work on that you get more…” he lapsed back into the calm tune he’d been playing. 

“It does,” Marinette admitted. “Simple stuff like this, anyway.” She tried to change the subject. “I don’t know that song. The one you were playing just now.” 

“Yeah,” Luka smiled. “Me neither.” Marinette looked at him sharply, frowning. Luka shrugged. “I’m just messing around,” he told her. “Just, being here like this, hanging out with you. This is how it feels. It’s nice.” 

“Yeah,” Marinette agreed, smiling down at her flashing needle. “It really is.” She reached for her folding scissors but missed, and they clattered to the deck. “Ugh, could you grab those for me?” Marinette sighed as they skittered to a stop by Luka’s foot. When he didn’t answer, she glanced up and found Luka staring at her, much like he had the other day. Marinette raised her eyebrows. “Luka? Could you get my scissors?”

Luka jerked back into motion, setting the guitar aside as he reached down and scooped her scissors up off the deck. “Sorry, guess I spaced out for a second,” he muttered, cheeks pink as Marinette took the scissors and unfolded them to clip the thread. He didn’t quite meet her eyes as he took the hoodie she held out to him.

He looked pleased as he examined it, and Marinette felt a rush of pride. She’d used a slightly decorative stitch since he wanted it to show and it was a neat job if she did say so herself. Luka pulled it on, checked the damaged seam one more time, and then grinned at her.

“You’re the best, seriously. I can’t thank you enough.” 

“Yes, you can,” Marinette said, putting her sewing things away. “And you have. So let’s not worry about it any more. Break’s over and we have ass to kick.” She grinned at him and reached for his controller.

Luka laughed, sending another frisson of satisfaction through her, and put his guitar away, grabbing his controller as he sat back down. “Let’s do this.” She glanced over at Luka just in time to catch the roguish grin and wink he sent her way, and she could only pray he looked away before her face went completely red. 

The sun was setting again when they finally decided to call it a day, congratulating each other on their mutual progress. 

“I think we’re really going to be ready,” Marinette grinned. “Team Lucky Charm coming in hot. It’s going to be epic.”

“No doubt,” Luka chuckled, and they shared a quick fist bump. 

“I should go,” Marinette said, glancing at the time and standing up to gather her few things. Luka got to his feet as well as she continued, “I think if we just practice online from here, we’ll—”  

“Luka, Maman said—,” called a mellow, rather low feminine voice behind them, much too softly to be Anarka. Luka and Marinette both turned and the speaker, a tall girl with a cascade of black hair and a face that Marinette found familiar despite the years that had passed, faltered. “Oh, sorry. She didn’t tell me you had company.”

“Juleka!” Marinette smiled, turning to face her properly. “It’s so good to see you. Wow, you look amazing! Oh, you—” She bit her lip. “You might not remember me, um, I’m...I’m Marinette Dupain-Cheng? We went to school together back at...back at um…”

“I remember,” Juleka said quietly, tilting her head slightly. 

“Yeah? That’s great.” Marinette’s conversation with Luka earlier in the week flashed through her mind, and she pursed her lips for a moment, and then plunged. “Um,” she began, fidgeting a little. “We—it doesn’t have to be now, if you don’t want to, but, I, I was hoping maybe we could...talk? I mean I didn’t come here to talk but since I’m here, and...and you’re here, and there’s really some things I feel like I ought to say to you, and I...well...anyway, now’s good for me, but later would be good too, we could go grab a drink, I mean not a drink-drink, like orange juice or something, not if there’s anything wrong with it if you’d like a drink-drink, I just don’t usually—and the places that serve those drinks are so noisy anyway, and—” Marinette jumped as Luka’s hand came down on her shoulder and squeezed gently, and she stared at the deck, stomach churning and cheeks burning for far less pleasant reasons than they had been earlier. She glanced hesitantly up at Juleka. 

Juleka’s eyes seemed to flick between the two of them, but Marinette didn’t dare look up to see Luka’s expression. “Now’s good,” Juleka said finally, tilting her head slightly. “Come on, we can talk below.” Her eyes narrowed slightly at her brother. “You stay here.”

“Yes ma’am,” Luka chuckled. “Unless you were going to tell me that Mom wanted you to remind me to fix that hole in the rigging?”

Juleka looked surprised, and then sheepish. “Oh. Right.”

“I’ll get on it,” Luka said, making a shooing motion towards them. “You two go have your talk.”

When Marinette emerged from below the deck nearly an hour later, somewhat tearstained but smiling, Luka was coiling rope on the main deck. He glanced up at her and smiled, even as Marinette raised a self-conscious hand to wipe uselessly at her probably-ruined makeup. 

“Good talk?” he asked, and Marinette nodded. “Good. I hope you both feel better with the air cleared.” 

“I think we do,” Marinette said, still holding her hand uncertainly over her face. “Thanks for the push. Ugh, I must look a mess, I’m sorry, I should’ve found a mirror...” 

Luka shook his head. “You’re fine.” He beckoned her forward, and Marinette went to him. “You’ve got a streak right—” he reached out and wiped at the corner of her eye with his thumb gently. “There, that should be good enough for you to get home.” He added softly, “That was really brave, Marinette. You didn’t have to do that, but I’m glad you did.” His fingers brushed her cheek lightly as his hand fell away, making her breath hitch and he turned back to the ropes quickly. “I’ll see you at the tournament in a few days,” he said, looking back to smile at her briefly. 

“Y-yeah,” Marinette stammered, backing away, before fleeing across the gangway. She stopped just before she hit the bank and turned back, not wanting to leave on such a frazzled, cowardly note, or she’d never be able to face him at the tournament and all this work would be for nothing and she could not let Max down that way. “Luka.” 

He jumped slightly before he looked up again, bringing one hand up to shield his eyes from the sun behind her. “Thanks for the music,” was all she could think of to say, but it was enough to let her smile at him and walk calmly down the steps with her head held high. 

Somewhere behind her she heard a soft, “Yeah, sure, anytime,” in a sort of blank voice, and she cringed a bit internally; he probably thought it was weird, after they’d already said goodbye, but it mattered to her, and so she took a deep breath and straightened her back and marched towards home with purpose.

Marinette had a bit of an internal crisis later that evening as she stood over her sewing machine and the project currently in pieces on it, fingering one diamond shaped piece of fabric as she remembered how much he loved his tattered old hoodie. She wondered whether she was overstepping. But, it was kind of too late now. She had to see this through. She couldn’t not finish it, not now. The vision was too clear and there wasn’t any repurposing the work she’d already done. She could always just...not give it to him, she supposed. It was still an option. Either way, though, there was no point quitting halfway through. Licking her lips and taking a deep breath to settle herself, she sat down at the machine, determined to finish what she started and worry about the rest later.

#quickspins #killer combo #lukanette #i am lukanette trash i admit it #endgame lukanette #lukanette endgame #luka couffaine #marinette dupain-cheng #gamer au #reverse crush #miraculousladybug #miraculous ladybug #ml fics

[torannosaurusrexy]

Champagne & Pools

Chapter 1/?: “Commando”

➝ Genre: Fic

➝ Pairing: Jeon Jungkook | Reader

WARNING: This AU contains language, recreational drug usage, and sexual themes that some readers may find unsettling, please take caution when reading.

➝ Word Count: 5.2k

➝ Summary: After a night full of red solo cups, gyrating bodies, and too many hot frat boys to count ends, you wake without a memory of it. Jungkook however, remembers all of it, and will do whatever he has to to convince you that it was the greatest night of his existence.

➝ Chapter Song: < LISTEN HERE >

Pain floods your head when you wake this morning. Bounds of bad decisions coalesce and force the pain to get even worse when you open your eyes. Whatever happened last night was more than you originally signed up for. Flashes of colorful lights, jello shots, and cannon balls assault your hungover memory. You press the heel of your palm into your sore sockets, pining for a relief that never comes. When removed you examine the room around you. It’s not yours that’s for damn sure, unless of course you forgot how to clean and own a bong. Not Yoongi’s either, he’d never live in a room that wasn’t a shade of gray. 

You must still be at the frat house. Its the only true way to explain your hangover and the fuzzy memories you have of vibrating bass and—oh shit, where is your phone and your…panties? With your mind bombarded and worrisome tendencies you hadn’t even come to realize that astride your body, with an arm holding you firm at the waist is a slumbering young man. His hair is a deep cocoa color. His lips are parted by incoming air, and his other hand is tucked neatly behind his head. Slowly, you try to peel yourself away from him but of course, his bed creaks more than your sore bones. 

You manage to escape, finding the jeans you wore last night. Thankfully, your bra is still on and a shirt remains flush against your body. Fuck your panties, leaving before he wakes up is more important right now. Besides, they were not your favorite pair anyway. Creeping over discarded socks, questionable pizza boxes, and condom wrappers, you enter the hallway. 

You jump upon spotting your best friend, fingers toying with the button to your jeans.

“You look like shit.” Yoongi chimes, brushing his teeth.

“Morning to you too.” You whisper, trying to keep your pain at an all time low. 

He chuckles, pausing his teeth brushing to point at you. “Fly’s down.”

“Huh?”

He points again, shrugging, “Your shutters are open. Y’know, I can see bikini bottom…are you commando?” He spits into the bathroom sink, filled with crushed beer cans.

“Shhhhh, I’ll explain later, please tell me your bed is open; I can’t possibly walk home right now.” Yoongi smirks, a knowing look.

“That good huh?” He rinses the toothbrush.

You scratch your head, suddenly worried about your hair and the clown mask smeared across your face. “Nothing memorable that’s for sure.”

“You don’t remember last night?”

“Just the couple hundred jello shots I downed.”

Yoongi sucks air through gritted teeth, “Yikes.”

“Yeah…now, bed?” You point at his door, across the hall and ajar from him coming out of it. 

“Sorry Captain Commando, unlike someone…I scored last night.”

“Who’s to say I didn’t?”

Yoongi crosses his arms, amused. “You didn’t, I handed you off to Jungkook when you tried to strip near the pool. I figured if you were going to be naked I’d rather you do it behind closed doors.” So that’s who’s bedroom you woke up in. You should’ve recognized him, it must’ve been your rush to leave that kept you from realizing.

You clear your throat, “I’ll repeat my question, who’s to say I didn’t score?” You cross your arms.

Yoongi continues his assault, smiling wide. “I. Handed. You. Off. To. Jungkook.”

You nod, still confused. You have just emerged panty-less from a rather attractive college frat boys bedroom. To many, that’s enough to say you got laid. Then again…you don’t remember getting dick, and you have a feeling Jeon Jungkook’s would be rather memorable.  “Yeah…Jungkook is the designated panty dropper of BTS, and clearly he snatched mine.”

“Nah, he knows you’re off limits.”

You cluck your tongue, “Which only makes me more desirable.”

Yoongi sighs, rolling his eyes. “None of the guys will touch you because you’re friends with me. Get used to being dry sweetheart.”

“Ugh, cock block.” You sigh, smiling because you know he’s right.

“Trust me, Jungkook would be just as surprised as you were this morning to find you half naked. He was clothed wasn’t he?”

“Yeah…”

“That should be enough to prove me right. Now if you’ll excuse me…morning head is calling.” He walks towards his door.

“Fuck you Yoongi." You call after him.

He whispers back, sending you a kiss. “Love you too babe, there’s food downstairs if you wanna make some breakfast. Jin might have a spare pair of panties too if you’re interested.”

“Hard pass.” Jin’s collection of hoe’s lingerie is enticing, but equably disgusting.

What Yoongi called food was leftover chicken stir-fry, a questionable jar of mayonnaise…and whipped cream which you have a sneaking suspicion is Taehyung’s and isn’t meant for regular consumption. Thankfully, they own a box of just add water pancake mix, and you count that as a major score. You try not to make too much noise, considering you’re probably not the only one around here with a pounding headache. You’d already searched for some sort of over the counter relief only to come up empty. So you settle for a glass of water instead. Using your phone to play some light music, you flip the pancakes with ease. While doing so you can’t help but let your mind wander back to the night before. 

What could have possibly led to you falling asleep in Jungkook’s arms? To be fair, you are a rather flirtatious drunk and think that could have led to Jungkook being fished in by Yoongi. Yoongi would have enjoyed watching you make a fool of yourself all over Jungkook. He definitely saw more than he bargained for. Then again…knowing Yoongi, he would’ve pushed for Jimin instead. Its possible that Jimin was…preoccupied and Jungkook was a last stitch resort. 

Poor Jungkook, the kid has only been part of the frat for a couple months now and he’s already been subjected to assault via drunk you. You figured he would’ve gone at least a year without that happening. Now that you’re thinking about it, you probably cost him a hookup last night. 

