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mckennamayfairgoode · 3 years

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Show Me the Foothold From Which I Can Climb [Part One]

Billie Dean Howard x Reader

Word Count: 6k

Request: i saw that your requests were open and i wanted to ask if you could do something for billie x reader, i LOVED your other one. -requested by anon

Warnings: Nothing yet, except minor character death, but it will get VERY heavy later on. (Future TW include: addiction, alcoholism, grief, depression, suicidal thoughts.)

A/N: I’ve spent too long working on this, so I decided to break it up into parts and post it instead of going back over the same scenes again and again. I’m not sure how many parts it will be. Probably three or four. A big thank you to @lucyintheskywithxanax as usual for being my plastic duck. You are The Best (no, really, you are). ❤

Song: Mountain at My Gates by FOALS. Also mentioned is I’m Gonna Be (500 Miles) by The Proclaimers.

“Let’s take five minutes, okay? Sorry, everyone, they’re being stubborn today.” Billie smiles apologetically at the camera crew and the sight of it alone is enough to ease the mounting frustration in the room. Shoulders relax and tension melts away as if the atmosphere hadn’t been stifling just moments before. You call it ‘The Billie Effect.’

“Five minutes and we’ll try again,” the director agrees, giving the crew the go-ahead to take a break. There’s a spattering of pleased murmurs before everyone uses the opportunity to disperse around the house or go outside for some fresh air.

You adjust the camera on your shoulder and watch as the director walks up to Billie, his hands moving in animated gestures as he speaks. You can’t hear what he’s saying, but you can imagine. The long day has not made him any more pleasant to be around. The smile on Billie’s lips is charming as she attempts to sooth his ruffled feathers. It only takes a moment, one hand resting on his shoulder to make the interaction seem more intimate than it is, before he turns away from her with a satisfied expression that makes something inside you tug unpleasantly. Once he turns away from her, Billie’s bright expression falls and her brows pinch together.

You wait for him to walk away before easing up to her side, eyeing his back as the distance between you grows. “Was he giving you trouble?”

“He’s the director of the show, Y/N,” she points out and when you turn to her, you see that her smile has returned, beautiful and real and just for you. Your heart seems to breathe a sigh of relief.

You shrug the shoulder not currently occupied by a camera. “Yeah, well, without you there wouldn’t be a show,” you remind her, annoyance clear in your tone.

Billie laughs, low and husky. “Easy, tiger.” She wraps a hand around your bicep and runs her thumb along the edge of your shirt sleeve, barely dancing across your bare skin and shooting tingles up your spine. “Everyone has their part to play, even him.”

You roll your eyes. “It’d be easier if he played his part somewhere else,” you mutter.

She grins, her big brown eyes dancing with amusement. You watch that familiar teasing glint bleed into them like wine stains into a beige carpet. “Careful there, sweetheart. I’m starting to get the impression that you care about me.”

“And I’m starting to get the impression that you want me to care about you,” you retort playfully, watching the pleased smile morph her beautiful face into something soft and sweet. No one gets to see her like this. No one but you. That smile only lasts a second before her shoulders tense, just barely, just enough for you to notice. Her gaze flicks to the side. You’ve been around long enough to know that she’s feeling or seeing something you can’t. Your voice softens into a soothing tone. “Everything okay, pretty woman?”

Billie startles, her grip tightening on your arm as she steadies herself before she flashes you a comforting smile. “Just fine, sweetheart.” She raises a slender hand and with one long acrylic nail extended, points to a spot in front of you both. “I can feel them right here, but they won’t come out.”

You both look at the space like your combined staring power will overwhelm the spirits and force them to reveal themselves. You don’t realize how close you’ve drifted to one another until you go to nudge her shoulder with your own. “They will,” you say.

The darkness in her eyes eases at the conviction in your tone. She raises an eyebrow. “And how do you know that?” she asks. “We’ve been here for eight hours and have nothing to show for it.”

You resist the urge to move a wayward curl back behind her ear. “You’re Billie Dean Howard. No one can resist you.”

Her smile turns sly. “Not even you?”

You turn to face her and feel your heart stutter. She’s already looking at you, her eyes warm and tender. “Not even me,” you finally say, your tone leaving no doubt that you are dead serious. The space between you is so small your noses would brush if you tipped forward. There’s a split second where you think you might kiss her. If you weren’t in the middle of a haunted house surrounded by your coworkers, if you were alone, and if she was looking at you like she is right now, maybe you would lean in and wipe that sly smile from her face with your lips.

“You ready, Billie?” A masculine voice startles you both out of the moment causing you to jerk away and take a step back from each other. Billie is elegant and composed as usual, but your heart thunders in your chest like you are a storm splitting open the sky. You glance at her lips. Had she been leaning in too?

Billie gives the director a nod before turning back to you. The intensity hasn’t left her eyes. You search them for a moment, find the sincerity there and anchor to it with your heart. A slow grin spreads across your face and you nod to the starting marker on the floor. “Come on, pretty woman. I promise to get your good angle.”

She scoffs, an amused expression lighting up her face. “You always get my good angle.”

“It’s not the only thing I plan on getting,” you flirt. “Maybe if you’re lucky I’ll prove it to you later.”

Billie laughs and tosses her wavy curls back. “Don’t make promises you can’t keep, sweet thing,” she purrs, trailing her fingertips along your shoulders as she passes behind you.

You watch her go and know your expression must be lovestruck. Her presence always makes you feel weightless, a bird’s wayward feather in free fall. You think you might be able to float to the ceiling if you tried.

“You don’t really believe in this bullshit, do you?” a voice asks over your shoulder. You glance behind you to see your new assistant standing there looking perplexed and bored.

You raise an eyebrow, shifting the camera on your shoulder. “Why are you working here if you don’t believe it?”

He shrugs, following you to the mark and standing behind you. “Needed the experience,” he says simply.

You look into the viewfinder, adjusting the angle and shuffling until the sunlight streaming in from the living room window carves highlights into Billie’s cheekbones. She looks like a marble sculpture, like she belongs in the Louvre and not this haunted house in southern California, like she will be cemented in time, beautiful and endless. “Stick around,” you tell him. You pull back, look over the top of the camera, and lock eyes with Billie from across the room. “She’ll get them to show. She always does.”

“Holy shit.” Your assistant's voice comes out in a breathy whisper, barely audible over the rattling sound of wheels rolling along the pavement.

You grin but resist the urge to snicker, because you’ve been there before. Skeptical and unsure, drawn to Billie of course, in awe of her smile, but not a believer in anything you couldn’t physically see. Then she had brought a derelict house to life with light that was not natural and shadows that liked to play pretend and you had watched her speak to someone whose presence you couldn’t even feel. That moment had changed you.

Once upon a time, you had been so very small and fearful of the things you did not understand. Locked in your castle and warned away from the room at the end of the hall, you were protected, but sheltered, and your world had been so very small along with you. Until one day, you met a princess with golden hair and big brown eyes, who was kind and good and could see things you could not.

The princess had taken you by the hand and led you to the end of the hall where she cracked the door open so that you could take a peek into the room you were not allowed in. Inside that room was a darkness and in that darkness was a glimmer of something bigger than you. You’d tugged at her hand to ward her away from the things you feared, but she stood tall and faced the darkness head on.

“Don’t be scared,” she’d said. The princess turned on a light - you think it came from within her - and the darkness shrank back, twisting into shadows that held out their spindly arms but could not reach you no matter how hard they tried. She looked at you and she smiled. “I won’t let them hurt you,” she promised and you believed her. You were a mountain and you were not afraid of anything.

“You’ll get used to it,” you say, reaching the studio van and gesturing for him to help you load the equipment cases inside.

He doesn’t look like he believes you. In fact, he looks like he might lose his lunch right there on the sidewalk. He wouldn’t be the first who couldn’t handle a glimpse of the other side. Ignoring it won’t make it go away, but you don’t say that. Instead, you latch the doors behind you, bid him goodnight, and meander down the sidewalk in the direction of your car.

You watch the van’s tail lights disappear around the bend for only a moment before Billie’s soul inevitably calls to yours and you turn to look for her. She’s still standing on the front porch speaking with the homeowners. Not surprising. Billie hates to leave a job half finished. She nods her head empathetically, places a hand on the man’s arm, and says something charming no doubt. The couple laughs in response, just as you knew they would. No one can resist Billie Dean Howard. You lean back against the hood of your car, tuck your hands into your pockets, and wait.

It doesn’t take long. A few minutes later, she struts toward you like she’s on the red carpet and not a cracked, chalk-covered sidewalk in the middle of the suburbs. Your heart flounders in your chest like a fish on the deck of a boat and you wonder if you will always be this helpless when faced with her presence. “Hey, pretty woman.” You nod to the road behind you. “Wanna go for a drive?”

“And where would you be taking me on a Friday night?” Even across the distance, you can see the mischievousness in her expression. Billie loves to play games, and you are more than happy to indulge her.

You reach in your pocket for your keys, absentmindedly playing with them as you grin. “Sorry, I can’t tell you that. Try again.”

Billie slows to a stop in front of you and tilts her head, eyeing you with a barely concealed smile. She tries to look stern but the glitter in her eyes betrays her. “What are you up to, Y/N?”

You shrug. “I’m just keeping my promises,” you say simply. You reach over and open the passenger door for her with a flourish. “Your chariot awaits.”

“We’re here,” you announce, stepping out of the car and shutting the door behind you.

Billie follows you at a leisurely pace, her head turning this way and that as she takes in your surroundings. She looks out of place up here, like a beautiful porcelain doll left in the middle of the woods. She is your diamond in the rough, your supernova in an empty sky. She burns. You wonder if it’s for you.

“Sweetheart?”

“Yes?” you respond, already knowing the question that will leave her lips.

“Why have you brought me to a cliff?”

You laugh and hold out your hand. “Do you trust me?” you ask, serious despite the light tone to your voice.

Billie does not hesitate. She sets her well manicured hand in yours, looks you in the eyes, and says, “Always.”

You have to swallow the lump in your throat to respond. “Good, because I was going to drive us both off the cliff, but there’s a concrete barrier in the way. We’ll have to go on foot and just jump off instead.”

She chuckles, low and throaty in just the way that makes your spine shiver. “Oh, darling. I’m going to need some incentives if you’re going to make me do all that in these shoes.”

You smirk and, mindful of her expensive heels, begin leading her down the smoothest path to the cliffside. “I’m sure I can come up with something.”

“I’m sure you can,” she purrs. Her hand in yours is soft and warm. You have held hands before. Large hands, small hands, the hands of those you love and hands from a distant past that you haven’t held for a very long time but still remember. There had been fingers wrapped around a thumb bigger than yours, hands clasped palm to palm as your brother helped you cross the street, pinkies interlocked to cement promises that would surpass time and age, fingertips pressed together beneath the table in the library with the girl who always laughed at your jokes. They were not like this. Holding this hand felt like coming home. Like you were meant to hold it. Like you have held it before.

As you near the aforementioned barrier, you turn to her with an impish smile. “Close your eyes,” you say.

Billie quirks an eyebrow. “I don’t usually do that on the first date.”

Your heart jumps, excited, happy, hopeful. “You let me bring you to a cliff on our first date?” you ask, playfully appalled.

Her smile grows fond. “It’s starting to grow on me.”

You bite your lip to quell the grin forming and tug at her hand. “Come on, the incentive lies in what will happen after you close them.”

“Well, how can I resist when you put it like that?” she teases, shutting her eyes and trusting you to guide her the rest of the way. You do, one careful step at a time, until you are near the edge. You look out over the view and feel your soul untangle itself from your heart, but it does not leave, not yet. It wants to be free, but it doesn’t want to go alone.

You glance back at her, just a moment, maybe just to check that she’s real and not a vision that lives in your head. “You can open them now.”

She does.

From a bluff overlooking the city, you watch as the sun sets, a jeweled crown that settles itself on the head of a skyscraper, radiant and eternal. Just for her. For the princess in your fairy tale. Almost as if you had willed it into existence all by yourself, lights start appearing in the city. Streetlamps, headlights, lights from offices and businesses and apartments; all of them blink on, one tiny speck at a time, until the whole of Los Angeles is alight with stars of their own making.

You don’t say anything and neither does she. You don’t need to. Billie’s fingers slide between your own, more intimate than any night you’ve spent in bed with another woman, and she squeezes. Just once. Your soul follows the invisible thread between your hearts and entangles itself with hers. They float away together like flower petals on a summer breeze.

You turn to her as she looks off into the horizon. Your eyes follow the shape of her face, from her forehead to the gentle slope of her nose, the curves of her mouth to the jut of her chin, and you wish you were tracing it with your fingertip instead. The setting sun casts a glow to her hair turning it different shades of molten gold and pink and you think you have never seen a more beautiful sight.

When she turns to face you, your eyes meet and your noses touch, much like they almost had earlier that day. Only this time there is nothing stopping you from closing the distance. Your breath hitches, your heart thunders, you are a feather in free fall, but you will not be afraid. Billie would never hurt you. Not your protector, your safety, your light.

You tangle your free hand into her hair and pull her close enough to brush your mouth against hers. It’s soft and tender, flowers grazing in a moonlit meadow, the gentle fluttering of a butterfly’s wings, the ocean lapping against the sand on a lazy, summer night.

Her other hand reaches for your cheek, pulling you closer. You melt against her, breathe her in, think maybe this is what happiness is, maybe this is what eternity would feel like as long as you are with her. She sighs into your mouth like she has been waiting for this moment as long as you have. Your soul ignites as her nails graze your cheek, gentle and revering, like you are precious, like you are important, like you are the flower petal that may float away. Maybe you fell in love with her then. Maybe you have been in love with her all this time.

“Hello?”

“Hi there, sweet thing. Where are you?” Your tired ears perk up at the sound of Billie’s voice, a smile lighting up your face as if it had been waiting just for her.

“Hi, baby. I’m at the studio going over the footage from yesterday. Are you still at the interview?” You glance out of the nearby window. Night has already fallen and rain pelts against the glass like a swarm of angry bees. “It’s late.”

“It ran over by two hours,” she explains, her voice tight and clipped.

You furrow your brows. “You don’t sound happy about that. Did it not go well?”

You hear the flick of a lighter. “If you call four hours of talking in circles ‘well’ then one would say it went perfectly fine.” She sighs. “Maybe I was just impatient.”

“For what?”

“For you.” Your breath catches in your throat. You almost trip going down the stairs but manage to catch yourself in time. “Y/N?”

“I’m here,” you manage to say.

You can practically hear the smirk in her voice. “I’d like to see you tonight. What do you think?”

Heartbeat thudding in your ears, you finally reach the main lobby and come to a stop in front of the studio doors. Thunder rumbles through the building, shaking the glass and seeming to bounce off empty corners to echo back at you. You can barely see the street behind the sheets of rain. Maybe Hell has finally frozen over and Los Angeles is in the midst of a hurricane. “I’m thinking it’s the perfect night for a movie and takeout,” you say once you’ve gained control of your vocal chords.

Billie exhales. The sound of it wavers; she’s smiling. “My place is closer; is that alright with you?”

“Yes, of course,” you respond and hope you don’t sound too eager. Even though you are. Even though all you want is to see her look at you with that exasperated fondness that makes your heart melt. You want her to push you away, to laugh, to pull you right back in before she kisses you senseless. You just want to be home.

“Good,” she pauses and you can picture that fond expression in your head as clearly as if it were right in front of you. “See you soon, sweetheart.”

You bite your lip, trying and failing to soothe your expression into something calm and collected. “See you soon, pretty woman.” You don’t even bother putting on your jacket before dashing outside into the torrential downpour.

Traffic in Los Angeles is always congested at best no matter where you go. Cars, taxis, and buses stay bumper to bumper until you get further away from the city and closer to Billie’s suburbs. The rain makes it hard to see the road, let alone other cars, so you keep your hands tightly gripped around the wheel and maintain a steady pace as you follow the bright yellow shape of the taxi in front of you.

Even with the storm raging around you, you feel invincible, like nothing can touch you. Thunder rumbles in the distance, lightning cracks the air, and rain pelts the roof of your car like lead bullets, but you don’t hear any of it. Your mind is a paradise and it is so quiet. Your thumbs tap rhythmically against the steering wheel as you sing along to the song on the radio.

“But I would walk five hundred miles and I would walk five hundred more-”

You let the music sweep its way into your very being, washing over you and bringing with it a sense of peace. It makes you think of Billie and you realize you’re never not thinking of Billie, not anymore, not since she planted herself in your earth and lit up your night sky with a blazing sun. It feels like she has intertwined herself so closely to you, to your heart, to your soul, to your spirit, that you are no longer sure where she ends and you begin.

Captivated by her smile, enraptured by her kind heart, drawn to the passion that runs through her veins in lieu of blood, lovesick, lovestruck, love, love, love. Every little memory you make with her anew blinks on like a star in a sunset painted cityscape and you want to point your finger in its direction and tell her the tale of how a princess - with light embedded in her soul - saved you from your castle.

You’re thinking about her still when you notice the taxi peel off into the next lane. You don’t see him until it’s too late.

A boy on a bike.

He darts in front of you out of nowhere or maybe he had been there the whole time and you just couldn’t see him in the rain. You see him now. Time slows down to a crawl - or maybe it never slowed at all; maybe you have been on the other side all along.

He’s wearing a blue jacket. You notice it as your foot slams on the breaks, as you twist the steering wheel to the side in an attempt to swerve around him, as your car’s tires screech and slip against the rain-soaked street. It’s navy blue. You hear the sickening thump it makes when you hit him, feel the car jerk as you crash into a utility pole and the airbag knocks you in the face hard enough to make you black out for a second. Maybe two. You’re not sure. All you know is that when you finally summon the strength to open your eyes again, you’re assaulted by the smell of chemicals from the deployed airbag that burn your nostrils when you breathe. Your body aches from where you slammed against the seat belt on impact, your face, your chest - your heart, you think - but you can barely feel it. You are numb.

You blink rapidly to clear the dark spots from your vision, but all it does is serve to make you dizzy. Your head spins, feeling much like the inside of a snow globe after it’s been shaken up by an overeager child. With panic churning inside you like a hurricane, you claw at your seat belt. Your fingers are shaking and clumsy and they don’t seem to work anymore and sobs well in your throat because this can’t be happening. It must be a dream, a nightmare, anything but what you know deep in your heart that it is: reality, the darkness whispers. A tendril of it slithers through the keyhole. It watches you. It is grinning.

“Come on, come on,” you mutter, or at least you think you do, before throwing open your door with one hand and scrabbling for the seat belt latch with the other. You manage to hit the release and go careening out of the car, landing on your hands and knees with a smack against the wet pavement.

A man runs up to you, clutching your arm and pulling you up with large, gentle hands. Rain falls into your already blurry eyes, clinging to your eyelashes like tears as you look up at him and notice he has a full, greying beard. His mouth is moving but you can’t hear him over the ringing in your ears.

You look away from him, searching, wild, crazed. Maybe you are crazy. Maybe you are a lunatic. A crowd has half formed on the side of the road, sporting parkas and umbrellas. Like anxious birds, they flutter around a slumped figure laying unnaturally still on the ground. It wears a navy blue jacket.

You push the man away, stumbling on shaking legs like a newborn foal as you attempt to cross the distance between you and the flock of people. Dread fills your bones, cements itself as a lump in your throat, but you don’t stop. You can’t. Someone on their cell phone tries to reach out to you, but you shove their hands aside. Rain soaks the thin cloth of your t-shirt causing the material to cling to you like a second skin. But you can’t feel it. You can’t feel anything.

You fall to your knees before him, landing with a splash in the puddle beneath you. Your mouth moves rapidly as you speak words you can’t hear: a chant, a plea, a prayer. Wake up! Come on, kid, just wake up. I’m so sorry. Please, wake up. All my fault, I’m sorry, I’m sorry. You beg - to gods, to monsters, to spirits and ghosts and the nature of things - but it falls on deaf ears as if you had never spoken at all. You feel for his pulse, for a sign, for anything. There is none. The darkness laughs. It is muffled behind the door but you can feel the vibrations of it running through your veins.

You hunch over yourself, fingers clutching at the wet pavement as you dig your nails into the asphalt, wanting to crawl inside your own body like a cocoon, wanting to feel something, anything. The ringing in your ears is so loud, so intense it fills your head and drowns out every other sound. The woman who has knelt down at your side and put her hand on your shoulder as she tries to speak to you. The thunder you can feel rumbling through the earth beneath your palms. The sirens from emergency vehicles you only know are there because the red and blue flashing lights cast a glow on his motionless form. You have never known another sound. It rings and rings and rings. It is endless.

You want to close your eyes. You want to block it all out, pretend that you’re still in your car, that you’re almost to Billie’s suburbs, and any minute now, she will greet you at the door. Well, would you look at that, she’d say. I don’t remember ordering dessert. Her eyes would glimmer and she would smile, beautiful, radiant, the light inside of her too bright for her to do anything but shine.

Billie- Your mind latches onto her like she is your buoy in the middle of the sea, and just the thought of her will keep you afloat even as the darkness uses its spindly arms to pull you under the surface. You reach for the invisible thread that binds your hearts together and, insistently, desperately, you tug. I’m so sorry, Billie. You force your eyes open. You force yourself to look at him. At the boy you did not see.

His bike lays in the middle of the road, bent and misshapen. The back wheel is still spinning.

From your open car door comes the notes of a familiar song. It echoes through the night, beneath the steady beat of the rain and the high, rumbling noise of thunder, and it is not beautiful anymore. It is haunting.

“Just to be the man who walked a thousand miles-”

You can’t feel anything.

“-to fall down at your door.”

“Will sh- b- okay?”

“Mil- conc-ssi-n, sh- in shock-”

“Try -alking t- he-”

Voices echo around you, so muffled and distorted that you can’t understand what they’re saying. They sound like they’re coming from very far away and the effort it would take to listen far outweighs the energy you have. You feel drained, like you’re sitting in the bottom of a fish bowl and the words bounce off the water to somewhere else. Not to you.

Not until you hear her.

“Look at me, Y/N.” Hands cup your face in a gentle hold, fingers tenderly stroking the skin of your cheekbones. The voice is so familiar. It cuts through the haze fogging your mind and you reach out as if to embrace it, to let it crawl inside your heart and warm you from the inside out. “Come on, sweetheart. Look at me.”

You blink. Billie? Your eyelashes flutter as the world gradually comes into focus, no longer a kaleidoscope of colors and shapes. With it, comes an angel. An angel with sunset hair and glimmering eyes and a kind smile. “Pretty woman?” you ask, and you wonder what happened to make your voice sound so raw and broken.

“There’s my girl,” she murmurs, ducking her head to meet your eyes. “Focus on me, baby.” You try to, holding her gaze like you would rather drown in it than face the demon you can feel hovering over your shoulder. She has a furrow between her brows, the one she has only when she’s truly upset. Why is she so sad? Why are you?

“Billie, I’m so sorry,” you whisper, but you can’t remember why you’re sorry. Only that you should be. Only that your heart aches, you smell like chemicals, and it feels like you just went a round with a boxer and lost. But it’s all a blur and you can’t remember why.

Billie reaches up and brushes your hair back away from your face. “It’s okay, sweetheart. Everything’s going to be okay.” Her smile is forced and the implication behind it only stirs the panic forming inside you until it spins so fast that it feels like you’re standing in the eye of a hurricane.

“Ma’am, we need to speak with her,” a voice speaks suddenly from the doorway and you snap out of your trance, out of the safety of Billie’s gaze, and find yourself in a hospital room, in a hospital bed with an IV in your arm. The walls are a stark white that hurts your eyes to look at. It’s bare and sterile and impersonal; it feels like you just woke up in a padded cell where you are gradually losing your mind.

Billie looks over her shoulder; you follow her gaze and feel your stomach drop unpleasantly. A police officer stands just inside the door. You become suddenly aware of a bone deep chill pervading your entire body. There’s a blanket pulled up around your shoulders but you can’t seem to stop shaking. Why can’t you stop shaking?

“No, you don’t,” Billie says, the words tense as they leave her lips. The edges are sharp and you know if you were to reach out, they would cut you just as easily as a blade. You have never heard her sound like that before. “She’s still in shock. She won’t be able to tell you anything you haven’t already figured out from the cameras.” Your mind falters. The hurricane intensifies, becoming a swirling mass of wind and rain. It threatens to swallow you whole.

The officer steps into the room and raises his hands in a placating gesture. “It’s just procedure, Ms. Howard.”

Billie frowns, standing up and sliding in front of you as if to shield you from him. “I don’t give a damn. You could drag the Dalai Lama down here for all I care. I’m not letting you speak to her until she knows what’s going on.”

