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#i’ve never drawn materials such as plastic wrap before
simplee-dreaming · 3 years
Text
The Party
A/N: I spent far too much time deciding how all of their outfits were gonna look so I hope it paid off. Also, I know some things I mention have different names in different countries but I've gone for what I only know as the British version. Hope you like it! (Totally didn't get inspiration for this idea from driving past a joke shop myself...)
Word count: 2951
Summary: The reader attends her first themed party hosted by RDJ, but her outfit lands her in trouble.
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Tonight was the night. The night you had been waiting for for weeks. A party at Robert Downey Jr’s house. But not just any old party, oh no, a party for the Avengers cast. Not even just a party - a themed party.
See, Robert is well known for his themed parties. Of course he’s done the classics such as the black and white theme, the 80s theme, even the “dress as your favourite superhero” theme - what could be more suited? But he’s also well known for his unique themes. For example: dress as what you wanted to be when you were a kid; dress as your favourite fruit or veg; dress as another member of the cast; dress as your favourite gay icon. The list goes on.
This was your very first party with the cast though. Being the newest member, you were super excited to have a great night with them all outside of work - plus little Tom couldn’t stop guessing what this theme could be. It was, of course:
“Dress as your favourite board game.”
Yep. Board games.
You spent ages trying to figure out what board game you were going to dress up as. The main rule of the themed parties was that you couldn’t tell other people what you were going as unless you deliberately needed someone else to complete your outfit.
You were desperate for ideas now that the party was only a week away. It wasn’t until you were walking down the highstreet, and something in the shop window caught your eye, that you finally had an idea. You were standing outside of a joke shop, and in the window stood a dress...designed like a Twister mat.
Perfect.
The day had finally arrived. No one was filming today so you had all day to get yourself ready. Hair and makeup done, Twister dress on, ready to rumble.
You made your way to RDJ’s house at half 8 - late enough to not be the first one there but early enough to enjoy everyone’s company for longer. You smiled with glee as you stepped into the house. You were tingling with excitement as you walked towards the room where the music played. The minute you walked into the room, everyone approached you. And one by one you scanned them all to see what they were dressed as.
The first person you saw was Anthony, he was dressed up as Cards Against Humanity. Not quite a board game but funny nonetheless. The front of his outfit was completely black and the back was completely white. The writing on his front read “I drink to forget _____”, and the writing on his back read “Tom Holland”. You giggled.
Next was Scarlett. She decided to come dressed as Pictionary. Part of her outfit was made with polyester and nylon, and she carried around a whiteboard marker so that anyone could draw a picture on her outfit and others had to guess what it was. This could also be wiped off easily, ready for the next person to draw.
Sebastian was next, you snorted when you saw him. He was dressed as Frustration. His outfit was divided into the four colours: his top right being yellow, top left being green, bottom right being blue and bottom left being red. He had placed a semisphere plastic hat over his head and inside lay a foam dice which jumped about whenever he shook his head.
After Seb came Liz. She was dressed up as Uno. Her front and back were two different colours of the uno reverse card - the front being red and the back being green. The point of this is that whenever someone asked her to do something she didn’t wanna do, she’d just point to her outfit and get out of doing it.
Next was Paul B. He came as Trivial Pursuit. Random questions and answers were plastered all over his suit, such as: “how many feet are there in a fathom? 6”; “What three-word slogan was named the most popular advertisement ever in a 2000 poll? Beanz Meanz Heinz”; and his own personal saying, “Where do snitches end up? In ditches”.
Following Paul was the unsurprising double act. Big Tom and Hemsy. They had come dressed as Snakes and Ladders. Tom had glued a giant toy python to his all-black outfit, and Chris had stuck a cardboard ladder to the front and back of his all-white outfit. Simple, yet effective.
Then came Evans who was dressed as Noughts and Crosses, despite numerous comments from RDJ about it not being a board game. His back was full of paper noughts and crosses stuck to his top but his front had a similar material to Scarlett’s where the cast could play their own game on his front and then wipe it off for the next players.
You scanned little Tom next. He had gone all out with his outfit, dressing up as Operation. He was wearing a light pink coloured top and matching trousers and had stapled all the pieces of operation to their correct areas, such as the butterfly, the spare rib and the wish bone. He’d also used face paint to paint his nose a dark shade of red. Adorably creepy in a way.
Last, but certainly not least, was the man himself. Robert Downey Jr. He came as the popular game Cluedo. And boy did he look fancy. He wore a top hat that had a giant question mark stuck to it, and a tuxedo with a long sweeping tail attached to the jacket. Neatly placed all over his black suit were the names of the suspects, the names of the rooms and the names of the weapons - all written in white. He looked splendid.
“Twister. How unusual. I love it,” Robert said, the others nodded in agreement.
“Thanks, you all look incredible,” you said.
Little Tom held out his arm and led you to the dance floor where you spent the next hour dancing the night away. Big Tom and Hemsy were owning the dance floor with their moves. Many party classics blared through the speakers, including 5,6,7,8...which you knew the dance off by heart but RDJ had to be taught the moves by you and little Tom.
Another hour passed and you were sat with Scarlett, Liz and Paul in the other room where the music wasn’t so loud. Seb was with you but he had asked Liz to get him a drink and she played the uno reversal so now he was on drinks duty.
“Paul, can I borrow your suit just so I can literally look smarter?” You asked, he chuckled.
“Maybe I can just follow you around and relay the facts for you,”
“You could be the Yoda to my Luke. Though I think you’re too big to sit on my back,” you said.
“Here’s your punch,” said Seb, returning with two cups for him and Liz.
“Finally, what took you so long?” she asked.
“I stopped in the party room, Anthony and little Tom are having a competition to see who can do the macarena better,” he said.
“But...the macarena is the macarena…” you said, confused.
“Try telling them that. Tom insisted that the Brits do it better apparently.”
“Well, we do have some absolute bangers,” you chuckled. Paul agreed.
“So where did you get that dress?” Scarlett asked you.
“The joke shop down the highstreet. I was walking past it last week and found it in the window. Thought it would be perfect,” you shrugged.
“Until Mackie gets over excited and plays Twister on you,” Seb said.
“I’d like to see him try,” you replied.
“Ah, here’s the gang. What are you all doing in here?” Robert said, entering the room with big Tom and Evans.
“We’re just sat chatting….wait, have you left Holland and Mackie alone?” Seb asked.
“They’re fine, Chris is with them,” Tom replied. You tilted your head at him and raised an eyebrow.
“Maybe I should check on them…” Tom said, you nodded and he left the room.
“Soooo, how’s it going?” Evans asked everyone.
“We’re all fine but Y/N is a bit twisted,” Seb said. Everyone laughed but you bonked him on the head, making the dice jolt.
“Oi!”
You giggled and slapped the plastic hat again, the dice landed on a 6.
“Eyy I get another go!” You cheered before bonking him on the head again. He sighed but chuckled.
“Well it’s nice to see her dressed as an actual board game,” Robert said, turning to Evans.
“Hey, that’s not fair! Noughts and crosses is a board game!” Evans protested.
“I wanna play,” you said. Evans smiled at you.
You got Liz to play with you and you went first. You decided to play as noughts and took the bottom left corner. After a few rounds, you got a straight diagonal line. You cheered as Liz huffed, but she congratulated you nonetheless.
“I wanna play pictionary now,” you said, turning to Scarlett. She smiled and handed you a whiteboard pen. You thought for a moment then began drawing.
You pressed down on Scarlett’s outfit to make sure you could draw properly. You ran the pen down her stomach and she giggled.
“Hey, careful, that tickles,” she said. You blushed and apologised but continued. Everytime the pen went over a certain spot Scarlett would giggle but she never flinched.
“Okay, I’m done,” you announced. Everyone leaned forward and groaned once they saw it.
“Really? You know none of us can say that,” Seb said.
“First one to say it correctly wins,” you shrugged. You had drawn Mjolnir, something that everyone struggled to say.
“Midge-oh-lair,” said Liz.
“Mjohn-ler,” said Seb.
“Me-joln-ier,” said Evans.
“Hey! It’s Mjolnir!” came a voice from the door. Hemsy had just walked in with Mackie, little Tom and big Tom.
“We have a winner,” you grinned and everyone groaned again.
“Okay now I wanna play snakes and ladders,” you said. You scrambled to your feet and launched yourself at Hemsy, climbing up his tall body and clinging to him like a koala. He laughed.
“Okay, and what do we do now?” He chuckled. You shrugged and hugged him tighter, he returned the favour.
“As nice as this is, princess, I can’t carry you around the rest of the evening,” Hemsy said.
“Alright, hang on. Gotta complete the game,” you said. You motioned big Tom to come nearer and leaned over to hug him. Your legs followed and wrapped around his waist before you slid down his body and landed on the floor. Tom laughed.
“Impressive,” he said. You lay flat at the floor and looked at him, giggling.
“You’re very playful today,” big Tom said.
“I’m just happy to be here,” you giggled, he smiled at you.
“Alright my turn, I wanna play twister,” Mackie said, launching himself at you.
“WAIT!” You cried, panicked by his sudden movement. Mackie didn’t listen.
“I’m not doing anything! I need someone to give me an instruction,” he said.
“Right foot red,” Seb said. Mackie lifted his foot and put it on the first red spot he could see, directly on your tummy. You giggled as he adjusted his foot, rubbing it against your tummy.
“Noho Anthony!”
He looked and realised what he was doing, then smirked and vibrated his foot on your tummy again. You giggled louder.
“The twister mat is making noises, how do I turn it off?” He asked.
“Um, try putting your left hand on yellow,” little Tom piped up. Mackie grinned as he spotted a yellow spot on your ribs. He put his hand down and gave them an “accidental” squeeze.
“Hehey!” You shrieked.
“Didn’t work Holland, anyone else?” Mackie said.
“Try right hand green,” Scar said, smirking. Mackie placed his right hand on the green spot on your side and squeezed again.
“Stohop!” You cried.
“Right well that didn’t work, and I can’t put my left foot on it otherwise I would break it. Any other ideas?” he said.
“You may have to push a few buttons, try turning it off and on again,” Paul said. Mackie squeezed your ribs and sides again and shook his foot on your tummy. You screeched loudly.
“Nope, still making noises,”
“Let me have a look,” Liz said. Mackie had you pinned below his hands and foot. You started to giggle as you felt a single finger run up your neck.
“Nonono Lizzie!” You squeaked as she dragged a nail up the other side.
“There must be an off button around here,” she teased. She gently scribbled all her nails into your neck. You scrunched up your shoulders and shrieked.
“NOHOHOHO!”
“Definitely not here, you sure it’s not there Mackie?” Lizzie asked. Mackie squeezed your ribs and sides again and your giggles turned to laughter.
“Nope, no no, that’s made it worse,” he said. “Someone try a blue spot!”
Evans jumped up and ran over to help. He found a blue spot right on your hip, he placed his hand over it and started squeezing.
“NAHAHAHAHAHA!” You screamed. Trying to buck your body was impossible with Mackie still pinning you.
“Dammit Evans you turned the volume up!” Mackie yelled.
“Maybe the problem lies outside of the mat itself,” big Tom piped up.
“What you saying Hiddleston? That we’re the problem?” Mackie asked.
“Not at all, just that there appears to be parts connected to the mat, but not part of the mat itself,” Tom said, putting his hand on his chin. He slowly approached you and swiped a single finger under your knee. You kicked it away.
“Now it’s malfunctioning,” Mackie informed him. Tom hummed and swiped a finger under your other knee. You kicked again. He then spider tickled under both your knees and you shrieked loudly.
“PLEHEHEASE I’M NOHOT BROKEN!” You screamed.
“God DAMN you made it talk!” Mackie yelled.
“I know what the issue is,” Robert said, stepping forward.
“Do go on?” big Tom said.
“You need to hit all the pressure points at once. It’s like a giant reset button, wear it down till it reboots itself,” he said. Everyone looked at each other.
“Position yourselves,” Robert instructed.
Mackie stepped off of your stomach and knelt by your left side, Seb knelt by your right. Lizzie was still up by your neck and big Tom by your knees. Scarlett was by your right shoulder, Paul by your left. Evans positioned himself by your hips, little Tom the other side by your thighs. Hemsworth and Robert sat next to your feet.
“Nonononono please!” You cried.
“Rebooting systems in 3…” Robert began.
“No please!”
“2…”
“Wait!”
“1…”
“No wait I’m not brOHOHOHOKEN!” You cried as everyone attacked you at once. No one was pinning you down but you could hardly twist and turn with 10 people tickling all your spots at once. They were all ruthless and yet...you sort of loved it.
“PLEHEHEHASE NOHOHOHO!” You cried, flailing your arms around. Mackie and Seb were squeezing up and down your sides and across your tummy, Lizzie was tickling deep into your neck, Scar and Paul had just caught an arm each and pinned it upwards so they could tickle your underarms, big Tom was scratching under your knees and squeezing the tops, Evans was squeezing and scribbling into your hips, little Tom was scratching up and down your thighs and Hemsy and Robert had grabbed a foot each to tickle. It was pure torture.
“KEEP GOING, IT’LL WEAR DOWN EVENTUALLY!” Robert yelled over your screams of laughter. Everyone picked up the speed and you screamed louder than ever before.
You now had your arms and legs pinned by Scar, Paul, Robert and Hemsworth so you tried to buck your hips as much as possible and scrunch up your shoulders to protect your neck but it was no use.
“NOHOHOHO MOHOHORE!” You cried. You let out another loud scream and fell into a silent laughter. Tears filled your eyes to the point where you couldn’t even see Lizzie kneeling over you.
“Reboot complete,” Robert instructed. He stopped tickling your foot and one by one the rest of the cast followed and ceased their attack. You lay there, taking in deep breaths of air.
“You alright twisty?” Mackie asked, sliding up to your head. You nodded, letting out residue giggles. Evans gave you a hand up and propped you up against the sofa.
“You...are...all...evil…” you breathed out. Everyone chuckled.
“You were in a playful mood, we wanted to join,” Evans said, winking at you.
“I never knew you were so ticklish,” Hemsworth said.
“So would you be if 10 people ganged up on you,” you replied. He laughed and nodded in agreement. Little Tom sat down next to you.
“You okay?” He asked, pulling you in for a hug. You nodded.
“Yeah...that was fun,” you clamped your mouth shut after realising what you just said.
“Fun eh?” little Tom teased, quickly spidering your side to make you giggle again.
“We had fun too if that’s any consolation? Could go for round two if you want,” big Tom said. You looked at him and smiled.
“Not today I don’t think, you guys well and truly broke me,” you said, everyone laughed.
“I think I’ve already decided on the theme for next year,” Robert said. Everyone turned to him.
“Tickle Me Y/N,” he said, “where everyone has to bring a random object to tickle Y/N with. First to make her say stop wins.” He winked at you and you blushed and hid your head in little Tom’s shoulder. He chuckled and stroked your head.
“Now that will be a fun theme,” Mackie replied.
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sweetestlamb · 3 years
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Walk Through A Storm
Author's note: Honestly, like I could help myself from doing this. it's short because I need to actually get my life together but enjoy. Oh also I don't wanna think anymore so someone give me title in the comments lol I'll pick the one that fits the best. (Thanks for actually giving suggestions, one really spoke to me!)
Summary: "I'm not ready to stop kissing you yet."
"I thought you were going to reject me." She whispers in between the small space between them, their lips are close enough to meet again in another soul burning kiss and he's tempted to close the gap again. They can talk later so for the second time in his life he wants to be selfish, she brings that out in him; makes him hungry for more than he thinks he deserves. She's been doing that since he first met her.
"I'm not ready to stop kissing you yet." Her eyes widen at his whispered words and without pause he leans closer softly pressing his lips against hers. She tastes sweet like the best candy he could never get as a young boy. Her little hands slide up his back dragging him closer and he goes easily, his walls are saw dust at this point and she's a windstorm. Wrapping his arms fully around her body he pulls her closer, cupping the back of her head as he swipes his tongue at the seam of her lips. She gasps in a way that makes his blood bubble and flow southward. The sea roars besides them providing the soundtrack to their first cognizant kisses. Hopefully the first of many.
The kiss drags and overlaps, her tongue persistent in his mouth and her hands busy stroking and rubbing at his back. It takes all of his willpower to sever their connection but he's starting to feel light-headed (and horny). This all still seems like a dream ever since he saw her running over to him, when she was supposed to be in Seoul. Leaving without telling him. Making him think the worst.
"Why do you look like you want to cry?" She cups his cheeks and he's reminded of that unforgettable night. She looks so concerned that he wants to disappear not used to being on the receiving end of such looks.
"Nothing. I'm fine." He tries to brush her off, viciously wiping at his eyes but she doesn't let him push her away, grabbing his hands tightly in her own. "Tell me what you're thinking. I told you everything in my head."
He almost chuckles at her expectant gaze. She sounds like him demanding payment.
"People usually leave but you're the first...to come back early." He smiles sadly thinking about all the people he'll never see again, and how he considered that she might go back to Seoul and realize that she was much too big for the pond that was Gongjin. He wouldn't have stopped her, she deserved the whole world.
"The first hm. I like that." He stares at her face, grinning at the satisfied grin and the enveloping dimples on both sides of her face.
"A daughter with your dimples would be dangerous, I think I'd understand how Chun-jae feels then." She pauses at his words mouth gaping and it hits him just what he's implied about their future. It's presumptuous and he should correct it but his tongue feels too heavy and her bright eyes suck the air from his lungs.
"Where's Mi-Seon? How did you get back so quickly?"
"Oh." She jumps cutely, suddenly hitting him on the shoulder and he winces ready to scold her for hitting him so close to his injury. But then she starts hitting herself on the head and instinctively he grabs her, stopping the self inflicted abuse.
"Stop that. I like that head." It's cheesy, something he would have cringed at if he heard another utter it but once he sees the smile she rewards him with none of that matters anymore, he'll say anything to make her beam like that.
"You're such a flirt." She fails at sounding bothered. "Oh and I left her in Seoul. It started raining and I realized you were it for me so I ran into the rain and left her on the sidewalk. Crazy right?" She starts snickering at her own words and he stares at her taken aback laughter forced out of his lungs at her infectious giggles.
She comes into his house like she belongs there, going to his fridge without permission and grabbing a bottle of water. He feels parched watching her drink it, never before has he wished to be a plastic bottle. So many firsts with her.
"What are you staring at?" She tilts her head like a bunny and he can't get the image of her with floppy ears out of his head.
"Cute."
"What?" She blushes furiously at his accidental slip and he clears his throat before grabbing his phone, desperately needing a distraction.
"Nothing. I'll call someone to pick up Mi-Seon."
"Who are you calling?" She asks walking over to him, sitting far too closely for his brain to function at maximum capacity. When a deep familiar masculine voice answers she squeals, bouncing in her seat and giving him thumbs up. He feels so proud he could burst.
"Don't say no. She's all alone and abandoned. What if something happens to her? Could you live with yourself?" He replies to the stuttering officers weak refusals and those are the right words to get the meek man moving, it's comical that he would be playing matchmaker for anyone else.
"You're a master manipulator." She accuses and he stares in surprise, "Does it upset you?" But she surprises him by leaning closer, spread deliciously across his compact couch. "No. It's sexy." Her face is glorious under the soft lighting in his living room and he swallows the drool collecting in his mouth, embarrassed when it starts a coughing fit. She thumps his back firmly before thrusting her water at him, "Drink." He listens obediently.
He gulps at the bottle, taking a deep breath before collapsing backwards into the couch.
"Am I making you nervous?" Making. As if it's only a present occurrence, as if she hasn't been making him swallow his words and expectations from the very beginning. He shifts looking at her through narrowed eyes.
She's far too innocently twirling her hair blinking up at him with wide eyes.
"You're doing this on purpose." She smiles serenely at the claim, leaning back onto the couch and by default his arm that's strewn across the top. She presses her body into the side of his body and he tightens his hold on her shoulder. It all feels too natural.
"I'm surprised it's working. You never seemed affected by me. You denied liking me so easily. Biological crisis, my ass."
He jumps at her cursing, she sounds too much like her father. It makes him smirk.
"I thought I had to. You were right, we are so different. I thought it was something fleeting for you, you told me you're someone who gets curious."
"Pfftt. You think I get curious about just anyone? I have high standards. I'm quite a catch you know?" Her signature bravado, but this time he can see through the veil better. Can spot the cracks and tears and it makes him want to protect her even more.
"I know. You're the best thing I've ever caught."
He'll never grow tired of being the reason that face turns so pink and flushed. (Immediately pushing aside an image of her beneath him.)
"Wait here. I have something for you." He wants to argue as she starts to leave his embrace but she's too quick for his grabby hands and he pouts at her unwanted departure. He moves to follow her but she's back before he's even finished putting on his shoes.
"Where did you go? We could have gone together."
"What? Did you miss me?" She teases, dimples flashing up at him.
"Don't be absurd." He denies but his cheeks burn yes.
"Whatever. I went to get this. Here." She thrusts a large bag at him, looking excited and embarrassed all at once. He takes it confused, prying it open and feeling more confusion wash over him.
"These are men's shirts." He says dumbly and she stares unimpressed at him, rolling her eyes before nodding.
"Yes. I got them for you in Seoul. Keep them even if you don't like them. They're a gift." She looks so small and... scared that he reacts without thinking, dragging his shirt over his head and throwing it to the side. The sight that welcomes him as his head pops out of the hole is not a new one, but it's still as effective as the first time. Hye Jin looks desperate, eyes locked on his now naked chest. His skin raises under her intense gaze.
"Miss Dent--Hye Jin ah?" His call doesn't do anything, well that's a lie it doesn't knock her back to reality like he'd expect instead it seems to be the siren call that lures her closer to him. Her hand outreached before landing on the tense muscles in his stomach, with one touch he already feels devastated.
"What are you doing to me?" He aches to feel and touch and kiss and fuc-
But it's too soon for all that. They haven't even defined this yet and despite all the lines they've crossed he wants to do this right.
Taking a step back he escapes her torturous touch and pulls a shirt from the bag, ready to cover himself back up from her too penetrating gaze.
"Wait." Her voice is so raspy and longing he has no choice and he watches mesmerized as she watches him hungrily, eyes darting all over his naked skin dissecting him. He swallows hard when he sees her little hands balled up in fists by her side. Disbelief swirling in his belly. "Okay. You can do it. That's enough....for now."
His cheeks flare at the seductively spoken words and to stop himself from devouring her like a starved man he slides on a smooth button down shirt. It fits him perfectly and gulps as he buttons it up. Nobody besides his grandfather ever bought him clothes.
"It's a perfect fit." Hye Jin echoes his thoughts smoothing a hand across the soft material. He stands ramrod straight at her ministration.
"Thank you. I'll wear it well." His throat is thick and he has to blink to chase away the tears pooling there, dangerously close to falling. She hums before stepping forward into his space again, that kiss effectively tearing down all the walls and lines they had both erected and drawn.
"You're already wearing it so well. But...it looks even better off. I can't wait to see it on my bedroom floor."
A scandalized squeak is all he's able to get out before she's diving at him and devouring his lips so roughly that they tumble onto the floor.
The pain in his shoulder is worth it as she kisses him senseless systematically driving out every doubt and insecurity. At least for tonight.
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moonlit-jeno · 3 years
Text
evanescence (m.)
pairing: kim jungwoo x fem. reader
genre/warnings: ghost au, explicit sexual content, angst, fluff, mentions of death, some graphic violence/ gore, character death, brief mention of heights, i swear it’s not as bad as it sounds
word count: 7.8k
summary:
evanescence (n.): the quality of being fleeting or vanishing quickly; impermanence; i.e the evanescence of dreams
song to listen to: me & your ghost- blackbear, faded in my last song- nct, trampoline- SHAED, lonely heart- 5  seconds of summer, dreaming with a broken heart- john mayer
notes: evanescence i.e not the band who wrote my immortal <3 part of the almost collab!
The thing about fear is that it’s irrational.
Of course the doll in the corner of your room won’t suddenly come alive and kill you. Of course the spider on your ceiling is actually harmless. Of course nightmares won’t come true and haunt you in your daily life, won’t do more than bother you for a few minutes when you’re asleep. Knowing that doesn’t make it any less scary. Doesn’t stop the shivers from crawling up your spine, doesn’t ease your breathing when you curl into yourself in an attempt to hide.
Some people find comfort in crawling under their blankets, hiding themselves from the rest of the world as if the thick cloth will protect them. You don’t have that luxury. Because the thing you fear isn’t some axe murderer breaking into your house, or some mutant spider wrapping you up in a web. It’s not ghosts or ghouls or demons.
It’s sleep itself.
You used to love sleeping. Naps were considered a favorite hobby of yours, a way to escape from your obligations temporarily or lift your spirits during a bad day. But the line between like and dislike is thin, and the peaceful dreams you were accustomed to transformed into terrors that torture your nights and leave you shaking and sleep deprived when you wake.
Coffee becomes your best friend, the drink becoming a crutch that you use desperately to avoid reliving the nightmare that haunts you every time your eyes fall shut. It’s always the same scene: a basement, a young man being tortured by a masked figure. Punched, strangled, stabbed. It’s always in that order, with the exact same amount of punches and stabbings each time- six. It’s worse than any movie you’ve ever seen, worse than anything that you can imagine. And yet it doesn’t get any less horrifying as time goes on, as you relive the same thing over and over again.
The only thing that changes is the point of view. Sometimes you can see it from his perspective, begging for mercy from an expressionless figure whose ears fall deaf to the boy’s pleas. That’s the worst, you think, because you can feel everything. It leaves you frantically checking yourself for wounds and marks and bruises, the vividness of your dream leaving you shocked when you find your skin unmarred. Sometimes you watch from the corner of the room, able to see everything yet unable to help, your voice stuck in your throat when you attempt to cry for help. And sometimes, you’re the killer, repeatedly delivering blow after blow in a body you can’t control.
Tonight’s different. Instead of the boy strapped to the chair, it’s you.
You shake and cry out, trying desperately to free yourself of the restraints. They aren’t strong, and yet your limbs feel like jelly and you can’t break free of them. A shadow looms over you and you look up, expecting to see the killer, but you don’t. Instead, the boy stands over you.
His features are softer like this, not scrunched in pain or splattered with blood and bruises. He smiles gently at you.
“Hello,” He says, kneeling down in front of you. One hand lands on yours and the restraints fall away, your limbs now free. “I’m Jungwoo.” You just blink at him. “I’ve seen you in my dreams.” Jungwoo’s smile falters a bit, and he huffs a humorless laugh. “That… yeah. That’s less of a dream and more of a…” He trails off, shrugs. “Memory.”
It takes a moment for it to process fully. Memory? If that’s his memory, then that means that he had to go through all of that. “I’m- I’m so sorry. Who put you through that?” He shrugs. “Dunno. But I wouldn’t pity me too much.” There’s a tight lipped smile on his face. “I’m the one that’s made you go through it, too.”
You blink once, twice, and feel the sympathy in your bones turn to fury. “Why?” You ask, tears brimming at your eyes. “I didn’t do anything to you! And you still tortured me, every night. Do you know how terrified I was? I am?”
“I’m sorry.” Jungwoo says, eyes downcast. “I didn’t even know I was projecting onto you at first. I would just get so consumed with what happened that night, and I guess you would relive the scene with me.” He takes a slow step towards you and raises his head. “I never meant to hurt you, I’m sorry.” You nod, because what can you say? Jungwoo doesn’t seem to know either and he stands there, shifting from foot to foot, looking everywhere but at you. “So.” You start, head tilting to the side curiously. “How does this work?” “How does what work?” Jungwoo seems surprised, but whether it’s by your question or by the fact that you’re able to string a coherent sentence together is lost on you.
“I dunno. This. Like are you a ghost? Do you just like, live inside my head now.” “Yeah, I mean I’m dead so I must be a ghost. Haven’t had much time to talk to people and ask.” It’s not meant to be funny, but you can’t stop yourself from laughing. You clear your throat to cover it, trying to focus your energy on your next words. He doesn’t look too hurt at your amusement, though. His eyes are twinkling. 
“Hmm let’s test it. If you live in my head, you should be able to hear my thoughts right?” Jungwoo stares at you, bringing one hand up to stroke his chin thoughtfully. Finally, he snaps his fingers. “Got it! You want pizza.” “Nope! I want you out of my head.” Your smile is sickeningly sweet. Jungwoo rolls his eyes, tongue sticking into his cheek briefly before laughing.
“Well, I want to be alive but here we are. Guess we’re at a standstill.”
