#and they both have boyfriends who have like a singular shirt and jeans | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

cj-sparkss · 3 years

Note

hii!! i love your stories. can you make a fluffy/angst about eren and reader. where eren is jealous because jean is always with y/n and he hides it but his anger was obvious and the two got into the small fight because eren wont admit why he is angry and it turns into fluff or smut it depends. THANK YOUUY

eren’s masterlist

“ready to go?” eren stands at the doorway to your bedroom, one arm resting on the top of his head, his biceps flexing through the fitted black t-shirt. his multiple chains rest on top of the thin black fabric, chocolate brown hair tied into a messy bun.

you guys are supposed to meet up at sasha’s apartment with a few of your friends in a little while for a game night, one that happens every other friday.

“almost.” you place the final pieces of your outfit together, finishing off styling your hair. eren’s emerald eyes track you from the door, watching you complete your look. once your done, you grab your bag from the hook on the back of your door, switching off the lights in your room and nodding your head in confirmation at eren. he gives you a slow once over, smiling a boyish smile, eyes basically forming hearts. he enterlaces his fingers with yours, pulling you out the door and into the hallway. “you look so good babe.”

an entire swarm of butterflies erupt in your stomach, and you feel heat rise to your cheeks from his simple yet loving compliment. tucking a piece of hair away from your face, you duck your head, smiling bashfully to yourself. “thank you eren.” he pecks your cheek, his soft lips lingering on your skin as you guys slide out the door and into his car.

he drives out, one hand on the steering wheel, his other arm resting on your seat behind your head. his phone automatically connects to the car, playing chill music in the background. sliding his arm down, he places his veiny hand on the flesh of your thigh, squeezing once, twice, then resting, slightly gripping your skin.

you guys drive in silence for a while, just basking in the warmth of each other’s presence, music playing in the background. soft moonlight pours into the car through the windows, illuminating his tan skin, strands of brown hair falling out of his messy bun, cupping the sides of his face.

after a few minutes, eren breaks the silence, grabbing your hand with his. “you know…” he squeezes, as if to comfort himself. “jean might act all lovey dovey with you again tonight.”

you shoot him a confused look, your brows furrowing in confusion. “what do you mean, act all lovey dovey with me?”

“i mean that he’s going to constantly talk to you like he does every game night. hell, i’m pretty sure he even lets you win some games on purpose just to see you smile at him. c’mon, that's my move.” he lets out a defeated sigh, bringing your hand to his mouth, planting a soft kiss on your knuckles.

“i just wanted to, you know, warn you, in case he makes a move on you, which the shit head will probably do.” a light blush tinted his cheeks and the tips of his ears as he spoke. while his focus was still trained on the road ahead, his azure eyes flickered towards you every few seconds, trying to conclude your reaction.

you laugh, placing your other hand on top of your interlocked ones, soothingly rubbing his own. “it’s okay eren. thank you for warning me about jean, but he's not being “lovey dovey” with me, hes just being kind.” you lift your hand, affectionately cupping his cheek. “besides, you know about his crush on mikasa.”

he leans into your touch, rubbing his cheek against your palm like a child. “i know, baby. i just don’t want him stealing what’s mine.”

you giggle, turning up the music. “i promise you, he won’t.” the corners of eren’s mouth turn up into a crooked grin as he gazes at you from his peripheral vision, admiring the moonlight making your skin glow. “thank you.”

shortly after, you guys arrive at sasha’s house, eren knocking on the door with a musical rhythm. the door flies open, jean’s tall and lean figure greeting you guys at the doorway with a sly smile. “hey guys.”

jean swiftly scans your body up and down, eyes trailing over your outfit. the gesture doesn't go unnoticed by eren, who can already feel himself getting mad just by the sight of the boy.

jean softly grabs your hand, pulling you into a bone crushing hug. “you look nice.” you giggle, hugging him back with the limited air in your lungs. “hey jean.”

eren squints his eyes at the gesture from behind, crossing his arms and slightly pouting, still standing behind the doorway. jean let’s go of you, smiling a not so innocent grin at eren, amber eyes twinkling with mischief. “hey man, are you going to stand there all day?” he motions his head inside. “come in.”

grunting, eren stomps inside, grabbing your hand and pulling you towards the sitting area, not looking back. jean closes the door, twisting the lock and pulling the extra security chain over.

already in the living room are sasha and connie chatting away on the carpet, sasha with a bag of chips in hand while stuffing some into her mouth with the other, armin sitting on the couch, nose stuffed in his book.

eren leads you to the couch, pulling you down to sit next to armin. the boy feels the couch sink, now alert of your presence. his head looks up from the book, the golden blonde gracing you with a sweet and welcoming smile. “oh, hey.” the smile is contagious, and you give him a fist bump, looking into his sapphire eyes. “hi armin.”

“hey. look who’s here!” sasha notices you and eren on the couch, exclaiming your name and rushing over to you. she pulls you into a bone crushing hug much like jean’s, wrapping her arms around your head and stuffing your face into her stomach. “h- hi sa-sasha.” you tap her side a few times, the air in your lungs disappearing from her tight embrace. “i. can’t. breathe…”

eren chuckles besides you, connie sensing your danger from behind. he rushes to your aid, pulling sasha off of you by her shoulders, giving you a chance to regain your breath. “sasha, no. don’t suffocate the guests.”

“oh no, i’m so sorry!” she scrambles to get her bag of chips, sticking her arm out and holding it in front of your face, nudging it for you to grab. “here, i’ll give you the rest of my chips to compensate.”

you nod your head, grabbing the bag and looking into it, only to see that there’s just a singular chip left, crumbs at the bottom of the pack. “uh- sasha there’s nothing left-“ you look up at her, seeing the same happy and lovable expression on your friends face as always. “never mind.” you beam a smile at her, happy to see her again tonight. “thank you.”

“of course!” she grabs your head, placing a chaste kiss on your forehead.

jean strides into the middle of everyone, clasping his large hands together with a clap. “all right! let the games begin.”

“what are we playing today?” you ask, tilting your head in wonder.

“we're playing pictionary first. everyone know how to play?” sasha glances around, scanning over everyone’s faces. you all nod, everyone already knowing how to play.

“okay! great.” she walks into the corner, opening a small closet, pulling out a wooden stand, and then a large whiteboard accompanied by red and black dry erase markers, placing them in the front, standing tall. “now we have to pick partners. choose wisely, because some of you really suck ass at drawing.” although voicing this to everyone, her eyes are staring specifically at eren, an accusing look on her face.

he picks up on the insult, scoffing and turning his face, crossing his arms in disbelief. “i don’t know what you’re talking about”, he mumbles under his breath, loud enough for you to hear.

you laugh, placing a hand on his bicep. “it’s okay eren, i personally think you are amazing at drawing. you peck his cheek, giving him a loving smile. a very light blush spread on his cheeks as he turned to face you, placing a soft kiss on your lips, not caring about public displays of affection around both of your closest friends. he pulls away, rubbing the back of his neck with his hand, starting a sentence. “do you maybe want to partner toget-”

jean calls your name from the side, long legs swiftly approaching you. he stops in front of you, amber eyes looking into yours. “do you want to be partners? we’re both the best after all”, he states, a cocky grin on his face.

although flattered, you give an apologetic smile, turning to face eren again, who is shooting daggers at jean with his eyes. if looks could kill, jean would definitely be gone right now.

“i’m sorry jean, but i wanted to be partners with eren.”

“it’s fine.” eren’s deep voice speaks, words confusing you. “what?”

he turns away, avoiding eye contact and gazing at nowhere in particular. “i said it’s fine. if you wanna be partners with jean, be partners with jean. i’ll just be with armin”, he huffs out, a blank expression on his face.

“no but eren, i want to be partners with you-”

“no, go with him.” he doesn't let you retort, mind already firmly set.

“are you sure?”

“yes.”

no. he’s not sure, but he doesn’t want to seem like the possessive type of boyfriend, the one that won’t let you hang out or do things with other boys. this is him trying to be a good boyfriend for you, even if it angers him to see you with another guy.

“great!” jean grabs your wrist, pulling you away to another chair, eren’s emerald eyes tracking your movement.

sasha places a tiny blue bin filled with little papers in the middle of the table. “okay, this bin is filled with the different topics that you guys have to draw, that your other partner will have to guess. they’re relatively easy, it really just depends on your skills with details and trying different things.” she paces around, checking over everything to make sure the game is set. “basically, there will be three rounds since there’s three teams. in the end, whoever first team guesses the most and wins the most points, wins.” sasha tugs on connie‘s arm, pulling him into a standing position. “connie and i will go first. connie, pick a paper from the bin, and you will draw first, i’ll try to guess.”

connie wines, drooping his shoulders and standing stiff in his spot. “whyy do we have to draw firsttt?” sasha pays no mind, tauntingly smiling at him. “because people with no hair don’t get to choose.” she turns him around, shoving him forwards by his shoulder. “now go. we each get fifteen seconds. i’ll put the timer on my phone.”

connie rolls his eyes but gives in, picking a paper from the bin. he stands for a moment, contemplating over what he got, and then nods his head. he walks in front of the board, lifting up a black erase marker. sasha settles into the chair, sitting up and preparing herself. “ready?” connie nods, a hesitant smile on his face. “kay, go!” on cue, he starts drawing a series of lines on the board, arm flexing as it moves, rushing to beat the time.

“is it fries?” sasha guesses out, excitedly pointing at the board. connie shakes his head no, continuing to draw a circular blob.

“burger!” he shakes his head.

“potatoes!”

“ooh, ooh! potatoes and fries!”

connie grunts, running a hand over his face in frustration.

jean taps your shoulder, grabbing your attention as he leans into your ear. “it’s a giraffe.” you mouth an “o”, the picture on the board suddenly coming together and making sense.

“i got it! meat!”

ding ding ding!

the timer on sasha‘s phone rings out, telling everyone that her time is over. connie aggressively caps the marker, slamming it down to the table and pacing towards sasha. he stretches his hands out in frustration, eyes bulging out of his head. “IT WAS A FREAKIN’ GIRAFFE!” everyone erupts into laughter, giggling at the iconic duo. sasha shrinks in her seat, realization dawning on her face. “ohhhh, that makes sense.” connie glares at her, making her shrink even more. “sorry?” her voice comes out as a squeak, as she subtly reaches her hand over to grab another bag of chips. connie sighs, plopping down next to her. “i need a new partner.” he mutters under his breath, although, a small smile rests on his face.

“okay!” jean springs up, looking down at you and stretching a large hand out for you. “our turn now.” you nod your head, hesitantly placing your hand in his. your eyes flicker over to eren, who’s turquoise eyes are dead set on the physical contact between you and jean, fumes practically blowing out of his ears. you retract your hand, sensing erens jealousy from across the room, resulting in jean giving you a confused look. maybe this wasn’t a great idea.

“i’ll draw first”, you say, walking towards the blue bin. you pick out a paper, determining in your mind what you are going to draw for the term you were given.

as the night went on, more rounds were completed, different teams gaining points. you and jean were a natural, just like he had said. you guys collected the most points, never once failing to guess the other’s picture. you guys enjoyed the night, constantly laughing with each other over something stupid that was happening.

sasha and connie progressively got better, improving on their communication throughout the game. armin and eren were amazing, armin always able to guess eren’s picture, despite his not so great art skills.

it wasn't just that he wasn't great at drawing, but he was distracted. by you. eren’s eyes never once left you and jean, constantly watching the two of you interact, virescent eyes clouded with jealousy and anger. no one paid him mind, thinking that the boy was just being his usual, angry self.

but you knew eren better than anyone. he was upset. it was obvious to you. but if you tried to talk to him or ask him what was wrong, he would reply only in short, one worded answers. “are you okay?” “yes.”

he barely interacted with anyone throughout, not even paying armin any mind when the blonde tried to communicate with him.

the last straw was when you and jean had won the final round.

you guys were yelling in ecstasy, boasting about your success to the others. you had reached out both your hands to give jean a high five in congratulations, and as he connected his large hands with yours, he pulled you into an embrace, wrapping his arms around you, trapping you in a friendly hug close to his body.

of course, eren witnessed the interaction, and if he wasn't angry before, oh he definitely was now.

he stood up, stomping towards the both of you, aggressively pushing jean away from you. jean stumbled back, trying to catch himself from falling, as you stood there, eyes wide.

“ay, what the fuck, man?” jean steps towards eren, squaring up to him, amber eyes challenging him to lay another hand.

“don’t fucking touch her.” eren doesn't stutter, and he grabs your wrist, pulling you away to the door, not even looking back at jean. you hurriedly grab your purse from the couch, scanning around the room to make sure nothing was left. armin and the others just watch the exchange, not even bothering to interfere, sasha happily munching on her snack, watching everything like a movie.

armin leans over, whispering in sasha’s ear. “um, should we say something?”

“nope!” connie reaches a hand into sasha’s bag of chips, stealing a few in his fingers resulting in her slapping the hand away, dragging the chips away.

eren unlocks the door with his hand, your wrist still held tightly by the other. “eren? what are you doing?” successfully unlocking the door after fumbling, he pulls it open, dragging you outside. “were leaving.”

your brows furrowed in confusion as he quickly pulls you down the hall, towards the elevator. you don’t say anything as he takes you to where his car was parked, still racking your brain on why he was acting like this, making you guys leave abruptly.

approaching his car outside, he finally lets go of your hand, pulling out his car keys and unlocking the door. he opens the passenger side door for you, still not saying anything as he walks over to the driver’s side, getting in and slamming the door.

you get in the car, softly shutting the door, and you just look straightforward, still not conversing. and this is how it is the entire car ride, your eyes just trained forward, not even bothering to peak a glance at eren, while he silently drove, emerald eyes flickering to the side to look at you once in a while. and this time, his hand is not on your thigh or intertwined with your own hand, it’s just sitting on his lap.

you both arrive back at your shared apartment. you throw your stuff on the couch, heading straight to the bathroom, not even bothering to acknowledge eren. he went straight to the bedroom, slamming the door with a loud thud.

you sigh, placing your palms on the bathroom counter, looking at your reflection. “what the fuck is up with him?” you mutter silently to yourself, running a hand down your face.

and then it clicks. jean. you were basically with him the entire night. that makes sense. the conversation in the car before arriving at sasha’s, the daggers shooting out of eren’s eyes straight at jean whenever he neared you. the closed off attitude the whole game night.

he’s jealous.

and his dumbass won’t tell you. considering how stubborn he is, you know that you will have to talk to him first before he even admits it. so you wash your hands, and gather up the rest of your energy to go and face your boyfriend.

approaching the bedroom door, you silently turn the doorknob, opening the door with a tiny creek. “eren?” you see him sitting down on the bed, scrolling through his phone. as you walk in and shut the door, he notices your presence and looks up, a blank expression on his face, a look in his eyes that you can’t describe. you stand in front of the wall awkwardly, shuffling your feet. “eren, please talk to me.”

he finally meets your eyes, staring at you for a long moment before he stands up, rising to his full height. he trudges towards you with his long legs, stopping at least a foot away from you.

“talk about what?”

“about what just happened. why are you so upset?”

“i’m not upset.” he feins an innocent look, crossing his arms against his chest. but you don’t believe the facade for a second. you squint your eyes, tilting your head at him. “yeah, right.” you purse your lips, crossing your own arms as well. “you’re jealous.”

that ignites a reaction out of him. hes close enough to you that his scent reaches your nose, vanilla taking over your senses. eren stares at you, studying your face. “i’m not fucking jealous.”

you raise your eyebrows in disbelief. “not jealous my ass. you are jealous. because of jean.”

eren steps closer to you, backing you into the wall, slamming his palm on the place next to your head, a burning look taking place in his eyes. “why are you so damn insistent with that? i said, i’m. not. jealous.”

you flinch, letting your arms drop to your sides, cowering under his gaze. “eren…” your voice cracks, your gaze dropping to your feet.

once he sees the fear and worry in your eyes, the once burning fire look in his emerald orbs fade into a soft and tender one.

“i- i’m sorry. you’re right. i am jealous.” he bows his head, brown hair out of the bun falling to the sides of his face. he sighs, moving the hand that was next to your head, to cup the side of your face. he places his forehead against yours, lovingly looking into your eyes. you bite your lip, waiting in anticipation of what he’s going to say.

“it’s just- i just don’t want to lose you to jean, or for that matter, lose you to anyone. i- your the best thing that has ever happened to me, and i can’t lose you.”

you gaze into his eyes, and the only thing you see now is pure love and worry. you caress his own cheek, making him bring his eyes back to yours. “don’t worry eren. you won't be losing me anytime soon. or ever in fact.”

he smiles a boyish grin, immediately put at ease and reassured by your kind words. he leans in, stopping right in front of your face, noses almost touching, lips only inches away. he looks into your eyes, searching for something in yours. “can i show you how much i don’t want to lose you?” his minty breath fans over your lips. his voice is deeper now, huskier, a heavier tone hiding underneath. your breath hitches in your throat, and you take a big gulp as his eyes flicker to your lips. you nod your head, and without wasting a moment, eren’s warm lips latch onto yours.

one of his hands moved from its former position, sneaking around your waist to pull you closer to him, while his other large hand traces circles into your cheek. you fist the front of his shirt, and eren presses his body against yours, swiping his tongue against your bottom lip asking for access. you comply, letting the wet limb in, it swirling around your own tongue, exploring every inch and crevice of your mouth. strong arms slide underneath your thighs, and he lifts you off the ground, pinning your back against the wall.

you instinctively wrap your legs around his body, placing your hands around his neck. you could feel his toned abs against your stomach, as well as his heartbeat, beating fast against yours. eren pulls away from the kiss, catching his breath before moving down, trailing wet and hot kisses down your face and to your jaw line. you move your hands up and tangle them in his hair, tugging just how he likes you to, conducting a low groan out of him.

eren moves down to your neck, finding your sweet spot when you let out a soft moan, and he bites and sucks, marking his territory and leaving discolored spots on your skin that you would have to take care of tomorrow. he smashes his lips against yours with more lustfulness, large hands groping and squeezing your thighs. he swings around, walking you towards the bed, placing your back against this soft mattress.

eren climbs on top of you, one knee in between your thighs, leaving your legs open, his chains dangling over your face. his hands trail up your body, feeling every inch of your skin. they trail back down, fingers sliding into your waistband of your pants, fingers caressing your clothed slit, gently pinching your sensitive essence through the material. you squirm under his touch, shivers traveling up and down your spine. “eren…”

“does that feel good, baby?” he questioned, slowly pulling your panties down your legs. you nod your head, raising your hips to help him pull off your underwear. “that’s a good girl”, he muttered, as his finger ran up and down your wet slit, gathering up your slick.

he pushed one long finger inside, as you arched your back up and into his chest, your walls clenching around his digit. “i am going to show you how much i love you.”

eren added another finger, hitting your spongy sweet spot, stretching your walls, your juices trailing down his hand. “you’re making such a mess.” he groaned with his husky voice, desire loud and clear.

“eren, m- more” you moaned out in a breathy voice. he complied, sliding another finger knuckles deep in between your drenched walls, curling and trusting them in and out. the same familiar feeling started building up in your lower abdomen area, tightening with each slow thrust. your hand grabbed his hair, pulling and tugging as your walls were clenching.

his other hand went for your clit, rubbing and caressing, as the feeling in your abdomen increased. with a few more thrusts from his long fingers, you came undone, clear liquid leaking down his fingers as he pulled out.

your legs were slightly shaking, mind overwhelmed with pressure. “such a good girl. making a mess everywhere.” he stuck his fingers in his mouth, licking and sucking on his fingers, not leaving any of your juice left to waste. “can i take off your shirt?”

you nod your head, brain still fuzzy as you came down from your high. eren positions his hands at the bottom of your shirt as you sit up a bit, lifting it up and over your head, throwing it on the floor. his fingers travel to behind your back, unclasping your bra easily without fumble.

he situates his hands on your waist, setting his pink lips onto yours. he traced shapes with his fingers along your stomach, trailing up to your breasts, rolling your hard nipples in between his fingers, pinching and twisting as his mouth swallowed your whimpers and cries.

he pulled away with this string of saliva connecting the both of your lips, his virescent eyes locked onto yours, lust cloudy them. “you know, you’re the most beautiful person i’ve ever seen.” he stupidly smiled, taking off his shirt and throwing it onto the floor near yours, revealing his sculpted chest. he unbuttoned and unzipped his pants, pulling them and his boxers off his own legs in one swift motion. his cock sprung out, slapping against his stomach, pre cum oozing out of the pink tip.

his muscles flexed and contracted with each movement as he moved between your legs, spreading your thighs open and wide. he placed them over his shoulders, grabbing your ass and lifting your hips off the mattress, aligning his length with the entrance to your core. “i love you baby. are you ready?” you nod your head, pushing your hips forward in an attempt to feel more of him.

eren’s grip tightened on you, sure to leave light bruises the next day. he started rolling your hips so that his cock would move along your slit, pressing at your entrance and on your clit. you whined, desperately needy for him inside you.

he chuckled, his wet tip almost inside you. “i got you.” he slowly pushed his length inside your core, inching his way in as your toes curled due to the satisfying pleasure. you close your eyes, the delightful feeling taking over you.

“no, look at me, baby.” eren’s almost growling, his voice firm and commanding. you open your eyes, uncontrollable moans spilling from your mouth. “good girl.” he grunted, pushing himself deep inside your cunt, his tip brushing your cervix, your walls clenching around his cock.

he started thrusting inside you, his veiny cock throbbing inside you, his tip pressing onto your sensitive spot, eliciting moans from you. “shit, you’re taking me so fucking well.” he thrusted in and out of you, your climax quickly approaching. “eren, i- i am going to cum.” you croaked out, barely managing to form any more words.

eren quickens the pace, his hips crashing onto yours even faster than before. your whole body quivers, and your mind went blank, eyes rolling to the back of your head. eren continues to fuck you hard, the lewd expressions on your face only encouraging him on. he pressed you thighs further into your chest, you’re legs still shaking from the intensity. “baby, we’re just getting started.”

he places his wet tongue on your clit, as two large fingers sink into your core, curling inside your now sensitive cunt. your hands buried in his hair, tugging the chocolate strands from the overstimulation. “eren.. shit. t- too much” you cried out, hands burying even deeper.

he kept sucking and licking with his mouth, his fingers increasing speed as they thrusted into you. your hips started grinding, trying meeting the pace of his thrusts. you reached your climax once again, throat dry from all your moans. you sunk into the soft mattress below you, in a state of pure bliss. “that’s right sweetheart.” eren climbed on top of you again, his still hard and throbbing cock entering your drenched cunt in one simple motion.

his mouth connected to your breast, tongue swirling around your nipple while his other hand masssged into the other. “scream my name.” your walls continue to clench around his legs, pressure building once again in your lower abdomen.

eren was panting, his thrusts becoming more sloppy and erratic. “i thought i said,” he looks at you, eyes half lidded, sweat dripping down his body. “i want to hear you scream. my. name.” he thrusts into you hard, making you cry out. “eren!” and with that you climax for another time, your walls clenching and milking his cock, encouraging his own high.

his cock twitched inside you, throbbing as his movement came to a halt. his cum poured inside you, painting your walls white with his liquid. eren collapsed next to you on the bed, irregularly breathing, sweat falling down his body.

he connected his lips with yours once again, caressing the side of your cheek lovingly. he pulls away after a few moments, gazing into your eyes. “i hope that was enough to show you how much i love you.”

you smile like an idiot, nodding your head and humming. “you certainly did. i love you, eren.”