“Well, I’m not the Dalai Lama, I’m an officer of the law and if she’s responsive, I need to take her statement,” he insists, not unkindly. He looks over Billie’s shoulder at you, his expression apprehensive and sorrowful. Something is very, very wrong. You can feel it in your bones. The hurricane lashes out at you, angry and scared. You wonder if the hurricane is you.

Their argument drifts to the background as flashing lights from the window capture your attention. Blue and red. Familiar. The colors start to blur as rain hits the glass pane and you can only watch, mesmerized, as one droplet becomes two and three and then thunder - it rumbles so loudly it startles you and your heart leaps, pounds, races in your chest - and, suddenly, as if it had been this way all along, the hurricane is not inside of you anymore. It is all around you, surrounding you, and you are stuck within, caged like a bird, trapped like a ghost in a haunted house, you are a lunatic in a padded white cell.

And then you remember.

Rain. So much rain. Sheets of it that slick the pavement and thunder that shakes the earth. But you are going to Billie’s, where you are warm, where you are safe, and a little rain is worth it to see the look on her face when she opens the door and sees you standing on the other side. Well, would you look at that, she’d say. I don’t remember ordering dessert. And she would smile and she would shine and you would walk among the clouds like a god.

Something inside you stirs, something troubled, something bigger than you. An exiled giant chained to the mountain pass, a forgotten creature locked in the depths of Hell, the darkness behind the door. For the first time since meeting Billie, you feel afraid.

A taxi, bright yellow, the color of sunflowers and sunshine and that knitted sweater Billie likes to wear in the summer. It veers off; you watch it float away, along the yellow brick road, maybe into the sky to Neverland, down the rabbit hole, it goes and goes and goes. And then a boy and a navy blue jacket and a bike with a misshapen wheel that never stopped turning.

The darkness pushes at the locked door, snaking it’s spindly arms along the edge, seeking for a way out, searching for a weakness. You can feel its eyes on you, watching you through the keyhole.

A mistake, you didn’t see him, you tried to stop, to swerve, you tried to do anything else but what you did, it’s your fault and you know it, you did this. The road was so wet, you could feel it beneath your hands, flashing lights illuminate his body, blue and red, someone touches your shoulder but you can’t feel it, wake up, wake up, unnaturally still, a song, your ears ring, it’s endless, still, so still, blue and red, it casts a glow to his face, but I would walk five hundred miles and I would walk- You dig your nails into the pavement. You can’t feel anything.

You did this. It’s your fault. It’s all your fault.

You can feel it the moment the lock shatters and the door swings open. It feels inevitable, like you have been staring into the abyss this whole time, and it has finally decided to swallow you whole. The darkness slithers out and you watch it with bated breath. You have never known a fear this great, the moment you stared into the darkness and didn’t have your light.

Your soul calls for Billie, screams out her name, begs and pleads for her to protect you like she always said she would. You reach out for the invisible thread tethered between you and you tug and tug and tug but your hands are slippery and you can’t hold on. Your fingers brush her sleeve.

The darkness seems to smile. You can feel its amusement, its maliciousness, its cruelty. You are frozen in place as it moves towards you, ensnared like a rabbit in a trap, you are a lunatic in a padded cell. It’s spindly arms reach out. I’m so sorry, Billie. It embraces you like an old friend.

You let it.

#billie dean howard x reader #billie dean x reader #sarah paulson x reader #billie dean howard #billie dean howard imagine #american horror story imagine #american horror story #american horror story murder house #ahs imagine #ahs fic #wlw imagine #wlw fic #sarah paulson #ahs

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moonlit-mizukage · 3 years

Text

Chapter twelve: You’re fucking late

Summary: Y/n and Tendou are deeply in love. Living on the other side of Tokyo now, the Monsters are still up to their old shit. They even opened a few businesses for Tax reasons. Even though it’s been almost three years later, Y/n still has never been able to understand how they have avoided the law several times. When Tendou’s Mother reappears in his life, Y/n is confused as Tendou claimed she is dead. Finding out Tendou is being forced to take over the family business by his Mother, she soon learns the truth behind Tendou’s reason he never gets in legal trouble is his family business. His mother is quick to decline Y/n as his future wife and tries to set up Tendou with someone she sees more fit. What will happen to Y/n and Tendou? What will happen to Tendou’s “family business”? What does this mean for the future of the Monsters?

TW: Swearing, traitor, stealing

AN: Hey everyone!! I reached 500 followers! I am hosting an event that can be found here!! This chapter is also a little shorter then usual!

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Third person Pov

Tendou grabbed his jacket as he kissed Y/n before leaving.

“If there is any trouble text me okay paradise.” He said.

“Of course Satori. Let me know how it goes.” He laughed as he said his goodbye’s and left the house.

Y/n walked inside down to the guest room where Kenma was resting. Suna and shirabu were already inside the room.

“We only have one chance to do this right. So let’s get it done.” Suna said.

The three left Kenma’s room with a plan intact as Y/n walked off to find Matsukawa. Suna walked into the kitchen as Hanamaki pulled out his phone. Hanamaki looked over the top of his phone as Shirabu walked into the room with a plate of food. Hanamaki was standing off not really noticing the other two in the room.

“MAKI WHY DIDN'T YOU TELL ME FIRST?” Matsukawa came flying into the room as Shirabu stuck his foot out knocking Matsukawa down. Hanamaki launched his phone up as Suna caught it. He quickly tossed it to Y/n. She ran from the room down the hall to Kenma’s room.

“We went way off plan. I just told Mattsun that Maki had a girlfriend.” Kenma looked up from his computer screen as he plugged in his phone. After typing in some stuff he looked up to Y/n.

“I only need two minutes.” Y/n pulled out her phone and texted Shirabu. She then heard a loud noise and Hanamaki screamed.

The two minutes seem to be the longest two minutes of all time.

“Here.” Kenma said as he passed back the phone.

Y/n quickly left the room as she placed the phone on the counter sliding it to Suna. Suna put the phone in the sink to pretend they never touched it.

“Sorry I spilt my food on you.” Shirabu said as he left the room.

“What the fuck is happening in here?” Y/n asked.

“I tripped and fell into Maki. Then Shirabu tripped on me and spilt food on Hanamaki.”

“Oh alright. Suna can I have your help with some school shit?” Suna shook his head as the two headed down to Kenma’s room.

Shirabu was already standing behind Kenma.

“You guys are not going to believe this.” Shirabu said.

“What is it?” Y/n said as she moved behind Kenma. “Holy fuck who is this person?” She asked looking through the messages that were now up on the screen.

“What the fuck are we going to do about it?” Shirabu asked.

“Maybe we should ask Terushima or Kyotani?” Suna suggests.

“I’ll go talk to Yuuji. Can you find out who this person is and message me their name?” She asked kenma. He didn’t look up instead just past up a piece of paper with a name written on it. “Wish me luck.” She said as she walked out of the room.

She walked up the stairs to Terushima’s room. Before she could knock the door was pulled open.

“Oh sorry I thought you were Mad for a second.” Terushima said. “Can I help you with something Y/n?”

“Can we talk... in private?” She said. Terushima stepped back as she stepped into his room.

“What’s wrong?” He asked her.

“Hanamaki is a mole, and I know you will want proof and we have it but I have no idea what to do and before you say That doesn’t sound like the Y/n we all know, it’s cause I have no idea how to tell Satori one of his family members is a snake ass bitch.” She said.

“Wow okay, um can I see the proof, I just want to know how deep this shit is.” He said.

“We have to go to Kenma’s room to see it.”

“Alright let’s head down.”

MEANWHILE….

Over at the new house Tendou was sitting at the table waiting for Kohaku still. A young woman about his age walked into the kitchen and sat down in a seat next to him.

“Who the fuck are you?” He asked, angry.

“Kohaku invited me to dinner.”

“Of fucking course she did. Can you not fucking sit right next to me. This table is fucking huge.”

“She asked me to sit next to the man with red hair.” She said back with a smile.

“Fuck that.” He said as he stood up to move.

“Tori! I see you already met tonight’s special guest!” Kohaku shouted from behind him.

“You’re fucking late.” He spat at her.

“It’s my diner party. There is no being late. Did you get a chance to look around or introduce yourselves yet?”

“Yeah I fucking looked around and then even had time to fucking come here and play a fucking couple games of risk.”

“The sarcasm isn’t needed Tori. I am a busy woman.”

“Well I haven’t introduced myself yet.” The women at the table said. “I’m Haruhi Takahashi.”

“Great. So why the fuck is she here?” Tendou asked, looking at Kohaku.

“Well I wanted you to meet your new fiancé.”

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#haikyuu x reader #haikyuu fanfiction #haikyuu x y/n #haikyuu x you #haikyuu mafia au #haikyuu mafia smau #haikyuu mafia #haikyuu tendou #tendou smau #tendou x reader #tendou x you #tendou x y/n

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kzuhadovey · 3 years

Text

the times you both fell in love

character: choi soobin x f!reader

type: fluffy fluff!!

warnings: death of a loved one

song recommendations: night changes - one direction

so i was just sleeping- and this just popped up in my mind?? so i decided to write it so ~enjoy~ also i did not proof read i’m sorry

It was a quiet, peaceful day for Choi Soobin. Flowers dropped from the tall trees and a slight breeze caressed Soobin’s face. Soobin hummed quietly as he glanced beside him, being met with… you. You were carrying a large backpack and a baby in your arms. “Psst. Y/N.” Soobin whispered, not wanting to wake the baby. “What?” You glanced at him quickly. “I love you.” The way your cheeks turned red and you giggled a little. He has said that to you over 500 times and yet when he said it, he felt like falling in love with you over and over again.

➵ one Y/N Y/L/N sat in the car, a barbie backpack on her back and a frown on her face. "Come on Y/N, cheer up." Her father said, poking her cheek. Y/N looked away in annoyance. "Soobin's gonna be just fine dear." He said, laughing. Y/N at the age of 6 was extremely attached to her neighbor and best friend, Choi Soobin. They always went to school together and when one-day Soobin fell ill, Y/N was in a completely sour mood. "I'm not going if Binnie's not going!" You had said all day. Eventually, your father had dragged you and your lunch to the car. You faced the window, looking for your mother when you caught sight of Soobin, head outside the window, trying to catch your attention. You rolled down the windows and waved at Soobin, a bright smile on your face. "Y/N!!!! I'M SICK SO I CAN'T COME TO SCHOOL TODAY!" Soobin screams with all his power. "I KNOWW MY MOM TOLD ME!" You shout back. "GET SOME REST OKAY MY MOM SAID IF YOU REST YOU WON'T GET SICK EASILY!" Soobin nodded. "OKAY Y/N!! HAVE FUN AT SCHOOL!!" He shouted, and you smiled. You waved goodbye, and that was the first time you fell in love.

➵ two Y/N stood in the middle of the room, leaning against a table. It was a pretty crowded party that Soobin had dragged her to, she always resisted but Soobin would always force her anyways. Soobin carried 2 drinks to Y/N, smiling widely. "Y/N! It's a fun one, isn't it?" Soobin asks, already chugging down one drink. "No, it isn't actually. But lemme take a drink." She says, taking a cup and drinking it. It was salty and burned her throat, she enjoyed it. "Hey Soobin and girlfriend of Soobin, come, we're playing games in the living room." A boy said, approaching the duo. "Yeonjun. She isn't my girlfriend." Soobin says, frowning. Soobin takes your head under his armpit and pats your head. "Bin- stop it-" You say, giggling. "This little shit is my best friend," Soobin says, nodding. You eventually pout and ignore him. "Ah, well, Best friend and Soobin, let's play games, hm?" The boy, Yeonjun, asks. Soobin glances at you, asking for your opinion. You let out a simple shrug and he nods. "She's tired. We're going home." Soobin says, taking your waist and carrying you. Soobin knew you too well, he knew your mannerisms and everything else. "CHOI SOOBIN- LET ME DOWN THIS INSTANT-" You shout, kicking and flailing around. Yeonjun looks at both of you in an awkward way before walking away. Soobin laughs and starts carrying you out the door, making you pout and flail around. "You're lucky I saved you there, Princess Y/N," Soobin says, putting her down. She flips her hair and laughs. "Let's go. Before your parents slander me." Soobin says, offering his hand. She accepts giddily and they both walk home together, hand in hand.

➵ three Y/N stared at the hospital bed tears running down her eyes as the hospital staff started cleaning up the bed. Y/N couldn't feel anything, her face was numb from the tears and her fingers felt as if they weren't even there. Her mother was away, not even knowing that her father had died. Y/N had no one, and Y/N hated that feeling. As more tears started spouting, Soobin's comforting hand wrapped around her shoulder. Yeah, Soobin was there. As soon as he had heard the news of Y/N's father's accident, he had rushed to Y/N's side. Her father had already treated Soobin like his very own child, so Soobin was sad aswell. Soobin had a few tears as well but seeing Y/N broken was the thing he hated the most. Y/N started crying into his chest again, and Soobin could only stroke her head, trying to soothe her. "I'm so sorry, Y/N," Soobin whispered, kissing your head as you cried. He would eventually be there for every stage of sadness Y/N had.

➵ four Soobin was nervously waiting outside of the university building, tapping his hand. Today Y/N would present her start-up business to over 500 investors in part of a start-up competition. Y/N's been preparing all month, with sleepless nights and hungry days. Soobin had been accompanying Y/N every day, helping her with food, helping her present, and most importantly, having fun. Y/N came out of the building, a laptop bag in her hand and a frown on her face. Soobin was about to cheer but then realized that she wasn't that happy. Soobin approached Y/N in a frenzy, anger on his face. "WHO WAS IT?? I'LL GO BEAT THEM UP-" Soobin shouted, ready to storm in the building. Y/N awkwardly tried to hold him back, giggling and shouting. "SOOBIN LISTEN- I GOT IN-" Y/N shouted, and Soobin paused. "You- you what?-" Soobin stuttered, looking at her, eyes panicked. "I got in. They liked my idea, Bin." Y/N said, laughing. Soobin sighed in relief, throwing his head back. "THEN WHY'D YOU COME OUT ALL TEARY-EYED DUMBASS?!" Soobin shouted, causing some people to stare. Y/N laughed, trying to shush Soobin. "I wanted to see your reaction, of course," Y/N said, giggling. "You dumb bitch!" Soobin said before wrapping you in a hug. A nice, warm hug. He pulled away before kissing you. You panicked for a second, before finally leaning into the kiss. He finally pulled away, his cheeks red. "Uhm-" He muttered before actually running away. Y/N's mouth was gaping open. "CHOI SOOBIN GET BACK HERE-" You shouted, running after him.

➵ five You woke up in Soobin's dorm room, disheveled. You were only in your underwear and bra, and it was very, very cold. "Holy fuck." You said as you covered your body. Soobin was in a band with his friends- so that was going well. You enjoyed Beomgyu was a babbler definitely so that was a minus. Other than that, it was nice resting with the boys. You just didn't expect to be waking up naked. Soobin must have taken your clothes off when you were asleep. You stood up slowly, wrapping the blanket around yourself. You definitely didn't wanna pass Taehyun, he was literally sleeping with his eyes open. You picked up a hoodie from the floor and recognized it as Soobin's. You put it on yourself quickly before heading out the door. The hoodie was extremely oversized so it reached your knees. You peek around, looking for Soobin. "Binnie!!" You shout, looking for him. Suddenly, a 'boo!' noise came from behind you. You yelp and jump, turning around. Of course it was Soobin. You rolled your eyes. "Hey, baby." Soobin said, laughing. You walk around, looking for the bathroom. "Give me my clothes then I'll head out of here. I know you have practice soon." You say, finally spotting the mirror. Soobin nods as he follows you around like a lost cat. Soobin put his head on your shoulder, wrapping his arms around you as you begin to brush your teeth. "Look how far we've come." Soobin mutters, looking at the mirror. You giggle and you just ignore him.

➵ six You were dressed in a small and comfortable onesie, watching your favorite show. "COME ON DELILAH JUST MARRY HIM ALREADY." You shouted in frustration. "Hello dear." Soobin's light voice called out. You waved shortly at your boyfriend before focusing back on the TV. Soobin was back home from another performance and he was itching for cuddles. "What you watching baby?" Soobin asks as he kisses your cheek from behind. "Y'know what I'm watching," You said. "I have an idea, baby." Soobin randomly says as he sits next to you. "What if we get married?" Soobin whispers into your ear. It took a while for you to process this, but you paused the tv show. "Us? Married?-" Your cheeks went red. "Bin, I mean- that would be nice- but are you sure? It's permanent, you'll be stuck to me for life." You said, chuckling. Soobin chuckles and he sits on the floor on one knee. "I don't mind. Will you marry me?" Soobin asks, taking out a ring from his pocket. Your breath hitches. "Holy fuck."

➵ seven Soobin stood from across the room nervously. The other boys were staring at Soobin in awe, giggling and laughing a bit. Soon, a figure came from the other side of the room. It was her. She was in a white gown that hugged her curves perfectly, and there were a heap of flowers in her hands. Everyone stood up, and Soobin was just in awe. "You look perfect." Soobin mouths and Y/N let out a tiny snort. "Shut the fuck up Choi Soobin." She mouths back and Soobin smiles.

➵ eight Soobin smiled at the presence of his god-daughter, Emily in his office. "HEYYY ITS EMILYY!" Soobin shouts, reaching for the blonde toddler. "Ah, I'm sorry Soobin! She just went in here and ran away from me!" You said, your hair a mess and vomit all over your clothes. "Aish, how are we gonna have a baby if you can't even take care of a toddler," Soobin said, laughing. "BITCH YOU CAN'T EVEN TAKE CARE OF MY DOG!" You said, slapping his head. "AIYA-" Soobin frowned. "Hey, look at that." Soobin noticed a picture, a small photo album on the back of the photo frame. "Hm?" You asks, busy talking to Emily. "It's a photo album we made when we got married." Soobin says, reaching for it. He opened it and his mouth dropped open. You looped her arms around Soobin's neck, also watching. "Look. Here's us when we were 6." Soobin pointed to a photo of you hugging Soobin. "Ooh, is that the party at Yeonjun's place?" You asked, pointing to one where they were drinking. "Hey, isn't that me when I finally launched my business?" You pointed to a photo of her wearing a suit. "And there's me hanging out with the boys." Y/N pointed to a photo of them at a pool. "When we got married. Ooh, and when we got Emily." You giggled. You were now enveloped in a heap of memories, and you ended up cuddling. "I love you so much. We've come so far, hm?" Soobin whispered. "I love you so much, Binnie." You replied.

#choi soobin #soobin #soobin imagines #txt #tommorrow x together #txt imagines #soobin fluff #soobin angst #txt fluff #txt angst #kpop #kpop imagines #kpop fluff #imagines #oneshots #fluff #chaotictsukkiwrites

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finnyboywolfhard · 3 years

Text

Song That The Morning Brings (Chapter Twenty Two)

Steve Harrington x Henderson!Reader

catch up here

summary: the gang hatch a plan to escape the russian base and a secret is let out.

warnings: cursing, fluff, angst, violence, spoilers ig

word count: 4.4k

Y/N climbed her way out first, glancing around the room. Glass cases surround the room, all of which are brimming with canisters of the green liquid. She kept muttering to herself, wondering what the hell it was and cursing some obscenities for the situation she was in. She helped Erica and Dustin out a bit, watching as their eyes looked at everything around them. They all took a moment to look around the room a few times over, scanning for something that would help them. Dustin starts to chuckle a bit, and scurries over to a nearby wall. Both Erica and Y/N follow him over to where one of the little red carts was.

“Do you even know how to drive?” Erica asked Dustin.

“No, he doesn’t. But I do.” Y/N watched as Dustin attempted to turn the key and start the engine.

“You seriously thought they’d just leave keys in there?” Erica pointedly asked Dustin. Y/N agreed with the young girls dumbfounded tone. It was a naïve idea on Dustin’s behalf.

“There’s gotta be a spare.” Dustin said started to search around the cart looking for it. Y/N stays with Dustin at the cart, however she starts to examine it. She looks in the back of the cart and then she looks at some of the walls, shelves and floors around her. She was searching desperately for anything that would help them. Realistically, she had no idea what she was looking for. Maybe a way out, maybe a weapon, maybe the keys to get the hell out.

“Hey guys?”

“Yeah?” Dustin replied for the two.

“How big did you say that Demogorgon was?” Y/N felt her stomach drop. She stood straight up and could only vaguely hear what the other two were saying.

“Big, nine feet or so. Why?” Dustin replied to Erica’s question. All he got was silence in return, this freaked Y/N out a bit, why didn’t she answer? The sound of something unlocking shook her from her daze.

“Holy shit, Dustin.” She said as she saw him opening up a vault where multiple keys were stored, specifically for the cart. “Erica, He found them…” her words trailed off as she turned to look at Erica and she wasn’t there. “Erica?” A loud zapping noise came from behind them, causing the two to leap around in fright.

“What the hell is that?” Dustin screamed toward the smaller girl.

“A deadly weapon, could be useful.” She pressed the button to bring the zap back once more.

“For what?”

“What do you think? Taking down commies, saving your friends.”

“Thought you were more realistic than that, nerd.” Y/N replied, “Besides, we don’t even know where they are.”

“I mean, even if we did, there are a million guards up there with weapons way deadlier than that.” Dustin continued off of his sisters thought. “The best thing we can do for them is get out of here and find help.” This broke Y/N's heart. What if they went and got help, but it was entirely too late? “Our chance of surviving and theirs, rises substantially. Just trust me on this, please?” he pleaded with Erica, and also his sister in a way. He looked to his sister to start and drive the cart. She hesitantly did so, scared for what they might run into.

They drove for a bit, trying desperately to navigate where to go, with each turn Y/N took she felt more and more helpless. Until she heard shouts in the distance. She turned the engine off and sat for a moment, hearing an ear piercing scream come from Steve. She turned the key back and pressed the pedal to the metal.

“Y/N! What are you doing? We need to get them help, not to get them.”

“Dustin, I love you but you just heard that too. That could not have been good, and if I lose him because I went to get help…” She started saying before tears threatened to spill.

“Let’s go.” Dustin said from next to her. She continued to drive near where the screams and shouts were coming from. On quick thinking, she turned around and went back to the room filled with the mysterious green substance. She had each of them grab a few.

“Listen to me, we’re gonna go near an entrance and we’re gonna smash them all, create a distraction. Then, we’ll go grab them and get the hell out.”

“Are you sure that’s gonna work?” Erica piped in for the first time in a bit.

“No, but I think it’s worth a shot.” They loaded up the goo and she went to where she could hear the most voices. She had them all toss them out onto the floor, making sure that they shattered. Once one did, a chain reaction started. Guards started to notice the ruckus, and she got out of there as quick as she could. Once back inside the maze of hallways, she listened for the familiar voices of Steve and Robin, and tried desperately to remember where the sound came from. She heard Steve’s chuckle a few rooms down. She didn’t know what took over but she whipped around a corner once the alarm started blaring, signaling all of the men to the source of the alarm. She saw the room ahead. She stopped the cart and turned the engine off, rushing to get out and into the room. Dustin takes the weapon from Erica’s hands and charges into the room with it already turned out. He lets the weapon shock the man in front of Steve for a long time before eventually stopping as the man was seizing on the floor. Y/N immediately got to work on the ropes that were tying them together. She could barely see either of their faces, but she knew she needed to get them out of these first. Once the knots were undone, she looked up at Steve.

“Stevie, your face.” It was the worst it’s been after a fight yet. Blood was stained against his face, with fresh blood coating the top. There was blood soaked into the uniform across his chest.

“Hey! Y/N! I was just talking about you.”

“Get ready to run. Both of you” Y/N said looking up at the two sitting in front of her. She got them completely undone and reached out her hand to help him up. He was stumbling a bit, but she thought he might just be concussed. “Come on! We gotta get out of here.” She helped Dustin and Erica load the two gangly teenagers into the back of the cart. Y/N got into the driver’s seat once again, and began maneuvering her way out immediately.

“Jesus! Slow down!” Steve yelled from the back.

“Yeah! What is this? Is it the Indy 500?” Robin quipped up alongside Steve.

“It’s the Indy 300.” Steve corrected her.

“No dingus! It’s 500!”

“It’s 300!”

“Let’s say a million!” Robin responded once more. The two both started uproariously laughing at that mediocre joke. Y/N couldn’t help but turn around to peer through the grate at the two in the back. Something was up with them.

“What is wrong with them?” Erica yelled.

“I don’t know!” Y/N responded in a scared voice.

“Y/N, watch out!” Y/N let her worry get the better of her as she crashed the cart into a bunch of the same metal barrels Steve knocked guards over with earlier. Everyone slammed forward, the two in the back causing the metal grate to reverberate sound. Groans filled the stale air.