“Crap!” You yelp, inhaling smoke from a now charred pancake, hacking it back up. 

“Having trouble?”

You turn, finding Jimin shirtless and leaning against the countertop. 

“Clearly.” You choke, drinking him in. “I’ll blame it on the hangover.”

Jimin laughs, gleaming under his faded orange locks. His roots are darker now, smothering the orange in an inky hue. It has definitely been a few months since the initial dyeing. Curse the fact that he makes it look so fucking good. “After last night I figured you would have one. I’ll make you a protein shake, god knows I need one.”

“Thank you, I’ll return the favor in pancakes.” You clear your throat, trying to sound less squeaky. “What do you mean by ‘after last night’?”

Jimin licks yogurt off a spoon, pointing it at you after he does so. “Right…Yoongi mentioned that your memory might be a little fuzzy.”

“You saw him this morning?”

Jimin grins, eyes on what he’s preparing. “Nah, heard him though.” You shiver. “I caught him kissing some girl late last night, dragged him by the ear to find out if you were alright, he mentioned it then. Considering the unholyness I heard when I passed his door, I think he found her again after we talked.”

You blush, clearing your throat. “And..?”

“He said that your liver couldn’t handle Jin’s jello shots and that he called time of death just a few minutes before I found him.”

“That bastard.”

You both chuckle lightly at Yoongi’s dark humor. “Yeah well, thank god that wasn’t the truth.”

“Maybe not, but this pounding in my head is making me re-think the whole living thing.”

You hear something rattling behind you, and turn to see Jimin shaking a small pill bottle. Advil no doubt. “Breakfast of champions.” He smiles, tossing it to you.

“Balanced as all things should be.” Jimin laughs, watching as you place two on the counter before pushing the bottle back to him. “Thanks.”

“Don’t mention it.” Jimin turns the blender on. You flinch. “Sorry.” He says once that step is complete. “I should have warned you.”

“No it’s okay, I deserved that.”

“And this.” Jimin winks, sliding a freshly blended protein monstrosity towards you.

You shut off the stove, serving your pancakes on a large plate next to the drinks. The sound of their preparation may have ripped your mental state to shreds, but the taste of protein pumped berry goodness was well worth it.

You end up moaning out loud when the shake hits your tongue, a soothing hint of mint serenading the thumping of your skull. You swallow the Advil with it. When you open your eyes Jimin is watching you closely, taking a hefty swig from his own shake. “Good?” He asks after swallowing, a knowing grin smeared across his pillow lips.

“If my moan wasn’t clarification enough, then yes.” He nods, pleased with your answer. You pick up a pancake, dousing it in the syrup you found in one of the cabinets that wasn’t dedicated to hot Cheetos or peanut butter.

“So, I heard about the pool.”

“Oh god don’t remind me. All I know is Yoongi handed me off to Jungkook at some point…I’m assuming it was after my thirty-second jello shot, but before my walk of shame.”

“Yikes.”

You hum an affirmation, “Yeah, I think Jin cut me off at some point. So maybe doing a strip-tease by the pool was my form of rebellion.”

“It definitely was something.”

“Oh great, you saw it too?”

“Everyone saw it love. I hate to say it but…you were the highlight of the party.”

“That doesn’t make me feel any better.”

“Don’t worry your pretty little head too much, Namjoon ended up slipping in some puke last night, landed in Tae’s lap. Everyone forgot about your debut into stripperhood by then.”

“Phew, good thing Jungkook was there when he was. There could be a viral video of me naked by your pool if he wasn’t.”

“Would that be such a shame?” Jimin smiles, wiggling his eyebrows. You punch his shoulder. 

“Trust me, it would have been.” 

Jimin pauses his sipping, “I’m kind of surprised Jungkook was by the pool at all. I figured he of all people would’ve been drowning in some freshman pussy.” 

You chuckle, but deep down you’re worried that pussy may have been yours in the end.

“Yeah I woke up next to him this morning, it seems like he took watching me pretty seriously.”

“If he took advantage I swear I’ll--”

You laugh, “I don’t think you need to worry. Yoongi laughed when I mentioned that possibility. He said I’m off limits.”

“Shame.”

“Hm?”

“I just feel bad. I would have gladly given you my bed instead beautiful.”

You blush, licking remnants of syrup from your fingertips. The plate of pancakes now finds itself empty, syrup littering the expanse. “I’ll remember that for next time.” You manage to say, a finger brushing your lower lip. Jimin gleams. “I should probably meet up with Raegan, she’ll want to know if I lived.” Gulping the last bit of shake, you grab the last strand of dignity you have and start for the door.

“You sure you don’t need a ride or anything? I don’t have class today.”

“Thanks Chim, but my dorm is only a block or so away, I’ll manage.” Jimin follows you into the foyer, ripped streamers and empty solo cups littering its usually pristine landing. “Thanks for the shake. I feel a lot better.”

“Anything for my favorite girl.”

You roll your eyes, “I thought that was Tae’s spot, don’t let him catch you slipping.”

Jimin laughs, “Tell that to Namjoon. I’ll text you.”

“Okay, bye Chim.”

You close the front door behind you, finding the sun to be more bearable now that your stomach is happy and your liver doesn’t want to kill you. “Holy shit, Jimin wasn’t wearing a shirt. And I was able to talk…this has been a strange twenty-four hours.” 

“Strange isn’t the word I would use.” Hoseok emerges from the bushes below the front steps, his shirt is half unbuttoned and he has leaves in his hair. “What time is it?” He rubs his eyes subconsciously.

“My god Hoseok! What the fuck!” You hold your heart, coming down from the scare you just received. 

“Ow! Don’t fucking yell dipshit!” He screams back, squinting at you under messy red locks.

“What in the sam hell are you doing sleeping with the worms?”

“I must have blacked out here, that rager really was something.” He points to the mulch he used as a mattress, an assprint pushed into it. “Leaving so soon princess? The party isn’t over yet.” 

“Funny, but it’s noon and I have an iced coffee with my name on it. You need to eat something solid, and find a breath mint.”

“I can give you something solid.”

“Goodbye Hoseok~” You say as you continue down the frat house walkway, giving him a cute little wave as you do so. You can hear him laughing, and it makes you smile. Hoseok may be gross, and he passes out in bushes…but as Yoongi said before, he and the others know you can’t be touched. It sure is funny watching him try though.

“And the jello shot junky returns!”

You do a sarcastic pageant queen spin, complete with an ending pose. “I prefer pong princess. Here.” You hand Reagan her usual order from the Starbucks down the street. 

“Thank you, slave.” She smiles through whipped cream dusted lips. You chuckle, plopping yourself into the corner of your shared L-shaped couch next to her. Stained with remnants of Italian Nights and Taco Tuesdays. “So…did you ever find your panties?”

“Fuck, I forgot about those.”

“How could you forget you’re nakey when denim is all up in the Cock Kingdom?” 

You exhale a laugh out of your nose, “First of all, please never refer to my place of business as the Cock Kingdom ever again.”

“Would you prefer Pussy Palace? Dick Dungeon? Phallus Fort?”

“No I- Dick Dungeon? That’s not bad actually…but still a hard no.” You shake your head, both equably disappointed and proud of Rae for having the braincells to come up with such a cacophony of nick-names after the mental beatdown both of you surely took last night. “I forgot to look for them before I left.”

Raegan huffs an affirmation. “My money’s on the pool pavement. It’s definitely out there just waiting to be found by an unsuspecting frat boy. Maybe Jin will add them to his collection…he does have one right?”

“A collection of conquests panties? Sadly yes. And let’s just agree to forget that whole strip tease ever happened.”

“It was more than a strip tease Honey. I will be sure to play the video on your wedding day!” Raegan sips her peppermint monstrosity unphased, mint on her tongue.

“What?” You turn your head violently to face her, sitting up in a rush.

Raegan continues to describe the horror of a maid-of-honor speech you need to start preparing for, its bound to be a whopper at this rate. “It can be part of my maid of honor speech. Be all sentimental and crap, then just when moms in tears…BAM, stripping at a frat party.”

Grabbing her by the shoulders, you shake your best friend and recorder of all embarrassing moments in your life, “Rae, did you say you have it on video?!”

She breaks free, steading herself with another sip. “Well obviously, drunk me still has her priorities straight.”

“Can I see it?!” You yell.

“Alright alright! Don’t get your panties in a—oh wait…”

“Shut up.”

She laughs, pulling out her phone and scrolling through what must be hundreds of selfies and videos from last nights mistake. Raegan has always been the social drunk. She’s constantly throwing herself in the arms of strangers and chanting the words ‘Lets take a picture!’ through alcohol slurred lips. You are honestly shocked she didn’t wake up alongside Hobi in the bushes this morning.

“Holy shit, Rae is that Taehyung?” You point at her screen, a blurred mess of a snapshot smeared across it.

“Nope, Namjoon.” She beams.

“What is he—“

Raegan swipes twice, “Here wait I have a better picture of it.”

“Oh my god! Raegan Louise!” You yelp, clarity making you look away.

“What?! I saw an opportunity…and I took it!” 

“Never in my life would I picture Namjoon as a human shot glass!”

“His belly-button was the perfect size. Carpe Diem my love.” Raegan shrugs, acting nonchalant about slurping a mouthful of tequila from the frat presidents belly button.

“Fair enough, now where is this life-ruining video of yours.” 

She scrolls further, finding a couple from just after the incident along with a zoom in of your panties.

“If I knew this was going to happen I would’ve worn a cuter pair.” 

“Oh cmon, the giant panda face on the back is so innocent~”

“I’m burning my wardrobe.”

“Here, I found it.”

Raegan presses play. The video shakes for a second and there’s far too much yelling to make out any coherent words. At first, she’s recording the inside of the house. In the background Taehyung is seen doing a keg-stand. If you weren’t so concerned with the upcoming turn of events you would’ve glanced at the way his shirt is gathered around his neck. Instead, you see what Jimin meant by Yoongi kissing some girl. More like swallowing her. 

That’s when you hear it, a cheer so loud it turns heads. Someone runs into the room, informing all of those in it that you’re about to turn the heat up a notch. Yoongi bolts from the girl, no apology leaving his lips when he separates from hers. She follows, wounded and confused. You can hear Rae muttering a profanity under her breath. The camera fumbles in her hands, she pushes past the crowd to reveal you, half-dressed with your arms behind your back about to unclasp your bra. 

You watch in horror, hands over your agape mouth. “Oh god no.”

“Oh honey yes…”

She fast forwards a few seconds, revealing a starstruck Jimin who rushes forward with Yoongi in tow. Before you know it Jimins shirt is off and thrown towards your face. You catch it with a giggle, shimmying your panties off before Jungkook suddenly appears from behind you. He grabs both your legs and throws you over his shoulder. Your ass is completely exposed to all those watching. The cameras final frame shows the slammed back door before it cuts out and all else is left to the imagination. 

“Welp, there you have it.” Raegan says, shrugging.

You are absolutely starstruck, embarrassed and shocked. On the bright side, you now know exactly what happened. Also, that Raegan seemed to be the only one sober enough to record. That’s the hope. “Delete it.”

“What? But I just said—“

“Raegan please. I can never see that video again.”

“Okay, just know that doing so brings me great pain.”

“I apologize.”

Raegan deletes the video with just a few taps, the first frame disappearing from view in lieu of a conversational meme she’s uses over text. “There, goodbye sweet sweet memory.”

“And hello sweet sweet relief.”

The days following seem to be for the most part normal, you attend your classes normally, pumped full of caffeine and dreading finals week. The only ones who spoke of The Incident were Raegan and the BTS boys. Yoongi in particular, just couldn’t let the story go.

“I still can’t believe you made Raegan delete the video. That shit was comedy gold and could have had you going down in BTS rager history.”

“As invigorating as that would have been, I really don’t think I need my portrait framed above the words ‘Pool Panty Princess.’”

“I beg to differ.” Yoongi looks away, swirling a finger around the spoon he submerged in liquid energy. “He told me that he’s been looking for you.”

“What? Who has?” You take a jab at the plate of disco fries ahead of you, doused in gravy and snug beneath layers of cheese. Yoongi watches you do so, content with his black coffee and dark intentions. 

“Jungkook; he’s been acting strange since the party.” You pause your eating, mouth full of the one dish you wish to be buried beneath. “You swear nothing happened between you two?”

“Why are you asking me when you were so sure I would be left high and dry?” You fall back against the booth, worn with previous diners butts. “Besides, I can’t remember anything after darts with Jimin. Everything is a messed up blur.”

“I know. Its just really weird, I’m so used to seeing Kook as the kid who never shuts the fuck up. Lately, he’s been the opposite.”

“Elaborate.”