Guilt fills you and you open your mouth to apologize, but Jungwoo disappears right before your eyes. You try to call out after him but it’s too late, the dream’s over. The annoying beep of your alarm replaces his soft laughter and you groan, fumbling with your phone to turn the sound off.
Classes pass quickly for once, although you’re so lost in your thoughts that you don’t register any of the material. You’re done for the day before you know it, finding yourself at a cafe with Johnny. “You’re in a good mood.” He comments, looking at you with his eyebrows furrowed. “Did you get replaced by aliens?” You roll your eyes. “I can be in a good mood, Johnny.” It’s rarely true because you’re normally running off of approximately six minutes of sleep, but hey, it still counts. 
Johnny raises his eyebrows. “Y/n, you’re never in a good mood. Not even when your best friend is here.” 
“My best friend is here? Where?” Johnny gives you a deadpan expression and you laugh, popping a grape into your mouth. “Kidding, you know I love you. But guess what: I actually slept last night!” He gasps so obnoxiously loud that he inhales the chip he was holding and chokes around it, slamming his hand down on the table and hacking his lungs out. You put your head in your hands until he finally recovers. “You slept? You actually slept? Holy fuck, you did get replaced by aliens!”
“No aliens, John. No nightmares either.” Johnny, though he’s your best friend, doesn’t know the details of your dreams. He knows that they’re bad enough to make you cry and curl up in his arms from time to time, knows that you chug energy drinks to avoid sleeping, but that’s about it. No gruesome murders in sight for him.
“Holy shit, that’s great! We should celebrate.” Johnny reaches across the table to high five you, grinning from ear to ear. “Wanna come over and crack open a few cold ones?” He bites his lip and you know that it’s taking all of his effort not to finish that sentence. 
You appreciate it, but you shake your head. “I’ve got a lab report to finish plus like two papers due. I really don’t have time.” That’s only slightly true. Yes, you do have homework, but you normally wouldn’t let that stop you. The itch to see Jungwoo again, however crazy it may sound, is driving you crazy and for once in your life, you can’t wait to fall asleep. Seeing Johnny’s expression drop makes you feel a little bad for bailing on him with a ghost. “Maybe this weekend?” 
“Yeah, for sure.” Johnny grins again. “Hopefully you get to sleep tonight.”
The nightmares seem to go away permanently after that. Your dreams always take place in that one room, but Jungwoo’s always there to greet you. A month passes and you learn a lot about him, almost to the point where you see him as a friend. Almost. Because you can’t really be friends with someone who isn’t alive, right? But he feels real. His spirit is still alive, to the point where you forget he’s a ghost who you can only talk to in your dreams, and that’s what matters. Except tonight when you fall asleep, you open your eyes to sand and salt water, gentle waves calmly lapping at the shore. Strange. Jungwoo sits with his back facing you, knees drawn up to his chest. He doesn’t look up when you sit down next to him, but he does speak when you say his name softly.
“I think I figured out why I came back.” Jungwoo says, eyes concentrated on the water. “My brother’s in danger.” His head drops to rest on his knees and you pat his back, not knowing what to say.
You don’t learn what Jungwoo meant until the next night, the man so distraught that he isn’t able to form words before your time’s up. The scene is different again this time, a playground replacing the beach from the night before. Jungwoo sits on a red plastic swing, his feet dragging on the ground sadly.
“Hey Jungwoo.” You call out the greeting gently, taking a seat next to him. “Are you okay?” He nods, laughs a little. “Yeah, sorry for freaking out last night. It’s just. It’s a lot.” “Sounds like it is. You wanna talk about it?” You pat his knee comfortingly and he stares at your hand for a long moment before covering it with his own. 
He tells you about his brother first, about how much he misses Mark, about how bad he feels for leaving him on his own. Mark’s younger than him, but only by a year, and he was nowhere near as good as him at FIFA. He tells you that he doesn’t remember who killed him, but that as soon as he was transported to the beach, he knew his brother was in danger. There’s no explanation on how the beach told him that, but you have no place questioning the afterlife. You listen patiently throughout the whole story, and it seems to help Jungwoo, his shoulders sagging with relief when he’s done.
“So whoever killed me,” Jungwoo squeezes your hand, stares at the woodchips dragging around. “They’re going to kill my brother next.”
“So we find your killer. Easy.” You squeeze his hand back. “Mark’s going to be okay, Woo. I promise.”
~
Tonight’s dream takes place on a rooftop. There are lights strung up that lead you straight to Jungwoo, the man facing you with a smile on his lips and a twinkle in his eyes. His arms are outstretched and you walk into them, sighing softly when he wraps you in his embrace. Lips press to your forehead and you swear you’ve reached heaven. “Dance with me.” He whispers it as if you have a choice to disagree with him when he looks this good. You nod and bury your face in his chest, swaying with him under the stars. There’s music playing now, music that you didn’t hear before, and he hums softly to it as you dance. A squeal leaves you when he spins you, dipping you down before pulling you close, your back to his chest. His lips graze your ear and he laughs before spinning you back around and pulling you into a kiss.
It feels so good and you find yourself getting lost in his touch. The warmth of him against you, the solidness of his chest under your palms. It’s so nice, so comforting, so… real. But it can’t be real. Because this is a dream, because Jungwoo is dead. The thought is enough to jolt you out of your haze and you try to pull back, need to pull back, but the hand on the back of your head holds you still and it feels so good that you almost don’t want to pull out of his embrace. “Jungwoo,” you mumble his name against his lips, not wanting to pull away from the kiss but needing to know the answer to your question. “Jungwoo, are you real?”
“I’m here, aren’t I?” Jungwoo chuckles, pulling you back for more. “Don’t I feel real?”
A gasp leaves you when his hand slips lower to your ass, squeezing before slipping between your thighs. He finds little resistance, easily reaching under your dress and past the thin panties you’re wearing to swipe through your folds and enter you, stretching you out deliciously well. You cling to him as if he’s your life line and not the other way around, letting him take you apart with his fingers. His name leaves your lips in a sob and you press your face against his neck, clutch at his shoulders. “Please, Jungwoo, please.”
Both of his hands slide to your ass and he picks you up easily, your legs wrapping around his waist automatically. He carries you over to the ledge of the roof, setting you down on the cool stone. He barely gives you time to take in what’s happening before he’s dropping to his knees in front of you, his eyes dark and so intense that you can’t look away from his gaze as he attaches his lips to your thighs. You slide one hand into his hair and he moans into your skin, the vibrations traveling through you as he kisses his way up your thighs and to your core. A sigh leaves you and you put your other hand behind you for balance, your heart dropping to your stomach when your fingertips wrap around the edge of the balcony. “Jungwoo!” You yelp immediately trying to stand up when you look behind you and see the darkness below you, decorated with lights from buildings so far down that they’re almost as tiny as the stars above you. “Jungwoo, I’m gonna fall. Ohmygod I’m gonna fall, Woo-”
“Shh,” Jungwoo hushes you, rubbing your thigh soothingly. He reaches for your hand and laces your fingers together, taking a moment to press his lips to the back of your hand. “Look at me, y/n. You’re not going to fall, okay? I’ll always be here to catch you if you do.” Something in his eyes looks so honest, so sincere, and you find yourself nodding slowly.
“Okay.” Your voice comes out as a whisper, too scared to raise it any louder and break the moment between you. “I trust you.” Jungwoo smiles up at you one more time before lowering himself down to your core. His free hand lifts the edge of your dress up and he takes his time rubbing slow circles into your clit, sighing out praises about how good you are when you shake from the unbearably intense sensation. His eyes stay on yours the whole time, even as he lowers his mouth to your pussy and eats you out like a man starved. It feels so good that you can barely process it, squirming against him and letting your eyes roll back. 
“Fuck, Jungwoo,” You whimper, feeling your orgasm build up in the pit of your stomach. “Shit, c’mere.” You use the hand buried in his hair to tug him up, pressing his lips to yours for a sloppy kiss that feels way too good for the moment. He rubs messy circles into your clit that have you clutching him tight to your chest, crying out his name so loud that you’re sure the entire city can hear you. “You like that?” Jungwoo asks, although his voice is so cocky that you’re almost entirely sure he knows the answer. “Fucking love it,” You pant out, orgasm so close you can taste. “Love you, ohmygod.” The end of your sentence cuts off with a whine as you come so hard you nearly black out, holding onto him so tightly you’re sure you would’ve broken at least one of his bones if this were real.
If this were real, if he were real. If this wasn’t a dream with a ghost. The realization washes over you like cold water and the dream disappears before you in a flash, leaving you trembling and empty in more ways than one. Your hand is tingling and when you look at it, you realize that Jungwoo didn’t let go the entire time.
You’re not in your bed when you wake up. It takes you a moment to realize it, the weight of your dream still heavy on your mind, but then you open your eyes and process your surroundings and realize that even though you’re awake, you’re back in your nightmares.
A scream leaves you and you jolt out of the chair, falling flat on your ass. You scramble backwards a good few feet before relaxing, realizing that your mind was just playing tricks on you. This is no nightmare place, it’s just your basement. Except…
That chair is definitely the chair from your nightmares- or well, Jungwoo’s murder. You’ve never seen it down here before, but then again, you never go into the basement. It’s been years since you’ve been down here, the room always giving you the creeps. And you’ve never sleepwalked- you can’t fathom why you’d be down here.
“Jungwoo?” You whisper, not even flinching at the gust of cold air as he materializes next to you. “Why am I down here?” “This is where I was murdered.” Jungwoo murmurs, his gaze distant, cloudy. You furrow your eyebrows.
“Here? Are you sure?” He nods strongly, not an ounce of hesitation on his face. You get to your feet and watch him pace around, tentatively poking at objects. A violent shudder runs through him when he touches the chair. “Jungwoo, this is my house.” He freezes. “This is your house? Then you must know who murdered me.” 
There’s a long second where you just stare at him, not knowing what to say. Thoughts abandon you and your mind goes blank, leaving you to shake your head and stutter out objections. “W- No, Jungwoo, I can’t-” A deep breath, a heavy exhale. “No one ever comes down here, and I can’t remember the last time I even had people here.”
“Well someone had to come down here!” Jungwoo presses, motioning at himself. “Y/n, I’m dead. You could help me find who killed me.”
You spend hours thinking through every person you know, mulling over all of your friends and anyone else who has ever been to your house. Parents are ruled out immediately- they live across the country, first off, and your mom nearly cries whenever she so much as swats a fly. Jungwoo tries to help, but he doesn’t know anyone the way that you do, and he’s a tad bit negative.
“Okay, but how do you know they’re not killers.” He asks, tone flat. “I mean, do you have hard evidence? Because somehow none of them are killers, and yet…” He smiles humorlessly and holds his arms out, doing a twirl for you. “I’m dead.” “I’m trying.” You say tiredly, pinching the bridge of your nose. “It’s just hard. Literally no one ever comes over, and I can’t picture my friends as killers. Plus, no one has access to my house except for me.” You purse your lips, staring at your sad little notepaper list with dozens of names scratched out. “Is it possible this happened before I lived here?” Jungwoo shrugs. “Yeah, I guess.” He doesn’t look convinced.
You purse your lips, groaning in defeat when your mind stays blank. “I’m sorry, Woo. We’ll figure it out eventually, I promise. I just can’t think right now.” “Hey, it’s okay. Thank you for helping and not like, I don’t know, calling an exorcist.” Jungwoo presses himself to your side, poking your cheek when you laugh, and his presence is so comforting that it’s easy to forget that he’s not really there. You swat at him good naturedly, your laugh cutting off early when you realize that he’s disappeared. You call for him a few times, panic racing through your mind, until he manifests again a few feet away from you. 
“Ohmygod, I’m so sorry! Did that hurt you? I didn’t know that would happen!” You jump to your feet, reaching out to him on impulse before thinking better of it. 
Jungwoo laughs softly, but his form flickers. “It’s okay. I guess you can only touch me in dreams.” He smiles, but it’s with his mouth closed tight. The chair becomes visible through his form as he flickers again. 
The mention of touch jolts your memories and you scratch the back of your neck nervously. “Wait, Woo, I meant to ask.” He looks at you expectantly, humming for you to go on. “Last night, in the dream. Was that like, was that really you?” “Hm? Are you asking if it was real or not?” Jungwoo asks. You nod, unable to look away from his gaze. “It was me, y/n. I’m real.”
You nod, lips pursed as you think it over. Jungwoo smiles though it’s hollow, hard to see the usual light in him when he’s nearly translucent again. “I’ll see you tonight?” 
He doesn’t wait for an answer before vanishing, leaving you alone in the cold basement.
“Yeah.” You whisper softly, a dark cloud hanging over your head.
~
“What’s in the bag?” Johnny asks you, nodding towards your bookbag. It’s normally empty, save for a notebook or wallet, but today it’s stuffed full of newspaper clippings and binders. 
“Nothing.” You shrug. “Just some old articles.” 
Johnny thumbs through a stack of the papers before looking up at you, his forehead creased. “On murders?”
“Yeah. They’re interesting. Figured I should know the history of the town I live in, right?” You take a sip of your coffee, hoping you don’t look as insane as you feel. It’d taken you hours of searching to find those articles, digging through the library archives and reading murder after murder to find ones that seemed similar to Jungwoo’s case. They were unsettling, to say the least, and the fact that someone had taken a life under your own roof left you jittery. “I mean, I guess?” Johnny shakes his head and thumbs through a few more, hesitating at one of the clippings before shoving them back in your bag. “Kind of an appetite killer.” He says, pausing after a second and laughing. “Hah, get it? Killer…” The cold stare you give him has him sobering up quickly. He clears his throat. “Anyways. What else have you been up to? You’ve been kinda distant lately.” Have you been? Probably. “Sorry.” You shrug. “Caught up in my work, you know how it is.” Johnny wiggles his eyebrows. “Seeing a new man?” You shoot him a withering look. He throws his hands up innocently. “Woman? Person?”
The word ‘ghost’ is on the tip of your tongue, but that sounds insane even to you. You can’t be seeing someone whose body fades out of existence when you so much as blow air on him too strongly. “No, Johnny. I’d tell you if I was dating someone.” “Promise?” He asks. You hold your pinky out to him, interlocking the digits and offering him a smile. He grins back. “Good. You wanna come over tonight? Play some video games, order some pizza?” 
It sounds good, and you really don’t want to be alone at your house after discovering it was the site of a murder, but you don’t want to leave Jungwoo. He’s kind of counting on you for something big, plus you have all those articles to show him… 
At your hesitation, Johnny pouts. “Come on, I feel like I’ve barely seen you for like, a month. Please? It’ll be just like old times.” The promise of old times has your resolve fading, and you give into his whining. He cheers and knocks your coffees together, dramatically complaining when the liquid splashes onto his sleeve.
~
Taking a nap had seemed like a great idea when you had gotten home from lunch, but it’s the first time you’ve dreamt without Jungwoo in your dreams, and all of the nightmares were so genuinely disturbing that you wake up sobbing. Every room seems so foreboding that you can’t bring yourself to sit in the house any longer and you run out the door without any further thought. The rain soaks through your thin sleep clothes and you find that you have three missed calls from Johnny, but you don’t bother to call him back. You’ll be at his place soon enough, and the rain is starting to blue the screen too much for you to see. Or maybe it’s your tears, you can’t be sure, and you really don’t care.
You knock on Johnny’s door, stepping back and impatiently shifting from foot to foot before stepping forward and knocking again. Exhaling harshly, you raise your fist to knock again. The door opens.
A very disgruntled Johnny stands before you, one hand wiping at his face. His hair is disheveled and you have the conscious thought that he must have just woken up, but your brain is flying a million miles a second and you don’t have time to spend worrying about if you’ve interrupted his beauty sleep. “Y/n?” Johnny yawns out, opening the door wider. “You were supposed to come over like 3 hours ago.” His sentence goes unfinished as you push past him, grabbing his wrist and dragging him to the living room. With your hands on his shoulders, you push him down to sit on the couch. He looks less tired and more confused now, which makes sense considering he’s never seen you act like this- you’re not even sure that you’ve ever acted like this- but he keeps silent, trusting you enough to tell him what the fuck is going on. He patiently puts his hands on his knees, watching you pace around the area.
It takes you a while to formulate exactly what to say to him. How exactly do you tell your best friend that you’ve been helping a ghost solve his own murder without him attempting to send you to a psych ward? After a few moments of pacing, in which you accidentally leave a trail of muddy footprints on Johnny’s carpet, you pause.
“This is going to sound insane.” You start, facing Johnny. He nods encouragingly, motioning for you to go on. “I need you to believe me. Promise me that you’ll hear me out until the very end.” Johnny nods. “No, I need you to promise me.” Maybe it’s how frantic your voice sounds, or the fact that you’re soaking wet and still breathing heavily from your run, but Johnny promises without hesitation. His voice is soft and his eyes are wide and you thank God for giving you such a good best friend. You search his eyes with your own, and finding nothing but encouragement and trust, you begin.
“Okay, so. You know those nightmares I’ve been having?” A nod. “Okay, so apparently there’s a ghost living in my house that’s been like, projecting their memories onto me.” Johnny blinks, not even trying to hide the skeptical look on his face. “Before you say anything, I know it sounds crazy. But ghosts are real. Jungwoo- Jungwoo’s real.” Johnny inhales sharply. “His name is Jungwoo?” 
“Yeah. He was murdered 4 years ago in my basement. My basement, Johnny.” You take a deep breath, shuddering. “Whoever did it is still out there, and Jungwoo thinks that his brother might be in danger.” You shift anxiously from foot to foot, hands wringing together in front of you until Johnny takes them into his own, thumbs rubbing over the backs of your hands to calm you. “I know it’s a lot to ask, but can you help me find him? I just need to make sure that he’s okay, and I know it’s silly that I promised a ghost but-” “I’ll help.” There’s a reassuring smile on Johnny’s face when he interrupts you, and you breath out in relief. “It’s okay, y/n. I believe you.”
You launch yourself forward into his arms, hugging him tightly. “Thank you, thank you, thank you. I don’t deserve you.” Johnny laughs. “Yeah, you don’t.” He pulls back from the hug long enough to look you in the eyes. “For right now, let's go to bed, yeah? You really look like you need some rest.”
~
“Okay, so here’s his address. I mean, I think it’s his address.” Johnny looks over your shoulder at the satellite image of Mark’s house, nodding. “We can get there in about two hours.” Johnny hums, stepping away from the computer. “I can get us there faster than that, don’t worry. C’mon, let’s have some coffee and then we can go.” He makes sure you eat something that actually has nutritional value before you go, even going as far as to pack a bag before you hit the road. Johnny does his best to reassure you throughout the drive, but you’re a nervous mess. You compulsively take sips from the water bottle Johnny had forced you to take with and it’s empty in no time, leaving you to drum your fingers along your thighs and squirm with a full bladder.
The house looks so much bigger, so much more foreboding in person. Johnny gives you a reassuring look and after a deep breath, you knock on the door. It takes a few seconds before it creaks open to reveal a man around your age peering at you through black-rimmed glasses that sit crookedly on his face. “Hello?” “Hi, Mark?” he nods, looking you up and down. “Do you have a moment to talk? I just have a few questions, it w-” He’s already moving to close the door before the sentence is even out of your mouth. “Wait, Mark!” You manage to wedge your foot in the door before it closes and he groans, rolling his eyes.
“Look, I’m really not in the mood to buy anything, so if you could just please-” He tries again. “It’s about your brother!” You exclaim, finally succeeding in getting Mark to listen. He freezes and stares down at you dumbly. His eyes stay on you for a little too long before lifting to look behind you. 
“Johnny?” Mark asks, eyes widening. “Is that you?” You look over to find Johnny standing behind you, a soft smile on his face. “Yeah, it’s me. How you doin, kid?”
Mark lets you into the house after tackling Johnny into a hug, offering you tea and a seat on the couch. “I didn’t know you knew Jungwoo,” You whisper to Johnny, watching Mark grab cups from the kitchen. 
Johnny shrugs. “Never had a reason to bring him up.” He definitely could’ve brought him up earlier, like when you mentioned you were seeing his ghost, but you brush it off as nothing. Maybe he didn’t want to upset you.
Mark returns, offering you each a cup of tea before taking a seat on the couch opposite you. “Wow, it’s been so long.” Mark laughs, clutching his tea for dear life. “It’s so good to see friends of Jungwoo’s again. It’s like, it’s not the same as seeing him but. It’s nice.”
“Good to see you too, Mark.” Johnny smiles. “I looked all over for you after Jungwoo’s death, but I couldn’t find you. When did you move?” Mark sniffs. “Um, I think like a month after it happened. They arrested the guy that killed him and I dipped. It was too painful to see all those little reminders of him everywhere.” Mark sniffs again, and wipes harshly at his eye. It makes you tear up a little too, thinking about how fondly Jungwoo talked about his brother, how unfair it is that they got ripped apart so soon. One phrase sticks out to you and you manage to reel yourself back in before you start crying too hard.
“Wait, they caught the guy? Do you know who killed him?” You side eye Johnny because he must have known that the killer was caught already, and it doesn’t make sense that he didn’t tell you considering that was the sole reason for this trip. 
“Um, well. Jungwoo uh, he had a sort of accident.” His hands are shaking, you notice. Some tea spills onto his leg. “He used to go out to all these parties and he swore he’d be safe but I guess he slipped up this one time.” Mark takes a deep breath and his voice cracks. “He was driving home from a party and he probably thought he was fine but he was way too drunk and he hit a pedestrian. He drove away but her boyfriend saw the whole thing and followed him.” Mark drops his head down and sobs a little.
Johnny moves to comfort him and Mark calms down after a few moments, skillfully changing the topic away from his dead brother. All the water that you drank in the car finally catches up to you and you excuse yourself for a second. Mark’s laughter rings clearly from the living room and you can’t help but to laugh too, smiling at Johnny’s ability to make everyone happy. You fix your hair in the mirror, a little spring in your step at the thought of being able to fulfill your promise to Jungwoo. 
You wish he was with you right now as you walk down the hallway back to the living room. There are so many pictures on the walls, Mark’s accomplishments framed proudly. It sends an ache through your heart that you’re here to see all of this by yourself. It’s only then, when you’re picturing Jungwoo exploring the house with you, that you realize how quiet it’s gotten. 
Frowning, you call out Johnny’s name. You get no response and call out again, finally catching movement out of the corner of your eye. “Johnny, why’d you sneak up on me?” A laugh leaves you when you turn to fully face him, cutting off only at the flash of color that slowly fades to black.
~
Your head is throbbing when you come to, vision taking a few seconds to clear up. A groan leaves you and you shake your head softly, coming face to face with Mark. A Mark whose mouth is covered with duct tape. You freeze, eyes widening, then look down to find that the rest of him is bound, too. “What-” 
Panic surges through you when you realize that your hands and ankles are bound too, and you jerk your head to the side, frantically searching to make sure that Johnny’s okay. You don’t find him. It’s only you and Mark in the room. “Johnny? Hey, whoever the fuck has us down here better leave Johnny the fuck alone!” You might currently be tied up, but the fact that your best friend is missing and potentially hurt overtakes any concern you may have for yourself. Mark’s eyes widen and he shakes his head frantically. You furrow your eyebrows and go to ask what he means, but you don’t get the chance.
“Oh, don’t worry. Johnny’s just fine.” The sentence comes from the man himself, standing right in front of the door. Relief fills you, turning to dread the second he closes the door and flips the lock. “You however…” “Johnny? What are you doing?” You ask, watching as he rolls his sleeves up to the elbow. 
He tips his head to the side, looking at you with confusion. “Isn’t it obvious?” The glint in his eyes matches the knife he picks up, the dim light catching on the shine of the blade. “For someone who apparently experienced Jungwoo’s death dozens of times, you should be able to figure it out.”
You blink once, twice, and then your eyes bug so far out of your head you worry they might fall out. A soft wheeze leaves you as your chest constricts, panic blooming in your gut. Johnny wheezes too, but his is a wheeze of laughter. He’s amused.
His eyes slide down to Mark, whose eyes are glimmering with fresh tears. “Did you know it was me Mark? Did you know it was me who killed your brother?” The boy shakes his head frantically, tears free-falling down his cheeks now. There’s some muffled cries that you think sound like no, but the tape traps them and makes him incomprehensible. “Really?” Johnny asks, stepping forward until he reaches Mark and then squatting down in front of him.
“Liar.” Johnny whispers, dragging the syllables out. The point of the knife presses into the boys throat, and while the noise Mark makes is barely audible, you can feel his suffering. There’s a tense moment as Johnny increases the pressure, Mark leaning backwards as far as he can to get away, before Johnny pulls it away. Mark exhales strongly, relaxing a little bit. He’s still crying. “It doesn’t matter, though.”
Tears would probably be rolling down your cheeks if you could process what was happening. But shock has taken ahold of you, and you can only watch helplessly as Johnny turns to glance back at you. “Thanks to y/n, now you’ll never get the chance to tell anyone.”
Johnny whips back around in record speed and slices the knife right through Mark’s throat. 
A scream leaves you and you fall forward, unable to do anything but watch in horror as the line in Mark’s neck wells with blood, the poor boy convulsing in horror. A wretched gurgling noise leaves him as he chokes and frantically gasps for air, made even worse by the duct tape over his mouth. Johnny sets the knife down delicately and uses that hand to pinch his fingers over Mark’s nose, effectively shutting off his air-flow. The fight drains out of Mark’s body along with his life, and it’s just a few more seconds before he stills completely. 
You can’t think of anything to say, can just gape at Mark’s body as Johnny lets go of him and the boy hits the floor. Johnny turns to you next, picking the knife back up. 
“It’s a shame you’re always so curious, y/n.” Johnny sighs, shaking his head. “You’re my best friend, I’m going to miss you.”
There’s the faintest breeze against your cheek bone, your hair blowing to tickle the back of your neck. You try your best not to shiver when it starts blowing against your wrists. It takes you a moment to realize that it’s not a draft from an open window, but it’s Jungwoo. He’s not visible, probably because he’s focusing his energy on freeing you. If Johnny notices anything wrong, he doesn’t say anything. Your wrists aren’t free yet, but you can feel the rope loosening. If you can buy yourself some more time…
“Why are you doing this? Why did you kill Jungwoo in the first place?” Your question obviously catches Johnny off guard and he stops walking, glancing off to the side and sighing softly. He seems to have an internal debate but then he shrugs, settling down on the floor across from you. It calms you a little to have him seated instead of looming over you, and you try your best to stay absolutely still.
When Johnny speaks, there’s a hint of regret in his voice. It’s hard to tell if it’s manufactured or not. “Jungwoo and I were best friends. We always had each others backs, always told each other everything. Ride or dies.” His eyes lower to his knife and he smears the blood around the blade with his thumb. “I was the one who hit the girl. I was drunk and it was stupid, but when I called Jungwoo to help me get rid of the body, he refused. He wanted to call the police, y/n. The police.” His eyes are brimming with tears now, and he looks up at you with an urgency that tells you to believe him. You don’t of course, and you can’t tell if he’s trying to convince you of his innocence, or himself. “My own best friend wanted to turn me in, y/n. I couldn’t let him do it.”
“How did you even get into my basement?” 
“You were at a training retreat in the mountains for that job you ended up hating that weekend. I knew that your house was empty and where the spare key was, plus I knew that no one ever went into your basement.” Johnny shrugs. “His body’s in the backyard, in case you were wondering. Buried him under the dahlias.” The red dahlias, your mothers favorite plant. How many times had she gone out to water and tend to the flowers, unknowing of the poor boy who lay beneath? Your breath catches in your throat and you finally can feel tears pricking the back of your eyelids. 
“You’re sick.” The sentence is barely above a whisper, but it carries enough weight with it. Johnny’s entire demeanor changes, his face twisting into an ugly scowl.
“I’m sick? I’m not the one that was going to betray my best friend by letting him rot in jail! How fucking dare you.” The ropes fall off of your wrists and you grab onto them to prevent them from hitting the ground and alerting Johnny. All that’s left is the rope on your ankle, and then you can make your move. “Yeah? Aren’t you betraying your best friend right now? Just like you did last time?” “I should’ve used the duct tape on you.” He murmurs, tightening his hold on the knife.
There’s enough give in the ropes that you can wiggle your ankles. You just need a few more seconds. “Why didn’t you?” “Ran out.” Johnny breathes, lunging at you. You squeak and roll to the side, groaning when your legs refuse to function. Sitting on them for so long made them feel like jelly and they tingle as the blood rushes back to your limbs. “What the- you little bitch.”
Johnny attacks again and you dodge yet again, doing nothing but rolling around and avoiding him. You definitely can’t beat him in a physical fight, but you can probably beat him in other ways.