“You guys alright back there?” Dustin asked nonchalantly. The three upfront grabbed the two from the back despite their desperate protests to stay back there. Y/N was attempting to stabilize them as they were walking. Dustin walked over and used the keycard to open the elevator. They all climbed aboard, except Y/N was worried about her two coworkers. With one more swipe, the elevator began hoisting itself upwards to the surface once again. Robin and Steve were goofing around on some of the trolleys that were in the elevator. They couldn’t stop laughing.

“You look like you’re surfing!” Robin shouted directly to Steve.

“Woah! Yeah!” He said, trying to emulate the motions of surfing more extravagantly.

“They seem drunk.” Erica said.

“Why would they be drunk?” Dustin asked in response.

“This certainly isn’t as simple as drunk.” Y/N said dismissing both of their responses. She gets cut off by Steve falling off the trolley into a bunch of boxes. She immediately ran over to him, her brother following closely behind.

“Stevie, oh my god.” Y/N let the words fall from her mouth. Dustin laid his hand across Steve’s forehead.

“He’s burning up.”

“You’re burning up.” Steve slurred back. Dustin started examining other parts of Steve’s face, especially looking deep into his eyes. Steve kept trying to squirm away and whispered no, but Dustin just proceeded.

“His pupils are super dilated.” Dustin exclaimed towards both Y/N and Erica.

“Maybe he’s drugged.” Erica responded out. Steve’s hand came forward towards Y/N’s face.

“Boop!” Steve said after touching his finger to her nose.

“Stevie, are you and Robin drugged?”

“How many times dad? Y/N and I don’t do drugs, it’s only marijuana.” Steve let out in response. The girl cringed at the fact that he just said that aloud. Dustin took quick glances to both Steve and Y/N, while her shoulders tensed up and her face became scrunched.

“This isn’t funny okay, We need to know what they did to you.” Dustin demanded Steve. “Are you gonna die on us?”

“Boop!” Steve once again tapped Y/N’s nose, ignoring Dustin’s question completely. From the other corner, Robin finally spoke again.

“We all die, my strange little child friend. It’s just a matter of how and when.” She smiled towards Dustin, twirling her hair while she said it.

“They’re gonna be looking for us up there, so I need you to tell me where you parked your car.”

“Oh, can we make a pit stop at the food court?” Steve and Robin discussed food for a second.

“Wait! My car! Um, the keys are in Scoops I think.”

“We’re not gonna have time to go there and get out, we need his keys.” He turned away from Y/N and back to Steve. “yes, you can have as much food as you want, but only if you tell where your car is parked.”

“Uh-Oh!” Steve said in a sad manner.

“What do you mean uh-Oh?” Y/N asked gently.

“The car’s off the board.” Dustin responded with a what and Steve continued, “they took the keys. The Russians, they took the keys.” Steve started messing around with his pockets, showing how empty they were. Both Steve and Robin start laughing at the misfortune once again. “That’s a bummer right?”

Erica, Dustin and Y/N share a few looks before attempting to get the other two off of the floor so they can get the hell out of the elevator. The only problem was the next course of action. As they walked into the fresh air, robin began cheering out.

“Oh my god! That tastes so good!” The girl began to lap up the air with her tongue. “Steve, can you taste the air?” Not long after the boy joined her in eating the air. They start walking towards the exit gate when multiple armed men start walking into it. Dustin turns everyone around, and they wrangle the two drugged ones. They race into the mall, once inside Dustin leads them all into the movie theater to hide.

“Where are we going?” Erica yells to him.

“Just trust me!” The group sneaks into the complex and then into a theater showing Back to The Future. No one even noticed when Steve grabbed a bag of popcorn right from the trash can. The movie is playing on the big screen, just as Dustin drags Steve and Robin to open seats in the front row. He turns to his sister and says,

“You sit here with them, make sure nothing happens.” She takes on the job with her complete energy. Him and Erica disappear to the other side of the theater. Y/N watched as the two stared at the screen with glazed over eyes and open mouthed smiles. They were transfixed. Even all bloodied up and bruised, Steve was still the most attractive man she had ever seen. However, the rush of having to pee came into her system fast and hard. She hadn’t even noticed that she hasn’t peed in nearly two days. She turned to the two beside her.

“Do not move. I will be right back, I have to pee.”

“Okay, Y/N/N we won’t.” Steve replied with an overbearing softness.

“Yeah Y/N/N, we won’t!” Robin repeated Steve.

The girl found her way out of the theater without being seen and ran right to the bathroom. She sat down on the toilet and let it all out. She put her uniform back on, and then sat down again. She needed a moment of peace. A break from the hecticness of the evening. She took a few deep breaths before she heard the door slam against the walls and multiple footsteps running in. Soon enough she heard retching in the stalls beside her. She ran out of her stall and saw both Steve and Robin throwing up. She ran beside Robin to hold her hair back. The two puked for a bit before both of their nausea dissipated. She stayed silent, letting them have a few moments to breath and relax from what just happened. She stood up and walked to sit against the wall outside of the stall. Robin sprawled herself out on the floor and Steve sat comfortably against the toilet.

“The ceiling stopped spinning for me.” Robin broke the silence. “Is it still spinning for you?”

“Holy shit, no.” Steve replied out.

“Do you guys think you puked it all up?” Y/N asked them, gauging how they were doing.

“Maybe, ask me something.” Robin said in a calm tone. “Interrogate me.”

“Okay, interrogate you, sure.” Steve said, sounding more like him by the second. “When was the last time you peed your pants?”

“Today.” She let out blankly.

“What?”

“When the Russian doctor took out the bone saw.” They both started giggling, and Y/N joined in as well without even realizing it. “It was just a little bit though!” Robin said through laughter.

“Yeah, it’s definitely still in her system.” Steve said rubbing his eyes.

“Alright! My turn!”

“Okay, hit me.”

“Have you…” Robin pulls in a harsh breath, “Ever been in love?” Y/N’s whole body tensed. She didn’t want to hear this. She didn’t want to hear that he had only ever loved Nancy and that he didn’t love her as well. Even if he did, he wouldn’t say it right now would he? Y/N adjusted the way she was sitting, in case she had to get up and leave in the middle of his answer.

“Uhh, yeah, I have. Twice.”

“Twice?” Y/N spoke back.

“First, Nancy Wheeler, first semester, senior year.” He fakes a gun shot sound as he points his hand to his chest. This is what she was waiting for. This was the pain she knew she would feel.

“Oh, my god. She’s such a priss.”

“Turns out, not really.” Steve added dully.

“She’s actually kinda badass.” Y/N adds in.

“Are you still in love with Nancy?” Robin asked. ‘Yes.’ Y/N thought to herself.

“No. I’m not.” Y/N felt her whole body tense. No?

“Why not?”

“I realized that I’ve been in love with someone longer. It just took me too long to realize it. You see, there’s this girl. And we had a falling out for a bit. But then, she came back in my life full swing. She’s so smart, and funny, and strong. She’s so gorgeous. Dustin keeps telling me to find my Suzie.”

“Who is Suzie?”

“This girl from camp, I guess she’s his girlfriend. Anyway, I don’t think I need to find her. I already did. She just…She’s different and I fucked it up the first time. But there was this night back in December where it just clicked. She’s the only one who has ever believed in me, and I love her so much.”

Y/N thought back to the night of the snowball. She thought back to the moments they were talking about what happened between the two of them, and how they reconnected.

“I’ve apologized for what I said. I don’t even know why I said it. Maybe I thought that it would snap you back to reality. Even then, I didn’t hate you. I don’t think I’ll ever hate you. I believe in you too much.” Y/N wrapped her arms around herself and waited for his response.

“You’re the only one who ever has.” Steve said quietly.

It didn’t take a genius to realize who Steve was talking about, but rather than face it now, Steve instead said, “What about you Robin?” She didn’t answer Steve at first, rather she tucked her face between her legs. “Robin? Did you just OD in there?” Steve said from the other side of the stall. Steve slid down under the stall to sit across from her and Y/N moved closer to the stall.

“The floors disgusting.” Robin finally spoke again.

“Yeah, well, I’ve already got a bunch of blood and puke on me so.”

“Rob? Have you ever been in love?” Y/N asked, setting her hand on Robin’s shoulder.

“Maybe not love, but really strong like.” She spoke quietly.

“Who is it?”

“Do you remember what I said about Clicks class? About me being jealous and like, obsessed?” Y/N looked between Robin and Steve, clearly missing a piece of the puzzle. She knew that they had had that class with one another, but she couldn’t figure out where this was going. Steve shakes his head.

“It isn’t because I had a crush on you.” Robin takes a breath, trying to calm down her nerves which were clearly skyrocketing. “It’s because…she wouldn’t stop staring at you.” Y/N felt her whole body go still, Robin was coming out to them. She was endlessly proud and happy for Robin that she was letting it all out.

“Mrs. Click?” Steve asked, almost causing Y/N to laugh, but she stopped herself and let Robin take over once more.

“Tammy Thompson.” Robin let out in a hushed sentence. Y/N let her hand go to grab Robin’s, giving it a soft squeeze, to show that she was there for her. “I wanted her to look at me. But she couldn’t pull her eyes away from you and your stupid hair.” This caused Y/N to let out a soft laugh. “And I didn’t understand because you would get bagel crumbs all over the floor. And you asked dumb questions. And you were a douchebag! And you didn’t even like her and … I would go home and just scream into my pillow.” Robin finally concluded her story. Steve still had a confused look on his face.

“But Tammy Thompson’s a girl.” He said in return.

“Steve.” Robin whispered and looked into his eyes, yet he still looked confused.

“Yeah?”

“Stevie…” Y/N said at the same whisper and inflection. That’s when it clicked for him.

“Oh…” He sat for a second, as she repeated the word. “Holy shit.”

“Yeah, holy shit.” The three sat in awkward silence for a moment, all thinking about the confessions that were left on the table.

“Steve, did you OD over there?” Robin asked, reciting his joke from earlier.

“No, I just, uh- just thinking.”

“What’re you thinking about?” Y/N asked him.

“I mean, yeah. Tammy Thompson, you know, she’s cute and all, but…I mean…she’s a total dud.” Steve spoke out. Y/N cracked a smile for that one, noticing Robin’s quick defenses.

“She is not.”

“Yes she is! She wants to be like a singer. She wants to move to like Nashville and shit.”

“She has dreams!” Robin said in attempts to defend her again.

“Except she can’t even hold a tune! She’s basically tone deaf. She can barely sing without sounding like…like…” Y/N said, trying desperately to think of what she sounded like. Steve began mocking how she sings, Y/N joining in. Robin started laughing telling both of them to shut up.

“She doesn’t sound like that!”

“She sounds exactly like that.”

“We were doing a great impression of her.” Y/N said applauding her and Steve’s imitation.

“You both sounded like muppets!”

“That’s it! She sounds like a muppet!” Y/N said, finally completing her thought from earlier.

“She sounds like a muppet giving birth!” Steve exclaimed as well. The three all started laughing before Steve started the song once again to mock Tammy’s awful voice. They were cut off from their laughter and singing by Dustin slamming the door open and storming into the bathroom.

“Okay! What the hell!” Dustin shouted at them. All three of them started laughing once more, unable to take Dustin seriously after what just happened.

“Calm down Dusty, I went pee and then they came in and threw up. I have been taking care of them and I made sure I wasn’t seen. It’s okay, I promise.”

“Well we need to get out of here and fast or else they will find us.”

“The movie is probably almost over, let’s just get out then.” Robin said, trying to calm Dustin down a bit.

They surrounded the door, leaning against one another in attempts to see when the crowd was leaving the theater. A swarm of people started to exit the theater doors.

“And…blend.” Dustin said leaving the bathroom. The rest of the group immersed themselves in the crowd, trying to look as normal as possible. They kept up the pace of the rest of the crowd her were swiftly approaching the exit.

“Well, shit. That worked.” Erica stated, clearly not thinking it was going to.

“Of course it worked.” Dustin’s voice was laced with confidence. “We just have to get on the bus with the rest of these plebes, and home sweet home here we come.” Y/N was excited at the thought of all of this being over, at least for a night. She knew that it was never gonna be fully over seeing as they were opening the gate, but that was a problem for tomorrow. A problem for after sleep.

“Uh, Dustin?” Steve said just as Y/N was about to say something.

“What?”

“We might not want to go to your guys’ house.”

“And why is that?” Y/N said voice laced with concerns.

“Well, I might have told them Dustin’s full name.”

“You did what?” Y/N said, voice rising a bit higher than she should’ve.

“What is wrong with you?”

“Dude! I was drugged.” Steve said in attempts to find some innocence.

“So?”

“So?” “SO you resist! You tough it out. You tough it out like a man.” Dustin claimed.

“Dusty, how would you even know how to tough it out like a man?” Y/N mocked her little brother.

“Seriously, that’s easy for you to say.” Steve said trying to defend himself. Y/N could tell that he was getting a little worked up. He had the tendency to do that with Dustin, they would bicker and get heated. Y/N was usually the mediator, and more than likely in charge of calming them both down.

“Guys?” Robin spoke up from the other side of the pack, her voice filled with concern. She grabbed Dustin and Erica and pulled them back gently. Y/N and Steve stopped in their tracks as they noticed what she did. Standing only a few feet in front of them there was a few of the Russian men checking ID’s and asking people questions as they were leaving. There would be no way that they could get past them.

“Abort.” Dustin spoke, slightly too loud. The man looked over and noticed the group standing there. Fear flooded through each and every single one of their bodies. The group started to slowly back away from the crowd, in attempts to get themselves away from the Russian guards blocking the exit.

“Abort! Abort!” Dustin kept yelling to the group. Robin led the way, weaving through all of the people trying to find somewhere to go. They all ran to the escalators, thinking maybe they could find a way out from down there.

“Shit.” Steve whispered yelled right behind Y/N. They got to the escalators and they were turned off and roped off.

“Uh, okay.” Robin said in a fearful tone. Her language was becoming sparse and scared, something none of them had heard from Robin yet. Steve looked back and saw the men finding their way through the crowd just the same as they had. Y/N looked over to him, seeing it in his face how truly scared her was. But her attention was pulled away by Robin going down the center of the escalator like a slide.

“Okay, come on, let’s go!” Steve said, rushing everyone to do the same. One by one they flung themselves down the makeshift slide. They all rushed to hide behind the counter of The Great Cookie. Once hidden, they could hear the guards speaking thick Russian into their walkies. Every second felt like it was one second closer to death. The men’s footsteps were very prominent. The thick black boots they were wearing essentially pounded against the floor. Suddenly, one of the men’s voice was heard far closer than it had yet.

Y/N instinctively grabbed for both Steve and Dustin’s hands, clutching them both as if it was the last time she was doing so. Her breathing became unsteady and inconsistent. They had been found and there was no way that they could escape this. The guards footsteps took on a synchronized pattern as they stepped closer and closer to the counter they were behind. Everyone jumped as the sound of a car alarm started wailing in the court. It was going crazy, drawing the attention away from the hidden group. The car was bouncing and honking, it was uncontrollable and an out of this world phenomenon. The car flew across the food court, knocking down the guards as it flung across. All of the men, knocked cold and presumably dead. The group rises up slowly from behind the counter, Y/N still clutching one of Steve’s hands. Their eyes slowly panned around to look at the men on the floor, the still rattling, yet torn off cap, to the car that was now overturned and finally up to the balcony where the party was standing as well as Jonathan and Nancy. Smiles of relief took over Dustin and Y/N’s face.

taglist: @mochminnie @queen1054 @prettysbliss @voidnarnia

#steve harrington #steve harrington x reader #steve harrington fanfic #steve harrington x you #stranger things x reader #stranger things x y/n

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thedc-verse · 4 years

Text

Spreading The Love (Harrison “Harry” Wells x Reader x HR Wells)

Summary HR, Reader and Harry wake up in the same bed.

Warning: F-Bomb, implied sex, swearing, talk about sex

Note: Found some old request that I thought I had posted. Sorry it's taking me 500 years. Shits happened. Also I'm considering writting for Supergirl and Batwoman. I know I've been mostly flash and DC Lot but I'm finally expanding... Slowly.... I'm sorry... I wish I was more active. I genuinely do. 💔.

________

You're not sure how it happened but you, Harry, and HR had woken up in the same bed. Your bed. You would have never known the two men were laying next to you in your queen-sized bed had it not been for the loud crack of thunder that awoke you that morning. The rumble was explosive, setting off car alarms all down the streets of Central City. The thunder waking you with a jolt, you sat straight up momentarily confused by your abrupt consciousness. When you fully grasped at what happened you heard a small yet clear groan from the floor, you had managed to knock Harry out of bed. Not a moment later HR stirred. "Harry?" You asked confusedly. "Why are you in my house?" He sat up still on the floor, he looked past you at a sleepy HR. "HR?" He asked now even more confused. You raised a brow and followed his line of sight. Your eyes widened at the shirtless HR. "What the f-" Lightning truck the ground outside your window. With the momentary burst of light, you noticed the rest of HR was just as bare.

Quickly turning away from him you look at Harry, also naked and exposed you averted your gaze. Quickly you clutched your sheets to your chest but it was no use. Your chest had been exposed far too long to leave anything to the imagination. The three of you sat for a moment, no one spoke or looked at each other. You panicked, trying to recall any of last night, but it was as if last night hadn't occurred. As if you all had the same idea at once, which you most likely did, you all stood up ignoring each other and start searching for your clothes. The awkwardness was unbearable.

“How did this happen?” Harry grunted as he grabbed his pants and slipped his right leg in them. You tried to turn on the lamp but nothing came on. The electricity must have gone out. You couldn't see well and you didn't want to walk across the room to get new clothes while naked.

Moonlight shining threw your bedroom window was the only source of light. You finally found your shirt on the floor. It was almost completely under the bed. “Psst.” HR whispered. "Hey," He whispered a little louder to get Harry’s attention from the other side of the bed. He had put on his shirt and scarf and now held up a pair of pants in his right hand. “Harry.” He whispered again. “What!” Harry snapped breaking the trend of whispering. “Those are my pants.” He pointed to Harry who had the jeans halfway up his legs. “What?” Harry paused his movements. “These are yours.” HR raised his hand that held the pants. "Harry well that makes sense. I knew these were too tight." Harry glanced down at his legs contemplating if he should take off the skinny jeans. “. . . Fuck it.” He shrugged pulling the jeans up to his waist. His double watched slightly surprised, after all, Harry did hate skinny jeans. Once Harry zipped up the pants HR shrugged putting on the more breathable pants.

”What happened to your face?” Harry asked finally looking at him. “What happened to yours?” HR retorted seeing the black around his eye. You pulled your shirt over your head before reaching further under your bed and blindly slapping your hand around until you felt a familiar plastic handle. You smiled to yourself pulling out your camping lantern and turning it on, your loft glowed insignificantly brighter. You frowned slightly remembering it was brighter during the last blackout.

“What the hell happened?” Harry whisper-yelled at HR. “Me? What makes you think I know?” Hr placed a hand over his chest defensively. “Because whenever something goes wrong it's usually your fault!” Harry argued, to this HR rolled his eyes, shifting so his back faced Harry. 'They act more like brothers then doppelgangers.' You thought with a sigh as you grabbed your pants. The two men bickered as you put on your pants. You were getting a headache from all this chaos. You rubbed your temples as you walked downstairs. “This is ridiculous, Harry. I did nothing wrong.” You heard HR protesting voice fade as you made your way down the steps.

'No, what’s ridiculous is waking up in bed with two men, or was it one? Same man different bodies. . . I need an aspirin.' Walking into the kitchen section and opening the fridge you grab a water bottle. As you opened the medicine cabinet you made a mental note to reorganize it. "What a mess." You grumbled finally finding the aspirin. You heard quick footsteps come down the stairs as you swallowed the capsule. You glanced at the clock on your stove curiously. The clock was blacked out. "Great..."

“So I’m guessing you don’t remember last night either?” HR asked entering the kitchen. “Not really... All I know is that the three of us must have had sex . . .” You squinted at them not liking how that sounded. Nor sure if that was the best way to word it. "I mean doppelgangers are technically the same person... so was it actually a three-way?" Harry averted his gaze to stare at the floor, hand rubbing the back of his neck. "Well yes and no..." He trailed off. You handed placed both the aspirin bottle and your water on the countertop for them to use. HR wasted no time grabbing the medication and taking two tablets. He tried to hand the bottle to Harry but he pushed it away annoyed. “Gross. I’m not drinking after you.” He spat. You patted his shoulder tiredly. “No telling what you did last night. Just drink it.” You said heading to the couch. HR offered then now disturbed Harry the drink again. Harry glared at HR while he ripped the bottle from his hand harshly. He rolled his eyes as he drank from the bottle. After he finished his drink he opened the front door and left. HR grabbed his hat and followed after him.

________

You were running late. You overslept big time. 'I knew I shouldn't have tried to squeeze in a nap. I rest everything but the alarm clock. Smooth.' You scolded yourself. As you stepped onto the elevator your phone pinged.

New Message from Cisco: WHERE ARE YOU!!!!

"Oh great." You muttered hitting your floor on the elevator. You glanced at the clock as you typed a response back. 'Holy shit. 8:40. I'm two hours and forty minutes late. That's almost three hours! Three! That's way too many. Can I get fired? But I love this job! My friends wouldn't fire me, right? Barry is kind of too nice and a push over...No, of course, they wouldn't fire you. Just calm down. You're only freaking out because of what maybe-no-definitely happened last night...' You stepped off the elevator and headed to the Cortex.

As walked in you were greeted by Cisco. “Hey, Y/N," He said smiling cheerily as he slings an arm around your shoulder. "Let’s threesome this afternoon.” You stopped walking. “I’m sorry, what?” Barry, Caitlin, Harry, and HR turned around curiously. In doing so you could now fully see Harry's deep black eye and HR's bandaged up nose. “Let’s do something this afternoon?” Cisco repeated confusedly, his voice going high pitched as he let go of you. “Oh, No thanks I can barely stand.” You said walking to your desk. You placed your work files and laptop on the desk. “Why can you barely stand?” He asked rather loudly. You paused again, internally swearing, you glanced at the doubles before turning around to face the others fully.

HR suffocated on his coffee gasping for air at Cisco's words. Harry squinted questioningly at HR not sure why he had suddenly inhaled if favorite beverage. You saw the connection click in his eyes as they both turned to you. “How come I what?” You raised a brow, playing dumb. This time Barry spoke up. “You said you can barely stand. Why?” You glanced from Barry to Cisco to Barry. The speedster made a face as if asking, 'Are you gonna tell us?’ as he shrugged and crossed his arms over his chest. “No, I said I can barely stand... today. As in if I’m this tired now, how would I have any energy to do anything tonight. I'll tell you how." You pointed at them. "I won't. I’ll be dead asleep.” You laughed awkwardly. "Anyways we need to make up for the lost time. Barry, hurry up." You attempted to change the topic smoothly, but when Cisco opened his mouth to question you, you grabbed Barry's hand and dragged him out of the room.

You just wanted the day to be over and you would like as little questioning as possible. Even if you wanted to answer, which you didn't, you couldn't remember anything anyway. For all, you know the three of you decided the room was too hot, took off your clothes, and then passed out drunk. Maybe nothing happened and this would make for a funny story later. You think back to this morning. After the doppelgangers left without a word you sat on the couch for an hour trying to make any sense of the situation. Part of you wished you'd just stayed asleep, you'd have never known anything happened and life would be fine.

Once you had entered the speed lab Barry couldn't help but ask, “What was that about?” You glared at him as you took your position behind the monitor. “Just run.” He raised a brow curiously but did as he was told. While Barry was running you tried to focus on his speed but your mind kept drifting off. A few laps into the test you started to remember bits of last night. It flashed through your head so fast and on loop until the fragments made a story of what had actually happened the night before.

HR had shown up at the bar where yourself, Caitlin, and Cisco were drinking. He must have a bunch of coffee because he was talking way to fast to understand what he was saying. You honestly couldn't remember a word he said. You vaguely remember ordering a drink before Harry showed up. His hair was ruffled as if he'd been running, his cheeks were red and he was out of breath. His chest puffed in and out clearly taking deep breaths as he scanned the bar rapidly. He looked determined. His eyes met yours and then suddenly the three of you were at your loft. 'HR was kissing me or was it, Harry? . . . It was HR. He was wearing a scarf.' The three of you managed to get up the stairs without falling, 'I was laying on my bed and... HR and Harry got into a fight? What were they saying? Leave? Just tell her?' Tell me what?' HR pushed Harry onto the bed, his back hitting the mattress. They wrestled, Harry got on top for a brief second before HR flipped them over... 'Kind of looks like they were... oh god! Wait-! Where did Harry’s shirt go? Where are my pants? Harry’s pulling me to him...HR’s taking off his shirt behind Harry.

