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no-droids · 4 years

Text

Mercy, Sabotage, and Dead Space

(gif credit to @redwyyne-archive)

Part One of The Bet series

Pairing: Poe Dameron/Reader

Rating: Explicit

Word Count: 12.7K

Summary:

1. No sex.

2. No touching yourself.

3. No orgasms.

Warnings/Tags: DUBCON/NONCON elements, fuckboy Poe (OOC), Enemies to Lovers, degradation/humiliation, mentions of oral sex, SMUUUTTTTTTTT also I’m not sorry for what I did but you’re not allowed to read if you’re gonna get mad at me okay byeeee

***

This.

This shit, right here.

If the question was ever, “What’s the stupidest fucking thing you’ve ever let Poe Dameron somehow talk you into doing?” then the answer is this stupid shit, right the fuck here. This is like. You remember that one game, Mercy? The one where you’d dig your nails in and twist arms and just needlessly inflict pain on each other as children until one of you cried uncle because someone somewhere once decided to turn torture into a matter of pride?

You always thought those games were fucking ridiculous. Who can hold their breath the longest, who can handle a lit deathstick against their flesh the longest, who can take the hardest punch—who cares? It’s child’s play. It’s self-inflicted agony for the sake of bragging rights and even as a youngling, you refused to fall for it.

But then you met… fucking Dameron.

You know those people that… they don’t just rub you the wrong way, but literally every single aspect about their personality is sandpaper against wet skin and your whole entire being feels chafed raw just by existing in their general vicinity for an extended period of time?

You’re… you’re not usually a competitive—much less aggressive person. You never have been. It’s just not part of your nature. If you ever excel at anything in life, it isn’t because of some secret, deep-seated desire to win or be better than anyone else. You just… do you. You do whatever you do, and if it’s good, it’s good. And if it’s bad, it’s good. Because at the end of the day at least it’s still you, and you’re okay with that.

But this?

This shit? Right here?

“This is fucking dumb,” you say, because you know it’s what you both must be thinking so you may as well just get it out in the open. “This is the dumbest fucking thing, Dameron. What are we doing? Why are we doing this?”

The grumpy, orange-jumpsuited figure sitting behind you just sighs heavily and slumps even further down in his bucket seat, as if it isn’t the first time you’ve tried asking this incredibly valid question (it totally is), bringing a palm down to thunk the top of the guidance controls between his legs in a quiet irritation you’re almost certain has everything to do with the very topic you’re trying to bring up.

“Because,” comes that infuriating drawl. You can only see his face from this angle by looking at his reflection in the transparisteel barrier directly in front of you, but even just imagining the way his mouth moves while he rounds out the words makes your jaw clench. “The coordinates we picked up were scrambled and this rendezvous could be going down at any one of thirty-six locat—?”

“No,” you interrupt him with a scowl, “not why I’ve been floating in dead space in this Maker-forsaken ship with you for eight fucking hours a day since… fuck, what’s today? Thursday? Friday? Nope, can’t be Friday, Friday’s our off-day. Thursday, then. …Thursday?” You shake your head. “Ugh, see? Time doesn’t exist when I’m not allowed to cum, life is like one never-ending nightmare.”

“Oh.” He takes a second to think about it in silence, the calloused tips of his fingers scratching the side of his face while he considers. It wouldn’t usually be as loud as it is right now. Maybe it’s the haunting quiet of space surrounding the ancient powered down hunk of metal you’re both stuck in, inadvertently isolating and amplifying the sound—or maybe it’s because your copilot’s jaw is currently covered in a thick, dark beard that you swear barely took his testosterone-overloaded ass a fucking week or two to grow, if that. Regardless, the dark bristles crunch loudly under his short fingernails and it takes you about a grand total of five whole uninterrupted seconds of the scraping sound to realize you’re grinding your teeth along with it. “Well,” he finally says, “that was your stupid idea.”

“Hmmmmmmmno,” you contest firmly, wiggling your elbow back to poke at his shin with your index finger once, twice, thrice, until he finally slaps your hand away in quiet irritation. To the misfortune of you both—and likely the other hundred or so pilots concurrently taking rotating shifts in these tandem x-wings in a glorified mass stakeout, the cockpit of this ship is just way too fucking small. Your arm is squeezed uncomfortably against machinery and electronics to get to him from this angle and a light slap isn’t going to stop you now that you’re here. “You—” (poke) “—have a superiority complex and decided to turn it into a competition, not—” (poke) “—me.”

“Oh, I have a superiority complex, okay,” he scowls and nods in vehement, fake agreement, finally giving up and letting you poke at will, but the appeal is lost as soon as you realize he’s over it and your arm eases back into your lap. You watch his reflection look out of the viewport and scan the empty void of space for the twentieth time in the past five minutes, clearly just as desperate to get back to base as you are. “So what is it you call saying—wait, no no, not even saying, loudly declaring—‘Of course I can go longer without sex than “wham bam thank you ma’am” Dameron, you brainless fucks, it’s a simple fact!’”

“Alright—I don’t sound like that, fuck you very much,” you return, in reference to his shrieking, high-pitched impression of you surrounded by your fellow pilots in the rec room when you’ve had a bit too much to drink. “Also, you don’t have to finger-quote literally every single syllable of my fucking sentence, Dameron. First and last word, that’s all it takes. And if it’s so superiority complex-ey of me to state simple facts, then what is it you call saying ‘betcha two weeks worth of pay you can’t, pretty baby’?”

“Uh, easy credits?” He immediately asks, side-eyeing your reflection through the transparisteel. “ Easy credits. Just begging for it. Two weeks of your slutty, sexy, easy fucking credits just begging to be taken and used— ”

“You need to get laid,” you cut in to tell him bluntly, scrunching your nose in what you hope looks like disgust. As per protocol, the power to the x-wing was cut at the beginning of your shift—what feels like a fucking eternity ago—as a preventative maneuver in case the target falls out of hyperspace unexpectedly. Avoiding the scanners of a fleet that may never actually show means it’s cold and dimly lit in here—just starlight in front of either you, but you’re hoping he can gauge the severity of your revulsion with your back to him. “You just turned my money into a sex object. It was vile. I feel violated on its behalf.”

“Sounds like you’re the one who needs to get laid,” he tosses carelessly back at you, and you roll your eyes with as much sass as you can physically muster, so tired of all the dodging. You know this hasn’t been easy for him either, he just has too much pride to admit it. “Besides, you’ve gotta be past the withdrawal stage by now. Is it really all that bad?”

“The fuck you mean, ‘Is it really all that bad’?” You snap at him, shuffling around grumpily in your seat, hating the way the bulky weapons controls sit right between your thighs and prevent you from closing them. Withdrawal stage, ha. “Of course it’s all that bad. It’s horrible. It’s the fucking worst. And more importantly, how are you not having any trouble with this? Oh, wait—that’s right,” you answer yourself before he has a chance to. “Because you cheated.”

“I did not cheat,” Dameron’s reflection immediately challenges with an accusatory finger pointed at you. “I did not. When the fuck did I cheat? I swapped housing assignments with your shitty roommate and slept in the bunk below yours for a month and a half—all because you don’t believe in the honor system—just so you could tell me I fucking cheated?”

You scoff, feeling your annoyance spark even more. He’s always been able to get under your skin, but the neglect you’ve been forcing your body to endure is just throwing gasoline on an already roaring fire. “Okay, first of all? Rude. I am a fucking joy to have as a roomie, alright? I put up with your snoring, your 2:00 AM dinners, you blasting your radio while I’m trying to sleep, I barely complain about your body odor—”

“My snoring is adorable, I get snacky at night, only sad people with fucked up lives hate music, I smell amazing,” Dameron casually lists off on his fingers, the self-confidence so easy and unshakeable that you swear he’s almost preening at the compliments he just gave himself by the time he’s finished rebutting everything you can think to throw at him. And, while you’d never admit it, he does smell good. He smells… unbelievably fucking good. Always. Something dark and woodsy, you can never quite put your finger on. It pisses you off, so much that you’ve made a habit of pulling a face of disgust whenever the warm, rich scent noticeably reaches you, hoping it deflates his ego just a little bit. No such luck so far.