Johnny’s breath catches in his throat. “J-Jungwoo?” He stops moving, obviously trying to process how someone who is clearly dead can stand in front of him. Unfortunately, his body doesn’t quite get the memo, and he trips over Mark’s form. A sickly thud resonates through the room as he falls, followed by a deafening silence. 
When Johnny doesn’t move for a few seconds, you step closer to examine him. The first thing you notice is that there’s a little stain under his chest that’s steadily getting bigger, contrasting starkly against the wooden floor. The second thing you notice is the acrid stench of blood, too strong for the small room you’re in. Third is the tip of the blade sticking out of his back. After checking his pulse and finding nothing, you roll him over. You find the hilt of his knife sticking out of his chest and your breath catches in your throat. He must’ve landed on it when he tripped. You slump against the wall and try to catch your breath, staring at Johnny’s limp body and waiting for him to lunge at you. 
He never does. You look up to say thank you to Jungwoo, but you don’t get a chance. He looks right at his brother’s limp body and disappears, leaving you alone in the room.
You sleep as much as you can, hoping that Jungwoo will pop up in your dreams again. You cry when you sleep and you cry when you wake, until you get to the point where your eyes burn and your face swells and you can’t physically cry anymore. You cry until you’re exhausted and yet you can’t sleep, can only frustratingly toss and turn and scream silently through your raw throat, praying to a god that you don’t believe in to let you see Jungwoo, just one more time. That’s all you need. Just one more time to say goodbye.
Promises are mumbled into your pillow and chanted in your mind but there’s only so much you can do to keep them. You swear to never forget Jungwoo but the words are meaningless and do nothing to stop his face from fading. Slowly, his features become less clear in your mind, his laugh blending with countless others until you can’t differentiate them. You get him a proper grave in a cemetery, and you go from visiting his grave every day to going every few days, until weeks pass before you remember you wanted to leave flowers for him. The flowers last even less than your promises, wilting and rotting on the stone, becoming a sadly unrecognizable mess. You do your best to clean it, and you cry so hard the first time you see the mess that you almost black out, but it’s now a sight that doesn’t even phase you.
Time doesn’t stop to wait for you. It’s not long before you finish grad school and get a job offer in a city 1500 miles away, much different from this one. Your sister drives down to help you pack, easily helping you throw things that you need into a suitcase and counteracting your hoarding tendencies. Something catches your eye just as you’re leaving and you pick it up, frowning at the little resin flower. 
“What’s that?” your sister asks, leaning in over your shoulder. “Is that a dahlia?”
“I don’t know.” you furrow your eyebrows, trying to place why it seems so familiar, before shrugging. It makes a hollow sound when you toss it into the trash that seems to echo much too loud for such a tiny object.
She heaves your suitcase into your arms. “Ready?”
“Yeah. Let’s go.”
You don’t look back.
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buckysgoldenheart · 4 years
Text
How to Piss Him Off
Jealous Henry x Reader
Summary: Henry makes you go to a party you never wanted to, and it makes you feel like crap, so you make some choices that has Henry getting upset fast.
Words: 3495
Warnings: Cursing, basic quick smut, jealousy, general sassiness.
Notes: I messed with this story so much I now hate it, so I don’t even know if anyone will actually like it but let me know if you do. It’d probably make me feel better about how much I fiddled with it and how long it took :’D
Needs serious editing at some point.
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You hated parties. Why would you go to a party when you could be home reading or playing video games while gorging yourself on junk food? That would be so much better than being surrounded by a forty or fifty intoxicated and horny people.
You were dragged kicking and screaming like an eight-year old, just to be forced to watch some drunk woman in a slutty dress rub herself all up against your friend. It made you all the more thankful for the amount of alcohol the party—whoever’s it was—provided, because while Henry didn’t exactly look comfortable with the situation he was in, he certainly wasn’t shoving that girl off of him. So, you would drink until the spectacle in front of you turned so blurry you couldn’t tell who was grinding on who.
When Henry’s hand eventually found her waist, you unglued your eyes and turned to refresh your drink. A guy in front of you chuckled as you filled the plastic red cup to the brim, took a sip, then poured more to replace the amount lost. You looked up at him sheepishly, but all he did was beam back at you, his bright, green eyes shining and white teeth showing. It did something to you; twisted your stomach, sent shocks to your core, made your breath hitch. He was so hot, it almost made you push Henry to the back of your mind.
You smiled a little more confidently. “Sorry, is this your party? I’m not trying to drink all of your alcohol.”
He laughed, took a long drink of his beer and shook his head. “Not my party. Drink up.”
“Whose is it?”
“Oh, I have no idea. Just here to take what is freely given.” He gestured to the snacks and drinks surrounding him. You chuckled and he asked your name.
“Y/N,” You said, then for some reason, blushed.
He stuck his hand out in your direction and you took it. “I’m Aaron.” When you tried to pull your hand away, he held on tighter. “Do you want to go somewhere quieter? It’s hard to talk here.”
You considered for a moment. He was right, the music and over-packed room did make it difficult to have a decent conversation, but something inside of you didn’t want to leave Henry with a woman that clearly wanted to fuck him. Though, what did it matter. It was not as if staring at him from a distance would keep him from getting in her pants, so you looked back at Aaron and nodded.
He led you away, down a hallway, to what seemed like a second living room with only a few other partiers inside. The small group lounged on couches and armchairs, drunkenly discussing their various existential crises. Aaron snickered at them and sat on the love-seat in the back of the room and, with a tug of your hand, you fell on it beside him.
You both awkwardly looked around the room, blue and purple light bulbs giving it a soothing glow, while Aaron sneaked his arm along the back of the small couch behind your head. Your body was already so close to his, all he would have to do is wrap that arm around your shoulders and you would practically be in his lap.
“So,” He began, drawing your eyes to his. His face was so close, lips barely three inches away, and you couldn’t help but notice how he kept looking at yours. “Tell me about yourself.”
So, you did. In exchange, he told you about his life, and you found yourself enjoying his company more than you expected. You laughed more than you thought you would. And at some point, your legs had draped over his lap and his hand was rubbing up and down your bare thigh, slowly pushing up your skirt with each stroke along your skin. You knew what he was doing, and you didn’t mind it. The least it would do was keep your thoughts off Henry probably getting his dick sucked in some other room of the house.
His fingers finally slipped under the hem of the velvety fabric and grazed your covered core; the thin, lacy material doing very little to lessen the sensation of his touch. You gasped and he looked at you in silent question. When you nodded, he grabbed your waist and pulled you to him until you straddled his hips.
You put your hands on the sides of his face and slammed your lips to his as his burning touch ran up and down your spine. A moan erupted from the both of you, tingling your lips, as he grew harder beneath you and you ground your hips down. You shoved a hand between your bodies to his belt buckle, trying your best to undo it. Thankfully, the crisis group had left a half hour before because you had no intention of moving to a bedroom. You needed this. You needed to forget Henry, at least for one night.
Just as Aaron put his hand on the back of your neck to kiss you harder, you were yanked up and off his body. Aaron opened his eyes, confused, much like you were, as to why Henry’s large hand now gripped your upper arm.
“Henry, what the fuck!” You yelled as he glared down at Aaron buckling his belt.
“We are going home,” Henry demanded through gritted teeth, looking at you in a way he never had before.
“What? No, I—”
Aaron stood fast, his eyes darting between you and Henry. “Woah, buddy, let her go. She clearly wants to stay.” When he reached a hand out to pull you back to him, Henry lightly yanked you further away.
You jerked your arm in a weak attempt at freedom. “Yea, I want to stay!”
“No! You are drunk. Let’s go!”
Aaron shook his head and gave you a sympathetic smile. “Your bodyguard is intense, sweetness.”
You huffed and tried once again to shove Henry’s hand off you. “Tell me about it. Get off!”
When Aaron stepped to you, you thought he was going to try and kiss you, but instead he leaned down to whisper his last name in your ear and brushed your cheek with his knuckle. “Look me up, yea? I’d love to see you again.”
You giggled and agreed before Aaron walked past you, smirking at Henry and harshly bumping his shoulder on his way out the door. Henry whipped you around to face him.
“Get your stuff.”
“I didn’t bring anything,” You sneered.
“Then go,” He said, slightly pushing you in front of him. “March it!”
---------
Outside, Henry stared at you, waiting, though his patience was running thin. “Y/N, get in the car.” You frowned at him and crossed your arms, prompting a hefty groan from Henry. He took a deep breath and tried a little softer. “Y/N, Please, get in the car. Please.”
Rolling your eyes, you relented and sat yourself in the leather seat. Henry shut the door hard enough that it made you jump, stomped to his side and drove down the long driveway. You didn’t talk until he passed the exit that would take you to your house. “I thought you were taking me home.”
“You’re too drunk to be alone.”
You leaned your head against the window. “I’m not that drunk.”
“Yes, you are.”
“No, I’m not!”
He looked at you, eyebrows drawn together. “Oh, yea? You normally dry hump strangers in a secluded room at a party, do you?”
You watched out the window as he parked the car in front of his house, then met his eyes. “I do what I want, when I want, and tonight I wanted to dry hump a stranger in a secluded room at a party where the only person I know abandoned me to get grinded up against.”
His grip on the steering wheel turned his knuckles white, but then he got out of the car, went to your side, and opened the door for you. You ignored the hand he extended to you and marched to the front door of his house.
As you stepped into the foyer, Henry threw his keys on the side table, and you took in the room. “Where is Kal?”
“At a friend’s,” He said, walking to the kitchen. When he came back, he shoved a glass of water in your direction. “Drink.”
You rolled your eyes but did as he asked. Both your hands wrapped around the cup as you glared at him over the rim. When not a drop was left, he took the glass and turned back to the kitchen. “Go upstairs and go to bed.”
Your jaw dropped. “Excuse me?”
“Go upstairs—” He began again as he returned to the room.
“Oh, I heard you. I’m just trying to figure out how you have the audacity to tell me what to do.”
Henry sighed. “Y/N, will you please—”
“No! What the hell happened back there? What the fuck did you think you were doing, huh?
“I was protecting you.”
“From what? A hot guy whose tongue I was more than happy to have down my throat? Protecting me from something I wanted to do?”
He clenched his teeth and swallowed hard. “Stop it.”
“Stop what? Did you think I didn’t want him? If I recall correctly, I was on top of him.”
“Stop! Y/N, you did not want to have sex with him!”
“Oh please,” You scoffed. “I’m not that drunk, Henry. I’m barely tipsy. I knew what I was doing. But, fuck, I don’t know why I’m surprised you got in the way. For the last year, every man I’ve met you’ve practically chased away with a pitchfork.”
“Go. To. Bed!”
“Don’t. Test. Me!” You yelled, “God, you are unbeliev—”
Before you could finish, Henry had put his hands on your cheeks, pulled you in, and kissed you. Your eyes went wide at the feel of his mouth on yours and how firmly he held you close, keeping you from escaping. It sucked the air from your lungs, and you were so temped to give in to him, to wrap your arms around him, part your lips, and let his tongue slip between them. If only he hadn’t been such an ass.
You quickly put your hands on his chest and shoved. He stumbled back a couple steps, your weaker strength somehow enough to overpower him. The look on his face, the shame of doing what he had, was unable to be masked.
“Are you fucking kidding me?”
Henry winced at your tone. “Y/N—”
“ARE YOU FUCKING KIDDING ME?”
He said nothing as the remnants of your words echoed around the large room.  
You shook your head to yourself. “I’m going home.”
He quickly grabbed your hand as you hurriedly walked past him, and you frowned again at the grip on your wrist. Looking up at him, all you could see was pain in every feature of his face, in every bit of the blue in his eyes. “No, Y/N, please don’t. Stay. I’m sorry.”
The desperation killed you. His voice broke around the words, and his grip, though appearing rough, was light and soft. He would let you leave if you wanted, he just hoped you wouldn’t.
“Fine. Explain.”
He released you and rubbed the back of his neck. “I just…I don’t…fuck, I…”
“Ok, I’m leaving.”
“I love you,” He said to your back.
You died. Or some part of you did. Your heart, maybe; possibly your brain, for you weren’t sure you heard correctly. You couldn’t take another step, shoes somehow glued to their spot on the floor.
His hands on your shoulders had you looking in his eyes again. “I tried not to, ok. I swear I gave it my best shot. I didn’t want to ruin anything between us, but I couldn’t help it.” You felt his fingers trail down your arms until he could lightly squeeze your hands. “I’m sorry.”
Everything inside you was screaming, but you could only manage a whisper. “H-How long?”
Henry sighed and closed his eyes. “A year.” You stepped back and jerked your hands from his hold, but his still reached out, chasing the touch you so briefly allowed him. “I know…I’m sor—”
“Stop apologizing. Just…stop.”
He might’ve said something after that, but you couldn’t tell. His words had started to fade, and your vision was turning fuzzy as your brain tried to focus on your thoughts and how they were beginning to consume you. You loved him. It had been months of agony and anxiety and pure pain every time you saw someone else fawning over him. Then he does this, and suddenly you want to wail and throw a brick at a wall, or punch him in the chest before sobbing into it with his arms around you. It was too much. You had never done well with an overstimulation of emotions; they made you want to collapse and sink into the floor.
You took a deep breath, slowly exhaling like your mother had taught you, and said, “You’re right, I should go to bed.”
He looked at you like you had grown an extra limb, but you didn’t miss how the sadness in his eyes remained. Without a word, you turned on your heel and hiked up the stairs to the guest bedroom you had stayed in many times before. Moments after you closed the door, you heard a groan from below and the unmistakable sound of glass shattering against a wall.
---------
You couldn’t sleep. You didn’t even know why you bothered to try. Every hour felt like a month, and the more exhausted you became, the more your body felt like it had just trudged through miles of thick, solidifying mud; but your mind was vigorously racing with your heart. It was agonizing, and you couldn’t take it.
Rubbing your hands over your face, you dug the base of your palms in your eyes, and with an agitated whimper, threw the covers over your legs.
Henry’s room was just down the hall to the left, and without knocking, you eased the door open and stepped inside. He was so beautiful when he slept, but something worried him; you could see it by the little crease between his brows. You wanted to make it stop, to soothe his features.
You lifted the corner of his comforter and sneaked underneath it, wiggling your body close to his until not even an ant could fit between you. Facing each other, you brushed his hair back from his face then stroked his cheek where scruff was staring to grow. His eyebrows scrunched together at your touch and his body shifted under the covers.
Before he could fully wake, you leaned forward to softly press your lips to his, and after a moment, his arm wrapped strongly around you and forced what little oxygen you had left out of your lungs. You moaned when he kissed you back, sucking your bottom lip with a small bite before pushing his tongue in your mouth.
He made a small grunting sound as if suddenly coming to his senses, then broke your kiss and opened his eyes. “Y/N, what are you doing?” He whispered. There was a note of worry in his voice as if he thought you might regret your actions come morning, so you softly shushed him and ran a finger along the curve of his razor-sharp jaw. A look of uncertainty came over his face, but then you kissed him again.
He rolled on top of you without a second thought and you slid your hands down his chest before slipping one in his sweatpants. When you wrapped your fingers around his cock, he moaned and began to gently thrust into the warmth of your palm. 
“Are you sure,” He asked, nudging his nose against yours.
With your free hand, your fingers wound into his hair and gently tugged. “Yes.”
Henry groaned and slammed his lips to yours again. He pushed his sweatpants down passed his ass just enough to let his cock spring free, bunched the hem of the oversized t-shirt you wore up to your navel, then edged your panties to the side and slammed himself inside you. You both gasped.
“Fuck,” He mumbled as he dipped his head into the curve of your neck and started pressing kisses on your sensitive skin. He bit your shoulder when you lifted your hips, silently begging him to move, then painfully slowly started to thrust in and out of you. “You are so…perfect.”
A tear slipped down your cheek as you wrapped your arms around his broad shoulders. You had never been put through a whirlwind of emotions all in a single day. You had never felt this wanted. You had never loved someone the way you did him, and every bit of it flooded you until it had no choice but to spill out somewhere.
“God, I love you,” He whispered before kissing right under your ear. His lips trailed along your jaw and he licked away the saltiness of your tears.
You tried to speak, but all you could manage was a whimper as your walls began to clench harder around his cock. Each shove inside of you reached deeper than the last and you felt it bringing you closer and closer to your release.
Tangling your fingers in his hair, you pulled his face back so you could connect your lips and curl your tongue around his. His kissed you long and slow, drawing each second out as if you wouldn’t allow him the chance again if that kiss broke, and something about it ached a spot in your heart. All you wanted was to reassure him, so you separated a hairs width. “Henry…I love you.”.
Blue eyes seemed to brighten, and his lips parted. A quick breath puffed against your face and you inhaled him as he started to pound into you harder until you came with a sharp cry and a whimper of his name, your walls milking him until he spilled himself inside you with groan.
His massive, muscled body collapsed on top of yours, but you didn’t want him to move. Even as you felt him begin to soften inside of you, you refused to separate your bodies, so you wrapped your arms snugly around him.
“You love me?” He asked, lifting his head from the curve of your neck and staring into your eyes.
Swallowing once and nodding, you moved your hands to either sides of his cheeks, and said, “I have for months. I just…”
Henry touched his forehead to yours and let out a clearly disappointed sigh. “We both wasted all this time pretending.”
“We’ll lose our minds thinking about it too much,” You said and tilted your lips up to press them to his, pulling a small groan from his chest before he rolled on his back with your body flat on top of his. “Henry, I’m so sorry about what happened at the party. That guy—”
Henry’s grin had you pausing as he rubbed at his forehead.
You cocked your head to the side. Smiling at the reminder of you all over another man was not what you expected. “What?”
“You’re sorry,” He said, sifting his fingers through the waves of your hair. “Sweetheart, that is the last thing you should be. I’m the one who made an idiot of myself. I just…” He took a breath, “I got sick of this girl not leaving me alone and all I wanted was to find you, but when I did, that guy had his hands and mouth all over you and I…lost it.”
With a soft smile, you ran your index finger over his bottom lip. “How about we just called it even, yea?”
Henry hummed, unsatisfied with that decision, but at the playful look on your face he surrendered. One of many things he loved about you: holding grudges was not something you cared to have much experience with. “Fine. If…”
“If…?”
“If you move in with me.”
“What!” In your shock, your body jolted upright, but you found yourself held tight by a pair of thick arms around your waist.
“You stay here all the time anyway. You’ll just sleep in my bed now, not the guest. And the lease is almost up at your place.”
An awkward laugh passed your lips. “Henry…”
“You’re smiling. You can’t lie to me now.”
You rested your forehead against his chest with a light groan. Henry chuckled at the sound, and the rumble in his chest soothed you to no end. “You’ve lost your mind.”
“Maybe,” He replied, and you looked up at him. “But I want you here, with me. So, what do you think?”
With a quick, deep breath, you shook your head. But then you smiled and said, “…Yes.”
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perriewinklenerdie · 4 years
Text
Don’t you leave me right here (Ethan Ramsey x MC)
Open Heart, Ethan Ramsey x MC
A/N:  Hi guys! ARE WE ALIVE? PB DELIVERED, PERIOD. I haven't felt this on the edge of my motherf'n seat. This fic is a rewrite of the diamond scene in Chapter 11 plus my own spin on it and the aftermath because I have no self control.
Tag list: @paleweasels, @kittykatchoices, @valiantlychaoticbarbarian, @radlovedreamer , @usuallyamazinglyaverage, @awhmilkywey @palestazure, @cordoniaqueensworld, @universallypizzataco, @princess-geek, @faithhasnowords, @mightyfangirlofthefandoms, @drakewalkerfantasy, @timmagicktoad, @laceandlula, @greywitchyshots, @llamasgrl, @gingerjane15, @marywrites-things , @ethanplaysfavorites , @mfackenthal , @betelgeusebee , @simsvetements, @buzz-bee-buzz, @owleyes374, @cora-nova, @aworldoffandoms, @l822, @cream-ray, @ughhhxjazzy, @silverlitskies, @justendlesssummerfeels, @togetherwearerapture, @desmaranj, @edgiestwinter, @friedherringclodthing, @waytooattuned, @choicesgremlin , @lapisreviewsstuff, @the-soot-sprite, @writerapprentice, @chasingrobbie, @choicesobsessedd, @x-kyne-x, @thisperfectmemory, @drakewalker04, @rookie-ramsey, @jlynn12273, @thepinknymph @dr-brianna-casey-valentine, @a-i-n-a-a-s-h @justanotherrookie @mvalentine @starrystarrytrouble @akshara16 @maurine07
  Enjoy! <3
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Ethan’s eyes haven’t left hers since he entered the room. Now, sitting next to her, she could see, clearer than ever, the desperation and panic, etched into them deeply, following him like a shadow. Her words had a clear effect on him, shocking him into silence, drawing the quietness around them out into what seemed to be infinity. When he spoke again, his voice was heavy with emotions, but his eyes were still firmly focused on her, never straying, holding all of his hopes and dreams.
“Since we’re sharing regrets, do you mind if I share one of mine?”
The question took her by surprise. Ethan was never a man to openly express his feelings, or regrets for that matter, and she could almost feel the change in his behavior, in his approach to the situation they were currently in, as though fate gave him a sudden shove into the direction he was eyeing for quite some time now, but was too terrified to pursue.
“Go ahead.” Claire nodded slowly, her movements expressing how tired and sore she felt, toxin draining her faster than any of them anticipated. He took her bare hand into his gloved one, deep regret striking him painfully when he didn’t feel her skin upon contact. The electricity he learned to anticipate, hell, welcome with every time they touched, wasn’t as intense, his brain relying on the memory of her closeness to induce the same sensation.
“I wish I hadn’t asked you to stay away.” he admitted quietly, lowering his head in shame slightly. Her tired face twisted in confusion and surprise, taking in the new information, the one she was waiting for, the words she wanted to hear so many times before.
“You do?”
“We’ve wasted so much time.” Ethan paused, his eyes becoming a shade darker to accommodate his growing shame and pain. Shaking his head, he rephrased. “I’ve wasted so much time.” His hold on her hand tightened, as though he could pass through it all that he was feeling. He was never good with his words when it came to her, only moments of brilliance here and there; she was always better at this than him. But now, he couldn’t run; he didn’t want to run. “I should have held you in my arms every single day and told you how much I-“
His voice broke. Unable to bring himself to say a word, he took a deep breath, searching her green eyes for anything that would tell him that she would make it, that it wouldn’t be the last time they were talking, that he would have the opportunity to do this properly. She deserved to be confessed to properly, not when fear was running through his veins and panic was making him talk like he’s never talked before.
“How much I care about you.”
A bright smile lit up her face, and to Ethan, she looked as though the whole massacre of the past day didn’t happen. To him, she was as beautiful as ever. Her fingers squeezed his in excitement, dimmed by the lack of energy. “I’ve always thought we should be together.”
“You have?” he chuckled, running his thumb over her knuckles. She nodded, grinning like she always did.
“Kind of thought it was obvious, actually. We were always drawn to each other, from day one.”
“I’d hate to presume anything.” He felt himself relaxing, falling into the comfort of their day to day bickering, feeling like he was coming home. And in a sense, he was. Somewhere between him trying to run from her and now, they built a safe place for one another, without realizing it, always being pulled towards each other in times of need. “Though… that feeling was very definitely mutual.”
Ethan’s hold on her hand became tighter, expressing his excitement. The smile that lit up his face must have been the biggest she’s ever seen to this date; he’s never been happier than in that exact moment. Claire’s face fell in disappointment, longing spelled out all over it. “I wish I could kiss you.”
“Soon. You will soon.” He promised, partly to her, and partly to himself, making himself swear to never let her get away again. Guilt was eating him alive, driving him mad, making him want to kick himself for being a fool for so long. “Claire? What’s wrong?” he immediately asked when he saw her expression change into a pensive one once more.
“It just hit me that Rafael might be the last real human contact I ever get to have, not through plastic.” She took the plastic surrounding his wrist between her two fingers, rubbing the material between them. His head told him to reassure her, but his heart couldn’t stand to be that far away from her, even if the suit was still separating them.
He moved from his chair, sitting down next to her, and wrapping his arms around her, pulling her to him; not as close as he’d like, but it would have to do. “Look at me.” he said, trying to keep his voice level, letting the emotions take control after some time. Their eyes met, same emotions reflected in them. “You can’t think like that. You can’t give up.”
His soft gaze made her feel as though she could almost touch him, through all the layers of thick plastic. Rip apart the barriers that kept them away from each other, hold onto him and never let him go again.
“But I can kiss you… sort of.” her voice was raspy when she said those words, her hand already raising his until she could press her lips to his knuckles, shielded away from her. He cupped her chin, stroking the line of her cheekbone with his thumb tenderly. He muttered her name, softly and quietly, trying to find the words for the impossible situation they’ve found themselves in, but found none.
With his hold on her never wavering, he maneuvered them into the horizontal position, allowing her head to rest, her eyelids drooping against her will slightly. Their gazes were still locked, like they were since the moment he stepped inside her realm of isolation, and they remained that way until she fell deeper into his embrace, nuzzling her face against his chest with a ragged breath.
“I’m glad I at least got to hold you one last time…” she muttered, inhaling the clean scent of the room they were in. His hold on her tightened, expressing how much he wanted to be confident in his own words.
“This isn’t the last time, Claire. I promise you that.”
--------------
He was right. In the morning, her friends arrived with the cure, and hours later, she was showered and recovering in her very own, new and clean, room, taking every opportunity she had to rest. Her flatmates came by, but couldn’t stay for long, with their shifts starting soon. One person that was by her side every moment he could, was Ethan.
He visited her more times than a boss checking up on his colleague would be deemed appropriate, but he didn’t care. When he asked Sienna, earning himself a teasing grin from her in the process, he learned that none of their coworkers noticed or cared about him and Claire being close, the information being the last push he needed to spend as much time with her as he could or wanted.
The first time he visited, he lingered in the doorframe, watching her with a vulnerable and timid smile. She turned her head at the feeling of a slight heat on the side of her face, her eyes brighter at the sight of him. She beckoned him to sit next to her, neither of them saying anything yet.
His hand was shaking when he took hers gently, unable to believe that they were able to touch each other again, that she made it through and that they still had a chance. After last night, not much was left unsaid and they both knew where their feelings were placed. They still had a long way to go, but Ethan was ready to take the leap, follow her wherever she wanted to take him.
“How are you feeling?” he asked, tangling and detangling their fingers nervously. Claire stretched a bit, sitting up in her bed.
“I’m much better now. Headache is letting up too.” He placed his other hand on her forehead, his cool skin meeting her slightly warmer one. A small moan escaped her lips as her eyes fell shut. “Now that is perfect.”
“Yeah?” he laughed, looking at her with utmost adoration. She nodded, breathing in and out deeply. When she gazed at him again, their faces were much closer than she remembered them to be. Her first instinct was to lean away, expecting him to do the same, as they were in the hospital and anyone could walk in on them. Their only ally was the fact that the room didn’t have a window, so one would have to open the door to actually see what was happening inside.
But he didn’t do that. After coming so close to losing her, every moment with her felt precious, and he had every intention of savoring it. The heat of her body, the scent of her shampoo, the comfort of simply talking to her and being by her side. Yesterday’s Ethan Ramsey would keep his distance and maintain a professional front, even if it hurt him. The new Ethan Ramsey simply didn’t care anymore. Or, rather, he cared more than he used to be able to admit. He’s spent past months wallowing in regret and drowning in endless ocean of what-ifs. To say that he was tired of his own rules would be an understatement.
Ethan pressed a soothing kiss to the inside of her wrist, whispering softly, his voice full of pain. “You don’t even know…” he trailed off, his voice breaking for a split second before he composed himself again, taking a deep breath to ground himself.
“I know.”
It became their routine. For the next five days, she would wake up just in time to see him walking through the door, two steaming cups in his hands, one coffee and one tea. Once she was cleared to eat normal food again, he also began bringing meals he’s spent every evening and half of his nights making, both of them talking quietly while eating.
“You’re going to spoil me too much with all this delicious food. How am I supposed to move back to eating instant ramen?” she gasped dramatically, her grin growing even wider when he smirked.
“You could always eat dinner with me. I wouldn’t complain.” He pointed out, words leaving his lips before his mind could filter them. He really wouldn’t mind if she agreed to spend more time with him. His own bold words made a wave of excitement run down his spine, endorphins rushing through his bloodstream. Her eyebrow shot up teasingly, making him sweat for her answer until, eventually, she nodded, so happy she could probably emit light.