“good”, he planted a kiss on your cheek, stroking your hair. “let’s go take a shower and clean up, okay?” he gently picked you up, carrying you bridal style to the bathroom. “you did so well tonight.” he plants a soft kiss on your forehead, his warm lips lingering for a moment. “again, i’m sorry about everything earlier.”

you give him a reassuring smile, smoothing out his messy hair. “it’s okay eren. i forgive you. i love you.”

“i love you.”

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therealvalkyrie · 3 years

Text

Painter’s Hands and Guatemalan Coffee: Part 4

the ackerman influence

Pairing/setting: Levi Ackerman x Female!Reader, modern!college!AU

Summary: When you catch your idiot boyfriend cheating, your grumpy roommate is there to pick up the pieces and watch your back as you toe a carefully drawn line in the metaphorical sand.

Word Count: 3.5k

Warnings: consumption of alcohol and weed products, intoxication, swearing, pretty dang fluffy

AN: SURPRISE BITCHES it’s out tonight!! An infinite thank you belongs to my beloved @ghostlightprincess for her keen eye for editing and swoon-worthy compliments and encouragements. Seriously, this chapter is dedicated entirely to her. I hope y’all enjoy!! I hope y’all appreciate the love I gave Sasha this chapter because........reasons. Pleease feel free to come scream/squeal/chat in my DMs or askbox! In love with you all<3 ~valkyrie

(read part 3 here)

“Here, thisun ‘sblue!” Hange slurs as she passes you yet another shot glass with Greek letters etched on the side.

“Mmm, I like blue,” you giggle, then clink your shot with hers before you both tip your heads back to pour the liquor down your throats. It tastes inexplicably like turquoise, and you laugh loudly over the thumping dance music in approval.

The poor freshman charged with staffing the drinks table eyes the pair of you skeptically. “Maybe you two should slow down, you seem like you’ve had enough—”

You round on him, offense written across your face. He’s definitely right, but you aren’t exactly gonna let some pimply, snot-nosed teen tell you how to drink. “Woah, Nelly, this ain’t cocktail hour, this is fuckin’ Greek row an’ I won’t have your judgment,” you waggle a finger in his general direction for emphasis, “harsh my vibe.”

“You tell ‘em, girlfriend,” Hange approves vaguely, hanging off your shoulder.

The freshman holds his hands up in defeat, amused. “No judgment.”

You nod once.

“C’mon, Han, let’s see if we can find the snacks.”

“Pleeeeeeease…”

You turn away from the drinks table to do just that, angling towards where you remember the kitchen to be — honestly, this frat is huge — and set off through the crowd. Hange trails after you, fingers tangled with yours like they have been all night, yammering on about something you can’t be bothered to follow.

“‘Scuse us, comin’ through, on a mission!” You push past jostling bodies until you reach the far wall and lean against it for the last leg of your epic journey to the fluorescent lights of the kitchen.

Someone calls your name and you look up through squinted eyes to see Sasha leaned up against the counter by the fridge, bowl of chips in her arms and dab pen tucked behind her ear. She’s dressed casually, sweatpants and DIY cropped t-shirt contrasting your jeans and flashy top.

“Sasha! My love! My dearest, sweetest darling!” You stretch your arms wide towards her, Hange jolting forward where you’re connected. “We come in search of snacks.”

Sasha laughs and lazily deposits her bowl on the counter, stepping forward to stabilize you both with a hand on your shoulder. “You’ve come to the right place, my friends.”

She steers you both to sit at the island, wedging you between the only other two people in the kitchen. You vaguely recognize them as soccer players on the university team: a shaggy-haired brunette and a tall blonde. Sasha passes you her dab pen before ambling over to the pantry. You take a hit, then pass it to Hange, who’s looking much better now that she’s sitting down.

“Sash, these your friends?” the blonde asks, peering down at you through red-rimmed hazel eyes. You pluck the pen out of Hange’s limp grasp and offer it to him in greeting, along with a drunk smile. He takes it and grins back.

“Yep,” Sasha confirms with half her body still stuck into the pantry. “It’s the mad scientist one and the architect.”

“Almost architect,” you correct. “Not official until I have my degree! Although, I will agree, Han’s a mad scientist.” You poke her in the side and she swats you away with an eye roll.

“Oh,” the brunette soccer player pipes up from Hange’s other side, now looking at you curiously as well. He’s also high, startling green eyes hooded and posture relaxed. “So you’re Braun’s ex.”

You hide your shudder of distaste by turning back to take a drag off the pen. “Please don’t tell me that’s all I’m known for,” you sigh out with a cloud of smoke.

“Eren, don’t be an ass.” Sasha finally returns with a box of chocolate pretzels and a bag of hot Cheetos. “Pick your poison, hot stuff,” she offers each in turn. You ponder for a second, then reach for the Cheetos. “That’s Eren—” she points to the brunette, who raises a lazy hand “—and that’s Jean—” the blonde reaches for the pretzels. Sasha makes an offended noise and cradles them to her chest.

You introduce both yourself and Hange while Sasha plays defense against Jean’s long reach.

“Sorry,” Eren apologizes to you, leaning over Hange to grab some Cheetos. “I heard what he did to you. Really shitty.” His tone is casual, but the way he’s practically pinning you in place with his eyes makes you twitch.

“Puh-lease,” Hange pulls out the word, long and sarcastic. “‘Twas more than shitty, what that douche did. I’d’ve wrung him out to dry, but she didn’t—”

You cut her off with a sharp poke to her side. “Drop it, Han, I don’t wanna think about it.”

“But— ooh!” She’s sufficiently distracted when you shove your food in front of her face.

“Sorry,” Eren apologizes again.

“S’okay,” you sigh and take another drag, then hold the pen out to him in a peace offering. He smiles slowly and takes it.

“You guys staying over? There’s plenty of room in the basement, and friends of Sasha’s are always welcome.” It’s Jean who offers, returning to his seat beside you with a singular pretzel for his trouble.

“Hmm, might be nice,” Hange muses, but you’re already shaking your head.

“Thank you, but my roommate’d probably have a conniption if I wasn’t home in the morning.”

Hange actually snorts at this, then starts coughing violently because of the hot Cheeto dust suddenly up her nose. You pat her back in mild concern.

“What, they got a stick up their ass or something?” Eren asks.

“Or something. Levi’s just protective.”

“Levi?” Eren’s eyes are suddenly wide, almost fearful. “Levi Ackerman?”

“Yeah.” Your tone edges on defensive. “Why?”

He takes a hit and shrugs before answering. “He’s just my foster sister’s cousin. Interesting family.”

“Oh, you mean Mikasa?” You didn’t know exactly how they were related, but she’d helped Levi move in and it had struck you how eerily similar they were in disposition.

“Yeah, Mikasa. She’s around here somewhere…” As though by magic, he turns to look over his shoulder just as Mikasa and another blonde boy you don’t recognize mosey in from the hallway. She’s leaning down to catch his soft words and he’s talking with his hands, stalling as his eyes light on the little group in the kitchen.

“Oh, hey guys,” he greets.

“Armiiiin,” Eren greets with a genuine smile. “Come meet some new friends.”

The pair rounds the kitchen island, Armin allowing Eren to pull him in by the arm and Mikasa going to stand shoulder-to-shoulder with Sasha.

“I know you,” Hange pipes up, tilting her head to observe Armin. “You’re in the sophomore biochem class I TA for. Arlert, right?”

Armin ducks his head in a nod. “Yep. Professor LaBelle is a wonder, I had a great time this semester.”

“She is, isn’t she?” Hange’s grin is almost slipping to the dangerous side of intrigued. “I graded your final paper, by the way, and just between us, you set the grade curve.”

He blushes red but his eyes shine with something akin to satisfaction. “Really? That’s a relief, it was a bear to write.”

Eren leans back behind Hange to gesture to you, looking across the kitchen at his foster sister. “Mikasa, this is—”

“—Levi’s roommate,” they say at the same time.

“I know.” Her dark eyes regard you interestedly. “Hi, again,” she greets, saying your name even though she’s maybe heard it once in her life.

“Hi!” You give a small wave.

“What, uh, what,” Jean clears his throat and you look up at him to catch a blush staining across his cheeks and nose. He’s looking at Mikasa. “What’re you guys up to in the basement?”

“We were just going to start a movie, Connie’s setting up the projector,” Mikasa says, eyes flicking from you to Eren. “Wanted to see if you guys wanted to join.”

Jean stands suddenly, his stool rocking from the force of it. “Y-yeah, we’ll join!” Sasha hides a snicker behind her hand.

Eren stands, too, between Armin and Hange, who are still chatting. He looks down at you and says your name like a question. “You coming?”

You find yourself shaking your head again. “I’m so crossed, I think if I even look at a couch I’ll fall asleep. And I, uh,” you yawn, slipping your phone out of a back pocket to check the time. 12:11 AM. “I should be getting home.”

It’s earlier than when you would normally call it quits, but suddenly all you can think about is going home and falling into Levi’s clean, soft-smelling sheets. Plus, it’s the Saturday preceding finals week and tonight was only meant to blow off steam between intense days of studying.

“You stayin’?” You bump Hange with your shoulder, and she looks around at you with wide eyes as though she forgot you were there.

“Hmm?”

“You stayin’ for the movie?”

“We’re watching It: Chapter Two,” Armin supplies, eyes crinkled in excitement.

Hange’s eyes grow impossibly wider behind her glasses and she grabs your elbow a little too hard. “You wouldn’t mind, right? I’ve been meaning to watch it.”

You smile and shake your head. “Wouldn’t mind at all. You stay, I’ll call an Uber.”

The whole group starts migrating in the lazy way drunk and high people do: Mikasa helps Sasha with the snacks; Eren and Jean grab canned drinks from the fridge; Armin and Hange gravitate towards the door, talking fast with words you’ve never heard before. You stay sitting at the island, tapping away at your phone to order a car.

When you stand to find the front door, your high hits you from behind like a fuckin’ baseball bat and you sway dangerously. You whistle through your teeth, low and soft, planting a hand on the counter. Sasha looks over at you in concern, her arms full.

“You okay, babe?”

“Yeah, I just… what is in that dab pen?”

She laughs, head tilting back. “Good shit, right? Got that one new last week.”

“For real…” you trail off, getting your bearings.

“Here,” Mikasa starts, piling even more food into Sasha’s arms, “I’ll walk you out. Levi would skin me if he knew I didn’t make sure your driver’s not an ax murderer.”

Normally, you’d protest, but the room really is starting to spin.

“Okay,” you sigh and allow her to hook your arm through hers. She’s surprisingly solid, and you find yourself leaning heavily into her. “How’re you still sober?”

“I don’t drink or smoke,” she answers, gently pushing past Armin standing in the doorway. “Doesn’t affect me, anyway, so it’d just be a waste of money.”

“Huh,” you grunt, then twist to wave to the group. “Night, everyone.”

A replying chorus of “goodnight” chases you and Mikasa through the dark foyer littered with drunken party-goers.

“Oh, wait,” she pauses with a hand on the doorknob. “Did you bring a jacket?”

“Oh,” you wrinkle your nose and think back to getting ready in the afternoon. It had been unseasonably warm and your coat didn’t match your outfit. “No, I didn’t bring one.”

Mikasa gives you an odd look and deposits you by the door. “I’ll be right back.”

Your body feels light as you lean back, tucking your hands into your armpits so they don’t float away. Your eye catches on movement in the dark shadows by the staircase and you squint, trying to see who’s there. It takes a second, but you eventually make out a pair of people, well… making out. They’re completely absorbed in each other, bodies impossibly close and you giggle quietly to yourself before your stomach rolls. No, don’t think about… too late.

You shut your eyes tight and turn away from the couple to lean sideways against the wall. The image is too similar, too gut-punchingly familiar.

“Didn’t mean what? Didn’t mean to stick your tongue down my best friend’s throat? Didn’t mean to practically fuck your best friend’s girlfriend in public?”

The biting words and stuttered apologies are still rolling around in your head when Mikasa comes back, thick puffer coat in hand. She hands it to you and you mutter a subdued “thanks,” twitching to dislodge the dull pain that’s settled in your ribs.

“It’s Eren’s, but he won’t mind. He doesn’t wear this one a lot, and you can just give it back next time we see you.”

“Right,” you nod, head moving a little too easily as you slip your arms in and fumble with the zipper. The faux fur around the hood tickles your face as Mikasa flips it up over your head. She’s clearly experienced in the art of taking care of intoxicated people.

Outside, you’re grateful you bundled up because the temperature has dropped significantly since the afternoon. Chilly December wind bites at your face and you bury your hands in coat pockets to save them from the same fate. Your fingers brush against something cold and metallic, and before you know it you’re pulling out a fistful of crumby objects: a super plus tampon, the packaging split down the side; two “for her pleasure” condoms; and, inexplicably, a Hot Wheels matchbox car. An ugly snort escapes your nose and Mikasa looks over at you in alarm. You raise up your fist and she chuckles through her nose as well. Squinting in the dim light of a flickering streetlamp, you find the expiration date on the condoms to be several months ago, so you lean over to a convenient trash can and toss both them and the tampon. The matchbox car returns to the pocket. Who knows, maybe Eren’ll miss it if it’s gone.

Mikasa doesn’t look affected by the cold, only winding her red scarf more securely around her neck as you both quietly wait on the sidewalk for your Uber. A quick glance at the app tells you that it’s three minutes away.

“Are you and Levi close?” You find yourself asking into the night sounds of Greek Row on a Saturday night.

You almost think she doesn’t hear you over the sound of a group spilling out of a neighboring sorority, but then she answers.

“Not particularly. We didn’t grow up together and only connected because of Uncle Kenny a couple years ago.” Her tone is light and casual as she talks about her family, as though you should know who Uncle Kenny is. Should I know who Uncle Kenny is?

“Oh,” is all you can think to say.

“We may not be close,” she starts again, eyeing you closely, “but I think we’re very similar. And I can tell he cares a lot about you.”

“Oh. Right.” Your palms are suddenly sweaty in your pockets.

“He may not show it,” her tone is careful, “But he does.”

You smile faintly and kick your boot against the curb. “He does show it, in his own way. He’s been really good to me.” Somehow, it’s easy to talk about this to Mikasa, even when you get all stuttery and weird having an identical conversation with Hange. Maybe it’s the drugs and alcohol, or maybe it’s because there’s not a hint of judgment in Mikasa’s eyes. Either way, it feels good to speak your feelings into the world.

“Good.” She nods and follows your gaze to where you’re still scuffing the curb. “Some unsolicited advice for you: if you ever want anything besides mutual pining to come out of it, you need to be really obvious. Or make the first move outright.”

This makes you stutter and wring your hands, she just puts it so bluntly. “R-right, the first move…. Oh, I think that’s my car.”

“What’s the license plate number we’re looking for?”

You read it out from the app while Mikasa steps to the back of the blue sedan that just pulled up. She nods, confirming it’s the same, then circles to the driver’s side window, which is cracked open.

“Hi,” you greet the driver, a blonde woman in her late twenties, and confirm her name matches the one in the app before sliding into the back seat. Mikasa leans down to murmur something to her and she nods, glancing back at you in the rearview mirror.

“G’night, Mikasa,” you call out the window. “Thanks for everything. And tell Eren thanks for the jacket.”

She waves as the car pulls away. You settle into the quiet hum of the car and let your mind wander.

Mutual pining. Make the first move outright….

—

“Mikasa texted me,” Levi says by way of greeting as you stumble out of the car and thank your driver. He’s leaning on a lamp post outside your apartment building when your Uber pulls up, jacket and boots pulled on over flannel pajamas.

“Levi, stand ominously on the sidewalk often?” you ask, dragging out his name long and sing-song.

“Only for you, kid.” He loops an arm around your waist and steers you towards the entryway

“Not a kid,” you grumble, masking the stutter of your heart at his usual pet name for you. Somewhere in the last couple of weeks, it’s gained a weightier significance, at least to you. It’s endearing and a little distancing and charged all at once and it makes your head spin as you climb the stairs up to your floor.

At your door, Levi unlocks it while you drift slowly in a circle next to him, trying to expend the sudden nervous energy you’ve gained in his presence.

The first move, first move, first move… Mutual pining. Mutual.

“What are you muttering about?”

You hadn’t realized you were thinking out loud.

“Nothing,” you say quickly and pass through the door he’s holding open for you. Your momentum carries you farther than you mean to go, and he catches you by the elbow, reeling you back to the coat rack by the door.

“Whose jacket is that?” He shrugs off his own and eyes the faux fur around your face skeptically.

You fumble with the zipper for a second before he sighs and reaches for it himself, stepping into your space. His face is so close to yours you can feel his breath ghosting over your collarbone as he unzips the jacket.

“Eren’s,” you finally answer. “Look.” You pull the matchbox car out of its pocket and show it to Levi with a wide grin. He stares at it for a second, then the tiniest smile twitches onto his lips.

“He’s a weird kid.” It’s almost fond, with an undertone of exasperation.

“You know him?”

“Yeah, he’s in the art department, too. Graphic design major, marketing minor. I TAed his freshman seminar last year.” Levi slips the coat off your shoulders as he speaks, then hangs it by the loop next to his.

“Ah, that makes sense,” you muse, wandering farther into the apartment. “He looked terrified when I mentioned you. What’d you do to those poor freshmen?”

“Nothing they didn’t deserve.”

“...ominous,” you hiss, your eyes wide as you let him gently push you into your room. The nervous energy hasn’t quite been expended, and you find your hands wringing with it. Suddenly, you’re rambling about your night as he sits you down on your bed among the laundry that’s taken residence there in its disuse. The stupid song they played at the first frat; Sasha’s excellent food; the blue mystery shot.

“It tasted like turquoise, I swear, Levi! It was like magic!” Your eyes are wide, insistent as you lean forward into his space.

“How does something taste like turquoise?” He ducks his head to avoid your face, fingers untying the knotted laces of your boots.

“You’re the artist, you tell me.”

“I don’t eat my paint.”

“Not even once? Not gonna lie, your paint looks very tasty, sometimes…”

“Are you always this annoying when you’re high?” He tugs the second boot off your foot as you let yourself fall back onto your bed.

“Come on, you love me,” you crow to the ceiling. Mutual pining.

Levi mutters something under his breath.

“What?”

“Nothing. Where do you keep your pajamas?” He stands and looks around your room.

“Middle drawer, left side,” you direct, lazily motioning to your dresser with an arm. Your eyes flutter shut as you listen to Levi pick his way across the floor and slide the drawer open.

Normally, you can get yourself in bed after a night out just fine. Normally, you slip into the apartment making as little noise as possible, and fall into bed without Levi even waking up. But it feels nice to have his steady hands on you when it feels like your organs might start floating apart at any second. It’s anchoring and reassuring and you can feel the safety of being near him lulling you into a doze.

Come on, you love me.

You shoot up to sitting, mind whirling and chest tight. “L-Levi?”

“What.”

“D-do…” Do you love me? “Do you think I’m pretty?” It feels petty in your mouth and you immediately regret the words, but it would be worse to try and take them back, so you just bite your lip and look down at the floor.

A hand plops onto the top of your head. Levi’s gray eyes meet yours, soft with something you can’t describe, when he tilts your head up. He’s quiet for a moment, then reaches his other hand to thumb your bottom lip out from between your teeth.

“I think you’re very pretty.”

(read part 5 here)

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moronic-validity · 3 years

Note

"I see you still have my shirt" for simping softness with a male reader and hoyt?👀 maybe have the reader kinda be the more dom acting of the two?👀👀

Please enjoy your FOUR PAGE LONG smut fic my friend.

Notes: This fic contains bdsm, temperature play, and Charlie Hewitt subbing.

Warnings: OKAY SO DON'T DO PUT ICE INSIDE YOURSELF and VASALINE ISN'T GOOD LUBE. Other than that,

18+ Under the cut!

After everything y’all had done the night before, Charlie got dressed in the dark and ducked back into his own room before anyone could realize he hadn’t slept in it.

You grinned at the ceiling and tucked an arm behind your bed, you replayed the events of last night in your head, your other hand starting to lazily stroke yourself.

It was hotter than hell and there wasn’t a lick of AC; there was no one coming through town, so you figured once you finished up around the house, you’d find a swimming hole and stay there til dark.

You stepped out onto the porch and saw Charlie sitting in the shade against the house with his shirt open and hat on his face. You walked up to him and nudged him with the toe of your shoe. He bolted upright quick enough that his hat fell down onto the porch.

“The hell you want?” He said, squinting up at you.

“I’m about to go swimming,” you saw him start to reach for his fallen hat, so you grabbed it and put it on. “You wanna come with?”

“Too damn hot, gimme my hat,” he extended his hand for you to hand him his hat.

“Too damn hot to go swimming? Get up you old coot and come with me,” you laughed at him, taking a step back.

“Yeah yeah, ‘m old and I ain’t goin swimmin, now gimmie my damn hat,” he was finally getting up. Perfect.

“Come n get it Charlie,” you said before running off into the house.

You had to admit, it was too damn hot to be running around like this, but the heavy footfalls behind you told you that, hot as it may be, Charlie was coming for his hat.

You hid under the table and watched Charlie stomp through the house towards your room. He barged in and slammed the door shut behind him. You laughed to yourself and filled a cup with ice and crept after him.

You managed to sneak into the room without him noticing. He had his back to you and was leaning over the bed trying to see if you were crouched on the other side.

Oh this is too fuckin good, you thought to yourself, setting the glass down and grabbing a singular ice cube. It was freezing and had started to melt in your hand. Perfect.

You grabbed the back of his undershirt with one hand and slid the ice cube between the fabric and his skin.

He yelped and stood up, quickly trying to shake the ice cube out of his shirt.

You grabbed the glass of quickly melting ice with one hand and shoved him back onto the bed.

You held him down with one cold, damp hand. Both of you knew he could get up if he wanted, but he didn’t quite want to. He hadn’t seen this side of you before and wanted to see how far you’d take it.

“Charlie, I am just so bored, ya know? And you won’t even go swimming with me,” you clicked your tongue, “Found a different way for us to cool off though,” you leaned forward and showed Charlie the melting cup of ice.

Charlie wished he could figure out what was going through your head.

“Roll on over Charlie, I want you on your back.” Your voice had lost its playful tone and Charlie found himself complying without even thinking.

“Look at you, you know I’m about to fuck you six ways t’ Sunday and you’re being such a good boy,” You moved his button down off his shoulders and threw it off to the side, “need you to sit up a little for me so I can get your shirt out of the way,” You tugged at the lower hem of his under shirt and pulled it up over his head, quickly discarding it on the floor.

“Cat gotcha tongue?” you asked, pulling off your own shirt and unbuckling your belt.

“Cat ain’t got my tongue, sir.” He answered with a smirk, watching the look of shock dance across your features.

You flashed him a dazzling smile as you leaned over him and secured his hands together with your belt.

“Well look at you, usin your manners….Luda Mae’d be so proud,” you slapped him, not hard enough to leave a mark, but hard enough that he felt it, “you’re gonna lose the attitude, or I’m gonna make this a real long night for you.”

You took one of the ice cubes and put it about an inch up from his belly button. He let out a small sound of shock and arched his back.

“Ah, c’mon now, ‘m just trying to cool you off,” you cooed, moving the ice cube up his chest and over to his nipple.

You leaned up and licked the wet trail the ice cube left and you felt Charlie tense under your touch. You pressed your body against his and you could feel exactly how much he was enjoying himself.

You stood back up and let the ice cube melt on his chest.

“Charlie, this next thing I’m bout to do is gonna be real cold. Need you to relax for me,” you kissed and nipped a small bit of skin just above where his belt buckle would’ve been.

Then you slid his pants down his legs, the tent in his boxers more prominent.

You yanked his boxers off without ceremony, knelt on the floor between his legs, then hooked your arms under his knees and pulled him further down the bed so you could get a better angle.