“Alright well, I was in the kitchen with Jimin the day after the party. Kook came down from his room in the middle of the conversation we were having. Your name happened to come up and he froze.”

“Half the guys have been like that, the party was crazy. Also, what kind of conversation were you having with Jimin where my name was involved?”

“Irrelevant, have you even seen Jungkook?”

You roll your eyes, “No, why?”

“My point exactly. He’s avoiding you.”

“You just said he was looking for me.”

“I’m just saying, it seems like he’s conflicted. Confront him, clearly he remembers something you don’t.”

“How the hell would I do that, Jungkook is like a baby bird. Flightless, skittish, and far too innocent.” 

“Geez, and here I was thinking you always had eyes for Jimin.”

“Besides the point, Jungkook’s in my psychology class, I’ll see him then. I’m sure everything is fine.”

Yoongi laughs, taking another sip from his mug. You blush, suddenly losing your appetite. “You’re not very good at hiding things.”

“And you’re not very good at giving head, so shut up.”

“Oh honey, now you’re just grabbing at straws.”

“Yeah even I knew that was wrong before I said it.”

“How would you know? I’ve never given you head—is this your way of asking?”

“God no! I’ll pass.”

“I’m sure Jimin would oblige, and given the way he’s been acting I’m sure Kook would be down too.”

“Relationship advice from Mr. One Night Stand himself? I’m honored.”

“Eat your fries.”

“Hey.” You try to say the word with some power behind it, however it falls flat against the tile of the stingy classroom floor. Jungkook slips into the seat next to you, looking your way when you speak. 

“Hey.” He copies, slipping his red backpack off and tossing it to the floor. 

You bite your lip, hearing Yoongi’s voice like a mantra in your head.

When you look up from the face of your desk Jungkook’s eyes are on yours and the class is silent. He looks away almost as fast as you looked up, brushing a hand through his fluffy hair. It’s now or never and you can’t possibly let Yoongi berate you about putting this conversation off any longer.

“Jungkook, I need to ask you something.” You watch him lift his head, promptly scanning the class before answering. 

“Okay?” He whispers, displaying a slightly crooked tooth through an agape set of lips. “If this is about finding an old childhood photo of you dressed as a milk man in Yoongi’s wallet then I swear I didn’t tell a soul.”

“No Kook!” The class shushes you. “I’ll explain that another time, this is about last weekend.” Jungkook raises an eyebrow, confused. You explain further, “I woke up in your bed…I didn’t have pants on…ringing any bells?”

Jungkook smiles, on the verge of laughing. “I think I’d remember sleeping with you ______.”

“I beg to differ, you sleep with a lot of girls Jungkook.”

“You calling me a tramp?”

“Maybe, just tell me please. Did we have sex?”

“Why? Do you want to?”

“Kook!” Another shush from the class. 

“I have fifteen before my next class, there’s a janitors closet down the hall, meet there?”

“Jungkook, no. I just want to know if we did anything.”

Jungkook looks away, searching his memories for something helpful. “Tell you what, come to the BTS house tonight, maybe Jin’s jello shots will spur your memory.” 

You roll your eyes. “Just what I need, more vodka.”

“I’d love to help; except there’s still some parts i’m trying to remember myself. So, sorry sweetheart, my lips are sealed…tight.” He puts emphasis on the word tight and it makes you shiver with some kind of foreign anticipation.

“What if I said please?”

“Get on your knees and i’ll consider it.”

You roll your eyes, “You’re starting to sound like Yoongi.”

“Ouch.” Jungkook stands, fellow students rising to rush off to their next lecture. “See you later.” He winks, leaving promptly.

“And how dare you assume a lady like myself would do it in a janitors closet!” You yell after him, but he’s already gone.

“He said he was still trying to figure it out himself, and then he tried to seduce me into a janitors closet.”

“I admire his boldness, but the fuck?” Yoongi licks peanut butter off the knife he’s holding, gingerly using it to cut his sandwich into four little triangles.

“You sound like my inner monologue right now.” You lean against the countertop in the BTS Frathouse kitchen. To your surprise, it looks very nice when the counters aren’t covered in solo cups, horny sorority princesses and stale chips. 

“What happened afterwards?” Yoongi continues, pouring himself a glass of OJ with enough pulp to scare oranges into hiding.

“Nothing, he invited me to the house party tonight—which you happened to not tell me about.”

“Must’ve slipped my mind.” He slurs through the first bite of PB&J.

“I sense sarcasm.”

“At least now you know he wants you here. Maybe stay away from the jello shots this time?”

“I know that much, thanks.” You steal a triangle.

“And if you’re going to do anything with anyone tonight…maybe shoot for Jimin.”

You pause, placing your hands on your hips. “I guess the whole ‘off limits’ thing is shot to hell now.”

“That was before I thought you had a shot with not one, but two of the guys currently drooling at your feet.”

“Oh please…they’re not drooling.”

“You’re right, the word slobbering fits better.”

“Maybe I shouldn’t go, people are going to laugh and say stupid shit about the last party.”

“So what, you have me and the other guys here to back you up. There’s nothing to worry about. Besides, everyone was wasted that night.”

You hear heavy footsteps cascading the staircase as Yoongi speaks, its obvious that they belong to a focused Namjoon even before he slips into the room. “’Sup guys?”

“Hey Joonie.”

“Hey Hyung.” Yoongi barely takes a breath before continuing to bombard you with reasons to attend tonight. “I’ll tell you what, the second your social meter runs out I’ll give you my room key and you can hide in there all night if you want.”

You fake a sniffle, “You’d give up the chance at some random freshman pussy for me?”

Yoongi rolls his eyes, “Just say yes before I change my mind.”

“I would’ve gone anyway but you just kept going.”

“Fuck you.” Yoongi laughs.

“What’s this I hear about pussy?” Taehyung says, bouncing into the kitchen with a suspicious glass of clear liquid in his hand.

Sadly, you’re the one to catch a whiff of his breath as he passes. “Taehyung its not even noon yet what in the holy mother of hell are you doing with that?” You point to the glass, and he smirks.

“Five o’clock somewhere.” He shrugs, sipping generously. “I’m kidding, its sparkling water, here.” He slides it towards you before walking next to Namjoon who’s absorbed into the grilled cheese he’s trying not to burn. You scrunch your eyebrows, lifting the glass and taking an experimental sip. Immediately, you gag as the raw tequila touches your tongue. You jump up and spit it into the nearby sink, drawing laughter from everyone in the room. 

“Sparkling water my ass!”

“I’m sorry, you made it too easy!”

“Fuck!” You turn the tap on, sticking your head underneath to rinse your tongue and gargle water.

Due to your luck, both Jimin and Hoseok walk into the room as you turn the water on and they get to watch as you stand head back and tongue in the wind. “Ah fuck, this situation looks vaguely familiar.” Jimin chuckles, picking up the glass you hastily sipped from. He sniffs it, ripping his head away the second his nose hairs are disintegrated. “Jesus Tae.”

“Oh cmon, I saw an opportunity!”

“You okay?” Jimin slips past the crowd and slowly rubs your back as you wipe your mouth and nod. You catch a glimpse of Yoongi smiling into his orange juice, his eyes suggestive. 

“Hm? Oh yeah, psh, fine…thanks.”

“Want a grilled cheese?”

Yoongi nods furiously, dropping not so subtle hints.

“No; its okay, I think I’m gonna go for a swim. Thirty minute rule…you know.”

“Good call, I guess I should skip the grilled cheese too.”

“What? No!” Your hands land of Jimin’s stomach as you reflexively move to stop him from following. He looks down, confused until you revoke them, “You should eat, breakfast is the most important meal of the day. Join me after?”

Jimin grins. “Okay.” He says in short, a smile still on his face even after you’re moving towards the patio. You look over his shoulder one last time to see Yoongi slam his face into the countertop, awash with disappointment. 

The sound of their distant talking fades once you escape to the back patio, however you aren’t alone for long as Yoongi and his orange juice joins you.

“That was painful to watch.” He says, walking towards you.

“Leave me alone pulp boy.” You sulk, sitting on the edge of the pool and putting your feet in the heated water.

“Woah, my pulp never did anything to you.” Yoongi frowns, a short-lived sarcastic feature. He joins you.

You sigh, leaning your head on his shoulder. “Ugh, did he say anything after I left?”

“Babe, Jimin’s a guy. The second you left he asked Joon to make him a grilled cheese and snorted a line of pre-workout.” He slurps more of his juice.

“Really?” You look up at him, a worried lip.

Yoongi suddenly feels bad for playing with you’re feelings…but can’t stop himself. Taehyung’s right, you make it too easy. “No, first he looked at your ass.”

“You’re lying.” You swallow, turning red.

Yoongi smiles, suggesting he’s joking. “Thats what you get for insulting my pulp.”

“Asshat.” You grumble, slightly disappointed. You couldn’t help but hope Jimin looked, or at least glanced.

“Cocksleeve.” He gibs back, finishing off his orange juice as you once again lay your head on his shoulder with a smile.

#Champagne & Pools #C&P #JJKxReader #Jeon Jungkook x reader #jungkookxreader #fic #collegeAU #BTS #q:chokeonthis

[repulsivepangolin7]

Fic: 31 days of whump (30/31)

Word count: 1 940

He had no way of dodging the punch that was headed his way. He had a wall to his right, and a wall behind him, and on his left a second mean-looking dude blocked his way.

The shockwave from the punch traveled all the way through his abdomen, just like he had expected, but then the guy in front of him looked satisfied with himself and prompted the other guy to follow him.

Street looked down, and his heart sank.

He didn’t expect seeing the handle of a knife sticking out of his lower left side.

“Shit…” he just kept staring at it in disbelief. All this for sticking up for a girl he didn’t know.

He felt panic gripping at him. He had a freaking knife stuck inside him.

He grabbed his phone out of his pocket and dialed 911 as he started walking towards the front of the street. A knife in the gut definitely called for a hospital visit, and he had no foolproof way of knowing if the knife had done some real damage or not. It probably had, it was buried to its hilt.

But it didn’t really feel that bad yet. If anything, it felt absurd.

It was like it ought to hurt, but it didn’t.

It was like it ought to knock him on his ass, but there he was, walking without too much trouble.

The only thing he knew for sure right now, was to let the blade stay where it was. For all he knew, it could be the only thing keeping him from gushing blood.

 SWATSWATSWAT

 “Hey, Hondo… I just got a call from Street.” Luca bit down on his lower lip, “He told me to tell you that he’s going… He’s going in for surgery. He- He was stabbed tonight… Says he’s doing fine all things considered. Alright, call me when you get this, okay?”

He hung up and squeezed his right fist so hard his knuckles cracked.

Even though Street had said multiple times that he felt good, and that the doctors were optimistic about his recovery, nothing about this night felt okay.

Oh dear lord how bad he wanted to punch something.

He shook his head and started pacing again, from the corner of the kitchen counter, to the pinball machine and back.

Then his phone started ringing. He picked up.

“Hey Luca, I just missed your call. Heard the voicemail, what happened? How is he?”

“He didn’t really say much. Just that he had been stabbed in the gut by some guy who had been picking on some girl. He called for an ambulance by himself, and climbed into it on his own. Man, I’m stressed!” Luca blew out an exasperated breath, “Anyway, he’s not coming in to work the day after tomorrow.”

“Of course not…” Hondo agreed, “How are you holding up? Would you like some company?”

“I’ve got Duke keeping me company, he’s laying under the table looking at me…” Luca shrugged, “Probably thinks I’m acting funny or something.”

“I could come over.” Hondo offered.

“It’s not necess-”

“-I know it’s not necessary. Do you want me to come over?”

Luca stalled a bit, looked over at Duke who tilted his head at him. As if asking ‘what’s wrong?’

“Probably smart not to be alone, huh?” Luca sighed, “Yeah, come over.”

“Alright, I’ll be there in twenty, just need to put some real clothes on.”

Luca couldn’t help but smirk at that comment, “Yeah, I should probably find a t-shirt to go with my PJ-pants. I’m not changing pants though.”

He could hear Hondo chuckle at the other end of the line. “Alright, see you in twenty. Call me if something happens.”

“Will do…” Luca nodded.

 SWATSWATSWAT

 As soon as they had hung up, he contemplated calling the rest of the team, but Street had only specified Hondo. The rest of the team could wait until the morning.

He paced a bit more, before he decided to go to his bedroom to punch the crap out of the sandbag he had hanging there.

The bag wasn’t enough. It didn’t relieve pressure as well as he had hoped. He continued punching. Continued trying to get some negative energy out of his system.

It didn’t work. Not tonight.

He broke away from the bag, pulled one deep breath before he spun around and chose the concrete wall in stead of the punching bad for his impromptu workout.