“Whatever. The point is I’m a good fucking neighbor, alright, I’m neighborly as fuck,” you grumble, crossing your arms over your chest defensively. “And don’t make it sound like I’m putting a chastity lock on your balls every night, because you can fuck anyone you want. In fact, I strongly fucking encourage it—I just want to know about it when it happens.”

Dameron smirks and you groan, already knowing what’s coming. “You wanna hear it?”

Yep, there it is. “Second of all—”

“Feel the whole bunk rock with it?” He goes on, completely ignoring you. “Use the excuse that you’re trapped up top so you can just stay there the whole time and listen? You know you can do a lot more than just—”

“Second of all,” you project over him, “you’re seriously telling me you haven’t had any wet dreams then, hm? No snorgasms? Hmmm? No happy naps? No captain midnights? No mattress fracking? Hmmmmmm???”

His voice very quickly sounds… shocked. “How many fucking euphemisms—?”

“Wait wait, one more—” you quickly interrupt, too much momentum to stop now, “—sleepskeet.”

You watch in immense satisfaction as his expression seems to progress through all five stages of grief, before he exhales a long, unamused sigh and scratches his beard again. You want to pluck each strand of it out of his face one by one. “Anyways. Wet dreams are totally different and don’t count.”

“It’s not different!” You burst out, unable to help yourself, “it’s an orgasm, and rule number three is no orgas—”

“I know what the rules were, Gold-Ten,” he returns calmly, and it infuriates you, how he’s always able to make it seem like you’re the instigator who’s overreacting. And he knows exactly what he’s doing by calling you by your flight designation, and it pisses you off even more because calling him Black-Leader in any other situation besides active warfare just feels like an unnecessary reminder of his skills. Why he’s currently behind you manning the guidance controls and why you’re currently stuck in the front seat with the bulkier weapons systems. “The question is if you’re seriously that bad enough of a sport to automatically disqualify me because of something that happens to any human with a dick indiscriminately when we blueball ourselves.”

“But that’s the entire fucking point, Dameron!” You shrill, throwing your hands in the air in pure exasperation. “There it is! You need it more than I do, you just said it yourself! Not to mention I said I can go longer without sex than you can— sex , not orgasms, but as it turns out I win at both. Now can we please call this shit off so I can finally cum? This isn’t fun anymore.”

“Nope,” he says immediately, popping the P with a bit too much hard emphasis to be genuinely amused. He’s frustrated, too—his voice is too pleased, too fake to not be masking irritation underneath. “Sorry. But this was also your stupid idea, so.”

“You’re insufferable,” you grumble, anger flaring equal to his, just way more… verbal. And descriptive. “Wet dreams don’t count, fucking right. Tell that to the oceans of Kamino I got going on down there, huh? I move on this seat wrong and I’ll slide off it—”

A loud slam of a palm against the controls suddenly echoes throughout the small cockpit, causing you to jump slightly.

“Don’t,” Dameron snarls, “... say shit like that to me. Not right now. Not right now, fuck .”

You go quiet for a moment, not expecting that much of an outburst at something you considered to be a throwaway remark, but then… oh. Something occurs to you, something… sinister. Oh, well, now there’s an idea.

Everything inside you immediately surges up and burns at the thought—the mere whisper of a way out of all of this, quickly, without giving in and letting him hold your surrender over you for Maker knows how long. It’s so fucking simple, you don’t know why you didn’t think of it before. You don’t have to wait him out at all; instead, you just need to… entice him into giving in first.

Neither of you say anything for a while, and you don’t know what he’s thinking (nothing, probably—a dry tumbleweed bouncing across an empty desert landscape, you imagine) but you take the dip in conversation to consider a plan. You can’t go at it too outright, it’ll be too big of a turnaround and he’ll see it coming lightyears away. A halfhearted joke about your pussy tossed out without thinking is what catalyzed the most substantial reaction from him you’ve seen, so… maybe you can keep steering the conversation towards the idea.

“How many wet dreams have you had?” You suddenly ask, your heart beginning to pick up in your chest as soon as the words are out of your mouth.

“Excuse me?” Dameron grunts from behind you, and you catch his reflection raising a thick eyebrow at you.

You take a deep breath and disguise it by stretching your back out just a little bit, lifting your shoulder blades and arching the sore muscles there, before settling back down in your normal crappy posture once more. “Now many times did you cum in your sleep? Had to at least been once for you to claim they don’t count.”

“Why does it matter?” He asks, completely sidestepping the question for the second time. “It was involuntary.”

You shrug. “Just so I know how many freebies I can get tonight.”

“No,” Dameron instantly counters, his voice dead serious. “Not fucking allowed.”

“Why not?” You ask, and this time, there’s significantly less challenge than you’d typically deliver it with. Instead, your voice is soft, questioning. Not argumentative, but curious, and there’s just enough of your point left unsaid that it’ll seem like he conjured the rest of the image himself.

There’s silence while he considers his response to the perfectly executed bait. You assume you’re both picturing the same thing, because it’s what you’ve pictured almost every single night spent in this celibate hellscape. The cool darkness of your shared quarters, the standard-issue sheets that still feel crispy and rough on your skin no matter how many nights you’ve slept in them, with one of your hands pressed tight over your mouth and two of your fingers circle your clit.

“You only get to do it if I’m in the room,” he poses instead, and you swallow thickly, feeling your body tighten with an unintentional drop of pure heat through your tummy at the thought. Maker, it must be really bad if Poe fucking Dameron is getting to you like this. The bane of your existence shouldn’t make your insides twist in on themselves—at least, not in a good way.

“Not like I’d have much choice,” you eventually respond, keeping it purposefully ambiguous. “It’s your room, too. Unfortunately.”

Stars, it’s been so long since you’ve done this, since you’ve walked the fine line between flirtation and seduction, wanting to turn on the charm slowly—gradually ease it up like a hyperdrive lever under your fingertips so that you’re at maximum by the time he realizes you’re even there. You take a moment to glance at his reflection, watching Dameron look back at you curiously, a flash of interest in his eyes.

“By the way, how does that one girl feel about us doing this?” You ask out of nowhere, suddenly remembering the existence of his pretty little number. You’ve seen her under his arm around base at least a few times, which is more than you can say for the rest of them. “Red-Six. Tall brunette with the tattoos—I don’t bother learning names, they all come and go.”

“Nihla,” Dameron nods with a wistful sigh, tilting his head to rest against his shoulder. “Or, wait… Neah. No—it was… Nalal. Yeah, Nalal, I think that’s right…”

“Unbelievable,” you mutter. “One of the greatest mysteries of the universe is how many people get in line for you, I’ll never fucking understand it.”

“They just want me for my cock,” he tells you without missing a single beat, sounding like he’s not joking in the slightest. “It was starting to get obnoxious. Glad I finally have an excuse to turn them down.”

“Unbelievable,” you repeat, stunned by how truly, mind-blowingly full of himself he is. “You’re… fucking…”

You end up just staring at him and making a sound somewhere between a laugh and a scoff, at a complete loss for words, and Dameron eventually shrugs and continues on after you fail to form a coherent thought in the allotted time frame he provides.