“Is that a date, then?” her voice betrayed how nervous but hopeful she was. The same euphoric expression appeared on his face, just like it did a few nights ago; he decided, right then and there, that he’s been longing to feel like this for a long time. Since the moment the thought of them being together became a possibility, in fact. This feeling of fullness, of being exactly where he wanted to be.
“It’s whatever you want it to be, Claire. Though, I won’t lie, I would very much like to take you out on a proper date once you’re fully recovered.” He kissed her cheek, his eyes holding the streak of vulnerability when he leaned away. “And I’d like to be there for you in the meantime.”
They both visibly relaxed, tension leaving their bodies as they fell into their each other’s arms, the embrace warm, as tight as he dared to hold her given the circumstances, carrying the desperation that seemed to still have them in its hold.
“I’d like that very much.” she muttered, her words muffled by the material of his white coat, pressed against her lips.
------------
“Dr. Trinh, may I speak to you?” he called out, probably a bit louder than he should, a few interns stopping in their tracks, terrified and feeling sorry for the resident. Sienna, however, kept her face neutral as she followed the attending to his office, observing his face carefully, trying to decipher what could this possibly be about. As soon as the door closed and he got visibly got nervous, she had her answer.
“How are things going with Claire?” she asked lightly, cocking her head to the side when his gaze hardened for a second, coming to his senses immediately after he remembered their conversation a few days back. He cleared his throat before answering.
“I’d like to believe they’re good. Going in the right direction too. That’s actually why I asked you here.” He guided her towards the seat by his desk, twisting his fingers anxiously. “Claire is getting discharged today. We talked about me picking her up, and she suggested staying at my apartment, but I think she’d be more comfortable in her out home, in her own bed. Surrounded by things she knows.”
“No offense, Dr. Ramsey, but I’m pretty sure she knows your apartment pretty well too.” She giggled when a furious blush started creeping up his neck, unable to disagree with what she said. “But besides that, what is it that you’re asking me here?”
“I don’t want to be an inconvenience to you, and I’ll understand if you’re unable to help me, but I thought I’d ask.” He stumbled over his words, the whole premise causing him to lose the ability to think clearly. “Would it be possible for Claire and I to- uh…”
“Watching you stumble over your words is an unusual sight, I must say. Are you asking me if we could spend the night somewhere else so that the two of you could have the freedom to talk?” she made it easier for him, sensing his cry for help in the way he talked.
“Yes.” He blurted out, shocked at his own forwardness. “There are some things we need to discuss. I just want her to be as comfortable as possible.”
“We just so happen to have wanted a sleepover at Bryce’s place. What a coincidence, huh?” she smiled enigmatically, then took her phone and sent the message to the rest of her flatmates excluding Claire. Minutes later they had their answer. “We’ll leave the house at six thirty. Claire has the keys. Good luck, Dr. Ramsey.”
He breathed a sigh of relief, smiling to himself as he fell deeper into his chair. All that was left to do was get through the rest of the day, get her discharged and hope for the best.
------------
“Come on, let’s get you home.” He greeted her, waving a stack of papers in his hand. Claire’s eyes widened in excitement, swinging her legs over the side of the bed almost immediately.
“You’re kidding.”
“When do I ever joke, Dr. Herondale.” His features hardened momentarily, only to melt into the teasing smile right after.
“Ooh, so serious and professional.” she joked, walking over to him slowly. Her hand brushed against his, sparks flying up their arms. “I haven’t been to your apartment in a while.”
“Actually, I’m taking you back to your place.” He picked up her bag, turning to look at her. Her mouth opened in surprise and confusion, unsure what he was talking about.
“I thought you wanted to keep an eye on me.” she muttered, her spirit falling as her hopes for the evening began to fall apart.
“I still intend to do that. I just think that you’d be more comfortable in your own space, your own home and bed.” Ethan felt his cheeks reddening, holding his breath while waiting for her answer.
“Are you sure that you want to spend the night with all my flatmates? I wouldn’t mind if it weren’t for the fact that I… kinda hoped to be alone with you.”
“Oh, really?” he smirked, wrapping his arm around her waist and pressing them against each other gently. “Then I guess it’s good that they’re sleeping at Bryce’s place tonight.” He watched how the corners of her lips went up and up, forming a charming smile, a quiet question hanging between them. “I asked Sienna if she could arrange it. I think she wants us to talk.”
“She does, I have no doubt about that.” Claire’s feet moved on their own, bringing her even closer to him, stopping just as they were breathing the same air. Her gaze strayed from his eyes to his lips, staring at them shamelessly. “Take me home, then.”
Ethan offered her his arm, a warm sensation spreading in his chest when he felt her touch, firm and trusting. Gripping the bag in his other hand, they moved towards the exit, making sure to leave her discharge papers at the nurse’s station.
He held her hand throughout the whole way to her apartment, and even when they walked towards the elevator, he still wouldn’t let her get too far away. There was an intense need in every move he made towards her; she noticed it on the very first day after she was cured. His touch was lingering, his hands gripping hers for a moment longer than usual. His gaze swallowed her whole. His kisses that never reached her lips, no matter how much both of them wanted it, were tender but with underlying strength to them, fueling them both for the next couple of hours until they would meet again.
Claire dug up her keys from her purse, opening the door to let them in. Ethan set the bag down on the floor next to the entrance to her room, turning to look at her. She remained by the front door, hands folded behind her back, looking at him with the intensity that made him fall apart. With each step she took towards him, his heartbeat got faster, his senses gained sharpness, tuning into her frequency.
“What’s your plan?” she asked, taking one of the buttons of his sweater into her grasp, rolling it between her fingers. It was a genuine question, but she would be lying if she said that she didn’t mean to tease him. They were like that, always toeing the line, crossing it over and over again.
“You’re in control here, Claire. You tell me.”
“I’d kill for a shower. I would ask you to make yourself comfortable but…” she stepped on her tiptoes, her lips a mere inch away from his ear. “… you can always join me.”
He almost choked on air, his breath kicked out of his lungs at her suggestion. She kissed his cheek, giggling when she leaned away, seeing his face slightly redder than before. Figuring out that, at least to some extent, she was teasing him, he relaxed a bit, running his hand up and down her arm. “You go ahead and do that, and I’ll try to think of something to cook.”
With that, they separated for the next thirty minutes. She left the door slightly open in case something happened, or they needed to talk, their strategy from Miami still working wonders. Ethan managed to get the food cooked and waiting for them in twenty minutes, deciding to wait for her, sitting on the couch and observing the sun that was barely visible over the horizon.
He’s thought in depth about what he wanted to tell her. He knew what he wanted to tell her, so many sleepless nights spent on thinking of her, or rather, trying not to think of her. There always was a part of him that knew that all his desperate attempts at keeping his distance, pushing her away and denying what was so obviously in front of him, would fall short. He refused to believe it at the time, but here he was now.
The sound of the door closing and soft footsteps on the floor pulled him back into reality. Just as he was turning his head to look at her, she sat down, straddling him, her hands on both sides of his face, and the next thing he knew, her lips were touching his in a heated kiss. Surprised only for a moment, he placed his hands just above her hips, kissing her back with as much desperation and fire. She had her many ways of stealing his breath, but this one was one of his favorites.
She lowered herself onto his lap even more, a soft sigh escaping her lips at the contact. Ethan tried to keep his reactions at bay, letting her take over, giving himself over to her just as much as he was taking from her. He could feel her smile, his head leaning back a bit when her fingers pulled on his strands, a helpless moan echoing in the air.
He wasn’t able to tell how much time has passed, losing himself in her completely. Moving his hands to her face, he brushed her hair away, their eyes locked tightly as they stared at each other in utter silence. Water was dripping from the strands of her blonde hair, soaking his sweater and the T-shirt she was wearing. Ethan only now noticed that it was strangely familiar.
“How did you get ahold of my T-shirt?” he laughed, welcoming the sight of her in his clothes with familiarity he didn’t know he longed for. It barely covered her thighs, in their current position the material being bunched up around her hips, exposing a bit of her panties to his touch when his hands were holding her in place.
“A girl’s gotta have her secrets.” She echoed her own words from the very first day they met, his eyes sparking up in recognition. “Besides, we both know I look better in it anyway.”
They enjoyed their dinner, conversing quietly about anything other than the past couple of days or work. Ethan wanted her to relax, not think about her workload (which was already taken care of) or the horrific circumstances that led to her needing her rest in the first place. Once they moved back to the couch, Ethan having changed into more comfortable clothes, the blanket covering their legs, the conversation continuing. The biggest manifest of how comfortable they were with one another was all written in their moves, his arm draped over the back of the couch, his fingers playing with her hair while she inspected the lines of his other hand absentmindedly.
Suddenly, his smile dimmed, his shoulders falling with his heavy breath. Claire caught onto it immediately, squeezing his wrist with an underlying question. He looked into her eyes, blue irises gaining depth as he prepared to tell her the very thing that’s been haunting him for days now.
“I can’t get rid of the panic that takes over my whole body and mind when we separate.” He confessed, searching for more words, trying to come up with a way to explain it better. She listened to him patiently, her touch firm and reassuring. “It sounds crazy now that I think about it, but I’m sure the feeling will only increase when we’re both back to work. Every time I turn the corner or look inside the room, I’m scared that I- that you- ugh, goddamn it.” he let out a frustrated sigh, sliding closer to her and touching her cheek softly. “I’m terrified that I’m going to see you in danger again. I don’t think I can survive it the second time.”
He dove forward, capturing her lips in another kiss they shared his night. Only this time, the tone of it was entirely different. Gone was the fire, the heat and the lust that had driven them both to pull closer, to have, to own. Now, the need was greater, the desperation was more palpable, and the feelings were overflowing. Each time he leaned into her, she leaned back, until she was lying down with him hovering over her, barely keeping himself balanced on his elbows while her legs were wrapped tightly around his hips and her fingers were tangled in his hair once again.
Their faces were wet with tears, cleansing them of all the stress and anger they held within them. Ethan was the first one to lean away, resting his forehead against her collarbone, eyes still closed, breathing heavily. She stroked his back, basking in the warmth of his body, staring at the ceiling.
“I thought I was going to die in there.” she whispered, not trusting her voice to carry out the words. His entire body stiffened, eyes opening at once, his lips pressed to her skin. “Without telling you how much I need you. How much I want you, right here, by my side.” She lifted his head off her chest, making their eyes meet. “How much I care about you.”
“The moment I saw you in there was possibly the worst thing I could imagine. I’ve told you that before, but I’m never going to stop saying it. I’ve wasted so much time, trying to shield you from me; you and your work. I’ve never stopped to look at us.” He stroked her cheek, his smile full of pain but at the same time, hope. “There aren’t enough words in any language that could possibly express the grief I feel, or the sheer panic that froze me in place when I realized what was happening.” He paused, wiping first hers then his own face, just as a new batch of tears replaced the old one. “I want you to stay with me. I need you, Claire. In any and every way I can get you. I finally understand my feelings. And I won’t deny them anymore. The line is so far back that I don’t even remember what it looks like. You have me. You’ve had me for a long time now.”
She didn’t say a word for a long moment, searching for a confirmation. And she got it. In the way his eyes sparkled with utter happiness. In the way his hold on her never wavered, always believing in her. In the way his body relaxed after he finally told her everything.
Claire smiled so widely that her cheeks begun to hurt a bit, then hauled him onto her, kissing him with wild abandonment. “Let’s not wait for a next disaster to see where this leads us.”
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headoverhiddles · 4 years
Text
Wrapped In Plastic - Marilyn Manson x Reader [Smut]
Synopsis: The new kid at school intrigues you. He’s infatuated too, but beneath that scary exterior, you’ve got no idea what’s in store. 
Notes: Era: Spooky Kids! Requested by anon: “High school Brian having a crush on you.”
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There he is, sitting in front of the principal again. Brian Warner. You're surprised he hasn't been expelled yet, frankly, even though he just moved here to South Florida recently.
You watch from afar, sitting with your friends. He's making that face. That expression... or lack of expression. He doesn't give a fuck what he got in trouble for, and you, he and the principal know it.
"Hey. (y/n)," your best friend says, "What the hell? Are you listening?"
"Yeah," you mutter, glancing back into the office. God, he would probably fuck like an animal, taking you in some old haunted forest somewhere while spanking you and telling you you're his dirty little slut...
Your friend scoffs when she sees where you're looking.
"That guy is dangerous, quit fantasizing. That isn’t your picture perfect bad boy-- that’s like dating the next Son of Sam killer.”
Your other friend chimes in. “My sister told me she saw him and his pack of weirdos out lighting an abandoned house on fire. My sister’s friend said she hears him jerking off in the washroom every lunch hour. The whole school knows about it. Also apparently in creative writing, he turned in this story about this guy fucking his sister's corpse or something. Seriously weird, probably evil. He's gonna end up in jail, mark my words." You ignore your friend, but turn back into the conversation.
Eventually, the principal gives up, dismissing him. You see Brian join his friends outside the office door, who have been waiting-- Jeordie and Stephen, you think you've heard them called in class. The one with the brown comb-over is called Pogo outside of class, because of his fascination with serial killers. You think it's funny. Those guys just do whatever they want. 
Your breath hitches. Brian tucks his long black hair behind his ear, looking up and grinning at his friends. He's describing what he did, and he looks like a gleeful child who just got away with murder as the other two bust out laughing and dig for details. How could anyone think he's evil? 
Cold chills run through your body as he meets your eyes. Oh, fuck. He smirks a little bit your way, but you quickly look away. His features harden, and he turns back to his friends. You turn back to yours.
You can't help watching after him as he walks down the hall to fourth period, though... his head nearly reaches the ceiling, and that metal Planet Of The Apes lunchbox makes you smile. You've heard him make a threat or two to beat someone's ass with it, and you believe he'd do it. For every bully who promised him he'd be nothing, there's something about him that promised so much more.
--
The bell goes, and Brian sits down at the desk. 
"She was looking at you." 
"Yeah, she was talking to her friends about me," Brian mutters back.
"She looked like she was wetting her panties over you," Jeordie grins, "She looks like she wanted to suck your dick right there in front of Mr. Ogilvie!"
"That'd be the day," Brian sighs. 
"Yeah, you'd have beat off material forever," Pogo laughs.
"But she wasn't," he said, "You guys are just fucking blind."
"I don't know, I got some blow job vibes from her,” Pogo says. 
“You get blow job vibes from everyone.” 
“I’ll blow you for lunch money,” Jeordie mentions. Pogo shrugs. 
“I might take you up on that.” His obnoxious laughter rings out as you walk by the door. You recognize it immediately, and look back. Brian’s sitting there, knees tucked under the desk like his legs won’t fit. Shit. In your experience, being this preoccupied with someone meant you were into them... or at least, wanted to see more of them. 
Brian looks up again, and sees you staring at him. This time, he frowns. You’re drawn away by your friend, who pulls you toward your next class. As you're walking, someone calls your name.
“Hey! (y/n), right?” 
You turn as your friend keeps walking ahead. You scoff slightly as he approaches. “Like you don’t know my name.” You pause, backtrack. “I- sorry. That was mean."
“That’s okay. I’ve been known to be a little mean too,” he smirks, and he flips his hair out if his face. “I guess when you hang around a bunch of catty bitches all the time, it rubs off on you.” His voice is so deep and calm. It throws you off whenever he speaks, but does other things to you as well.
"Hanging out with a pair of delinquents can do the same." Your eyes dart inside the classroom to his friends, who are carving something into a desk. He gives a small smile.
"Touché."
“Speaking of rubbing off,” you raise an eyebrow, “Did you want to talk to me?”
He blushes, then forces his embarrassment away. “That rumor’s not true.”
“No?”
“Nah. I did light that abandoned house on fire though.” He grins, and you do as well, hugging your books closer to your chest. 
“So. You’re a rebel, huh?”
“If not putting up with everybody’s bullshit counts as rebelling, then yeah. I guess so.”
“I can respect that,” you nod. “I feel the same way... but I’m not as fearless as you.”
“Are you saying you might commit arson with me, (y/n)?” 
“Maybe. How did the conversation progress to lighting things on fire with you?” 
He laughs, ducks his head nervously. “Well. Um, I saw you staring like a creep, and... I was wondering if you wanted to be creeps together. Y’know... hang out sometime? Come see my band, or...?”
“Are you asking me out?”
“Yeah, I am.”
You smile, poking his black shirt that read Christianity is Unnatural, Abnormal, and Perverse. “You’ve got balls, Brian.” You look at the clock, and back to his class. “What do you say we fuck off for the rest of the day?”
His eyebrows shoot up. “You wanna skip class today?”
“Sorry,” you walk your fingers up his chest. “I know I’m not quite at your level of rebellion yet, but it’s a start.” 
He laughs as he follows you to your locker. 
---
“So. Do you have a car?”
“No.” He scratches his head. “We can walk back to my house, though. My parents aren’t home.” 
Following that plan, you make it back to his house. For someone hailed as the Antichrist of the school, he's got a relatively normal looking home, white picket fence and everything. All that changes once you get to his room.
"Wow," you say, looking up at everything. He's got serial killer-like writing scrawled on the wall by his bed, lyrics that seem like they're straight out of a porno or a horror film, or both. There are pentagrams drawn on his bed posts, and posters of bands like Nine Inch Nails, Ozzy Osbourne, KISS on his walls.
"I know it's stupid, but I'd give anything to meet those guys," he mutters, rubbing the back of his neck.
"It's not stupid," you say, examining the edges of the posters, freyed from the move no doubt. "I actually think it's awesome. I love Ozzy."
"One day I'm gonna beat his record for most drugs consumed over a lifetime."
"Have you started practicing?" you tease.
"I... well, I haven't had the chance."
"Right. Let me know when you do." You smile, going over to sit on his bed. He looks down at you, seems to have a mini panic attack, then acts cool with it, playing with his lip ring and sitting beside you. You look around the messy floor. He's got a strange mix of stuff that oddly seems to perfectly fit his personality: leaking boxes of black hair dye, various lipsticks and nail polishes, a bag of weed, books on the rise of fascism and Carl Jung's red book, an antique-looking switchblade, a Willy Wonka hat, condoms with little angry faces drawn on them, an old deflated football with "FIGHT" written on it, and... "What's that?" you ask, leaning down. Brian coughs.
"Oh. Yearbook from last year."
You pick it up, looking at all the little drawings of candy, needles, Charles Manson and other doodles he's defaced the book with. "But you didn't go to this school last year."
"I traded my mom's diet pills for it."
"Huh. Hustling already. Must have been some good stuff." You hesitate. The page was open to the photos of you as the lead in the play last year. You smirk, pretending to squint. "Is that a cum stain I see on my face?"
"You wish," he huffs, but he's blushing, hair curtaining around his face. You give him a look, turning fully toward him.
"Why'd you really invite me over?"
"To tell you I hate you, knock you out, and bury you in my backyard." You laugh.
"I mean, if you think about it..."
"It's the perfect plan. Invite the girl you've got a crush on over, assume she's gonna make fun of you, lure her in, then get your revenge." You smile, laying back on his bed.
"You just admitted to having a crush on me."
"Wasn't it obvious?" he asks. "I only ever threaten to kill the people I really wanna fuck."
"And do you really wanna fuck me, Bri?" you ask coyly, crawling dangerously close to him. He swallows, Adam's apple bobbing in his long, graceful throat. "You wanna fuck me right here, right now, while your parents aren't home, make me scream your name while you blare your favorite metal record and act like things'll never change?"
"That sounds good," he groans. His hands wander up your thigh, and you smile, bouncing on his leg. "...I also wanna share my music with you. Read a book over your shoulder. Maybe pop a few pills, key someone's car, grab a milkshake and look at the stars on Special K so we feel like we're floating, you know. Before I bang the shit out of you. Date stuff."
"Is this not our first date?" you ask. His tongue flicks up over his lip ring again. 
"I guess you could say it is."
"Good. Cause I never fuck on a first date," you say, "Or so I tell people." He clenches his jaw, and braces a skinny arm beside your head, leaning down to capture your lips. His lips taste sweet, like mint and those sugary rocket candies. He takes his shirt off, and you rub your hands down, feeling a few scars. He lets out a whimpered noise at your touch, shuddering a little. 
You make out and grind against one another for a few minutes, your hands pulling his hips closer by his black belt loops and his fingers tangling your hair. Your breath gets faster as he grinds harder, more desperately, and you reach a hand down to help him out, give him something to rut against.
"You feel so big," you moan, and he runs a hand through his hair, lips falling open.
"I'm gonna..." He makes another desperate noise, and you feel it right where you need him. But since all his condoms in here seem to be used or have faces drawn on them in scented marker, you opt for over the clothes stuff only.
"Use your fingers?" you breathe. He looks like he's about to cum, and you know it'll tip you over as well, what with all the times you had thought of him like this.
He reaches into your jeans, unzipping them, and messily finds your clit. For a teenage guy, he's not bad. He starts to rub, then reaches three fingers down to thrust them into you.
"Fuck, Bri! Three?!" you breathe. He looks into your eyes, not stopping.
"I thought girls were whores for that kind of thing!"
"It's..." you moan, "That's... oh... y-yeah... Jesus...” He really start to work them in, watching your reactions while rutting his clothed erection against your leg. "Fuck, Brian, grab my tits... yeah... this is just how I imagined it when I..."
He freezes for a second, and his whole body convulses. He gasps, and you see him reach down to cover his crotch, face going beet red. He doesn't stop, though. He keeps fingering you, and now that he's not worried about grinding, he can explore you in other ways. He attaches his lips to your neck, and sucks a hickie right below your ear. 
“Brian... Bri, make me c--” 
"Cum for me, you filthy little slut," he snarls, and you arch your back up, grinding down into his fingers as your orgasm hits. You rock through it, and he kisses you again, sloppy and hot. When he pulls away, he gives you your fingers to lick clean, which you do through a heated stare.
Things calm down into you laying back against his pillows with his stringy body tucked in a cramped position beside you. "I didn't know you were that..." you search for words. "Experienced?" 
"What, you thought I was a virgin?” 
You giggle. “I didn’t know what to think about you, to be honest. Kinky, inexperienced, I had no idea. Of course, I hoped that you were kinky.”
“I’ve been known to use restraints when asked,” he smirks.
“I’ve got that to look forward to. I thought you were cute too, though. I don’t care if you’re some devil worshipper who parents and teachers everywhere shiver at the thought of." He's quiet for a second.
"I thought you were scared of me." 
"That too, a little bit. But what scares me turns me on." He rolls over to face you, a vulnerable position for him, you can tell. 
"The way I dress is what I perceive to be beautiful. Looking like this, doing what I want to, it keeps the assholes who like to give my face their own version of plastic surgery away if they think I'm a Satanist who's gonna... cut off their mom's head or something if they fuck with me. Makes the hypocrites who call themselves teachers question their morals too, ‘teaching’ someone like me to be a good little boy and follow society’s rules. It’s all brainwashing, everything they feed us with their sugar and shit, and I’m the bad guy for standing up to it." 
You stroke hair out of his face, and he looks up at you, lips pursed. "There’s always gotta be a scapegoat. I guess you fit that role.” You look beyond him. “You think it would ruin your image if those bullies found your poetry books?” He smiles. 
“Nah. One day, I’m gonna grow up to be a big rock and roll star. I’ll use my own poetry and turn it into music, and I’ll look ten times more extreme than I do now. Then they can all say they knew me, and I’ll tell them to go to hell.” 
You snuggle into him. "Mmm. Speaking of extreme... we should pull a Sandy and Danny. I'll come to school dressed all goth and shit Monday. Throw my friends for a loop."
"Does that mean I have to dress like a cheerleader?" he asks.
"You've got the ass for it."
He grins. "Stop it, you're making it very hard for me not to wanna fuck you for real right now."
"Here's the deal," you say, "I'll show you where I live this weekend. You tell me what your favorite fruit is, because that's a soul searching question. At that point we'll know each other better... and I'll be fair game."
He bites his lip. "I feel like I've known you forever."
"Yeah. Me too."
Just then, there's a knock at the bedroom door. Startled, you sit up quickly, and who you can only assume to be Brian's mom pops her head in. "When the fuck did you two get home?!" Brian blurts.
"About five minutes ago, honey. Don't worry, we didn't hear anything. Jeordie called, said he 'left the smoke bomb under the urinals.' I hope you aren't getting up to trouble like the last school, your father had a heck of a time getting you into this one.”
“Mom.”
“He had to switch jobs too, and with his back, you know how difficult long drives can be. Oh, how rude of me-- hello sweetie, you can call me Barb."
"Mom--" 
"Brian, is this the sweet thing you had that dream about the other night?"
"MOM!"
“Hugh, Brian’s got a girlfriend over, we should turn the TV up to give them a little privacy.” 
“GIRLFRIEND?!” a voice calls up, “GOOD ON YA, SON. THAT’S MY BOY!” 
“Jesus fucking Christ...” Brian groans, burying his face in a pillow. You laugh so hard into his chest you nearly tumble off his bed. Most dangerous guy in school, your ass.
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theoverly · 3 years
Text
Object manipulation
Pairing: Johnny & female V
Rating: T for swearing
Dragging herself back home after a taxing day of merc work, V just wants to kick her feet up and relax for a bit.
Of course with Johnny in her head they end up bickering for a bit before V makes a surprising discovery.
------------------------------  
Inspired by the loop of the second gif in this post by @bubble-bones
I laughed for like a solid minute or two about the idea that Johnny’s glasses disappearing was a type of relic malfunction and he would stubbornly put them back on each time before dragging my tired ass to bed, but then I woke up with this idea in my head.
------------------------------  
On ao3; https://archiveofourown.org/works/30315762
Or press “Keep reading”
------------------------------ 
V is dragging her feet up the last set of stairs to her floor in the Megabuilding, the elevator broken again. She can feel the presence looming in the back of her mind, a hint of amusement which is definitely not hers.
  As soon as the door to her apartments closes behind her the by now familiar static of Johnny's construct appearing buzzes in hear ears, the rocker-boy sitting leaned back on the couch with his hands folded behind his head and boots kicked up onto the messy coffee table. "Rough day, princess?" The nickname is spoken in an exaggerated sweet manner, only serving to annoy the merc further, the question so apparently ironic as he's been there with her the entire day.
  After throwing her jacket onto the back of the desk chair she flips him the bird before grabbing the hem of her top and pulling it over her head, tossing it towards the corner by the bed where a pile of laundry is accumulating. She makes her way into the bathroom, shimmying out of her jeans and underwear and leaving them in a heap on the floor before stepping into the shower, turning the water on and undoing the bun her hair is pulled into before putting her hands up against the wall as she leans in under the spray. She can hear Johnny glitch into the bathroom, sees his outline where he sits on the edge of the sink through the stained glass between it and the shower. "Do you mind?" She asks in a tired grumble, voice so quite he wouldn't have been able to hear it without being in her head.
  "As if bein' outside the shower was the breach of privacy here. I see everythin' you see. 'member?" She sighs and closes her eyes, going through her routine of washing herself off quickly before turning the shower back off, drying the tight curls of her hair as best as she can before inefficiently using the same-now damp-towel to pat her body down as she pads out of the bathroom, leaving wet footprints on the floor. Johnny glitches back onto the couch, now taking up the corner with his arms up on the backrest and boots on the table. She wraps the towel around herself and flops down on the end of the couch, reaching for the can of monkey she opened this morning and only drank half of, draining the now flat drink in a few large gulps before putting it back on the table as she reaches for the radio, turning it to radio Vexelstrom and feeling a hint of annoyance not her own. Snatching a half-eaten burrito she can't remember when she ate off the table, she pulls her hand back and gives it a good sniff to see if it's gone off. Smelling only the preservatives and fake aroma of the synth ingredients she shrugs before diving in for a bite so big she can barely chew with her mouth closed, crumbs falling down onto her towel and lap where she brushes them onto the floor. "Preem example of class you are..." Johnny's never been anything but honest about his distaste for some of V's habits, having grown up a nomad she's not had the luxury of becoming a picky eater, though even her clan would question her lack of table manners and the things she'd willingly eat from time to time.
  She leans back and kicks her feet onto the table, peeling some of the plastic wrapper away so she can go in for a second bite once she's chewed her current one enough where it won't get stuck in her throat when she swallows. She looks directly into the rocker-boy’s eyes-or as directly as she can through his aviators-and practically unhinges her jaw when she goes for a second even bigger bite, food dribbling out of her mouth as she begins to chew loudly. Johnny's nose wrinkles and his eyebrows furrow as he shakes his head in disgust as he looks away, focusing on the collection of stickers on the side of the half counter offering a visual separation between the seating area and the main area of the apartment. As V begins to chew like a normal person, she eyes the engram openly, attention drawn to the combat-vest strapped around his torso. Whilst not the bulkiest model, she knows from experience that combat vests aren't exactly comfortable. "Why do you wear that?" She asks in her mind, mouth too full to speak.