He kept hitting the wall until fatigue got to him and his legs almost gave out.

His hands were shaking, he couldn’t hold them still for the life of him. He looked up and saw that he had colored an area of the wall red with blood.

He looked down at his hands, and his knuckles were bruised, bloody and swollen.

He was soaked with sweat. He glanced at the clock on the wall, he had maybe five minutes to clean up before Hondo got there.

Grabbing a fresh t-shirt, PJ-pants and some boxers, he half-jogged over to his bathroom.

 SWATSWATSWAT

 While he was in the shower, washing the sweat off of him and the blood off his knuckles, the adrenaline started wearing off and his hands started hurting.

Soap made the cuts and abrasions on his knuckles sting like they were on fire. And moving his fingers made him wince when he didn’t prepare well enough.

He stepped out of the shower and reached for the towel. His hands were still shaking, but now they were aching as well.

He dried off quickly, and looked down at his hands.

There were a couple of good gashes over his knuckles. Two of them were gaping quite a bit, and could probably use a stitch or two each. But a couple of Steri-Strips would have to do.

He dried his hands a bit better, then he attempted to close the wounds with the thin adhesive strips. Would’ve been a lot easier if his hands weren’t swollen to heck and stiff.

After that, he put the fresh set of clothes on. He realized how his hands were looking and figured he had to hide them with zip-hoodie. Then he had to re-apply the Steri-Strips because they had peeled off.

Just as he was done closing his wounds a second time, he heard Hondo’s car pull up outside.

He pulled the sleeves well over his hands to hide them, before he opened the door to the living room in order to meet Hondo.

 SWATSWATSWAT

 Hondo had his own key to Luca’s home, so it didn’t take long before he was inside.

“How are you…” Hondo asked as soon as they saw each other, then his lips curved into a small smile, “So, you flexed too hard?”

Luca got real confused for a split second, before he looked down at his t-shirt, the print saying ‘I flexed and the sleeves fell off’. Then he shrugged and nodded.

“So, how are you?”

Luca took a calming breath and shook his head, “It rattled me.”

Hondo nodded as Luca walked over to the couch to sit down.

“I mean, we’re not supposed to get hurt, but when we do…” Luca shook his head as he placed his elbows on his knees, “We’re supposed to get hurt on the job. Not out on the town with friends…”

Hondo nodded again, and sat down on the couch as well.

They sat in silence for a while, then Hondo spoke up, “Your hands are shaking…”

Luca looked down at them and saw how bad they were still shaking. “Yeah, I beat the crap out of my punching bag from our call ended and until I had to jump in the shower. Muscle fatigue.”

Hondo nodded, and looked over Luca’s head, “You forgot to close the door to your bedroom… Let me see your hands.”

“Huh?” Luca’s head jerked up and he glanced over at the bloody wall, then back at Hondo.

“How are your hands looking?”

Luca groaned, but raised his arms to peel back the sleeves of the zip hoodie. Only to find that his hands were feeling progressively worse. He barely managed to avoid grimacing.

Hondo frowned as he saw the damage Luca had managed to do himself. “Punching bag, huh?”

Luca chuckled a little, “Yeah… Well…”

Hondo reached out for Luca’s right hand when the blond’s attention was off somewhere else. He really wasn’t expecting it when Luca yelped and pulled his hand away.

“Sorry.”

Luca shook his head, grimacing as he held both his hands close to his chest, not really able to cradle either hand.

“Broken?”

Luca shook his head, “Don’t think so…”

“Well, I think you should get some pictures taken…” Hondo sighed, “Of both your hands.”

Luca shrugged.

“I can drive you to the urgent care right now if you want to…” Hondo offered, “It’s almost 4 a.m. and with luck we’ll be done there just in time to visit Street.”

Luca sighed and glanced down at his beaten up hands, then he reluctantly nodded.

“Alright, but you might want some other pants. The muscle shirt and the hoodie is fine, but pajamas…?”

Luca nodded, “Yeah… Sure.”

“-And if you tell me where you’ve got your cleaning supplies, I can see what damage I can make to that stain you’ve got on your wall… I don’t think you’re up to it, and Street won’t be either.”

Luca nodded a little more, “Yeah, thanks… It’s in the laundry room. Under the sink.”

Hondo nodded and got up.

 SWATSWATSWAT

 Jim was a little groggy when he woke up. Half of the team was already there, Tan, Luca and Hondo were missing.

The fact that Luca and Hondo still wasn’t there confused him a bit. He had told Luca that he could tell Hondo straight away, but that the rest of the team could wait until the morning.

He was a bit too groggy to really address it yet, he was also a bit too groggy to keep a decent conversation with those from the team who was already present.

He dozed off a couple of times before he actually felt like waking up.

He had just woken up for the nth time when he heard Luca’s voice from down the hall. Then he heard Hondo’s voice giving a reply to whatever Luca had said.

He did a short wave at the two of them, Hondo waved back and Luca nodded at him.

“Kinda thought you two would’ve been the first ones here…”

“Oh, we were…” Hondo shook his head and gave Luca a solid pat on the back.

“Huh?”

Luca sighed and pulled his hands out of his pockets, showing off one hand wrapped in gauze and one wrapped in cast.

“What happened?”

“I went ham on the punching bag…” Luca shrugged.

“Yeah, and then you went ham on the concrete wall when the bag wasn’t enough…” Hondo added.

“Ouch…” Street frowned, “Are you alright?”

Luca chuckled, “Yeah man… I’m not the one stuck in a hospital bed.”

Street smirked, “Bet that I’ll be 100% before you are…”

“Game on, kid.” Luca grinned, “Game on…”

Hondo chuckled.

“So, how are you feeling?” Luca asked back after a little while.

“My stomach hurts. And my shoulders hurt…” Street shrugged, “The nurse explained that it was typical of the sort of surgery I had. Called it air pain, because of the air the surgical team used to blow up my belly to make room to operate.”

“Ow, I felt that when I had my appendix removed…” Chris frowned.

“But hey, I will almost have no scarring, so…” he shrugged a little, “That’s cool I guess.”

#Swat fanfiction #whump #roll swat #hondo #hondo harrelson #luca #Dominic Luca #dominique luca #Street #jim street #chris #chris alonso #david kay #deacon #tan #victor tan #fanfiction #swat #s.w.a.t

[writingamongtheroses-archive]

Showtime, Chapter 2

(Because, somehow, I never posted 2.)

Night 1

The uniform was too big.

Liza ended up rolling up the pants to tuck them into her work boots and used a few spare pins to keep the sleeves of her button-up rolled up. The entire thing was a shade of blue, faded in the way a few hundred washes could only do. Over her heart was Ted Bear's Pizza, stitched in golden thread. (Which was weird, since none of the characters were yellow.) The worse part was the hat.

She could've just dropped the scarf. It wasn't like anyone was going to see her or the scars that arched across her forehead. But the very thought of losing her comfort item made her want to faint. So, she struggled for fifteen minutes to get the too-small hat to fit over the scarf before she glanced at the clock and gave it one last pull before booking it out the door.

She could take the hat off at the office.

Liza arrived at 11:40, right when the last of the cleaning crew was leaving. Mr. Calworth was waiting for her just inside the dining hall. "I forgot to mention yesterday- to save power, we use a generator during the night," he said, patting her shoulder. "I'll lock the door."

"Wait, but I'm supposed to-"

He was already out the door. "Lock up..." Liza raised a brow but decided to ignore the...shadiness of the entire thing.

Sv'h srwrmt hlnvgsrmt.

She settled into the office easily, picking up the tablet that was apparently used to monitor the cameras. Liza hummed an absent tune as she flipped through the cameras. Ten, then twenty minutes passed before the clock showed 12:00. The lights shuddered as the restaurant switched from city to generator power.

The phone rang.

Liza let out a yelp, nearly falling over in the chair. She righted herself and grabbed the phone. Had Mr. Calworth forgotten to tell her something? "Hello-?"

"Hello, hello! Hey, I wanted to record a message for you, to help you out on your first night." Oh. It was a recording. Liza set the phone back into place. "Um, I actually worked in that office, finishing my last week. I know this job can get...overwhelming."

Liza scoffed. "It's watching a bunch of animatronics to make sure they don't get stolen." She returned to leaning back, flipping through the cameras. "How overwhelming can it get?" She stopped on the dining hall's cam, noticing something

"There's this company policy thing I have to read, so here we go. Welcome to Ted Bear's Pizza, a magical place for kids and smiles, blah, blah...Ted Bear's Pizza is not responsible for damage to property or person..." All the animatronics were staring at the camera. "Upon discovery that death has occurred, a missing person report will be filed in 90 days, or until the cleanup and bleaching is done." Liza stiffened, staring at the phone in horror.

What the fuck.

"Now, I know it sounds bad. But really, there's nothing to worry about! The animatronics here do get a bit...quirky at night, but do I blame them? No! If I had to sing the same stupid songs for years without a bath, I'll be a bit irritable too! So, remember, these characters hold a special place in everyone's hearts and we need to treat them with respect!"

He continued on about some free-roam mode and servos locking up, Liza still stuck on the 'death has occurred' part. "Uh, they used to be able to free-roam during the day, but then the Bite of '85 happened. Then they got taken off free-roam a few years later, but a kid got too close a few years ago and the Bite of '05 happened."

What the fuck, what the fuck, what the fuck, what the fuck...

"The first kid died. I think the second kid was in a coma for a bit, but she survived after they stitched her brain back together. Amazing, right? Now, concerning your safety, the only real threat to you as a nightguard is that the animatronics will confuse you for an endoskeleton without a suit. That's against the rules here, so they'll try to stuff you into a suit. That wouldn't be so bad, except they're filled with machinery and stuff. Which can cause a little bit of discomfort...and death."

QUEMIERDAQUEMIERDAQUEMIERDAQUEMIERDA...

"Yeah, the only part of you that would likely see the light of day again is your eyeballs." There was a sardonic chuckle. Liza started to hit her head against the desk, resisting the urge to wail. "Yeah, they don't tell you this when they hire you. But, hey! The first day should be a breeze! Remember to conserve power, check your cameras, and use the doors only if absolutely necessary. Talk to you tomorrow!"

The recording ended. Liza peeled her face off the desk to grab the tablet. She paled at not only seeing that the power was already at 98% but the dog...Rex, that's right, was off-stage. He was standing in the center of the dining hall, staring at the camera with a cross look. She gulped, glancing at the remote.

She could figure out what the military-grade doors were for now.

-_-

There was a heartbeat.

It could feel it, all the way in the dark. It hummed absently. It was too hard to choose during the day, it distracted from the adults by the lovely, glowing heartbeats of the children. It was forced to choose during the night, with only one type to choose from.

Talk about slim pickings.

It reached out for the heartbeat-

Oh.

Cruel irony. Too cruel for this world, but not cruel enough for this family tragedy. It could feel its Other shift, recognizing the familial bond. It pulled away to soothe before returning to the feeling of the heart.

The choice was cruel. But it didn't have a choice.

It had been too choosy in the past. He had been too choosy.

Cruel irony could wait.

-_-

When Liza decided to try the east hall light and saw Rex's leering face, she let out a scream and jabbed the button for the east door hard enough that she was sure for a minute that she had broken her finger.

She sat there panting for a minute. Tio Rafael was right, I need to cut down on la cafeína. She glanced at the tablet to see the battery had dropped from 96 to 85- crap, she still had the door down. Liza peered through the door’s window. The lack of Rex meant she could probably open the door.

She glanced through the cameras to see the trio's guitarist, Kitty-Cat, was gone. The camera in the kitchen lacked a picture, but it did have audio. She could hear the crash of pots and pans. When she glanced at the Parts and Services room, Rex was glaring at the camera.

"Buen perro. Quédate ahí."

She stopped at Treasure Cavern's camera, noticing that the curtain was twitching. Eventually, it moved to reveal Captain Bun. Liza raised a brow at the bunny's position. The animatronic looked tense like it was preparing to-

No.

"No, no, no," Liza hissed, trying to figure out which hallway. Her tablet choked for death. "No te atrevas!"

Bun took off. The woman froze, realizing she could hear the bunny coming. She sprang for the remote, slamming the west door button. It slammed down right when Bun was at the doorway. Liza let out a sigh of relief, glancing at her watch. It was 2. Huh, time ran fast when you were fighting for your life-

Bang.

BANG!

BANGBANGBANGBANGBANG-

It sounded like Bun was trying to break down the door. Liza took a chance and checked the east light. She was forced to push the east door button when she saw Kitty. It felt like an eternity before the banging stopped and she heard Bun run away. It took a little longer before she heard Kitty limp away.

74%.