“/N. Y/N!” Barry yelled as he walked out of the track. “Are sure you're ok?" He asked. “I’m fine.” You huffed. You might not remember what happened after that but your body did. It was reacting in ways not safe for work. You crossed your legs instinctively.

________

It was now the end of the day and you had to work up the courage to get the work you left in the Cortex, which is where both HR and Harry would most likely be. When you walked in you were alone, the cortex being completely empty was rare so a quick beeline for your desk was suitable. No one around to question why you're in a hurry and you didn't want to waste this opportunity. HR popped out of nowhere, you flinched in surprise at his bright smiling appearance. Which at this point shouldn't be a surprise, showing up out of nowhere was his thing. “I remember.” His smile grew. “What?" Both you and Harry blurted. Jumping again at the sound of another voice entering the conversation. Your face flushed embarrassed your not a jumpy person but clearly, you were more on edge than you thought.

“You told me you didn’t remember,” Harry growled as he approached you both. “Well when you asked me if I remembered, I thought about it and it started coming back to me. I don’t see what the big deal is you almost died when you got your memory back. Muttering “I’d never do that.” and then you glared at me.” He shrugged. Your head snapped to Harry. “You remember? How much?”

“You say that like you want to know.” Harry scoffed turning to leave. “I remember how you got your black eye and how HR broke his nose.” You smirked crossing your arms over your chest. "How did either of you explain that to the others?" Harry turned to face you. His mouth opened but HR cut in. “And what happened next was quite a sight-” “Don’t!” Harry's voice cracked as held up a hand to his doubles mouth. “Oh, so you remember that too?” HR smirked, 'Since when did he smirk?'

“I’d rather not,” Harry grumbled as he stared at the floor. “So where does this leave us?” You asked. “What do you mean?” They asked in unison. “Aren’t we gonna piece the night back together, figure out what lead to this?” Harry glimpsed at the entrance. “It was a one night stand.” Harry deadpanned. "A one time mistake." He stated firmly before brushing past you.

You watched him leave.

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fandom-necromancer · 4 years

Text

1033. I don’t like the way they look at you.

This was prompted by the awesome @aurea-b and I... had fun XD Enjoy!

Fandom: Detroit become human | Ship: Reed900

‘Is there anything else I can bring you, Sirs?’, Gavin politely asked, while he disguised his search of any hint or piece of evidence as gathering empty glasses. ‘Hmm, that fancy android over there, if you don’t mind.’ Gavin hadn’t expected that answer and followed the finger of the man before him over to the central pole of the club. Of course… ‘I’m afraid we are not that kind of club, Sir.’ ‘How about a private dance then, beautiful?’ He had grabbed Gavin by the hand he was reaching for a glass with. ‘Sir, touching is prohibited in this club’, Gavin pressed through his teeth, trying his hardest not to snap and let his fist find its way right into his face. Although he had to play the clueless waiter, he knew exactly who was sitting there right in front of him: One of Detroit’s worst human traffickers. Until now they had only gotten a name, Andrew Jones, and the last sign of life of an android dancer. A message left behind before he had been abducted, just like countless others in his line of work. All androids. Most of them from this club.

The club Nines and Gavin were currently working at as undercover agents. Being the only other android-human partners of the precinct when Anderson couldn’t have played the “sexy waiter” even if he had been ten years younger, really was unfortunate. Gavin wouldn’t have described himself as that either, but apparently the manager of the club had decided otherwise. Nines on the other hand had simply downloaded some Tracy-programs and used his own to hack the application process.

Thankfully Jones let him go, although it had only been after a few beats of prolonged contact, just to show that he could. Oh, how Gavin longed for a fight with this stick of a man, mission be damned. ‘I’ll see what I can do, Sir.’ ‘Yeah, go see.’ Gavin turned around and tried to remember who else had sat in that booth with the criminal. Who were they? Costumers? Partners? Just friends? Whoever they were they requested a private dance from Nines, who was just stepping down from the pole to retreat backstage. They had their eyes on him and although that was generally a good thing because the android could figure out a lot more things if he was that near to them, it also was the first step to being kidnapped. The android they had gotten the message from had been selected for a private dance with this man and was never found again.

His worry seemed to show as he ducked behind the counter to unload the empty glasses, because Julia, the bartender looked him up and down. ‘Something happened?’ Gavin couldn’t let Nines’ cover be blown, even if the woman was trustworthy. So he simply said: ‘Over at table twelve, the guy touched me. Just the wrist, no big deal, but…’ ‘But it’s disgusting. Yeah, I understand. Should I get someone else to fetch their drinks?’ ‘Nah, no need. He wants a private dance with one of the dancers though. The rooms free at the moment?’ ‘They should be. Do you know who he wants?’ ‘The new one. Android, tall, -‘ ‘Exactly your type?’ Gavin looked at the woman shocked, but she just laughed. ‘Hey, I have eyes and I see how you look at him when you walk past. Don’t worry about me, I have no problems with relationships between co-workers. Just keep it private.’ Gavin swallowed. ‘Err… yeah…’ ‘Here!’ She pulled a few bottles of water from under the counter. ‘Bring that backstage and tell him. Tell him to be careful, too. I know people are disappearing and the police, as always, does jack shit about it.’ Gavin grinded his teeth at that, but nodded and took the package. ‘Oh and Gavin? I noticed he looked at you too, so good luck!’

He slipped past the curtain into the relative privacy of the changing compartments. Not that there were a lot of clothes to wear, just a lot of different outfits for different shows. He was on the lookout for Nines, what wasn’t too difficult as he spotted the tall android right from the door. Gavin sat the water bottles down at the entrance and hurried over. ‘Hey, Nines, you are- Ugh, Goddamn, put some clothes on, will ya?’ ‘Gavin, you saw me naked enough times, this is childish.’ ‘Yeah, well, they haven’t!’ He gestured to the rest of the room that was still very open. ‘Actually…’ ‘Okay, stop, they want you for a private dance.’ ‘Who?’, the android asked as he pulled some pants on – not really covering more than underwear would have. ‘Idiot. Our suspects of course.’ Gavin watched as Nines put on several glowing rings around his wrists and slowly adding more and more jewellery until he nearly wore more than clothes. ‘Oh! Perfect. Then this case is finally going somewhere.’ ‘I don’t like the way they look at you’, Gavin grumbled, leaning against the dressing table while Nines applied make-up and tested out new patterns with his artificial skin. His performance always consisted of some kind of display how synthetic he was. Retracting his skin and letting it reappear to the music, playing with how much he let the costumers see. With that he had made it one of the top attractions in record time and Gavin had to admit it was quite entrancing.

‘Oh, Gav, darling. It could have been the light, but I sensed you looked at me the same way.’ Nines looked up to him and smiled and though it was still alien to see him with make-up, he had to admit the android was absolutely beautiful. ‘Yeah, well, I don’t plan to abduct you and sell you to the highest bidder!’ ‘Really? And here I thought romance was dead.’ Gavin threw him a warning look. ‘Oh, come on, Gavin. I’m the most advanced model there is. Fowler installed more trackers inside me than Cyberlife did. If I get abducted this will finally put an end to innocent people getting sold off. Really, in this example the worst case is the best-case scenario.’ ‘For the mission maybe. But for you? What if they find out we’re cops and decide to kill you?’ ‘Gav, you worry too much. If anything goes wrong, then I still have you looking out for me, haven’t I, love?’ He reached up to Gavin’s shoulders to pull him into a kiss, before standing up. ‘I’ll get ready for it; you can show them to room four. I’ll reset the bugs there.’ ‘Okay. Stay safe.’ ‘Will do.’

Gavin went back behind the bar to get the keys for the room, before stopping in front of Julia’s grinning face. ‘What is it?’ ‘Oh, nothing… Just that I was right, wasn’t it? Ah, you two go so well together! You definitely have to tell me more when your shift’s over! Now hurry! Back to work!’ On the way back to the booth, Gavin rubbed his mouth with his sleeve. Damn black lipstick…

‘Ah, our beautiful waiter is back! And, what about that private dance?’ Gavin couldn’t look the man in the eyes, as he jingled with the keys. ‘If the sirs would follow me to room four? Your dancer is waiting.’ Jones hurried to come to his feet, urging his partners to stand up too. Gavin waited until they were up to lead the way. He entered the room and as everyone was in, Nines appeared, walking overly seductively towards them. Gavin felt bile rising up seeing him cupping Jones’ cheek in fake affection. ‘Now, gentlemen, what can I do for you today?’, he cooed, and Gavin pulled the door closed.

He carried drinks and empty glasses back and forth and looked on his watch every few minutes. They had booked an hour, had paid wirelessly over Nines hooked up to the club’s systems. It was the longest hour in Gavin’s life and no matter how that would set back the mission, he hoped for Nines to just get out of there and their suspect leaving. The worst was not knowing. The bugs they had installed were record only. Transmissions to an outside source could have been detected. So, it was only ten minutes after their time had ended and no one had exited, that Gavin knew something was wrong. The thought appeared the same time Nines message came in. Gavin. Get a car. Something went wrong. Your phone is set to navigate you to me. We are driving.

Immediately, Gavin reacted. He let the empty glasses fall back onto the table and sprinted to the bar. ‘Julia, I need your car.’ ‘You what?’ Gavin ripped his badge from his pocket and shoved it in her face. ‘I. Need. Your. Car.’ ‘Holy shit you are from the police. Oh damn and I said-‘ ‘Forget what you said, there is an android getting abducted from your club right now. I need your phcking car. Right now!’ ‘Of course, but you should rather-‘ ‘No buts! Car! NOW!’

Julia nodded, fetched her jacket and ran to the parking lot after Gavin. He looked around for her car and froze, as she unlocked a 1975 vintage Fiat 500. ‘Ex-phcking-cuse me?’ ‘I told you you should have rather taken John’s car, he drives a-‘ ‘Doesn’t matter now. There’s no time. Go.’

‘Doesn’t this thing have a gas pedal of some sorts?’, Gavin shouted at her from the passenger seat. The damn car was tiny as phck and for once he was glad to be too tiny as phck. But right now, every emotion he felt was anger. Anger about how they crawled through Detroit’s streets tailing a black dodge challenger. Their only hope was the cities well known and well hated rush hour that they were stuck in just as bad as their target. ‘Hey, you are a cop!’ ‘Yeah, and that means my word is law! Now go over the damn speed limit!’ ‘Alright, pretty sure that doesn’t mean that, but as long as you pay my speeding tickets-‘ ‘I’ll phcking pay you anything as long as you find that gas pedal and press it through the damn floor!’ ‘Alright, alright!’ Gavin was pressed into the seat as Julia seemed to take his advice literally. And once they got speed she was willing to break every traffic rule there was: She changed into the oncoming traffic and slalomed her way through every traffic jam. ‘Don’t tell me this is top speed?’ ‘What do you think this is? I loved that car ever since I saw it and it is amazing if you want to find a spot to park! Now, will you stop complaining? What do you plan to do once we reach them?’ ‘If we reach them, that is! This damn toy can’t compete!’ ‘Okay. You insult my car? Now I prove to you speed isn’t everything!’

Gavin regretted his decision dearly. Because whatever the tiny car told about its owner… Julia seemed to be a rally driver. Cutting every turn perfectly and finding small parallel streets or even a park to race through, they managed to catch up.

Gavin. Are you… driving in a Fiat? ‘Are you wearing make-up?’, Gavin spat back although the android couldn’t hear him. Make room in the passenger side, I’m coming. Drive to the left… now! Gavin pushed Julia’s steering wheel to the side without a warning, trusting her to manage getting them back on track as the trunk of the car in front of them was ripped open and the hood clattering to the street before quickly disappearing. Gavin climbed into the back of the already crowded car, as Julia steered it expertly next to the trunk and pushed the door open. Nines managed to jump over and land more or less gracefully inside but had to huddle over his knees to fit. Gavin reached forwards handing Nines his gun that the android took with a surprisingly unphased: ‘Thanks, babe.’ As if getting abducted was fun. ‘Wait, you two are really…?’ Nines nodded, picking at his too tight, uncomfortable and sole piece of clothing. ‘We are. Now keep the car straight, please.’ He opened the window and leaned half his upper body outside, taking aim and shot. They watched, as his bullet hit the other car, piercing the tire and it spiralled out of control. ‘Hank and Connor are informed; backup is on the way. But we have to keep them here. Julia, if you would be so kind to park the car? Gav and I have some traffickers to arrest.’ The woman nodded and Nines was half out of the door, before he asked: ‘You wouldn’t have some additional clothes somewhere, would you?’ ‘Unfortunately not. But it suits you.’ ‘Hmm. That’s not really the point…’ Gavin groaned from the backseat as he himself wasn’t exactly presentable with his tight leather pants and deep V-necked shirt. ‘That will be enough joke-material for years to come…’

‘I would say, you look rather handsome’, Nines commented, now that they were outside walking side by side towards the other car. ‘Oh, phck off!’ ‘Come on, it was fun!’ ‘It was not!’ ‘Why? Are you jealous you didn’t get to have a “private dance” with me?’ Gavin was about to shout expletives at the android, before shaking his head. ‘You know what? Maybe I am!’ ‘Aw, Detective, no one said I would have to delete this programming after the mission is done.’ Well, that sounded… promising.

#detroit become human #dbh #Reed900 #RK900 #Gavin Reed #Sexy Nines and Car chases

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winchester-ofthe-lord · 5 years

Text

Classic Winchester Adventures - Chapter 6

Square Filled: Motel

Rating: gen

Warnings: none

Word Count: 2.7k

Summary: Sam and Dean have to find out what’s going on in the “Haunted Motel” they discovered in chapter 2

read on ao3 read from the beginning

A/N: hiya guys, this is chapter 6 for @spnclassicbingo ’s challenge. MASSIVE thanks to @thefandomforme for helping me with this <3 Stay tuned for the next chapters :)

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A couple of days later, the Impala - now (un)fortunately back to black - rolls off of the highway, and onto the narrow forest road leading toward the “Haunted Motel” Dean is already very keen on entering. The building is only a few minutes outside of town, but for whatever reason about half a mile into the woods, accessible only via a bumpy track that doesn’t really benefit Baby’s suspension.

“Who the hell came up with the stupid idea of building a motel here?” Dean complains, wincing when one of Baby’s tires hits a pothole, rattling both the car and the two brothers like children in a washing machine. Dean sighs internally, externally, and most of all, eternally, as he tenderly strokes over his steering wheel, muttering plaintive apologies under his breath.

They reach the parking lot, or rather the slightly more flattened area in front of the bedraggled building, and let their eyes roam the shabby house facade that seems to be crumbling away right before them, the abandoned, rusty-looking swing hanging from the tree in the ‘front yard’, the wall of trees surrounding the parcel of land and the road, and a decayed sign that says ‘Welcome to Coal Creek Motel - Enjoy your stay’. Homey.

Today is the eleventh, meaning that they’ve got two and a half days left to find out what exactly they’re even hunting here, why it’s killing people, and how to annihilate it. Easy as pie.

“Why is it always Friday the thirteenth, anyway?” Sam asks as he opens the Impala’s trunk to grab his and Dean’s guns and knives - they decided to scan the area first, then the, at this time of the day hopefully empty, building, before they’d interrogate the owners and possible previous victims. “I mean, why not… I don’t know, why not Thursday the 25th or something?”

Dean takes the proffered weapons from his brother, shaking his head with a soft huff, “Hell, if I knew.” He tucks the gun into the back of his jeans, the knife into the sheath at his ankle, and locks the car. Checking his flip phone for the time, he also sees his most favorite notification: no service. Awesome. “Okay, Sammy, cell reception is shit out here, so we gotta make sure we’re both back at the car in about-” he checks the time again, because he sometimes has the attention span of a goldfish- “one hour and fifty minutes, before the owners open the motel for the nightly tour. You copy?”

“Yes, sir!” Sam scoffs, grinning smugly while he salutes to his brother.

______________________________

Neither of them found anything on their search around the property. No weird symbols, no dead bodies, no creepy altars, no traces of blood, nothing. Which leaves only the house itself to examine.

The brothers accompany a group of seven other people on the tour through the motel. Their guide is a grumpy old man with an unkempt beard, and a generally unkempt outer appearance. But he answers most of the questions some of the overly excited visitors ask him, so he’s at least doing his job.

Unfortunately, even though the tour includes the entire building, nothing Dean and Sam didn’t already know is brought to light. Except for maybe the horrifyingly poorly done getup of the whole “Haunted Motel”. Including faux skeletons and cobwebs (although, looking at the overall condition of the house, the latter ones might actually be real), fake blood stains on the walls and floorboards, eerie paintings and soiled mirrors in the most random places, and a bunch of other stuff that doesn’t bring the Winchesters closer to solving the case.

They let themselves fall behind the group for a moment to share their thoughts, but none of them noticed anything off, or even slightly suspicious, so they decide to come back in the early morning to sift through the house on their own, without that creepy old dude watching their every step.

______________________________

“Hey, Dean,” Sam yells from somewhere on the first floor while Dean lets the yellowish beam of his flashlight wander across the walls in the hallway on the second floor. “I think I found something, get your stupid ass down here.”

It takes him almost two minutes to find his way back through the maze structured building until he finds Sam standing right in front of the front door, illuminating the ugly rug splayed on the floor. More precisely, the rug is rolled to the side, revealing dark wood planks underneath it. There’s a faint outline of a symbol...or a sigil maybe? drawn in dark gray paint (it probably used to be black, but over the years it must’ve faded) onto the floor, looking like a big ‘T’ with some sort of swirl above the upper horizontal line, and another swirl on the right next to the vertical line. “A tulpa?” Dean asks, squinting into the blinding beam of his brother’s flashlight pointed at his face.

“Sure looks like it.” The blinding light lowers toward the floor again.

Awesome. Just. Awesome. Tulpa means they can’t kill anything, and have to convince possibly hundreds of people, if not more, that there’s nothing going on here. Easy. As. Pie.

Which also means that they can’t do anything at the moment.

“Let’s get back to our motel and get some shut-eye. I’m so fucking tired, man,” Dean says and kicks at the rug, causing it to roll unceremoniously back over the painted planks. He opens the door and waits for Sam to walk past him before he follows suit.

______________________________

After sleeping until late morning - they came back from their self-guided, private motel tour around 4:30 am after all - they spend several hours reading stories about people’s experiences in the “Haunted Motel”.

“Holy shit,” Sam curses at his laptop sitting on the desk in front of him, “there’s someone who ran away from about 500 giant tarantulas that were scattered across the entire house.” He taps viciously on the touchpad of his laptop to scroll to the next entry. “And then there was a guy who said he, quote, ‘was torn apart by giant cockroaches with wolf heads’. Damn, that shit sounds terrible.”

These stories go on for quite a while, and Dean isn’t so sure if they’re really dealing with a tulpa in this building, or if they’re entirely on the wrong track here. “Isn’t a tulpa like, a bunch of people believing in the same shit?”

Sam nods his affirmation. “Yeah, a tulpa is created when many people are concentrating on the same thing while looking at the Tibetan Spirit Sigil we saw on the floor in front of the door. Once created, the tulpa takes on a life of its own and doesn’t need people to believe in it anymore. But Dean, I’m not that sure anymore if it’s really a tulpa going nuts in that motel.”

“Yep, just my thought,” Dean says, leaning forward to scrub his hands over his face. “I mean, first off, the sigil is under that ugly ass rug, so people aren’t really likely to see it, right? And every single person is seeing something different? Shouldn’t most people at least see the same thing? That doesn’t make any sense.” Heaving an exasperated sigh, he sinks back into his chair, closing his eyes, trying to sort through the given information.

Sam shuts his laptop with a soft click, and sighs almost as loud as Dean did mere seconds ago. “I don’t know, man. But I think you’re right.” He sighs once more, running a hand through his girly hair. “But if it’s not a tulpa, what else could it be? We only have like, one more day to find out what it is and how we can kill it, Dean.”

His brother is right. And this year, Friday the 13th only happens twice, so they have to kill whatever it is now, or they won’t get another chance for a rather long time.

______________________________

“No no no no no no no. Fuck. No. Nope. Nu-uh. Big. Fucking. HELL NO,” Dean repeats over and over again, a little under his, but mostly out of breath, as he’s running down the hallway on the second floor of the motel. Why he’s running? Oh, just the blonde woman in a white nightdress, looking suspiciously similar to his mom, chasing after him while screaming bloody murder.

Oh. And she’s on fire. Literally.

All of a sudden, she appears right in front of him, causing Dean to come to an abrupt halt, almost face planting into the wall to his right in his attempt to change the direction of his stampede.

“Where are you going, Dean?” his not-mother asks in a malicious snarl. “Don’t you love your mommy?”

Dean jerks his head around to look for another escape. “Not real,” he mumbles under his breath. “Not real, not real, not real, not real.”

The blonde, burning woman reappears right in front of Dean once again as he tries to make his way downstairs where he suspects his brother. Just that now he watches his mother’s face slowly melting off her bones, revealing charred flesh that starts to turn into a new shape.

It’s black and gooey for a few seconds, but little by little, the charred shape merges into a new face.

“Dean, why on earth is my car pink? What have you done?!” the slightly contorted replica of his father asks in an accusing tone. What the fuck, John isn’t even dead. This fucking tulpa is obviously on crack. Besides, the car was pink. It’s black again. Thankyouverymuch.

“SAAAAAAAAAAAAAAM,” Dean shrieks into the hallway.

Mary-John-now-flaming-Vampire-Hellhound dissolves into thin air, only to re-materialize behind Dean, growling threateningly at him, and drooling hissing acid on the creaking floorboards. Where the fucking hell is his idiot brother?

The day before, while Sam was busy doing research on the origin story of the tulpa, Dean was equally busy chatting with Nancy the witch via text messages on his flip phone. She may have mutilated his car for a day, but she was also pretty darn hot, and Dean’s never been one to miss out on an opportunity to do some horizontal tango. During all his, what could easily be called, sexting, he pretty much blanked out the Samsquatch and his findings, so Dean doesn’t actually have any idea what’s really going on in that “Haunted Motel” after all.

He vaguely remembers Sam telling him something about Harry Potter fans staying at the motel in 2000, the year after The Prisoner of Azkaban was published, and something about Boggarts. Dean thinks that Sam mentioned the fans “summoning” the Tulpa-Boggart more or less by accident, when they talked about how interesting and frightening the idea of the physical manifestation of one’s worst nightmares would be - while standing right over the giant tulpa sigil in the entrance area.

There was also a good reason why it’s always Friday the 13th, maybe it was because one of the fans was thinking about Jason with his ugly hockey mask. But maybe Dean got that wrong. He wasn’t really paying that much attention, to be honest.

Sam seemed to know and have a plan, so that was enough for the older Winchester.

This plan included an attempt at “exorcising” the Tulpa-Boggart by performing some kind of spiritual cleansing Sam found in one of his books. Or on the internet? Whatever. The important thing is that he did have a plan including the destruction of… something. They’d hoped that by destroying this something, the Boggart would vanish.

It did not.

“Dean?”

Breathing a relieved sigh at the sight of his brother ascending the stairs from the first floor, Dean takes a step toward him. “Took you long enough, asshat. We really need to get outta here. This thing is driving me ins- WHAT THE HELL?!” His relief quickly fades away into nothingness when his brother’s head, rather unexpectedly, bursts into a thousand pieces, painting the walls around the staircase in blood splatters.

Worst fucking nightmare.

Dean scrubs viciously at his eyes, trying to scratch the disturbing image from his retinas, while stumbling forward, and rushing down the stairs. Please let Sam be here somewhere.

“Sammy?” Dean tries carefully, peeking around the corner and into the room where he hopes to find his brother.

Two strong hands clasp at the lapels of his jacket and press him against the wall. “Dean? Please tell me it’s you.”

“‘Course it’s me, you dipshit,” Dean grunts into his brothers face, squirming slightly in his attempt to free himself from the persistent grip. “Now get your giant Sasquatch hands off of me. We need to get the fuck out of here.”

Finally, Sam lets go of Dean’s jacket with a nod, takes a step back from Dean, and briefly skims the room with an unnerved expression. It’s been quite a long time since Dean’s seen his brother that panicked. If it wasn’t for fear of his own life, he actually might find it hilarious.

“What does it look like for you?” Dean asks as he leans around another corner to make sure the entrance area is empty, holding his fist up as a sign for Sam to stay behind.

He hears a grumbled, defeated sigh before Sam answers, “Clowns. Yours?”