You took you time picking out the next piece of ice, one that didn’t have any sharp edges and seemed almost rounded at one end. Almost like it was made for your next devious plan. You started off slow dragging it along the sensitive skin of his inner thigh making him shiver. You hung onto the way his breath hitched from the cold on his hot skin.

“If you make a sound, I’m gonna gag you. Understand?” You looked up at the older man and he gave a singular nod in response.

The temptation was just too much for you, you traced along his ass cheek with the piece of ice, and then you pressed right against his asshole with the rounded end.

“[y/n]! What in the hell do you think you’re doin!” Charlie nearly shot off the bed.

You tutted and got up from where you were kneeling.

“I did warn you,” you picked up his boxers and walked up to the other side of the bed, “Charlie, baby, I need you to open your mouth,” you cupped his chin with your free hand and held his mouth open, then shoved his own boxers into his mouth as he squirmed.

“Aw, c’mon handsome, I did tell you what’d happen if you didn’t keep quiet,” you leaned down so you were at his ear and whispered “tap me three times if you need me to let up, you know the drill.”

You knew he’d never safeword, but you felt better about the whole thing when y’all did have one in place.

You took your spot back, kneeling between his legs. God, he was so painfully hard and even with his shocked reaction to the cold, he was leaking precum. You wondered to yourself if there was any on the underwear you shoved in his mouth. You almost hoped that there was so that he’d be able to taste his excitement.

You were rock hard and hadn’t even touched yourself yet. If you continued at this rate, you’d cream your pants before you managed to fuck him.

You looked over at the glass. There was only one piece of ice left. It was a bit bigger than the other pieces, but it didn’t have any sharp ends and it wasn’t as big around as your thumb. It’d fit.

This time you took the piece of ice and began to press it inside of Charlie without the preamble of the first piece. He squirmed on the bed, bucking his hips, trying to get away from the frozen intrusion. Before long, the chunk of ice was inside on his asshole. You licked around the bud, worming your tongue in where the ice had entered. You started to fuck his cold hole with your tongue. You wanted to warm him up before the main action.

You thought about it for a moment and decided to switch gears.

You removed your tongue and replaced it with two careful fingers. You sucked, nipped, and licked up his inner thigh, you left butterfly kisses along his pelvis as you stretched him with your fingers.

You wanted to watch him cum without his cock getting a single bit of the action. The thought of it almost made you laugh. You knew how needy and demanding he could be. It was nice to have your way with him, have absolute control over his pleasure.

Charlie would never admit to you exactly how hot he found all of this. The last thing he needed was to encourage his usually submissive boyfriend’s dominant streak. It was fun to see from him every now and again, but this did not need to become a regular thing.

You were finally satisfied with your prep work and you reached under your bed and found your small tub of Vaseline you kept for occasions like this. You popped the lid on it, scooped out a glob, then rapidly realized you forgot to take your pants off.

Damnit, damnit, damnit, you cursed yourself at you clumsily took pulled your jeans down with one hand, careful not to get any of the makeshift lube on the denim. It’d never come out. Once you had your jeans kicked off, you fished yourself out of your boxers and smeared the petroleum onto your hard shaft. What was left over on your hand got smeared across Charlie’s bud.

You rested Charlie’s legs over your shoulders, lifting his lower body completely off the mattress, and started to carefully push into him.

You held yourself there. As much as you wanted to fuck him and make him scream, you didn’t want to hurt him. No fun in having to explain those injuries to the family. You sank into him, inch by inch until you were balls deep.

You watched the expression on his face, looking for cues that he was ready. He kicked you. His cue was to kick you.

“Fine Charlie, you need to be fucked that bad? Needy little whore,” you mumbled, pretending to be irritated by his impatience. In all honesty, it was kind of hot that he wanted you that badly.

If he wanted it that fucking bad, who were you to say no. Your thrusts were a bit clumsy, but you picked up an unforgiving pace that was good enough to make Charlie’s eyes roll to the back of his head.

Maybe he’ll find a brain back there, you thought to yourself.

You shouldn’t have waited so long to get to fucking him, you weren’t going to last much longer, not with him squeezing you the way he was.

“God Charlie, I wish you could see yourself. The way you’re taking my fat cock, God, it’s like you’ve been practicin,” you mused, knowing he couldn’t reply and that he was probably too lost in his own pleasure to acknowledge your words, “I’d bet you fuck yourself on your fingers every night lookin for something that feels half as good as this,” you buried yourself in him, watching his cock twitch as the whiteish fluid leaked out.

“Oh Baby, you just came without me even touching your pretty cock,” you groaned. It was too hot. You switched from deep thrusts to small ones; you knew you were going to cum any second now, you just wanted to make sure it was deep inside him. You wanted him to feel you leak out of him.

You brought Charlie’s legs back down and leaned over, undoing the belt around his wrists.

You turned away, grabbing a rag you had laying around and you dipped it in the glass of water you had left over from the ice. He pulled boxers out of his mouth.

The first words out of his mouth?

“You happy now,” he asked, seemingly annoyed.

“Pleased as punch,” you were back between his legs, gently cleaning up the mess of bodily fluids and thick petroleum jelly.

You came into your hand and used the rag nearby to clean it up.

Probably need to wash that, you noted.

You got up with a stretch and noticed the wife beater and tan Sheriff’s shirt still laying on your floor. You couldn’t stop yourself from grinning.

You left your room shirtless, in only your boxers and jeans, joining Charlie in the kitchen. You came up behind him and wrapped your arms around his waist, resting your chin on his shoulder.

"I see you still have my shirt"

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sgtbradfords · 3 years

Note

“Is that my shirt?” For a Chenford prompt! Love your writing♥️

Thank you for the prompt anon! I hope this does the prompt justice 😉

Send me a prompt from this list!

When Lucy Chen woke up that morning it wasn’t to the sound of her alarm, no. It was to the sound of a fist banging on her front door before Jackson West barged into the room.

“Chen! Let’s go, we’re going to be late!” She heard as she startled awake, sitting up.

“Shit!” She yelled throwing back the covers as she stumbled out of the bed, her body wavering as her feet hit the floor.

“What happened?” Jackson asked from the doorway as Lucy began to run around her room.

“I don’t know! I think my phone died last night while I was on the phone with-“ she began telling him as she threw on the first articles of acceptable clothing she could find. “Can I borrow your charger in the car?”

“Sure. But hurry we're going to be late.”

“Thanks roomie!” she yelled as he walked out.

Lucy hurriedly finished getting dressed, throwing on a pair of flats to go with her outfit before grabbing her duffle bag, keys and phone before running out of the apartment. She took the stairs down, two at a time, towards the main floor, swinging the metal door that separates the inside from the outside as she sprinted to Jackson’s waiting car.

“This is not how I wanted to start my Friday!” she huffed to her roommate and friend as she shut the door, buckling quickly as they headed out onto the street.

Jackson held out his right hand, a wrapped breakfast bar laid in his palm. “I grabbed you breakfast.”

Lucy took it, unwrapping and taking a bite as she plugged up her phone. “Thank you.” She said between another bite.

“So, who were you talking to so late last night that caused your phone to die?”

Lucy grimaced. “You caught that huh?”

Jackson nodded. “If you’re not ready to talk about it, that’s ok. But at least tell me you ran a background check on him.”

She snorted. “I did and I promise that his intentions are sound.”

“His intentions?” Jackson questioned, looking over his sunglasses to the girl in the passenger seat. “And just what is that supposed to mean?”

“It means that it’s kind of serious.” She shrugged. “We’ve been on a few dates. He’s been to mine, I’ve been to his. He even FaceTimed my parents once.”

“He’s met your parents? And just how long has this-“

Jackson began to ask as Lucy’s phone charging in the cup holder began chiming. She picked it up, scrolling through her missed messages.

“Huh. That’s weird.”

“What?”

“I got a message from Grey telling me to plain clothes it today. Wonder what that’s all about.”

“Special assignment maybe? We are P2s now.”

Lucy furrowed her brow as she fired off a text message before she began fixing her hair into a bun. “Maybe, I guess we’ll find out during roll call.”

They made idle conversation going down the road as Lucy fixed her light make-up, Jackson steering the car into the parking lot, parking in their normal spot. “Hey, did you finish that report about the robbery from yesterday?”

Lucy grabbed her things, exiting the car. “Yeah, I need to thank Nolan for the backup. If he didn’t show when he did, I would hate to think what could have happened.”

They enter the department, Lucy telling Jackson about the two men who tried to rob the convenience store granny before they went their separate ways to the locker rooms.

Lucy placed her bag into her locker, grabbing her badge, holstering her gun, and double checking her ankle holster before she pocketed her knife.

“Hey, good catch yesterday with the Gardner Twins. They’re regulars, always in and out of jail but I heard that the old woman held her own?” Nyla congratulated as she adjusted the duty belt she just put on.

Lucy laughed, heading for the door. “Yeah, when I pulled up on scene, she had one held at gun point and the other at cane point which would have been nothing if it wasn’t for the blade sticking out of it.”

“Sounds like that is one grandma not to be messed with.”

“Definitely not, she had brass knuckles and pepper spray in her purse too.” Lucy told Nyla as they entered the meeting room, both taking their respective seats with the others at their tables in the back.

Angela Lopez walked in, sitting down beside Lucy. “Morning.”

“Morning.”

Angela turned around to Nyla, asking a question before she turned back around to the front. “Nice shirt.”

“Than-“ Lucy began saying as she looked down, stopping her words in their tracks. ‘Oh no.’ her mind repeated frantically. In her haste to get dressed she didn’t pay attention to the shirt she put on, sure she knew the olive green color, knew it would match her dark washed jeans but ‘I should have looked in the mirror.’ was really a statement she needed stamped on her forehead.

“Morning.” Tim said as he sat down in the chair next to Nyla. “You get a special assignment or something?” he asked, looking at his former rookie.

Lucy was still amidst her internal conflict. ‘Should I go change? How could I have been so stupid, this is what I get for not laying my clothes out last night.’

“Boot!” Tim said sternly, his voice a tone he hasn’t used on her in a while, pulling her out of her stupor.

“I’m sorry, did you ask something?”

“Yeah, what’s with the plain clothes?”

Lucy shrugged. “Grey told me to dress down.”

“And that means wearing your boyfriend’s shirt?” snorted Angela as she took a sip of her coffee.

Lucy panicked. “Oh this? This isn’t my boyfriend’s, it’s Jackson’s.”

“Jackson was in the Army?” Angela smirked, pointing out the green shirt with black lettering.

“No, it’s Sterling’s. He wore it on that military movie he made a few years ago.”

Angela looked at her incredulously before glancing at Nyla and Tim who was watching the interaction with great intent. “Uh-huh.”

“Alright let’s settle down and get to it…” Sergeant Grey said as he took his place behind the podium.

“What’d I miss?” Jackson asked as he quickly sat down in the other chair opposite of Lucy.

“My funeral.” She mumbled.

Jackson turned slightly “What?”

“Nothing.” She said quickly as Grey glared the two down.

Thirty minutes later Sergeant Grey had given Lucy her assignment, assisting the Bureau of Alcohol Tobacco Firearms and Explosives undercover at a local bar that was serving alcohol to minors.

“Hey, wait for me.” Said the voice of her former training officer behind her. She slowed her steps, allowing him to join her. “You want a ride?”

“Sure. You set?”

Tim motioned his head towards the garage bay, “Let’s go.”

Lucy may have been the most under qualified of all the female officers in the department to go undercover, but she had what the ATF was looking for and everyone has to start somewhere. She felt a sense of relief when Sergeant Grey partnered her with Tim for the day, the newly appointed Sergeant providing backup in case things went sideways.

“So, what’s your cover again?” Tim asked. He would be parked nearby, listening in with another ATF field agent as Lucy went on a ‘date’ with one of their agents while two others attempted to get served alcohol.

Lucy read the paper in her hand, the information vague besides the location of the bar and who they would be meeting with outside of the bar.

Tim nodded. “Did you bring another shirt?”

“No, Grey didn’t tell me anything other than to wear plain clothes, which I didn’t see till I had already left my apartment.”

“Isn’t that my shirt?” he asked, smirking.

“Apparently I feel asleep talking to someone on the phone last night and never plugged it up, which caused my phone to die, so my alarm to never went off and Jackson had to wake me up. I was in a bit of a rush this morning getting dressed and thought I was putting on my olive swing top.” She glared.

“I’m not complaining, you look better in it anyways.”

“Yeah, well I’m pretty sure Angela knows it’s yours.”

Tim shrugged “She’s a Detective for a reason. It was cute you know.”

“What was cute?”

“Hearing you snore.”

Lucy opened her mouth “I do not snore!”

“You do.” He laughed. “I can’t believe I never noticed it before last night.”

“I was tired, yesterday was a long day. Besides, it’s probably nothing compared to the logs that you saw at night.”

Tim looked at her before agreeing with what she said. “I’m not going to deny that. But at least my feet don’t feel like blocks of ice.”

“I can’t help that my feet stay cold! I don’t like wearing socks to bed.”

“Lucy, I don’t mind being your personal heater but maybe it wouldn’t hurt to keep an extra blanket or two next to the beds.”

Lucy thought for a moment as she pulled her hair out of its hold, tousling the brown waves. “Fine.”

“Or we could just make it bed, as in singular.” He offered as he parked the shop next to the curb.

“Is that your way of asking me to move in with you?”

“I don’t know, is it? We've been together almost a year, we're both in a good place right now and half of your closet is in my bedroom closet." He reminded her as he grabbed the handheld radio mounted to the dash.”7-Adam-19 show us out for special assignment.”

“7-Adam-19 10-4.”

“You don’t have to answer now, we can talk about more after shift.” He told her as he stepped out of the car. “You ready?” he asked as Lucy nodded her head, moving towards the small group of people on the sidewalk. “Let’s knock ‘em dead boot. Agent Edwards? Sergeant Tim Bradford this is Officer Lucy Chen, glad we could assist you today.”

#the rookie fic #tim bradford x lucy chen #chenford fic #chenford fanfic #fanfic #chenford

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heisnameless · 4 years

Text

Tonight’s Special

Flip Zimmerman x Clyde Logan x Female Reader

Warnings: Threesome (F/M/M), shameless flirting, minimal plot development, smut, dirty talk, some degrading language, blowjobs, fingering, voyeurism, cunnilingus, spit roasting, overstimulation, crying during sex (just a little), cum eating.

Summary: In which reader can’t help themselves from making comments about the hot detective that waltz right into the Duck Tape until they get their hands on him and Clyde catches them. The good stuff starts below the cut.

Word Count: 2,737

It’s been a long night. You can feel the knots in your shoulders slowly forming as you shift between tables, grabbing dirty glasses. Once you’re back behind the bar, you sigh as Clyde looks you over.

“Why don’t ya’ go home?” He offers, gesturing for you to place the glasses on the countertop which you oblige before shaking your head.

“I’m alright, I’ll stay. I don’t want to miss out on the show.” Your voice holds a teasing tone, a slight grin forming as you look from him to the rest of the bar. It was slowly beginning to fill up with the night’s occupants. Since you had started working at the Duck Tape, primarily helping with cleaning and stocking, it had become yours and Clyde’s thing to either bicker about the patrons or watch as they bickered amongst themselves.

“’course ya’ don’t.” He mutters at the same time that your eyes catch those of a broad man from across the bar. His eyes are as dark as Clyde’s save for the hint of allure that was rising as he watches you.

“That man,” you began just loud enough for Clyde to hear as you drop your head, reaching for a glass to clean, “is one tall glass of ‘fuck me’.”

He blinks, glancing from the said man back to you, brows pinching together before his jaw sets. “Y/N, I think ya’ need a glass of somethin’ right now.”

You laugh at his words, grabbing a towel to dry the glass you’ve just wash before leaving it to dry. You just shook your head, continuing to clean and dry glasses with only a few occasional glances across the bar to the other man. When he saunters over towards the bar, you watch from under your lashes to see the way he moves and Clyde has to nudge you out of the way. “Stop yer’ droolin’ ‘fore I really do send ya’ home.”

You gape at him, quickly covering it with a pout when the other man settles against the bar, taking a seat. When he asks for a beer, you turn to grab one before Clyde can, knowing you’ll probably get a good scolding for it later since bartending definitely wasn’t on your job application. You take this time, however, to bend slowly, showing off the back of your thighs in the pretty skirt you wore. When you turned, both men were staring at you; although, Clyde was quick to turn his head when his cheeks turned a slight pink, shuffling down the bar.

“Is he your boyfriend or something?” The man asks then, eyes flickering up your body, beckoning you forward before you pop the cap from the glass bottle and place it on the counter for him. You can’t even form your words as you hear his voice, so deep and soothing, that you just give a faint ‘uh-uh’ as you lean against the bar, towards him. He gives a faint laugh. “Do you have a name?”

“Y/N.” You answer almost immediately, giving it only brief thought of whether or not you truly want to give a stranger your actual name. He takes a drink from his beer and you try not to watch to see the way that his body moves underneath the fabric of his flannel.

“Y/N,” he begins, your name rolling off his tongue before he smiles, a wicked smile, fitting for a man that knows what he’s doing, “my name’s Flip.”

“Flip.” You repeat, leaning your cheek in your hand as you mimic him with the way he had said your name. His jaw twitches slightly, knuckles whitening as his fingers grasp his beer tighter and you grin. As you turn your head to grab a dirty glass, you hear Clyde clear his throat, giving you a look to remind you that while you could speak with the customers, you still had a job to do. Flip notices and slides a bill onto the counter, paying for his drink.

“Don’t let me get you in trouble, doll.”

You waited until it’s closer to closing time before you dropped the suggestion of taking your conversation with Flip elsewhere. He was quick to accept and you waited until Clyde turned his back long enough to pull the man to the back with you. It’s then that he gets his hands on you, lifting you up to make the escape from the loud bar quicker.

“There’s a room, right here.” You breathe, turning your head to point down the hall as he just stares up at you, walking blindly. As you look down at him, his eyes are dark, pupils blown while he carries you, hands on your thighs. His lips are on yours before you make it to the room. Your fingers move into his hair, tugging lightly so that he groans and pulls your hips down against his, making you gasp as you feel the sheer size of him.

You shift just enough to get him to release you before you slide to your knees before him, hands coming up to the front of his jeans to ghost the outline of his hardening length. Slowly, his fingers move into your hair so he can get a good look at you as you undo the top button of his jeans. His fingers roam down your cheek, settling under your chin to lift your face as you pull down the zipper.

“You looked absolutely gorgeous out there, but I think I like you even better right here.” His voice is rough as the pad of his thumb brushes your bottom lip. Willingly, your lips part and close around his thumb, making him curse as you drop a hand between your thighs, hiking your skirt up around your waist. Once you’ve pulled his jeans down his thighs, he removes his thumb from your lips. Leaning forward, you mouth him through his boxers just to tease and his fingers curl in your hair, keeping you in place as he gives a slight thrust of his hips.

You’re reaching up to pull his boxers down and wrap your hand around his cock when he lifts you from the ground, pulling you against him before he presses you against the wall. “You’re gonna cum before I fuck your pretty mouth.”

Flip’s hand slides up under your skirt, going straight to the front of your underwear and your hips buck against the feel of his fingertips. It’s a silent plea for him to touch you and he obeys, pushing the flimsy material to the side to slide two fingers into your waiting cunt. Your fingers dig into his back, thighs parting to make room for him as your head falls back against the wall.

“Shit, you’re squeezing my fingers so fucking tight, you like getting fucked against the wall?” His lips graze the curve of your neck and your back arches slightly, exposing your skin to him. His fingers curl in a way that make your hips grind against his hand, chasing the promise of an orgasm. “Bet you do this so fucking much, don’t you, doll? You’ll do so well on my dick.”

Fingers thrust into you, fast and messy before they leave you, making you whine. A moment later, they’re on your clit, relentless as they pinch the swollen bud. You’re so close to climaxing right there on his fingers that you don’t hear the door open, can hardly even hear anything other than Flip, and the sound of your slick between your thighs. Flip still has his face against your neck, fingers slowing as you see who’s at the door. Clyde. Fucking Clyde. You hadn’t even heard him yelling for you in the hallway. “Y/N, are ya’–”

There’s something about the way that he doesn’t turn his eyes away from either of you that makes your thighs shift together, makes you give a soft moan in response. His knuckles turn white as he grasps the doorknob a bit harder, choking on a noise in his throat. Flip was beginning to pull away from you, mouth opening to say something, he doesn’t know what, when Clyde found his words. “Don’t ya’ know not ta’ keep a lady waitin’? Make ‘er cum.”

Flip shifts his leg between your thigh to part them further for him, fingers sinking back into you. Your eyes remain on Clyde, watching as his jaw clenches and he gives you that dark, lustful look the moment he hears the noises that Flip draws from you. It isn’t until you cum around Flip’s fingers, thighs shaking with the force of it that you look away from Clyde as your eyes flutter closed. You’re still coming down from the high, Flip whispering praise into the crook of your neck when Clyde speaks again. “M’office, both’a ya’.”

You’re being lifted again once Flip nods, his only sign of agreeing and you whine, nudging your nose against the side of Flip’s head. Clyde’s already turned and made his way down the hallway to his office, leaving the door wide open. Once the three of you are enclosed in the room, you’re settled back onto your feet.

“Do ya’ want this?” Clyde asks as he turns from where he had been facing the wall opposite of the door. He’s removed his false arm for the time being, not wanting it to hinder your needs. Flip brushes his hand up your spine, making you shiver. To answer, you begin to lift your shirt over your head before dropping it to the floor, jaw set as you keep eye contact with him.

“Doll, I think he asked you a question.” Flip speaks, bending to kiss your bare shoulder as his hands slide to your hips, pulling you back against him. His cock presses against your ass and you can’t help but grind back, lips parting with a soft noise of want.

“Yes, I want this.” The moment the words leave you, Clyde is stepping forward, dipping his head so he can kiss you while Flip’s fingers move to the front of your skirt, undoing the clasp and letting it fall to the floor. Your own hands move to push at Clyde’s shirt as Flip shifts behind you, removing his clothing and letting it form a pile on the floor.

“Get on the desk.” Flip breathes, pulling away as Clyde gets his jeans off with a faint grunt. You obey the singular command, quick to move to sit your ass right on the desk, lets hanging off. You start to reach for him to pull his boxers away finally when he drops to his knees, tucking his face right between your thighs without another word. Your fingers move into his hair, tugging as you gasp, body shuddering when his tongue dips between your folds, tasting you so generously.

When you turn your head, you spot Clyde a few feet away, now fully naked as he watches the two of you. His hand is wrapped around his thick cock, stroking slow. Carefully, you reach a hand out, beckoning him forward, silently asking to please him. He doesn’t hesitate to come forward. The idea of your hand, of your mouth, wrapped around him made his cock jump. Then, when you touch him, his mouth parts and his breathing shudders before you curl your body just enough so you can take him into your mouth. Between your thighs, Flip sucks on your clit, making you moan around Clyde as you slowly take him down your throat. His fingers are gentle at the back of your head, cradling you close as he gives a small thrust of his hips at the vibration your moans gave.

You came a second time on Flip’s tongue, coating his beard in your slick as you kept Clyde in your mouth, your fingers coming up to grasp at his thighs. Then, you relaxed your jaw, looking up at him, silently pleading for him to just let go. It takes him a moment to catch on to the look your eyes hold, his fingers curling slightly in your hair as you give a slight nod of confirmation. Flip moves from between your thighs then, eyes taking in the sight of you as he finally pulls off your underwear. “Tastes like a fucking peach. You want a taste?”