  "Is what I wore before they hit me with soulkiller." He answers with a hint of annoyance.
  "Nah-" he whips his head around to look at her with a frown. "I've seen that memory; no way those ‘saka goons didn't take that off you before they started beatin' on you." One of his eyebrows raise above the frame of his aviators. "Same with the shades. They were beatin’ your face pretty good; no way you were still wearing those." She transmits, taking a break to swallow her mouthful as she folds the wrapper back around the now three fourths eaten burrito and tosses it onto the table again. She thinks the rocker-boy might be glaring at her, but it's hard to tell with his eyes hidden behind dark shades. Either way, she glares back, though not very effectively as she's not entirely sure where to meet his gaze.
  She really wishes those shades would just vanish.
  Johnny's face morph into surprise when his aviators glitch off the bridge of his nose suddenly, letting V see his eyes widen in shock, her own eyebrows shooting up in surprise. "What the fuck?" He spits out loudly, putting his boots down on the floor and leaning forward, eyes filled with venom as he glares at her, blood vessels in his forehead popping out he's that mad.
  "I did that?" The nomad wonders aloud.
  "You did, congratu-fuckin'-lations." There's a hint of a growl rumbling from his chest. He keeps glaring at her even as he waves his hand the same way he might to materialize a cigarette, snapping his newly summoned aviators open and slipping them back on, beginning to lean back with his upper lip twitching in a half snarl, only for them to disappear again. "Hey! Give 'em back!" He yells, as if she'd physically snatched them off him.
  This only serves to make V chuckle deeply. "Seems you're not the only one who can manipulate your construct..." She drawls, lips pulling into her signature side grin, looking to him with all manner of devious ideas to see just how much she can manipulate running through her head. She laughs loudly when she feels Johnny's horror as a pink frilly thing begins to take form in hear head, his construct glitching away quickly as the engram retreats to the back of her mind with a faint string of curses not her own filtering up into her consciousness.
  "Oh, come on pretty-boy! Just one dress!"
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Text
Mermay - Dilliam - Operation Renovation!
While working on Mark and Celine’s house, William has the bright idea to bring Damien inside to help give him a second opinion. It’s another chance for both to learn more about each other, and for William to realise he caught feelings for the cute merman.
Word Count: 2,046
-
William and Mark mutually agreed to stay away from the Rockpool that night, bar Mark briefly hurrying down with dinner. Whatever happened between the siblings would stay between them. William had a hunch that Damien felt isolated from his family - and even his sister he adored - because it seemed difficult to find middle ground, but William kept that to himself. 
As he went to bed that night, William was drawn to the window to look out over the sea. A glimmer of light could be seen at the Rockpool, seeming to only emphasise the distance between the house and the coast, as well as between the twins. If there was a way to help them re-establish a connection, he would.
Opportunity arrived two days later. William had spent the entire of the first day painting the living room to freshen it up, and was unexpectedly left alone to handle the redecoration part on the second. Celine, who was supposed to be there, was called into work urgently. William always preferred having a second opinion on matters like this and was nearly about to abandon his plans for the morning when the breeze hit the chimes just outside the kitchen window. He turned to see the garden and… Of course!
-
"Damien!" William scrambled down the rocky steps, screeching to a halt just beside the water. "Damien, you here?" He could see small bubbles popping on the surface just beside the large rocks. Then, after a few moments, Damien's head slowly rose over the water. His eyes were half-lidded as he peered up at the source of the loud voice.
"Oh, uh, sorry. I didn't think you would be asleep. I can come back-"
"No, it's alright… What's wrong?" Damien pulled himself out of the water to sit on the path. He began stretching to undo the effects of being curled up all night. William couldn't help but stare at how toned the merman was. Damien's body had more bulk to it to help keep warm in colder climates, but it was well defined between the lack of patterns on his body and his current stretches. William had to quickly snap himself out of it before he was caught staring in a daze of awe.
"I'm trying to rearrange the living room space and have been trying to decide where I should… what are you doing?" With his back still to William, Damien interrupted the other's train of thought by lifting his hand and turning the palm up.
"Pass me your phone."
"What?"
"Show me the photos and I'll tell you what I think."
"I never said anything about photos."
"Then I can't be of help."
"Poppycock. You're coming back up with me." William's suggestion had Damien finally turn to face the human. Even with what William could only describe as 'merman bed hair', Damien's accusatory look was sharp.
"I cannot walk, remember? I'm not of the species that can magically shapeshift -" Now it was Damien's turn to trail off as William let out a snort of laughter.
"You know, for someone who is so smart, you're awfully fond of jumping to conclusions and thinking you know what I'm going to say, huh?" William put his hands on his hips as he grinned. "No, no, dry your tail! I'm carrying you up! And no - I know that look from Celine - don't try and argue, I've made up my mind. Unlike Mark, I've spent years in the army. I'm a strong man. Have you even had a chance to see the house yet with your own eyes?"
William’s observation stunned Damien into silence. William was right - why did he keep assuming the worst of William? Was the simmering anger from yesterday influencing this, or was Damien really expecting the worst of humans?
"Only in photos…" He finally answered after a short pause. Damien was bewildered that William was even considering this after how Damien had behaved yesterday. "But you must know my tail is -"
"You won't know until you try. Come on, chop chop!"
Damien sat on the picnic bench, shaking the tip of his tail of extra moisture while William properly examined the merman's body to decide how best to carry it. At a glance, his tail was longer than his torso, and the eye-catching tip was large and potentially awkward if handled wrong. But William’s thoughts briefly strayed as he admired the colours. Damien was rather handsome. Not only that, he had such a wonderful personality (when he wasn’t jumping to conclusions) that William genuinely enjoyed the other’s company. But right now, he needed to focus. The last thing he wanted was to make the merman uncomfortable. Hoisting Damien over his shoulder was rather undignified, so it would need to be bridal style at a higher angle. 
He grunted at his decision. It caught Damien’s attention and he lifted his head in time to see a smirk peeking out under William’s moustache.
"I'm starting to think that is the 'I have an idea' look Mark had warned me about," Damien muttered as the soldier approached. Establishing how best to pick up Damien was a little awkward - "We'll get the hang of it!" William insisted - but they managed it. Damien wrapped both arms around William's neck and held on for dear life with such strength he was sure he’d leave marks on the skin. One of William's hands was at the base of the torso, while the other arm had the tail draped over it. To Damien's amazement, there was no sign of struggle from William once they settled.
"I can carry twice my own body weight," said William with a wink, like he read the merman's mind. With that, they made their way up the steps. William's eyes were on the ground to watch his footing, while Damien needed time to recover from that damned wink.
-
The initial reason for William bringing Damien into the house was ignored as Damien was taken aback by a moment of awe upon seeing the house for the first time. William decided that Damien absolutely needed the 'grand tour'. It was the right choice, as Damien was curious to learn more about the house beyond the photos he had been shown. William was able to point out the various jobs he was required to do while here until, finally, it brought them to the chaos that was the living room. Damien could see why William wanted a second opinion. All the furniture was grouped together in the middle of the room. It was quite a sorry mess of eccentric items that needed to somehow find new homes within the room.
Damien was sprawled across the couch - the end of his tail casually dangling across the far arm of it - as William set to work moving items to and fro as Damien instructed. Neither homeowner being there was a blessing, as William discovered that Damien had a very good eye for object placement and how to make a room look nice. Damien laughed and admitted that it was probably due to the natural merfolk love of beautiful things combined with a human awareness of furniture and ornaments.
The pair chatted throughout the morning as William completed the heavy work (not that Damien minded that he had to watch the human flex his muscles and show off that strength). This was how William learned that merfolk are not as materialistic as humans. A normal human home would be too 'cluttered' for them. There was little need for 'the latest and trendiest goods' in a merfolk's life in the same way as humans needed them, but those that had trinkets or ornaments knew they would never be stolen since they only have sentimental value.
"Is it true that merfolk like jewellery, since those are pretty valuable?" William asked as he showed Damien a mermaid figure before he could put it on the shelf.
"It is. It's purely aesthetic. The value of the materials mean nothing. I once met a young mermaid who had one of those bright, plastic bracelets a human child would wear. She valued it so much that when it went missing, the entire community banded together to search for it. I realised that an item imbued with sentimentality should be the most important value in my life, not how much money is used on it. Though there is a natural draw to gold because it isn't as unpredictable as silver in the water."
"At least the movies get something right. So what about the nesting-whatchamacallit - they aren't 'homes', right?"
"Right. Merfolk communities normally have a shared 'living space' that we call 'nesting grounds'. These are areas that are sheltered, mostly shallow, and open. It's a communal area, so it's ideal to have enough room for everyone to socialise without the danger of being swept away by storms. There are small nooks and crannies that are used for nests, which are a merfolk's personal spot for sleeping. Everyone knows to leave another's nest alone. Messing with the nest or the items near it without permission can land you in a lot of trouble." Damien paused, eyes drifting to one of the seascape photos on the wall. "The nesting ground I've been welcomed into has our distant relatives in it. Their home is situated amongst the coral reef. There's always colour there, along with whatever 'souvenirs' are brought to either share in the communal space or for a personal nest."
"Huh....Sounds like the dorms in the barracks I'd stay in. We'd have individual beds and lockers, but that's it in terms of 'personal space'. Everywhere else is communal." The comparison, though not perfect, was close enough to help William gain a better understanding of Damien's world, and of the setting for Celine and Mark's home. "So… Would that make the land part of the Rockpool the nesting grounds, and the small section under the water by the rocks your nest?"
"Yes, I consider it as such. I like it as it is. I don't see why it needs to be changed."
Realisation dawned on William. That explained Damien's offense at the mere thought of the space being changed. If everything was fitting for a merman, why humanise it? There was a solution to this, he was sure of it!
The pair took a break in the afternoon to bring Damien into the bathroom to get some moisture back into his body - the handheld shower head made this a lot easier - and have some lunch. Then, as William was asking Damien his opinions on which colour would better suit one of the empty rooms, Celine returned. She thought William was merely talking out loud as usual and was pleasantly surprised to see her brother lounging across three kitchen chairs, waving innocently at her.
-
And that was how the pair spent the next week. Each morning, William would set up and go on a long walk to strengthen his leg and explore the area, then fetch Damien so they could spend time together while William worked. Mark had gotten his hands on a wheelchair, which William then spent half the night refurbishing it to support a long, heavy tail instead of two feet. It gave Damien a little more independence when in the house… As well as the ability to ram into William with it when he was fetching items. The three humans agreed that it gave Damien a new lease of life once he was able to be involved in a way that was suitable for him. Some days he would ask William to bring him back to the Rockpool so he could spend the afternoon alone instead, and that was a request that was always respected.
However, as the week went on, William found he would spend his evenings at the Rockpool, regardless of whether or not the others joined him. He found Damien to be such good company… and feelings had taken root. But with how adamant Damien had been in not wanting to be humanised, he decided it would be best to keep it to himself. 
It didn't help that Mark gave him a knowing nudge one night when they were heading back into the house and seemed to be blissfully oblivious to William’s threat to keep it to himself.
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ladyanput · 4 years
Text
Seeing Green Ch.9
Alright, here’s the chapter where you all find out I can’t write action scenes worth crap.
Chat Noir had left her alone, shivering in the cold as freezing air blew in through the warehouse's broken windows. Her limbs were beginning to feel numb, and her wrists were raw and bloodied from all of her vicious tugging to try and get free.
She faintly heard the sounds of footsteps and Chat Noir appeared in her vision once again, holding a small plastic bag. He smiled as he knelt beside her once again, blissfully unaware of her growing shivering.
"I got you the perfect outfit now, my lady." Chat grinned excitedly, reminding Marinette of a toddler about to show their messy art to their parents. A very deranged toddler, that is. He pulled a red mask out of the plastic bag, it was obviously made of some felt material and had crudely drawn on black dots. She flinched when Chat put it on her. "There we go, now you're perfect, Ladybug."
"Chat, no, Adrien, please let me go. I- I can't feel my fingers." She begged, then flinched when he got close. He kissed her without even listening to what she said, and when his tongue invaded her mouth, a sob left her.
This was supposed to be her partner, someone she could rely on and fight with until the end. They had been through so much together, yet here he was, lost in some sick fantasy that he refused to let go of. When he pulled back, he had a look of euphoria on his face as he stroked her cheek.
"You taste so sweet, but I alway knew you would be. You're my beautiful Ladybug after all." Chat hummed, reaching into the plastic bag again. He withdrew a pair of silver rings, sliding one onto Marinette's left ring finger, the other onto his own.  "There we go… Our own perfect happily ever after."
"What?" She croaked out, her voice dry. She shivered as another cool breeze swept over them.
"I dreamt of us having a big house, three beautiful children… I always knew you were meant for me when you stood up to Hawkmoth on our first day as heroes." He nuzzled her cheek gently, then nuzzled her cold, grey earrings. "I'd rather you be yourself right now, but I can pretend. I always know how to play pretend really well."
"Adrien…" She felt the bile rise in her throat, thoughts of Adrien's past nightly activities flashing in her mind and fear flooded her further. She squirmed when his body pressed close to hers as he cuddled close. Her voice rose in pitch as hysterics set in. "Please..  Please, don't!"
"What?" Chat stopped his kisses on her neck and his green eyes studied her, before widening, looking almost hurt. "Ladybug, I'd never do that to you… I'd never hurt my precious Ladybug."
Marinette closed her eyes and tried to think of Damian, of her friends back at the hotel, of Eva. They must be looking for her, they had to be. They wouldn't leave her alone here, would they? Surely they cared. Right…?
Chat was looming over her face once again, his smile wide. Marinette tried to turn her head away from him, but he forced her chin over and his lips were on hers once again.
---
Nightwing watched helplessly as Robin savagely beat up a thug that had mentioned to them that he had seen a guy in black leather carrying a girl towards the warehouse district. 
There was obvious frustration and anger radiating off of Robin, his desperation to find Marinette clear to the rest of the team. They all felt the same, but they couldn't afford to go in rashly and end up getting the girl hurt, especially with the black cat's destructive powers that Tim told him about.
"Robin, that's enough." Batman stepped forward and grabbed Robin's shoulder, pulling him back roughly, leaving the thug curled up in fetal position on the ground. "Killing him won't help us get to her faster."
"He has her. I know the police couldn't find anything, but who the fuck else would have her?!" Robin turned on his father, his body trembling with the rage that just kept bubbling inside of him. Usually he was good with his emotions, of being able to control them, but when Marinette was in trouble all of that training seemed to go out the window. "If he's such a fucking creep that he spies on her at night, what else could he do to her?!"
"Yes, but keep in mind he's most likely transformed, and from what Red Robin saw in those videos, these Miraculous' powers can withstand a lot of damage." Batman shook his head and turned towards the direction of the warehouse district. "Everyone, move. If you see Chat Noir, proceed with extreme caution, we don't want casualties today."
The team made their way towards the warehouse district, eyes peeled for any signs of movement. It was a cold winter's night, the air biting deep and cruel. Worry spiked dramatically as Robin thought of how cold Marinette must be. He was sure the stupid tomcat was too much of an idiot to even think about bringing her winter coat, especially since it was snowing outside.
"I don't see anything down at the south end." Red Hood reported over his comm as he looked into every warehouse that he could. Lots of abandoned warehouses, but no Marinette, and no furry freak.
"Guys, I think I've got something." Black Bat's voice sounded slightly strained as she watched the scene inside of the warehouse from her perch by one of the windows. Marinette tied to a pole by her wrists, shivering hard with her lips looking rather blue. When Batwoman dropped in beside her, she grimaced at the sight of the crude mask put on the young woman's face, or the cat themed hero forcing kisses on the barely conscious girl.
"I want to skin him.." Batwoman hissed through clenched teeth as she watched Chat adjust a bridal style veil onto Marinette's head. "She can barely keep her head up."
Black Bat couldn't respond due to Robin shoving his way past them and rushing his way into the warehouse, sword drawn, a look of murderous intent on his face, Nightwing hot on his heels.
"Robin, wait!"
Chat looked up at the sound of commotion, only to be knocked back and sent flying across the room by a superb kick from Robin. Batman cursed under his breath and when he accepted the planned surprise attack was compromised, went in and joined the rest of them.
Chat got to his feet and brushed off the kick as if he had been swatted with a damp towel. His green eyes narrowed furiously at the sight of the Gotham heroes, his clawed hands curling into fists.
"What are you all doing here? Get away from my Lady!" He snarled when he noticed Red Robin knelt beside Marinette, cutting away the ropes that had cut so deep into her wrists. He made his way towards them, but was intercepted by Black Bat who tackled him. "I'll fucking kill all of you!"
"You had no right to kidnap her!" Black Bat snapped back as she struggled with him, getting right in his face as they both strain in their fighting. "She's not some toy you keep around to play with, pervert!"
She didn't get a chance to react when he wrenched her arm and it popped out of its socket, the air leaving her lungs. Chat then grabbed the back of her head and slammed it down onto the concrete floor, making her see stars.
Red Robin carefully helped Marinette stand, though the shivering girl pressed into him, desperate for any trace of warmth. With a soft curse, he took off his cape and draped it over her shoulders. 
"Did he hurt you, Marinette?" He whispered, watching as Robin wailed on Chat, their weapons meeting with loud clashes. Carefully he began moving her towards the entrance of the warehouse. 
"No, but… but he…" She swallowed thickly, reaching up and taking off the crude mask and the cheap wedding veil. Red Robin felt disgust at the sight of the ring on her left hand. He slid it off of her finger and tossed it onto the floor. "Just kissing, that was it."
"Let's get you out of here, you're freezing." He whispered, but frowned when she struggled against him.
"No… I need Tikki… to take Chat's ring." Her words slurred, her lashes fluttering as her lids felt heavy, but she took a step towards where Chat was currently trying to strangle Batman.
Chat's gaze rose and he snarled when he saw Marinette was untied. He took a threatening step towards her, but Robin stepped into his path, swinging his sword. The black cat met the sword with his staff and hissed at him.
"You're trying to take her away from me. She's mine, she belongs to me, not some pretty boy spoiled brat." Chat hissed, shoving Robin back only to charge at him. The two struggled as Robin kept getting knocked back by the inhumanly strong cat themed hero, but that only fueled the young assassin's anger.
"She's not property! She doesn't belong to anyone!" Robin snapped, aiming for Chat's head, but stopping short when the cat reached out and grabbed his wrist. This was Ladybug's partner? A guy who acted like he was owed the girl he had feelings for? That he automatically got her because of some stupid delusion of soulmates? "I'll cut your fucking hands off for what you did."
Chat stared at him, before grinning. Then in a swift move, he crushed Robin's hand, then reared back and smashed his head into his.
---
Marinette stumbled her way towards the exit, shivering wildly as Tim supported her. She went to thank him, but he was ripped away from her and sent flying across the room, slamming into one of the concrete poles.
Chat wrapped an arm around her waist and held her against him, his expression one of deranged fury.
"If any of you come near us, I'll destroy her. Cataclysm!" Marinette felt the blood drain from her face as he held his powered up hand inches from her face. "If I can't have her, I'll never let anyone else! She's mine, and if I can only join her in the afterlife, so be it!"
"Adrien!" Marinette let out a shrill scream, drawing the attention of the remaining conscious heroes. She struggled, mentally begging for Tikki to hurry and find her. "Adrien, please stop!"
"No!" Chat snarled right in her face, his grip tightening on her, making her wince. "You're mine, Ladybug!"
"She's not Ladybug."
All eyes turned to the warehouse doors as they were thrown open, a strong wind bursting in, filling the place with flurried snow.
And there stood Ladybug, hands on her hands and a furious expression on her face.
"M- my Lady. But how..?" Chat began to tremble, dropping Marinette in his shock, sending her sprawling across the floor. "Ladybug, you're here!"
"I can't believe you, Chat? Kidnapping a civilian? Threatening to kill her? And here I thought you were my partner, a superhero!" Ladybug shook her head sadly, hugging herself. "And here I thought I was falling in love with you…"
"No, wait, Ladybug, please!" He stepped away from Marinette and made his way towards his Ladybug, reaching out towards her. "I thought you were being stolen away from me! You do love me, you know you do! You see? I was doing this for us!"
"Oh Chat…" Ladybug gave a thin smile, then narrowed her eyes. "I'll have fun kicking your scrawny ass."
Ladybug burst into orange smoke and a pair of feet planted themselves firmly on Chat's chest, making him sprawl onto his back. Everyone stared at the woman standing on Chat's chest.
Her violet eyes sparkled with amusement, body clad in an orange bodysuit, what looked to be a black collar around her throat, the Fox Miraculous dangling. Her fox ears twitched every so slightly, her fluffy tail curled up tight.
"Hello kitty cat. You know, what you did was highly illegal." She purred, then stomped hard on his throat.
"Are those high heels?" Marinette hissed, narrowing her eyes as she watched Chat throw the fox heroine across the warehouse, then him spreading after her, claws unsheathed as he went at her with his Cataclysm. 
"Hey Sugar Cookie, I think this belongs to you!" The fox unfurled her tail, Tikki darting out and rushing towards her Chosen.
"Marinette! You're safe!" Tikki cuddled to her chosen, only to flinch back when she felt how cold she was. "Hurry, transform and take Chat's ring!"
"Tikki, spots on!"
---
Chat swiped furiously at the mysterious fox, maddening fury pumping through his veins. This bitch used Ladybug's persona against him. He couldn't wait to turn her to ash.
"You're getting rusty, Tomcat. Must be all of those times you'd laze around and let Ladybug do all of the work." She taunted, running backwards as Chat kept trying to swipe at her with his Cataclysm. But Chat managed to trip her by smashing the back of her knees with his staff, and he grabbed her by the throat. He inched his powered hand closer, but it halted when a familiar spotted yo-yo wrapped around his wrist.
"Not so fast, Chat Noir! You're not hurting anyone." Ladybug smirked and ripped the black cat backwards, while Red Hood appeared and tossed one of the boomerangs. He tossed it at Chat, who instinctively caught it with his free hand, and it crumpled into dust.
"Looks like you've lost the upper hand." The fox grinned and bore her claws, slashing at Chat's face, blood splattering and he was sent stumbling back. Batwoman ran up and slammed her fist right into his face, hearing the satisfying crunch of bone. "Ladybug, now!"
As Batwoman, Red Hood, and the fox combined barely pinned down Chat Noir, Ladybug rushed forward and grabbed his wrist, plucking the black cat ring from his finger.
"Adrien Agreste." Ladybug's voice was cold as his transformation slid away, leaving the bleeding teen glaring up at her with furious green eyes. "As the Guardian of the Miraculous, you are hereby retired as the Black Cat holder."
"You can't do this to me! I am the Black Cat, you can't take my ring!" Adrien snapped and struggled, only to freeze when Red Hood took out a gun and held it to his head.
"Move a fucking inch and I'll fucking end you, you disgusting creep." He snarled, body tense. He was itching to end this kid.
"I contacted the police. They'll be here soon." Red Robin made his way over to them, his arm hanging at an odd angle at his side. He eyed the fallen Batman, Black Bat, Robin, and Nightwing. "Jesus, we all practically have military training and he took out over half of us."
"Oh!" Ladybug's eyes widened a fraction, before she stepped back and threw her yo-yo into the air. "Miraculous Ladybug!"
---
Robin's eyes slowly opened, and he saw an angel. Marinette smiled down at him, before taking his hands, now perfectly healed, into his own and helping him stand. Without a word, they tightly embraced and she wept softly into his chest.
"I'm glad you're safe, Angel." He whispered, stepping back and wiping the tears away. She was still shivering, but it had subsided some. "You're safe though?" 
"I'm fine. He didn't do anything to me." She assured him, before turning back to the entire Bat squad who had gathered around, everyone's wounds miraculously healed. "Where's the perv?"
The fox lady, who stood off to the side, pointed to the entrance, where Adrien was tied up, his nose broken. He then noticed Marinette cradling her right hand and the bloodied knuckles and smiled. 
"So…" Marinette turned and crossed her arms, smirking at the fox. "What do I call the heroine who decided shoulder pads and high heels were a smart choice for a superhero costume?"
"I managed to do flips and cartwheels in these heels, so you don't get to judge." The fox pointed a cautious finger at the young teen, smiling. "But I guess you can call me Lady Vixen."
There was a high pitched beeping and soon as the flash of light disappeared, Evangeline stood there, hands on hips.
There was silence for a moment, then a clattering sound. Red Hood had dropped his gun. 
In a swift move, he took off his hood and tossed it aside, his messy dark  hair framing his face. Suddenly, Eva's eyes widened in alarm.
"What the fuck? Jaso-" Before Eva could say anything else, Jason grabbed her by the shoulders and kissed her. Marinette felt her cheeks heat up and an uncomfortable giggle left her as she shied her eyes away. How long had this been going on?
"You're a fucking crazy woman." Jason muttered, resting his forehead against Eva's.
"I had to save Marinette. She couldn't transform without that red fairy." Eva shrugged, though she seemed to have a rather dreamy smile on her face.
"Yeah, but your form was terrible." Jason grabbed her by the waist and tossed her over his shoulder like she was a sack of flour, before he began striding towards the entrance past Adrien. "You and I need to work on that flexibility of yours."
"Jason, what the fuck are you talking about?" Eva struggled in Jason's tight grip, and Marinette watched as her expression went from confusion, to realization, then to a cherry red eagerness. "Oh.. OH!"
Marinette felt her own cheeks heat up, but she quickly turned back to Batman, clearing her throat.
"Thank you all for saving me. I really appreciate it." She smiled, snuggling into Robin's warmth as they heard sirens in the distance. 
"That power of yours comes in handy. I was sure I'd be in the hospital for months." Black Bat grinned, gingerly touching her healed shoulder.
The police quickly arrived, and Adrien was hauled off to Gotham Prison, with a call being sent out to his father.
Marinette was taken back to the hotel, where the entire class was waiting for her in the lobby. Juleka, Rose, Kim, Alix, and Nino all rushed forward and gathered the shivering girl into a tight hug, allowing her to leech off of their warmth, all the while Commissioner Gordon explained everything to Miss Bustier.
"There must be some mistake." Miss Bustier shook her head, looking rather frazzled. She couldn't let this get back to the parents, back to the school board. "Adrien is just a child, you can't arrest him. He just made a mistake, that's all!"
"A mistake?" Gordon's brows shot up in bewilderment before he shook his head. "Listen, Miss, kidnapping isn't a mistake. Holding a terrified girl captive for several hours isn't a mistake. Keeping her bound, in the cold and letting her starve isn't a mistake."
"Marinette probably coerced him into doing it!" Lila spoke up, stepping forward with tears in her eyes.
"She's been obsessed with him for years, he probably couldn't take it anymore. She blackmailed him into some sick fetish game or something to finally get her to stop. Marinette always did like getting all of the attention!"
Alya crossed her arms and glowered over at Marinette. She just had to go and get kidnapped and ruin the entire trip! If Marinette hadn't come, she'd still have her boyfriend, would still have money, and her phone wouldn't be off after her parents decided to cancel her cell subscription. Now she couldn't even update the Ladyblog!
"Why you little…" Alix took a threatening step towards her, but froze in her tracks when she saw Bruce Wayne and Damian making their way into the hotel.
"Good evening, Commissioner Gordon. I heard Marinette was found and we rushed over as fast as we could." Bruce smiled as he shook the Commissioner's hand, watching as his son gathered Marinette into his arms and hugged her tight. "I contacted her parents. Funny thing, they were never told their daughter had been kidnapped."
The glares the adults in the room sent Bustier made her go pale. Eva would certainly have a field day when she got wind of this.
"And I believe that she isn't really safe under the care of such a… mediocre caretaker." Bruce's smile was kind, but his eyes were deadly. "Her parents gave permission for her to stay with us until they get here to take her home."
The class was quiet as Damian guided Marinette over to the elevator, before Alix began laughing, practically doubling over from it.
"Fuck, this is too perfect! Marinette gets to live that pretty princess life you're always boasting about having, Lie-la." She taunted, and the Italian's hands curled into fists as she glared after Marinette and the Wayne heir.
Once in the privacy of her hotel room, Marinette took a seat and gingerly touched her hurt wrists. Plagg hovered over her, looking guilty before he floated down and sadly nuzzled her hand.
"I'm sorry, Gumdrop… I should have reined him in better. I could have stopped him." He whispered, tearing up as he looked down, eyeing her wounded wrists. "I could have stopped him from doing this. But he learned how… how to control me."