“Mom.” This time it’s Dean who exhales a shaky sigh. Only a couple more steps until they reach the front door. “And then Dad lecturing me on defiling his car with the pink velvet shit.”

Sam stops next to him, furrowing his brows in a judgemental expression. “Really Dean, that’s your worst nightmare?” Dean’s eye-roll is basically a full body move. He yanks at the door handle, and says, “Well, now it certainly is.”

They step out onto the front porch, down the stairs and toward the Impala where they take a couple of minutes to catch their breath, and process their respective nightmares. Leaning against the side of the car in the middle of the night in front of an eerie building somewhere in the woods is definitely not one of Dean’s favorite things to do.

“What the hell are we supposed to do now, huh?” Dean pinches the bridge of his nose for the hundredth time tonight before refocusing on his brother. “I mean, technically, there’s not really much we can do. We can’t kill it. We can’t stop people from coming to this fucking motel. We can’t find these damn Harry Potter fans and make them, I dunno, unthink the Boggart out of existence. We can’t do shit, man.”

For once, his smart-alecky brother doesn’t have a witty remark. All he manages to do is a somewhat forlorn shrug, letting his arms go limp by his sides, exhaling wearily.

“Okay, then,” Dean says and pushes himself away from the car, swatting his thighs once, “let’s burn that shit down.”

“What? No, we can’t do that, Dean!”

“Why not?”

“Uhm, because it’s wrong? And what if they just rebuild it?”

Dean rolls his eyes again. “Then we’ll come back and burn that down, too.”

There’s a minute of pregnant silence until Sam speaks again. “You know what? You’re right. Let’s burn it down. The building’s empty now, so at least nobody will get hurt. And it’s not like they’re making a fortune with that shit house anyway.”

So they do exactly that. They each take a gas can from the Impala’s trunk, and spread the highly flammable content around and inside the house, soaking the already rotting wood of the first floor and the porch - neither of them dares to go upstairs in fear of another nightmarish encounter, but well, if the first floor burns down, so will the rest of the house, right?

While Dean is already back at the car, getting it ready to head off by driving it toward the narrow path leading back to the highway, Sam spreads a trail of gasoline from the front door of the motel down the stairs of the porch and several yards away from the building, until he’s next to the car.

“Would you do the honors?” Sam asks his brother, holding out his favorite Zippo with a knowing smirk. As much as the two of them enjoy solving cases, actually killing the monsters they’re hunting, and leaving haunted places...not haunted anymore - it’s also fucking amazing to destroy things. Besides, watching a house burn down does have something oddly meditative.

And the truth is, not everything can be saved.

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taglist: @leatherandapplepies @demoninflannel @cross-roads-blues@thefandomforme @tiernayne

(please let me know if you wanna get added to/deleted from this list)

#crack fic #spn fic #sam and dean winchester #supernatural fanfiction #my fic

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edsbev · 6 years

Note

can we just talk about the whole window climbing thing? it’s so soft. Eddie being half asleep with his back facing the window, and then Richie climbs in (clumsily, so he makes a lil noise) and Eddie just turns with his eyes still closed and says calls for him with grabby hands. And Richie says ‘hi, baby’ kisses Eddies forehead and lets him curl up in his chest. “I love you, bubba.” followed by “I love you too, lovebug.” And then they’re both asleep. S O F T

ok so i wrote a lil thing for this but its not rlly like ur message at all im sorryfhjds i just love this trope and i dont think ive rlly written anything thats focused on it before?? so heres this sappy garbage that was supposed to be like 500 words and ended up being 1.9k lmao (also a bit of this is nsfw not rlly but just a warning)

Eddie doesn’t always hear it,when Richie comes through the window, but still he knows the action better thananything, by a distinct set of sounds.

There is a soft thud atfirst, of Richie’s palm meeting the glass, and then the scraping of woodagainst wood, of the window being moved up in its frame. Sometimes rattling as Richie struggles with the weight. There is a beat afterthat - once the window is lifted enough for Richie to stick his hand under itand push it up the rest of the way - where he pulls his hand away. And in thatbeat comes a rush of music from outside. Summer nights bring the chirps ofinsects, a car or two humming as it crawls along the road. Autumn nights bringa wind that rattles the frame and rustle the trees. Spring nights bring theflap of bird wings and hooting of owls.

All nights bring a little gruntfrom Richie’s throat as he slides the window right up until he can crawlthrough it. And sometimes that is followed with laughter, as he tumbles ontoEddie’s floor. Or Eddie’s name sung sweetly, teasingly from Richie’s lips as hesticks his head in through the opened window. Or a groan that escapes withouthim being for it. Or nothing at all.

Tonight, it is winter, and themusic is an orchestra of heavy rain hitting the roof and the road and the soggygrass. And it’s so loud that Eddie can’t make out anything else. Lies on hisside in his bed, his back to the window, his face half buried in his pillow.With one eye open he sees a rectangle of moonlight spill into his dark, quietroom, paint silver over the carpet. And then a dark shape, shadowing over thatlight, in the vague shape of Richie hunched over and squeezing himself throughthe gap. And then tumbling onto the floor.

The bed shakes and mattress dipsas Richie leaps onto it. Landing on his knees by Eddie’s side, his hand holdinghim up planted on Eddie’s spare pillow. When Eddie rolls over, he comes face toface with the image of Richie leaning over him, eyes bright and grin wide.Looking raggedy and breathless, with shadows cutting over his face and his haircurling over his forehead.

“Hey,” Eddie says,with a smile. When he breathes in, Richie smells damp, of rain and the bitterair outside.

“Hey,” Richie says,and leans down further for a kiss. And that’s when Eddie feels something cold and wet driponto the corner of his eye, and slide down toward his ear, like a tear.

“Holy shit, Richie,”Eddie yelps - in a way that’s more like he’s swallowing down a yelp, because heneeds to be quiet. He gets a hand onto Richie chest and pushes him away.“You’re dripping wet you fucking idiot.”

Richie lets himself be pushed,stumbling off the bed and onto his feet with a laugh. “Please let me kissyou,” he says, no less cheerful and breathless.

Eddie sits up, and now thatRichie is standing right where the moonlight hits him, Eddie can see the wayRichie’s wet hair sticks to his face, his skin shiny and damp when it catchesin the light. His jeans look plastered to his skin and the shoulders of hisdenim jacket are so soaked through they’re black.

“You walk here?” Eddieasks, as a joke.

“Ran,” Richie replies.

“Fuck off, you’resuch an idiot,” Eddie says, though there’s a tinge of affection to it,because Richie is still grinning at him, looking almost eager and excited.Happy. Eddie would think he’s drunk only he didn’t smell any alcohol on himwhen he was close. Just that sweet scent of rain. “You have a car, youknow.”

“Yeah but I’m grounded, youknow,” Richie repeats in the same know-it-all tone. He cocks hiseyebrow, the corner of his mouth, in a teasing “what? you asked forit” when Eddie looks offended at the mockery. “Now how about thatsmooch. I didn’t run all the way here just to look at you. Not that that’d beterrible–”

“Get out of those wetclothes and I’ll think about.”

“I like where this isgoing,” Richie says, and starts to peel off his jacket.

Eddie laughs.

It’s always been this way. Well,not always always. But throughout all the time that’s mattered, Richiehas been climbing in through Eddie’s window.

When they were twelve, andRichie was sticking out a sticky hand for Eddie to shake. And Eddie was saying“my name is Eddie,” and Richie was saying “my name isRichie,” and one week later Richie fell from Eddie’s window sill ontoEddie’s floor purely because he was curious if he could actually climb throughit and Eddie screamed because he thought a burglar had broken in.

When they were fourteen and bestfriends and Richie would crawl in through the window because he was bored. Andthey’d play cards on the bedroom floor and Richie would laugh and push hisglasses up his nose over and over and talk about girls in a way that soundedmore like he was just reciting words he had heard and not saying anything he’dthought of himself.

When they were sixteen and onthe verge of dating and Richie’s toes would find the carpet late at night,shutting the dark out behind him. And they’d spend the nights lying side byside in Eddie’s bed, painfully aware of each other’s presence. Careful not totouch but so desperately wanting to. Their legs and arms and ankles alwaysmysteriously draped over each other in the morning. Eddie never knew why Richiecame in, then, because he doubted so late at night that Richie was just bored,and that was usually why Richie would climb through his window. But then Eddiefound his nerve one night when he’d rolled over in bed and found Richie awake,looking at him sleepily beneath heavy eyelids - and Eddie realised he’d caughtRichie staring at the back of his head, as he so often stared at the back of Richie’shead, gaze tracing over Richie’s curls. And so he’d leaned over and pressedhis lips against Richie’s, and Richie kissed him back in a gentle way, like it was a dream he didn’t want to wake up from, and Eddie realised thatRichie came over because he just wanted to be close to him, just as Eddie hadwanted to be close to Richie.

When they were eighteen and inlove but too young to truly know it and Richie would sweep into Eddie’s roompast midnight with an eagerness that was not so much excited as it wasdesperate. Eddie would sit up and Richie was already there, kneeling in frontof him on the bed, a hand cupping Eddie’s cheek. “Eddie,” hewould breathe, with their noses bumping and lips so close every breath Richietook sent a thrill up Eddie’s spine and Richie’s gaze glued to Eddie’s mouth.“I’ve been thinking about you.” He’d say it in the same way someonemight say “I want you.”

Eddie’s own gaze was glued toRichie’s mouth. He’d reply, “I’ve been thinking about you too.”

And Richie would kiss him. AndRichie would push Eddie gently onto his back and kiss him. Kiss slowlydown his jaw, kiss hot and wanting down Eddie’s neck, until little gaspswere escaping Eddie’s throat and Richie was sucking at Eddie’s skin with agroan. And they’d continue until they were both undressed and Eddie wasscraping his nails down Richie’s back and biting his lip to hold back a sob andRichie was rocking into him and biting down on Eddie’s shoulder to hold back aslew of swears that would escape anyway.

And through it all Eddie wouldnotice that in his rush Richie had left the window open. And he’d feel a senseof freedom in it, being able to feel the night air on his face, and see thestars in the sky, before Richie would kiss the side of his mouth and holdEddie’s chin so he could look into his eyes. Like whatever was, is, betweenthem - this all-encompassing feeling of…feeling - didn’t need to behidden.

They’re still eighteen now. Butthey’re verging on nineteen very quickly, and maybe soon they’ll move out. Intoa house that’s their own, no parents to ground them because ‘if you’re under myroof you’re under my rules".

“I think these jeans arepermanently stuck on me,” Richie says, still trying to jimmy out of hiswet clothing. His jacket and shirt are off, chest bare, but he actually hasn’tbothered to go so far as to unbutton his pants. Just gave them one look andgave up. “This is how I’ll have to live now. With jeans for legs. You cancall me Jean-Boy.”

“Oh my god,” Eddielaughs, climbing out of bed. He stands in front of Richie, tilts his head up togive his boyfriend a grin as he tucks his fingers into the waistband of hisjeans. “Do I really have to do everything for you, Jean-Boy?”

In a house that’s their own,they can have the windows open all the time. Even on rainy nights like this.Because their house won’t be here, in Derry. It’ll be somewhere where theynever have to hide.

Richie smiles down at him. Hishair is already starting to dry and frizz and curl. Eddie feels a suddenfondness for him and his frizzy hair but he doesn’t feel like reaching up toRichie’s mouth so he just plants a soft kiss below Richie’s bare collarbone.

When he looks back up again, hesees a flash of Richie’s grin before Richie is ducking down and pressing a kissto the corner of Eddie’s eye. Then his cheek. Then below Eddie’s ear. Then hisjaw. Then, then, then.

“Oooh, my EddieSpaghetti,” Richie croons as Eddie giggles at all the soft littlekisses. “He’d do anything for me. He loovess me.”

“Wow, you got me,”Eddie says. He struggles with the buttons of Richie’s jeans for a moment beforepopping them open. “Now help me get these jeans off so we can go to bed. Iwanna be little spoon this time because I always get a shit night sleep whenyou’re little spoon.”

In a house that’s their own,Richie won’t have to climb in over the window sill and creep over the carpet,run all the way over here in the rain just because he wants to sleep with Eddiecurled up by his side.

“Yeah, yeah,whatever,” Richie grumbles. Together they manage to unstick Richie’s dampjeans from his damp legs and peel them right off over his feet. Then theystumble over into Eddie’s bed, laughing, Eddie shushing Richie when he gets tooloud, reminding him of his mother downstairs. Richie slots himself againstEddie’s back and smothers his laughter into Eddie’s neck. Then noses there affectionately. Then falls asleep with his lips pressed to Eddie’s shoulder and his body warm and dry. And there’s a contentedness to it that makes Eddie think that Richie wholeheartedly believes that running all the way here against the rain is worth it. Not that he’d ever admit it in a way that isn’t disguised as a joke - that he’d brave cold nights and hot summer days and the climb up to the second storey and the wrestle with Eddie’s window just to be pressed up against Eddie like this. But Eddie knows.

Eddie will miss it.

#reddie #ask #writing #mine #why is everything i write the same #dfgghhjjkk #Anonymous #yall can take this trope from my cold dead hands idc that its been done to death !!!!!#also i might have actually written somethin abt this before i cant remember #all my writing blurs together bc. its all the same like i said lmao #but im pretty sure i havent??#idk idk

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maevefiction · 6 years

Text

Your Light in the Mist - One Shot, Been Shopping

As we munched our Kung Po chicken (Chinese food was a Thursday tradition at the office, I was informed by Gavin, whose face was bright red and sweating from the intensely spicy concoction) I remembered I’d yet to inquire as to what I was expected to turn up in for Phaedra’s event at the Cube Gallery the following evening. Simon’s chopsticks fell from his fingers, mouth agape.

“Do you always wait until the very last moment for this sort of thing, Maude? I thought New York was just a fluke because you had no idea you were going to Daniel…is this a pattern? I am tres disappointed.”

Using my entire hand, fingers spread, I pointed at the worn Lord of the Rings T-shirt I’d thrown on that morning. “Dude, does it LOOK like I put a shitload of thought into what I wear most of the time?”

He peeked under the table. “You wore those shorts Tuesday, didn’t you?”

I nodded emphatically, brows raised. “NOW you’re getting it.”

Shrugging, he swallowed another bit of chicken. “No, I’m not. Because you weren’t a total slob in HAWAII.” I kicked him under the table. “OW. Bitch. I meant that whenever we went out you looked beautiful…”

Leaning back in my chair, eyes closed, I took a deep breath, then spoke, softly at first, my voice rising as I made my point. “That’s why I’m ASKING. So I can make a valiant attempt at looking DECENT. And since it’s so LAST MINUTE, can you just maybe please, oh, I don’t know, TELL ME WHAT THE DRESS CODE IS ALREADY?”

Luke was smirking, looking back and forth between us as if he was watching a rousing tennis match. “Suit and tie, Maude. With plenty of leeway for artistic expression. My mother’s friends are…interesting.”

“Thank you, Luke. I’m sure I brought something with me that’ll work.”

Simon pushed himself up off the cushioned bench seat and reached out his hand to me. “Come on.” I remained motionless, looking up at him as if he was an alien creature about to attack. His head tipped back, eyes rolling. “We are going up to your flat. I will peer into your closet. I will determine if any of it ‘works’.”

I shot Luke a ‘what the fuck’ look, his half smile and shrug clearly indicating that my life would be simpler if I just went with it. I stood, reluctantly, gazing longingly at the remains of my lunch.

“Fine. But I just thought of the perfect dress…”

He crossed his arms. “That brown galaxy print?” I nodded, my turn to gape. Simon shook his head. “Yeah, no.”

“Why not? And what the hell, Simon? This is starting to piss me off…”

Both of his hands found my shoulders and settled there. “You already WORE that one. Maude? You do realize that this is a widely publicized event? And that somehow, someone…” He whipped his head around to the other staff table. “SOMEONE mentioned online that one Mr. Hiddleston would be in attendance.”

My head tilted to the side. Simon sighed. “Maude. This is, like, your LONDON DEBUT as a COUPLE. There will be press. There will be paps. There will be fans.”

“OOOHHHHHH. So you’re going all PR on my ass is what’s happening here.” I grinned. “Well, I’m glad someone’s paying attention. Tom’s woefully inadequate Social Media Director didn’t even notice it circulating on them there interwebs.”

Luke chuckled. “She’s not woefully inadequate.”

I sighed. “I can’t chastise you because you’re my boss. But I’m certain you sense my displeasure.”

We all laughed, and Luke stood. “I’m sure that after our conversation yesterday afternoon your mind is focused on other things.”

“Do you mean the quadrupled workload I managed to dump into my own lap because I had an idea? No. I’m not obsessing over that at all. Wait. You said focused. I’m not focusing on that at all.”

Simon took my hand and pointed at Luke. “Sorry, boss man. I’m kidnapping her for the rest of the afternoon.”

My head shook vehemently. “No you are not. I have SO many phone calls to make and hopefully interviews to arrange and why I am I suddenly not capable of dressing myself?”

“Maude, honey, you’re in a strange city. Our customs are unfamiliar to you. Let’s skip the closet part and just GO SHOPPING.” His brows rose as he finished his sentence, face leaning in towards mine and I realized he probably had an ulterior motive.

“Fine, Simon. FINE. Shopping.” I turned to Luke. “Is this really okay with you?”

He laughed. “I have to live with the man. A-okay.”

As we walked up the stairs Simon whispered in my ear. “Sorry, love. I saw an opportunity and went for it. Glad you finally caught on there at the end.”

I snorted. “I have no idea what the fuck I caught on to, but you SHOULD be glad because I was ready to kick your ass for insulting my fashion sense. Do I like to bum around when I can? Absofuckingloutely. When the occasion demands do I clean up well? Also absofuckingloutely.”

He shushed me as we reached the door to the main level. I grabbed my bag from my office, pulling my phone out as we walked passed a confused Lyssa. Simon went all Monty Python and yelled ‘You been shopping? No, I been shopping!’ as we headed through the door.

As I rang Tom’s phone he rolled his eyes. “God, do you have to tell him EVERYTHING?”

I smacked his arm. “Shut the fuck up.” Tom, of course, picked up just as the words came out of my mouth. “Shit. Hi. That was for Simon, not you. So. Hey. How are you?”

His throaty chuckle at my awkwardness made me blush. Stupid schoolgirl Maude strikes again. “Hi to you too. What’s up?”

“You know, I’m not really sure but it would appear that Simon is dragging me out shopping so I can find a dress for tomorrow night. At least that’s what he told Luke…”

Simon grabbed the phone away from my ear via my wrist, walking me away from the office door, stopping near the stairs closest to Tom’s and my flat and speaking as it remained in my hand. “Thomas. I believe have found the perfect dress for my maid of honor and I am taking her to try it on. DO NOT, under any circumstances, tell Luke. I want every little detail to be in place before he sees ANY of what I’m planning.”

I frowned. “So…I’m NOT getting a dress for tomorrow night?”

“Yes, yes, we’re going to find a dress for you. And some coffee because you are like…DUH.”

Wriggling away from him I pressed the phone back to my ear. “So there you have it. We are now participants in a wedding conspiracy. Apparently. I don’t suppose you want to come with us?”

I could picture his head shaking back and forth slowly as he spoke. “No, no…the two of you go have some fun. I’ll just stay…here…enjoying the peace…and the quiet…”

“How rude. So, shall I send you some pics…”

“Dressing room pics? God yes. Please.” A sharp inhale. “I don’t suppose you have five minutes to spare before you leave? Maybe Simon needs to put more gel in his hair or something?”

Simon shouted ‘I heard that you bloody bastard’ as I bit into my bottom lip. “I meant pictures of the prospective dresses for tomorrow. Just so you know.” The air in the lobby seemed stiflingly hot. “Fuck, is the air conditioning not working in here or something?”

Tom snorted. “Funny, I was wondering the same thing. One particular part of me is decidedly warmer than the rest, though…”

“Okay. On that note, we should get going. Because…”

He uttered a delicate groan. “Oh my, it got all HARD when I touched it…”

“Nuh-uh. Going now. Love you.”

“Love you too.”

Simon made gagging noises and pretended to vomit on the carpet as I put my phone away, and I hoped beyond hope he’d ACTUALLY vomit all over his two-tone striped grey John Varvatos Mykanos Venetian loafers. Paired with white to-the-knee shorts and a grey polo that matched the darker stripe of the shoes perfectly, he looked as if he’d just stepped off his yacht and was in search of the nearest appropriately upscale men’s club. As I looked down at my own clothes, I came to terms with the fact that even if he’d used it as a ruse to sneak around behind Luke’s back, the man had a point about my attire. Just like Veronica had in New York. Shaking my head, I muttered something along the lines of needing to find some less fashion-forward friends who wouldn’t be so focused on my clothing choices and thus I’d be allowed to live a normal life wherein wearing the same shorts twice in week wasn’t a scandal.

“MAUDE, I heard that!”

“Good. Have you ever, you know, thought of dressing DOWN?”

He gasped. “And break rule number sixty four under section eight of the Exceedingly Handsome Homosexual Male’s Handbook? NEVER.”

My eyes narrowed as I suppressed a huge grin. “Well played, Mr. Ahlberg. Well played.”

He reached for my hand, squeezing it gently, his own baby-soft and warm with an underlying strength that somehow surprised me. “Come on, gimpy. You can make it to the parking garage, can’t you?”

“Yes, asshat. Let’s motor.”

We walked down the street hand in hand, our arms swing as he sang a little song about having me all to himself for an entire afternoon. I spotted Tom’s Jaguar, and totally lost my shit when Simon’s key fob disarmed a Fiat 500 L two cars down from it, its paint an eye-assaulting robin’s egg blue.

“Simon. My god. That’s…fuck…it’s so…YOU it’s not even funny.”

He opened the passenger door for me, one hand on his hip. “So why are you laughing?”

Which of course made me laugh even harder, and he finally had to come get me and practically stuff me in the vehicle, rolling his eyes the entire time.

We sat until I assured him I wasn’t going to pee my pants, then he put the Fiat in gear and exited the garage. Once on the road, he turned on the stereo and Alice in Chains began blaring…Grind, one of my favorites.

“Holy shit, Alice in Chains! Color me impressed, Simon.”

“Yes, my musical tastes expand beyond Rick Astley and Gloria Gaynor.”

I chuckled. “What’s the handbook say about THAT?”

“God. Why don’t you shut up and sing with me?”

It was shocking how well our voices harmonized, and as the song ended with both said in unison ‘oh my god, duet’ and discussed what might be appropriate for Emma’s HeForShe talent show until Simon drove past a huge building bearing the name ‘Vogue House’, then parked one street down.

I felt my body go cold and twisted around to face him. “Um, Simon? That Vogue bit…that’s not, like, VOGUE vogue, is it?”

A fiendish grin spread across his face. “If you mean Conde Nast publications Vogue magazine, then yes. Big giant fucking YES. But we’re actually going to see someone at Glamour, an old friend from college. Elaine Casemuir. We’re really just casual acquaintances at this point, but she used to come in to the Dorchester and I’d make sure she always had a great table, so this is payback. This dress…it’s just…perfect. I managed to score the Gherkin for the ceremony and reception…there may have been some blackmail involved, but a man’s gotta do what a man’s gotta do. Here, look.”

He handed me his phone, and my reaction as I scrolled the photos went from oh, nice to fuck me that is the coolest place EVER. According to their website, weddings and receptions were held on the top two floors of the most incredible steel and glass, phallic building I’d ever laid eyes on. I hazarded a guess that the Gherkin was a pickle reference, which was probably what most non-horny 24/7 people saw when they looked at. 360 degree panoramic views of the London cityscape, totally modern interior…glorious.

“Simon. Blackmail. WORTH IT. Not gonna ask, because…probably better not to know. And…”

“Oh please. You SO want to know. The guy who books events hangs around with us in clubs on occasion. He’s also sleeping with one of the waiters there who’s barely out of high school. His wife would NOT be amused if she knew about either of those things.”

“SIMON.”

“What?”

“You are so…so…WICKED. I’m impressed.” I patted his shoulder. “Luke is a very lucky man.”

He sniffled. “No, I’m the one who’s lucky. I want to make this so special, because it means so, so much to both of us…damn you, making me cry. Now my skin’s going to be all blotchy when we see Elaine and she’ll be all oh, Simon, your skin is horrid, darling and I’ll have to slap her. She’s a writer, by the way, and she also does a ton of photoshoot arranging. Which means access to designer lines. I saw the dress a week and a half ago and had her track it down that day, it’s a Valentino from the 2015 Spring/Summer collection…matches my color scheme of black and white and silver PERFECTLY…”

I raised a brow as I removed my hand from his shoulder. “Um, you ARE aware that I’m a double-D cup who barely fits in a size twelve, yes?”