Clyde’s eyes are keyed in on the way that his cock slides out of your mouth, fitting right back inside like it’s supposed to be there. He gives a faint huff before shaking his head. His fingers have moved from your hair to stroke your cheek, silent praise for how well you’re taking him. “I’ll taste ‘er after I use ‘is mouth for what it’s worth. Feels so fuckin’ warm.”

“Fine by me, I’ve got another hole to fill up.” Flip nudges the head of his cock against your entrance, making your hips lift in need as your eyes flutter closed. You feel him prod against your clit, teasing, and you whimper, begging for him to stretch you open. And then, he gives it to you and you gasp, mouth opening wider around Clyde. He takes advantage of this, hand sliding back to the back of your head, thrusting into the warm confines of your mouth until he touches the back of your throat. Like this, you’re completely and utterly full with both men pressed into the hilt of your mouth and cunt.

Like this, your body is on display for both men, sprawled across the desk as it rocks beneath you from the force of both of their thrusts. Flip’s starting slow, pulling out just long enough before he slams back into you, sending sparks through your entire body. Clyde, on the other hand, is taking advantage of that mouth of yours. His hand moves from your hair again, fingers brushing the base of your neck in a way that makes you shiver before he tugs down your bra, palming at your breast. As his fingers brush your nipples, you mewl in response, snaking a hand down between your thighs, bumping the mass that is Flip as you find your clit.

“Ya’ gon’ cum for us, darlin’?” Clyde breathes, pinching your nipple between two fingers. Flip has a hold of your hips, his thrusts quickening as he feels you tighten down around him, edging closer to your third orgasm of the night. It’s so bittersweet that it brings tears to your eyes as Clyde pulls from your mouth just long enough, letting you cry out as you cum around Flip’s cock. Clyde strokes his cock just inches from your face now, watching as the delighted look you have on your face twists into discomfort at the sensitivity between your thighs, but you can’t push Flip away, not even if you wanted to. You feel like you’ve turned into a puddle right there on your boss’ desk.

Flip fucks into you as you reach out for Clyde’s cock once more, mouth opening for him, a faint whimper in the back of your throat. You know Flip’s speaking but you can he seems so distant, so far away. “You take us so fucking well, you know that? Got the best pussy in this entire county, I bet. It’s a shame no one else is gonna get to enjoy you like we do, we’ve ruined you, haven’t we? I’m gonna cum, mark you all up.”

You can’t even nod, you just moan in response, feeling him shift between your thighs before you feel the emptiness, the loss of him followed by warmth coating your stomach. Clyde twitches in your mouth, growing heavier by the second as you work your mouth, head bobbing for a moment before you still, letting him take control again. He pulls out, stroking himself as you stick your tongue out, wanting to taste him. His cum spurts onto your tongue, lips, and chest, leaving you coated and pretty before your body sinks against his desk.

Slowly, you bring a hand down to your stomach, eyes turning to where Flip still stands between your thighs, dipping your fingers into a pool of his cum before you bring it up to your lips. His cock jumps in response, eyes shifting from you to Clyde before he speaks, voice dropping an octave all over again. “I hope you locked up before you came back here because I think I want to use that fucking mouth now.”

This one’s for you, @aloneandsleepless.

#flip zimmerman x reader #clyde logan x reader #flip zimmerman x clyde logan x reader #flip zimmerman x reader smut #clyde logan x reader smut #adam driver #adam driver fanfiction #flip zimmerman/reader smut #clyde logan/reader smut

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fragmentedink-archived · 3 years

Text

Hell to Pay: Part Fifty- Three

I, II, III, IV, V, VI, VII, VIII, IX, X, XI, XII, XIII, XIV, XV, XVI, IX, IX, XX, XXI, XXII, XXIII, XIV, XV, XVI, XVII, XVIII, XVIIII, XXX, XXXI, XXXII, XXXIII, XXXIV, XXXV, XXXVI, XXXVII, XXXVIII, XXXIX, XL, XLI, XLII, XLIII, XLIV, XLV, XLVI, XLVII, XLVIII, XLIX, XLX, LI, LII

cowritten by @lux-scriptum

Lev put his hands on his hips. Cameron and Ash had done most of the heavy lifting, and Mami and Cameron had gotten the food ready, so Lev really hadn’t done much, but it’d turned out nice, and in the end that was all Lev could ask for, really. They had indeed gone with an ocean theme, to match the nursery, and since despite Lev’s efforts to help in some way or another, Cameron had been in charge of everything and took little input, it was all rather tasteful.

Lev fussed with the placement of the snacks, even though he knew Cameron was going to come along behind him and fix it again. He felt useless, especially with Ash reminding him to not push himself.

As expected, Cameron appeared, smacking Lev’s hand away. “Knock it off,” Cameron reprimanded. “The others should be arriving soon.”

“Is Biela coming?” Lev asked. They’d sent an invite; it’d’ve been rude to not. To Lev’s knowledge, she hadn’t responded.

“Likely not. She’ll probably send Caius in her stead.”

“Mm.” Lev had liked Caius, the one time he’d met him. He was pretty. And seemed kind. Friendly, at the very least.

Cameron lifted a brow, and grabbed Lev’s hand when Lev reached to adjust a platter of pastries. “If you don’t leave it alone, I’ll make you go baby sit Nik.”

Lev opened his mouth to argue, but Nik himself had appeared in the doorway, rubbing his eyes with the palm of his hand. “What’s the party for?” the pregnant omega mumbled.

“You,” Lev grumbled, making his way over to Nik. At least he was allowed to fuss over Nik, and he did so with a tiny spark of pleasure, pressing a kiss to Nik’s cheek and brushing his green and black hair from his eyes. “You’re not supposed to be awake yet. It was gonna be a surprise.”

Nik frowned sleepily at Lev. “I had to pee,” Nik complained bitterly.

“We’ve been planning for a week,” Lev informed him, before brushing his cheek lightly. “Oh well. Now I don’t have to figure out a way to get you dressed.”

“Planning what for a week?” Nik muttered. “My birthday isn't until next week.” He pulled a face. “And I can’t even get drunk.”

“Your baby shower,” Lev said, guiltily tucking away Nik’s birthday to worry about later.

“My what?”

Lev sighed, and started herding Nik out the door. He could practically feel Cameron rolling his eyes at him. “Your baby shower. Did you think I would let you get away without one?”

Nik shrugged. “I didn’t even think about it.”

With another sigh, Lev slid his arm around Nik’s waist. “I wasn’t going to not give you one. We invited your brothers. Both of them. You deserve it.”

Nik made a face at him.

“Come on. Let's get dressed,” Lev said, bonking his shoulder with Nik’s.

---

Nik let Lev lead him back to the bedroom to get clothes. He hadn't really thought much about clothes lately and had been wearing sweats for the most part.

He thumbed through a few pairs of jeans and frowned. "None of these are going to fit, are they?"

"...Cameron went shopping."

Nik squinted and looked through his jeans once more. He pulled a pair out and stretched. "When did he do this?" Nik frowned at the alien jeans with their stretchy fabric in horror before shrugging it off and grabbing a loose black shirt to go with it.

Lev had no answer other than his own shrug and took it at face value. The idea of Cameron in a maternity store was too hilarious a thought to stay irritable at it.

Nik worked at getting himself slowly dressed. Without any coffee in his system, he was fighting the urge to just go back to bed. Though luckily enough for him, he wasn't showing nearly as much as what he had seen on the internet with people pregnant the same length as he.

"Seems like a pretty big party for like seven people." Nik said. He rubbed his eyes, pulling the last bit of sleepiness away. "Unless you decided to invite his royal prickliness too."

"Well I assume Bay is coming. Celeste too; they'll bring the babies," Lev said. "We also invited Biela too- though we don't think she'll come."

"I should hope not. I might do something hormonal like poison her sparkly punch, or something."

"Nikolas."

"Hm?" Nik started for the doorway, expecting Lev to follow him back to where he was sure the festivities would eventually begin.

By the time they got there, Bay and Nate had already arrived with Lucas sitting contently on Bay's hip chewing on a teething toy. And their boy scout was promptly hovering behind them.

"Silas," Nik said. "Didn't think you'd be here. Unless you're here because of Lev, of course."

Silas' only response was to flip him off, though it was short lived by Nate smacking him upside the head hard enough Nik heard Silas' neck pop. Nate gave Silas a dirty warning look.

Nik snorted. "Need to learn new tricks."

"Hi Silas," Lev said, from Nik’s side.

Silas gave a disgruntled, "Hey Lev."

Nate looked pleased at Silas' newfound self restraint. "The party looks great, Nik."

"I know, I did great," he said, lying through his teeth. Nik smooshed Levs face away when Lev pinched his hip. "My taste: impeccable."

Nate rose a singular groomed brow. "Oh I'm sure." He looked to Lev. "It looks great, Lev."

Already Lev had glued himself back to Nik’s side. He looked a little put out as he said honestly, “Most of the praise should go to Cameron and Ash and Mami. I wasn’t allowed to do much.”

"Well next time don't die," Ash said, appearing back in the doorway. "That way you'll actually be able to do some of the heavy lifting."

Nik frowned deeply at him, especially once Lev froze next to him and looked uncomfortable.

Ash looked perfectly unfazed.

Mami appeared a heartbeat later, to which Nate instantly perked up somehow even more. Though her eyes were trained on the well behaved six month old in Bay's arms.

The tiny woman nearly flew across the room to get to him, only for Bay to stare her down and refuse to relinquish the baby. "No."

Nate instantly jumped in. "He's still, ah, getting used to letting people hold Lucas," he said, quickly. "I can get Eden for you, if you like?"

Nik's hand flew over his mouth at the mirrored glare coming from both Mami and Bay. She sized Bay up, clearly deciding if it's worth it or not to challenge both her king and the omega that carried the partly legless bundle of joy. Bay's eyes narrowed. "I said no."

She huffed and tore her attention back to Nate who gave her a warm hug, though she was absolutely miniscule compared to Nate's height of six-two. When she pulled back, Nate went to disappear, presumably to find the little terror most likely taking a nap.

When he came back, Nate not only had Eden crawling all over him, he also had Adrien and his wife in tow. Neither of them had particularly warm or friendly looks on their faces, though that was usually par for the course for Adrien and Dyaana.

"Hello," Lev offered.

Dyaana eyed Lev, and gave him a slight smile whereas Adrien looked halfway in pain and just nodded once before coming to give Nik a hug.

Lev wisely removed himself from Niks waist before he got crushed by pure muscle. When Adrien pulled apart, Nik said, "didn't think you'd step foot in Demon Territory."

"The things you do for family," Adrien deadpanned.

Nik only grinned.

"Hey where's your clone?"

"Babysitter," Adrien said. "I'd rather not risk my two year old getting eaten by your boyfriend."

"Hey, Cameron doesn't eat infants. If he had, he would have eaten Eden," Nik said. "She's far more appealing as a meal than Mathias."

Adrien's only response to that was to roll his eyes. At that Lev decided to usher Nik to an armchair. "I am not an invalid, Lev," he said, plopping down anyways.

Lev perched on the armrest and kissed the top of Nik's hair. "I know dear."

When Adrien snorted, Nik threw him a poisonous glare. "Oh shut up."

Eden was still screeching happily in Mami's arms, getting all the attention she wanted, even though she was trying to latch her tiny teeth in Mami's shoulder. Mami easily avoided it by giving her a toy worthy of her teeth.

It was another twenty minutes before Celeste arrived. The last time he saw the witch she was about to pop. But judging by the fussy newborn in her arms, that was no longer the case. She came over to offer Nik a hug, and to show off her tiny pale baby. "We named him Dakota," she informed them.

Lev instantly cooed over him. "He’s so cute," Lev said. "Can I hold him?"

Ash found his way over to butt his nose in like he usually did. He squinted at Lev, but Celeste was already moving to hand him over. "Of course. Watch his head?"

"I know," he assured.

"Wait," Nik said, "Do you know that Ash is staying here…?"

"Yes she does," Ash said, "And she also is staying here. They both are."

Nik's brows shot up. "Is Cameron aware of this?"

Ash lifted a shoulder. "I told him."

"You 'told' him," Nik echoed.

"Dunno what you expected. I have a wife and a kid that I need to be with and I have a stubborn friend who refuses to listen to me. I told you I'm making myself everyone's problem."

Celeste looked pained. But Lev seemed perfectly blissed out; he hadn't even looked up from the fussy baby in his arms. "I don't think I'll mind having them here." He looked up at Celeste. "You've always been nice."

She gave him a tired smile. "I certainly try." She cut Ash a look. "Some people make it difficult sometimes."

Ash folded his arms. "If they don't want me to be difficult, maybe they should try to listen to me for once."

Celeste rolled her eyes but looked back to Nik. "I'm very happy for all of you. I'll help however I can."

Lev’s focus was already trained back on Dakota. Nik squirmed a little. "Thanks, I guess."

She just squeezed his hand.

---

Cyrus lit the last candle and shook out the match. He looked over at Darius as he settled on the bed. “On a scale of one to ten, how bad of an idea is this?” he asked drily.

Darius thought on that for a moment. “Probably a seven point two.”

After giving a small sigh, Cyrus laid back on the bed. “Better than I ten, I suppose.”

When he opened his eyes again, he was no longer lying on his bed. He wasn’t even in his own house anymore. The walls around him were all earthy tones, the green accents only catching his eye briefly before he settled on Asmi themself.

The god was tall, their dark skin a deeper brown than his own, and bright blue eyes that pinned him in place. After a moment where he froze -afraid, if he was willing to admit it - he dipped his head respectfully. When he looked at them again, he noted that they were still seated in their chair, face thin and tight, bags under their eyes, though they kept their chin high.

“Am I right in assuming that Darius explained what’s going on?” Cyrus ventured.

"You poisoned me once and now you want me to give you the tools to be able to do so again?"

Cyrus forced himself to keep his gaze steady. “If I do it right, it shouldn’t this time.”

"Shouldn't have happened the first time," they said flatly. "Necromancy defies balance and you weakened me for an angel who didn't bother communing with me in the first place. You didn't bother communing with me in the first place. And now that you need my help, you finally deign to bother?"

Cyrus inclined his head ever so slightly. “Ignorance is not an excuse, but it’s the only explanation I personally have.” He folded his hands carefully on his knee. “I made a promise. I don’t break them.” Asmi gave him the time he needed to gather his words. “I am sorry. For everything. I’ve never-” He paused again, frustrated by how hard it was to piece together the words. “It’s not an excuse, that I was never taught how to commune with you. Darius had to teach me, and you’re not even his god. But I want to do right by Darius. If nothing else, he’s been kind to me, and kind to everyone. I promised Cameron I would try. This is me trying. I want to make a deal that will work, not flub the spell again.”

They seemed to think on it; to weigh his words carefully. "What kind of deal?" They finally said.

“Same as the one that brought Levant back.” Cyrus considered his words and then amended, “A similar one, at least. Some sort of exchange.”

"And what's stopping you?"

Cyrus shook his head. “I don't want to risk getting the exchange wrong. That’s what released the dark magic into the earth in the first place. The spell unravelled, and I won’t let that happen again. But I won’t sacrifice Cameron Luain for this spell. It makes both this one and the one that brought Levant back completely pointless.”

Asmi nodded slowly and leaned back in their chair, blue eyes narrowed in thought. "Pick your sacrifice one last time and I will cover the remaining sacrifice to your spell. I warn you, the price will be heavy and I am not so easy to forgive the disruption you have caused me. Make sure this is worth it before you once again defy me."

Cyrus nodded slowly. “Thank you,” he said softly. When Asmi didn’t reply, Cyrus added, “If it’s not arrogant of me to ask... I’d like to talk to you again.” He cocked his head ever so slightly. “I know nothing of you, as my god or as a god in general. I’d like to fill in the gaps my education has.”

"It's not arrogant," they said. "It's what's expected of you. So yes, you may. There's plenty you need to get caught up on."

Cyrus limited himself to a small smile. “Then I look forward to speaking to you in the future,” he said politely. “Thank you, again.”

Rather than reply, they gave a tired flick of their wrist.

Cyrus blinked his eyes open to see his own ceiling. Sorin was sprawled against his side, purring as he kneaded his claws gently in Cyrus’ arm. Cyrus rolled his head until he could find Darius. “I think I got permission. I need to call Cameron.”

---

The party had been well underway when Cameron stepped out of the room. He slipped into his office several hallways down before his phone started to buzz. He didn't let it finish its first ring before answering. "Are you ready, then?"

“Sort of.” Cyrus hesitated. “I spoke with Asmi. They’ve promised as long as someone is sacrificed, they’ll take care of the rest, rather than risk the spell failing. I just don’t have anyone to sacrifice, to my knowledge.”

"Well lucky for you," Cameron said, "I currently have a spineless traitor rotting in my basement. Will that appease your morals?"

“A traitor?” Cyrus pressed mildly.

"A person who betrays a friend, country or a principle," Cameron replied, matching his tone. "A traitor."

“How did he betray you?”

"Well now, that's my business, now isn't it?"

There was a long pause, and then, “Did they kill anyone?”

"He's my employee."

The sigh the witch gave was audible through the phone even if Cameron hadn’t been a demon. “Fine. I’ve got a few things to pull together but I’m mostly ready, whenever you are.”

Cameron promptly hung up his phone and smoothed out his suit. He gave himself five heartbeats to settle before joining the festivities.

Caius had finally arrived, with many gifts in tow, despite it being demonic custom to not celebrate an infant until after its birth. Adapting to Nik’s angelic ancestry, he imagined. Cameron hadn't bothered saying as much when Lev suggested a baby-shower. If that was what the angel thought Nik needed, then he would provide.

Nik instantly eyed him from where he was, brows rose in question, but Cameron went to turn his focus to the Crown Prince currently placing the gifts along the table. "You seem to be in a rather generous mood, my prince," Cameron observed.

Caius flashed him a dazzling smile. "Why you make it sound like I'm not always in a giving mood, my loyal subject."

"I imagined a massacre would dampen your rather optimistic spirits."

Grief flickered in Caius' blue eyes. "All the more reason to celebrate a new life."

"Hm."

"I brought you all gifts," Caius said, with an echo of cheerfulness. "Including one for him."

"Much thanks." Cameron looked Nik's way to see him talking animatedly with Ash and Lev and Nate. He seemed to have been brought to a better mood with the sole focus on him. "It's always an honor to receive the eye of the crown."

Caius snorted at Cameron’s ingrained court-speak, but said nothing of it. Merely squeezed his shoulder before disappearing back into the party to give gifts to their respective recipients.

---

Admittedly, after so many months of solitude or just Cameron and Nik for company, the party was a little overwhelming. He drew comfort from the fact that Nik was right there, and Cameron lingered on the edges of the party being Cameron.

The fact that Caius was very friendly helped, though. Lev barely knew the man, but he was pretty and his smile seemed both genuine and calm. He laughed easily and didn’t seem bothered by the amount of angels in the room with him, despite being the Crown Prince of demonic territory.

At some point during the festivities, Caius pulled Lev aside, though. Lev glanced back at Nik, but let Caius with only a flustered, “Okay.”

“I got you something,” Caius said, flashing him another smile that definitely made Lev flush a little.

“Nik’s the one who’s pregnant,” Lev blurted. He flushed deeper, and then said quickly, “I don’t mean to be rude, it’s just Nik’s day, I wasn’t expecting anything.”

“I got everyone a present,” Caius said easily, unbothered.

Lev blinked down at the box, confusion at why it looked very much like a ring box catching him off guard. The brief glance up at the prince told him he was very amused, and Lev had to wonder if he was a telepath like Biela. When he opened it, though, a locket was nestled inside.

“Oh,” Lev said, picking it up gently. He thumbed it open to find a picture of Cameron, Nik, and Eden each in its own little section. “Oh.”

“Were you expecting an engagement ring?” Caius asked.

“Oh,” Lev spluttered. “No, not expected, I-” He gestured helplessly at the box, flushed deeply. “I love it, really.” He ran his finger over the picture of Nik, knowing his face was softening as he did so. “It’s perfect.”

Caius said, “Well I’m glad. You’re not an easy person to pinpoint.”

“I don’t want much,” Lev said honestly.

Caius shrugged. “Just the important things.”

Lev let his attention track through the room, hitting on Cameron, Nik, and Eden one by one. “Exactly,” he said softly. He switched his gaze back to Caius, offering him a smile. “Thank you. Truly. I love it.”

Caius winked at him, but before he said anything else, Nik made his way over. He gave Lev a pointed look. “What’s going on over here?” Nik asked. “You look like you’re about to ask his hand in marriage, Levant.”

“No,” Lev promised, tucking into Nik’s side pointedly. “I was just thanking him. He got me a gift. See?” He showed it to Nik with enthusiasm.

Nik kissed his cheek. “It’s very pretty. Where’s my attention?”

A laugh bubbled up in his throat. “You’ve got a whole party. I wasn’t gone long.” He shot Caius an apologetic look.

"Well let me make it up to you," Caius said to Nik. "As you're doing all the heavy lifting, you deserve a gift of your own, yes?"

Nik arched a brow. "I'm literally doing nothing other than being a rotisserie oven."

“Nikolas,” Lev hissed, poking him gently. “Be polite.”

Nik raised his brows but Caius only laughed. "Even still. Not easy. I understand you like music?"

"Something like that, yeah."

Caius' smile widened. "Great! I actually worked with a few different craftsmen and musicians to have something built for you. Excuse me."

When Caius disappeared back to the piles of gifts he had brought, Nik turned back to Lev. "Very pretty isn't he?"

Lev could feel heat rising in his cheeks yet again. “Yes,” Lev said primly. “There’s no need to tease"

"I have never teased you a day in your life," Nik said. "Merely stating an observation."

“You tease me daily,” Lev informed him, but he still smiled at Nik, reaching up to brush Nik’s hair from his eyes. “Every single day, Nikolas. Every day.”

“Are you calling a pregnant omega a liar?”

“Maybe so,” Lev hummed. He kissed the corner of Nik’s mouth. “Maybe so.”

Caius came back with an elegant cedar guitar. The gleaming guitar’s finish was clearly done to bring out the natural colors of the wood. Nik’s eyes trailed over the body of the guitar and rested on the careful mosaic beadwork around the hollow. “That design work is specific to Tullum,” Nik said, vaguely accusatory; though mostly amused. “Are you trying to buy me off?”

Caius seemed unbothered. “Not particularly. Just trying to gift you something you would actually enjoy. I find personal gifts are more memorable.”

“Sure,” Nik said, but he was still moving closer to run his fingers along that delicate beadwork.

“Thank you,” Lev said, since Nik didn’t seem inclined to.

Caius merely winked at him.

Lev blushed, since Nik seemed too interested in his new guitar to be embarrassed. He certainly was interested enough to take it from Caius and strum a few bars. Lev elbowed Nik gently. Nik ignored him, but Caius seemed pleased anyway.

Caius dipped himself into a mini bow. “Now, if you’ll excuse me, it’s Cameron’s turn.”

---

Cameron led the prince back towards his office where they could be alone without prying party guests could interfere. He took the gift meant for Darius and sat it carefully on the desk, and turned back to Caius. “I received a call from the witch who will be performing the spell,” Cameron said. “I figured you would want to be informed.”

Caius slipped his hands smoothly into his pockets. “I would.” Caius cocked his head, eyeing Cameron very carefully. “You have certainly come a long way from the bastard whore I met you as.” There wasn’t any disrespect in his words, merely a statement of observation. “Now a lord in your own right, with your own family.”

“I am merely filling in a role that needed filling,” Cameron said. “Though I am grateful nonetheless.”

“Hm.”

“The resurrection,” Cameron said, pointedly, drawing attention from whatever point Caius was clearly trying to make. “Should be happening within the week.”

Caius gave him a look, but let the insolence slide. “So you have someone lined up to be slaughtered for a sacrifice?”