"Don't blame yourself. I know he wasn't a true Black Cat." Marinette smiled, scratching the kwami gently between his ears, causing him to purr. Tikki went and hugged Plagg close, the two of them settling on one of the pillows. "But… I think that this madness that overtook him, it was always within him. He chose which path to take."
"We'll find you a new cat, don't worry.." Tikki whispered, hugging Plagg tightly. But Plagg wasn't paying attention, he was staring straight at Damian.
"Well.. We should get you back to the mansion. You'll need all the rest you can get." Damian gathered up Marinette's luggage, eyeing the red and black box she picked up and putting it back into it's secret compartment.  Once it was all gathered up, he kissed her. "Let's go home."
"Home…" Marinette smiled and nuzzled him, having a feeling she was finally where she was meant to be.
---
"Nathalie. Get us some tickets…" Gabriel glanced back at his secretary. "We are going to Gotham to get my foolish son."
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moddersayethstuff · 3 years
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So I decided to write down my massive headcanons on how Inkling Biology works, such as what their body is composed of, how they can turn into smaller forms, how they can get “splatted” without actually dying (and can “respawn” via man-made devices), and how they can weaponize the Ink that their body creates. I might also reblog this later with details on how Sanitation works (and can be reversed), some genetic oddities certain Inklings have (such as claws or size differences), and other small tidbits.
The main things you need to understand: 1. Inklings is a term for a race of Humaniod Cephalopods, and subraces include primarily Squidlings, Octolings, and potentially others. 2. Magic exists in the form is reality-controlling energy that Human Mages used to be able to control. When Humanity died in the floods, this “Magic Energy” seeped into the oceans and caused many types of ocean life to evolve (because anyone who attended any kind of Biology class knows that creatures don’t evolve on their own and mutations are never beneficial). This Magic Energy can be controlled with focus (or a natural talent) but the average Inkling has only a small amount of control over it, which I’ll explain later.
With that out of the way, I’ll start with what the Inkling body is made of. To put it simply, Inklings are like onions (and ogres). They have Layers. To be more specific, two Layers, their inner Blood Layer, and their outer Ink Layer. The Blood Layer contains all their internal organs, such as their lungs, stomach, heart(s), brain, and formations of cartilage function similar to bones. They also have an Ink Sac that produces a weaker version of the Ink their Ink Layer is made up of. The Ink Layer covers the Blood Layer, and consists entirely of a special form of Ink that can form into a kind of skin on the outside, as well as their eyes. The only natural holes in the Ink Layer that allow access to the Blood Layer are in their mouths so they can eat, small slits in their ears so they can hear, their noses so they can breath, and in the… downstairs regions so they can… you know. Should their skin be cut, Ink will leak out, but it’s no-where near harmful to an Inkling’s health and will at most weaken them a bit. But should anything damage the border between their Ink and Blood Layers (say, someone stabbed them with a sword), most of the time it will be fatal. Recovery is possible, provided their internal organs aren’t too damaged, but they would be unable to change into their Squid Form or it’s a painful, permanent death. In fact, damage to the Blood Layer is the only real way to permanently kill an Inkling, provided they keep their Blood Layer safe they can survive for a long time, until they naturally die at around age 100-110.
Inklings posses an uncanny connection to the Magic Energy that triggered the Oceanic Evolution, which allows them to use their Ink in ways other creatures could never dream. All Inklings are born with a certain Ink Colour, which they can change with a bit of concentration. It’s very difficult to precisely change to a colour someone else is using, but this difficulty can be removed by making physical contact (ex. Placing a hand on someone’s arm), and changing colour this way allows for perfect replication of someone else’s Ink. Mimicking someone else’s Ink Colour has several benefits, such as being able to swim in someone else’s Ink. As an Inkling reaches age 13-15, they begin to attune to the Magic Energy inside of their Ink, and can activate a powerful ability (which, by Mage Standards, is technically a Spell, but no one really cares about that fact). This ability displaces their Blood Layer, storing it in a sort of Pocket Dimension, while their Ink Layer morphs to a smaller cephalopod form, known commonly as a Squid Form or Octo Form, or the umbrella term Ink Form. This allows them to protect their Blood Layer from any damage, including falling from a great height or getting cut. They can also easily slip through grates and nets, being essentially liquid held together via Magic Energy. Because their eyes are a part of their Ink Layer, they can still see, but can’t smell. They can also hear, but the sound is very muffled. Their brain, stored in the Pocket Dimension, telepathically exists within the confines of the Ink Form, allowing it to control the body (telepathy is canon in Splatoon, see Judd who is canonically a Telepath/Psychic). The Ink Form can submerge itself in Ink, and it can sense what is outside of it, as well as move through it quickly. It can also absorb Ink into the Ink Layer, which is then deposited in an Ink Tank (or similar Ink Storage methods such as Inkweave) upon returning to their normal Humanoid Form. Originally, ancient Inklings were unable to take their clothing and equipment with them when they activated their Ink Form, but some studied and trained and perfected the art of storing their external gear in the Pocket Dimension when they switched, and gradually this technique became part of the Spell the Inklings naturally use (most of the time, but the few who don’t naturally have this ability can gain it the same way the ancients did). Also, Inklings in Ink Form are unable to hold things in their tentacles without wrapping their tentacles around the object they want to hold (and they aren’t very strong either).
When Ink of another colour makes contact with an Inkling’s Ink Layer, they feel uncomfortable and may be physically slowed, and too much foreign Ink causes their Ink Layer to detonate, but (due to more ancient practices that have been ingrained in the modern populace) their Ink Layer and gear are displaced, similar to if they turned to Ink Form. This displaced body, with no Ink Layer tied to it, is trapped in limbo until their Ink Sac can generate enough Ink to rebuild their Ink Layer, a process that can take anywhere from a day to almost half a week, whereupon they respawn the same place they were splatted. However, scientific research created devices that pulled in the displaced Inklings and accelerated the process, allowing them to respawn almost immediately. Inklings possess a special organ in their Blood Layer known as an Ink Sac, which creates Ink the same colour as their Ink Colour, and this Ink is pumped into their Ink Layer, but the special Ink that the Ink Layer consists of and the Ink the Ink Sac produces is slightly different. Regular Ink can be drawn out of an Ink Layer and can be stored externally via an Ink Tank/other method of Ink Storage (see above), or ejected forcefully via an Inklings mouth. This Ink Spit is how the ancient Inklings originally weaponize do their Ink, before tools that could shoot their Ink for them were created. Weapons contain siphons in their handles, similar to Ink Tanks, and draw out regular Ink stored in the Ink Layer for use. Often, Inklings will draw Ink out from their tanks as it gets siphoned into their Weapons, a trick that takes a bit of time to learn but eventually becomes almost second-nature for competitive Inklings. Ink sticks to most surfaces, except for some materials including certain types of metal, fabric, and plastic, as well as all liquids.
Other notes:
Inklings have tentacles comprised entirely of their Ink in their Humanoid Form that functions similar to hair, and it can change shape at the Inkling’s will, but most of the time these tentacles serve no functional purpose. Some Inklings have more dexterity with their tentacles than others, with the average Octoling having more control with their thicker and fewer tentacles than Squidlings. However, on the rare occasion that an Inkling loses a limb (usually if it gets severed but their main body is fine, they will heal over the wound and their Ink Layer will cover it up, a process that can take a few weeks) they will have a greater dexterity with their tentacles, a phenomenon that medical scientists are still trying to fully understand.
Certain chemicals have an effect on an Inkling’s Ink Layer that is similar to the effect of foreign Ink, and should any of these chemicals be mixed into bodies of water, any Inkling that submerges in this water will have their Ink Layer detonate, resulting in the same effect as being splatted. Submerging in bodies of water that don’t have those chemicals or getting rained on/having a shower is perfectly safe, and Inklings, being sea creatures, are also very comfortable being wet. Most Turf War arenas have these chemicals in the water as a hazard during competitive matches, but they dissolve quickly leaving the water safe again. Often, more casual Turf War matches between friends omit these chemicals, as pushing one of your friends into water is very, very funny.
Regular Ink, when applied to a surface, stays for about 5-7 minutes, before natural microbes in the air cause the Ink to evaporate. The special Ink that makes up an Inkling’s Ink Layer is unaffected.
And that’s pretty much it! I’ve got a lot of other headcanons and thoughts on this topic but I’ll save those for later. I’ll prolly reblog this post with addendums if I do so. Also note that I use all this for my Splatoon fanfic Inkopolis Rising, as well as several other Splatoon AUs and stories.
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meow-bebe · 4 years
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stellatus
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Pairing: Lee Felix x artist!reader
Genre: fluffffff
Warnings: literally nothing. this is so sweet asghk we’re channeling the cute here. like honestly not even my usual cussing
Word count: 3614 (!!!)
A/n: remember that idea I posted a while ago? well heres the fic! Im suuuper proud of this one because its the longest thing ive written for this blog (3k! more than 3k! that makes me so happy ahhhh!) and also I just really love it! usually I don't particularly like my own writing but this one I feel like is my best work. also about half way through writing this I found this amazing drawing by @panini-byanyothername​ which gave me the encouragement to finish this and also deserves all of the love because its an amazing piece of art! it was drawn based on another fanfic but its super pretty and is very close to what my story is about so I thought it would be appropriate to include a link
~~~
stēllātus; first/second-declension adjective starry, stellate, starred
“I have an idea,” you announced, bouncing with excitement as you ran into the room where Felix was currently sat at your desk on his computer. Latching your arms around Felix’s neck from behind, you rested your chin gently on his shoulder. 
“And what would that be?”he asked, spinning the office chair he sat in and successfully rotating within your arms. 
“I want to paint on you!” you said brightly as Felix’s hands came to rest on your waist as you snuggled closer, plopping down into his lap. 
“What?” Felix asked, slightly startled by your bold proposition. 
“I want to paint on you,” you repeated, “like, kind of use you as a human canvas?” It came out more as a question than a statement, and you grinned awkwardly, the incredulous tone of his voice making you shy. 
“I’m not opposed,” Felix mused, and you immediately brightened back up again. “Why though?”
“Well,” you said, fingers playing with the strings of his hoodie, “first of all you’re the only person I have on hand at the moment.” You giggled, and Felix raised a hand to his chest in mock offense. “But I’ve always loved painting on skin. There’s some strange appeal that comes with turning another human being into art. Unfortunately, I’ve only ever done it on myself before, but I had this really amazing idea a while ago and have held onto it forever and you are absolutely perfect for it.” You finished by pressing a sweet kiss to his nose. “So?” you asked eagerly, “what do you say? Let me paint on you?”
Felix chuckled lightly, and you could feel the deep vibrations where your hands were set on his chest. “Aren’t you going to tell me what your amazing idea is?” 
“Nope!” you said cheerfully, popping the ‘p’ as you smiled happily, “You’ll just have to say yes and see what I do. It will be beautiful, I promise.” 
Felix playfully narrowed his eyes at you. “You won’t do something stupid or make me look weird?”
“I would never,” you said, sticking out your littlest finger, “pinky swear. And anyway, nothing could ever make you look weird, pretty boy.” Felix’s eyes widened at your compliment, a light shade of red creeping across his cheeks as he wrapped his pinky around yours. No matter how often you complimented him he always had the sweetest flustered reactions. 
“What are we waiting for then?” you practically vaulted out of his lap, tangling your fingers together and tugging on his hand to try and get him to follow you. 
“What, now?” he asked, a bewildered look on his face.
“Yes, now,” you said, pulling on his hand again, “I can’t wait any longer, I’m dying to finally do this.”
“Alright,” Felix said, laughing as he stood up from the desk, whatever he was working on earlier abandoned as you enthusiastically pulled him along to the spare bedroom turned art studio. 
“Here,” you said, tossing one of the already paint-stained cushions you often put to use out of the closet, “sit down while I find what I need.” 
Felix grabbed the cushion and set it on the large, clear plastic mat you always kept set out over the hardwood floors. There were several places you had set up for painting, laying on the floor and the easel by the window being two of your favorites, and you rotated between them depending on how you were feeling that day. It seemed like today was a sprawled across the floor day, although that made sense, Felix reasoned, if you were going to be painting on him. He sat down and watched as you zipped back and forth across the room, picking through your jars of brushes and bins of paints to find the supplies you would be using. 
Thrusting one of the mason jar mugs you used to wash out your brushes at Felix, you asked, “Could you go fill this up with water for me?” He nodded compliantly, pulling himself up off the floor and traipsing across the hall to the bathroom to fill the glass mug with water. When he came back into the room, you had set up a jar of brushes to pick through, tossed a few tubes of paint to the floor next to the two cushions, and were currently spread across a decent portion of the floor with one of the large folders you had labeled as “inspiration and references.” These were collections of anything you could possibly want to give you ideas or utilize in your art, ranging from newspaper clippings, old photographs, passages from books and poems scrawled on torn notebook paper (or on the more rare occasion, printed out), and absolutely filled to the brim with doodles and practice drawings. You were a firm believer in the idea that anything could be reused or help inspire you in the future, which ultimately lead to your large collection. Usually you tried to date the bits of paper you tucked away, but it didn’t help with your chronic lack of organization. 
“What are you searching for?” Felix questioned, assuming that you wouldn’t answer but asking anyway. 
“Can’t tell,” you said, eyes twinkling with a spark of mischief, “it’s supposed to be a surprise, remember?” 
“Okay, okay, I’ll stop asking. What do you want me to do then?” he asked, looking around the room and wondering what you had planned for him. 
“Just sit, I’ll find it in a moment.” Felix settled himself back down on the floor as you continued to rifle through the folder barely containing the papers inside it. He watched as you carefully separated a few glossy photos that had stuck together and shuffled through a stack of what appeared to be old school work. “Aha!” you shouted victoriously, startling Felix and holding a few taped together pieces of paper in the air. 
“What’s that?” he asked, his curiosity over both the project itself and the haphazardly folded but carefully assembled papers in your grasp too much to handle. 
To his surprise, you gave in this time. “Star chart!” you chirped, obviously too pleased with yourself to continue hiding your intentions. “I’ve always loved space, specifically stars, and I took an astronomy class in high school but never got rid of the papers that weren’t just worksheets. I always hoped that someday I would be able to use them for painting. And here we are!” Felix smiled at the happy grin lighting up your whole face, your excitement too endearing to not acknowledge. 
“Cute.” Felix grinned happily as you shuffled over to where you had set up all of your supplies. All of a sudden his smile turned bashful, stammering slightly as he asked, “Should I like, take my shirt off or something then?” 
You giggled, setting down the star chart and plucking a thin marker from amongst the plethora of materials. “Not this time. I want to do your face!” 
“What?” Felix gasped, eyes widened in surprise. 
“I want to paint on your face!” you repeated, excitement fading as you rolled the marker between your hands, suddenly nervous. “Your freckles, specifically. Only if you’ll let me though.” You fidgeted slightly, focused on the marker before looking up at Felix who still wore a slightly startled expression. 
“My - my freckles?” he asked, and you nodded. 
“Yeah. Finding patterns that match my constellations-” you patted the papers sitting beside you - “and then turning your face into a little galaxy.” 
“Y/n,” he said softly, and you braced yourself to be turned down, “I think that’s the most amazing thing you’ve ever come up with. Why would I ever say no?” 
Your eyes shot up to find Felix’s, and you could see all of the adoration that he held for you in their depths. “Really?” you asked, pulling yourself into his lap and tucking your arms around his waist.
“Really,” he confirmed, sealing a gentle kiss against your mouth. “Now, how do you want to go about this?” 
You clamored off of Felix, grabbing the marker from where you had dropped it at his side and snatching the star chart into your hands before thrusting it at Felix. “Pick a few that you like, and I’ll see if what I can do to weave them out of your freckles,” you said, placing the folded chart into his hands and backing off to begin rifling through the paint tubes you had chosen. “Try not to do anything too difficult, I think the simpler ones would look better for this.” 
Leaving him to pour over the constellations, you realized that you had overlooked finding a palette earlier in your scramble to find paints, so you pulled yourself up off the floor to move to the closet once again. Shoving a few bins of paints and stacks of assorted canvases to the side, you finally found the collection of palettes stored near the back of the shelf. Just barely managing to get your finger under the one on the bottom (the shelf was slightly too high, not enough to really bother you, but it could be a minor inconvenience sometimes), you dragged the precariously balanced stack towards yourself. 
“What about Lyra?” Felix called from behind you. 
“That would work,” you mused, shuffling through the pile in search of one not too caked in dried paint. 
“Or Aquila?”
“Also fine,” you responded, selecting a mostly clean palette. “I really want to try Draco, so we’ll do that one first and then fit the others on after that. Sound good?” 
"Anything you want to do is good with me," he replied, and you turned to see the pretty blush staining his cheeks.
"But you're the one making this project come to life," you said, crossing the room in a few steps and settling down in front of him. "You should have some input."
"I'm merely the final product in this situation. You, y/n, are the one bringing it to life." Now it was your turn to grow flustered by his compliments. 
"Oh hush," you said, searching on the floor for the marker you had set down.
Finding your marker, you uncapped it and scooted closer to Felix. "Ready?" you asked.
He looked at the marker warily. "I thought you were painting."
"I am painting, but I have to sketch it out first," you laughed. "I always do."
"Oh," he said, looking down shyly. He always loved to watch you paint, however paying attention to the process was something else entirely. "Well go on then."
Studying his face carefully, you placed a small dot on top of a freckle close to the top of his cheek. Glancing back at the star chart, you drew another right under it, and awkwardly angled your pen to try and reach better. Pulling the papers mapping out your reference closer, you shuffled to the side and drew another dot.
"This isn't working very well," you said, taking Felix's chin in your hand and tilting his head to the side to try and reach better. "I might move you again, so try not to move and tell me if it's too uncomfortable."
Felix nodded in response just as you set the tip of the marker against his cheek, leaving a small inky streak down his face. You sighed. "Next time just say you heard me. I'm going to get the rubbing alcohol.” You stood up and headed to the bathroom, opening the cabinet and rummaging around to find the necessary bottle. Finding what you needed, you stood up and crossed the hallway once again to rejoin Felix.
"Here." Felix held out a cotton ball that he had no doubt found in the depths of one of your many bins of random art supplies.
"Thanks," you said quietly, already flipping the top of the rubbing alcohol open and soaking the cotton in liquid before scrubbing it gently across Felix's cheek. He held still for the moment, letting you remove the ink from his face and watching your movements carefully.
"Done?" he asked as you tossed the now somewhat grey cotton ball to the floor.
"Yep." you picked up your marker again. "Good to go?" He nodded again, this time making sure that the marker was nowhere near his skin.
You set back to work, switching between analyzing the star chart and making small dots where you could connect the freckles strewn across Felix's face to resemble the constellation you had picked.
After readjusting Felix's face for the nth time, you sighed. “This isn’t working,” you complained, capping your marker and letting your hand fall into your lap. 
“I can tell,” Felix mused. “Any ideas?”
You tilted your head, scanning over his face, and Felix could see the imaginary lightbulb pop up above your head as a grin spread across your face. “Maybe,” you said cheekily, crawling into his lap and once again uncapping your marker. Placing the non inky end into your mouth, you cupped your hands around Felix’s cheeks, gently moving his head around until you think you’ve found the perfect angle. “Don’t move.” 
Finding that your new vantage point gave you perfect access to the soft skin of your boyfriend’s cheeks, you steadily set back to work, sketching light lines between the makeshift “stars” that quickly began to fill the freckles dotted across Felix’s face. 
“Alright! I’m all done.” You leaned back a bit to admire your work, already extremely happy with the way that everything was turning out. “And now -” you clambered off Felix’s lap to let him stretch while you gathered the scattered supplies necessary for the next step of your project - “we paint!” 
Felix giggled at the enthusiasm spreading a happy brightness across your face, bringing you closer for a chaste kiss as soon as you had settled yourself back across him. Clasping the brush you had picked up between your teeth as you seemed prone to do, you grabbed two of the few tubes of paint selected from a small box of metallics Felix wasn’t aware you had and unscrewed the one containing silver paint. Squeezing a small amount onto the palette in your other hand, you replaced the cap and set it to the side. 
You pulled the paintbrush from your mouth, and said, “This is it. No going back after I start painting,” you warned, absolutely failing to hide the playful tone in your voice. 
“I have sharpie all over my face,” Felix laughed, “I’m pretty sure we reached that point a while ago.” 
“Right,” you said, ducking your face a little, trying to hide your embarrassed expression. “Well then, let the painting begin!” Placing a sweet kiss to the tip of Felix’s nose, you swirled your brush through the silver paint and hesitantly hovered over the inked lines connecting his freckles. 
“You’re not going to mess this up,” Felix reassured, almost as if he could immediately pick up on your thoughts, “anything you paint is always beautiful and I have complete confidence in you.” 
The compliments flustered you even more, and muttering a soft, “Oh, be quiet,” you set your brush down, dragging the bristles across the lines you had laid down earlier. 
Felix shuddered under the cool touch of paint stroked across his face, and you backed off for a moment, letting him adjust to the foreign feeling. “Try not to move,” you said, setting down your palette and cupping his jaw sweetly. 
You painted thin, careful lines over all of the drawn out constellations, painstakingly smoothing the edges and adding a second layer to those where the black ink was still visible. While you kept all of your focus on the paintbrush in your hand, Felix lost himself in the way that you concentrated on the task you had set yourself to. He loved to watch you paint, and the experience was ten times better when you were right up close. Felix watched your expressions as you immersed yourself in your work, noticing every little forehead scrunch, loving the cute way that you would chew on your lip or poke your tongue out when you got to a particularly tricky spot. There wasn’t enough focus left to be self conscious when you truly absorbed yourself in your art, and it was times like these that Felix thought you were most true to yourself, which lead to it also being when he found you most beautiful. Not that you weren’t other times, certainly, but there was something enchanting about your little expressions and the way your hair would stick up from running your fingers through it. You would always have paint all over your hands, no matter how careful you had been, and when it was still wet the pigment often transferred to your face or hair. Of course you never noticed, and so Felix would let you know you should probably look in a mirror, but only after silently appreciating the way that the smudged paint on your forehead somehow only enhanced the glow of beauty that truly being in your element brought out.
“There we go!” you suddenly exclaimed, startling Felix out of his reverie. “I’m finished with the lines,” you told him, dropping your paintbrush into the cup of water and swishing it around a little. “Now I just have to do the stars.”
You leaned to the side and reached around Felix to grab the other tube of paint you had taken out and added some of the gold to the palette before screwing the cap back on and tossing it next to you. Balancing the palette on your knee, you grabbed the cup containing your brush and dragged it toward you. Quickly and thoroughly rinsing the paint from the bristles, you wiped off the excess water and took Felix’s face into your hand once again, gently maneuvering him back into a position where you could easily paint. 
Now used to the feeling, Felix didn’t startle when you began painting again, the cool touch of the paint to his cheek calming. You worked steadily, crossing tiny strokes to form the stars connecting the constellations created by his freckles. Every now and then you would shift in his lap, or make sure that the angle his head was at wasn’t making his neck ache, but for the most part you worked silent and still. 
You smoothed tiny lines into shapes, keeping them tidy and occasionally layering more paint on where it had smudged or the first coat had been too thin. After finishing one of the stars higher on his cheek, you leaned back to admire your work. 
“I think I’m done,” you said softly, wiping a bit of golden paint off Felix’s forehead. 
“Can I see?” he asked, plucking the paint brush out of your fingers and placing it in the paint water. 
You nodded, climbing out of his lap and gesturing towards the messy desk in the corner of the room. “There should be a mirror up there. I’m going to go get my Polaroid camera.” You loved that camera, it had been a gift from a friend years ago, and you only pulled it out for special occasions. Felix knew how much it meant to you, and the fact that you wanted to capture this moment with it warmed his heart. 
When you returned to the room, Felix was sitting back on the cushions you had pulled out, the small hand mirror next to him on the floor. “It’s beautiful, y/n,” he said, and you smiled at the compliment, whispering a quiet “Thanks.” 
“Where do you want me?” Felix asked, nodding towards the camera in your hands. 
“By the window, probably,” you said, “I think backlighting would look good for this.” It was reaching late afternoon now, and the sun was beginning to sink to the horizon quickly. The golden light would shine through his hair beautifully, and Felix always glowed in the sunlight. 
The two of you moved to the other side of the room, and Felix quickly set himself up in front of the window. 
“Should I pose or something?” Felix asked, and you shook your head in response. 
“Just do what feels natural,” you said, squinting at him through the viewfinder on your Polaroid before lowering it to watch him adjust for the photo. He seemed to relax under your gaze, and turned his head to the side so he was looking straight into the lens as the light washed over the paint trailed across his face, illuminating the shine of the metallics you used. He stilled after a moment, and after you were sure he wasn’t going to move, you pressed the shutter. The camera began printing your photo, and after a moment you plucked it from the slot, pressing it between your lips and bringing the camera back up to your eye. 
“I want to take one more,” you mumbled around the developing photo in your mouth, “close your eyes for me?” Felix complied, letting his lashes flutter against the top of his cheeks as a small smile settled across his face. You snapped your second photo, bringing the camera down and tucking the earlier in between your fingers as you waited for the second to print. Felix came to stand next to you, taking the second photo and looking over your shoulder to see how the first one turned out. 
As you watched the color seep onto the glossy paper you knew that the stars across his cheeks, no matter how pretty they were, could never compare to the stars that shone in his eyes. He was truly beautiful, and standing there with your camera in hand, his hair brushing against your cheek, you were never more aware.
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neptunesnxpple · 4 years
Text
he doesn’t seem like a demon [1/?]
18+ only, Minors Do Not Interact
Shigaraki Tomura x M!Reader
Warnings: sharp nails, sharp teeth, blood (not a lot and definitely not the focus)
Tags: male reader, demon shigaraki, reader tends to a garden in the mountains, not like an enemies to lovers thing but I guess like an opposing threats to lovers
Word Count: 1751
[Part 1] | Part 2 | Part 3
At mornings twilight, you rubbed the crust from your eyes, staring at the empty blackened window and waiting for the first inkling of energy to send through your body. First to your toes and your fingers, then up the arms, the legs, stalling at your torso before filling the rest of you with a dull sense of awareness. You sat up, and slowly got dressed without a single sound as though the morning was wrapped tight and the tiniest noise would pop the plastic keeping it all together. While you didn’t directly see any proof of a sun, the skys’ blue was more of a grayed over murky blue than the inky one that covered the night, fading stars clinging for as long as they were able to. You locked the door behind you, going through your morning routine. You stocked up at the shed, shovel, shears, fertilizers, signed in on the sheet, and wheeled it over to the far corner of the many acres surrounding the visitors center, each side rimmed with a thick layer of wisteria, their purple flowers dangling delicately from the branches. Because of how thick the mountain passage was, it took a while before any light could cut through the scrub brush and towering trees. The only relief was the wisteria patches, their downy foliage creating gaps and leading to the inner gardens, an assortment of decorative fruit and flowering trees along guided paths. You began by picking up the fuzzy seed pods, placing them in the pouch of your apron and getting your pruning shears. You were torn from your morning routine by a gravely voice,
 “Boy, do you have anything edible in that cart? I’ve been travelling for quite some time and haven’t found lodging,” the man said, his lithe, spindly body seemed to be wasting away. He had unnaturally white hair, cut choppily and dressed only in tattered black pants. The latter was not unusual in these parts, people often came to train in the mountains,
 “No, sorry. We do have visitor housing beyond the main gates, if you’re in need,” you smiled nervously, trying to meet his eyes. You watched as he scratched at his neck with untamed nails, although claws or talons was more accurate of a description.
 “Could you come closer? I couldn’t hear you,” he rasped, if anything he looked labored by this interaction. You took it as feeling weary, the proof being the toned musculature on his arms and stomach lending you to confirm it for yourself: this was someone in training. You stood, walking over and planting yourself within the furthest edge of wisteria, the flowers looming overhead.