This tablet was a traitor, she decided. A horrible traitor. Un horrible, horrible pedazo de mierda bastardo. She was calling Tio Rafael after her shift to demand what he and Tio Vincent were thinking when they were making these things. Then she was quitting.

The hours slipped away as she fended off Rex, Kitty, and Bun. Strangely, Ted himself hadn't come by yet, even though he was clearly off-stage. As the hours passed, it seemed like they were getting discouraged. It was 5:50 AM when the pedazo de mierda that called itself a tablet was at 5%. She whimpered as it fell to 4, 3, 2...

It was exactly 5:59 when it hit 0.

The doors slid up. The lights died. The horrible, horrible pedazo de mierda bastardo went dark. Liza sat frozen in the dark, dead silence. She covered her mouth when she heard heavy footsteps, trying to stifle her breathing. A music box was playing- sickeningly, she recognized the tune. It was a lullaby that her family sang to each other. She resisted a hysterical giggle.

Voy a morir a manos de la creación de mis tíos, escuchando a mi canción de cuna familiar.

Before she could think of some type of escape plan, the footsteps stopped at the door. She looked up to meet Ted Bear's brown eyes. She could recognize Tío Vincent's eyes in the brown glass orbs. This time, she didn't resist the hysterical giggle.

A hand reached for her...

The lights flipped on. Liza let out a squawk, closing her eyes. When she peeled them open, Ted had stepped back. Was it just her or did he look frustrated? She didn't have time to take in his expression, because he turned and walked away. She grabbed the tablet and let out a cheer when it came to life. She watched through the cameras as the animatronics returned to the stage.

It took a good ten minutes before Liza could manage her way out. She was forced to pass through the dining hall, stopping to consider the bots on-stage.

There, they looked perfectly innocent. Nope, nothing weird here at all, no siree.

They could buy steel bombproof doors, but not a technician to reprogram these things?

Tomorrow, she was going to call Mr. Calworth and try and quit. She shot out of the restaurant with that thought, heading to her car. She tried to start it. One look at the dash and the arrow pointing to the E and Liza let her head thunk against the wheel.

One more day couldn't hurt. She could try and call the recording guy back.

One more day, and then she'll quit.

#heartbeat series #heartbeat #wip #writblr #writeblr

[holographic-chogi]

Protector pt.11/?

Author: holographic-chogi

Pairing: fem!reader x skz

Warnings: animal death (hunting), swearing, and a gun

A/N: hi guys!! So I’m gonna uh...skip the usual late apology. I’m gonna stop announcing that I’m gonna post UNLESS I already have the chapter written. Also for anyone who doesn’t already know, Jiho is Zico (formally of block b). I decided to cut this chapter short because it ushers in some kinda big events. Also, we are actually slowly approaching where I originally intended protector to end...but I kinda enjoy writing for this series. I might do a sequel? It depends on if you guys would want that. Anyway, enjoy!

Summary: a virus has wiped out most of humanity, and society has collapsed. People survive in groups where they live in constant fear and a struggle to survive. Women were the primary victim of the virus, leaving few behind. You are one of the few, kept in secret since the beginning. However, you’ve just been caught.

Masterlist

The following morning, you woke up first. Jisung was curled around you just as tightly as he was before, and you couldn’t help but admire how peaceful he looked, in contrast to the distress from last night. Gently, you tried to move from his grasp, only for him to simply squeeze you tighter, nuzzling into your neck as he slept.

“Jisung…wake up.”

His eyes fluttered open, sleepily at first before widening, staring up at you. His voice was a tad raspy from sleep. “G-good morning…”

You smiled, “Can you let go of me please? I wanna go get something to eat.”

Looking at his arm, seemingly only just realizing that he was holding you, he scrambled to pull way. “Y-yeah! Sorry!”

You chuckled, climbing out of bed and making your way to the door with Jisung following behind. “Can you smell Felix’s cooking from here?”

The lack of response bothered you, so you turned around to face him. He stared at the ground in front of him, tugging at his fingers anxiously.

“Jisung, are you okay?”

He mumbled back quietly, barely audible. “I’m sorry about last night.”

You took a step closer, taking his hands in yours. “Jisung, don’t be sorry about that, you were hurting and I wouldn’t have wanted you to feel like that alone. Always talk to me.”

His voice became even quieter as he looked up at you, his eyes searching you for an answer. “Y/N, why are you so good?”

“So good?”

“You’re just…amazing. I don’t know what we did to deserve you.”

You chuckled, “You guys raided the cellblock. That’s what you did to deserve me.”

A small smile began to form on the young man’s face. “Oh…right.”

“But I mean it Jisung. I care about you so much, and I really don’t want you to hurt alone. You can always come see me.”

His smile grew, along with a slight blush on his cheeks, “Thank y-“

He was interrupted by a knock on your door, startling the both of you. Hyunjin’s voice sounded from the other side, “Y/N! Rise and shine! You gotta get something to eat before we head out!”

Jisung cocked an eyebrow, speaking quietly so only you could hear. “Head out?”

Crap. You forgot you had plans to hunt with Hyunjin. You weren’t sure if it was a great idea to leave Jisung on his own today. “Hold on Hyunjin, I’ll be right out!”

Jisung just stepped past you, opening the door to meet a confused Hyunjin, “What do you mean, head out?”

Hyunjin’s eyes narrowed, “What are you doing in here, Jisung?”

“None of your business. Where are you guys going?”

“Is it seriously not enough for you to be on her like flies on shit all day long? You have to be in here with her at night now too?”

You quickly stepped forward in between the two. “Guys, stop. Jisung, I’m going out to hunt with Hyunjin today, we kinda planned this awhile ago. And Hyunjin, it’s none of your business as to why Jisung was in here, but it really isn’t what you think.”

Hyunjin looked to Jisung angrily, but his gaze softened as he looked at you. “You’re right, Y/N. I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to be invasive.”

Jisung spoke abruptly, “I’m going with you guys.”

Hyunjin rolled his eyes, “No, you’re not. We need to be quiet and going with a bunch of people is gonna be too loud. I can keep an eye on her, or whatever it is you do, for a few hours.”

You turned to Jisung, “He’s right. Two people are manageable but three are noisy. I’ll be fine, and I’ll be back soon, I promise.”

He looked defeated. “Chan okayed this?”

Hyunjin nodded, “I spoke to him this morning, everything’s cleared and ready to go.”

Jisung looked torn, he wanted to argue, but after the sweatshirt incident yesterday he knew he didn’t have the right. “Okay. I’ll see you later. Be safe.”

You gave him a quick hug, and pulled away to see him pouting. “See you later, Grumpy. I’ll catch something special for ya.”

Growing impatient, Hyunjin pulled on your shirt, “Let’s go! Breakfast, remember?”

You nodded and sprinted with him down the hall. Once out of earshot of Jisung, you asked, “How did you get Chan to agree?”

“I didn’t, so we need to head out fast. “

After the two of you expertly wove your way out of from the back entrance of the fence, you felt a cold hair hit your cheeks. You could tell the first snow would come any day now.

In one hand, you held the birch recurve from Hyunjin’s collection, a bow that you’d had an eye on for quite some time. When you had mentioned it earlier that week, Hyunjin insisted you keep it, claiming he had plenty and really “wouldn’t mind parting with it.”

The forest itself, starting only about 100 meters from the back entrance, was dense and unkempt. The once clear paths have been overgrown and swept over from disuse, making it difficult for most people to pass through. Luckily, Hyunjin and you weren’t most people.

Something you had noticed from the very beginning, is that due to the lack of human activity, the animals had become slower, and less responsive. Almost making the job too easy. Besides this, you weren’t only looking for meat. You had your eyes peeled for any useful plants or produce to bring back. Felix was an excellent farmer but there was no way he could sustain crops in the winter. Lucky for them, they have you.

After a bit of searching, Hyunjin and you had come across a small jackpot. A cluster of about six pheasants were fluttering amongst themselves on the forest floor, probably in search of food for the cold months ahead. Nowadays, you found yourself able to relate much more to what you hunted. You and your prey were only just trying to survive.

A hushed, but urgent voice sounded from beside you, “Are you ready? How many do you think you can get before they get past the trees?”

You squinted, “Three for sure, maybe four. Can you handle the rest?”

He scoffed, “Can I handle the rest? Of course I can, it’s like two or three shots.” He pulled his first arrow back, bending the beautiful red oak wood of his longbow, “Don’t go underestimating me, Y/N.”

You smirked, “Then show me what you can do.” You paused, “Now!”

Arrows flew and a flurry of feathers seemed to go in all directions. Ultimately, you and Hyunjin had each hit three.

You ran up to the fallen birds and began to fill up one of the burlap sacks you’d brought with you; Hyunjin trailing behind and helping you bag them up.

When he reached for one of the pheasants in front of you, you had noticed some kind of bizarre markings on his hand. You didn’t quite think before absentmindedly grabbing said hand and inspecting it. He tried to pull it away, but not before you saw what they were.

The markings were little white scars in the shape of crescents, across the top of his hand. Four to be exact. Worry laced your tone, “Hyunjin, what are those?”

He ran his thumb gently across the surface of the scars, staring at them with what almost seemed like a distant fondness, “Do you remember that day the dog got in, and we had to stitch you up?”

Then it hit you. You remembered how hard you had grasped that hand as Minho fixed your wound. Those little crescents were the marks your nails had left in his skin. “Hyunjin...I’m so sorry. I had no idea I squeezed that hard.”

He shrugged, “I don’t mind at all. It hurt when it happened but you were going through worse. Not to mention, I’m a pretty tough cookie.”

“But the scars…”

“What about it? I actually kind of like them. They look like four little moons on my hand.” His gaze saddened, “Not to mention, if you ever go away, they’ll be a little something I can remember you by.”

There it is again. You wish they would stop reminding you of your predicament. “When I leave. Right. Because that’s all you people seem to want to talk about.”

His eyes snapped up, “What do you mean?”

“I mean both you, Minho and Jisung have brought up to me in the last twenty-four hours. The whole situation is shit.”

He looked at you knowingly, “Right. Because if he doesn’t come get you, you’ve been abandoned. But if he does come get you, you have to leave. And I know you don’t want to.”

Of course Hyunjin gets it. You’re glad at least someone knows you want to stay. Hyunjin always seems to understand you when others fail to do so. “I wish Jiho could come back just so I’d know that our friendship wasn’t for nothing. We’ve been through too much together for him to leave me behind so easily. There has to be something else to this.”

He looked at you knowingly, “I hope he comes back for you too. I want you to stay, just like everyone else here, but you don’t deserve to be abandoned. For all we know, there is something else to it.”

You nodded and wiped away a tear with the sleeve of your coat, tying the bag as you continued to speak, “I hope he comes back, but I’m not sure yet if I’m leaving. It’s a lot to decide, and he’s not exactly here yet.”

Hyunjin’s nodded in response, his mouth opening to speak before he suddenly froze, his eyes widening in fear. He spoke very quietly in a dangerously serious voice. “Y/N, get behind me.”

You heart sank, terrified of whatever it was behind you that he was staring at. You moved towards him, and he quickly grabbed your arm, pulling you behind him.

And then you saw him.

He stood beneath a pine tree, gun in hand, pointed directly at Hyunjin. His greasy, unkempt black hair stuck to the sweat on his oh-so-familiar face, despite the cold weather. Despite his short stature, you knew this man was a serious threat.

Hyunjin’s voice was low and full of danger, despite the gun aimed at his chest. “Who the fuck are you?”

His name was Taeil. You remembered that name, along with the feeling of his fist on your jaw. The searing pain that spread across your face from the blow felt like yesterday. He was all too eager to lay on the punishment back at the cell block.

He was one of them.

His response was ragged, “Doesn’t matter who I am. Why is she with you?”

“Don’t fucking look at her.”

“Answer the question.”

Hyunjin tucked you further behind him, “There are eight more men very close by. You’re outnumbered. If you hurt her you best believe you’re a fucking dead man.”

Taeil stared daggers into him. “I’m not going to kill her. Jiho would want me to bring her back.”

Your blood went cold. So Jiho was still with them after all. Hyunjin tensed in front of you, seemingly not knowing what to do. You answered instead. “I’m not going anywhere with you, Taeil. If Jiho wants to see me,” You inhaled, gathering all of your courage, “He can come fucking find me himself.”

Taeil’s eyes narrowed, “Mouthy nowadays, aren’t we? We both know that isn’t how you speak to me.”

Hyunjin scoffed, “Fuck off pipsqueak. She’ll talk to you however she wants.” He looks back at you, before looking back at him, “Tell Jiho that if he wants to talk to her, he’ll have to come to the farmhouse.”

You exhale, unsuccessfully hiding the shakiness of your breath. Hyunjin reached behind himself and held your hand, eyes still focused on the man in front of him. “Leave, Taeil. Before I call in backup.”