“Slaughtered is a large word for a demon with a weak spine, your grace.”

Caius lifted a groomed brow. “Is that so?”

“The witch’s morals interfered with choosing a warm body, and luckily enough, I happened to have a traitor rotting in my basement.”

Caius snorted. “Traitor? From the rather loud screaming, I did imagine someone was being tortured in this house.” He tapped his temple. “I’d like to see this traitor.”

With little choice to that matter, Cameron led the prince through the house, down to the basement where Sage was still chained up. Cameron had been keeping him well fed and in peak condition outside of his routine torturing. Sage rolled his head towards them, tiredly, but there was a bit of surprise - and a new found fear- flickering in his eyes when he saw Caius next to him.

Caius eyed him slowly, circling the chair bolted into the floor. The impeccable clothes tailored to Caius’ frame were a stark contrast to the sharp bleakness of the room, though Cameron knew the weight of power a good suit held, and how to weaponize it.

When Caius stopped in front of the chair, he had a small smile gracing his face. “I could hear your thoughts from upstairs,” he said. “Clearly you wanted my attention.”

Sage sucked in a haggard breath, trying to not look at Cameron. “Just make him kill me,” he rasped. “I’ve been here for months-”

“My sister was tortured by angels for months on end,” Caius said, unfazed. “She was whipped and beaten and carved up and she hadn’t broken. She hadn’t begged for death, or whatever pathetic attempt at mercy this is. In fact, the difference is,” he said, “this was rather well deserved. Your treasonous actions against your lord led to the events of millions of children dying, so, if you were to die, it’s going to be for something that is definitely not for your benefit.” Caius leaned forward, just enough to keep the blood from touching him. “Don’t worry, your suffering will soon end.”

Caius leaned back and turned to Cameron. “Do what you need. So long as another innocent isn’t taken from these lands, I couldn’t care less.”

Cameron’s mouth twitched, but he just inclined his head.

---

The day had been tense and heavy for Darius. Between getting everything in line with Asmi and Cyrus, and also not returning to the Manor, knowing Destris was lurking the halls, Darius had decided to spend his time that night playing a small game of fetch with Sorin in his demonic form.

A small ball of paper used a rather small amount of energy, so it was easy to keep up. Around three in the morning, they had been playing the quiet game going for the last few hours after Cyrus retired to bed. Sorin had been kind enough to keep him company while his mate slept without him.

It was then that the front door opened silently. Sorin flicked his ears at Cameron, who promptly ignored him and started his way back through the house. Darius rose to his feet and followed him back, veering around him to get to Cyrus before he did to give the witch a heads up.

He touched Cyrus’ shoulder, in effort to wake him. He blinked sleepily at Darius, eyes flashing gold from the amount of swollen magic Cyrus had building inside him. “I’m assuming Cameron is here?” The amount of pure tired that was in Cyrus’ voice didn’t go unnoticed or unappreciated by Darius.

Cameron walked into the room not even a heartbeat later. “Have I come at a bad time?” He sounded very unsympathetic.

Darius flashed Cyrus an apologetic wince.

All Cyrus said was, “No,” while rising to a sitting position. “Are you here to speak to Darius?”

If he hadn’t been watching Cameron’s every move the last five hundred years, he would have missed the way Cameron’s jaw set. “Yes.”

Cyrus gave the smallest of sighs, but stood up. “I have my supplies in my study.”

Unsurprisingly, Cameron merely turned around and most likely started towards the study. Darius simply waited patiently for Cyrus to get ready.

Cyrus rubbed at his face, stifling a yawn with his wrist as he followed Cameron. His movements were slow and heavy, but he only made his way into the study and began lighting candles while Sorin followed, tail swishing over the ground like a fluffy ginger ribbon.

Cameron stood stiffly out of the way, slender hands in his pockets while he waited, unblinkingly in pure silence. Darius did not need his magic to know that Cameron getting here was like pulling teeth.

Darius could only imagine the weight in his chest he’d be feeling at the idea of Cameron avoiding him to the point he has to force himself to be here- to speak to him.

There was relief in Cyrus’ voice as he began the incantation for Darius to manifest to Cameron. When Cameron’s pale eyes slid to him, unreadable as ever, Darius curled a lock of hair behind his ear, if only to relieve some of his own tension. “You wanted to speak with me?”

Cameron’s lips thinned.

Darius gave him the time to be able to put together the words he needed to patiently. Finally, Cameron fixed his jaw once more and said, “I am assuming you still want to be resurrected?”

“Do you still want me to be resurrected?”

Cameron’s eyes narrowed. “The Prince has gifted me papers of your reinstatement as a citizen of Razya the moment you are alive. As if you had never been dead in the first place.”

A citizen of Razya? Darius hadn’t even been considered a citizen when he was alive. Bastards hold no citizenship, no rights, no protection. He hadn’t even had a home before he had been abducted when he was a child. Merely living on the streets. A pretty child with no home was easy prey.

“That was very kind of the prince.”

“Mm.”

“Is that all you wished to tell me?” Darius asked, after a heavy silence.

“I imagine you’re aware that Nik is pregnant.”

When Darius nodded, Cameron said, “I mated him, a few weeks ago when his father tried to stake a claim on him. I used the Old Laws.”

Darius smiled. “That was kind of you,” he observed. “I’m sure Nik adores you very much. He and his child will be safe with you.” When Cameron rose a brow, Darius tried to not snort. “I will do my best to not upset the dichotomy of the house, Cameron. I have a rather pleasant personality.”

“I can see nothing going wrong with that,” Sorin said from the doorway.

Darius flicked Sorin a look. “I’m sure I have no idea what you are referring to, Sorin. I seem to get along rather fine with you.”

Sorin smiled, eyes crinkling. “True enough.”

Darius returned his attention back to Cameron, who was giving Sorin his own irritable look. Though the moment Cameron caught Darius’ eye, his expression returned to neutrality.

“I’m sure you will,” Cameron said, as if Sorin hadn’t spoken a word. “However Nik’s shrunken frontal lobe suggests he will not behave accordingly. So when he eventually does decide to overreact, I suggest you be prepared for it. He’s emotional on a good day and as he is pregnant, he’s even more so.”

“Thank you for the precaution.”

“I thought it would be beneficial.”

Cameron’s pale eyes lingered on him momentarily, flickering in the candle light, before he turned back to Cyrus who was kneeling on the ground near the candles. His eyes seemed rather unfocused. “When can we get this over with?” Cameron asked him. When Cyrus didn’t answer, Cameron moved his attention to Sorin in the doorway. “Focus your witch.”

Cameron rolled his eyes when Sorin hissed at him, but moved to crouch near Cyrus. Cyrus blinked at him, and then fixed his gaze on Cameron. “Pardon?”

“When can we get this over with?” Cameron said, irritably.

He always did detest repeating himself.

“Within the next few days,” Cyrus replied. “I’ve got everything ready. I just need to set it up.”

Cameron pulled out his phone, clearly flicking through his schedule. “I’ll give you the next two days to set up and then I will be here at seven sharp the third day. Be ready by then.”

Cameron slipped his phone into his pocket and disappeared through the door without a glace his way.

Darius bit back his sigh. “I do hope that is alright.”

Cyrus shrugged. “Not that I have much of a choice. But I’ll be fine. Once the spell is done, I’m going to take the longest nap, however.”

“And it will be the most well deserved longest nap,” Darius said, solemnly.

With a tired smile, Cyrus began extinguishing the candles, one by one, coating the room with nighttime once more.

Tagging: @incandescent-creativity @solangelo3088 @lil-miss-red @halstudies @littleyellowdinosaur @caelisis @idreamonpaper

#writeblr #writers on tumblr #wip boost #original writing #hell to pay #ch: cameron #ch: darius #ch: nik

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glitchh3d · 4 years

Text

Halloween Party (Terushima x Reader) [HTF]

So, I didn’t proof read this. My apologies.

Also, it’s not the best because I’m not the best at writing and i’m very tired and sad because my halloween went to crap but y’know. whatever.

Ily guys!! Here you go! 🥰

Word Count: 3.1k

Warnings: Cheating but not really. Language. Talk about sex. Talk about drugs. Alcohol and other college party stuff.

Masterlist

(Y/n), Terushima, Futakuchi, Atsumu and Taichi walked into Kuroo and Bokuto’s house later than expected, but there was a round of cheers for them as soon as they were noticed. Kuroo bounced over excitedly, his drink spilling over the edge of his red solo-cup as he pulled (Y/n) away to lead her toward Matsukawa and Hanamaki who were waiting for her in the backyard with Oikawa and Iwaizumi.

She giggled upon seeing them in their costumes. Hanamaki had darkened his hair somehow so it was red but Matsukawa had left his, instead styling it slightly.

“Oh my god, you two-” She fell into a fit of laughter as they strutted around and showed off their legs that were covered in thin white tights. She pulled them into a tight hug, thanking them for doing the group costume with her. “I love you guys, thank you so much!”

Hanamaki and Matsukawa both laughed and shrugged it off.

“Anything for you, (Y/n). You’re our girl.” Matsukawa said, slinging his arm around her shoulder. Makki wrapped his around her waist and Oikawa flailed his arms around excitedly.

“Let me get pictures!” He shouted, his halo nearly falling off as he jumped excitedly and rushed towards them. Iwaizumi rolled his eyes but smiled at his friends.

(Y/n) giggled at his annoyed look, curious on how Oikawa managed to convince him to do a couple costumes with him. They were an angel and a devil. Iwaizumi looked like he didn’t really care though, only wearing a red tight fitting t-shirt and black skinny jeans with a little devil tail clipped to his belt loop and a devil horn headband on his head.

Oikawa on the other hand, was wearing a pure white robe that had gold accents. His cheeks were dusted with gold and he had a halo headband on. Gold bracelets went up his arms and he had big angel wings on.

“He looks ridiculous, huh?” Iwaizumi asked as he caught (Y/n) eyeing his boyfriend's costume. She smiled and shrugged.

“It’s cute. Yours though, mister. Holy shit. Who gave you the right to be that hot.” She asked, making him blush. Oikawa snapped a couple of pictures of the trio in their costume and then turned to admire Iwaizumi with (Y/n).

“Iwa-chan is hot, isn’t he? But stop ogling my boyfriend! Go ogle your own!” Oikawa said, shoving his cell phone into Iwaizumi’s pocket.

“Hey-”

“Oh shush. You’re my pockets for the night, deal with it.” Oikawa demanded. (Y/n) smiled at them and then saw Terushima, Taichi, and Atsumu walk into the backyard. Terushima smiled at her lovingly before approaching.

His costume, Boomer from the Rowdyruff boys, looked good. They went for more of an e-boy route so he was wearing a black and white striped long sleeve shirt under a blue t-shirt that had the iconic black stripe across the chest. He was also wearing black fishnets under his ripped skinny jeans. He stuck his tongue out and winked at her as he approached.

“Hey baby girl,” He said, pulling her away from Hanamaki and Matsukawa who raised their eyebrows at him.

“Look at this tool,” Matsukawa said as Terushima wrapped his arms around (Y/n)’s waist and rested his chin on her shoulder. He cocked his head to the side and winked at them.

Taichi and Atsumu approached on either side of them. Taichi looked bored, but Atsumu was grinning.

“Wow, lookin’ hot Matsukawa.” He teased. He’d gone with Butch from the Rowdyruff boys but instead of wearing a long sleeve striped shirt, he was wearing a black hoodie under his green t-shirt. And he had dyed his hair back to black just for the night.

(Y/n) had tried suggesting to just use some wash out spray to do his hair but she was a few minutes too late.

Flashback to the night before

(Y/n) walked into her apartment after a busy day at work, Taichi trailing after her tiredly. They had been on the closing shift for the night.

“Teru! Atsumu! Ken? You guys here?” She called into the apartment. She heard a loud crash in the bathroom and hurried towards it, dropping her bag on the floor in her rush. “Holy shit, what happened? Are you oka….y?”

In the bathroom, Atsumu was sitting on the toilet with a towel wrapped around his neck and shoulders. Terushima was holding a bottle of hair dye and Futakuchi was laying in the bathtub, watching.

“Why the hell didn’t you just use the halloween hair dye spray that washes out?” She asked as Taichi peeked in over her shoulder. He groaned and turned and walked away.

“...I didn’t think of that.”

END of flashback

“Fuck, I know.” Matsukawa said back, a grin rising to his face. They fist bumped.

Hanamaki grinned at Taichi who shook his head.

“Don’t.” Taichi said. He was Brick and he absolutely hated it, even though he didn’t wear anything out of ordinary. He was in a red jumper with singular black stripes on the upper arms. He had a lock and chain necklace on and a single dangly cross earring on. He also was wearing a black beanie and he looked cute in (Y/n)’s opinion.

“But Taichi, bro! You look good. We’d make a picture perfect couple, don’t you think?” Hanamaki asked, batting his eyelashes at him.

“I’m going to find Semi.” Taichi disappeared after that. Hanamaki pouted but turned and grinned at (Y/n) again a second later.

“I’m gonna go harass him,” Hanamaki said, making everyone laugh as he sprinted off. Atsumu and Matsukawa followed after him, leaving Iwaizumi, Oikawa, (Y/n) and Terushima alone. Oikawa smiled at Terushima but it was a bit forced.

“You two look good. Don’t they, Iwa-chan?” Iwaizumi stared at the couple then he shrugged.

“(Y/n) looks good. I dunno about Terushima though,” Terushima gasped and pulled away from (Y/n), glaring at the two older men.

“You two are fucking rude.” He said making (Y/n) snort. “I’m going to grab a drink, alright babe? I’ll be back in a few, yeah?” (Y/n) nodded. He kissed her cheek goodbye and then walked towards the glass sliding door that was wide open. (Y/n) smiled after him and then turned back to her friends who were watching her with fond looks.

“What?” She asked defensively. They shrugged.

“You just look really happy is all,” Iwaizumi said, crossing his arms. Oikawa nodded in agreement.

“You do seem happy. I’m glad. You deserve it, (Y/n)-chan!” She smiled at them and pulled them into a hug.

“Aw, you guys…” She said as they both hugged her back. Iwaizumi was the first to squirm away, claiming he also needed a drink. Oikawa and (Y/n) let him go with little pouts but when they curled up on chairs next to the fire pit and chatted to themselves.

“So (Y/n)-chan. You and Teru have been together for a few weeks now, yeah?”

“Yup!”

“And he treats you right?” Oikawa asked, eyes narrowing. She nodded.

“Of course he does. He gets a simp of the year award.” She said with a smile. Oikawa nodded and fist bumped her.

“Iwa-chan does too. He’s very sweet behind closed door,” Oikawa winked and she snorted. “Speaking of behind closed doors. Have you two-”

“No.” She replied quickly making Oikawa freeze with wide eyes. Then he smirked.

“My my, (Y/n)-chan. That was a hard no, wasn’t it?” He asked and she rolled her eyes, pulling her legs to her chest as she stared at the flickering flames of the fire. “Why’s that? You’ve had sex before haven’t you?” She shrugged.

“I- I guess I’m scared?” (Y/n) said, not looking up.

“Why?” Oikawa frowned.

“Because Yuuji has this image, right? He’s popular. Nice. Funny… I’m scared that once he gets all of me then he’ll leave because he’s had better and-”

“Sorry, I’m gonna stop you there.” Oikawa grabbed (Y/n)’s hand and squeezed it gently. “I don’t know Terushima too well, but from what you tell me, he seems like a great guy. One who respects you and cares about you a lot. I don’t think you need to rush to have sex or anything but I don’t think you should be scared to have sex either.”

She nodded and smiled back at him.

“Yeah… You’re right. I just-” (Y/n) was cut off by the back glass door getting slammed open. Iwaizumi was fuming and his hair was dripping with water as he walked towards them. “Oh shit, what happened Iwa?”

“I swear to god I’m going to kill your boyfriend (Y/n).”

“What? Why?” Her heart was racing.

“He fucking- that bastard just almost drowned me in that stupid apple bobbing bullshit!” (Y/n) and Oikawa laughed as Iwaizumi ran his hands through his hair. He flicked droplets of water at them and then sat in the small gap of the chair next to Oikawa before pulling his boyfriend onto his lap.

Oikawa whispered something into Iwaizumi’s ear and the ex ace began to turn red. (Y/n) smiled and looked away from them as they started having their own little private conversation. She didn’t want to intrude so she stood up, saying she was going to grab a drink.

“Hey hey hey! What’s up, (Y/n)!” Bokuto asked as (Y/n) entered the house. She smiled at him and patted his arm as he pulled her into a side hug.

“Hey Bokuto! I like your costume!” He looked down at her confused. “I LIKE YOUR COSTUME!” She shouted over the music. He laughed and nodded. He was a sexy firefighter, wearing only the pants of the costume with suspenders and the helmet.

“I like yours too!” (Y/n) smiled at him and then eyed Akaashi who was standing next to him, wearing a lifeguard costume (aka just a shite t-shirt with a red cross on it and red swim shorts). He had sunscreen smeared on his nose and a cheap flimsy whistle around his neck. He smiled at her as she got done looking him up and down and then also pulled her into a small hug.

“Hello, (Y/n)-san.”

“Hi Akaa-chii! He smiled at the nickname and patted her head before he was dragged away towards a beer pong table by Bokuto who was screaming at Kuroo and Daichi for a re-match.

She chuckled fondly and kept maneuvering her way through the crowd of unfamiliar faces and costumes. She dodged angel and devil wings and even a long dragon tail. She also had to avoid the ass end of a donkey costume that was dancing wildly on the dance floor.

She sighed as she got to the kitchen, reaching into a random cooler to grab a drink. She popped the cap off the bottle and took a long swig, her face contorting in disgust at the taste of whatever she grabbed.

“Hey, (Y/n).” Futakuchi said as he entered the kitchen. She smiled at him.

“Hi Ken,” She smiled at him. “Where are the others?”

“Ah, Terushima is dancing in the living room I think and Taichi and Atsumu are doing keg stands in the game room.” She nodded and thanked him, heading towards the livingroom to try and track down her boyfriend.

Upon entering the living room, she immediately spotted him. There in all his glory he was dancing with their newfound friends. Suga and a bunch of people she’d never seen before were hyping him up, dancing and jumping around with him. He was in his element.

“Do it! Do it! Do it!” A chant started and Terushima laughed along, rolling his eyes. There was a girl with blonde hair standing next to him that grabbed him by the back of the neck, yanking him down and into a kiss.

At first (Y/n) didn’t realize what was going on. And then it clicked.

Terushima had just kissed someone.

Her boyfriend just kissed someone that wasn’t her.

Her boyfriend willingly just kissed someone that wasn’t her, in front of her.

“What the fuck.” (Y/n) said, her hand that was holding her beverage falling limp against her side. Everything felt like it was in slow motion.

Everything aside from Terushima was blurred as he laughed and joked with the girl he’d just kissed. Like he didn’t do anything wrong.

(Y/n) realized that the only reason everything was blurry was because of the tears gathering in her eyes. But if Terushima was going to act like nothing was wrong, then so was she. So she left. She set her bottle down on the counter as she walked towards the door. Kuroo and Semi both tried calling out to her but she ignored them, exiting the house quietly. She wrapped her arms around her bare arms as she walked down the sidewalk and towards the unfamiliar city of Tokyo.

She didn’t know where she was going, but she knew Kait was somewhere within the giant city. She just hoped that Kait had her phone on her.

(Y/n) walked a little further to a little empty park, sitting down on the empty swings. By now all the trick or treaters were gone and the streets were empty aside from a few small groups of teens who were laughing and teasing each other.

“What the fuck,” (Y/n) repeated to herself as the image of her boyfriend kissing another girl replayed in her head. She didn’t want to believe that it was true, but she’d seen it with her own eyes as Terushima pressed his lips to some blonde girls.

She didn’t realize that the tears were falling until they dripped down onto her lap and through her thin dress. She was shaking from the cold but she didn’t care. She only had to wait 15 minutes and then she’d be with Kait and they could figure things out together from there.

Would she break up with Terushima?

Did he not love her?

Was he just using her? Did he get bored that fast? Maybe if she’d done more he wouldn’t feel the need to go off and kiss someone else.

She tried to be enough, she really did.

School and work filled a lot of her schedule but she always tried to make as much time for him as she possibly could.

Why was this happening?

“(Y/n)?” A voice called out. Was that Kait? Had it been 15 minutes already?

(Y/n) looked up as she heard Kait’s voice call out to her.

“Kait?”

“Oh (Y/n),” Kait rushed forward, followed by three other figures. (Y/n)’s lip quivered as she stood up from the swing. As she met Kait halfway the tears she’d been holding back broke free and she let out a choked sob as Kait enveloped her in a hug. “Oh, honey, no…”

_____________

Terushima laughed as he tossed back another shot of something clear. He knew it definitely wasn’t water as it made the back of his throat burn but he was okay with that.

It was halloween night and he was at a party, the point of this entire night was to get drunk and have fun and that’s exactly what he was doing.

“Yo, Suga! You were holding out of us with this guy! You knew he existed and didn’t tell us?” Tanaka laughed as he danced next to Terushima. Noya was jumping around excitedly next to them, screaming the lyrics to whatever song was playing on the speaker.

Tanaka was wearing a blonde wig, an entirely pink outfit, imitating Regina George from Mean Girls. His girlfriend, Kiyoko was Aaron Samuels, wearing a simple blue mens polo shirt and some baggy jeans with her hair pulled back into a low ponytail. Noya was Gretchen Weiners but his brunette wig had ended up falling off when he did a keg stand earlier and he was just too lazy to put it back on. They had convinced their friend Kinnoshita to be Karen Smith but he was currently puking his guts out in the bathroom upstairs accompanied by Ennoshita and Narita who were Cady Heron and Janis Ian.

“Yo I could kiss this man right now,” Terushima said as Tanaka poured him another shot. Noya smirked.

“Do it!” Suga rolled his eyes but nodded in agreement.

“Do it! Do it!”

And soon enough the entire room was cheering for the two to kiss. Tanaka rolled his eyes but reached and grabbed Terushima by the back of his neck, pulling him down into a quick kiss. When they separated, they laughed and fist bumped, taking another shot.

After a few more minutes of dancing, Terushima made his way towards the kitchen where Semi and Kuroo looked concerned.

“What’s going on guys?” He asked as he pulled a beer can from a cooler. He popped the tab and took a sip as they exchanged looks of concern. “Hey, either of you two seen (Y/n)? I left her in the back with Oikawa and Iwaizumi but I haven’t been back there and-”

“Terushima, (Y/n) left.” Semi said, making Terushima freeze.

“What?”

“We both just saw (Y/n) take off out the door a few minutes ago. She looked like she was about to cry,” Kuroo said, making Terushima enter panic mode.

“And neither of you tried to stop her?”

“I- we called out to her. We thought she was just getting some fresh air or something, calm down. I’m sure she’s fine.” Semi said, making Terushima shake his head.

“No, I gotta go find her. She doesn’t know her way around Tokyo. None of us do, what if she gets kidnapped?”

“What’s going on in here?” Matsukawa asked as Terushima slammed his beer can on the counter. He pulled out his phone and started texting (Y/n).

“Did you see (Y/n) leave?”

“(Y/n) left?” Oikawa asked as he and Iwaizumi entered the kitchen. Terushima shook his head as he got no response.

“She’s not answering me. Oikawa, text her.”

“What? What the fuck is going on?” Iwaizumi asked as Oikawa pulled out his phone and began texting their friend.

“(Y/n) took off a few minutes ago and now she’s not answering her phone.”

“Okay so check all the rooms and stuff. And check outside. Try and find her around the house before we go out looking, yeah?” Kuroo said, making everyone in the kitchen nod and split up. Terushima and Semi went out the front door, calling (Y/n), hoping to either get her to answer or to hear her ringtone but there was nothing.