“Now I can just tell them I’m in a long-running bet with Gold-Ten over who can sexually deprive themselves the longest and weirdly enough, they don’t seem all that interested anymore,” he remarks, tilting his chin up and rubbing at his beard again, and for some reason… the sound of it bothers you somewhat less now, the way he phrased that resonating deeper inside you than it should. Lower than it should. You blink a few times, almost shocked by your body’s unprecedented response to his admission—Poe Dameron uses you as an excuse to turn down sex with pretty girls? Happily?—and your mind goes blank for a second while he watches you through the transparisteel. “It’s alright,” he eventually goes on, tilting his head. “Sometimes a sabbatical is good. I do really miss pussy, though.”

“Well,” you finally tell him, oddly not having much else to offer at the moment. “I’m sorry? And… you’re welcome. I guess.”

Dameron shrugs once more and makes an apathetic sound without opening his mouth, and you drop your stare down to the machinery between your spread thighs after feeling like you were looking at each other for too long. The position started uncomfortable and seven hours later, it’s still fucking uncomfortable. At first the discomfort twinged at your hips and lower back, but now the sensation seems to be… centering itself a bit more, finding a spot right between your legs, especially when his words echo through your subconscious and make you naturally want to push your thighs together. I do really miss pussy, though.

You try to snap out of it a bit, try to stop hyperfixating on the way your underwear has felt sticky and wet for fucking hours now, but it’s so fucking difficult to chill yourself out when your body already went into this whole situation with a month and a half long stumbling block. He’s not really doing anything at all—he’s leant back in his chair and staring out the window into the black emptiness of space when you steal a look once more, but something about how his casual responses are affecting you makes it seem like he’s the one currently seducing you.

Maker, you have to focus. You have to control yourself. You’re starting to feel a little warm in your thick jumpsuit—a particular shade of orange that does not compliment your complexion but you normally rejoice in wearing regardless. It’s baggy and uniform and hides most of your curves and most importantly, it keeps you toasty on missions like this. Space is cold —especially this far out in the Cauper Void, and there’s no fucking reason this powered down hunk of floating metal should feel as muggy and stifling as it does in here.

“We shouldn’t be doing this,” you suddenly hear yourself say, spontaneously, no thought put into it whatsoever. One last try, one last attempt to avoid it, a last-ditch go at flight before he gives you no choice and you’re left with this one remaining option. “This isn’t a good idea. It’s… not healthy. I don’t want to do this anymore.”

This gets a small chuckle out of him. “I know you don’t, pretty baby.”

“Then let’s just call the whole thing off,” you propose once again, trying to lighten your tone, make it a… a friendly thing. It sounds so fake, even to your own ears—since when would you be desperate enough to let the dreaded petname slide?—but granted, you know what they say about time and measures and all that shit. “We can call it a tie, just go back to the way things were befo—”

He cuts you off and pins you with his gaze through the reflection. “You realize that you begging me to put an end to your suffering is—ridiculously hot, mostly—but also only an incentive to make me keep pushing until you finally give in?”

You groan and comb some of your hair off your forehead, not liking the way it’s getting just the slightest bit damp. “Fine, we won’t call it off, but can we at least just stop—” You immediately catch yourself, not wanting to unintentionally push this too far too quickly, but your hesitation is clear and compelling enough for him to prompt you.

“At least just stop what?” Dameron asks, and though you don’t think it’s intentional or even noticeable from his perspective, something about the way his voice sounds… husky. Low to the ground.

“Stop dragging it out,” you breathe, your heart pounding. Why is your heart pounding so fucking fast? This is a fucking sting op, a facade, so why are you getting so caught up in the lie you’ve spun for yourself? “Finish it. Sooner, rather than later. Quit being masochists about it, just fucking put it to—”

Maker, your eyes instinctively snap to his at your poor choice of wording, having almost said bed on complete accident. Genuinely, you didn’t mean to phrase it that way, but at the same time, the thought of it almost burns you alive. Fuck. Dameron, and you, in bed. It could be mean. It could be rough. A fight for dominance more than anything. He’s bigger than you and he could make it fucking hurt, especially after going without it for as long as you have, but something about how double-edged that type of relief would be isn’t really sinking in for you right now. Like a person slowly dying of thirst that’s fantasizing about drowning. Regardless, the idea of a night with him and the sudden assortment of vivid imagery it provides is enough to get you to shut up and take a deep breath, just wait with your mouth shut for whatever his response is.

Unfortunately, you don’t have to wait long at all.

“This is cute,” he suddenly tells you, and you jerk back and sputter a bunch of consonants stupidly like he smacked you.

“Fuck you?” Are the first recognizable words that can be heard. “I’m not—this isn’t fucking— cute?”

“It’s cute,” Dameron repeats, hiding a soft smile from you with a few of his fingers pressed to his lips. “You,” he says as he points at your reflection, twirling his finger around in circles, “trying to be all sneaky about it, go about your little performance. It’s like… watching a little kid just blatantly fuck up a magic trick but they’re naive enough to think it’s working. Keep going, I’m enthralled.”

You hold still for just a second as ice suddenly sinks through your tummy and clears away any trace of warmth you may have once felt from before. Of course. Stupid. Stupid, you shouldn’t have even tried something like that, you don’t know why you thought…

Horrifyingly, you go dead silent and the lack of an immediate response from you hangs awkwardly in the still air. You’re usually so quick with him, so fiery, letting the things he throws at you just glide right off you, but for some insane reason, you’re actually fucking… embarrassed? A little bit?

You should say something, but your whole body is just frustratingly blank, almost buzzing in mortification, and it gets worse and worse the longer you stay quiet. You don’t usually put yourself in a position to be compromised, and you certainly didn’t think the place he decided to jab this time had particularly thin skin.

You… you’d forgotten what it’s like to have someone laugh at you when you’re genuinely trying your best to flirt.

Well, it’s too late to say anything now, you think. Now it’s just uncomfortable in here—true discomfort, not the typical angry silences. You’re used to that, you’re used to huffing and crossing your arms and ticking your jaw through the breaks in conversation, refusing to say a word because you’re beyond pissed off. This is different. This quiet sits different in the air, this emotion hits different in your chest, somewhere vulnerable. A crack in your armor he found without even necessarily intending to, but at this point, the stupid way you can’t seem to hide the wound from him is just as much to blame.

“So, uh…” Dameron clears his throat as you shut your eyes tight against the awkwardness, but you can still feel a strange little shift in the air from behind you. There’s something about the enclosed space, the quiet darkness surrounding you both, you feel… too close to him. Sharing his air, feeling the energy when it’s cramped and you’re not able to just get up and storm away from him like normal. You don’t like it. You don’t like that you can immediately tell something has changed without being able to see him, that type of intimacy between you is pushing a boundary you can’t quite pinpoint but know exists.

You snap your eyes open and look over at Dameron’s reflection when he’s quiet for too long, and though you try to glare as fiercely as possible at him while you do it, the look on his face almost stops you dead. The pure intensity raging in his expression, the way he’s got his eyes narrowed, flicking back and forth between yours, carefully studying you, wondering if perhaps he may have gotten it all wrong. “I mean, y’know. Theoretically speaking, and all. If I broke, you’d let me fuck you?”

You… aren’t expecting that.

You don’t know why but your heart suddenly starts to race again, but it’s not the same as before. Before it was speeding up and at an angle, like a rocket trying to escape a body’s gravitational pull, to go somewhere, search for something. This time it just feels like it’s ricketing downhill, unsteady and out of control, about to break apart with every single pothole that rattles and slams through you. Shit. You didn’t expect the ultimatum would be presented to you so up front like that—you thought there’d be… some resistance, at least.

Fuck, you take way too fucking long thinking about it, and your face feels warmer and warmer the more you mentally pick apart his specific phrasing, wondering where you should even begin. You still haven’t said anything, but the damage is already done. What should've been a firm, instantaneous go fuck yourself is left suspended, unanswered, open for interpretation. You miss your window of opportunity to shut him down, you overshoot it by a longshot, and then you feel that spark of a what-if flare deep down once more.