Taeil took one last look at you, seething in hatred, before turning to leave, disappearing as quickly as he appeared.

Hyunjin turned to you, gaze full of worry, before pulling you into a tight hug, “Are you okay?”

Your voice came out in a whisper, “I don’t know.”

“Who was that guy?”

“Someone I never want to see again.”

“Do you think he’s going to tell Jiho?”

“Yes. And I don’t know what’ll happen when he does.”

#skz #stray kids #stray kids fanfiction #stray kids reactions #stray kids scenarios #protector #stray kids apocalypse au

[solei28]

Coffee, Pie, You- Chapter 1

Here is a new fic I’m working on. I’d love to know what you guys think. 

James was walking down Clarkson Avenue in Brooklyn. He had just left Kings County Hospital after stopping an armed robbery in progress. It had happened a few blocks away and he made it there just in the nick of the time. The man being mugged had been hit in the face with the gun robber had before aiming it at the man’s head.

For once, James thanked his nightmares. Had it not been for them tonight, that poor man would’ve been killed for a few measly bucks and a watch.

He had started going for long walks at night knowing he wouldn’t be able to fall back to sleep. Tonight, his walk saved a life.

After beating the crap out of the thug and calling the cops, he took the ride in the ambulance with the victim. This way he could make sure the man was going to be alright and let the officer who went with them know what had happened. Both the man and the office were surprised when they found out who he was.

“Thank you so much, Sergeant,” the man said tears in his eyes. “How can I ever repay you?”

James shook his head quickly. “There’s no need to. It’s what my job.”

“Sergeant Barnes, it’s an honor to meet you, sir,” the officer said shaking his hand. “I’m Riley Fitzgerald.”

“Nice to meet you, too,” James said. “Do you need anything else from?” He asked as they pulled into the emergency room parking lot.

Riley shook his head. “No, Sir. That’s all.”

James gave a curt nod. “Well, have a good night.” He looked at the man. “You’re in good hands from here. Please, be careful in the future.” And, with that, he jumped out of the ambulance and continued his walk.

He was starting to feel hungry and wondered if there was anything open this late. To his delight and surprise, he found a food kiosk. The sign above it read Curious Delights. As he approached, the aroma of coffee and bacon made his mouth water. Then, he saw the woman behind the counter, back to him, flipping a pancake over.

He watched for a moment as she swayed her hips to a song playing from her phone. She grabbed an aluminum plate and began to stack the food from the grill in it. She was humming as she turned around and finally saw him standing there.

“Oh, hello,” you say sweetly, hiding the fact that the man startled you a bit. “What can I get for ya?”

James smiled shyly. You were so pretty and had the softest eyes he’s ever seen. “Um, a coffee, cream, and 2 sugars, please.”  

“Small, medium or large?” You ask putting the plate to the side.

James thought about it for a moment. “Medium is fine, thanks.”

“Sure thing.” You turn and grab a medium cup to his coffee. You look at him over your shoulder. “Would you like something to go with it? Maybe, a hot sandwich or a slice of pie?”

James bit his lip. He was hungry, but he didn’t know what he was in the mood for. Apparently, you read it on his face.

You handed him his coffee and then a menu. “Here, take a look. While you pick something out, I’m going to have breakfast.” You grabbed the plate of food.

James chuckled. “You know what? I’ll have what you’re having if it’s not too much trouble?”

“It would never be too much trouble, Sergeant,” you said with a wink. You laughed at the expression on his face. He looked like an adorable confused puppy. “Yes, I know who you are. Kinda hard not to. You are an Avenger.”

Smiling sheepishly, he said, “Yeah, I guess you’re right.” He took a sip of his coffee and his eyebrows went up. “I think this is the best coffee I’ve ever had.”

Your cheeks went pink at the genuine compliment. “Thank you. I’m glad you like it.” You quickly turned to the grill and began making his food.

James looked around at the empty streets and then at his watch. It was 1:37 am. “So, are you always out here so late?”

“Only 4 nights a week. I do the graveyard shift. I’m here from 11 at night to 9 in the morning,” you tell him grabbing 2 eggs. “How do you want your eggs?”

“However you like them,” James answered and took another sip of coffee. It really was delicious. He couldn’t wait to try your food. “You’ve got guts being out here all night alone. These streets are dangerous.”

“Over easy, it is, then.” You turn and smile at him. His heart flutters. “Ah, it’s not so bad. Since I’m so close to Kings County, my main customers are hospital staff, EMTs and officers. They keep me safe and I keep them fueled.”

James huffed out a laugh at that. “Sounds like a good deal. Which nights are you here?”

You flipped the pancakes and reached for another aluminum plate. “Thursday to Sunday. Business seems to boom on the weekends.” You turned with the plate in hand and showed him what you made.

His eyes widened. There were 4 pancakes stacked up next to 2 eggs and a mountain of bacon. “This looks great, doll.”

You were caught off guard by the pet name. “Oh,” you said abruptly snapping his eyes to you. “I almost forgot the best part!” You reached to your right and took the lid off a small stockpot with a ladle in it. You mixed the contents a bit and then poured it over the pancakes. “There. Now, it's ready.”

James looked took the plate from you and looked at what you put on the pancakes. There were strawberries and bananas in some kind of sauce on them. He looked up at you curiously and saw you adding some to your own plate.

You frowned for a moment at his wary expression. “It’s just strawberries and bananas cooked in some honey. It’s really good. Try it,” you urged handing him a plastic pack with a fork, knife, spoon, and napkin in it.

You watched him eagerly as he took it and opened it, taking out the fork. While he cut into the pancakes, you had a chance to admire just how handsome he was. His blue-grey eyes were intense and focused, but you could see softness in them. His jaw was strong and chiseled. Your mind wandered to how it must feel to kiss those full lips.

James had to bite back the moan that wanted to burst out of him when he tried it. He couldn’t believe how good it was. The pancakes were fluffy, the fruit concoction was the perfect compliment for them. “Wow, this is amazing.”

“Really?” Your eyes lit up with pride. You always loved when people enjoyed your food. Especially, when it was something that wasn’t traditional. It was the perfect motivation to keep at it.

“Yes! I would never have thought to pair pancakes with this. Way better than boring old maple syrup.”

That made you throw your head back and laugh. James couldn’t help the smile that spread across his face. You had the cutest laugh. He found himself wanting to be the reason for you to laugh like that all the time. You were breathtakingly beautiful.

“Well, I’m glad I was able to introduce to something new,” you said after catching your breath. “Um, would you like to sit down? There’s a seat on the side here.” You pointed to the left side of the kiosk.

“Oh, thanks. Can I put this here for a moment?” he asked gesturing to the plate of food and then the counter. When you nodded, he put the plate down and retrieved the folding chair. He set it up far enough to side that he wasn’t in the way of any customers, but could still see you.

You both ate in comfortable silence. The night was slow, and you were able to finish your meal without any interruptions. You felt at ease with him there. Almost, as if he belonged there.

James got up when he was finished. “Hey, do you have garbage back there?”

“Yeah,” you took the plate from him and disposed of it.

“So, how much do I owe you…” James realized that he didn’t know your name.

You smiled at him and stretched out your hand. “I’m Y/N, Buchanan.”

His jaw dropped when you called him by his middle name. When was the last time anyone ever called him that? He was so stunned by it, he didn’t notice how long he was shaking your hand.

You giggled and bit your lip. He was adorable when he was shocked. “Is it alright if I call you that?”

James was pulled back to reality and finally let go of your hand. He felt the heat on his face and looked down with a bashful smile. “Yeah, doll. You can call me that.”

You gave him a toothy smile. “Great. And, that will be 6.75.”

James looked at you bewildered. “That’s it? A meal like this runs me 13 bucks at the local diner and it ain’t half as good.”

You were in stitches when he said that. “That is another reason for my popularity with my usual customers. I offer better prices and better food.”

James shook his head with a crooked smile. He reached into his pocket and handed you a 10. “Keep the change, Y/N.”

“Thank you, Buchanan, but you don’t have to do that,” you told him sincerely. “I don't do this for the money. It’s a way to give back to the men and women who dedicate their lives to save others.”

So, you’re beautiful, an amazing cook and you have a heart of gold. James could see himself falling for you hard. “You’re really something, Y/N. You know that?”

You cursed yourself for blushing as hard as you did. You couldn’t look him the eye when he said that. God, how you wanted to kiss him at this very moment. He chuckled at how red you had become.

“Where are you from?” He asked trying to ease your embarrassment a bit.  

You looked up at him after regaining some courage. “I’m from the Bronx, but I’ve been living here in Brooklyn for a few years now.”

James nodded his head and smiled. He heard voices coming down the block. There were a handful of people in scrubs walking towards the kiosk. Looking back at you he smiled. “Looks like you have some customers.”

“Looks that way, indeed,” You smiled handing him his change. You were ready for him to insist you keep the change, but was pleasantly surprised when he didn’t. “You like pie?”

“Um, yeah,” James said raising an eyebrow.

You ducked down and grabbed a slice of pie in a plastic container from the glass display under the counter. You plopped it down on the counter, then turned and began making a cup of coffee. You put them into a brown paper bag and handed them to him.

“But, I-” you didn’t let him finish.

“Its a thank you for keeping me company. It gets a little lonely out here sometimes.” You looked at him with hopeful eyes and he took the bag from you.

“Thank you, Y/N. You were great company to be with,” James said. “The food wasn’t bad, either.” He winked at you and preened when you blushed again.

The Scrubs were almost upon you both. “Hopefully, good enough to visit again?”

Now, it was his turn to blush. “I will definitely be back again soon, Y/N. Have a good night.”

“You too, Buchanan. I’ll see you soon.”

#fanfiction #bucky x reader #writing #creativewriting #creative #soleizcreations #writer #Avengers #marvel #ao3 fanfic

[lamptracker]

FIC: Someone Else’s Star (Peter Parker/Reader)

Wait a minute, what’s this? An actual fic??

Yep. I know it’s been a bit. And I know I have a million other irons in the fire. BUT, okay, for some weird reason I’ve been on a big late-90s music kick lately. That includes country, oddly. (I don’t normally go for country, which is why it’s odd.) Spotify recommended the song I loosely based this fic on and I had to write it.

Anyway

FIC: Someone Else’s Star

Pairing: Peter Parker/Female Reader (not at first)

Summary: All the reader wants is to be in love, so she wishes on stars every night. But is she wishing on someone else’s star?

Author’s note: Inspired by the song “Someone Else’s Star” by Bryan White.

Edited because my dumb ass forgot to tag people:

@lemirabitur   @purelyfictionallife   @ocaptainmycaptainrogers   @damnhisfaceisliketheskyatnight   @stephie-senpai   @unicorn-princess-1999

**

I guess I must be wishing on someone else’s star

Seems like someone else keeps getting what I’m wishing for

Why can’t I be as lucky as those other people are?

Oh, I guess I must be wishing on someone else’s star

Every night, when the sky was finally pitch-dark, you performed your nightly routine:

You went to your window, located the first star, and wished on it.

You wished for the same thing, every single time: You wanted desperately to fall in love. That wasn’t so much to ask, now was it?

But every time you did, the next time you went to school there was a new couple.

Once, Betty Brandt revealed she was dating a senior boy. Flash and Amber, who’d been flirting for weeks, finally made it official another time. Cindy and Abraham started dating a few weeks ago.

You were starting to think that, just maybe, you were accidentally wishing on someone else’s star.

Last night all but confirmed that for you.

You stared out the window, found the first star, and repeated your nightly wish:

“Star light, star bright. First star I see tonight. I wish I may, I wish I might have the wish I wish tonight. I wish someone were in love with me.”

The next day, you went about your daily routine for the most part. You walked down to the corner to wait for your friend Peter, then the two of you would walk to the subway together. You’d ride to school, making idle chit-chat about whatever projects you were working on (and, when you were out of earshot of other people, he’d tell you about his patrol the night before).

Of course you knew Peter was Spider-Man. He’d told you quite by accident one night a few months ago - he’d been injured in a fight near your apartment and needed someone to bandage it. He went to your apartment, completely freaking you out when he knocked on the window. He thought he could get away with not removing his mask but his voice sounded too familiar to you. So, after you applied Neosporin and a bandage to the cut on his arm, you reached up and pulled off the mask. You freaked out, he freaked out (because you were freaking out; he’s a sympathetic freak-out-er). He swore you to secrecy and you obliged because, who was going to believe you anyway?

Once you got to school you would wave, go to your lockers, and then attend your morning classes; you would reconvene at lunch and sit with Michelle and Ned and some other members of the Decathlon.

This day, though, a strange sight greeted you in the lunchroom:

Ned and Michelle were sitting next to each other. Not so weird.