“Fuck!” Terushima shouted. “I lost my fucking girlfriend and she’s probably scared and upset and-”

“Do you think someone drugged her?” Terushima’s head turned at lightning speed and he glared at Semi.

“Why would you even say that?”

“I- what! It happens!”

Well. That happened.

Another post tomorrow <3

Love you guys! I hope you had a Happy Halloween! Goodnight!

Taglist: @kaitycole, @cosmicmermaid25, @sempiternal-amour, @99astrid, @hidden-otaku-stuff, @vicassa, @elianetsantana, @ankl3s, @newfriendjen, @oikawa-simp, @dakotacecily, @axolotleyeliner, @heyyourecute, @tchalameme, @toobsessedsstuff, @marinovakovich, @disaster-rose, @tacosforexo, @sleep3deprived, @prettyinblack231 (Open)

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thetomorrowshow · 4 years

Text

Slower Than Words Ch. 5

1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 10 11 12

I legitimately feel sorry about this chapter! It wasn’t meant to be this intense, just lightly angsty. Virgil really threw himself under the angst bus for this one so buckle up y’all

cw: gagging, unethical eye operations (not in great detail), panic attack, kidnapping, by a cult specifically, character being restrained (both on a table and not), brief mention of blood, fever, intense pain, vomit, that’s a lot of warnings, passing mention of drugs, singular mention of an IV, surgical implications

Everything was decidedly not going to be okay, Virgil realized several days later when he was rudely awoken by rough hands pulling him out of bed and out the door before he could say a word. He opened his mouth to scream and had a rag stuffed in it, which was also rude.

While being dragged down a hallway, Virgil took the moment to reflect on his current mental state, which was scarily calm considering what was happening. Shock, probably. Even more likely was the overwhelming gratitude he was feeling that it was him leaving the safety of the room, not Patton. That gratitude gave way to fear (finally) as he was brought into another room, one with a distinctly medical smell.

The room. Not the room, please, not the place where his eyes burned and he could hear himself screaming but was fairly detached, watching from the side as the men and women in white coats leaned over him and measured his reaction. The place where he was left alone, for weeks, as his eyes slowly healed but never saw again. The place where they had strapped him down, hadn't drugged him even as he struggled and sobbed with pain—

They were doing that now, Virgil realized with a start, and he began to fight, trying to force them away and roll off the table, but they already had his ankles secured.

“Get that out of his mouth, we're not monsters.”

Virgil would have cried at hearing words that didn't come from his own mouth if he weren't already crying. The rag was pulled from between his teeth, and he gasped out incomplete sentences of pleas and desperation.

“Virgil, is it?” a woman said.

“My name, that's my name,” Virgil sobbed, almost incoherently. No one had said it in so long, he almost wanted them to say it again.

“Well Virgil, we're here to help. All we need you to do is lie still.”

Virgil would have promised anything, but he was suddenly aware of the fact that they had finished strapping him down. He didn't have a choice here. He tried to calm his hitching sobs, aware that he definitely looked not only like a fool, but weak.

“Wh-what are you going to do?” he asked pitifully. There were several long moments of silence. Then the same woman before spoke, saying eerily familiar words.

“We're going to fix you, in the name of the Prophets.”

Virgil screamed.

Virgil had been in the back of this van for far too long. His mind was still in overdrive with fear, but now he could wonder—why had he been kidnapped? There was nothing special about him. He was just like any other college kid, trying to make his way in life with money in the negative and relationships even lower. The only person who might care about him was his roommate Roman, but he also had no money and therefore would never be able to pay a ransom. Not to mention, Roman was promising. He was only failing geology, he'd just gotten a role in a production at the high end theater across town, and he had a boyfriend who definitely didn't care about Virgil.

There was nothing he could do to escape whatever awful fate these strangers had for him. They didn't look too dangerous, all four men wearing square-looking jeans and plain t-shirts, but none of them had very built figures. Only one looked like he worked out, which was a testament to the fact that Virgil was a pathetic weakling. He should've splurged and bought that gym membership.

The van stopped for hours at one point, Virgil assumed in a hotel parking lot or something. He would've liked to get out of the cramped space, but it was clear that wasn't happening any time soon. His hands were tied to his ankles (a fact that had sent him into more than one panic attack) and both were pulled behind his back in a hog tie, and a bandana was bundled up in his mouth and tied around the back of his head. He could tell it was night; some of the light from the part of the van with seats filtered in during the day. It was nice to have a little light. Darkness scared him—he always slept with the blinds on the window turned to let some moonlight in, now that he was far too old for a nightlight. Now, however, there was zero light and Virgil was barely keeping himself from freaking out. He just had to survive the night, then nothing would ever be dark again.

They were back on the road. The men chatted loudly, but so many of the words seemed to have a different context for them than they did for him. Haven? Blessings? Liberating? It sounded like a cult, and Virgil once again attempted to free himself of the ropes. The only thing he gained was rope burn.

When the door opened and Virgil blinked at the sudden light and wave of heat, he had to assume they'd arrived. Instead of moving (or shooting) him, two people stared. A man and a woman, the man in a simple suit, the woman in an even simpler dress. Sweat trickled down Virgil's temple as he stared back at them, his jaw aching and limbs strained.

“This one will do,” the woman said eventually. The man nodded agreement, and then the ones that had kidnapped him in the first place were dragging him out of the van. Virgil maintained eye contact with the two as he passed. What did that mean? What did they need him for?

The sun beat down on them as the four men carried Virgil across a dirt road. There were small, one-story houses lining the street, but nobody outside. Virgil only had a moment to wonder why before he was being ushered into a large building. It was cooler inside than out, but still stuffy, like the air conditioning was one of those old window units.

He was carried into a room that smelled like a hospital—and looked like one. The counters were laden with different tools that he had no idea what they were to be used for, but looked vaguely like they belonged in a horror movie. The four men rolled him onto the operating table in the center of the room, then set to work untying him. Virgil lay still, hoping to trick them into thinking he would be compliant. He'd wait until his legs were free, then start fighting back.

That was a no-go, as it turned out. The men easily grabbed his legs and pulled a strap over them, securing him into place. He managed to flail his fist into one person's nose, and felt a deep satisfaction when the man doubled over, bleeding. It was quickly snuffed out as the other three got a hold of his arms and strapped them down as well. Then they all left, even the man Virgil had hit, shutting the door and leaving him alone.

Virgil's eyes darted around the room, taking it all in. The only sound was his heavy breathing. He flexed his fingers and toes a few times, trying to get feeling back into them. He groaned deep in his throat as they began to tingle, then ache. He shifted a little, the sweat pooling under his shirt and hoodie making him supremely uncomfortable.

The door opened with a bang, startling Virgil enough that he jumped. Quite a few—seven, maybe—people in white lab coats entered, the last man wearing plain clothes and looking less like a nerd than the others and more like a bodyguard. Virgil swallowed. What were they going to do to him?

“Hello, Virgil,” an older man with a scar on his chin said, smiling too wide. He leaned over the table, and Virgil tried to lean away. The man tsked, his smile dimming slightly.

“Now, that won't do. Don't be scared, Virgil. We aren't going to hurt you.” The man frowned for a split second, then chuckled. “I'm so sorry, I didn't mean to lie. This will likely be very painful, Virgil.”

Virgil couldn't force his eyes away from the man's, cold brown eyes boring into his soul. He felt the fear rise, bubbling out of his throat in a muffled cry, even as a tear slipped out of his eye and rolled toward his temple.

“We're going to break you, in the name of the Prophets.”

Then they were holding his head still, and—no—no—not his eyes, please, anything else—

Virgil screamed.

Virgil didn't know how long he feverishly drifted, but it was certainly hours. His eyes—it was more than burning, somehow. It was the fire of a thousand suns, concentrated in his eye sockets and pounding through his head. All he could feel was the pain, not knowing where he was or aware of any outside stimulus.

The moment Virgil recognized that it was terrifying was the moment that he could feel his fingers. Suddenly, he was no longer a miasma of pain, but a human being (engulfed by pain) again. That was also when he realized there was something pressed up to his lips. He opened his mouth—water, warm and stale but still water—flooded his dry mouth and and he choked as it hit the back of his throat. The bottle was pulled away, and Virgil spluttered for a few moments before all the water was clear of his airway. Exhausted by the fight and debilitated from the pain, Virgil let his eyes slip closed and drifted again.

When he next woke, it was to incomprehensible pain and the sensation of moving, as if whatever he was laying on was being moved. Barely letting himself wonder where he was headed, Virgil drifted again.

The cycle repeated for a while before Virgil found himself fully conscious. It hurt to turn his head, so he laid still, despite all the noises around him. He was shaking constantly, and he was pretty certain he was strapped down. The room wasn't cold, exactly, but Virgil longed for a blanket, something to perhaps weigh down his legs and ease the quaking.

“Can you hear me?”

Virgil wasn't sure if the person was talking to him or not, so he didn't respond. The other noises around the room—a sink running? A quiet conversation?—continued as if nothing happened.

“Can you hear me?”

This time, the voice was louder, and distantly familiar. Virgil nodded slightly, cut short as he grimaced in pain. Moving his head made the pain spike, inducing nausea. Now he felt he was going to throw up, as well as shiver to death. Great.

“Tell me your name.”

“Virgil,” he rasped. He'd never given these people his last name—how they'd found out his first was a mystery to him—but it didn't quite count as an act of defiance when just saying his first name had sapped all of his energy. He tasted copper in the back of his mouth and wondered vaguely if he'd screamed so much that his throat had bled.

“He's conscious enough. Try to get him to stand up.”

Virgil was trying to figure out how to respond to this when he registered the sound of Velcro tearing, then hands grabbed his arms and pulled him off of the surface. Immediately his headache spiked, and he cried out, barely aware of his knees buckling and hitting the floor.

A sigh was heard. Virgil sniffed back tears, despite the little voice in the back of his head telling him he had literally zero dignity left. He didn't want to cry, especially not at just standing up.

Then suddenly, they were moving. Virgil struggled to get his feet underneath him, but failed and resigned himself to being dragged. He was certain he was about to pass out. His head grew fuzzy, limbs filled with pins and needles. The sound of himself being pulled on the concrete was even louder than anything that had just been going on in the room; it filled his ears and pounded along to his heartbeat.

He distantly heard a laugh, then gasped as someone let go and his head cracked against the floor. It wasn't too bad, he wasn't very far from the floor anyway, but the pain of the impact still caused him to lose the battle against his stomach, vomiting all over himself and the floor. Some commotion followed that; Virgil's head was spinning and splitting and his eyes burned and put simply, he couldn't keep track.

He drifted again, laying on the floor in his own sick, not sure what was real and what wasn't. Too soon, though, he was brought back to the waking world by a jet of water hitting him square in the stomach. He jerked, then spluttered as the water hit his face. Somehow, while shocking, it was more pleasant than the pain, a nice distraction. That didn't last, though. Soon enough, Virgil was shivering and numb as the water kept spraying, a sob tearing from his throat as more and more went up his nose.

Finally it stopped, the only sounds being the water dripping from his soaked clothing and his shuddering sobs. Virgil couldn't stop crying and shaking, and there was only one thought in his head, playing over and over: I want Patton. Please I want Patton. Please Patton please I want Patton please—

After what felt like hours of just laying there, hands grabbed his wrists again and began dragging. Virgil didn't even try to stand, or stop crying. He was so cold. So, so, cold, and he just wanted Patton, just wanted to be safe. . . .

More noise—so loud—and a little more strain on his arms before he was dropped, palms bouncing lightly off the floor. Virgil wanted to curl up on his side, hoard what little body heat he had, but he couldn't move. He couldn't move, and they were coming closer. His sobs ratcheted up as he just knew they were right above him, holding those tools and moving closer and—

Someone touched him, and Virgil whimpered loud. He couldn't—not again—please no, please please please no—

They took his hand and touched his wrist—an IV, they were just putting drugs in him—with warm fingers, tracing something—

Tracing . . . something. . . .

P-a-t-t-o-n.

“Patton,” Virgil croaked. Patton was here. Patton was safe, Patton would make everything all right. With that knowledge, Virgil finally fell into a comfortable sleep.

Taglist (let me know if you want to be added/removed): @enragedbees @gotta-love-alejandra @bunny222 @basiic-emo @patt0n-sanders @rosiepupper @fangirlgeekandfreak @dn-fan21 @that2000skid @remy-the-lemon-berry @itsadastraperaspera @xionbean @sanderssides-angst @hell-yea-we-gay-tonight @maybedefinitely404

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bubmyg · 5 years

Note

can u write something gross soft about being up anywhere really late with namjoon who just wants to keep kissing all over your face cutely and you're just cuddling against him bc you're tired and he's so uwu for you ):

genre/warnings: college!au, college boyfriend namjoon, the fluffiest of fluff, part of my college boyfriend namjoon drabbles

word count: 1,020

a/n: combined with this other request i got “Could you do something with Namjoon bring affectionate with his quiet and more reserved girlfriend, and then him being surprised when she tells him that she loves him for the first time, being the first of the two to say so? It doesn’t have to be a one-shot or anything! it just sounds like a cute little something“

You’d grown accustomed to Namjoon’s apartment as home, no longer worried about tiptoeing around the prospect of showering in a place that wasn’t yours or formulating excuses to get you out of his suggestion to just stay here. Some of your shirts were hung up in a special corner of his closet. You’d accidentally left your umbrella in the kitchen when he’d kissed you onto the counter and shucked your rain boots off so you couldn’t leave. Yoongi complained about never getting to use the couch he bought at least four times a week because you and your textbooks or you and Namjoon or just you occupied it so often.

It was three in the morning and you weren’t in his room but his lips were soft on your cheeks like they had been on the Wednesday of that week before your faithful eight o’clock. It was Friday and Jeongguk had coaxed you to another party and what was Namjoon to deny your lack of invitation, lying that Taehyung had invited him too. He’d followed you around and danced with you and fed you water and kissed the flushed apples of your cheeks raw until your eyelids were drooping like your spine against the closed door of someone’s bedroom in Kappa.

Your fists curled softly into his shirt, arching into his mostly to keep yourself from sliding to the floor in exhaustion. The limited alcohol in your veins did nothing for the exhaustion pulling at your eyelids but Namjoon didn’t seem to care, continuing to kiss along your jaw until you were burrowing into his chest with a soft mewl.

“Want me to take you home?” His forearms locked around your waist, a soft laugh fluttering against the top of your head.

You hesitated and later you’d blame the words out of your mouth on the singular shot Jeongguk made you take when you’d arrived.

“Can we go back to yours?”

Namjoon would blame the light of sun that adorned his face on the fact that you were deeply rooted into his neck and couldn’t see the delight.

“Of course we can, honey.”

Yoongi was more than ecstatic to leave after you found him cornered by a wasted Hoseok blaring some ridiculous song on his phone over the sound of the music in the house. His route didn’t even falter towards campus or your dorm, the sparing glance of your cheek on Namjoon’s shoulder while Namjoon’s thumb and lips alternated over your knuckles enough of an answer as to where you would be staying.

The shrug out of his tight jeans and colored polo was prolonged by his need to scurry back to your figure perched on the edge of his bed, brushing back your hair and kissing your nose that was pointed down toward your phone. The device was brushed aside in favor of Namjoon’s hands in yours, tugging you up to place you in pajamas as well.

“C’mon now,” Gentle amber glittered down at you as he tugged at the hem of your shirt, “Arms up.”

It wasn’t your favorite hoodie neatly pressed to the right of all his interview clothing or the fact that you’d froze all day in the rain after remembering five minutes into a downpour that your umbrella was missing from your backpack or that Yoongi had joked he was going to start making you pay rent that made the apartment that wasn’t yours feel like home. It was—

He’d barely got the garment over your head before you blurted, “—Namjoon, I love you.”

Your shirt fell to the floor in a crumpled heap as he stared at you, chin and eyebrows cocking in one swift movement. Your body registered the chill off his fan, bare in your jeans and bra, but your conscious didn’t, set in the purse of your features as you clenched your fists at your sides.

“I love you,” Firmer, more definite.

Your expression didn’t falter when Namjoon popped the button on your jeans, helping you to shimmy the denim down your thighs before dragging a hoodie over your torso. He tugged you closer by the hem that swished against your thighs, warm palms curling against your cheeks.

“You what now?” His nose brushed yours, dimple barely a ghosted indentation when his lips quirked.

“I-I love you.”

He kissed you, sweet and tender into the seam of your lips. “One more time, I’m not sure I heard you right—”

“Kim Namjoon, I love you,” You said it so loud you were sure Yoongi heard you from the other side of the apartment but the flush that crawled over your skin was because of the blunt admission, not the prospect of someone else hearing. Your voice dropped, a barely there whisper, innocent in inquiry, “Do you love me too?”

“How long do you have to listen about just how much—” He paused to brush his bottom lip against the part of your mouth, “—I love you?”

When you didn’t answer, Namjoon nudged you backward toward his bed, crawling in and tugging you down after him. Languid movements propped him above you, lips again sprinkling kisses down your jaw, “Do you have all night to listen? Hmm?”

You turned toward him, fishing for the collar of his shirt to ground your face that buried into his shoulder. “No,” You mumbled, “I want to sleep.”

“That’s too bad,” He kissed his way up your cheek, “Because you got it out before me and now you have to listen to all the things I was going to say in my cheesy speech declaring my love.”

You pried open one eye, squinting a skeptical eye, “Yeah?”

“Okay, maybe I didn’t have a speech,” Namjoon took your split second reveal to him to lather your cheek in kisses, “but I do have lots of reasons that I love you. Want to hear them?”

“Eh...” You watched him with both eyes now through the spaces in your fingers covering your face, “Maybe in the morning.”

“That’s the wrong answer, love,” You shrieked when his fingers dug into your sides, lips smothering your delighted cries.

“So reason one—”

#kim namjoon #bts #bts reactions #bts scenarios #namjoon scenario #namjoon scenarios #kim namjoon scenario #bts imagine #namjoon imagine #kim namjoon imagine #bts x reader #namjoon x reader #namjoon fluff #not edited #as always #hello #ddaenghoneymain

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etherealwaifgoddess · 5 years

Text

What He Wants (Pt. 14)

Main Characters: Bucky Barnes x Enhanced Reader

Summary: On going series of Bucky getting his shit together and falling in love with you.

Warnings/ Content: none, just domestic fluff

Word Count: 1831

Author’s Note: Hello lovelies! We are firmly into fluff territory now. Like serious, tooth rotting fluff. Ya’ll might want to see a dentist after this ;)

If you missed the first few parts, you can read them here: 1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 10 11 12 13

XOXO -Ash

What He Wants, Pt. 14

In the early morning light you wake to a heavy, hot weight over your waist. You’re overheated but extremely comfortable and it takes you a moment to realize the tickling on the back of your neck is from Bucky’s breath against your hair. At some point during the night you had both shifted to the center of the bed and became entwined. He has his right arm thrown around your waist and he’s lying partly on his stomach and partly around you. His head is pressed against your neck in your hair and you can’t understand how he doesn’t mind laying like that. You had your arms wrapped around his when you woke, and you are reluctant to let him go. You’re afraid to wake him and lose this perfect, warm moment but you know it’s inevitable and he will likely not be thrilled to wake up like this. You shift to roll away but his arm tightens his grasp on you. “Where ya goin’, mouse?” He asks, his Brooklyn accent thick in his semi-conscious state.

You freeze, he is awake and not pulling away. “I have to pee.” You say honestly and pull yourself out from under him.

Your voice and movements wake him up fully and he jolts back. “I’m sorry, God, mouse, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to…”

You shake your head, “It’s okay. Apparently we’re both cuddlers. Who knew?”

Bucky’s eyes widen at your flippant comment and you hurry to the bathroom before you die of embarrassment. You scrub at your face with a cold wash cloth, staring at your reflection for a moment. You had lost your mind, clearly. You pile your hair on top of your head in your standard messy bun and steel your nerves to go back out and face the man in your bed.

Bucky had already gotten up and dressed. When you enter the bedroom he takes off towards the bathroom without a word. He can’t be around you for the time being, you are too soft and too beautiful in the morning light. He had been having the most wonderful dream of dancing with you in a ballroom, both hands wrapped around your waist leading your movements to a slow song. You had worn a red carnation in your hair and smiled at him like he was your whole world. When he had started waking he thought it was part of the dream. He curses himself for his foolishness. He needs to get himself together before he does something stupid and scares you off. The memory of last night and the way you had touched him has him gripping the side of the sink trying to catch his bearings.

It’s been almost 80 years since he wanted a woman the way he wants you. After HYDRA had gotten their claws in him he’d had the singular focus of the Winter Soldier, or was on ice. There was no time for attraction or desire for sex during that time, it was just rage and fear. After Steve had helped him get out, well, he wasn’t exactly boyfriend material anymore. If his scars didn’t scare people off the permanent scowl he wore surely would. He had become a pro at keeping people at a distance and it was a hard habit to break. Bucky thinks about your words in the hospital, what did he want the rest of his life to look like? He has to admit, until he saw Steve come back aged he wasn’t sure they were capable of growing old because of the serum. The damn serum that was forever mixed with his DNA, ruining his insides the same way the HYDRA surgeons had ruined his outside. Risking a glance in the mirror he shakes his head at his reflection. He will just need to keep himself in check better, just like he does with the winter bastard rolling around in his subconscious.

Bucky’s resolve lasts all the way to the kitchen where he finds you dancing around to some upbeat song, still wearing your night shirt which rides up your thighs a little higher every time you shimmy. He leans back against the door jam and coughs lightly so as not to startle you. You are completely unphased by his presence and send him a wide smile across the little pink and white kitchen.

“I’m making French Toast. Your favorite, right?” You ask as you continue your movements, swaying as you coat a piece of bread with the egg mixture. You plop the soaked piece of bread in a sizzling pan and Bucky forgets every harsh reminder he had given himself only minutes before in the bathroom.

“Yeah, mouse, that’s my favorite.” He says roughly, trying to reign himself in. “You didn’t have to-“

You cut him off before he makes excuses you don’t need, “I like it too, so it works out. Can you grab the syrup from that cupboard?” You point to the one and Bucky is quick to respond.

“Yeah, what else can I get for you?” He asks shuffling around the small kitchen the best he can with his crutch.

“Plates are in there” you point, “And silverware is in that drawer” you point again.

“Yes, ma’am.” Bucky replies with no trace of sarcasm.

Bucky has the table set by the time you place the first piece of toast on a platter by the stove. He looks around, wanting to stay busy while you work. “Can I get a pot of coffee started?” He offers.

“Sure, grounds and filters are in there.”

“Thanks. Where’s the salt?”

“The salt?” You look at him incredulously.

“Yeah, to throw in with the grounds.”

“Um, Bucky, don’t take this wrong but salt doesn’t go in coffee grounds.”

“Just you wait and see. My ma taught me this trick. It does somethin’ with the grounds, makes ‘em taste better. Less bitter. Just trust me, okay, mouse?”

You shake your head and wave your hand at him, letting him have his way. You can just make a new batch if it tastes weird. Bucky gets the coffee machine going and hops up on your kitchen countertop, sitting happily next to your work area. You’re surprised it holds the super soldier, but it seems stable. He swings his legs a little, happily watching you work. His cheerfulness is unnerving and you feel the creeping of a blush starting in your chest and working its way up your cheeks. You wish Bucky could be like this all the time, but you know he can’t ignore his issues forever and you need to make the most of these carefree moments when they happen.

Having him so close while you cook is comforting and you place a hand on his thigh before you realize what you’re doing. Bucky’s eyes widen and his lips part in surprise. You pull your hand away as if you had placed it on the stove instead of him, wrapping your arms around yourself. “I-I-I’m so sorry.” You stutter, wishing the floor would open up into a void that you could fling yourself into.