 “We have visitor housing available, although you will need to enter through the northern wisteria gates and follow the stone path towards the main pavilion. We offer food to our guests as well,” you had long since stopped trying to find his wandering eyes, taking special note of the strange scratch marks covering his limbs. He wrinkled his nose, baring his sharp teeth,
 “I never understood why people enjoyed that foul smelling flower,” he complained, digging into his neck harder before stopping, an unusual sense of calm washing over him as his muscles relaxed and a twisted smile took place. He offered a hand,
 “Nonetheless, would you mind coming out here and showing me the way?” his eyes, red and impossible to look away from captured your attention forcefully. As if on impulse alone, you started reaching outward for his hand, fingertips exposed. Before he could grasp onto them, you heard your supervisor shout from behind you. You whipped around, retreated your hand as you took in their message,
 “Don’t! All visitors must walk around the perimeter and enter through the northern wisteria gate!” dazed, you stared hazily as they ran across the grass, desperate to catch up before it was too late. Their sense of urgency confused you. Your head felt heavy, unable to make sense of it. No matter, you were more drawn to the stranger on the other side reaching out again- you had to- when an arm looped around your midsection and yanked you back. “Don’t trust him, there’s a reason he wants you out of the wisteria. Look at his hands- rough and sharp like a beast, if he catches your eyes you won’t be able to resist,” they warned, pulling you deeper into the wisteria. You watched as the stranger got further and further away, unable to break eye contact until eventually he disappeared into the woods.
 “He didn’t seem like a beast, just someone training in the woods. He asked if he could spend the night here in the visitor housing.” Your fingers fumbled with the fluffy wisteria seeds in your pocket. Your mind felt muddled, aware of the conversation but doubting its integrity. Something was overpowering your voice of reason.
 “They never do. There’s a reason why we keep the wisteria hanging around the edges, and it’s not just for aesthetics. These creatures can’t touch wherever their shadow lands, they hate the calming scent, and they absolutely will do whatever it takes to get someone to cross that boundary,” they finally released you under the awning of the main building, checking your hands and wrist thoroughly, and lastly your neck. Satisfied, they let go.
 “I will take care of the minor parts of your duties for today, just do what you can to wash that creature from your mind. You can come back to work tomorrow, but you’re no use to me if you’re unable to think clearly,” they reached over, doing one last check behind the ear as if searching for a tiny tick before sending you off. You wandered towards your modest cabin, unable to tear your mind away from that mysterious figure. The strange scratches all over their body, the lack of bruising, the scabbed and raw neck with the devilishly sharp nails digging into them. He didn’t seem like a beast. Maybe a little rude, but not a beast. Overwhelmed with exhaustion, you laid in your bed, unable to crawl under the sheets, and settled in for a nap.
 When you awoke, the window was dark once more. You checked the clock, the hand ticking and ticking letting you know that time had not stopped on your account. While you weren’t sure of the dreams you had, that face seemed to pop in and out. Hollow, ghoulish grin with red eyes. Teeth sharper than any animal you’d ever seen and shock white hair, untamed. His nails were exceedingly long, dragging across your neck one by one until red lines formed. There seemed to be some sort of protrusions sprouting out of his head. You rubbed your face, pulling yourself out of the thought. It was earlier than you’d usually wake up for work, and you were starving. Had a whole day really passed? You checked your pantry and the counter beneath it. Already you felt more levelheaded, the cloud that hung overhead no more, and your wits sharpened as you ate quietly. Watching the window. Your supervisor mentioned not to make eye contact, but there was no harm in conversation as far as you could tell. You would again tend to the wisteria, this time with more success. Who was to say if he’d even come back? Your growing curiosity gave way to disappointment at the thought. What if he never returned? Logically, you knew it would be for the better, at least if he were truly a beast. You took your time, writing and crafting until you had nothing left to say or add, and went to the shed where you once more signed out materials and returned to your spot from the previous morning. The pods were still in your pocket where you left them.  You resumed as you were, picking up wasted pods and the leftover seeds they spilled, it was easy enough to get back in rhythm. The hair on your arms and neck prickled.
 “You didn’t come back yesterday. I couldn’t find the gate.” Somehow, that felt like a lie. You kept your head down, pruning adventurous branches.
 “If you continue up this side and turn left you will walk by it.” Sweat dotted your forehead, hands shaking and heart thrumming. You wanted to take a peek. You couldn’t remember why you were so enthralled the day before, or if it was just some phantom dream that made you so curious. Your supervisors’ harsh words stamped firmly on any contradictory thought, fighting it for now.
 “It would be easier if you were to show me. I’ll leave you on your way,” he persisted, unmoving. You wondered how he got here without making a single noise. You tried to ignore him, ignore the urge to face him. “I had to sleep outside last night,” you couldn’t help it, your head swiveled sharply as if controlled by a higher being, eyes wide and blinded by the man in front of you. Part of you was relieved. The haunting illusion in your dream was not as frightening in person. There were no stumps growing from his forehead. No jagged teeth jutting out of his mouth. Perhaps it was because you had seen him hours earlier in slumber, or perhaps it was the supervisor’s words echoing in your head, but you found it easier to cast your gaze downward. Earning a disgruntled noise. Just as you thought, his nails didn’t seem as sharp, not like you remembered. You stood.
 “I’ll walk you towards the gate,” you carried the shovel with you, gripping the wooden handle and walking underneath the wisteria trellis, not stopping to see if he’d follow. The soft crunching of leaves told you he was. Your heart leapt into your throat. If he were a beast, he couldn’t come in. But then what? You had never met one before, not sure of the proper protocol, or of the signs. It was when you turned the corner toward the northern side that the soft rustling of leaves and snapping of twigs stopped. You halted your gait, “is something the matter?” your grip tightened around the shovel, sweat dripping down the sides of your face and mouth dry.
 “I’ll come back another day, I have training to do.” He stated, a hint of bitterness at the end of that. The heavy air around you vanished, causing you to collapse on the ground, panting with arms shaking to hold yourself up. It took you until the sun fully rose to finally gain the strength to stand, returning to your gardening tasks and using the grooming as a well needed distraction.
 You didn’t see the mysterious stranger until two weeks later, startled awake by a vision. The same ghoulish face, haunting, fangs poking out of his mouth and this time you were sure of it- two sharp horns curling out of his forehead and pointing right at you. Although this time you had a feeling he was… hungry? You checked the time. Five in the morning. More than enough time to whip something up and set aside something on the off chance your dream became a reality. If not, a nice snack for later. You boxed up the rice and greens, not really sure what to bring along, and switched into your work clothes, smock full of pods. You grabbed the shovel, shears, and extended leaf trimmer, bringing a five-gallon bucket along for the ride and set yourself up in the wisteria. It was short work before your guest arrived, this time you heard them approaching and stop short at a neighboring tree.
 “You haven’t been around recently.”
 “I’ve been training.” You hummed in acknowledgement, setting your tools aside and rummaging through your bag, pulling out the container of rice and greens and a complementary set of cutleries. You placed them gingerly out from underneath the wisteria.
 “I brought you something to eat,” you retreated back within its grasp, picking up the tree cutter for the hard to reach spots. You ignored the way your chest tremored with pride as you heard the scraping against the bowl, all quiet except for the occasional grunt. The bowl rattle as it was placed on the ground.
 “Why didn’t you add any meat? It was almost not even worth eating,” he retreated back to the base of a neighboring tree, watching.
 “You ate it all, did you not?” you replied between hooking small branches and trimming. You’d have to bring a ladder later on to get the topmost branches. “What team do you train with? I haven’t seen anyone else around recently.”
 “The rest of the team prefers to train at night, and rest during the day. We’re a newer group,” he began the dull scratching of the neck.
 “And you don’t? Must be pretty lonely.”
 “I do, I just can’t sleep as easily.”
 “And where do they stay? That you couldn’t also?” You could tell the question took him off guard, the only sound being the creak of the tree branches pulled by the wind and the tattering of their leaves. It was beautiful in the spring, the young fresh green leaves and the comfortable temperature. Chilly in the morning with dew leaving a damp sheen on all of the plants. You again heard the sound of snapping twigs coming closer, something lightweight placed beside the bowl. You carefully traced the ground, the lost petals, the pebbles, all the way to a small pair of black gloves placed beside the bowl. Neat, sleek, with a small gold charm in the shape of a hand attached to the cuff. He was gone. You didn’t touch the bowl or the gloves until you finished your work. You held them in your hands, turning them over. They were work gloves. Although they looked far too slim for your hands, let alone strong enough to hold up against a sturdy root or a thorny branch. Even so, you slid your hands into the gloves, feeling the smooth fabric stretch around your hands.
 You took your lunch inside, searching for your supervisor and tucking the gloves in your pouch.
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mbavholidayexchange · 3 years
Text
to @oceanographerschoice from @rowsha
title: holidays are for making you blush
rating: teen and up audiences
summary:
the story of a vampire learning to be loved, and the two idiots who love him.
ao3 link: link
content:
Rory Keaner grew up different from his boyfriends.
Not so much different from Benny, as they both grew up with a single parent, but much more different than Ethan. He sort of (definitely) envies Ethan in a way (in many ways); he envies his nuclear family, his good grades, his smarts, his humor, and-
His flat chest.
He envied Benny's too. Both of them, unlike Rory, grew up and identified as cisgender boys. Nothing changed about their wardrobe when they got to middle school. Neither of them had to deal with a substitute teacher who didn't know the chosen names of everyone in their class. They didn't live with the shame, the tears, the want to be someone other than themselves- they've been with each other since they were both in diapers. And Rory would never have that bond with the two of them. He would never be able to relate to them the way that they related to each other.
The jokes, the references, and the longing, knowing gazes they would shoot in the direction of the other. Rory didn't know what it was like to have someone know you inside and out. He knew the concept of his body was… an enigma all on its own. He knew his own brain betrayed him when it came to understanding a word Ethan and Benny were saying to each other half the time.
So, becoming a vampire made things…
The day he got bit was easily the best and worst day of his life. It was rushed, it was peer pressure, it was the way Rory felt waking up into a body he finally felt was his. But at the same time… he felt dead. No matter how you looked at it- he was a dead person, that was a part of him now. He didn't have a beating heart, just still blood that stayed cold and dead like cement flowing throughout his veins. He had no need to eat, but he still ate (in other ways). He didn't need sleep, not because he was immortal, but because the thought of never being the person he was before… it tore him up inside.
For the way he was born and for the way he transformed, he knew he wouldn't be the same as his boyfriends ever again. After all, they were human- well, minus Ethan because he's some type of prophet for the supernatural. And Benny too, what with him being a "spellmaster" as Grandma Weir put it. So, okay, maybe they weren't fully human. But they would grow old and live life the way it was meant to be lived- with death. And Rory would have to watch them die and be alone for all of eternity. Who else (other than a seer and witch) would be able to love someone so… noticeably undead?
To Rory's surprise, Benny and Ethan didn't really care whether he was alive or "undead." they cared about keeping Rory safe from being found out. They stole bags from the blood drive, they picked up extra sunblock for him at the corner store. Sunglasses, hoodies, rats- the whole nine yards. Just to make Rory happy. Just to keep him from exposure. it made him wonder if all those intrusive thoughts of never being to love again once they were dead were valid at all. He feels like, to a certain degree, the thought of his boyfriends staying with him (even after they were long gone) would be enough for him to make it on his own.
There were still other things about being a vampire trapped in a girl's body that bothered him. On one hand, he could run away from his mom and live his life and live somewhere with Ethan and Benny in the woods. Like they did in Dusk. On the other hand, he could tell someone other than those two what was going on, and that he needed help (a cure, a surgery, something). If he stayed the way he was, trapped inside his room with the curtains drawn and sneaking vermin into his room, he would stay like that until his mom noticed he wasn't aging and find out the awkward way. But if he just told somebody maybe it would be hard and he could find a cure like Sarah did and live and die with Benny and Ethan and-
No. That's not possible.
He can't tell anyone. Not a single soul. that he's a vampire- that he's transgender. That his disgusting, embarrassing name is Tabitha Abigail Keaner and that's the name he has to hear over and over and over at home. At a place that doesn't feel like home because home was wherever Ethan and Benny were.
But he can't keep it in any longer. Surely, it's going to get blurted out eventually. Or written in a note followed by "I've decided to skip town, you'll never see me again, goodbye everyone." He wondered, sometimes, how much a bus ticket would cost.
Not a lot of it makes sense, and not a lot of it should make sense. But he knows that no matter how horrible his home life will get, and no matter how much he wants to correct teachers and substitutes, he'll always have his home. Ethan will always put on a videogame and Benny will always order a pizza for the three of them. And they will always call him Rory, whenever they kiss or hold hands or ask him to pass the remote.
Rory decided that he wouldn't let the daunting gloom of immortality shake him as much as it did when he was just a fledgling. He decided that the future was malleable and the present was cement, because of Ethan throwing his controller and Benny slamming the door on the delivery guy's face. He cherishes what he has, even if it is two dorks in Canada. For now, as the thoughts of them dying swim in his mind's kiddie pool, Rory rests on Ethan's chest while holding Benny's hand.
-
"Chag ah molad baruch, Ror." Benny says, placing a kiss on Rory's cheek as they sat under Ethan's Christmas tree.
He blushes, both because of Benny's kiss and the embarrassment of not learning Hebrew fast enough. He looks down at the wrapped gift in his lap, sitting shiny and neat underneath a large plastic ribbon. He pulls Benny in for a hug. It only lasts for a second or two, before he pulls back to ask:
"That means 'blessed Yule', right?"
Benny laughs, then nods in agreement. He gives Rory another peck on the cheek and Rory has to try his best not to squeal like a Dusk fangirl.
"Or 'merry Christmas'," Ethan interjects, face stuffed with Grandma Weir's cookies, "but if you wanna look at its root meaning, it translates to-"
"Celebrating the birth of a male. Yes, E, we know." Benny and Rory both roll their eyes, knowing that Ethan was never slow when it came to languages.
Rory feels a bit bitter that Benny taught Ethan hebrew before him- but then again, they did meet before they met Rory, so it makes sense that Ethan would be almost fluent in it by now. Still, it didn't stop Rory from being jealous of their impenetrable bond.
Ethan shrugs, turning back to the cookie platter only to notice the last of the treats had been mysteriously eaten. He gasps dramatically, spinning around to face Benny and Rory, who were gleefully eating the remaining cookies together.
"Stupid vampire speed." he grumbles, sitting down next to the two of them. Rory ruffles his hair playfully, and he smiles.
"You should know you're no match for the vampire ninja, babe." Rory says matter-of-factly, resting on his elbows now. A smug smile was plastered on his face as Ethan scowled and Benny giggled.
"Yeah, yeah, whatever." he says with his arms crossed, "open my gift first."
"No way! My gift is cooler!" Benny says, pushing Ethan's gift out of Rory's lap and snapping his fingers. Suddenly, a small, beautifully wrapped box is in the other gift's place. It sparkles with magic air, shining (quite literally) as bright as a star.
"Wh- no fair! Yours didn't glow before! Take it back!" Ethan surges towards Benny, tackling him to the ground. They both struggle for a while, Benny pulling at Ethan's hair and Ethan trying to put Benny in a chokehold while Rory falls to the floor laughing.
After enough laughing, and concern for his boyfriends' well being, Rory decides to speak up.
"Okay, how about I open the gifts with my eyes closed? That way, whichever gift I pick is a surprise."
The two boys look up from their tangled position at Rory, Ethan's fist stopping mid-air above Benny's face. They look at each other, then shrug. They untangle themselves from each other, sitting prim and proper next to the tree. It makes Rory's smile even wider.
"Seems fair to me." Benny says.
"I don't see why not." Ethan agrees.
With that, Rory closes his eyes and begins to reach underneath the tree. He feels around for a bit, hand accidentally bumping the branches of the fake plant, until he feels a gift. He can't tell whose it is, but he knows that it's medium sized and wrapped in a bow. He thinks it might be the present from earlier. He picks it up and settles it on his lap, opening his eyes.
"To Rorster, from Ethan." he reads aloud, "looks like Ethan's is up first."
Benny groans in defeat, and Ethan pumps his fist in triumph. He briefly turns to Benny and kisses him apologetically, ruffling his hair. "Better luck next time, Ben."
"Go on, open it." Ethan encourages, arm around Benny.
Rory rips through the paper excitedly, making sure to keep the bow intact as he tears off the decorative wrapping. When all the paper is gone, he sees a familiar logo across the seal. His eyes widen in realization, mouth agape in wonder. Could Ethan really have pulled this off? No way- no way he could've done this…
"Ethan, you shouldn't have…" Rory says as he peels back the seal on the package, opening it to reveal-
A chest binder.
Not just any chest binder- a GC2B binder. And not just one, but multiple; a nude one that matches his skin tone, a black one, and a navy blue one. Rory clutches his hands over his mouth. He can't believe this… he knows how expensive these were, and he just… can't imagine how Ethan got the money to buy them.
"How- how did you-" Rory picks up the binders one by one, running his hands over the smooth material. Tears began to form in his eyes.
"It was nothing, really. I just used my birthday money from the past year or so and figured it would come in handy one day." Ethan said it like it was really nothing, shrugging nonchalantly as he leaned on Benny's side.
Rory, dumbfounded, couldn't keep his eyes off the binders. They seemed to shine brighter than the magic box, to glimmer in the light of the tree. The fabric felt silky smooth on one side, and perfectly rough on the other. It made Rory's heart want to leap out of his chest and swaddle his boys in the tightest of hugs. The tears from earlier were beginning to fall as Rory couldn't keep his happiness inside of him for much longer. The two boys began to take notice of his tears, wiping their own eyes themself.
"Well, I guess you gotta open mine now." Benny smirks when he says it, a glint in his eye that Rory knew all too well.
This is either going to be a very elegant gift or a very elaborate set up to a prank.
Rory opens the gift with caution, untying the ribbon around the small box. Still glowing, Rory has to squint his eyes to lift the top of the box off. He holds his hand over his eyes as if the sun was beaming directly into them. After a while, the light begins to die down.
"Jeez, Benny," Ethan rubs his irritated eyes, "did you have to make it so… painful to look at?"
"It's for the drama, dude."
Rory chuckles at that, wiping a light-induced tear from his eye as he reaches inside the box. His hand comes in contact with something small and… textured? It feels like a chain of some sort. He picks it up, then gazes in awe at the present in his palm.
"A locket? Ben…" true to his word, it's a real locket. The chain is silver, as is the heart shaped pendant hanging from it. Rory can see his reflection in the heart, and it makes his chest flutter.
"Open it!" Benny smiles from ear to ear, along with Ethan, who is just as in awe as Rory.
Doing as he's told, he opens the pendant. Inside is a picture of the three of them. They're at the place where they got those milkshakes that made Ethan discover he was lactose intolerant. As he blinks, the image changes. The picture of Benny and Ethan dressed as Ghostbusters on Halloween makes him remember the time they got swirlies from those jocks. It changes again to a moving image of Benny tripping and falling at the roller rink.
"I have no idea how you got pictures of these, but I love them. Thank you." Rory wraps his arms around Benny briefly, kissing him on the cheek as he lets go.
"It's a spell." Benny states proudly, "it shows all of your zikheronott semekhim- or 'happy memories', with the ones you love."
Ethan slaps him playfully on the shoulder. "You made my gift look like shit!"
Benny rushes to tackle Ethan, and they return to their shenanigans. They tussle on the floor again, looking like total geeks. Rory goes into another laughing fit as Ethan sits on Benny's back, trying to force him into a grotesque, spit-soaked kiss.
-
The next day, Rory proudly walks out of his house with a flat chest. His locket tucked safely under his shirt.
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A Familiar Face (Part 3)
This chapter isn’t quite as long as others, but when reader invites Ryan over for a home-cooked meal, they’re in for a huge surprise.
Rating: PG
Word count: 1637
Tags are at the below. If you’d like to be added to my tag list, just send a request my way.
Tagging: @dylanobrusso @obscurilicious @the-blind-assassin-12 @something-tofightfor @ms-delos @madamrogers @lexxirave
Enjoy!
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It had become a running theme.
Since the first day Ryan had accepted your offer for a cup of coffee and reprieve from the cold, he'd stopped by the diner fairly frequently, sometimes for a drink and sometimes for a full-on breakfast (eggs over easy, toast for dipping, bacon and home fries). Every time he visited, he left a tip. Every time you met him on the streets, whether a crowd of people had convened or he was playing for his own ears only, you'd return the tip by dropping it into his guitar case. Sometimes you'd pause and the two of you would share smiles; other times, you'd walk by without a look in his direction, as if nothing had happened.
The morning was unforgivably cold, and the last thing you wanted to do was pull on layer over layer of clothing and venture out. It was the first full day you'd had off in a week, and staying in, dressed in sweats and fuzzy socks and snuggled beneath warm blankets with mug after mug of tea sounded like heaven. Unfortunately, however, you didn't have much of a choice. Your pantry and refrigerator both looked sad.
Your internal clock woke you up early and by the time most people were rushing off to make it to their nine-to-five, you had locked up your apartment and stepped into the frigid, bone-chilling cold. There was an urgency to your step; you wanted to get to the supermarket as soon as possible-- you could thaw out in the freezer section-- but if you made a slight detour, you could see Ryan, and maybe, just maybe, gloat. You weren't working. He couldn't return your tip.
Smiling to yourself, you hadn't had to think twice about the route you'd take.
Bypassing him at first, your head down, you made your way to the diner and, with a few 'Good morning's, poured a hot cup of coffee. You didn't stick around, but instead crossed the street and made a beeline for Ryan's usual spot on the bench he occupied most days.  He was strumming a soft melody, his breath visible in short puffs, and your heart thudded heavily in your chest.
His jacket could not be considered a coat by any means, and though he had a scarf wrapped around his neck, it didn't seem very warm. The khaki hat he wore was nothing more than thin, worn material. It tug at your heartstrings, the knowledge that he was so cold.
"Good morning." You wasted no time as you came to a stop in front of him, coffee in hand. "I thought you could use this."
As you held out the warm coffee, tiny tendrils of smoke escaping from the plastic top, Ryan looked up at you in surprise. His eyes were so warm, you barely felt the cold anymore.
He grinned slowly, a boyish grin you found yourself longing to see, and soon the smile overtook his face.  He was all teeth and perhaps, even a small hint of a dimple. The dark eyes that held all his quiet demeanor wouldn't allow him to reveal aloud crinkled at the edges. You had drawn a full, genuine happiness out of him in that moment, just by something simple as a hot coffee.
In one simple movement, he released the neck of his guitar and let the curve of the instrument rest over his thigh. "Y/N, you really didn't have--"
"I wanted to," you interrupted, stuffing your gloved hands into your pockets. The familiar aroma wafted between the two of you as you offered him the cup. "I really just wanted to come over here to gloat. I'm not working today. No work, no tip exchange." You paused as he held the cup in both hands, warming his fingers. "I thought a coffee might soften the blow."
You smiled and he laughed, a low, deep rumble in his throat. "You gotta go back sometime." Raising the cup tentatively to his lips, he took a slight sip. "Why are you out on a day like this if you don't have to be?"
Your conversations were still fairly light and quite impersonal. Still, they were coming easier; it wasn't so difficult to draw words from Ryan anymore.
"A necessary evil in the name of food. All I've got to eat is stale bagels."
Hesitating for a moment, you shifted your weight and looked down at your booted feet. "This is the type of weather that begs for a hot meal," you continued, forcing yourself to raise your gaze to his face. "How do you feel about lasagna?" Before he could answer, you went on, rambling a bit. "It's my specialty, and it would be a shame to make an entire lasagna for one."
You stopped talking then, mostly out of fear that you sounded too presumptuous. So he came into the diner. He humored you with conversation and indulged you in a simple, sweet, cute game . He was a friendly guy... one you caught yourself wondering about far more often than you should. When was the last time he'd had a hot meal?
There was amusement in Ryan's dark eyes-- the darkest you'd ever seen, almost black in color-- but there was also a trace of wonder there.  And then, he gifted you with a smile. "Show me your secret recipe and I won't be able to resist taste-testin'."
Your face broke out in a look of anticipation, light in your eyes and a return of his smile. Narrowing your eyes in mock-suspicion, you eyed Ryan carefully as he drank from the coffee you'd brought him. "How do I know I can trust you?"
                                               *    *    *
There was literally nothing else for you to do before Ryan came for dinner. You'd tidied up your apartment-- you were a little OCD about clutter, so it hadn't been too bad in the first place-- and had done about all you could do with the lasagna besides baking it. The garlic bread you'd planned to make to go with the entree was buttered and sprinkled with seasoning, and that wasn't exactly something you could cook in advance.
You'd made quick plans with Ryan before heading to the grocery store, offering to meet him where he tended to play and walk back with him.  He had suggested that you meet around 7:00, which was perfect-- it was dusk by then, and he'd be packing up his things for the night. You made a mental note to arrive a few minutes early, just to stand by and hear a song or two without any need to rush. There were a few stragglers passing by, so bundled up against the cold it was nearly impossible to tell one from another. You'd hoped there would at least be a small crowd of people gathered, if only so you could stand behind a person or two and watch unseen.
It wasn't in the cards, however, and you stopped about a yard to the left of his usual bench, admiring the view. You noticed once again how his hair was overgrown at the back of his neck, how it curled behind his ears; the slight hunch of his shoulders and total ease with the guitar in his lap. It was far beyond your understanding how his fingers could move so fluidly and effortlessly in the cold, how he managed to sing the way he did, day after day, without being hoarse or getting a sore throat.
As his song grew to a close, you began to walk toward him, applauding as you did so. Drawing your hand out of your pocket, you dropped some cash into his guitar case to add to the tip money you'd given back that morning.
"I am merely a passerby who appreciated your entertainment," you said quickly with a wink, and before he could protest. "Innocent and thanking you by both the traditional way," you gestured to the guitar case he was setting his beloved instrument in, "And one that's not so traditional: dinner."
Ryan was wearing  a smile as you went on talking. Brushing his hands off on the thighs of his jeans, his eyes were trained on you. "You're really something else. Anyone ever told you that before, Y/N?"
You waited as he pulled on his pack and lifted his guitar case. "Nope. Never. Not once."
The two of you made the walk back to your apartment seem even shorter just by making small talk. You told him about some of the regulars at the diner; he told you about some of his old musician friends. 
"You're officially my first musician friend. Believe it or not, there aren't many--" Stopping short, you were just a yard away from your apartment when you noticed the door. It was slightly ajar, and you knew for a fact that you had closed and locked the place when you'd left. You were the type to double-check. Ryan stopped suddenly as you did, making the connection from your eyes to the door. "
You lock your apartment, Y/N?" His voice was low, quiet, and almost threatening in a sense.
"Yeah, always," you answered, and you looked up to him, drawing in a deep, shaky breath before you began hesitantly walking toward your door. Ryan was quick to catch up, his eyes unwavering from the door in case someone tried to run.
"Lemme go in first, check the place out. You stay by my side once we're in."
You nodded, your feeling as if you were moving underwater; it seemed exceedingly difficult to move, your brain unable to string words together. Your heart racing in panic, your froze just inches behind Ryan as he pushed your door the rest of the way open.
Your apartment had been ransacked.
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keelywolfe · 5 years
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FIC: Reaction Shots, ch.2 (baon)
Summary:   Still in the aftermath of the events of ‘Any Other Tuesday’.
Notes: All right, chapter one was from Edge’s POV. This time let’s see Andy Jeff!
Tags: Spicyhoney, Original Undertale Characters, Established Relationship, Hurt/Comfort, Angst, Prejudice Against Monsters, Violence, Injury, Prejudice from Police Officers, LV issues
part of the ‘by any other name’ series.
Read it on AO3
or
Read it here!
~~*~~
Andy Jeff
~*~
Since he’d met Stretch, hospital visits had become a thing again in Jeff’s life. A couple years ago he’d had an experience with them as well, when Julia finally told him what was going on. She’d been in hospice at that point and he’d spent a week there with her. Until it was over and he’d gone back to school because he didn’t know what else to do. Julia didn’t have much family, didn’t spend time with them, and seeing the way they went after her estate when she died made Jeff understand why. All he had left were pictures, but he hadn’t wanted more. What he really wanted was the impossible; he wanted her back, her laughter and her kindness. She’d loved cooking too, not like Edge, more haphazard and slapdash, usually tasty and sometimes requiring copious amounts of ketchup and Tabasco. He really missed her. But his fear that hospitals would remind him too much of her were proved wrong, to his relief. For starters, the Monster hospital was a lot nicer than the sterile hospice she’d spent her last days in. The rooms were airy and painted in soothing colors, with artwork on the walls and plants in corners. It was more like a hotel room than a hospital. Not that Stretch ever seemed to appreciate it. Every time Jeff had visited, his relief at seeing him was blatantly obvious and now that he was on the other side of the equation, Jeff could agree with him on one thing; hospitals were fucking boring. Not they were supposed to provide amusement along with healthcare, of course. But as exhausted as he was, Jeff couldn’t sleep and time was dribbling away so slowly he could practically hear the tick-tocks.