What was weird was that Ned had his arm around Michelle’s shoulders; she was resting her head on his shoulder as they talked. Ned turned his head and gently kissed her forehead; she smiled a small, shy smile.

“Oh, come on!” Peter, who’d just walked up behind you, exclaimed. “What the crap, Ned?? How long has this been going on? Wait… is this why you couldn’t come over and watch The Last Jedi with me last night?”

“Get over it, Parker.” Michelle tossed a napkin at him. “We’ve only been dating since yesterday. He walked me home from the bus stop, and then… we kissed.”

“Yeah,” Ned added, smiling widely. “I don’t really know what came over me then. But it just… it felt right. Like… help me out here, MJ, like…”

“The missing piece.”

“Yeah! The missing piece of the Lego Death Star.”

Michelle shook her head. “I was going to say a puzzle, but we can nerd out if you want to. Anyway, we went for a walk and talked it out, and… we’re giving it a shot.”

Your jaw dropped as you fumbled with your carton of milk; Peter gave them an odd look.

“Well, um… congratulations? I guess,” you said as you finally got the milk open.

That night, you sighed as you looked out your window, searching for that first star. Propping your elbow onto your windowsill, you rested your chin in your hand as you finally spotted it.

“Not this is going to do me any good,” you muttered. “I mean, Ned and Michelle? Didn’t see that one coming. Anyway,” you cleared your throat, “star light, star bright. First star I see tonight. I wish I may, I wish I might have the wish I wish tonight.” You sighed deeply again. “I wish someone would fall in love with me. I wish I could have a boyfriend. I wish… I wish I had what Ned and Michelle have. I wish I was actually wishing on the right star this time.”

You started to turn away from the window, when suddenly a red-and-black gloved hand reached up from under it and softly knocked. You jumped in surprise for a moment - what the hell? I live on the seventh floor! - before you realized it was Peter.

“Parker!” you hissed as you opened the window to let him through. “What are you doing, you scared the crap out of me!”

“S-sorry,” he muttered as he crawled through the window, collapsing onto your bed. “I… I need you to patch me up again.”

You shook your head as you pulled the first-aid kit from under your bed. “You need to either be more careful or ask Mr. Stark to put extra armor into that suit,” you said. “This is the third time in the last week. Now, where is it?”

“My arm. Guy came after me with a knife, I wasn’t fast enough. He just nicked me but still.” He pulled his mask off and pressed the release button on his suit; he pulled the left arm down. Sure enough, there was a three-inch-long gash on his bicep.

You shook your head as you got to work patching him up, rubbing the wound with peroxide (he hissed in pain when you did this) and examining it closely.

“Hm. You don’t need stitches, that’s good.” You carefully spread some Neosporin on the cut, covering it with some gauze. “Because, have you seen me try to sew something by hand? Not pretty.”

“You’re pretty,” Peter muttered, barely audibly, as you taped the gauze onto his arm.

You cocked your head to one side as you looked at him. “Hmmm?”

Peter’s head shot up; panic filled his eyes. “What? Huh? Nothing…”

Raising an eyebrow at him, you smoothed the last of the tape over his arm. “You sure, Pete?”

“I’m sure,” said Peter, an air of false confidence in his voice as he pressed the button that tightened his suit.

You shrugged. “Huh. Okay.” You started to clean up your supplies; as you were shoving the kit back under your bed, Peter suddenly grasped your wrist.

“Okay, I’m not sure.”

“What? Peter, what are you talking about?”

Peter’s tongue darted out as he licked his lips slightly. “Listen,” he started. “This isn’t easy for me, so just be nice, okay? Um… I like you.”

“Well, we’re friends,” you said, oblivious to what he was actually trying to say. “So… you must obviously like me, I mean…”

Peter shook his head, auburn curls bouncing slightly. “Yeah, no, I know that. But… I like you. Like… like you, like you.”

A confused look crossed your face as you stared at him; his grip on your wrist tightening slightly. “Okay,” you said slowly. “I mean, I’m not stupid. But I just don’t get it. I mean...It’s as clear as mud, Peter, could you explain it to me?”

“I am trying to,” Peter huffed in annoyance, “but the words, they’re not… I can’t… I’m just going to have to show you, I guess.”

You started to ask him what exactly he was trying to say, or show you, when he cupped your cheek in his free hand and leaned over, pressing a soft kiss to your lips.

About a million thoughts started whirling through your brain the second your lips met his.

Wait a minute. THAT’s what he meant?

He likes me as more than a friend?

Why me? Why am I so special?

He is awfully cute. And sweet.

Wait… you’re telling me I actually wished on the right star this time?

You slid an arm around his waist, pulling him closer to you, as you parted your lips slightly to allow his tongue access.

“See what I’m trying to say?” Peter said after you finally pulled apart.

You giggled, resting your forehead on his. “I think I get it now, yeah.”

He smiled at you, chocolate brown eyes twinkling. “So… am I supposed to officially ask you, or do I just assume you’re my girlfriend now, or… I mean, I’ve never done this before.”

“Peter,” you said softly. “I would love to be your girlfriend.”

“Okay.” Peter let out a long sigh of relief. “That’s-that’s good. Um… can we kiss again?”

“We can kiss as many times as you want.”

“Can we just do it once, but keep it going forever?”

You smiled shyly at him. “As much as I would love that, I would think at some point we’d need air, right? Unless you have gills I don’t know about.”

“No, Mr. Stark hasn’t perfected the technology yet.”

You laughed softly; Peter’s eyes crinkled slightly at the edges as he smiled at you.

“Promise me something?” he asked quietly. “Can you promise that you’ll never stop smiling? You just… you’re so beautiful when you smile. Not that you’re not all the time, but when you smile you’re really pretty, and…”

Shaking your head, you cut off his rambling with another kiss; this one is more firm than the tentative first one. “I’ll do my best, Peter,” you replied.

“Okay. And I will promise to do my best to be the best boyfriend ever.”

You kissed his cheek as you ran a hand through his soft curls. “You already are, Pete.”

Peter smiled again at you. “Okay. Um… I should go, though. I’ll see you in the morning?”

“Sounds great, Pete. Text me when you get home, okay?”

Peter shot you a playfully confused look.

“What, I’m not allowed to worry about my boyfriend?” you asked teasingly.

Peter chuckled. “I guess I should be worried if you stop worrying about me.” He stood up and took your hand, helping you to a standing position. “I will text you when I get home. Bye.”

“Bye, Peter.” You leaned forward, kissing him softly; he rubbed a gloved thumb across your cheekbone. Then he shot you a smile as he pulled his mask back on and disappeared out your still-open window.

You watched as he swung from rooftop to rooftop; swinging until you could no longer see him. Sighing happily, you searched the night sky for that first star again. Some of its friends had come to join it, but you wanted to find that one.

When you were confident you’d spotted it, you pointed up at it.

“Thank you,” you said, “for granting me my wish.” Still smiling, you closed your window, shut off your light, and tucked yourself into bed.

Just as you were settling down, you got a text:

Peter: ok i’m home :) see you in the morning

You typed back a quick response - see you then. Sweet dreams Pete - and fell asleep, head full of thoughts of your boyfriend. You couldn’t wait to see where the star you’d wished on would take you.

You were glad you finally found your star.

#peter parker #peter parker fanfiction #peter parker imagine #tom holland #tom holland fanfiction #tom holland imagine #no really why so much 90s country SPOTIFY geez

[thatlesbiannudistcult-stories]

Finding Goddess (Chapter Nine)

Monday arrived, and Carol had a feeling it was going to be a bad day.

She had no idea why. It seemed like any other Monday she had gone through. Country music would blare obnoxiously into her ear, and she would silence it with a forceful slam on the clock radio from whence it came. Then she'd get up, take a shower, fix herself a cup of coffee, brush her teeth, check her phone for messages, catch up on the news online, the usual. So far, so good, everything seemed pretty typical. So why couldn't she shake the feeling that something horrible was going to come crashing down on her?

Perhaps I forgot something? she mused, scratching her chin as she stared out the window lost in thought. It certainly seemed like something was missing...a light bulb winked on in her head. Oh, right, the garbage! That has to be it. Silly me!

Monday was the garbage day, both metaphorically and literally, and Carol had neglected to take hers outside the previous night. She had been too...absorbed in her book. Fortunately, there were plenty of other trash bags lying on the curb, which meant the truck hadn't arrived to pick them up yet. It wasn't too late. After tying her bag up, Carol hopped into her flip-flops and rushed out the door with the trash in hand. The warm summer air that hit her body was a strong contrast to the cooler conditioned air in her home, but she didn't have the time to marvel or groan at the sensation as she rushed to the street to deposit her trash.

A car drove by. In the corner of her vision, Carol noticed it abruptly slowed down and thought the driver did a double-take in her direction. In normal circumstances, she would have just ignored it and moved on, but a sudden honking of his horn forced her to look up just in time to watch him speed away. The mother blinked in confusion.

What was that about?

Across the street, another person rushed outside carrying a trash bag of his own, clearly having the same issue and idea that Carol had. However, upon glancing up in her direction, he stopped dead in his tracks and looked directly at her, his jaw falling to the ground. Confused, Carol just waved at him before turning away, her mind a big question mark.

Wonder what his problem was? Was there something on my face?

Idly, Carol pawed at her face to wipe off whatever had supposedly shocked her neighbor so much. Upon feeling nothing come off it, she decided to take a glance down to see if there was something weird elsewhere on her body. It didn't seem like there were any problems. Her skin was still a little red from the shower, and her bush could use a bit of a trim, but there wasn't really anything worth getting alarmed about—

Hold on a minute...skin? Bush?!

"CRAP!"

Carol practically warped back into her apartment, her every inch of bare skin coated in a fine layer of sweat.

She couldn't believe it! She went outside butt-naked and didn't even realize it! Just like Henrietta did the other day! It hadn't even occurred to her to put any clothes on.

"What the hell is WRONG with us?" she grumbled, trudging to her room to go get some things to put on, feeling more than a little sheepish.

If I hadn't forgotten to take out the trash...or if I hadn't remembered that I forgot to take out the trash...I might have never realized I hadn't dressed yet. I might very well have gone to work just like this!

Carol shuddered at the thought. She didn't care about people seeing her naked at all, but people seeing her forget to do something as fundamental as putting her clothes on? That kind of humiliation would have killed her!

Of course, now that the subject of clothes had fully entered Carol's mind, she now realized precisely why this was going to be such a rotten day. It meant that her nude streak had to finally come to an end and she had to do her least favorite thing in the whole world: dress herself. It was never an easy thing, and after spending three whole days in her perfect natural state, it would be especially hellish today. But she didn't have a choice; she had work today, and she had to be decent at the office.

So biting her lip, Carol set about the arduous task of covering herself. She did not bother putting on any underwear; she had sworn off bras and panties a long time ago and was perfectly happy to go commando. But that didn't mean she could skimp out on anything else. She had stockings to climb into to at least feign a sense of modesty, a white blouse with a built-in shelf bra to make sure her girls didn't bounce around too much, and a business skirt and blazer in matching shades of black to make her look professional. With the addition of her heels, some makeup, and a good combing of her hair, her look was complete.

Carol stared at her clothed self in the mirror and took it all in. She looked good, or at least she supposed she did in the eyes of the business world. Her suit was straight and unwrinkled. Her lips were glossy and red. Her black hair was sleek, shiny, untangled, and "like she just stepped off a spaceship" as her daughter, Mindy, would describe it. In short, she was the perfect image for the modern day businesswoman.

Carol could only sigh at it. She didn't want to look like the perfect modern day businesswoman! She didn't want this suit to look straight on her, she didn't want her lips to look so red, she didn't want her hair to be so tidy. She wanted to wrestle the whole ensemble off her body and hurl it to the ground. She wanted to latch onto the cutest person she could find and leave lip marks all over their skin. She wanted her hair to get tousled and tangled just to tell everyone that she was a wild girl who craved fun and excitement!

She wanted to live like those women who served the Goddess, Zenriah!

Unrestrained!

Free!

Naked!

She had spent a lot of time yesterday reading the Scripture, and those Zenrist girls of ancient times really had it made. It seemed like they didn't have to worry about a thing, save how they were going to get, or give, their next orgasm. Everything about their lives was all about enjoying their bodies and being in love. The thing that every girl would and should ever want. If ever there was an afterlife, Carol hoped it would be like that.

Uh, not that she believed there could ever be an afterlife. Let alone a paradise where women just lived completely naked and had sex with each other and a goddess all the time.

It sure would be nice though.