Bucky ambles down from the countertop to go check on the coffee which is doing just fine on its own. He also needs to readjust things. Bucky feels like a teenager again, unable to control his body’s responses to a pretty girl. It’s difficult for him to hide his reaction behind his fitted black jeans but he does his best to think of every disgusting thing he can to wipe any remaining lust from his system.

You almost burn the next piece of toast, turning it just in time before it goes from just really dark to charred. You can’t shake the feel of Bucky’s thigh beneath your hand from your mind. It was so wide, thickly muscled, and powerful. You force your wayward mind to stop conjuring up imaginings of those thighs against other parts of your body, trying to get a grip on yourself. You cool off while making the last few pieces and then join Bucky at the table with the giant pile of French Toast. He’s sipping his coffee with a satisfied smile, clearly ready to gloat.

“Just like my ma used to make it.” He says with a flourish as he hands you the cup.

You roll your eyes but accept the offered cup, taking a sip of the salted coffee. To your surprise there isn’t even a hint of salt in the brew. It’s strong and rich, definitely better than when you normally make it, and you want to smack the smug look off Bucky’s face. “Damnit.” You grumble as you take another long sip.

Bucky laughs and it’s a harsh, almost dorky sound, seeming to have burst out before he could control it. You try not to snort your coffee through your nose and hold back the laughter bubbling up in your throat. Bucky’s cheeks tinged red, embarrassed at his outburst.

“Thank you, Bucky.” You concede, raising your cup to him.

“You’re very welcome, mouse. Thanks for cooking again.” He takes four pieces of toast and starts dousing them with syrup. You try not to make a face, still unable to believe the way he eats. You pick two pieces off the plate for yourself, giving them a slight drizzle of syrup and then dig in. The coffee is good enough to go back for seconds and you catch Bucky’s pleased grin out of the corner of your eye. He polishes off eight pieces before pushing himself back from the table with a sigh. “A man can get used to this.” He teases.

“Oh really? Well, as soon as man is feeling better he can get used to doing dishes too.” You sass back.

“Oh come on, mouse. You know I’m gonna help you once I’m back on both feet. I’m gonna cook for you, I’ll do the dishes, take care of the laundry, whatever you need. Just gimme another day to rest up.”

“I know you’re good for it, no worries.” You get up to take care of the dishes, trying to keep your mind busy before it goes to all the other places you would like Bucky’s help.

Bucky places his hand over your wrist, stilling your movement, “Seriously, mouse. I can’t repay you for taking me in like this. I know I’m a pain in the ass, and I’m gonna triple your grocery bill, but I really appreciate it.” The genuine gratefulness in his eyes stops you in your tracks even more than the contact of his hand on your wrist. Your brain struggles to come up with an appropriate response but all you come up with is “Any time.” It’s trite and you hate the sound of your voice. You force yourself to break the contact before you do something stupid like pull him against your chest and kiss him senseless. It’s barely 9am and you already know it’s going to be a long day.

Tag List Lovelies: @my-current-fandom-is @blacklightguidesnic @amazonianbeauty @ladyemofhousestark @abswritesfandoms

#bucky barnes #bucky x you #bucky x reader #bucky barnes fanfic #bucky barnes x reader #marvel #marvel fanfic #marvel fandom #marvel fangirl #marvel avengers #post endgame #post avengers endgame #winter soldier #what he wants #series #part fourteen

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racefortheironthrone · 5 years

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Thoughts on Powers of X #4

Into the home stretch:

Good Times At Bar Sinister:

In retrospect, this may be the weakest issue of HoX/PoX and the closest that the miniseries come to a filler issue. Partly that’s to do with its role in the overall story: this is a denoument issue after the fireworks of the last two issues, and it’s also there to make sure that House of #5′s big reveal/undoing of the climax wasn’t literally the next week’s issue. On the other hand, it’s also probably the funniest issue in the miniseries, so I’d still call it a pretty good comic.

In this first segment, Magneto and Charles track down Mister Sinister on his ominous red crystal island, which continues the motif of ominous towers. When this is happening isn’t clear. We’re still in X^0, but Charles’ flying chair makes its first (only?) appearance suggests that it’s been a while. I really hope Powers of X #6 gives us a better Life 10 timeline, because some of these ordering questions are confusing.

The Guard Sinister sets the tone right off the bat - as we might expect from someone whose morality was shaped by Victorian England, Sinister is perfectly comfortable with being the “yes we have much” and telling the have nots to go away; but at the same time, being very into Aesthetics (note the first of many punctation for emphasis) and style, so that we’re not so much dealing with a guard as a club bouncer grading their outfits.

The clash with Xavier’s grey businessman’s suit and politesse and the vibe at Bar Sinister is immediately apparent, although Magneto’s similarly aggressive Aesthetic is clearly close enough to get them into the club even if Magneto wasn’t up for hurling Sinisters into rocks for being rude to his boyfriend who he kind of crippled although not in the 616 Charles.

Inside the club, the vibe is a weird blend of Edwardian-by-way-of-Lewis-Carroll and the fantasy medievalism of Melniboné. As we are introduced to Sinister the Capeless, I have to say that I find the version of Mister Sinister we get here really interesting, because what’s happening is a shift from glam to camp that’s been there from Kieron Gillen’s run and which has cropped up in Hickman’s earlier work. None of the Aesthetics have changed at all, it’s just that we’ve subtracted the self-seriousness that was sometimes there with the OG Sinister and added a sense of knowing humor to the whole affair. Doesn’t make it any less terrifying when Sinister the Capeless turns on a dime from “I. Love. That. Cape” to Red Queen murderousness - clearly we’re dealing with someone who is both highly powerful, highly intelligent, but also totally nonsensical.

Incidentally, as lines that would work great as t-shirt slogans go, “I can’t be shamed into changing who I am” has got to be up there. Also, very thematically appropriate for HoX/PoX as a whole.

At long last, Xavier and Magneto finally get to the reason why they’ve come to the Bar Sinister: they want Mister Sinister to build “a comprehensive database of mutant DNA” that is “safe. secure.redundant.” More than anything else, this feels like the (necessary?) evil of the founding of Krakoa. Other villainous mutants can be dealt with on the basis of ideology or self-interest or just dealt with, as we saw in House of X #6, but Mister Sinister is really the only one who has made himself indispensable to the broader mission.

However, this is all being done with the foreknowledge that Mister Sinister betrayed the mutant cause in Moira’s most recent life, so I don’t think this is being done out of typical Xavierian hubris.

The reaction is rather surprising: Capeless Sinister refuses out of aesthetic objections to the inclusion of “that aberrant gene” in his collection, which is not consistent with his previous characterization (although given the “they’re all crazy clones” thing, there’s an explanation right there), but is in keeping with Victorian eugenics. (I like Magneto’s very carefully worded lie about the future.)

And then finally we get the Mister Sinister we all know and love, complete with ribbon cape and everything, but him showing up blowing off another Sinister’s head with a handgun is weirdly jarring, like a sudden intrusion from some violent cartoon universe. On the other hand, “my mutant power is overthrowing tyrants and being absolutely fabulous” feels way more like the Sinister we know, and suggests that the hatchet is not buried with Apocalypse)

I like that Magneto is kind of into all of this, because for all that he can be Serious Business sometimes, he’s also someone who’s deeply into his own Aesthetic of overthrowing governments while being fashion-forward.

So here’s the thing about Xavier mind-controlling Sinister into forgetting why he’s doing all of this: I don’t think this is the whole of the plan to deal with Sinister’s sudden but inevitable betrayal. I think part of the point is to maintain quality control over the database, given the whole business with the deliberately-engineered quality control failures in LIfe 9. But I feel like Moira would insist on more redundancy than just relying on one psychic whammy sticking.

Red Diamond Blind Items Infographic:

Speaking of comedy...this definitely is the funniest infographic we’ve gotten throughout the series. A bunch of these went way over my head, lots of them ended up as dropped plot threads which we’ll have to wait for Dawn of X to see if they get followed up on, but they were all entertaining.

Sinister Secret #1: this one is kind of vague, and I’m 99% certain it’s just a gossip columnist being catty about shoes. Incidentally, Louis XIV loved red heels so much that he decreed no one other than him could wear them.

Sinister Secret #2: in addition to being a clue about the Resurrection Machine bringing back all kinds of dead mutants, I like how this one continues one of the best elements of Grant Morrison’s run - the idea that mutants start developing a distinct culture - but now with a twist that it’s going to be happening even more that Krakoa is giving that culture a safe space to flourish.

Sinister Secret #3: Especially what with all the hints about Inferno throughout HoX/PoX, this is definitely about Madelyn Pryor. Dunno what she left behind, but it could well be some sort of resurrection failsafe.

Sinister Secret #4: no idea what this refers to.

Revealed! Of all the X-genes out there for Sinister to use, why John Proudstar? It doesn’t fit with the powers he’s displayed in previous runs, and the only thing I could think of is that Proudstar is the first of the All-New X-Men to die (making it easier to get samples).

Sinister Secret #5: especially in the wake of House of X #6, this suggests that Scott and Jean are in a poly relationship/open marriage of some sort with Logan and/or Emma, and that the new mutant culture is developing its own values on sexuality and family structure, what with the First Law.

Sinister Secret #6: the HoXPoxToX on this issue gives the relevant citation, but I didn’t read the book so I don’t know which of the samples Ernst stole were supposedly destroyed.

Sinister Secret #7: this is a pretty clear reference to the whole messy continuity business about there being a third Summers brother, but also a nice hint that Sinister is completely full of shit and so these blind items have to be taken with a whole salt lick. (Incidentally, we’ve seen Vulkan showing up in promotional materials for Dawn of X, so that’s probably the Summers in question, which means we can finally stop talking about dumb theories about it being random male X-Men).

Sinister Secret #8: again with the pretender talk, but the real clue here is that Apocalypse’s major motivation is getting his original Horsemen back, which is significant for the next section.

Sinister Secret #9: especially with the reveal that Synch has been resurrected, this is pretty clearly referring to him and Jubilee, who are now at very different places in their lives post-resurrection.

Revealed! As I’ve talked about before, Inferno is a running theme in HoX/PoX, and to be honest, if the new status quo of X-Men is going to involve any nostalgia riffs, it’s a good choice because it hasn’t been over-done as much as Days of Future Past, and ties in well with issues of clones, demons, and Sinister.

Sinister Secret #10: as I suggested above, the fact that Xavier saw all kinds of Sinisters running around suggests that he wasn’t relying on that tactic alone to safeguard his mutant future.

Linguistic Anthropology with Doug Ramsey:

So let’s talk about pith helmets - on the one hand, this is a callback to Cassandra Nova, but it’s an inversion: where Nova donned the helmet to show a Trask the instrument of mutant genocide, Xavier is wearing it to show a mutant a crucial part of the plan to reverse the Genoshan genocide. On the other, it’s a deliberately colonialist fashion statement: namely, that as with earlier attempts at establishing a mutant nation - San Marco, Genosha, Utopia, etc. - the mutant homeland is not unoccupied land and mutants are thus not entirely innocent of this particular sin of nation-states, whatever Magneto might say. Not the first and last time that nationalist projects have made this mistake.

Charles talks a good game about moving from adversary to ally with the land, but as we’ll see in just a bit he doesn’t understand Krakoa as much as he thinks he does, which undercuts his good intentions.

Doug introduces the techno-organic virus to Krakoa,which is significant both for the whole issue of biological vs. mechanical transhumanism and singularity, the potential threat from the Phalanx in X^3, but also is a sign that introducing new species to a habitat (something that’s happened quite often in the history of settler colonialism) is an easy overlooked problem.

I love the idea that the difference between telepathy and hyperlingualism is the difference between pidgin and anthropological thick description. Xavier might be able to hear anyone’s thoughts, but that doesn’t necessarily means that he understands said thoughts.

By contrast, Doug’s greater understanding means that he learns Krakoa’s origin myth, and is thematically appropriate for this series it’s a story of unity and division. The linkage between demonic incursions and Arakko/No-Place suggests Inferno, even as the Twilight Sword points to Surtur and Walt Simonson’s run on Thor. The key thing here, however, is that Apocalypse is portrayed as a tragic hero, sacrificing his original horsemen to seal away the demonic invasion and dividing the land - as Apocalypse wants to bring the OG Horsemen back more than anything, this would suggest that seal will be rebroken, causing a lot of chaos, but ultimately leading to the reunion of a sundered land.

As a reward for his insight, Doug is one of the few people who learn the whole plan, which places his “hopey-changey” comments from the very first issue in a different light.

Current Krakoan Systems Infographic:

I’m going to be brief here, because we already saw these systems in action last issue.

Here, the first thing I want to emphasize is how crucial Doug is to the founding of Krakoa - every single other system relies on his interface system. At the same time, we also learn that Forge is running the Krakoan skunkworks system which creates the biomachinery that all of Krakoa will run on as well. In other words, one founder creates the software and one founder creates the hardware. It’s yet another example of the Krakoan emphasis on accomplishing greater things through cooperation and creativity (and how very much this is a story about nationalism and not cults of personality).

We Hope for Ascension:

I gotta say, I’m with a lot of other people who don’t get why this particular X^3 plot was chosen. It’s harder to grasp and the characters don’t have anywhere as near as much to connect with as X^2. That being said, I have some guesses, which will probably all be proven wrong tomorrow!

As I discussed the last time we saw the post-humans, the difference between conversion and ascension are much less clear than they first appeared...unless (unless...) we’re talking about the whole issue of the philosophy of identity. As the Elder points out, if your culture already has the idea of a self and a seer-self who’s already uploaded into a machine, are you really dying if your body dies? As I’ll get into way more in House of X #5, the argument that the post-resurrection mutants are clones and not the “real McCoys” rests on a particularly strong case of continuity of consciousness that I don’t think holds up to scrutiny.

At the same time, I do think we see here some signs of cultural weakness among the post-humans: they can’t tolerate the idea of being just short of the next step of consciousness/intelligence and are willing to do anything to achieve the goal of achieving the next schematic stage in machine consciousness development, because “isn’t that what’s next.” Except the problem is that it’s a rigged game - there’s always another level, always another Phalanx using you as a Technarch patsy, and it’s not clear from the outset whether these higher stages are all they’re cracked up to be.

Incidentally, I totally misinterpreted what happened here. Initially, I thought that the “seer-self”/recognition sequence thing suggested a way around losing “ sovereignty “ by introducing a memetic virus, given the way that the Phalanx undergo a sudden physical transformation. This doesn’t seem to be the case based on Powers of X #5.

How are the Phalanx not an empire? All they do is expand, consume resources, and either wipe out or “elevate” other cultures on the basis of their own ideas of cultural worthiness. That is the very definition of imperialism!

And here we see the bedrock incompatibility of biological and mechanical transhumanism/singularity.

#xmen #xmen meta #powers of x #hoxpox

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hobimysun-shine · 5 years

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bts as billie eilish songs

I love both artist so much because they are so diverse, so driven and in love with their art, so here’s what my mind created at 2am when i actually gotta study for an exam, but anyhow, enjoy

Jeon Jungkook - Ocean eyes

“Can't stop thinking of your diamond mind Careful creature Made friends with time”

- color scheme: Venice lavender; purple rain; valor blue

- grey clouds, quiet ocean, salty air, cold sand, bare feet, long sweater, careful wind, watery eyes,

- angelic, naive, trusting, incapable of stopping emotions

- a feel of uncertainty for the future, because you still have so much to experience in life, it’s hard to know who to trust, where to go and what your tears mean, who you should give them to

- young love, pain

- it basically speaks of someone who is impressed by another human - love based on instinct and intuition, when you’re young you just feel things, even if you don’t know where these emotions come from (jungkook-namjoon relationship) ;

- trusting someone by the feeling you get around them, without being able to trust your common sense,

- have you seen jungkook’s beautiful, ocean, doe eyes ?? (if not, then wth you doin’ with your life))

Park Jimin - idontwannabeyouanymore

“I just wish you could feel what you say Show, never tell But I know you too well Got a mood that you wish you could sell

Tell the mirror what you know she's heard before I don't wanna be you anymore”

- color scheme: pale smoke; scotch mist; apple blossom

- cold air, morning dew, raindrops at the bottom of your window, the fabric softener your mom uses to wash your sheets, soft breathing on the side of your neck, white mirrors

- self-persuasion, self-critique, inner conflict, serenity, content, libra’s aesthetic approach

- if you have listened to lie and looked at the lyrics, you know why i chose this song for jimin

- you basically get the feeling that the person is speaking to himself in this song, trying to find an answer, as to why he puts himself through all these hardships, when he could break free from this vacuum of perfectionism he created for himself

- let’s be real, we all know what jimin had to go through and maybe is still going through with being too harsh on himself, with his body image and his appearance on stage, i hope he is doing well now and is content with himself, cause he is a 100/10 and we all love him so much

Kim Taehyung - hostage; my boy

“I wanna be alone Alone with you - does that make sense? I wanna steal your soul”

“ My boy's an ugly crier but he's such a pretty liar”

- color scheme: concord purple; red wine; aurum gold

- big windows, night sky, city view, studio apartment, dark walls, smell of acrylic paint, ripped jeans with that paint splattered on them, acoustic guitars on the walls, quiet jazz music, film paper smoke, deep laughter, strong arms around your waist

- artistic freedom, no fear of judgement, mutual understanding, chest butterflies, assurance, hope, soulmates, in tune with your emotions, who cares if the world doesn’t get us, we get us

- hostage just reminds me of two people, who connect on a soul level so much, that what happens is their love turns into mutual engagement, similar to keeping each other as hostages in their hearts, however i wanted to turn the meaning of that song less toxic for taehyung,,

- i believe that if there’s a member that would want to connect with people in such level as the song suggests, it would be taehyung

- as for my boy, idk it just gives me a similar base line as in singularity, and i don’t know it’s just probably my fave song of billie and i feel like it is just taehyung’s vibe when i listen to it

Jung Hoseok - bellyache

“ Everything I do the way I wear my noose Like a necklace I wanna make 'em scared like I could be anywhere Like I'm wreck-less

I lost my mind I don't mind “

- color scheme: marigold yellow; apricot orange; candy red

- summer heat, tan skin, blushed cheeks, endless roads, loose shirts, scratched knees, rich kids away from home, one backpack and a shiny red ford convertible from your bf’s dad’s garage, loud music, lips, swollen from kissing, night fireworks

- fed up with everything, escape from reality, that one summer you will never forget, vibrant love, point of no return, rhythm, gut intuition, boldness

- i don’t know exactly either, it’s just these are the connections i make when i hear this song, and all of that screams hobi to me (aries moon)

- also am i the only one who imagines he would make a killer dance routine to that song (but again he could probably dance to a water drops going down a pipe, so,,)

Namjoon - bury a friend; copycat

“What do you want from me? Why don't you run from me? What are you wondering? What do you know? Why aren't you scared of me? Why do you care for me? When we all fall asleep, where do we go? “

“ Perfect murder, take your aim I don't belong to anyone, but everybody knows my name”

- color scheme: pearl river; silver fox, steel wood

- empty stage, burning projectors slowly being turned off, microphone heavy in your hand, as the words that went though it start to make sense, sweaty hair, footsteps echoing in the vast space, feeling of falling down, unexpected, but comforting hug, security, the calming scent of someone you know in this new environment, tears of fear and excitement at the same time, new life, new beginning

- words said out loud, revenge, mixed feeling of content and fast approaching emptiness, always racing thoughts, insomnia, trying to fill a void, searching for an overall meaning,

- so bury a friend is just has all these questions man. they remind me of rm’s mind. i feel like all of them are things he had already asked himself, or themes he implies in his songs too

- copycat is for namjoon swiftly leading a group that got a ton of criticism in the beginning and is still getting hate, but regardless he manages to stay on top, write what he feels, be a real artist and throw everything people said about bts failing back at their faces

Min Yoongi - lovely ; you should see me in a crown

“Oh, I hope some day I'll make it out of here Even if it takes all night or a hundred years Need a place to hide, but I can't find one near Wanna feel alive, outside I can't fight my fear”

“ You should see me in a crown I'm gonna run this nothing town Watch me make 'em bow One by one by, one”

- color scheme: marble white; smoke ember; royal silver;

- dark room, cold hands, shaky breath, unable to look at each other’s eyes, fear of the outside and the inside, pocket money, long fingers pressing the out-of-tune piano keys, weary smiles, small steps

(....)

steady hands, marble walls, scent of freshly printed documents, looking through a box of old photo albums your mom sent, turning the pages a larger hand stops you from flipping the next page, two teenagers than look awfully like you two are staring back fearfully, low chuckles, eyes full of love

- strong minds, growth, stability, strength, control, prosperity, hard work, passion, ambition

- lovely is in here because i feel like it portrays struggles with mental health and depression very well. you feel trapped and you feel like there is no one else who understands your personal hell and you are the only one who has to find a way for yourself to get out of that place. yoongi has been in such places before as we’ve heard from him and his lyrics, so i though lovely represents his struggles when he was younger

- you should see me in a crown. literally that’s all i can say, he worked for his success and he got it and he deserves it and he is killing it right now

- yall don’t know the amount of respect i got for this man and everything he has been through and i feel like these two songs portray his lowest and his highest in life and take account every struggle along the way and how he truly deserves everything he has right now

Kim Seokjin - when the party’s over

“ Don't you know I'm no good for you I've learned to lose you, can't afford to

Don't you know too much already I'll only hurt you if you let me

Quiet when I'm coming home and I'm on my own I could lie, say I like it like that, like it like that”

- color scheme: night snow, onyx black, muddy grey

- smell of liquor, messy steps, blurred vision, flood of thoughts, the darkest time of the night, dried streams of tears on your cheeks, your boyfriend’s hand quietly holding yours, but them you have to split ways, walking alone on the dead street, cold wind air hitting your face, but you find comfort in it, you reach home, but you can’t seem to go in; so you sit on the sidewalk, looking down; you hear distant steps; he sits down in the snow next to you; the sky slowly, but surely becomes lighter

- quiet sadness, deeper understanding of the world, human relationships seem harder, yet simpler, timeless feeling, a sense of maturity

- this song is just a masterpiece. hear me out, i don’t think i would understand this song as well as i do now, if i have listened to it a few years back. I would have been like “oh yeah it’s sad”

-But like. no. It’s not just sad. It’s a song that shows so much maturity and experience with life that first of all, idk how billie is so young and is able to create music like that. Second of all i don’t think anyone else of bts would fit better to it, than jin

- people tend to overlook his deeper emotions because he tends to distract from them, he always acts “silly” and tells jokes, but i feel like in songs like epiphany and awake we can see that jin really sees the world and his abilities from a much more mature point of view than other members. And i get the same vibe from billie’s song, so i feel like it would fit best for jin.

So actually this was way longer than i planned, but yeah, this is just strictly my opinion and it was just an idea i had at 3am now, as i said, hope it’s fun to read :))

im off to bed, because i’m so sleep deprived i will start hearing colors soon

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things-we-used-tc-share · 6 years

Text

Sounds

((Yes I know, I forgot to update yesterday, I’m still alive just...busy, anyway here’s another fic))

Virgil doesn’t like talking, he can talk sometimes, it’s not his voice that’s damaged, it’s just...fear. Luckily Patton is always there to interpret, especially when someone else comes wandering into Virgil’s life over a hot cup of coffee (Or Virgil has selective mutism because of his Anxiety, Human!AU Platonic!Moxiety Romantic!Logicality Romantic!Prinxiety)

“Virgil!” The tall, thin man was engulfed in a hug before he’d even registered his name being called; he tenses for a fraction of second before registering Patton’s voice and smell into his head and bringing his arms up around the shorter’s midsection. The elder man steps back, grinning widely at his best friend who gave a weak smile in return.