No, fucking stop it. Stop it. Maker, your eyes do everything they can to not look at him while you concentrate and work to tap into your anger, stoking the flames of your fire to avoid feeling… temptation. How dare he? How fucking dare he do this to you, especially when there’s no chance to get out of here, to abort mission and cut your losses? You clench your jaw and isolate that fury, magnify it until it’s the only thing you can feel anymore.

“My turn now,” Dameron eventually breaks the silence to clarify, blinking at you, and by this point you’re so fucking pissed off that you don’t recognize that isn’t actually a question.

“No,” you immediately snap, strung far too thin to deal with this new, treacherous territory with him. Defaulting to normal is best, it’s easier. “No, it’s not your turn, and fuck no, you can’t fuck me, not even if it means I win this stupid bet. No to everything that has anything to fucking do with you, alright? Don’t talk to me. You’re lucky if I agree to sleep in the same fucking room as you tonight. And—and?—I think your beard looks dumb.”

Okay, so maybe the last part was just a little bit childish, but you’re in such a bad fucking mood and you want to insult something he’s clearly just trying out for right now, hasn’t yet solidified as part of his usual appearance and unshakeable confidence in it. It’s a downright lie—you think he might look more attractive with it than he ever has. Effortlessly rugged and masculine, framing his face and making his eyes all the more piercing.

You don’t think it works, but regardless, he heeds your sharp words and says nothing for a good few minutes at least. You had hoped the break in interaction would allow you the ability to reset a little bit, give yourself time to work through it, but it’s like the pressure in the air steadily increases regardless of how silent it is in here—or perhaps, because of it.

You can’t help it. You flick your eyes to the transparisteel in front of you once more and catch his reflection staring directly at you, unmoving. It jars you as much as it sparks your anger, and you glare down at your hands and give him a few seconds. A few seconds of grace, of mercy, before you try again.

Sure enough, he’s still got his dark eyes pinned to you when you go to check once more, like he’s actually fucking thinking about something right now, which is just… astounding, for obvious reasons. Mainly, the nerve of him. The fucking nerve of him to be able to look at you like that, like he’s just entitled to study your every feature, searching your eyes for things you’ve never looked deep enough to find within yourself, making incredibly loud assumptions with his mind that he has absolutely no right to be making.

“Shut up,” You snap at him defensively, feeling like you’re sweating buckets even in the freezing emptiness of dead space. You can’t figure out if it’s a cold sweat or if your body is legitimately just malfunctioning under his stare. “Shut up.”

You watch as his reflection suddenly drops his head back against the seat and rolls out the stiffness of his neck, blinking his eyes shut and raising his eyebrows like you’re completely overreacting, like he has absolutely no idea. “I didn’t say anything.”

“You’re not that dumb,” you challenge. “You’re… plotting. Evil plotting.”

A thick eyebrow drops so that only one is quirked up, and a grin pulls at his lips.

“You’re right,” Dameron admits casually after a moment with his eyes still closed, his voice pitched low in the cramped ship. “I was thinking about what it’s gonna take to get you to lose.”

You swallow against the dryness in your throat, starting to unintentionally bounce one of your legs up and down without even realizing it. Fuck, this ship is small, it’s too fucking small in here—you gaze wistfully out at the vast endlessness of space, wanting to grit your teeth at the irony of being surrounded by the one thing you so desperately wish you had.

“I just have to find a weakness,” he shifts forward in his seat and reveals to you, bewilderingly shameless in his honesty. Like all of a sudden you’re an accomplice to this endeavor instead of its target, as if he isn’t spoiling the secret by letting you in on it. “Something that you like, that gets you going. Something that riles you up, gets you all hot and bothered down there—”

“So you can exploit it,” you huff, slouching over a bit and trying not to sound like you’re pouting.

“—so I can exploit it,” he finishes happily, collapsing back into his seat like he’s glad you caught on so quick and he doesn’t have to explain further. “Now we can do the whole routine—the bickering, the tension, the undeniable sexual chemistry we have—or we can skip all that and you can just tell me flat out what it’s gonna take to rev that pretty little engine up, because I want it purring.”

And, it’s so fucking weird, because the specific verbiage that would normally make you cringe just hearing it spoken aloud doesn’t inspire the typical response, even though it feels like it should. It feels like you should be grossed out, it feels like a moment you should screw up your facial expression and act offended, but you’re… not. This is actually fucking working, it’s unbelievable. The undeniable fact infuriates you just as much as it stumps you.

“You do realize that everything you say is a game that two can play at, right?” You point out, not really sure where you’re going with this but feeling heated about it all the same. “What’s stopping me from exploiting something you like?”

“See now that’s a great idea,” Dameron announces, clapping his hands together happily and sending you jumping a few inches in your seat at the sudden sound, your hand automatically shooting up to rest on your thumping heart. “I can tell you what I like, and you can just listen.”

Alright, no, wait—backtrack—

“How about I tell you what I don’t like,” you snip breathlessly, tucking your hair behind your ear and feeling all the blood rush to your cheeks. Default to normal, default to normal. “Your fucking attitude. Your demeanor. The way you talk down to me. You don’t listen. You walk around like you’re such hot shit just because you’re a good pilot but none of that means anything when you don’t ever fucking listen. You’re terrible at it, doesn’t matter who’s talking—you don’t listen to me, you don’t listen to people who actually like you, you don’t listen to orders, you don’t listen to reason—”

“You think I’m a good pilot?” He suddenly asks, and you have to take a second. This cockpit isn’t designed for anything other than sitting, much less turning all the way around, but you’re sure you can find some way to throttle him from here. He chuckles as you let out the loudest sigh you’ve ever heard yourself make—which, is an incredible feat you think both of you should be congratulated for—before Dameron eventually carries on. “You could tell me that,” he admits with a shrug, a hidden smile on his face that he’s trying to bite back. “Or you could tell me the truth.”

You shouldn’t encourage him, but you just can’t fucking help it. There’s something inside you, something you can only compare to a morbid sort of curiosity. Maybe you’re just a glutton for punishment, even more so than agreeing to this bet has already confirmed. “And that would be—?”

“That you use anger as a defense mechanism because I touch a nerve you didn’t realize you had,” Dameron replies breezily. “Have since the moment we met. And that you maybe want me to touch something else, but you’re too stubborn and proud and committed to hating me to ever admit it. You can admit it, it’s okay, I can touch whatever you need me to tou—”

“How about the emergency eject button?” You hiss, finally feeling your frustration peak. “Pop the top on this bitch. Put me out of my fucking misery, right now. You’ve got such a big head that the blood flow will probably keep your tiny little brain warm enough as long as you strap yourself down beforehand, I’ll wait. And then you can go back to base, alone , and find another poor girl to emotionally torture since you probably don’t get enough of it from the ones you work your way through but can never remember the most basic things about.”

Remarkably, that actually shuts him up. You’re doubtful the jab really hurts him, but you’re not going to feel bad about it either way. He deserved that. You cross your arms over your chest and don’t even bother looking at him, huffing and flushed with the climax of your ferocity, now left feeling strangely exhausted in its wake. Eventually your breathing evens out and disappears into the silence, until nothing at all can be heard.

It’s like that for a moment—only a moment, before the loud tearing of velcro suddenly shreds through the quiet in the cockpit, completely rattling you. Automatically your eyes shoot over to his reflection, watching large hands pull the orange jumpsuit apart at his chest and then shrug it over broad shoulders. It’s not sexual. It can’t be sexual, because there’s just no fucking room to allow it—it takes him forever to pull the long sleeves down his arms, but the way he drags it out somehow just increases your anticipation for an event you should have absolutely no interest in spectating. He’s wearing a white sleeveless undershirt underneath and the jumpsuit bunches at his waist, making him look all the longer and more defined as he finally collapses back into his seat and reclines in it, the distant constellations bathing his lean torso in dim speckles of starlight.