His body would’ve been happy for a rest. It was just a shame his brain wasn’t willing to get with the program. The sun was coming up, he could see it coming in through the curtains, which meant he’d slept a few hours at least. Stretch was curled up again in his armchair, this time with legs drawn up to his chest and his feet tucked into the cushion. It made Jeff wince to look at, that looked like a cramp waiting to happen. Maybe skeletons didn’t get cramps? He didn’t know much, but he knew his friends normally slept in a bed, so it was a good guess that Stretch would be waking with some regrets. The television was on with the volume down, the subtitles narrating along. They even had a smart tv, but Jeff didn’t think he’d ever wanted to catch up on his Netflix less. It was still very early. Jeff texted his roommates and Thomas, anyway, before they caught the whole debacle as it was brewing on the news. That was pretty much the end of his contact list. Every other friend he had was either sitting here or already knew where he was. So that left him with Netflix, his phone, and his unsettled thoughts that kept wandering back to what had happened outside the Golden City, to the sight of his own soul, hovering above Stretch’s hand. To everything. To the ache of absence in his gut reminding him that Antwan wasn’t here, and he shouldn’t feel that way, he shouldn’t. He was the one hurt, yeah, but one look at the news had him cringing. A hate crime against a Monster ally, one that involved Stretch who’d already been in the news a few times himself recently. Jeff only read a couple headlines before he didn’t want to see anymore. Antwan and Edge, hell, the whole Embassy was probably working feverishly to get this under control, and there was a lot at stake. But he couldn’t help that small, selfish part of him that wanted Antwan here with him. Stupid, it was stupid and selfish, and— A light knock at that door interrupted the downward spiral of his thoughts. He looked over, expecting to see a nurse and instead Edge walked in. He was in one of his power executive suits, but for the first time in Jeff’s memory, he honestly looked exhausted. There were shadows under his sockets and the crimson magic that glowed in his eye lights and joints seemed dim.
Jeff gave him a little wave and was both startled and amused when Edge raised a curt hand back. There were a couple plastic bags in his other hand and Edge set it down as he glanced over to where Stretch was sleeping. His expression, his entire posture, softened when he saw him; there was no other word for it. He walked on silent feet over to him and Jeff tried not to stare goopily as Edge straightened the blanket, smoothing it gently over him. At least he could enjoy someone else’s affection vicariously.
Stretch made a sleepy sound, nestling deeper into the folds like a particularly tall and lanky puppy and Jeff expected Edge to pull a chair up next to him, the better to keep hands on. Sure, he was the one who got hurt, but Edge was a smart guy. There was no way he hadn’t connected the dots like Jeff had, no chance at all that he hadn’t realized if Stretch hadn’t fallen back a pace, he would’ve been first in line to meet those fuckers, and that didn’t even include what Jeff had seen online about the police. There was a story he needed more information on and soon. But to his surprise, Edge took a seat on the other side of the bed before he asked in a low voice, “How are you feeling?” “Sore,” Jeff said honestly. “But it’s not that bad.” It was true; he’d really expected to be in a lot more pain. But the stitches itched more than they hurt and it seemed almost absurdly easy to forget why he was here to begin with. Edge nodded, unsurprised. “A residual effect of the healing. I’ll warn you now, it will wear off, so when the nurses offer you pain medication, accept it.” “Yeah, okay, I will.” This felt weird, even a little awkward, knowing what he knew about healing; namely that Stretch really hadn’t been supposed to do it. His memory of it all was blurry and dim, and he wasn’t trying very hard to pull any of it back into focus, but he did recall Edge telling Stretch to hurry. So he knew, too, and he hadn’t told Stretch to stop. “I brought you a gift,” Edge said abruptly. Jeff had to bite back a smile, because that was such an…an…Edge thing. Directly to the point, bypassing the unnecessary smalltalk. Whenever they were all together, he made for a great foil for Stretch, a perfect straight man, but on his own, Edge kept firmly on track. From one of the bags, Edge pulled out a tastefully wrapped package and handed it to him. It was about the size of a hardcover book and Jeff opened it curiously, wondering at what kind of reading material Edge would find suitable for hospital bed reading. Except it wasn’t a book. Jeff stared down at the box with uncertain dismay. The word Ipad stared back, and not even the cheapest model. “Edge,” Jeff started weakly, trying to come up with something, but what could he say? Thanks but no thanks for this astonishingly thoughtful and too damn expensive present? “An iPad is not a gift.” “Of course it is. I gave it to you,” Edge told him. The arrogance in it was probably so ingrained in him that Edge didn’t even hear it. Well, that was a tone that brooked no argument, but Jeff was going to give brooking a shot anyway. “I have a laptop.” Something about his obvious distaste made Jeff think Edge knew a little too damn much about his aging Dell. “Yes…and now you have an iPad.” Well, fuck. His first mistake had been taking it because there was no way in hell Edge would take it back now. Especially not with the smug way he was sitting there, and that was the expression of someone who knew they’d won. “Damn it, Edge—“ “Here, let me help you,” Edge interrupted. He stood, reaching out to take the lid from the box. A quick press of a button and it started up, already connected to his Apple ID and there was another question that Jeff probably wasn’t going to get answered. "Now, I'd like you to open this document right here." How a gloved finger that covered bone was able to use a touchscreen was a mystery past Jeff’s skills, but it did. The document opened to a bunch of legalize, enough to make that aching twinge for Antwan flare. It dimmed back as astonishment overshadowed it, Jeff staring at the page. "This is an employment contract." "Excellent, you can read, we can skip that part of the interview." Edge tucked his hands into his pockets and said crisply, "I've been trying to be subtle, but it's become apparent to me that the direct approach would be best. I’d like you to come work for us at the Embassy.” “What would I even do?” Jeff asked, a little helplessly. The contract listed a lot of benefits but there was no sign of job duties or even a title. Edge sighed with pointed exasperation, and his eye lights were sharp, assessing. “Jeff, you have a degree in sociology and a compassionate soul. Do you see how that might be useful working for people who spent most of their lives trapped underground? We are not a perfect people, but we are loyal, and we want you with us.” “How do you know I have a compassionate soul,” Jeff blurted. The memory of his soul, that soft green, compassion, was still very fresh. “Did Stretch tell you?” “Of course you do, it’s obvious—wait,” Edge narrowed his sockets, eye lights flaring. “Did Stretch look at your soul?” “Uhhh.” Well, fuck, that was a smooth move. Stretch had said it was kind of a big deal, maybe it was like, like cheating or something, but it hadn’t been like that, not at all. Meekly, Jeff offered, “I mean, I asked him to?” Edge waved him off. “Never mind that, but he shouldn’t have done it while you’re so weak. What I’m trying to get at is you would be a useful member of the team and—“ He trailed off as Jeff signed it without another word. He hit send, watched as the icon swirled and popped up with a cheery, ‘sent!’. Prickles were stinging in his eyes but Jeff looked up at Edge anyway and told him firmly, “I don’t want a pity job. I want to help.” “You’ll get plenty of work, I assure you.” Edge seemed off-balance, oddly stiff and abrupt, and Jeff realized he expected to have to argue more with him. But working at the Embassy, with all the Monsters he’d met over the past year? It sounded like a dream that he didn’t want to wake from, a chance to pay back kindness that he’d never been able to with Julia.
He wanted this, so much. “Thank you,” Jeff told him, quietly. Edge relaxed visibly at that. “As an employee of the Embassy, you’re entitled to housing in New New Home. Here-“ he leaned in, reaching for the Ipad and Jeff couldn’t stop himself. He wrapped both arms around Edge’s slim form and hugged him. He regretted it instantly. Edge stiffened immediately, standing stock-still in his arms. Fuck, Edge didn’t like being touched unexpectedly by anyone but Stretch, he knew that, he knew it. Before he could pull back or apologize, an awkward hand patted him gently on the back. “You’re welcome.” “are you two done?” Came sleepily from the other side of the bed. “because if you need more bonding time or a chance to sing kumbaya or something, i can go.” Edge drew back and retorted, “If you’re going somewhere else, you may want to take advantage of the clothes I bought you.” The blanket was cast aside as Stretch scrambled to his feet, already reaching for the bags. “babe, in a world of mediocrity, you are a shining star.” “Only because you are easily pleased.” The bag was quickly tossed aside as Stretch pulled out the clothes and laid them on the foot of the bed, making pleased sounds about the sweatshirt and pants, and Jeff didn’t miss that a few of those things were way too short for Stretch. Edge had obviously brought him clothes, too, and Jeff swallowed hard before managing, “You could’ve gone home to change and get some better sleep.” “uh huh,” Stretch agreed absently, chuckling delightedly as he held up a T-shirt with ‘She-Ra, Princess of Power’ emblazoned on it. “excellent. or i can stay here and use the ensuite shower.” “Are you planning on camping here until they cut me loose?” And Jeff was blinking hard because he already knew the answer. “yep.” “Of course.” One more question, the one he’d resisted asking because he wasn’t needy, he understood, he did, but, “Where is Antwan?” That softening fell over Edge again, but Jeff had never seen it directed his way before. “Finishing his work at the Embassy. He’s going as quickly as he can, but there’s really no one who knows it better than him. He was here when they brought you in and waited until he knew you were safe.” Jeff nodded, swallowing hard. “He asked me to stay with you, but to be honest, that was my plan to begin with,” Edge told him with a gentleness Jeff had heard before, months ago when they’d spoken about his parents. “He’ll be here as soon as he can.” “sure he will!” Stretch gathered up an armload of clothes and headed towards the bathroom. “keep an eye on the injured party here, i can’t even stand my own smell right now and that’s saying something.” “Where would I go?” “I will,” Edge said firmly. The door closed behind Stretch and Edge settled back into his chair, pulling out his phone. He was quickly absorbed, probably working, but his eye lights slid Jeff’s way anytime he moved, trying to get comfortable with the slowly growing ache in his side.
The television wasn’t offering any new enticement and he since he couldn’t rightly turn away his new gift, at least he could play with it. Jeff went to the App Store, scowling when he saw the sum loaded to his account and silently promised that he would be paying them all back very soon, for everything. His excitement over a new job was dampened a little by Antwan’s absence, but it was okay. Everything would be fine. He downloaded a game, losing himself in the mindless shifting of gemstones and triumphant lights.
And waited.
~~*~~
Read Chapter Three
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gimmesumsuga · 6 years
Text
Sweeter than Sweet (42)
Pairings: Jimin x reader, Yoongi x reader, Namjoon x reader, Taehyung x reader + others as the story progresses
Warnings: Dirty talk, sex toys, anal play, oral (male receiving), unprotected sex, multiple orgasms.  
Word count: 4.0K
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Moodboard by @yminie
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Taehyung is remarkably quick to respond to your request, stepping away from you just enough to pull his t-shirt off and throw it elsewhere as you hungrily watch on.  He’s just as lean as you were expecting him to be, somewhere in between Jimin and Yoongi in terms of frame but lacking the same kind of muscle that’s bestowed on the former.  His skin is flawless, though, more akin to milky coffee than cream, and you find yourself irresistibly drawn to touch him, the palms of your hands placed flat on his chest as you regard him with something halfway between lust and wonder.  
“Can I take this off?” Taehyung asks quietly, effectively pulling you out of your state of distraction by giving a tug to the front of your sweater.  
“Seeing as you asked so nicely,” you smile, surprising yourself with how cocky you sound.  It's like Jimin’s words are coming out of your mouth without you even meaning them to.
You see Tae lick his lips right before his face disappears, your sweater momentarily obscuring your vision as it’s tugged over your head, and you’re shivering excitedly by the time it hits the floor at your feet.  You're braless underneath, and when your nipples meet the cold air they instantly become instantly erect, Taehyung’s intense stare only serving to harden them further.  
His fingers twitch at his sides.
“You want to touch them Tae?”  His mouth slightly parted, he nods just once.  “Finish getting undressed for me, first.”  
Where the hell is this coming from?  You've never acted like this before - you've not even ever thought about acting like this before - but watching the way Taehyung starts to scramble to remove his pants and the way he bites his lip when you greedily palm your breast… yeah, this is definitely something you could learn to enjoy.  
He steps out of his pants, and now it's you that's biting your lip as your eyes come to rest on the generous package enclosed inside his tight grey boxers.  There’s the biggest patch of pre-cum you've ever seen collecting at where the head must lie, and when Taehyung brushes his palm against his length, exhaling hard, you swear it gets even bigger.
“Those too,” you add huskily, your voice hitching as you pinch your nipple between your thumb and forefinger, knowing just the pressure with which to do it to send pleasure jolting straight between your legs.
He hooks his thumbs into his waistband at your instruction and then drags them down, kicking them off to the side, and when he straightens up and you catch full sight of him you audibly groan, squeezing your breast reflexively as you take him in.  
Taehyung’s completely hairless, and this, along with the device that he's got wrapped around the base of his cock, makes him look gloriously well-endowed.  
“Is that one of your toys?” you ask breathlessly, your eyes stuck on the throbbing, veiny length of him even as he walks back towards you.  He immediately takes your breasts in both hands - knocking yours aside - rolling the soft flesh in his palms as he starts to kiss your neck hungrily.  
“It's a cock-ring, jagi, ” he informs you between kisses, “It’ll make me feel so good for you...”  Oh, you don't doubt it.  
“D-does it feel good for you too?” Your now unoccupied hand seems to develop a life of its own as you reach between your bodies, running a fingertip from the edge of the ring all the way the way to the tip of his cock, pre-cum oozing out onto your finger when you get there.  Taehyung practically mewls as you do this, his thumbs roughly stimulating your nipples to bring you to the point of panting too.  
“Yes…” You wrap your hand around the length of him, slowly starting to pump him up and down and smiling to yourself when he shudders at your touch. “So good…”
The kisses you share when you find his mouth again are rougher and needier than they were just minutes ago - your tongue delving eagerly into his mouth and swallowing up every moan he makes - and in one minute more one of Taehyung’s hands abandons your breast to delve downward, slipping under the waistband of your pyjama bottoms uninvited and immediately finding its way to your core.  
There's no teasing about it this time; Tae’s fingers sink directly into your wet heat and skewer you on them so roughly that you momentarily short-circuits, crying out and throwing an arm around his shoulder to cling onto him for support.  Your busy hands start to work in time with one another's, your forehead pressed to his chest that's starting to perspire as you pant against it.  
“You're so wet, so fucking wet,” Taehyung groans in those low, dulcet tones of his, and the noises coming from underneath your pyjama bottoms only serve to agree with him as he strokes at your insides.  
“More,” you moan greedily, tugging at his cock in time with his fingers, and honestly you'd think you were being a bit too rough if it weren't for the groans of pleasure that accompany his every exhale. “More Tae, give me more.” He yanks your pyjama buttons down with his free hand, allowing you to open yourself up to accommodate a third finger and a thumb against your clit, and like this Taehyung manages to bring you to your high within seconds, your cries muffling into his chest and your legs threatening to give out from underneath you whilst you’re so awash with pleasure.  
After all too fleeting moment of ecstasy is come and gone, Taehyung walks you over to his bed and sits you on the end of it, bending to kiss you just that little bit softer than before whilst his hands cradle your face.  When you start to stroke his cock again he stands straight, his chest rising and falling heavily as you pay particular attention to the head, smoothing back his foreskin and smearing a generous helping of pre-cum around the sensitive skin underneath.  
He stands there like that, head tilted back, lips parted, gratefully receiving the pleasure you so eagerly give, and you're trying so hard to burn this image of him into your memory that you can't tear your eyes off of him, not for a second - not even when you hear voices out in the hallway.  The others must be heading to bed now, too, though you pay them very little thought, far too wrapped up in trying to make Taehyung fall apart.  
“Do you want-” He has to pause for a second, his teeth dragging along his bottom lip as you squeeze his length.  “-Do you want to see my other toys?” You nod enthusiastically, releasing him from your grip even though you’re reluctant to do so.  Leaning back on your elbows you watch with a tilted head as Tae walks to his closet, sliding open the doors and then squatting to rummage inside.  He has the kind of skinny boy butt that you just want to sink your teeth into, so petite and pert, and it takes an awful lot of willpower not to follow him over there to do just that.  
Soon enough, Taehyung emerges from his closet with a black box in hand and an equally boxy grin on his face.  It’s inconspicuous enough really - just a plastic box with clip fasteners that would never arose any suspicion on first glance - but when he brings it over and opens it up, sat on the bed with the box between you, you have to try not to gawp.  
There’s all manner of goodies inside, some of which you recognise, some which you most definitely don’t, and suddenly all those nerves are coming back again, making you swallow hard as your eyes drift over a rather large anal plug.  
You look up with flushed cheeks to find Tae watching you closely with those gorgeous brown eyes of his, evidently trying to gauge your reaction. Knowing that he’s waiting for you to say something you glance down into the box again, wetting your lips that have suddenly gone very dry.  
“Tae… I’ve never tried anything like this before…” you confess slowly, hoping that he won’t be too disappointed by your lack of experience.  Hell, before a few weeks ago you’d never had any experience with sex at all, let alone with whatever that strange egg-shaped thing is.  Surprisingly Tae just smiles, letting his head flop to the side as he regards you.  
“I don’t want to use them on you, ” he tells you, reaching across the space between you to cup your breast again, gently toying with your nipple as a confused frown graces your face.  Why did he get them out then, if it wasn’t with the purpose of using them?  “I want you to use them on me.”
Oh.
Your mouth pops open, breath hitching and hips bucking when Tae pinches your nipple harshly.  Well that… you don’t know how you feel about that.  It’s particularly hard to form any coherent thought when he continues fondling you with those eager hands of his.  
“Would you like that, jagiya?  Want to play with me?”  You look back into the box, your eyes roving over all the different shapes and sizes and materials, and out of the corner of your eye you can see Taehyung starting to touch himself lightly.  He hasn’t started soften during any of this, his cock still straining hard and upright, and you think that must be partly thanks to the cock-ring still sat so snugly at its base.  
Your hand is just reaching out to touch something that looks a little bit like a pair of small metal clips when Tae lets slip a deep moan, the sound of which hits you right between your legs, and suddenly, you’re very, very certain that yes, you really do want to take part in his little games - especially if it means you can get him making more delicious noises like that.  
“Tae… what’re these for?” you ask softly, lifting them out of the box.  He opens his eyes - he’d let his head fall backwards with the slow, soft strokes he was bestowing on himself - and flashes you a smile when he sees what you’re holding.  
“Nipple clamps.”  You eye them suspiciously as you turn them over in your hands.  To you they just look like they should hurt, what with the toothy grips on the end… but then maybe that’s the point?  
“You want… do you want me to put these on for you?” you ask, hesitant.
“It doesn’t matter what I want,” he states matter-of-factly, his expression far too open and naive to match the things his hands are doing and the toys he likes to play with.  
Your eyes drift from his face to his nipples; they’re already hard, tiny buds that are an even darker shade of brown than his skin.  You can’t help but wonder if they’d become red and swollen like his lips are under the teeth of the clamps… whether he’d whine when you put them on.  God, Yoongi would hate these…
“Jagi, please.”  Taehyung’s tone is suddenly a little desperate, his cock twitching in his hand as he looks at you from under his thick eyelashes.  “Whatever you want, I’ll do whatever you ask.  Use me.”
Hearing his breathy, needy pleas seems to flick some sort of switch inside of you - one that you never even knew was there - and before you’ve even thought about what you’re doing you’ve shoved his box of toys from between you and you’re climbing onto his lap, nipple clamps in hand.  
You grab his wrist, pulling his hand off of his cock as you lean your weight against his chest to force him down onto the mattress.  Taehyung’s hands end up above his head in a seemingly automatic gesture, one that has a thrill of pleasure running through you when you see it, smirking as you lower your mouth to his chest and start to litter him with wet, careless kisses.  
It doesn’t take long for you to find your way to one of his nipples, and you’re not cautious with your tongue or your teeth as you start to flick and bite at it, already knowing that Tae will inevitably enjoy whatever pain you dish out.  Indeed, his hips are starting to move restlessly beneath you, low groans of pleasure spilling out of him each time you bite just that little bit harder.  
Sitting up, you attach the first clamp to his spit-shined nipple, and the look of agony that crosses Taehyung’s face when you do makes your pussy clench around nothing, arousal starting to drip from you onto his thighs.  
“You want the other one?” you ask breathily, and when he nods you immediately repeat the process with just as pleasant results.  You take a minute just to pause and admire your work once the second one is attached, smiling to yourself at just how wrecked the boy beneath you looks.  
His breaths are shuddering, his head lolled to the side with his blonde hair in disarray, lips bitten to pieces and his eyes shut tight, cock leaking on his stomach.  The urge to sink yourself down onto him and satisfy the fierce ache between your legs is almost overwhelming, but your force yourself to hold back; you’re having too much fun to stop now.  You want to see how far you can push before he’s begging for release, certain that you can have him moaning and groaning your name before you’ve even felt him inside.
“Which is your favourite, Tae?” you ask softly, leaning down to kiss him and chuckling at the way his hips push upward to nudge his cock against your stomach, chasing any friction he can find.  You let your body sink down onto his, permitting him to thrust against the soft warmth of your skin for a while before cruelly taking it away again, tutting at his lack of response despite enjoying the sounds he’d started to make in the absence of real speech.  “Talk to me baby, or I won’t want to play anymore.”
That’s a lie and you know it is, but oh, if only your daddy could see you now.  You’ve learnt so much from his example; you’re sure he’d be proud.  
“Th-the beads,” he stammers, his eyes wider than usual, mouth remaining open with the ragged breaths he’s taking.  He looks so pretty like this that you find yourself running a hand through his hair soothingly, pushing it back from his face in a gesture he seems to find comforting. “The metal ones.”
You pull the box closer to you again, rummaging around in amongst all manner of items until you find the ones you think he means, lifting them out to dangle above his face.  
“These?” His pink tongue prods at the corner of his mouth, gaze flicking from the toy to your face before he nods.  They’re heavier than you expected them to be; a long line of metal beads that slowly increase in size as they move along the chain, smooth and cold to the touch.  You’re not an idiot - you know what these are designed for - but as for actually getting started with them… you’re at a little bit of a loss.  
Thankfully your new position of power allows you some flexibility; instead of having to admit that you don’t know what you’re doing you simply lean down to whisper in Taehyung’s ear.
“Get yourself ready, baby.”  You nibble gently at his earlobe, pleased by the wanton groan that your words pull from his lungs.  “I want to watch.”  With a great amount of willpower you climb off of his lap, remaining to kneel at the foot of the bed whilst Taehyung eagerly shimmies his way backward, leaning over to his bedside table to retrieve what turns out to be a bottle of lubricant that he squeezes liberally over the fingers of his left hand.  
You’re transfixed, watching with a bounding pulse as that hand comes downward to nestle between Taehyung’s legs.  He spreads them wider, his head falling back amongst the pillows as he strokes his perineum up and down, up and down, and then further down still, till his slippery fingers are pushing against his asshole and you’re reaching down to touch yourself too, the room full of the sounds of heavy breaths that belong to the both of you.
He picks his feet up off the bed, giving you an all the more graphic view of the things he’s doing to himself, and you wait until he sinks one of his fingertips past that puckered ring of muscle before sliding a finger inside yourself too.  
Both of you are moaning simultaneously, fingering yourselves in union, and god, Taehyung’s sheets are going to be ruined by the time you’re done; your juices running down your thighs as you watch him stretch himself open, adding a second finger and whimpering into the pillow as he does.  
You can’t stand it any longer.  You need to touch him again - need to find some relief of your own.  Crawling up the bed, you call his name and Taehyung lets his legs drop, craning his neck forward to look down at where you’re sat between his feet.  He curses loudly when he sees what you’re doing with the anal beads, easing them in and out of your pussy to warm and lubricate them, and when you smirk back at him, allowing yourself a salacious moan, his head flops right back down into the pillow, his hips flexing up off of the mattress.  
“You want these, Tae?” you ask, withdrawing them from yourself to press the blunt curve of the smallest ball against his perineum.  
“Please,” he groans, his body tipping from side to side like he’s trying to wriggle after it when you drag the metal across his hole.  Gingerly you apply a little pressure, testing the resistance and biting your lip when Taehyung hisses.  “Please, put it in, jagi, please.”  
Hushing him, you spare a modicum of pity and start to palm his cock again, stroking the length of him as you gradually ease the first bead inside, and then the second, and then the third, and with each ball that slips inside Taehyung whimpers and cries, twitching in your hand.  By the time the toy is fully inserted he’s practically tearing at his own hair, the heels of his hands pressed into his eyes, legs shaking on either side of you.  
“Everything ok?” you check quietly, placing a gentle kiss on his knee and ceasing all motion for a moment, concerned that it’s all becoming a little too much.  
“Mm-m ok,” he answers after a brief pause, barely able to speak he’s so breathless and keeping his eyes covered.  “Feels so g-good.”  Again his cock twitches, the whole length of it throbbing and starting to look painfully swollen, the head an angry red from where it’s emerging above your fist.  
Sufficiently reassured you begin again, withdrawing the beads almost entirely before thrusting them back inside, and every time you do it’s almost like you can feel it yourself, your pussy aching so badly that you could cry.  Taehyung looks like he’s beginning to fair no better, either; his lips nearly bleeding from how badly he’s been biting them, his cries becoming more and more desperate each time he’s breached.  
There’s no pre-cum left to seep from him anymore, but what remains you lean over and begin to lick from him, moaning as you suckle soothingly on the head of his cock, and it’s at this point Taehyung breaks.
“I can’t - I can’t take anymore,” he tells you, his voice hoarse, eyes filling with tears as he removes his hands only to have you take them both, threading your fingers through his.  “I need to cum, please, please let me cum.  It hurts, jagi.”  
“Ok, ok,” you soothe, climbing across him to sit astride his hips, smothering his continuing pleas with the softest, gentlest of kisses until you feel him start to calm, his grip on your hands starting to loosen, his muscles starting to go lax underneath you.  “It’s ok.”  You smile tenderly at him, releasing his hands to first stroke his face and then remove the ring that’d brought him so much pleasure and pain.  He sighs in relief as it comes off and once again you kiss him, suddenly full of affection, wanting to touch him all over but no longer tease.
“You’ve been such a good boy, Taehyung,” you praise, smiling when you hear him hum happily into your next kiss.  You reach down between your bodies, only now realising how badly your hands are shaking as you line up the tip of his cock with your entrance.
“Please,” he whispers, and that’s enough for you to finally give in, allowing yourself what you both so desperately want by sinking onto him in one exquisite motion.  The feel of him stretching you open, the way your walls clench around him, just finally feeling full; it’s enough to have you falling forward to bury your head in the crook of his neck, stammering a string of nonsensical curses.  You can’t wait to allow yourself time to stretch, to accomodate; you’re too desperate for that, and so is he.
“Taehyung,” you gasp, rocking your hips back and forth, your fingers threaded in his hair, “Tae, make me cum, fuck me, please.”  You’re past the point of no return, no longer able to remain the dominant one, to be the one in control - you need him to take over, to wreck and ravage you until you can’t take a minute more and luckily, Taehyung obliges.  His hands settle on your hips, grabbing at you as he starts to slam up into you from underneath, and god, it feels so good that you know you won’t last long, not after how long you’ve waited for this moment.  
“So good, so good,” you hear him groaning between pants, his face turning to press against your hair, “Feels so good, fuck.”  
Writhing on top of him, chasing your orgasm on his cock as it pounds against your g-spot, you start to suck on his neck, leaving dark, purple bruises to show where you’ve been.  It’s the only way to stop yourself from screaming, and honestly, you love the way he’s moaning in agony, only fucking you harder in response to the added pain.  
“Tae, Tae-ah, ah, I’m gonna cum, shit, I’m gonna-”  That’s all you can manage before it suddenly rips through you, the strength of it almost knocking you out as pleasure floods through your body, crying out and grabbing onto whichever part of him you can reach first.  He’s right behind you, too, moaning your name, begging you for something.
“Pull it out, when I- ah- please!”  Through the haze you realise what he wants you to do just in time to do it, mindlessly sitting yourself up and reaching behind where you’re joined to grasp the end of the anal beads.  All the while his cock is still hammering into you and your engorged clit is brushing on his pubic bone, and as you yank the beads out you feel it growing again, your nerve endings screaming with ecstasy.
“God!” you shout, another orgasm roaring through you even stronger than the last as Taehyung finds his release too, spilling his load into you pulse after pulse as you contract around him, both of you moaning helplessly as you hold onto each other lest you fall apart.  
There's one all-consuming thought that runs through your jumbled mind as you and Tae catch your breath, enjoying a quiet, post-coital embrace in which he's pressing soft, affectionate kisses against your neck.
If this is what all play dates with Taehyung are like, you're definitely going have to schedule another one.  
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