Pinching my nose, he giggled before speaking. “I am indeed. It’s from the Ready-to-Wear line. And it’s a twelve. As for your boobs fitting…that’s why god made duct tape.”

“Oh, fuck that…I’m still recovering from body glue trauma…”

“AH AH AH, NO. Come on. Let’s go in.” He got out and came around to open my door, extending a hand to help me up and out.

I stood and closed the door behind me. “Yeah, yeah. Wait…you only asked me to be your maid of honor last Friday…”

He stared at the ground, toeing one foot across the pavement, then glanced up at me sheepishly. “Correct. I would have been heartbroken if you’d said no.”

Wrapping my arms around him, I kissed his cheek. “Aw. Simon.”

“Mainly because the dress was a fucking small fortune.”

“Whatever. Let’s go before I kill you.”

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

Elaine’s office was at the rear of the building, within the main Glamour office itself. She squealed when she saw Simon, throwing herself at him, her stick-thin arms wrapping around him and pulling his head to her chest. Clad in a red micro-mini and white button down shirt, her straight black hair was impossibly shiny and just brushed her shoulders, the white patent leather heels she wore causing her to tower over Simon by at least three inches. Her gaze turned to me and though her face remained happy-happy I swore I could smell her disappointment as she took in my state of dress. When she spoke, I was stunned to hear an American accent.

“Hello there, Maude. Nice to meet you. I’m Elaine Casemuir” She thrust her hand out, and I shook it, hesitant to grab too tightly lest I break a bone on her.

“Nice to meet you as well, Elaine.”

Simon clapped excitedly. “Dress, Elaine. SHOW HER THE DRESS.”

She rolled her eyes and released my hand. “Simon, you have no chill. Follow me.”

We walked out of the office and down the rest of the hallway to a light blue metal door. She unlocked it, entered the room and indicated that we should join her inside. It was vast, racks upon racks of clothing and all sorts of accessories strewn about. She teetered on her heels three racks down, turned left, grunted several times, then shouted ‘victory’. When she rounded the corner and held up what she’d found, I immediately turned to Simon, grabbed his bicep and spoke using my terribly inappropriate for this particular setting outdoor voice.

“I. FUCKING. LOVE. IT.”

It was floor length, a filmy light grey, very transparent with appliquéd silver stars of varying size, a combination of some resembling starfish and others the traditional five point star formation covering both the lightly pleated, flowing skirt and form-fitting bodice. And my lord, that bodice…the sleeves were short and just the teensiest bit puffy with a little ruffle ring at the bottoms, and the neck was…a V. A V that extended to just an inch above the two-inch wide waistband, and unlike the skirt, there was no underlayment whatsoever and no way to wear a bra so it was totally HELLO NIPPLES.

He grinned widely. “I knew you’d love it. You have no shame.”

I pointed my index finger in his face. “Mmm hmm. Let’s remember this is for your WEDDING. What are YOU wearing? Assless chaps?”

“Don’t think it didn’t cross my mind, Maude. My ass is spectacular and deserves accolades. But our mothers will be there, so…no.”

“Your mother will be there? I’m…shit, I’m shocked, actually.”

He sighed. “We can’t all be lucky enough to have them check out on us early, honey.” He paused, taking stock of what he’d just said, then frowning. “Damn. Too soon?”

My head shook as I bit back a roar of laughter, suddenly conscious of Elaine’s presence. She cleared her throat and pointed left, handing off the dress to Simon.

“Changing area is that way, and my assistant Diandra will help pin you up once you’re in it if it needs altering. If it does, just leave it and I’ll call when it’s ready. If not, take it with. I’ve got a conference call in ten, so I probably won’t see you. Lovely meeting you, Maude. Simon, you better invite me to this shindig or I’m going to feature you in the fashion don’ts column online.”

His hand flew to his chest in mock horror. Or at least I thought it was mock. “You wouldn’t dare.”

She smirked. “Try me.”

Eyes rolling, he draped the dress over his right arm and put his left hand on his hip, pouting. “Fine, you’ll get an invite. But bring someone interesting. You know, not your USUAL date type.”

“Simon, baby…it’s New Years Eve. I’m flying solo and finding someone at the reception to lock lips with at the stroke of midnight. Gay wedding, lots of straight friends, I’m bi…statistically, I can’t lose.”

She waved goodbye and tottered back toward her office, and Simon and I made our way down to the changing area. Though all the way at the rear of the left side of the room, it was wide open to the rest of the space. There were built in wooden benches littered with shoes and gloves and scarves, and the entire back wall was mirrored. We were greeted by a gorgeous woman with dark brown, luminous skin, huge hazel eyes and a smile that rivaled Tom’s mega-watt one. She was wearing a chevron print tank dress in varying shades of chartreuse, shoes that matched the darkest chevrons, and her hair was piled neatly on top of her head and wound with a silk light green scarf. She greeted us first, her Caribbean accent melodic, making even the simplest of words seem important and joyful.

“Hello you two…make yourselves at home, and if you need anything, I’ll be playing in the stacks. Such beautiful clothes…fashion paradise, right here and now!” She laughed, then began searching and sorting. I shimmied out of my shorts and yanked my T-shirt up over my head without fanfare, catching Simon side-eyeing me in the mirror.

“Problem, Simon?”

He snickered. “Oh no, no problem. Just admiring your speed and technique. You could use a little more finesse, though. I had to take points off for that.”

I reached around my back to unhook my bra. “Well, if you don’t want a good, long look at my tits you should probably turn around. Or close your eyes. Something.”

He turned around, then looked down as he passed me the dress when I was ready to attempt to wriggle into it. “You know, you could have left the bra ON. I was joking about the no shame bit.”

“No, I couldn’t have. I’m not going to be able to wear one with it later, so I need to know how it fits without. I see silver star shaped pasties in my future, though. Or maybe nude ones would be better…forgot about the parent factor.”

“Roland’s going to be in the wedding party, too. He’s Luke’s best man. I think he’d probably like the star pasties better, but I suppose I need to exercise some parental moral responsibility at some point, so nude is probably the right choice. Of course I thought of none of this when I saw the dress initially. I was captivated by the shiny.”

Laughing as I lifted the gathered fabric over my head, I had to pause to stop myself from turning around to talk to him. “You? Captivated by shiny? Nope, not possible.” I worked my hand through the armholes and dropped the dress into place. Or tried to. It got stuck on my boobs. “And did you say Roland is Luke’s best man? That is…the sweetest thing ever.”

Simon’s voice was thick with emotion when he replied, as it usually was whenever he mentioned anything Luke and love related. “It is. Totally Luke’s idea, too. I wanted him to be my best man, but Luke thought it would make him feel more…accepted, I guess, if it was the other way around. Worked, too. He was over the moon. They get along so well…it’s just…”

I swiveled my head around when I heard him sniffing. “Simon, don’t you dare cry because then I’ll cry and THE DRESS, dude, THE DRESS.” Carefully, every so carefully, I pulled and slid and tugged until the waist was where it belonged, reached behind me to zip it up, then tucked the girls into place before I looked in the mirror. Though a bit snug in the chest, it was essentially a perfect fit. I didn’t even think it would need hemming if I wore a two inch heel. A nice, chunky heel. Preferably boots with heels. I stared at my reflection, feeling like a princess from some sort of fractured fairytale for I don’t know how long, finally interrupted by the click of a phone camera. Looking up, I saw Simon behind me, taking shot after shot.

“SIMON.” I spun around to face him, any modesty, which had been purely for his benefit because I really DID have no shame, cast completely aside since he’d already seen my nipples, even if it was only technically a reflection of them. “The fuck are you doing?”

He grinned. “Just sending some pictures to your boyfriend. No biggie. You’ll thank me later.”

“You know Simon, I HAVE ENOUGH PROBLEMS ALREADY …” My phone dinged, and I bent over to rummage through my shorts pockets to find it. Text from Tom. Of course.

WOMAN, YOU NEED TO COME HOME RIGHT NOW. – T

Another arrived right after, before I had time to reply.

Okay. I counted backwards from ten and some of the blood that was elsewhere returned to my brain. You look so, SO beautiful. My lord. Just…a vision of loveliness. All that, plus intelligence, humor, everything…my Maude. I am a lucky, lucky man. – T

Thomas, you’re making me blush. And Simon is SO going to bust my balls for it. :P –M

Fucking hell I just zoomed and…nipples…we’re now back to WOMAN, YOU NEED TO COME HOME RIGHT NOW. – T

They will be covered on the night of the wedding, I assure you. :P – M

Well that’s disappointing. :P So, when ARE you coming home? LOL –T

Still have to get dress for tomorrow. Probably two hours, maybe? I need to get this one off because for SOME reason I’m, like, all hot and starting to SWEAT. –M

If you’ll excuse me, I’m going to go recite the Serenity Prayer a thousand times now. – T

Actually, though, I thought I’d go to the market and get what we need for the weekend. Mum and Emma can’t make dinner tomorrow, so they’ll just meet us here and then we’ll all head to the gallery, then come back after to talk and such. Anything in particular you want or need while I’m out? – T

Ice cream. Chips and dip. Onion dip, preferably. And is there somewhere you can stop and pick me up an ankle support? I think it’s time to start leaving the boot off as much as I can tolerate…putting weight on the ankle helps it heal faster. Or so they say. Thanks. – M

Will do. Love you. – T

Love you too. I’ll try to stop Simon from sending more pics so you don’t get a stiffy in public. :P –M

Don’t need pics for that, love. All I have to do is think of you and…whoomp, there it is. :P –T

Now that fucking song is going to be stuck in my head. Thanks for that. –M

J You’re welcome. See you soon. –T

Simon was tapping his foot, patience wearing thin. “Christ. Remind me not to do THAT again. So. Get that off. We need to get to Anna and Browns before they close.”

I stripped and put my clothes back on while Simon requested a garment bag from Diandra, and she insisted on zipping it up herself once the dress was in place to ensure nothing snagged. When we reached the car, he carefully laid the bag across the backseat before coming around to open my door. I commented on his backwards priorities, and he told me to shut my pretty mouth and with that, it was off to Anna, which Simon said was in the opposite direction but closed earlier so that was where we need to go first.

Located nearly right across from Regent’s Park, Anna was a two story boutique featuring unique designer clothing…their words, not mine. Simon refused help from a stylist, opting instead to let me browse around like a cow grazing in an open field. Most of the stock was entirely not my taste, but I did manage to find a funky grey tie-dyed pattern long-sleeve T-shirt style dress, and Simon brought me a white sweater dress with black horizontal stripes. There was no way I was ever wearing it in public, but I agreed to try it on. Both wound up being meh at best, so we wrote them off, cut our losses and drove to Browns.

The Browns Flagship store was vast, taking up five repurposed interconnecting townhouses, offering all styles and types of designer fashions as well as accessories. Simon had to drag me away from the first shoe display we came across and into the racks…and there were so many racks. SO. MANY. After narrowing it down to three dresses, we traversed to the fitting room, where Simon waited outside for me after the counter girl cleared her throat when he attempted to follow me inside.

First I tried on a Givenchey short sleeve wrap-style dress, black satin, and as soon as I saw how the bunched material made my boobs look lopsided as all get out, off it came. Next was a Christopher Kane sleeveless bandage dress, totally funky, the dress medium grey, horizontal piping of the same color, with a black and white zipper running up the entire length of its front. The hem reached to four or five inches above my knee, and it was…tight. But in a good way, though I questioned if it made my ass look huge. Simon’s reaction shot down that theory when I walked out of the fitting room.

“That’s the one. That’s it. Turn. Your tushie looks fantastic. Woo! Now you just need shoes…”

“Hold on, cowboy. There’s one more to try on and it’s my favorite.”

He sighed. “But this one is perfect.”

I flipped him off and went back into my cubicle, hung the bandage dress back on its hanger, then tried on the Balenciaga black leather and silk dress that had screamed BUY ME from the second I saw it. The structured bodice was spaghetti-strap halter style, leather, with a sweetheart neckline and a silver zipper that ran from the top to the waist of the dress. The skirt was silk, airy, and lightly pleated, creating a gentle wave effect at the hemline. It was a bitch to get into, and I yet again had to remove my bra, but once I zipped it and adjusted the décolletage was unbelievably impressive. The skirt brushed the very top of my shins, just below my knee, and it felt like…ME. Though after San Diego I thought I’d never consider wearing them again, I knew it would look amazing with my Diva Darcies. I marched out to meet Simon, though it was really only half marching/half something awkward and strange because of the boot, and he gasped.

“Holy fuckamoley, you look like…like…I don’t know. Goth biker chick? Bad ass motherfucker? Dominatrix? All of that? I still think the bandage dress is better for tomorrow, but you NEED to buy this one too. It screams ‘dance all night long with Simon at Studio 338’. When you CAN dance again, we are SO going.” He frowned. “When’s that heinous ankle contraption coming off, anyway? It’s not adding anything to either dress, if you know what I mean.”

I rolled my eyes. “I am AWARE. And I have it covered, I think. It’s much better than it was, surprisingly so since it’s only been a week. Way I figure, if I can find a nice sturdy pair of boots to wear and combine it with the ankle support Tom’s picking up for me, maybe, just MAYBE I can get away without it tomorrow night. But…buy both? This one’s seventeen hundred bucks, the other is eleven hundred. How do I justify spending that on…two dresses? That’s insane.”

He tilted his head and pointed at me. “Um, honey, your man is famous. Wait until it’s red carpet time.”

Raising a brow, I shifted my hips back and forth, regaling in the feel of the silk against my legs. “Simon. Bullshit. Have you forgotten what I’ve done for a living? I’m not a total newb. Those are usually LOANERS.”

“Fine. I was just trying to make you feel justified. SO unappreciative, Maude.”

I snorted, then returned to the fitting room to change back into my street clothes. Simon was my dress donkey for this mission, snarking on the occasional pair of shoes as I perused the available selection.

“Yuck. Open toe, yet not open toe.” He held up a pair of peek-a-boo sandals. “MAKE A CHOICE, PEOPLE.”

All the boots were ordinary, leather, fold over cuffs, zippers…nothing caught my eye. Around the corner was another display, and I finally saw a pair that got me all ‘grabby hands shut up and take my money’. They were black, moderately shiny, semi-slouchy with eleven black metal round rivet-like buttons up the outer sides, zippers on the inside for easy on and off. The brand was Miz Mooz, the style Bloom. The clerk located my size within the space of five minutes, and when I tried the left one on I was pleased to see that they came all the way up to my knees. Simon nodded his approval, I took of the ped I’d been given, put my sandal back on and three thousand dollars later we were out the door and headed home. Simon insisted on stopping for coffee at Kaffeine, and though it was against my better judgement I ordered an espresso to put an end to his incessant whining about how I was so much less fun that he’d thought. When he chided me for putting sugar in it, I responded by adding more. It hit me just as we pulled into his spot in the parking garage, and by the time we got to our floor he was quite contented to pass off all the bags to Tom and run for his own flat as he yelled ‘good luck with her, honey’.

Tom placed the dresses on the back of the couch and the boot box on the floor as I followed him like a puppy, trying to skip but failing miserably. He turned to me, arms crossed.

“What did he mean by that?”

I speed shrugged. “Well, could be he’s fed up with shopping because I don’t really like what he likes, though the maid of honor dress, that’s, wow, but, like he picked out this stripey thing and I felt like Sailor Moon when I put it on but wait, she wears a pinafore or something so maybe it’s Twiggy, the model, yeah, it was really late sixties and though wow I’m SO not Twiggy at all but you know what I mean OR it could have something to do with…the espresso. Probably the espresso. Espresso.”

He smirked as he uncrossed his arms and closed the distance between us. “What on earth possessed him to let you drink espresso?”

Speed shrugging again, I reached out and began fiddling with the waistband of his jeans, untucking his white T-shirt from them. “I don’t KNOW. I told him already like three times that coffee and I are like NO, NOT COMPATIBLE, yet he was all ESPRESSO, you have to have some because if you don’t, so BORING and then he made fun of me for putting sugar in it but fucking A it was bitter and WHY do people drink it like that it’s NASTY…” I’d unbuttoned his jeans and had begun to unzip them when his hands covered mine. I looked up at him. “Wow, how did THAT happen? Seriously, I have no idea it’s just you’re there and that white T-shirt and do you want to fuck me because I really need you to fuck me, like, right now because all day long I’ve been thinking about you touching yourself and…”

His lips met mine, and I responded aggressively, biting down on his lip, then searching for his tongue and sucking on it vigorously, pulling away to stare at him. “Thomas. I love your mouth. The way you taste. Your lips, your tongue, what they do to me…” I dove back in, and his own response was first a gasp, then a moan, followed by his lip sucking trick that made me come instantly every single time, this one no exception.

“Wow, oh my god, Tom, I so wasn’t ready for that yet but I guess I WAS ready, ha, right? Will you do it again? Do it again.”

Three of my orgasms later, he was shaking with his own pent up desire, looking over his shoulder at the couch, then over mine into the kitchen. He turned me around, propelling me past the dining table with his hands on my shoulders while growling in my ear.

“I’m going to fuck you on the counter. Is that all right? Fucking you on the counter?”

I tilted my head to the left. “Fucking me on the counter. Yes. Yes please. I would like you to fuck me on the counter. SO totally all right. Totally.”

As soon as we rounded the corner he yanked my shorts and underwear down, and I kicked them to the side as he lifted me up and plopped me on the cold stone, my back to the living room, one hand on my jaw to keep me focused on his face, my eyes locked on his.

“Now. I have to run upstairs for just one very brief moment. You’ll stay right here and wait for me, won’t you?”

Nodding six times, I began swinging my legs back and forth as he bolted from the kitchen. “I’m still right here, Tom. But my poor, poor pussy…she’s very lonely, soaking wet, all excited but there’s no one to play with her…”

There was a loud crash from upstairs, followed by a litany of fucks and shits, then his rapid footfalls as he raced down the stairs, appearing in front of me with the ankle brace I’d requested and a chair from the dining room. He sat in the chair and began unbuckling the walking boot, slipping it off carefully as he met my gaze.

“Sorry, love. Your pussy is a meal that demands to be savored, and I can’t very well have that boot digging into my shoulders while I enjoy my feast, can I?”

“Well I was under the impression that you’d be fucking me, like really, really HARD and right NOW but…” I reached down and grabbed his head with both hands, pushing it towards my crotch. He pulled away, smirking.

“Ah ah ah, we’ve got to put the brace on first.” He pulled it over my foot, and as my ankle rolled sideways I felt a stab of fire within the joint that made me suck in a quick breath. “Sorry, love. Almost there.”

Both my hands gripped the edge of the countertop. “It’s fine. Totally fine. Do it. Just do it. Worth the pain. Worth it. Make it worth it.”

He tugged it into place, pulled the chair in closer, situated himself precisely, then placed my feet on his shoulders. His head was as the perfect height, face still visible to me yet strategically placed for…going down. As his hands pulled my ass closer to the edge and spread me open, his long, pink tongue unfurling, I realized that from my own angle, I’d be able to see…everything. He began at my taint, running his tongue up the middle, it dipping into my entrance just enough to make me push down on his shoulders with my feet and thrust my hips forward, then abandoning that particular ship in order to circle my clit, which he took between his teeth, then sucked into his mouth, staring at me the entire time.

“Tom. Tom. TOM. Mygodmygodmygod. Suck harder. Come on. Harder.” He ignored me at first, but I kept repeating it louder and louder until he complied, and I could tell by his eyes that he was extremely entertained by my insistence. I was not entertained when he stopped abruptly, though before I could protest I watched him stiffen his tongue and ease it inside me and suddenly, I forgot about everything else as my brain tried to process the visual of it moving in and out of me in conjunction with the way it made me FEEL. The moment his thumb touched my clit I began humping his face, him rubbing and thrusting furiously at the same time, and as the index finger of his other hand slid inside my ass I came, loudly chanting for him to fuck my ass harder and get that tongue DEEPER. It seemed I closed my eyes only for a second when I felt my legs moving upward, feet dangling over something until the backs of my knees hit solidity, hands on my shoulder blades and arms against my ribcage.

I opened them to find his eyes inches from mine, wild, pupils blown wide, my juices coating his countenance and dripping down his chin, his lips glossy with it. He grinned, the salaciousness of it making me shiver, and settled the head of his cock at my entrance.

“Now, Maude. NOW I’m going to fuck you. Really, really hard.”

His hips thrust forward as he sheathed himself fully, then began bucking frenziedly. I hung like a rag doll in his grasp, still limp from orgasm, allowing his pounding to move me until he froze, asking me to hold myself up for a moment as he first removed his shirt, then my own, as well as my bra. My legs still over his shoulders, he leaned forward, bending me almost completely in half in order to press his chest to mine, arms behind me and holding me up once again. His thrusting resumed and grew ever desperate, his eyes never leaving mine. I could feel myself nearing the top of another peak, the tension in my belly becoming too powerful to ignore, and I clamped down on him.

His eyes closed for a second, then opened as he fought to keep himself from coming. “Is your pussy still lonely, Maude?”

I shook my head, my hands reaching up to touch his face, his cheekbones under my fingertips, then his jaw, and his still moist lips. “No. Nope. Not. Happy. Full. She’s very, very full…but there’s still a little bit of room in there if you have, you know, a little something ELSE for her.” I released, then squeezed again, and again. His balls slapped against me noisily as he resumed his onslaught, grunting and groaning and gasping.

“Oh, I have some…some…something…for…ohgodohgod…fuck me, I’m coming, I’m COMING and COMING…”

I came as well as his warmth coated my shuddering walls, and he was so lost in pleasure that he let go of me, and I found myself looking at an upside-down dining table as my head and neck sprawled backward over the countertop. I could hear his usual post-orgasm noises, tiny gasps and chirps and moans, and as the blood rushed to my head I thought perhaps I should mention my precarious position but he took notice before I was able to form the words.

“Oh, fuck, Maude, my god, I’m SO sorry are you all right?” He put one arm around my upper shoulders, bracing me as he pulled out and eased my legs off his shoulders, then peered behind me to see if I’d hurt myself on the edge of the counter. “Christ, what a tit I am…are you okay?” He felt around with his fingers, and when I didn’t flinch he pulled me up so I was sitting, dribbling cum all over the orange surface beneath me.

“I. Am. Fine. Fine. And I think…I think the espresso might be wearing off. I’m actually a little…tired.” I snickered. “Could just be the blood draining back into my body, though.”

His head hung down, shaking back and forth, then lifted to pepper my face with kisses. “I’m so, so sorry about that. I just…I came so hard I couldn’t…I couldn’t see, really.” It was his turn to snicker. “Thanks for that. Maude Gallagher, supplier of orgasms so powerful that she jeopardizes her own personal safety in the process.”

I kissed him, tasting myself on his lips. “I blame the espresso. And Simon.” He laughed, and I paused, reviewing my vocalizations. “I was loud, wasn’t I?” He nodded. “I hope they heard me. That’ll teach him a lesson he won’t soon forget.”

Tom chuckled. “Love, I’m afraid the neighbors two houses down may have heard you. And anyone walking by on the street. And people in their cars with the windows up…”

“Yeah. Well. They should probably, you know, get used to it.”

He initiated the kiss this time, his tongue thrusting in to massage mine. “They’d better. Because I love making you scream. Maybe more than Shakespeare, even.”

“Thomas. Be serious.”

He grinned. “I AM being serious. And I’ve decided that I do, in fact, love it more than Shakespeare. Without a doubt.”

I sat, motionless and wordless, for a few moments. “How am I supposed to respond to that kind of compliment?”

He licked me, tongue starting at my clavicle, moving up my neck, across my jaw and up to my temple. “Let me make you scream again?”

My head tilted as I looked up at the ceiling, pretending to ponder. “You know what? That totally works for me.”

#your light in the mist #one shot #been shopping

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hiraethstill · 6 years

Text

Coincidentally

Ushijima Wakatoshi, being the work-oriented sort of person he was, never expected have a strange soulmate or soulmates, if any at all. But he couldn't deny the quotes, one on each arm, that said "I'll pay you to watch my dog while I punch this guy in the face” and "Fucking shit hell holy fuck wow oh my god Jesus H. Christ fuck me." Needless to say, he was curious as to what kind of situation would require those to be the first words his soulmates spoke to him, and couldn’t deny that some part of him looked forward to the day he'd meet these two, even if his main priority was volleyball instead of romance.

It was a particularly warm evening as he was heading home from practice that he stopped outside his favorite coffee shop, wondering whether he should treat himself. For some reason, he was hungrier than usual, and he had to admit that this particular cafe’s lemon squares were always a welcome exception to his generally moderate, healthy diet.