Carol turned away and marched out of the room, intent to get as far away from the mirror as possible. If she thought about it any longer, thought about her hatred of clothes, or Zenrists, or the book lying on her bed any longer, she might feel the urge to just rip her suit off right now and start masturbating. She already wasted enough time thinking about them.

***

Tick, tick, tick, tick, tick, tick, tick, tick, tick...

Her fingers danced gracefully across her keyboard. Her eyes swung back and forth like pendulums across every word that flashed on her screen. Sentences were highlighted, underlined, and deleted with every scurrying motion of her mouse.

But inside her head, Carol was completely dead.

Yes, it was another droning day in the office, full of ennui, humdrum, and piles and piles of textual mush to slog through. Just like it had been last week. And the week before that, and the week before that.

Unfortunately, it was even worse today. Everything felt...tighter around Carol. More constraining. More claustrophobic. Like she was trapped in a cage built entirely around her whole body. Every now and then, she found herself absently tugging at her collar, pulling at her sleeve, or rubbing her legs together to loosen the fabrics closing in on her form, giving her skin a few precious seconds to breathe. But it wasn't enough.

Damn it, she cursed as she pulled at her blouse, which was making her feel especially itchy right around where her nipples were. This is what she got after spending such a long time without any clothes on. Her body always needed to take some time to get used to being wrapped up again, but it was really bad today. If it didn't let up anytime soon, she...she...she didn't even want to think about what would happen.

"Hey, Carol! Working hard, or hardly working?"

"Huh?" Carol half-gasped as she looked up to see just who had so rudely interrupted her anxiety. "Oh. Hi, Harold."

Harold beamed at her with that annoyingly friendly smile of his before he took a sip of his coffee. Though swallowing his drink caused that smile to mercifully flicker away, if only for a moment. "Bleck, coffee's especially bitter today," he said, pulling a retching expression before taking another sip.

"Then why are you drinking it?" said Carol, who decided she could use the small talk, if only to provide a distraction from her discomfort.

"Didn't get much sleep last night. Let's just say we ran into some car trouble on the way home from my son's grandparents that delayed us for...a little while," he grumbled, adding some unintelligible cursing under his breath.

"Is your car starting to break down?"

"No, the problem wasn't the car," Harold sighed, embarrassment starting to seep into his voice. "The problem was that...I couldn't get it out of the driveway." Upon saying that, he took another swig of his drink, doing so in a way that was far more fitting for a bottle of scotch than a mug of coffee.

"I...see," said Carol. "That must be quite the story."

"Yeah, one I could do without telling right now. But that's the story of my weekend. How was yours?"

Carol froze. Her weekend. That was the one thing she didn't want to think about right now. The one thing she couldn't afford to think about right now. Because if she did...she just might...

"It...was good," she stated robotically.

"You do anything fun?"

"Um..."

I spent three days straight totally, completely, and utterly naked? I walked around in public without a stitch of clothing on? I met some brilliant women and had sex with them? I learned about a crazy cult consisting of nudist lesbians?

"Uh, Carol? Are you okay?" said Harold as he waved a hand in front of her face.

"I...I..." she murmured. She needed to find something to say, something to satisfy her co-worker's curiosity, something that didn't involve her unclothed weekend hijinks. It wasn't an appropriate thing to bring up in the office after all...and it was once again making her feel tight all over as her yearning to return to that perfect state of being started to come back in full force.

Desperately, she darted her eyes toward every possible direction she could, hoping to find something to latch onto. She did, in the form of the little black mug in Harold's hands. "C...coffee."

"Excuse me?" he asked, raising an eyebrow.

"I...I went to New Deastone with a friend!" said Carol. "Yeah. A new coffee shop opened up there, and she wanted to check it out."

Yeah, that sounded good. She went to New Deastone over the weekend for "coffee." It was a good lie because it was completely true! She and Henrietta did stop by a coffee shop after all. And they had plenty of "coffee" on the way there. Hot, exotic, sexy, permanently naked coffee...

"Sounds like it was a pretty relaxing weekend for you then," said Harold. "I take it you're able to trust leaving your kids alone in the house?"

"Huh? Oh, Mindy and Erin? I didn't need to worry about them. They weren't home. They took a trip with their friends to Duny Beach. They'll be gone for the week." Already, Carol could feel her inner tensions ease up. She just dodged a bullet, and redirected the conversation to other matters. Matters that had nothing to do with sex or nudity. Her sanity was safe.

"Duny Beach, eh? That's nice this time of year. Oh, if only I could be in school again and enjoy these sweet summer vacations. Wouldn't mind catching some waves myself." Harold suddenly paused and furrowed his brow as a ponderous expression poured over him.

"What's going on?" said Carol. "Is something wrong?”

"No, no, nothing's wrong," said Harold. "It's just...I heard that they recently opened up some nude beaches there."

Carol froze again, so stiffly even her heart stopped. "What?"

"Yeah, there are nude beaches there. Or maybe just clothing-optional ones. But yeah, either way, there are places in Duny where you can just take it all off and run around in the altogether."

Take it all off. Carol really wanted to take it all off. Her clothes were beginning to close around her again. She could feel her blouse tightening around her neck, threatening to cut off her air. She tugged at her collar.

"Wh-what are you saying?" she stammered.

"I'm not saying anything," said Harold. "Just that, if your daughters aren't careful, they might find themselves out of their swimsuits. Especially if they're friends with some dirty little devils." He chuckled good-naturedly as he took another sip of coffee. "Don't be surprised if they come home flustered with some funny little stories they have no intention of telling you."

"Ha...yeah. I'll...keep that in mind," said Carol, speaking slowly so as to take long, deep breaths between her words. It was getting hard to breathe in her clothes. Hell, it was getting hard to exist in them. Her breasts were pressing so hard against the fabric of her top that it hurt. A strip of cloth was starting to drip in between her buttocks that they started to itch. Her legs felt so stiff that she unconsciously rubbed them together just to remind herself that they were not clamped within a vice. And the light scratching sound of her nylons grinding against each other was like nails on a chalkboard.

"Not that you need them to tell you anything," Harold continued. "You could probably find plenty of similar stories online. Would you believe that there actually exists this subgenre of fiction on the internet where people, usually women, lose their clothes and get stuck running around naked? It's the silliest thing ever. I would have never guessed such a thing existed if my son hadn't accidentally left a webpage to one open on his laptop. And all this time, I thought he wasn't one for reading. Shows how much I know about my own kid."

Things were getting really unbearable for Carol. Her vision was starting to blur. Her head was growing heavy on her shoulders. Her clothes were getting tighter all around her. If she didn't do something about them real soon, either they'd crush her body into a squishy mess, or her body would break them apart at the seams.

"I won't confront him about it, though. And I won't tell his mother either," said Harold. "It's just regular teenage curiosity. Not our business and we've talked about these things a lot with him in the past. But I have to wonder what he would actually do if he did find a girl like that? A girl who'd be willing to strip down and run around naked for him at a moment's notice."

"I gotta go!" Carol cried, shooting up to her feet so forcefully she blasted her chair straight into the wall.

"Oh, well, yeah, I guess I should too. Nice talking to you."

Carol paid him no mind as she rushed off as fast as her heels would allow. She knew it was rude to run off like that in the middle of a conversation, she knew she was likely drawing stares, but she couldn't help it. She had to get away, she had to hide, she had to find the one place in the entire office that would grant her sanctuary.

She found it as she all but ran through the door of the ladies room, causing a couple of women exiting it to leap to the side in surprise as she blazed past them.

"Whoa! What's got into her?" said one.

"She must've had Mexican for breakfast."

Carol ignored them as she dove into one of the toilet stalls, thankful to see they were all empty and clean. Upon slamming both the door and the toilet lid shut, she wasted no time in beginning the frantic task of taking her clothes off, or at least her top, where the worst of her discomfort was. She hatefully hurled her blazer onto the floor, quietly relishing the whipping sound it made as it collided with the toilet before hooking her fingers onto the bottom of her blouse and pulling them upward.

"Ahhhhhh!" she sighed as she felt the air pour over her breasts the second the fabric was pulled completely away from them. They bounced freely in the air once, large and proud, the nubs of their nipples standing tall and at attention, before settling down to a gentle jiggle and coming to a complete rest upon her chest.

"Mmmm," she murmured as she ran her hands over them, just to see for herself that they really were bare, really were free, the way she liked them to be. They were. So soft and warm and squishy, save for her nipples, which were hard and pointy enough to pop a balloon. Words could not describe how much she loved her breasts, loved to touch them, loved to be touched on them, by either human hands or the elements. It was good to have them out, good to have them exposed. It was like they could breathe, come alive, and enjoy life with her.

She wasn't as naked as she liked to be, but it was nevertheless the panacea she needed. The tension all around her dissipated like fog in the wind.

"Phew, thought I was going to die," she mumbled. "I wonder what that was all about?"

Now that Carol wasn't feeling so claustrophobic, she was able to think rationally again. Wearing clothing was always discomforting for her, but it never got that bad before. Was it because she hadn't had a naked streak that long or that...public in over twenty years? Or ever for that matter? Did she not give her body enough time to acclimate itself to clothing? Did the Zenrists in New Deastone have an effect on her?

The Zenrists. Just thinking about those nudist lesbian cultists made Carol sigh wistfully. It always came back to them. They got to enjoy such an unprecedented level of freedom, the likes of which she could only dream about. If I was Zenrist, this wouldn't be a problem. I could just come into the office naked as the day I was born. I wouldn't have to worry about dressing right, dressing neatly, or getting dressed at all.

She looked down at her bare boob and squeezed it tenderly. I could let my girls jiggle and bounce all they liked. I could even play with them all I liked! That thought brought a smile to her face and prompted her to flick her nipple around playfully. The feeling was good, it was arousing, and more than anything else, it was strangely calming. The fact that she could find time in the day to pleasure herself slightly like this seemed to fill her with a sense of peace. Much like how she imagined the Zenrists felt when they pleasured themselves, knowing they were fulfilling their purpose to Almighty Zenriah.

But I can't ever be one. I can't believe in the Goddess like they do.

Carol's smile melted into a frown. Here she was, a nudist, an exhibitionist, a woman who hated clothes, who would gladly shuck them off forever if she could, but was doomed to spend eternity stuck within them. All because she was not a religious woman. The Zenrists got to run around naked all the time, and she had to hide in a bathroom just to enjoy a moment of relief. It wasn't fair. It wasn't fair at all.

There's nothing I can do about that though, she thought with a sad shake of her head. So there's no point in even thinking about it. I need to focus on what really matters: my job.

Yes, her job. Which she had to get back to sooner rather than later, and hopefully without having another freak-out. So with a heavy heart, Carol picked her blouse up off the floor and slipped it over her chest, almost wincing in pain as she felt her boobs get smothered in the hated fabric once more. Her blazer quickly followed. After taking a moment to primp her hair in front of the mirror and make sure she was tidy, the wannabe nudist exited the bathroom, intent to put every thought about Zenrism and nudity behind her.

Unfortunately, she didn't walk two steps out before the thoughts returned in full force when a girl holding a stack of papers nearly crashed into her. "Oh, excuse me!" the girl whimpered as she stumbled in place, tightening her grip on the sheets to keep them from flying in every conceivable direction.

Carol took a look at her. She was a pretty young thing, likely an intern still in college, with chestnut hair tied back in a ponytail, and wearing a pair of glasses that made her look younger and more innocent than she actually was, an effect that was only further heightened by the nervous demeanor she was exhibiting through her wide startled eyes and shaking hands.

"Oh, uh...it's no bother," Carol mumbled apologetically as she took a step back to allow the girl to continue on her way. "Don't mind me."

The intern nodded and did just that, but Carol didn't let her out of her sight. She turned her gaze to watch her go, taking note of the innocent flower's hips that she knew were swaying deliciously under that business skirt of hers.

If I was a Zenrist...then I could just pick her up and have my way with her. I could just tear her clothes off, see what she's like under there, completely devour her...

She could already imagine how the encounter would go. She would approach the tiny little girl with her completely naked body, walking with just the right swagger that would leave the intern absolutely star-struck. Then Carol would scoop her up in her strong arms, carry her to her desk like a bride, rip her clothes off until she had only what her parents gave her, and trib her brains out. Carol would mash her clit into hers, press her boobs into the intern's face, make her suck and worship her nipples like they were the Goddess' themselves. And then the two of them would cum. All over the desk, on the floor. And everyone would watch. It was enough to make Carol lick her lips hungrily.

But with her fantasy came another uncomfortable realization. Once more, it reminded her that she was not a Zenrist. She was an ordinary woman, and she had to wear clothes. And the clothes she was wearing were starting to close in around her again.

Carol gulped. It was just like she thought it would be when she woke up this morning; this was going to be a bad day.

#finding goddess #carol #zenrism #zenrist