Your gaze catches on every good part of him—it falls down the muscular lines of his neck and follows the thin gold chain wrapped around it, disappearing into the white of his scooping neckline. His toned body finds a place to rest and stretch out without looking awkward or uncomfortable, coarse hair darkening his jaw and dusting the strong lines of his forearms—but it’s his eyes that make your heart stutter. They’re endlessly deep and dark and knowing , and you can’t seem to look away from him, not even when he opens his mouth to address you.

“You’re always so fucking mean to me,” Dameron remarks, and for just a split second—just a split second, you feel a stab of regret. “I should eat you out tonight.”

Fuck, he hits the nail right on the head on his very first try, and just hearing the words come out of his mouth so effortlessly makes your pussy clench in on itself in need. Nothing about his inflection changed from one sentence to the next, nothing in his voice made it seem like he just flipped the fucking galaxy upside down with just a few words. To an onlooker who doesn’t speak Basic, they’d have absolutely no hint as to why your face is suddenly radiating heat at an industrial capacity, blazing hot enough to warm the whole cockpit. You feel like you’re literally burning up with it. You have to put a palm to your cheek to make sure it’s not actually on fucking fire. “What— what did you just say to me?”

“That’s what you need,” he drawls, unbothered by the sharpness of your tone. “What you’ve needed, ever since I can remember. Should’ve done it a long fucking time ago, now that I’m thinking about it. How long’s it been? Tell me the truth, I know it’s been awhile.”

You feel like you’re being roasted alive like one of those hairy little Kowakian monkey-lizards that you’re pretty sure have sentient designation but are the first to be skewered and cooked over the firepit regardless. Your heart is slamming against your sternum and you scramble to come up with an even slightly clever response after such an ambush.

“This is your plan?” You raise an eyebrow at him, feeling a bead of sweat drop down your temple and onto the corner of your lashes. Oh fuck, be cool, be cool. “You think this is gonna work? Ask me if I want a weak orgasm and rugburn on my thighs?”

“I can shave,” Dameron proposes quietly, lifting his chin and gently scrubbing the side of his cheek. The sound of the thick bristles against his fingers makes you swallow thickly and push back very vivid thoughts of how his face would feel between your legs. How soft and wet his mouth would feel at the center of that thick, coarse beard. “Tonight, I’ll shave it off. Make it nice and smooth for you.”

Something inside you surges up to assure him he absolutely should not shave, and you actually have to bite your tongue to keep it buried at the last second. Stars, that was a close one, what the fuck prompted that?

“I don’t give a shit what you do,” you quickly return, resisting the urge to wipe your brow. “Beard or no beard, makes no difference. Foreplay is overrated, I’m not big on wasting time.”

“Oh, you poor thing,” he immediately laments—so quick , and the worst part is that the sympathy in his voice actually sounds sincere. You’re having trouble looking him in the eyes right now, hearing the genuine pity come through in his tone. “Who… who did this to you?”

“You said you want to figure out what I like, what turns me on,” you return, tucking your hair behind your ear once more and trying not to sound self-conscious. Maker, how long until your shift is over? You need to get out of here, this shit is… way out of your league. “I’m not into it, so try again.”

“Really?” Dameron takes a moment to look at you, furrow his thick eyebrows at you in barely concealed curiosity, before his head tilts sideways and drops to his shoulder. “Normally I’d respect that, but I meant it when I said you need it.”

“We fucking hate each other, Dameron,” you hiss, a reminder to him as much as it is to yourself. Fuck, you really don’t like where this is going. “You don’t know anything about me, you don’t know what the I n—”

“I bet you think we’d fuck hard,” he murmurs, low enough that you have to take an unsteady breath and physically brace yourself for whatever is going to come from that dirty mouth next. “You think that maybe I’d throw you around a little, give it to you from behind, teach you a fucking lesson for always talking back to me. But that’s primitive shit, Gold-Ten, that’s not for you.”

Resist. Resist . You’re part of the fucking Resistance, for Maker’s sake, you’re taught to hold out until death in torture scenarios. Since when did this tin can suddenly become a new POW camp simulation you have to train for?

“I want to take you apart so slow that you can’t talk at all,” Dameron continues quietly, and you close your eyes, biting your bottom lip hard enough to sting. “We don’t even have to fuck—I mean, I want to, but mostly I just want to taste you. Go nice and slow. I want you on your back, so I can look in your eyes and see all that anger just… fade away. I want to watch you try to fight how fucking good I’ll make it. How hot it’s gonna be when you can’t glare at me anymore, when your pretty doll eyes go all soft and sweet and you finally realize that I’ve never hated you at all.”

Maker. This is a trick. It’s not a question, it shouldn’t be presented like one—this is a dirty rotten trick , and you’re not gonna fall for it. You can’t fucking fall for it. It’s a low blow, and you refuse to even acknowledge he said anything at all. He’s lying to get your guard down. He laughed at your flirting. He’s a shit person, he’s using you, this isn’t real.

Real or not, you still gulp loud enough for him to hear it.

“We could go back to our room after our shift is over,” he offers out of the blue, and you have no clue why, but when he pauses and lets it hang in the air for a second, you don’t interrupt him. You stay completely silent while he waits for you, waits for your typical snarky comeback. You have it in your head instantly, you know what you’d normally say. Your room. It’s not ‘our’ room, it’s fucking your room that you’re generous enough to let him bunk in, a privilege he’s this fucking close to losing—but you can’t find it in yourself to say it right now. Your anger is gradually losing the war to your arousal and you’re forced to watch every single small defeat inside you happen from the sidelines.

His reflection blinks at you through the transparisteel, his eyebrows raising just slightly at your prolonged silence, before he suddenly sits up a little and leans forward.

“And I could lock the door,” Dameron continues, lowering his voice, both in volume and register. “The lights in there are way too fucking bright but I don’t want to be in complete darkness, so maybe we can turn them off and open the port shade, let just enough light come through to see. I could turn on the radio, find something quiet, easy to listen to. Something you like, I’ll let you pick it out. And then… Wait, hang on, which bed?”

You clench your jaw and purposefully say nothing even as your pussy squeezes, glaring right through his reflection into the black void of space.

“Mmm. Your bed,” he eventually decides. “I want you comfortable. You shower at night. Your hair will be wet and you’ll be in those baggy pajamas that you think I can’t see your nipples through, the ones that I know you take off under your covers and then put on in the morning when you think I’m still asleep. That’s good, I want you relaxed, so that maybe… maybe you’d let me take your panties off at some point. And you could lay back and open your legs, and I could go down on you for a little while. However long you need.”

Fuck.

No, this isn’t fucking happening. Your lower muscles aren’t twisting in so hard that it actually fucking hurts, your pussy isn’t leaking through two layers of fabric under your jumpsuit, your body isn’t outright revolting against the sheer neglect you’ve put it through. Maker, it’s fucking painful. You have to clench your hands into fists and dig your fingernails into your palms before you can open your mouth.

“You want to know what I need?” You nearly wheeze, a drop of sweat sliding down the back of your neck this time. Your body feels like it’s three sizes too big for this cockpit and your skin feels like it’s three sizes too small for your body. “I need you to shut the fuck u—”

“What you need,” Dameron purrs, sliding up closer behind your seat and sighing soft against the worn material of your headrest, “is a warm mouth to cum in. Don’t be shy, pretty baby, you can tell me.”