He could already feel himself giving in, and pushed open the door. The interior was as cheery as always, inviting him in like a slice of home. Maybe he'd stay for a little bit. It wasn't as if anyone was waiting for him at his apartment anyway.

As pleasant as it was inside, every table was occupied, so he pushed back through the door, eyes already scanning for an empty spot.

What he didn't expect was for a dog leash to be slammed into his chest, along with the words, “I’ll pay you to watch my dog while I punch this guy in the face.”

Semi Eita didn't have his soulmates’ first words to him somewhere on his body. What he did have was a wonderful collie named Ensō that made up for a demanding boyfriend he didn't want to see anymore. Instead of quotes, there were two timers ticking down the minutes on his ankles, which he could easily hide from the windbag who was sitting across from him now in an outdoor cafe.

Leaning down, Semi pretended to pet Ensō but casually lifted the right leg of his jeans to look at the timer that was always slightly ahead.

The timer was almost down to zero.

Across the table, the boyfriend had irritably leaned over to see what he was looking at instead of him, and suddenly stood, chair scraping the floor, immediately starting to yell about how Semi hadn't told him he had a soulmate and was just stringing him along for no reason.

Semi stood too, getting angrier about the situation until, seething, he tugged on Ensō's leash and shoved it into the chest of the nearest stranger.

"I'll pay you to watch my dog while I punch this guy in the face," he growled, not even looking at the person.

But just as he was about to give his unwelcome date a piece of his mind with his fists, he felt a hand on his shoulder. It didn't seem as though it was there to hold him back, but it served to distract him just enough to still his thoughts for a moment.

“Is there a problem?” the stranger asked calmly.

Sneering, the boyfriend sized the stranger up, lips curling distastefully even though the newcomer was much taller and broader than him. “Mind your own fucking business.”

That was when Semi snapped, punching the guy in the face.

While he staggered away with a bloody nose, the wait staff came out to usher all three of them out of the shop, finding Semi screaming at the guy to never show his face to him again. The newcomer quietly waved them off, saying he would take care of it, and he and Ensō nudged Semi toward the exit after the man who'd stumbled out. He also took a few napkins from a table and offered them to him as they sat on the curb.

"Are you alright...?" he asked hesitantly, turning to fully face him.

Semi could now actually study his face, and was taken a little aback at the austere countenance. It was almost as if looking upon the face of an eagle in human form, and he could feel the concern from the slight wrinkle in his brow. Even the frown was almost graceful, and he fought the will to stare.

Blinking to clear his thoughts, Semi nodded and took the napkins gratefully. "Bastard couldn't get away with it forever."

Suddenly his eyes widened, and he checked his ankle frantically. It had to be there. It had to be ticking down. It couldn’t have--

The timer had already stopped.

"Shit!" He buried his face in his hands. How could he let this happen? While screaming at his now ex-boyfriend, he'd let the chance of meeting his first soulmate slip away. The weight of his heart grew tenfold, squeezing in on itself in an attempt to burst.

"Is something wrong?" The tone of the person next to him didn’t vary all that much in pitch, but Semi could discern the faint undercurrent of concern. He wanted so badly to say it wasn’t okay, and something about the stranger…

"Yeah,” he said, taking a deep breath. “My soulmate timer stopped, and if my soulmate was in there, they probably think I'm a nutjob and fled."

There was no pause before the newcomer’s next words.

"No need to worry about that. I don’t believe you are a nutjob."

Tendou Satori had only ever seen the world in boring shades of gray. It made him a little wistful when others talked about colors so offhandedly, or did simple things like driving or watching a movie, but he’d grown used to it. It wasn’t as if he needed color for his job or home anyway, and he got by just fine. There was some theory about the world bursting into color once one found their soulmate, but he didn’t really believe in that sort of thing, and didn’t need to, in his opinion, and hated it when people pitied or made fun of him for something he couldn’t help.

Maybe that was why he loved animals so much. A dog wouldn’t judge or baby him for being different. A cat would regard him just like any other lowly human. Maybe he belonged more in the world of animals than humans, as isolated as he was in human society anyway.

Speaking of dogs, there was one sniffing curiously at him right now, nosing at him in a friendly way. Smiling, Tendou stooped to pet it, wondering briefly where the owner was. There was a leash trailing from its collar, so probably not too far away. He tugged at the collar until the tag was displayed clearly. Ensō, the tag read. There was a number and an address as well, written in slanted, loopy writing.

Tendou looked up and around as the dog - Ensō - rested its head in his lap, looking for whomever might have left it there. The only other people around were two men sitting on the curb not far away, so he steeled himself and walked over. Before he said anything, however, both of them turned around.

They were gorgeous, rivalling any guy he’d picked up at the bar to stave off his loneliness. The one on the right had light hair, ends tipped dark as if dyed, and soft, relieved eyes as he reached out for the dog, which immediately came to him. It seemed as though those eyes could be as hard as iron as well, full of fighting spirit. Tendou barely registered the dog anymore, focusing on the man on the left with the neat haircut and the chiseled jaw. His brain to mouth filter, if he’d had one in the first place, stopped working, and he blurted the first words that came to mind.

"Fucking shit hell holy fuck wow oh my god Jesus H. Christ fuck me."

Had he really just said that? Sure, he’d said some embarrassing things to people before. Sure, he’d had a few one-night stands, but never regretted it before, never lost his cool so blatantly, and in the first few minutes to boot.

Before he could thoroughly process what he’d said, however, the bigger man stood and held out a hand, face passive but eyes subtly glinting with what seemed to be curiosity at the very least.

“So you’re the last one. What’s your name?”

Tendou took the hand, unsure of what else to do. “Tendou Satori? What am I the last one for?”

Even as he said it, he started to notice something different about the man’s face. The monotone shades were starting to drift in and out, giving way to - was that brown?

Tendou whipped his head toward the other one, the one with dyed tips. The first things that struck him was the hair, fading out of subtle grayish tones and into what his mind registered as blonde. Ash blonde. When he turned his head back to the taller man, it was the eyes that caught his attention, a deep olive color.

Entranced, he looked back and forth between them, watching as colors slowly spread across their faces and the rest of their bodies, bled into the surroundings and lit up the sky with fiery shades, the trees with vibrant green, the buildings with more than just monochrome.

Was this color?

“Are you alright?”

He turned back to the first man, whose hand he still held, and dropped it.

“I am… I'm at one hundred twenty percent!” A laugh escaped him, and he couldn't stop, even twirling once. He misjudged his balance, however, and went stumbling into the second man, only able to grin at him. There must have been something in his face other than the usually creepy leer, because Dyed Tips smiled tentatively back, gripping his arms to right him.

“Semi Eita,” Dyed Tips offered. “We’re all soulmates, apparently.”

“Yes, and I am Ushijima Wakatoshi,” the first man said, placing a hand on both Semi and Tendou’s shoulders. “Since you seemed to have spaced out earlier.” He directed the last bit at Tendou, not unkind but blunt nonetheless.

All Tendou could feel at the moment was a giddy sensation welling in his gut, and he couldn't stop grinning.

“Well,” he said. “We are going to have so much fun!”

I’ve finally finished this, after so long, and hey, why not post it for 1,000 followers? This is a huge milestone, and I really wish I had the time to individually thank every single one of you all over again, but I hope this is alright for some sort of gift since I never got the chance to do something for 500.

I’m really sorry I haven’t made a bigger deal out of all of your support, but I really do cherish every single follower and mutual of mine, so thank you, all of you. <3

#ushijima wakatoshi #tendou satori #semi eita #ushitensemi #haikyuu!!

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bigbanggot7stories · 7 years

Text

Across the Hall (Part 1)

I’d just like to say that general admission for the Museum of Fine Arts in Houston was free the day after the concert, and bitch I love me some art/history/free things, so my friend and I went and I loved it. This is going to be kind of an exaggeration of my actual experience going to this concert with my best friend, so I hope you like it! Anywhooo………I’m gonna try to write my first smut, okay? Okay. Let’s see how this goes!

Fluff/Smut/Angst

Kwon Jiyong x Reader

____________________

“God, I still can’t believe it’s here. Can you believe it?”

I shook my head and chuckled, keeping my eyes on the road ahead of me while my best friend, Ash, set up a playlist of G-Dragon’s set list. It was finally here, and even at the beginning of a 3.5-hour road trip to Houston, we couldn’t calm our nerves. It might have been eight in the morning the day before the concert, but we were determined to have a little fun before we had the best time of our lives. Plus, it wouldn’t hurt if we just happened to run into the one and only Kwon Jiyong.

“I know, I still can’t believe I made the fucking impulse decision to buy the damn tickets with my entire paycheck. And maybe without my parents being too entirely happy with it.”

“Honestly, let’s not even talk about it. Like Meme said, let’s just go and have fun!” I smiled at the nickname for my grandma. She was so pumped for this concert for me that I almost felt bad for not buying her a ticket. After all, she was the only person in my family that would jam to Kwon Jiyong’s newest album and fangirl over T.O.P. with me.

“That’s true, I guess. But thank God we both found good paying jobs. Oh, and probably also that you were able to get off for the rest of this week! Could you imagine doing this with the little money we made before we got our degrees?” We laughed at the thought of traveling to Houston with the small amount of money we made at our part time jobs. Ash was working at a hospital closer to home after graduation until she would move on to grad school in California, and I was lucky to land a training job with a Fortune 500 company that allowed me to work from home, traveling occasionally, and keep my law internship before moving on to law school. To say the very least, we were lucky.

“I know, right? We wouldn’t have been able to afford this nice ass hotel we’re staying at, either. It would have been the Rat-Hole 6 or something.” She laughed, taking a swig from the coffee cup I had just placed in the cup holder.

“Hey! Should’ve gotten your own!” I chastised, but smiled. “So true. I guess we could call this our late graduation present.”

Ash agreed with me, and we soon slid into a comfortable silence, jamming out to the songs we would soon hear live with our own ears.

Walking into the hotel lobby had Ash’s eyes bulging out of her head before we even made it ten feet toward the front desk. She was not prepared for the 30-foot ceilings and the luxury furniture dotting the room. She took in the bellhops, the restaurants on either side of the lobby, and the bar smack in the middle. When her eyes landed on the bar, I knew exactly what she was thinking. I smirked and took her by the elbow, dragging her slightly until we made it to the check-in line.

“I know, that was my exact reaction the first time the company sent me to New York. I think I almost fainted until someone brought me water. It was fucking nuts.”

I smiled as I watched her continue to take in the grand lobby, remembering that first trip to New York. The forty-story building being something out of a movie for small-town Y/N, and I had never been even close to that kind of treatment. It was still hard getting used to the luxury hotels even after the numerous trips I had taken. In fact, I hadn’t planned on staying at this hotel during this trip, but when I mentioned taking off for the concert to my boss, she insisted we use her membership and have a good time. I was not about to pass up that offer.

“And, if you want, we can even get massages in the spa. I know you’ve been pretty stressed lately,” I mentioned, causing Ash to whip her head in my direction.

“You’re not serious, are you? Oh my gosh, that would be so great, honestly.”

I laughed and nodded my head, finally stepping up to one of the workers at the front desk to check in. We found ourselves put on the 18th floor, and while approaching the elevators, we noticed a small group of three men waiting for an elevator to make it to the lobby. As the doors sung open, we followed the men into the elevator, stopping dead in our tracks as the doors closed and we came face to face with the men we were riding with.

There, leaning against the railing of the back wall of the elevator, was the man himself: Mr. Kwon Jiyong. As we made eye contact, both his manager and body guard opened their mouths to say something. I quickly made a small oh and spun on my heel to punch in our floor number.

“Ohhh no,” I said, seeing the button for the 18th floor already lit up. From beside me, I heard a small gasp, causing me to whip my friend around to face the doors of the elevator.

“Isn’t tha-“ Ash had no time to finish her sentence as I slapped a hand over her mouth and shook my head with wide eyes. I was in shock, to say the least, and I had no idea what to do other than avoid and ignore. I had dreamt about running into GD randomly and creating a wonderful relationship out of a small encounter, but now that it was actually happening, I couldn’t even turn to look at the superstar. From behind us, I heard a chuckle and a throat being cleared.

“Uhm, excuse me—miss?” His manager slightly tapped me on the shoulder. “Aren’t you going to push your floor?”

Ash looked past me toward the numbers and gasped again. “Holy shit,” she said barely loud enough for even me to hear.

“Um I—uh…we’re on the 18th floor, too…” I stuttered quietly, flashing my key cards in his direction as proof. As Ash and I exchanged looks of shock, the three men started speaking to each other lowly in Korean.

Ash nudged my side, knowing full well I could understand them, but I was reluctant to listen in on their conversation. After receiving dirty looks, however, I finally gave in to both Ash and my own curiosity.

“All I’m saying is that maybe you should switch with me. You might not have a body guard right down the hall, but you won’t have fans bombarding you,” his manager whispered, trying to make his tone light-hearted to mask their heavier conversation from us.

“Is it really that big of a deal, though? I mean, they aren’t even being annoying right now. I think I can handle this one, man.” My legs almost melted at the sound of Jiyong’s smooth voice, and the sound almost kept me from hearing his body guard’s response.

“Yeah, but you never know. They could just be in shock. Didn’t you see the girl in the camo? She looks like she might be a crazy one when the shock dies down.”

Before I could stop myself, I gasped and whipped my head in his direction, sending off a glare that met three confused and bewildered faces. My eyes widened with the realization that I had just given myself away, and I was lucky when Ash pulled me out of the elevator.

“Oh, yeah, she speaks Korean, by the way!” she yelled behind her, speed-walking with me in tow. As we rounded the corner closer to our room, a maid dropped a stack of folded towels right in front of us.

“Oh, miss, I am so sorry,” she began, but I cut her off by reaching down to help her pick up her fallen linens.

“Please, don’t apologize, accidents happen.” As I smiled up at the maid, Ash started to chuckle and look past us to the three men also coming down the same hallway as our room. I sprung up to get closer to our room, taking the key out of its sleeve to unlock to door.

As I make my way quickly into the room, Ash yells behind her. “Oh, and she’s a huge fan of yours!”

Throwing my bags on the ground and myself on one of the beds, I covered my face in embarrassment.

“So, what did they say in the elevator?” Ash asked, scanning the room with her newly found luxury. I sighed and sat up, looking at my outfit in the mirror across from me. My ripped jeans were hiding under the oversized t-shirt and camo jacket, and my black boots were now hanging half-way off my feet as I tried to get comfortable. My face was red as I took off the yellow-tinted glasses I was wearing to look at my best friend.

“Basically, they’re worried about GD being on the same floor as us, he doesn’t seem to mind much, and then the big guy said we could be crazy and that the ‘girl in the camo’ looks like the crazy one,” I said, using my fingers to quote the air before resting my chin in my hand.

“Wow, I guess I’m not the crazy one anymore.”

-----

Later that afternoon, Ash and I headed downstairs to dinner and to find a liquor store that sold cheaper alcohol that what they sold by the drink at the bar inside the hotel. We briefly ran into GD and his entourage as we left our room, finding Jiyong to be in the room exact opposite from ours. We ate an expensive burger at one of the restaurants in the hotel, and by the time we made it back to our room after shopping around and buying a good-sized bottle of vodka, it was midnight.

We made ourselves drinks and talked about the events of that day, and how lucky we were to see GD up close and personal, even if his body guard said I looked crazy. In the end, we decided to brush it off and take it as him just doing his job. After all, we wouldn’t want him to slack off and put Jiyong in actual danger if we really were super crazy. As we finished off our drinks, I continued to tell Ash how excited I was for the concert the next night, only to find her sound asleep when I turned to face her. Although I wanted to keep talking to her all night, I knew she was tired and figured I should get some rest, too.

Thirty minutes later, however, I realized I was just not getting any sleep. Slipping out of bed, I shoved my feet in a pair of slippers and threw a silk robe over the shorts and tank top I had put on for bed. I grabbed my phone and a room key before quietly making my way down the hall to the sitting area next to a wall of windows. I sat in the silence of the night, watching the way the city lights twinkled across the sky, something I had found a fascination with in every city I stayed in. As I took a couple of photos with my phone, I noticed a tall figure out of the corner of my eye plopping themselves down in the chase across from me, making me yelp and jump a foot into the air above my seat.

“Hey, oh, I’m really sorry, I didn’t mean to scare you,” the voice cooed with a heavy accent, seeming to be laced with genuine concern.

When I brought my crossed arms away from my face, my mouth automatically positioned itself into a perfect ‘o’ as I got a good look at the man in front of me. Jiyong’s face shifted from concern to a shy smile as we made eye contact, and I curiously scanned him for any signs of potential danger. He might have been my personal favorite artist, but it was 2 AM and this was a hotel. He chuckled and scooted to the edge of his chair, extending his hand towards my guarded figure.

“Sorry, I just recognized you from the elevator and thought I would introduce myself. I’m Jiyong, but I’m guessing you already knew that? I don’t mean that to sound very…full of myself, I just never know how to introduce myself to people who are already…you know, who already know me.” His smile was wide, and I found myself relaxing as I reached for his outstretched hand.

“Y/N. Sorry about the incident in the elevator. I really didn’t want you worrying about two fangirls when you’re in your hotel. I bet it could get really annoying to not have much privacy,” I explained, trying to make the situation earlier seem less awkward. “And please, if you would prefer you can speak to me in Korean. As my friend, Ash, kindly yelled out, I do speak it pretty well.”

He smiled and leaned back into his chair. “Thank you, really. My English is pretty good, but it’s hard sometimes to gather my thoughts. Are you fluent?”

“I guess so. I’ve been speaking it since I was maybe twelve. It’s a long story, but it has to do with my grandfather and my impending business career,” I laughed, waving him off.

“That’s really cool, though. It’s tough to learn a language other than your mother tongue. Believe me, Japanese and Cantonese kick my ass.”

I laughed and gave him a big smile. “So, what are you doing out here this late, anyhow? And without your babysitters? Oh, sorry, I really hope that isn’t rude…” I started to backtrack, realizing how it sounded.

“No, it’s true! Sometimes I need a break from them,” he genuinely laughed, a sound I had never heard through the internet. “I just sometimes can’t sleep and need some time for myself, you know? It sometimes gets lonely in a big hotel room that’s big enough to sleep a family of four. Sometimes I just get…lonely. Anyways, why are you out here at 2 in the morning? You can’t even use jet lag as your excuse!”

“Oh, I just couldn’t sleep. Ash fell asleep on me and I just thought I’d sit out here for a bit. Just feeling a little grateful for my life right now,” I smiled before continuing in a small voice. “Plus, I’m pretty excited for your concert tomorrow.”

Jiyong threw his head back with a laugh, a sound I was beginning to crave after the little time we had been sitting together. “Well I hope I don’t disappoint.”

“I’m sure you’ll be fantastic.”

He smiled and his gaze felt heavy on my cheeks, causing me to flush with embarrassment.

“So, what do you do for a living?”

“Well, I just got my bachelor’s degree almost a year ago in Business Management, and I landed a big job right before graduation at this huge company writing their training programs. It’s a really great job. I get to work from home, unless I’m traveling to give a seminar. I originally had plans to go to law school, I even have an internship with some pretty big lawyers in my area, but I’m not sure anymore. It’s not official yet, but a CEO position is in the works with a company that my grandfather was close with. I don’t know, we’ll see. Anyways, it actually sounds pretty boring out loud. It definitely dulls in comparison to your job,” I chuckled, leaning up against the back of the lounge chair I sat on.

“No, no! You sound like a very dedicated person. I like that. What do you want to do? Do you want to go to law school?” He leaned forward, seemingly interested in my answer. This was bizarre. My favorite superstar sitting across me, asking me about my life, and genuinely being interested. I could feel my entire body heating up in the center of his attention.

“I mean, I do. I did. I don’t know, this CEO position will allow me to travel and have creative influence on the products and projects. I just almost feel like I’m not earning it, you know? Like I’m only being offered because my grandfather was some big shot. I work really hard for what I have, and I don’t like the icky feeling when someone tells me I only have what I have because of who my grandfather was. I mean, he wasn’t even that present in my life.”

When I was finished, Jiyong sat with his lips pursed for a few seconds before responding to my spiel. “Well, maybe you aren’t being given the position, maybe you were chosen because of your drive. From what little you’ve told me, you seem like a very dedicated and hard-working person. Maybe you should give it a shot; you can always go back to law school if it ever comes back up.”

For the first time that night, I gave him the biggest smile I had to give. We sat in a comfortable silence, gazing out the window to the city beyond. It was nice, but I was afraid our moment would be cut short any time soon.

“So, are you really that lonely?”

Jiyong’s gaze slowly met mine before it drifted off to the city lights again. He stood and approached the window, sliding his hands in his pocket with a sigh.

“Sometimes. When I’m performing, I feel the adrenaline and I am so grateful for the life I was given. Not that I’m not grateful when I’m off the stage, too…”

I timidly made my way to his left side, standing a couple of feet from his position in front of the window. “But other times, I feel like everything and everyone is watching my every fucking move and I have to be beyond perfect. It’s suffocating sometimes.”

I watched as he used his index finger to outline the buildings of the skyline in front of us on the glass. “I can understand that. It’s like when you’ve been carrying a box full of shit just fine until someone starts watching you and says, ‘hey don’t drop that,’ and you fucking drop it.”

“Great metaphor,” he chuckled.

“But seriously, you shouldn’t have to sacrifice your own happiness and well-being for someone else’s. It’s human nature to want to create the most happiness, but sometimes we forget that we can only feel our own, you know? It’s hard to do, I know. I’m probably being really hypocritical right now, but I do believe it.”

Jiyong turned on his side, leaning his slim frame against the thick glass of the window to look at me with a small smile on his face.

“I really enjoy listening to you talk,” he said, no doubt turning my face into a tomato.

I hadn’t realized we were standing so close until he took a hand out of his pocket to move the piece of hair I didn’t know was dangling at the side of my face. It was a seemingly innocent gesture at first, swiping at it as a good friend would, but when his hand slid past my cheek and behind my ear, I noticed the first glance towards my mouth. His tongue darted across his bottom lip and I found myself leaning in closer to the sight. When our lips touched, it seemed like the world had stopped turning for a second. The kiss was light and sweet, his lips soft and his mouth tasting slightly of spearmint and tobacco. He held my face delicately in his hands, as if he might break me if he held on too hard, and my hands moved up to rest on his stomach. I was definitely turning into putty in his hands, and I knew he was getting weaker with every peck.

Suddenly, a gasp interrupted us, and we jumped apart in shock. The cleaning lady quietly and quickly said her apologies before rushing past the sitting area, avoiding any and all eye contact. I looked over to see Jiyong’s pink face with his hand rubbing the back of his neck in embarrassment. He shyly looked over at me and smiled, running a finger through his hair.

“I’m sorry.”

“Why are you sorry?” I asked, crossing my arms in defense.

“I shouldn’t have done that without…warning, I guess? Being so in the open? I don’t really know what I’m apologizing for. I’m definitely not sorry for liking it,” he smiled, taking a few steps closer.

“I—uh…yeah,” I said, hanging my head down to hide my flushing cheeks.

“Anyways, do you want to hang out a little more in my room?” he said before his eyes went wide and he started backtracking. “I-I…I mean you don’t have to if it would make you uncomfortable, I just wanted to hang out with you some more and I didn’t want to chance someone who knows who I am seeing and I know your friend is asleep so I just thought…you definitely don’t have to if you don’t want to.” I smiled as he became visibly anxious, hoping I didn’t take his invitation the wrong way.

“Sure, I’m really not very tired anyways.”

------

The mood was light and fun as Jiyong and I sat cross-legged on his bed playing Never-Have-I-Ever with our fingers. We had learned many things about each other, including Jiyong’s embarrassing mistake of getting in the wrong car and his concert being the first I would ever attend the next day.

“I cannot believe you have never been to a concert before!”

“Nope, you’re going to be my first,” I said, causing us both to laugh at my choice of words.

“Well, how about you and Ash come to the rehearsal, too? I can get you tickets and backstage passes, if you want.”

I stared at him in bewilderment and wondered just how I got into this situation, sitting in front of the one and only G-Dragon, being offered VIP tickets. “Uhh—yeah! That would be so cool! I mean, if you are okay with it, I guess,” I said, backing off when I heard my inner fangirl bubble at the surface.

“Okay, then. Now, it’s my turn I believe. Never have I ever…” he looked down at his one remaining finger and my two while strategically thinking. “Never have I ever ridden a horse.”

“What?! Oh, come on!” I cried as I held up one remaining finger. “You’ve seriously never ridden a horse? Not even when Youngbae rode one for the Bae Bae music video?”

“Nope, not even then. I’ve always wanted to, though!”

“Ugh, okay. Well let’s see…I’ve got to make you lose.”