Patton was an interesting man to say the least, average height with a soft tub around his midsection that really demonstrated his love for baking (And eating half of the ingredients before they had reached the oven, followed by Virgil flapping his arms around in exasperation), he had soft pastel blue hair that fell into gentle brown eyes and a constant expression of joy written across his face.

Virgil was nearly an opposite of the other and perhaps the fact that the two even each other out is how they manage to be best friends. Virgil was an anxious boy, with dark purple hair that almost covered his darkened eyes, he was an overthinker, someone who analyzed each and every possible outcome and avenue to a situation like it was his birthright. Patton was, however, an emotional person, he understood that Virgil was too, his emotions were generally negative but to Patton that was just like having a balance at the end of the scale.

Now the two of them had been best friends for over two years, although it felt like infinity. In that time Patton had learned about Virgil’s anxiety and how it caused his throat to sometimes close up like talking was just too scary or too much energy for him to perform. The elder had taken this into account and started to learn sign language so that the two could communicate in times that they didn’t have a pen or pencil available.

They found it was easier to communicate like this even when Virgil did speak, it was relaxing, easy, and sometimes the elder man would accidentally do it out of habit to communicate with others.

‘What are you up to today?’ he signed. The two of them were walking through a large park, consisting mostly of trees and two small play areas. The park was huge, so huge it could’ve been a nature reserve with its small lake housing families of ducks that paddled by them as they took their seat on a wooden bench framed by a weeping willow older than the two of them combined.

Virgil shrugged in response, shaking his hair out of his eyes so he could see Patton properly without a magenta curtain blocking his view. ‘What about you?’ he signs back, leaning against the creaking wooden bench with a small smile. The cerulean haired boy simply shrugs and watches the ducks go by. ‘Are you seeing Logan today?’

Logan was Patton’s boyfriend, a highly analytical man with dark brown eyes and ruffled brown hair who would often sit in their company just to study. He said he likes that they’re quiet, he can understand silence better than lots of load noise; something he probably doesn’t get with Patton alone considering how hyperactive the other tended to be. ‘Maybe’ is the response he gets followed by a thoughtful gesture ‘I could ask him?’ The two of them-Logan and Patton- are the only couple Virgil can remotely stand being around. Logan works or reads, and Patton draws or plays soft music whilst Virgil can simply enjoy being around the two.

‘Sure, can we get a drink first though?’ Patton texts Logan to ask him if he wants to meet at the cafe before the two of them embark on their journey.

The cafe is a quaint little thing. The walls are painted in shades of blue, making the inside look and feel like the ocean, whilst the dimly lit room ran off of fairy lights and singular bulbs that hung from the ceiling. Upon entering, it smelt like warm bread, cake, and coffee, all three of the two’s favorite things. Art hung off the walls and flowers hung from baskets by the windows, causing Virgil to give a small smile.

They sit by their usual seat by the window, four chairs and a coffee table pushed into the wall that separates them and a small garden outside. Virgil picks up the menu like he doesn’t already know what he’s going to order, Patton doesn’t remotely try to pretend like he hasn’t been here every day for the past week and instead pulls out his phone and waits for someone to come over.

“What can I get you guys?” Virgil doesn’t recognize this voice, he lowers the menu to see who the newcomer is and swallows audibly in response. The man is looking directly at him, a wide smile covering his face making Virgil feel as though he were in a Disney film.

The light from the window reflects on the other’s face like he is being illuminated by nature herself; soft brown curls fall directly into light hazel eyes and his smile ends with two dimples in his cheeks. The white of his shirt seems bright in the sudden sunshine that had broken through the cracks of the clouds, with dark red skinny jeans completing his outfit. Virgil cannot talk, now more than ever his throat closes up and he opens his mouth but not a single sound can escape under the weight of his anxiety.

“I’ll have a caramel mocha with cream, a slice of carrot cake, and a black coffee no sugar and Vegetarian sausage barm with gherkin and lettuce for him, and a white coffee with no sugar for my friend who's on his way,” Patton smiles as if he’d barely noticed whilst the newcomer scribbles down this order, giving a smile back. His gaze flickers to Virgil once more who is trying to get his hoodie to swallow him up, or the ground or whatever’s remotely available really. With another smile, the prince-like figure turns and walks away.

Virgil looks at Patton with what he assumes is shock written all over his face, eyes wider with the ring of eyeshadow around them, lips parted with no intention to speak, but more because he doesn’t feel he has genuine control over his facial expressions. ‘Who was that?’ he signed as if the elder would somehow know more.

‘Not a clue’ Logan appears through the door, satchel banging against his leg and book tucked under his arm as he takes the seat next to Patton. He signs a hello to Virgil before taking in the grinning Patton and shocked expression on Virgil’s face.

“What did I miss?” He mutters, eyebrows furrowed but is only met with Patton giggling and the younger boy shaking his head.

“Virgil has a crush,” Patton says in a sing-song voice, swaying slightly as he stretches out the ‘sh’ at the end of his sentence. Virgil hushes him with an irritated expression. “You should’ve seen him Logan he was all eyes with his mouth all hanging open, he’s in love!” The gleeful expression on Patton’s face comes to a halt as Logan breaks into reality.

“How could he be all eyes and still have a mouth, in fact, how is it biologically possible to be all eyes?” The thought process is interrupted as the handsome server returns, balancing three drinks on one tray in a seemingly effortless fashion, placing them down with a flourish and a smile.

“Anything else I can get for you? You seem to have grown an extra person,” The logical one goes to interject to talk about how it would be impossible to grow and extra person, but is instead interrupted by Virgil’s expression, of which consisted of wide eyes and an adoring expression. The waiter smiles at Virgil, who gives a somewhat weak smile back “What’s your favourite cake on the menu?” He asks, causing the other to feel his heart rate quicken and his throat to tighten up again. With shaky hands, he signs his answer.

“Bakewell,” Patton translates, expecting a long ramble from the curly haired man about mutism and other long self-affirmation rants to make him feel good about himself, like everyone else that they had encountered (Except Logan, Logan instead went on about how fascinating selective mutism was and cracked open a huge textbook with an entire chapter dedicated to anxiety disorders and mutism).

“Oh god me too, it’s to die for, anyway I’m gonna put that down, my treat,” He winks at Virgil and then he’s gone again.

By the end of their food, they hadn’t seen the waiter again, someone had come straight from the kitchen to hand them their food and respective cakes and Virgil felt a frown cross his lips. Noticing the downcast expression, Patton offered a small smile, with his hand lying directly on top of Logan’s. “It’s okay kiddo,” He says gently, but after that, he’s not sure what else he can say to ease the other’s sadness. They continue to eat in silence as Logan sipped his coffee, only the clank of metal on ceramic filling up their silence behind the chatter of the cafe.

After they’ve finished, they stills it in silence, Virgil’s eyes darting around to see if he can find the other. Patton stands up to go and pay for the food, leaving behind the two to sit awkwardly. Logan doesn’t speak, but registers that his friend is uncomfortable, something the blue-haired man would usually take control of. “Virgil, can’t help but notice you seem distracted, restless, somewhat unnerved, are you...okay?” Virgil finally drags his eyes away from his surroundings to meet Logan’s eyes, giving a small smile, he nods.

He watches his friend pay for the bill, heartbeat raising as he sees who is serving him, the two seem to be talking, exchanging smiles. Virgil feels a pang in his chest as he wished this simple exchange was something he could do so freely. He looks away as they both look over in his direction and doesn’t look up again until Patton is approaching the table. The receipt falls into his lap, confused he looks up to see the other smiling at him, nodding at the receipt.

Virgil picks it up, examines it and turns it over. Slowly a small smile cross his face as he notices something scribbled at the bottom. A phone number, followed by some words.

‘Have a nice day, text if you want, cutie,-Roman’

Virgil doesn’t stop grinning all the way home.

Taglist:

@unikornavenger

@mycatshuman

@spectralheartt

@creativity-killed-thekitten

@charmingprincey

@theresneverenoughfandoms

@punsterterry

@aclickonapostwillchangeyourlife

#sanders sides #prinxiety

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mitchsmarners · 5 years

Photo

BLOOD IN THE WATER

summary: “I think we’re all going to have do some pretty terrible things,” Eddie said quietly. His hand came to wrap in Richie’s shirt, trying to burn out the violent grip of his father’s from earlier. “None of us have a choice in anything anymore. Whatever happened at Greta’s tonight-“ Eddie’s voice broke and he felt Richie press a kiss into his hair. “There isn’t a good and a bad anymore. There’s just die or don’t.”

[or: after the gruesome murder of his younger brother, Bill Denbrough is determined to bring about the end of the string of crimes in Derry no matter the cost. As stories unwind and fall apart, there’s only more questions as everybody’s lives hang in the balance.]

chapter count: 16/21

Taglist: @honkhonkrichard @hufflepuffkaspbrak @emmieliabedelia @reddie-for-anything @reddiesetrichie@beepbeepbitchard @lemonadeandrice @mirandosky @vanilluna @fivxharmony

[Prologue] [1] [2] [3] [4] [5] [6] [7] [8] [9] [10] [11] [12] [13] [14] [15] [16] [Read Full Story on AO3] [Playlist]

Bill Denbrough stared blankly as the episode of American Vandal continued playing in the background. The past few weeks had taught Bill that he really had never known the meaning of boredom before in his whole life, unable to leave the house, nobody ever coming to see him. All Bill Denbrough had to keep himself company was the homework being sent from school, content on Netflix and the burning images of his girlfriend dying whenever he closed his eyes. He fiddled his fingers together, letting out an angry sigh.

He’d had his phone taken away by his parents, an assumed punishment for a crime that Bill couldn’t completely bring himself to feel bad about. Sure, he hadn’t really intended for Criss to die, but he’d be blinded at the moment and all he could think about was getting that gun away from Henry. Bill supposed, in complete truth, he couldn’t regret killing Criss- because if it had been Henry he wouldn’t have felt anything besides victory. Bill felt as though Criss knew what we was getting into it when he aligned himself with the Bowers gang. Bill only regret was that he hadn’t managed to take Bowers and Hockstetter down, too.

The police hadn’t responded well when Bill had told them that, hence the house arrest awaiting trial he was currently living through. He didn’t care. He would’ve done all that and more for Audra. Maybe he was coming unhinged like they all said- but living through this hell, who wouldn’t?

The sound of the knocking on his front door startled Bill out of his darkening thoughts, dragging him away from matted, bloody brown hair and sightless eyes. He was ready to simply ignore it, he didn’t suppose that company was exactly permitted during his punishment, but then he recognized the knock. The quick three knocks with the singular harsh, one. A code, a knock known by only three people. Bill rolled off his ass and stomped to the front door.

Eddie Kaspbrak stood on his front step in a suit with classmates- hoodlums and scholars alike- surrounding him in similar fashion choices. Bill found himself frowning and rattling his brain before letting out a harsh chuckle. “Prom night already? I can’t go,” he told him, lifting up his leg and shaking his ankle to showcase the bracelet that insured his prison.

A pained look crossed Eddie’s face as he looked down at it, and Bill felt a small thrill at it. In the events of the past weeks, Bill had all but forgotten his and Eddie’s spat the night of Greta’s party, but seeing him at his front door now after everything brought it all rushing back. A small ball of anger settled in his stomach, even as rational part of Bill’s brain knew that nearly all his rage to Eddie was being misdirected. “What the fuck are you doing here, Kaspbrak?” He asked, already stepping aside to let him in as the words left his mouth.

Eddie flushed a deep red, mouth opening and closing rapidly with wide panicked eyes. Stanley Uris stepped out of the crowd and rested a hand on Eddie’s shoulder. “We need somewhere to meet and get our stories straight. You have literally the safest house in this whole town, and…” Stan raised one eyebrow. “I assume you want to know what you’ve missed out on?”

Stan and Bill glowered at one another for a long moment before Bill let out an aggressive sigh and waved for the mismatched group of teens to come inside. Bill knocked shoulders against Eddie as he walked past, causing him to curl into himself and wrap his arms around his middle. Aurora wrapped an arm around Eddie’s shoulders and shot a dirty glare in Bill’s direction, which he happily ignored.

Bill looked around the room of his peers and felt embarrassingly underdressed in his red hoodie and jeans. “So…” he said slowly. “Where’s your little delinquent boyfriend, Eddie?”

Eddie made an awkward noise in the back of his throat, turning away angrily. “I don’t know,” Eddie said, voice breaking slightly. For a moment, Bill felt a pang in his chest. That voice was from an Eddie he knew, an Eddie of asthma attacks and late night tears. That little bit of sympathy was quickly snuffed out when Eddie told a single deep breath and wiped every inch of emotion from his face in a move so Tozier-like that Bill got chills.

“I’m assuming that even trapped inside your own house, you know Henry Bowers escaped from jail when they were trying to transfer him to Shawshank?” Stan said coolly as the group moved into the Denbrough’s large living room.

“Henry Bowers is dead,” Aurora said, not looking up from her phone as she dropped onto the arm of couch and leaned against Ben’s shoulder. She looked up after the long pause of silence throughout the room caught her attention. She held her phone up and shook it. “Dorian Tweeted about it. That’s what the lock down was all about, they found his body in the hallway.”

“That…” Mike shook his head slowly. “That changes a lot of things.”

“No it doesn’t,” Ben piped up. “Henry was never the killer, maybe he helped them but it was never just him. I got my letter after he was arrested. And somebody had to have broken him out, right? Even if it was just to kill him.”

“What letter?” Bill asked in frustration, only to feel slightly better once he realized that there were other voices in the room that echoed his question. Only Aurora and Eddie seemed to have even the smallest idea of what Ben was talking about.

“There was a letter dropped off at the paper,” Ben said. “Basically telling me to stop investigating or I’ll die.. but also that I was probably going to die anyway. Basically telling me that everything would be answered at prom.”

“Which we already knew,” Eddie said, gesturing to nothing in particular. “The word prom was written over Janie’s body when we found her.”

“Janie’s dead?” Bill asked quickly as the conversation swirled around him.

“And what happened at Neibolt,” Patty added from where she was sitting in Stan’s lap in the big red armchair.

Bill’s brain swirled. “Neibolt? Like, the street?”

“What happened in Neibolt?” Mike asked, frowning in confusion.

“A ghost tried to kill us,” Patty and Eddie answered in unison. Ben blinked in surprise and Aurora gave a disbelieving look while Mike nodded as though that made all the sense in the world.

“I think tried to kill is-“ Stan started but Bill made a loud, angry noise before Stan could get another word in. Stan’s eyebrows shot up his forehead.

“I hope you realize I have absolutely no idea what the fuck any of you are talking about,” Bill practically shouted. “I’ve been in this house since that night, with no contact with anybody except my parents or fucking… Butch Bowers… to talk to. So, please, I need you to start at the beginning.”

“The beginning is about thirty years ago,” Mike Hanlon added quickly. Bill let out an angry groan, running his hand down his face and letting himself fall onto the couch into the lap of Ben Hanscom, the action dragging Aurora down on top of them both.

“How the actual fuck does it start thirty years ago?” Eddie asked, shaking his head.

Stan and Patty turned towards Eddie with matching looks of surprise. “Richie hasn’t mentioned Robert Gray to you? He’s like an old Devils wise tale.” Patty said with a small laugh.

“It’s an a legend, he’s real.” Mike said with a frown. “He killed all those people thirty years ago, just like people are dying now.”

Stan gave Mike a pitying look. “I don’t know,” he said slowly. “It always been pretty far fetched to me. It was a warning to kids of blood Derry Devils to stay loyal to their kind or else. Which is absolutely bullshit because look at Bill’s dad and-“ Stan stalled, glancing at Eddie.

“You can say my dad, too,” Eddie said with an eye roll. “I already know, he told me. Can’t say he’s good example of being successful after leaving the Devils.”

“He’s not in jail for murder,” Patty said helpfully.

“Yeah…” Eddie let out a short breath. “But I thought it was him at first.”

There was a long moment of silence through the room, the teens all looking at one another and avoiding Eddie’s gaze. It was easy enough, with how Eddie was staring stubbornly at the ground. “Well…” Aurora cleared her throat. “Robert Gray was a real dude, Mike and I went to Shawshank. Talked to some people who knew him. Got a picture of his little jailbait.”

Patty scoffed. “I think his jailbait was the tens of teenagers he killed, not so much the one he decided could live and he’d have sex with.”

“I’m still totally lost,” Bill said quietly, looking around the room with wide eyes “Can I have like.... a jot note point of whatever the fuck is going on?”

“Robert Gray killed a bunch of people back in the 90s,” Mike said, clicking and unclicking a pen he’d pulled from the pocket of his suit. “He was also dating a high school girl who we only know the initials of- L.B - and when he got caught for sleeping with her, they investigated him for that crime and found all the stuff that connected him to the murders. They found the girl he was sleeping with to be innocent of the murders or anything to do with them, but he’s our best lead to what’s happening now- if we could figure out who she is.”

“Her initials are what?” Eddie asked, crinkling his nose and looking at Bill. Bill pursed his lips and nodded back at him. He knew the same disconnected rattling in his brain that Eddie was feeling- the knowledge that he knew what name that was, but couldn’t quite reach it inside his mind.

“Butch Bowers was also the one who reported the relationship,” Aurora rushed on over Eddie’s question. “And when we went to Shawshank there was a picture of her- with Maggie Tozier and Eddie’s dad in the background.”

Eddie nodded. “My dad is also the other person in the picture with your dad and Went Tozier that got leaked to the press,” Eddie told Bill. “That’s why I started talking to Richie in the first place, he knew it was my dad before even I did. My dad used to be a Devil before he married my mother, it makes sense that they’d be all these pictures together. He hung around with Went and Maggie in high school, he told Rich and I as much.”

“My dad, too, then.” Bill scratched the back of his head. “He’s older than your dad and Richie’s mom by a few years- maybe two? But they would’ve run in circles, yeah.”

“Then they’d all know who the girl with Robert Gray was,” Ben jumped in. “We just need to figure out which one would be easiest to get information out of.”

An angry look crossed over Eddie’s face. “Figuring out some stupid student-teacher relationship from the 90s isn’t going to help us find Richie!”

“You don’t know that, Eddie-“ Aurora started but Bill interrupted once again.

“What exactly happened to Richie?”

Stan exhaled hard. “We actually don’t know, he and Bev went off to do something to help set up for prom and never came back. Then the school went under lock down- because of Henry’s body apparently, which kind of throws out any idea I had of what happened to them.”

Patty nodded. “Richie and Bev are old, old Blood Devils. With the Denbrough line gone, the Toziers are the oldest family from South Derry. Beverly is the last of the Marsh’s, and raised by the Toziers most her life.”

“Okay, can you say that in normal non-gangster words for us good civilians?” Ben said lightly.

“It means Richie and Bev have been trained to fight off an attack and survive since they were diapers,” Eddie said tiredly. “So, whoever managed to get at them would have had to have been just as well trained- probably more so, because they over powered them both.”

“Not necessarily,” Stan said, tilting his head to the side in thought. “Richie and Bev’s energy have been off with each other ever since her trial… understandably. If whoever it was went at Richie first, it wouldn’t have been hard to get Bev to back down.”

“But what I’m getting here,” Bill said with a wave of both hands. “Is that we agree that only another Devil could have taken Tozier and Marsh? So it actually has been a Devil this whole time?”

Stan narrowed his eyes as he turned sights on Bill. “Nobody said that, don’t put words in people’s mouths. We just said it had to be somebody strong enough and stupid enough to go after them. I might add, only two people have gone down for any of these crimes, and neither of them have been Devils: Henry Bowers and you.”

Bill launched to his feet, Stan following quickly behind but Eddie was jumping up and forcing himself between them. “STOP!” He cried. “Fucking fighting with each other isn’t going to help anything!” He pushed at Bill’s chest until he backed off, before turning back to Stan and Patty. “What do you mean Henry wasn’t a Devil? He ran around with Devils as long as I’ve known anything.”

“So have I,” Stan said shortly with a shrug. “The Bower family doesn’t have Devils blood, so to join Henry would’ve had to prove himself. It was pretty agreed upon that he was too unhinged to be trusted, he spent time around because Hockstetter and Huggins are Devils.”

“Bowers was too crazy but Hockstetter wasn’t?” Aurora asked in disbelief.

Patty crossed her arms around her chest. “He said unhinged- not insane. Patrick Hockstetter is a deranged sociopath, absolutely. But he also wouldn’t go on some half-assed murder spree with .45 and blow away his classmates. If Hockstetter is going to kill you, he’d do it clever.”

“He’d just Henry to do it,” Eddie said slowly. “Make Henry think it was his idea….”

“And kill him when it looks like Henry might tell,” Stan continued Eddie’s sentence, the two of them staring at each other with wide eyes.

“Okay, hey!” Mike called to them. “I think everybody else in the room missed something.”

Eddie spun around with wild eyes. “You guys were there…” He said slowly. “How come Hockstetter didn’t get arrested with Henry?”

Bill held his hands up in defence. “I was a little busy getting fucking arrested to see what anybody else was doing.”

“I saw Hockstetter,” Mike said slowly. “He was talking to Sheriff Bowers when they pulled Bill from the house in cuffs. Nobody seemed to bother going after him, they had Henry, Criss was dead… open and shut case.”

“Except it wasn’t,” Ben said. “Bill, do you remember what he said to you? About how they weren’t taking their orders from the Toziers anymore?”

“Yuh-yeah…” Bill nodded slowly. “Said something about having a new player or whatever? He was there looking for Tozier. Kept saying nobody would get hurt if we just told him where Tozier was.”

“Doesn’t exactly sound like Henry just snapping and shooting up his classmates,” Ben said plainly. “Now Henry is dead and Richie is missing. So, really… what if Richie was the target the whole time?”

“If Richie was the target, who ever it was would’ve just killed him straight out.” Patty said. “Why waste the time and effort with kidnapping him just to kill him in the end?”

“What’s far fetched about that?” Mike asked with a dry laugh. “They kept Janie in the Neibolt House for four months before killing her.”

“You really think all these people died because somebody wanted to kill Richie Tozier?” Bill asked with an eyeroll. “I want to kill Richie Tozier once a week, and even I think that’s a little much.”

Eddie rolled his eyes. “What about Bev? If they wanted Richie, then why take her, too?”

“Because she was there?” Ben suggested.

“Because she’s a traitor,” Patty said quietly. “She was working with them before, we know that. But she was going to expose them, she was playing both sides. Neither one could trust her, it’s enviable that one side would kill her. It was just a race to who was going to do it first.”

Eddie ran his fingers through his hair. “This isn’t helping anything! We still have no idea who took them! Or where!”

“Well, what about Neibolt?” Patty suggested. “It’s probably like their home base.”

“It’s a crime scene,” Ben pointed out. “They won’t go back there.”

“It’s not a well kept crime scene,” Patty countered. “Stan, Eddie and I already trampled all over it. Neibolt Street is no-mans land. It’s the best place anybody could go for anything.”

“So…” Bill cleared his throat. “They held Janie in the Old Neibolt house for four months? The one that Beverly killed her father in?” Patty and Stan both nodded, Stan a little begrudgingly. “Okay.”

Bill turned and rushed from the front door of the house. Eddie made a loud noise of protest and ran after him. He stumbled to the front door, nearly running into it while it was hanging open. He could hear Bill’s police bracelet beeping angrily as the boy ran down the streets. Eddie was debating chasing after him when his phone started charming in his pocket.

Incoming Call from Richie Tozier <3.

#reddie #reddie fic #it fanfiction #my writing #blood in the water #... and THATS what you missed on glee

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