You growl out his last name as threateningly as you possibly can before he purrs yours right back in your ear, and fuck, you’ve never heard it sound so sexual before. Last names allow pilots to maintain a respectful distance from each other. Flight designations are Resistance-wide, but last names are just… allies. Not friends, not companions, but a vast network of people brought together by a common enemy. It hurts to lose a first name. But the way yours sounds rolling off of Dameron’s tongue is just too sinful, too intimate when calling you that is meant to sever intimacy by design. He says it slow and makes it dirty, muddies it in the back of his throat as he slides up even closer to you, until his face is right next to yours as you stare at each other through the transparisteel.

“I’m really…” he pauses, before exhaling through his nose and swallowing thick enough to make his Adam’s apple drop and bounce up again, his tongue coming out to wet his plush lips as he blinks slowly at you with a heavy gaze, “… really good at it. Call me Poe and I’ll do it for you all night.”

Shit, your pussy is just a fucking mess right now. It feels like it’s melting sweet and syrupy all over your thighs, throbbing and pounding and clamping up and screaming at you to do something, at least press your hand down there to alleviate some of the aching tensi—

No— stars, no touching yourself is rule number two. You drop your hands to your thighs and squeeze them, trying to reign yourself back in.

“I think you’re—just projecting,” you try, but turns out responding in general is just an all-around bad idea. Nothing about it comes out right. The ‘just’ sounds like your tongue is stuck to the roof of your mouth and your voice cracks on the word ‘projecting,’ but you don’t even have time to be self-conscious or embarrassed at how much you’re giving yourself away—all your energy has to go towards fighting the tightness between your open legs, how you’re so fucking turned on that you’re worried you’ll cum without even touching yourself. Oh Maker, can you imagine? How fucking proud of himself he’d be? You can’t let that happen, but fuck, holding back something so appealing is so much harder than it sounds.

Tap into that anger, tap into that anger—only, you can’t suddenly find it. Where’d it go? Fuck, doesn’t matter, conjure it. Quick, before it’s too late, get mad —don’t let him lure you into a… a false…

Dameron tilts his chin down towards the line of your shoulder and then slowly turns his head towards your neck, breathing you in gently.

A false sense of…

His soft exhale makes goosebumps break out all the way down your arms.

… What?

“Maybe you’re right,” Dameron acknowledges, talking just under your ear. You watch his eyelids dip and the dark beard brushes against your skin and you catch just a hint of that woodsy, spicy scent engulfing you. Like… teakwood, maybe? Stars, you don’t know, you think you’re starting to lose your mind. What the fuck does teakwood even smell like? “Maybe it’s just what I need. You should exploit it, chances are I’ll still cum first.”

That rockets another painful spasm down low. It hurts so fucking bad—fuck, maybe you could… rub yourself up against these weapons controls? Just a little bit? That joystick, right there, just ease yourself up against it just to nurse this wound a little bit…?

No, fucking— bad. That’s bad, you have to stop—

“This isn’t real, this isn’t—y-you just…” You flutter your eyelashes shut, digging your fingernails into your thighs like it’ll help break through the fog of his lulling voice, how fucking amazing he smells right now. “You just want to win th-the b—”

“ Fuck the bet,” he tells you quietly, his head dipped low enough now that his lips brush against your neck, and you shudder so hard at the sensation that your shoulder almost knocks into his chin with it. “You really think I’m doing all this for a fucking bet?”

Don’t trust him, don’t trust him, don’t—

Your deep breath is so stuttery and uneven that it’s technically just a series of shallow inhales all anxiously strung together, too desperate for oxygen to go about it legato. It’s painfully obvious to him by now, it has to be, but you very quickly miss the shaky breathing as soon as he takes away your ability to do it all together.

“Let me taste you,” he whispers, his voice almost breaking with how gentle it is, how it sounds like it flips in and out of his register when he speaks this low. “Right now, let’s make it real, let m—I know you have to be soaking fucking wet, baby, just let me try a little bit of it, please—I’m… holy shit, I’m so hard just thinking about it.”

“You c-can’t,” you stammer, reaching up to pinch the bridge of your nose in frustration. At him, at the situation, at the painful throb of emptiness between your legs. “Fuck, it’s not allowed, it’s against the rules—”

“It won’t be,” he assures you, and you hiccup when you suddenly feel his hand brush against your side, strong fingers branching out to curve against your ribcage. “You don’t have to do anything, you can stay just like this. Just a few seconds and then I’ll stop, I promise.”

Oh, Maker, it’s on the very top of your tongue, so unbelievably close to telling him something—but you don’t know what it should be. You’re right at the tipping point, on a tightrope right between what you want and what you should want. And, knowing you’re this close to giving in, Dameron slowly eases his hand down your side and starts to trail it inwards, and just the lightest brush of his warm tongue against your neck shatters any composure you have left.

You whimper and instinctively try to close your legs, but you fucking can’t— your knees are forced wide apart by controls and your whole body freezes when his hand slides down and folds gently along the curve of your pussy through the thick fabric of your jumpsuit.

The feeling of being held like this by him is just too good , cradled so perfectly in his palm as he opens his mouth and flutters his tongue out to taste your skin again, giving you a little more of it this time and letting you feel the roughness of his beard with the way his lips move. Your breath catches, then he hooks his fingertips up just the slightest bit and pulls back, and you suddenly have to smack your whole hand over your face in a terrible attempt to stifle your loud gasp.

“Oh, Maker, I c-can’t,” you stammer against your fingers, not being able to trust him or your own body. You continue to protest even after he moves back up, resting his palm low on your abdomen, letting the heat bleed through the fabric and transfer directly to your floor muscles as he lifts his head up from your shoulder. “I can’t, we can’t, I…”

You can’t see him, but you know he’s looking at you. He’s staring right at you through the reflection, studying the way you’re hiding your face from him, how you’re still melting, still losing your composure just from the warm palm pressed tight your tummy.

His touch leaves you for a second. But then the deafening sound of velcro ripping at the crotch of your jumpsuit has you dragging your hand down your mouth and your eyelids dipping.

“Dameron,” you breathe into your fingers, just as his carefully slip into the small opening and begin to work at the button to your pants. “Dameron, this isn’t—you don’t want—”

“You don’t get to tell me what I don’t want,” he grunts at you, and you try not to bite yourself at the sound of him unzipping things and yanking fabric to the side. “What I really fucking want is the real thing, but I guess this’ll have to do for now.”

“I—” Your mind whirs desperately, trying to process when his fingers wedge under your panties and down. But he doesn’t give you a single fucking second. As soon as the tip of his middle finger reaches your slit, he’s dropping it and sliding it through your slick, hot, unbearably neglected cunt.

“Fuck,” he spits, and you feel like you might be about to break your own fucking jaw with how hard you’re clutching it, trying so desperately not to make a noise. The pad of his finger is rough and calloused as it drags against your clit in slow, tight circles, and you clamp your eyes shut and try to breathe normally, but it’s no use. Fuck , it’s been so long . You’ve been aching for it for a full fucking month and a half now and you know that even if he couldn’t feel it, he can hear how drenched you are right now. It’s making an obscene sound as he steadily masturbates you with one heavenly finger, giving your body what it’s desperately craved for so many weeks. “Fuck, baby’s pussy got fucking wet hearing me talk about how good I’d lick it, huh?”

That sends a bright flare launching through you and you gasp raggedly, both hands whipping out to snatch at his forearm where it disappears between your legs. “No, shit, wait, stopstopstopstop stop , I—”

His hand slips out immediately and yet you continue to tremble like his finger is still right there, like your clit is just imagining it so vividly that it’s successfully convincing itself of the illusion. The aching bit of flesh is burning, that good burn, the one that’s searing and bright that makes your muscles continue to chase the sensation long after the stimulation is gone. Fuck, he almost made you cum. He barely touched you for a few seconds and yet your fingers have to tighten into claws to slow your body down the fuck down, flexing against your thighs and trying your best to halt the impending climax.