“Wait! I have an idea. Loser grants winner one wish. Deal?”

I eyed him warily before nodding my head in agreement. “Okay, fine. I have the perfect one. Never have I ever made out with a dancer!”

He laughed and pointed his remaining finger at me. “Not true! You just kissed me!”

“You’re far from a dancer!” I fought back, making Jiyong fall back onto the bed in a fit of laughter.

“That’s fair, but also…” he said, sitting back up. “I’ve never made out with a dancer, either.”

He laughed again when my eyes widened and my mouth hung open.

“What!? Ugh, okay, lay it on me.”

Jiyong contemplated for a minute, tapping his finger on his lips, showing you every chance he got that he was still in the game. After a while, an evil grin took over his face, and I nervously awaited his statement.

“Never have I ever…made out with someone of the same sex. And kissing and making out is totally different, by the way.”

I gaped at him, eyeing him up and down before slowly pulling my last remaining finger down into my palm.

“What?! I didn’t really think it would make you lose.”

“It was a long time ago, I was drunk, let’s move on,” I said, falling back onto the bed.

“Okay, okay. I guess it doesn’t really matter, since I won! You owe me one wish, Y/N.”

“Okay, Jiyong, one wish. What is it your tiny black heart desires?” I asked, leaning up on my elbows to look at him.

Jiyong laughed and leaned forward slightly before whispering his wish.

“Kiss me.”

My head whipped in Jiyong’s direction as he made his wish, biting my lip when I found him already staring at my mouth.

“Well, I mean, I don’t want to be a sore loser,” I said before sitting up better to reach his face.

He slowly leaned into me, our noses barely grazing each other’s until our lips finally touched for the second time that night. His lips were still soft, his most still tasted intoxicating, but unlike the kiss before, this one was a little firmer, a little hungrier. He pulled away for a brief moment as a sort of test before he repositioned his lips back onto mine. I placed my hand on the back of Jiyong’s neck, pulling him into me more as he took it as a sign to deepen the kiss. His hands found my hips, pulling on me until I was straddling his waist as he sat flush against the headboard.

He sucked my bottom lip into his mouth, eliciting a small moan from the bottom of my throat. I could feel him smile into the kiss, and I decided to get a little revenge by biting lightly on his lip while gently pulling at the end of his hair. The groan I received in return was more than enough to set me on fire, subconsciously moving my hips slightly into his. As my clothed core made contact with his sweat pant-clad bulge, we both made an audible gasp, our lips parting for a mere second, and Jiyong pushed his hips further up to meet mine.

With our hips still moving together and his bulge growing bigger and bigger, Jiyong pushed his hands up under my tank top to caress my waist and slip his hands past the back side of my shorts. He soon left my mouth to trail his kisses down to the base of my neck, to the backside of my ear, and the top of my cleavage. All the while, the feeling of his rough fingers sent shivers down my spine, and I flung my rode across the room in one quick motion. Jiyong chuckled into my neck and continued to raise my tank top until it sat just above my bra, suddenly trailing his hands back down my side.

In frustration, I unhooked my bra and pulled it off along with my tank top in a rush. Jiyong’s mouth left my body to gawk at my chest, and I suddenly became very aware of my naked breasts, covering them with my arms as my face and neck turned red.

“Don’t, baby.”

Jiyong’s eyes were full of adoration as he peeled my arms away from my chest and rested them on his clothed chest. He reached up to take a breast in each hand, rubbing the pads of his thumbs over each nipple gently. I threw my head back at the feeling of him touching me, letting a small moan run past my lips.

Jiyong’s t-shirt soon became a barrier that needed to go, and he was more than happy to shed the material when I tugged on the hem. Our lips reattached briefly before he flipped us over, nestling himself comfortably between my legs. I moaned into his mouth as I felt his dick pressing against my core through our clothes, twitching my hips up in need of that sweet, sweet friction. His kisses began to travel once again down my body, leaving open mouthed kisses down my chest, on each of my nipples, and trailing down my stomach until he reached the hem of my shorts.

He looked up at me and I moaned as he hooked his index fingers into the top of my shorts, pulling them down slowly until I was left in my dark blue panties. He came back to my mouth, kissing me urgently as his fingers slowly outlined my lips through my panties. The slower he traced, the wetter I became, and I was soon pulling on his hair and wanting more. His lips left mine and he locked eyes with me as his hand slipped inside my panties, my mouth dropping open in pleasure.

“Damn, baby, you’re so wet. Who made you this wet?” The sweet, shy boy that had innocently invited me into his room was long gone, and all I could do was moan in response.

Jiyong’s body once again moved down my body until his mouth hovered over my clothed core. He placed an open-mouthed kiss to the outside of my panties, just south of my clit, before he vigorously tore off my panties in one swift motion. I thrusted my hips up with the new-found breeze, but Jiyong locked his arms around my knees to keep me in place as he kissed around my lips.

“Fuck, would you just—please baby,” I moaned as he finally plunged his tongue deeply along my slit. His tongue worked hard as I moved the little I could under his hold. He looked up at me as he came up to suck on my clit, driving me closer to the edge that I was already quickly approaching.

As I pushed my fingers through his hair, Jiyong circled his index finger around my opening, slowly pushing it in as I began to moan louder at my approaching orgasm. His mouth sped up to drive me off the edge, and his finger curled up to hit a sweet spot as I spasmed and crunched up with the intensity of my release.

I twitched as I pulled on his head, trying to pull his mouth away from my oversensitive lower half. When he finally made his way up to my mouth, he replaced it with the flat of his hand, slowly rubbing me in soothing circles.

Jiyong sweetly kissed my lips, as if he hadn’t just given me the best orgasm of my life, and I laid there trying to catch my breath.

“Oh my god.”

“Yes?” He giggled, the cockiness vanishing as a genuinely caring smile graced his face.

I pulled him by the neck to kiss him again when I noticed he was still in his sweatpants, a dangerously hard cock just waiting to be freed.

“Um, Jiyong? You need some help here?” I said, ghosting my hand over the outline of his hardness through his pants.

“Oh, please. I thought you would never ask,” he groaned as I slipped my hand inside his boxers.

I pushed him down on the bed beside me before kissing down his chest and pulling his boxers down along with his sweatpants. The sight of his erection made me tingle, and I settled myself between his spread legs. I looked up at Jiyong as I lightly licked the tip of his length, sliding my hand down the shaft towards the base. I slowly started to move my hand as I engulfed the head of his cock, watching as his face contorted in pure bliss. His hand came down to the back of my head, and I welcomed the slight thrust he gave for me to take more of him into my mouth.

As I moaned around his dick, he screwed his eyes shut, stroking and moving the hair out of my face. Suddenly, Jiyong pulled me away from him, causing me to look up in confusion.

“I want to fuck you, so bad.”

All I did was nod before Jiyong sprang off the bed in search of a condom he had seen in his suitcase. When he returned, I spread my legs in anticipation, rubbing my still-sensitive clit until he managed to roll the condom on.

Jiyong placed a pillow under my lower back and lent down to kiss me sweetly. As we kissed, I could feel his tip lightly pushing against my entrance, and it took all that I had to not buck my hips and force him to enter me.

“Are you ready?” He whispered against my ear.

“Yes, baby, please.” I would have usually hated that I sounded so whiny, but in the moment, all I could care about was feeling him deep inside of me.

He slowly entered me, giving me time to adjust to his cock, and paused when he was all the way in. I threw my head back in pleasure at the feeling of him filling me up, and in no time I was ready for him to move.

“Jiyong, please move. It feels so good.”

The moment the words left my mouth, Jiyong was drilling into me with more might and speed than I had ever experienced with any past boyfriend. He was set at a relentless pace, and I was going to cum any minute.

“I’m c-cumming, oh my god!”

Instead of letting up, Jiyong fucked straight through my second orgasm, and a few strokes later, he emptied himself into the condom. He collapsed onto my chest, keeping his weight on his elbows, as he buried his face into my neck, placing soft kisses there. He finally peeled himself away from my sticky body and threw the condom away, quickly making his way back to the bed.

“You can stay here, if you want?” Jiyong commented, not waiting for a response before throwing the duvet over our naked bodies and pressing himself up against my backside. I hid my face behind my hand and nodded, a smile taking over my pink-tinged face.

“Why not?” I said, turning to peck his lips one last time before sleep overtook us.

#Kwon Jiyong #kwon jiyong scenario #kwon jiyong scenarios #gdragon #g-dragon #g dragon #gdragon scenarios #gdragon scenario #G-Dragon Scenario #g dragon scenarios #bigbang #bigbang scenario #bigbang scenarios #big bang scenarios #gdragon bigbang #kpop scenarios

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superman86to99 · 7 years

Photo

Adventures of Superman #500 (June 1993)

OVERSIZED ANNIVERSARY ISSUE! Featuring the return of Superman! And Superman! And Superman, and also, Superman! But first: The Badass Adventures of Pa Kent in Hell. The last time we saw ol’ Pa, he’d just had a heart attack and seen a ghostly vision of his dead son (that’s Superman, for those joining us), who grabbed his hand and pulled Pa towards him. Now Ghost Superman is like, “Whelp, nice seeing you dad, gotta go.”

Superman is taken “into the light” by a couple of demons disguised as robed Kryptonian ladies. However, Pa refuses to give up on his son and follows them, only to find himself in a battlefield covered with corpses -- those of his Korean War buddies. Pa is (understandably) confused and thinks he’s back in the war, carrying out a mission to rescue some captured “airman”. Private Pa then comes across a farm littered with more dead people, including one that reminds him of his brother Harry... mainly because that’s exactly who it is.

In case you hadn’t noticed, something fishy is going on here. A demonic-looking enemy soldier tries to kick Pa out of wherever the hell this is (get it? hell?), but Pa just punches him into oblivion and soldiers on. Sometimes you just gotta punch some Nazis, folks.

Next up, Pa runs into Lady Blaze, the satanic mistress/recurring Superman baddie. Blaze generously offers to help Pa find his son in exchange for one million do-- I mean, his soul. Pa apparently thinks “eh, I don’t love him that much” and prefers to jump into the void beneath him.

At this point, Pa is saved from pinballing from sad memory to sad memory for all eternity by Kismet, the nice cosmic entity Superman met a while back (“our favourite naked outer space lady in a cape”, as Don Sparrow puts it). With Kismet’s guidance, Pa finally finds Superman, but he’s in the middle of some sort of weird funeral procession carried out by more demons disguised as Kryptonians (and Superman’s old furry friend, the Cleric).

Superman has completely fallen for the show these guys put on, and is prepared to let them take him to the “Kryptonian afterlife”, but Pa eventually breaks the spell with his hollering. More punching ensues!

Superman gets rid of the demons, but he still thinks that Pa should go back to the land of living without him. He’s been gone for too long, and it’s not his place to deny death. Superman’s Kryptonian father Jor-El suddenly shows up to reinforce this notion, telling Superman to join him and his biological mother, Lara, in the afterlife. It is the natural way of things.

Naturally, Pa Kent ain’t having any of that.

Pa practically carries Superman through the portal in front of them. Cut to: Pa waking up in a hospital bed in Smallville, whispering “Clark is back” to a freaked out Ma Kent and Lois Lane.

Suddenly, Superman sightings are reported all over Metropolis -- it’s like he’s in four places at once! Lois refuses to give herself any false hopes, but just to make double-sure her fiancee is still dead, she decides to take a peek inside his tomb. Inspector Henderson opens the casket for her, and it’s... empty?!

TO BE CONTINUED! But first...

Epilogue 1: Two rival gangs are fighting over turf when one pulls out some futuristic super-weapons that literally blow the other guys to pieces. As the cops roll in, out of the rubble emerges a hulking figure saying “DOOMSDAY! GOTTA STOP DOOMSDAY!” Holy shit, it’s Superman! He’s back! Also, black!

Epilogue 2: As an evildoer tries to carjack an innocent citizen, a caped figure flies to the rescue... and blasts the absolute crap out of the would-be thief with some energy blasts, throwing him off the roof of a building. The familiar figure explains that he’s “risen from the dead” and been changed by “the fire and darkness” -- OK, that has to be Superman. There’s no other explanation.

Epilogue 3: There’s an emergency at Project Cadmus, the genetic experimentation facility that recently held Superman’s corpse: some type of secret cloning experiment has broken out before it/he was ready. We see this brash young clone being led to the outside world by the Newsboy Legion, and upon hearing the way they refer to him, he exclaims: “DON’T EVER CALL ME SUPERBOY!” Because he’s actually Superman! Oh my God!

Epilogue 4: A tourist family stops in front of the Daily Planet and reflects solemnly on the plaque marking the spot where Superman died... until a man in blue tights lands from the sky, rips out the plaque, and burns it with his heat vision. We then see that he’s got robot parts all over his body; you know, as if he’d been brought back to life after being pummelled to death by a monster. Whelp, that’s it. That’s Superman, right there.

Character-Watch:

First appearance of these four mysterious Supermen: Black Superman, Blind Superman, Brat Superman, and Beep-Bop-I’m-a-Robot Superman. Or is it?!

Creator-Watch:

This is a suitably epic finale for Jerry Ordway’s original Superman run, which started way back in 1987. Ordway went from artist to co-plotter to writer/artist to just writer, along the way pioneering the house style that all Superman series will use throughout the ‘90s. This is often called the “Byrne” and/or “Jurgens” era, but I’d argue that Ordway was the single most influential creator involved in this period, and although what comes directly after his departure is cool as hell, we’ll definitely miss the heart, humor and realism he brought to even the most obscure background characters.

Speaking of which, this wouldn’t be an Ordway comic without a shit-ton of subplots, so here we go...

Plotline-Watch:

One detail I never caught as a kid: one of the “Superman sightings” at the end of the issue is clearly a drunken Bibbo in a Superman shirt.

The Final Misadventure of Jose Degaldo: He’s been beaten, burned, broken (literally), had buildings dropped on him, and dumped by both Lois Lane and Cat Grant, but Jose “Gangbuster” Delgado has finally had enough -- he’s ditching Metropolis. A regular crime-punching adventure goes wrong when Jose accidentally beats up an undercover cop posing as a drug dealer. Upon learning there’s a warrant for his ass and getting shot by another cop, Jose decides to call it quits and leave town (using the bus ticket Inspector Henderson recently gave him). He’s actually going to Fawcett City along with his creator -- he’ll show up again in Jerry Ordway’s Power of Shazam, but that’s it for Jose in these pages! Goodbye, Suicide Slum’s rose.

Incidentally, Cat Grant is feeling rather down since she split with Jose, and her boss Vinnie Edge uses the opportunity to invite her to dinner. She agrees, even though A) her relationship with Vinnie’s son did not end well, and B) he’s a disgusting perv who just grabbed her butt. Don Sparrow says: “The interplay between Cat Grant and Vinnie Edge hasn’t aged well -- though in some ways it seems timelier than ever.”

The “favor” Vinnie mentions above is not what you might think: he wants Cat to talk to Jimmy Olsen, who has neglected his duties as star of the hit Turtle Boy TV series ever since a certain pal of Jimmy’s was violently killed. Jimmy isn’t in the mood for light-hearted TMNT copyright infringement, though, so the series is currently on reruns.

Those Turtle Boy reruns are watched by the cellmate of Oswald Loomis -- aka Superman’s least intimidating rogue, The Prankster. Loomis, once a children’s entertainer himself, doesn’t appreciate ‘90s television and tries to electrocute said cellmate (who, in my memory, was Vinnie’s son Morgan Edge, making this scene slightly less random).

Pa Kent smashing the ghostly Jor-El with a shovel that materializes out of nowhere is, of course, a shout out to John Byrne’s classic Man of Steel #6, when he does the same thing. I want a full series about Pa dispatching Kryptonian ghosts the same way. His maligned brother Harry was also mentioned in a Byrne comic, World of Smallville #1.

As usual, I’m forgetting or lazily leaving out plenty of important details, so check out Don Sparrow’s section after the jump for way more!

Art-Watch (by @donsparrow):

Even more than Superman #75, it’s this issue (and the storyline that follows) that most define this, my most beloved era of Superman comics for me. Perhaps it’s because I was actually opposed to Superman’s death, rather than excited about it, whereas with this issue, I was only completely excited, and totally curious about how they’d bring Superman back.

Still more nerdy background: as we’ve mentioned in previous blogposts, I live in the same city as Super-teamster Tom Grummett, so the fact that he drew this comic was big, big deal in my hometown. Our local comic store (which sat below Tom Grummett’s art studio upstairs) had Tom in on the day it was released to sign copies, so it was a major event. Though I was only a lad of 13 at the time, both that day, and in the years since, I bought enough copies of Adventures of Superman #500 to insulate my house with them (and so did the rest of the world, making the resale value not quite what Superman #75 was). How big of a deal was Superman’s return in my hometown? Well, we made the evening news…

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The direct market edition cover features a stunner of a painting by the great Jerry Ordway, of a ghostly Superman reaching out to Pa Kent from beyond the void. It was billed as being a removable translucent screen, but I don’t know anyone who was successfully able to remove the vellum without ruining their cover, but the softening of the add-on is very effective. The newsstand edition (remember when comics could be purchased on newsstands?) has a decidedly story-driven cover, which must have perplexed the many non-regular Superman readers who came out in droves for this big issue. It features Superman and Pa Kent floating over a background of enemies (including the demonic Blaze, which, to the uninitiated, must have been pretty spooky) with Pa Kent inexplicably in a Challengers of the Unknown looking jumpsuit. Confusion aside, it’s still a great cover, and a nice hint at all the zip-a-tone goodness we’ll find inside.

Throughout the issue, the real world and the afterlife are given very distinct visual styles, with the ‘real’ world being inked and coloured normally, and the spirit world with lots of zip-a-tone shadows and gleaming bright colours. It’s such an effective way to delineate the storylines, and man, I love how the extra shading looks on the afterlife pages. It’ll be hard to single out only a few pages, because, honestly, this is one of the best drawn comics of the era.

In the first few pages, I was struck that, despite seeing Superman in full uniform at the end of Superman #77, the Superman Jonathan Kent sees on the ‘other’ side is Clark Kent, which is a telling note about how he sees his identity. The image of Pa stripping away his Clark garb is a great one, with the mist and swirling clouds establishing we are indeed, not in Kansas anymore.

The direct market edition also has some differences within the book, in addition to the difference in cover—it has a number of full page splashes inserted into the storyline, which are missing from the newsstand edition, and each one is a stunner. The first one is Gangbuster descending a fire escape on page 6, having ignored the warnings he got from Inspector Henderson in the Superman specials that preceded this issue.

The most interesting thing about these splashes, aside from how just about every one of them would have made for some killer poster art, is how seamlessly Jerry Ordway matches the scripts. Many of the splashes contain dialogue, but if those sentences are removed (as they are in the newsstand edition) the story still makes sense, which must have been a real challenge. [Max: Oddly enough, the one flaw I’ve found in my giant Death and Return of Superman omnibus so far is that some of the dialogue from these pages is duplicated, presumably from combining pages from both editions.]

Page 9 features another great Gangbuster image, and the fight choreography in the pages that follow has a real sense of place and pace.

As we return to Pa Kent’s near death experience, the visuals go a good job of selling the story’s dreamlike conceit—“reality” is pretty flexible where he is, so as Jonathan spends time there, his thoughts get muddled in with memory, and he can lose his purpose. It really feels like a dream in that way. Also, having heard about Jonathan’s brother previously, I thought he’d look a lot worse. There’s a strange cutaway to the Prankster in these pages, and while it’s a funny little scene, it has no bearing on the story, and Prankster doesn’t pop up again in these pages for a very long time---if memory serves, until the ill-fitting reboot of his look some 80 issues later. [Max: We saw him during the Dominus storyline, but I’m not sure if that counts.]

I also love how Grummett seems to draw Prankster as looking like UK comedian Terry Thomas, which is a great fit. It’s always tricky to translate such goofy-looking characters into real people, and here, perhaps for the first time, Prankster looks like a human being and not a doughier Alfred E Neuman. (Do prisoners really get their own portable TVs? Surely this scene demonstrates the danger of such a luxury!)

The scenes of Pa Kent falling into a pit and being pulled out by Blaze are chilling, but, like the rest of the issue, doesn’t it just make you fall in love with tough, no nonsense Jonathan Kent? It’s a mini-Godwatch when he pulls a Luke Skywalker and choose oblivion over joining forces with Blaze. (Extra points for Jonathan asking the question on the minds of a lot of Superman readers—is Blaze the devil or what?)

Next up is an appearance by what would seem to be Blaze’s opposite number, Kismet, our favourite naked outer space lady in a cape. Both sides of the two-page splash are pretty stunning here.

The ersatz Kryptonian funeral is pretty interesting too. Here, Grummett walks a fine line, having the Kryptonian stuff accurate enough that we know what it’s supposed to be, but just off enough that we know something strange is going on.

Once Clark figures out that the wraiths mean him harm (has there ever been a nice wraith?) it’s so, so great to see him back in action after all these months without him. Major kudos to the colourist, here especially, but throughout the book, for the unique colours which look great here on Superman’s uniform. Plus, I always like the times when Superman loses his cape.

The visual effect of the portal back to reality is just amazing, and from their perspective, probably pretty accurate. Next to the blinding light of the afterlife, earthly life would probably seem pretty dark. That last image from the direct edition, of Superman flying through the void with Pa Kent is just such a stunner. And from a story standpoint, this is just so definitive of the Super-team. That a story about bringing back Superman is told in the most personal, meaningful way, with a chubby, balding old farmer as more or less the lead character. It’s a total rejection of the grit teeth and substance-less Image comics trend of the era in its’ wholesomeness. And I love this is how they chose to bring him back. My very favourite detail, that I came back to again and again was that the heartbeat that returns to Pa Kent’s monitor goes across his panel, into the panel of Superman’s tomb. So subtle, and so, so awesome.

The four page previews kicking off the Reign storyline are almost an issue unto themselves, but I love how all the eye-witness accounts from page 45 are later seen within issues, and give clues to very different Supermen.

If you’ll allow me just a little more nerdiness, DC sent comic shops some previews of this issue to create excitement, and these pages included scans of the end section with the new Supermen. The only catch was, on these previews the figures were totally whited out, so you couldn’t see what he looked like. So having read those short previews, I thought they were all referring to ONE new Superman, who I assumed had been changed by his experience with Doomsday. It wasn’t until I got the issue home that I realized they were launching four different storylines.

The art on these is pretty interesting. This is really the point where Jon Bogdanove shifts into a really loose, less constrained style, which honestly works quite well for the larger than life character of John Henry Irons. And that first look at him—you can definitely see why they thought that Shaquille O’Neal would work for this character.

Next is a spooky look at the Last Son of Krypton, who I 100% believed was the real Superman, mainly because of his appearance. The panel of Superman lowering to finish off the thug is a great, eerie look, and I dig the Gandalf the White style dialogue here, too.

I love everything about the “Metropolis Kid” section, because it’s all built-in, and even gives us hints of this character’s “tactile telekinesis” with the grating not being damaged from his blow. Maybe it’s just nostalgia, but man, it’s a great costume too.

Lastly, the Man of Tomorrow segment, which is such great, great storytelling, as, until the very last second, you don’t realize anything is amiss, in spite of the facial expressions of the tourists. [Max: This guy freaked me out even before I saw his full face, and I just realized why: the panel of him turning to face the family reminds me the end of this traumatizing BTAS episode.]

STRAY OBSERVATIONS:

It’s interesting to me that this issue establishes that Jonathan Kent fought in the Korean conflict, and not, as was established in the World of Smallville mini-series, World War II. It’s amazing that enough time had passed by this point, that they had to move the timeline up. I suppose if Pa Kent were still in modern stories, he’d have been a Vietnam veteran by now. I’ll admit being surprised watching Smallville that Jonathan Kent had never been in any war—I thought for sure they’d have made him a Gulf War veteran or something.

Even completely in shock and grief and confusion, Lois Lane really rocks those stretchpants.

GODWATCH: This is the big one, where, as hinted to in past issues, the belief system that the Kents raised Clark within is made explicit. First on page 22, in a moment of despair, Lois admits she wishes her faith were stronger, and Martha relates that their beliefs included Heaven, and that Clark himself, to her knowledge, subscribed to those beliefs. Finally, when Pa stabilizes, Ma Kent thanks the Lord, on page 42. [Max: I also find Pa’s theory that Clark only ended up in this limbo because he’d been raised as a mortal pretty interesting.]

“Sure—have some of my hootch, why don’tcha?” A very funny exchange. [Max: I forgot to mention High Pocket’s essential contribution to this issue, when he fishes Jose out of the river, gives him booze, and tries to recruit him for some larceny! Shame on me.]

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