By the time you’re able to wrangle yourself back from the edge and look at his reflection, his middle finger is already in his mouth and he’s blinking slowly at you, his pupils blown wide. You’re breathing hard at him, staring open-mouthed at the way his lips are closed below his second knuckle, how he takes forever dragging it back out again. You have to close your eyes. You have to clamp them shut and keep them that way, knowing you won’t be able to look at him through whatever he’s going to say next.

Except, oddly, he doesn’t say much.

“Shit,” he breathes, dropping his mouth to your neck once more. “Shhhit. I…”

Your eyes snap open in sudden, blind panic when he doesn’t continue, horrified at the possibility that he doesn’t like it. Dameron always has something to say, he doesn’t go speechless. “Oh—Maker, is it not—?”

“Mmmfuck, just—” he grits, panting hot air against your skin, “—fuck. Give me a second.”

You can only see the crown of his head with the way he’s angled, but you can see his shoulders a little further back. They start… moving slightly. Just the littlest bit, a smooth motion, like his whole body is slowly easing back and forth—

The nav controls are between his legs, you immediately realize. He’s grinding up against them with how close he is to you and your seat.

And suddenly, it’s like there’s a light at the end of the tunnel. A ray of sunshine that breaks through the raging storm. Dameron might cum in his pants like this. Which means you’ll win, and arguably more importantly, you’ll finally be able to cum. You don’t even take a moment to consider the potential consequences—how you’re going to have to withstand the stimulation until he succumbs to it, how you’ll have to outlast—but you’re not thinking straight. You’re not really thinking at all.

“You can…” you suddenly hear yourself whisper, and your heart pounds in your throat when he instantly stops moving. “One… one more. If you want. You can put your finger inside this time, it’s where I’m the… w-wettest.”

“Fuck,” Dameron croaks into the crook of your neck, his voice scraping low and rough and sending a tremor through you. “Fuck, okay, yeah—”

His hand slides across your hip and down, but you catch him just in time.

“But don’t touch my clit.” You try to sound as firm as possible through the breathlessness, still trying to put your foot down even when you’re giving in, and Dameron’s teeth come out as he stifles a soft groan into your neck in response.

“Yes, baby,” he murmurs obediently as his hand sinks down once more, and so diligently, he avoids it altogether. His fingers slide under your panties and fall straight down to your entrance, down to where you know you’re the hottest, where your pussy is flexing and pushing wetness out with a steady, wicked throb. The pad of his middle finger presses gently against the tight muscles there, rubs just the slightest bit to feel that resistance, and then the length of it eases inside you so slowly that your knees rattle against bulky metal.

“Fucking Maker , ” he hisses as he slides it in, his body making a sudden jerk against the controls.

Your eyes roll back at the feeling of something inside you after so long, after such a torturous buildup, and you grasp at his forearm again when it curls naturally up against searing pleasure. Oh, it’s so good, it’s so good, your hands shake while he very carefully moves it in and out, the raw sparks of heat threatening to incinerate you as your muscles cling to every ridge of his finger. He gets it sopping wet, bathes it so completely in your slick that you’re almost certain it’ll come out pruny and drenched.

“Shit, okay,” you pant, squeezing desperately around his finger, “o-okay, fuck, that’s enough.”

His hand pulls out… slower this time. He slips his finger out of you quick enough, but he drags the tip of it through your folds as he retreats, just barely grazing your clit and making you jolt in your seat. Shit, you don’t know if it felt intentional enough to fault him for it—mostly it just excites you, thrills you to have him edge you like this without really needing to put any effort at all into it.

Dameron lifts his head to sink his finger deep into his mouth once more, and you tremble as you watch him enjoy it, staring at the way his shoulders seem to relax as soon as your taste is on his tongue, how his face goes soft with it and he almost slumps.

Relief. Genuine, not embellished. He still doesn’t say anything after he slowly slides it out and blinks at you, no sugar sweet drawl telling you how amazing you taste, no candied words to make you give in and let him have another go. You’re both breathing hard at each other, staring, waiting to see who will break first.

Stars, you… fucking like this. You want him to keep going, but you can’t offer it again. It’s just too exposing, too revealing to let him you’re actually really fucking enjoying this, you can’t—

“Do you w—?” Your voice automatically comes out through the silence without your permission, sounding just absolutely fucking wrecked by this point, but his palm is already slithering back down as soon as you speak, and you make the softest little submissive noise in your throat at him taking immediate initiative like that. He’s not as careful about it this time—his hand finds its target with less frill, his finger slides in quicker, sinking deep into your heat with little hesitation, lighting you on fire from the inside out, and you bite the meat of your thumb to stay quiet.

“Fuck, this is so hot,” he suddenly breathes next to your ear while your legs spasm and you gasp brokenly. “This is so—fuck, pretty baby letting me do this to her, I can’t fucking believe—”

Dameron eases a second finger inside you this time, letting you feel that delicious stretch from this angle, unable to lift your legs or shuffle around to help and subsequently resigned to simply experience it the way he gives it to you. Your teeth have probably permanently indented your bottom lip from how hard you’re clamped down, a testament to how much you’re trying to hold back the loud moan you miraculously haven’t released yet. Somehow it makes it sexier, not letting him hear you, not having your own noises to drown out the spark of urgency in his voice beginning to peek through.

Shit, it’s too much. You can only let him touch you a few seconds at a time before you feel that familiar tug towards mind-numbing bliss, and the more he does it, the more appealing that feeling then becomes. It’s teasing you, floating right in front of you and calling into question what could possibly be so bad about just reaching out to meet it? You could. You could cum right now. What’s two weeks of pay? You could cum all night long if you want, that is a thing you can do—

Quickly snapping out of your hypnotic downfall, your trembling hands snatch at his forearm once more, and Dameron, the fucker, drags his fingers slowly over your clit on the way out— so not accidental, not even close to it this time, but the sensation makes your hips stutter upwards and chase it nonetheless.

“Fuck you,” you groan at his audacity, your chest arching as you drop your head back, “I said don’t touch my—” but two wet fingers slipping past your lips and onto your tongue muffle the rest of your sentence. Your heart does half a somersault before slamming down early, the taste of your pussy filling your mouth as you automatically start sucking on them.

“None of that,” Dameron tells you softly, massaging his fingers along your tongue before pressing a sweet kiss under your ear. “Be nice. I’m being nice.”

You should bite him. Instead, you just close your eyes and mphh weakly around his fingers, your body sagging as you give into it and let him explore your mouth with them, your lower muscles cramping up in painful desperation even when he’s not anywhere near that part of your body right now. Your tongue even comes up to lick between them, swirl around them so soft compared to how hard you’re puffing through your nose.

Dameron slowly inches his fingers out, letting the tips of them rest against your bottom lip for just a brief moment, before his hand is moving again. Not down, but back and around, so he can open his mouth and taste you another way this time.

Shit, you feel like you’re dying. You need air. Your hands clench into fists and you use the back of one to wipe the sweat from the bridge of your nose while he takes his time sampling you like this. If anything, he looks just as blissed out as before, continuing to rub his crotch up against the solid metal between his legs and teasing you with it as much as he’s teasing himself.

“Maker, let me do this for real tonight, okay,” Dameron pants after dropping his fingers from his mouth, sounding like he’s fighting for his breath while you can’t find yours at all. Your eyes flick down to watch the way his hand disappears behind the chair to grab the controls and push his cock up against them even harder, how he drops his forehead to your neck like he just can’t fucking handle it anymore. “Fuck, I’ll shave, I’ll do anything you want, just let me—”

“Cum,” you gasp out before you can stop yourself, and there’s a moment after it where his hips suddenly stutter against the controls, and you both freeze.

Shit. Shitshitshit, did that actually work?

No, you very quickly realize, his body isn’t spasming like it would if he finally emptied his load after a month and a half. He’s just… holding there, his head buried in your neck, completely still.

You didn’t mean it like that. Well… fuck, you did, but you didn’t realize you’d be that reckless about it, that upfront about reissuing the challenge.

Dameron pulls back to look at you from the side this time, but it’s too cramped—he keeps his head turned facing you even as his eyes flick up to the transparisteel to take in the finer details of your features, the thin sheen of sweat on your forehead, and the slightly alarmed way you’re blinking back at him, worried you just shot your blaster at him in the midst of a mutual ceasefire and you fucking missed.

You see the understanding in his eyes instantly fall into place, and it’s not fucking good. Ohhhhhh no, it’s not good. Your chest starts rising and falling rapidly, suddenly registering the position you just put yourself in. Fuck, you didn’t think—you saw your opening, so clearly, you didn’t have time to think about the consequences.

“D-Dameron…” you try your best to placate.

“Don’t touch your clit?” He asks quietly, the raspiness of his voice ripping a hole through you while his hand suddenly shoves its way back down your body once more.

“Dameron,” you whimper, your heart stuttering in panic as you grasp weakly at his arm reaching between your spread thighs, “Dameron, this is—this is against the r-rules—”

“You keep saying that,” he comments, his fingers easily finding the opening in your jumpsuit no matter how hard you flex your thighs against bulky mechanics to try and close them. “How clearly do you remember the rules? What were the rules again?

You open your mouth to respond but his hand sliding under your panties and down just obliterates any chance you were going to attempt. No words, nothing comes out but a shaky whine as his finger sinks into your soaking heat, going right for the kill.

“Come on, baby, the rules,” Dameron reminds you when you never give him an answer. “Tell me. No fucking, no jerking off, and…?”

You suddenly struggle forwards in a last-ditch attempt at preventing the inevitable, hoping you can scoot up enough in your seat to escape his reach from behind. But fuck, your thighs have been shoved wide open for nearly eight hours—none of the muscles are working the way they should be anymore. There’s just enough room in front of you to get there and you probably would’ve been able to do it at the beginning of the shift, even with his hand between your legs like this, but you’re sluggish and your thighs pull sharp and urgent with the movement. The frantic maneuver enough to veer his fingers off course just slightly, moving one of your lips to the side at an angle, and you keep pushing against the pain no matter how useless it is.

“—No cumming,” he finishes for you, and his other hand is slithering up under your arm and groping one of your breasts through the jumpsuit before shoving you back tight up against your seat once more, totally helpless against it. “Probably have another fifteen minutes or so before our shift ends. Better hold it in, pretty baby, because this one is all you.”

“This—this isn’t fair, this is—” The second the slippery pad of his finger presses hard against your clit, you’re biting your lip to cut off a breathless whimper that slips out. “This is… is sab— sabotage— ”

“Oh, I know,” he moans next to your ear, mocking your high plea of distress with a fake, overly sympathetic whine. “Feels so fucking good though, doesn’t it?”

Fuck, it does. The build feels like an orgasm in itself, just working your way to it. You’re already so unbelievably close after just a few seconds of direct stimulation, an obvious consequence of originally agreeing to such a hardcore edging workout. You’re pouring sweat, so swollen and tight between your legs as you do everything you can to revolt against your body’s needs.

“Oh fuck, stop touching my clit—” you gasp raggedly, heart thundering in panic while your lower muscles start to immediately seize up, “oh—fuckfuckfuck— Poe, take your finger off m—”

Instead of doing it, his hand just slows down until the tip of his finger comes to a halt, maybe less than an inch over top of it. You still can’t catch your breath though, not when you feel yourself throbbing against absolutely nothing, the calloused pad holding perfectly still over the bundle of nerves. The swollen bud still arcs and flares at a steady frequency, building and building, and you choke out a wordless garble, absolutely fucking furious that this is what’s gonna make you cum.

“Don’t make me cum,” you switch up your sentence but not the terrified plead in your voice, the way it’s pitching up and out of control in the dead quiet of space. He doesn’t even acknowledge it. “Don’t make me cum, don—”

“Say it again,” he prompts instead, and lightning arcs up your spine.

“Poe,” you wheeze, the words coming from you without thought, your fingernails digging into his forearm even as your hips jerk up into his touch, “fuck, don’t make me cum, Poe—please don’t make me c—”

“But it’ll be so good,” he counters lowly, and your clit throbs in desperation at the richness of his voice when he speaks like this, saying things from deep in his chest. “It’ll be so fucking good when it happens. Stars, you’ll feel so much better, won’t you? Cum right now and I’ll give you as many as I can until we have to go home.”

“N-No,” you whine, feeling his teeth scrape at the crook of your neck. “No, I can’t—”

“Cum for me,” Dameron raises his voice, sharpening it into a direct order. “Right now. Come on— fucking make yourself lose.”

“But I—I—” you sob, starting to feel your body curl inwards, nearly about to succumb to the burning, the tightening, right on its last breath, “I-I don’t want to cum—”

“And I don’t fucking care,“ he hisses while your hands start flexing unintentionally, grasping helplessly at his immovable forearm where it disappears between your legs, the dark hair sliding under your fingertips as you claw desperately at it. “You’ll fucking cum when I tell you to cum and you’ll like it, you disrespectful, cock-deprived, bratty little—”

And then everything goes dark.

No, literally. The stars disappear.

The cockpit is suddenly shrouded in pitch blackness, and you’re almost certain it’s because you pass out, except then Dameron is all but ripping his hand out of your jumpsuit and cursing repeatedly in alarm. You crumple in on yourself, eyes clamped shut and not hearing anything, right at the peak of your ecstasy and ready to soar into the light completely unassisted, your muscles doing all the work on their own—

“—shit, they’re way too close—” you hear his voice shout, “—we have to turn the engines on—Gold-Ten, baby, turn the fucking eng—”

You’re almost there, you’re almost there, you’re gonna cum, you’re gonna fucking—

Your first name, roared out in startling, blinding panic.

You don’t often hear it. Just during roll calls mostly, but only if you’re flying with a different squadron and need a new temporary flight designation for the day. First names hurt. You can’t remember a time you’ve ever willingly told anybody yours.

Your head jerks up to look at his reflection but something else beyond the transparisteel takes immediate precedence. Your brain takes about two seconds to catch up before thundering terror slams through you and halts your previously inevitable orgasm in its fucking tracks. A runaway train about to launch off its tracks suddenly slamming directly into a megaton force-field of cold, hard fight or flight instincts.

A staggering fleet of First Order ships silently plunging out of hyperspace on all sides—your powered-down x-wing stationed right in the middle of the drop location.

***

Stay tuned for part two coming soon!!

#poe x reader #poe dameron #poe dameron x reader #SMUTTTT #reader insert #star wars #fanfic #the formatting on this one is downright horrendous but im so mad that i cant even fix it right now so thatll have to come later im sorry

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lady-divine-writes · 3 years

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The Hitchhiker - Chapter 1/4

Picking up a hitchhiker isn't exactly the dumbest thing Kurt has ever done, but it's not exactly the smartest either. When he comes across Blaine Anderson caught in a sudden downpour, he can't just leave him on the corner to drown... can he? (1756 words)

Read on AO3.

“Excuse me? Sir? Do you need a ride?”

Kurt flashes as confident and honest a smile as he can to the man standing on the side of the road. But the second those words leave his mouth, he hears his father’s voice in his head yelling: “Kurt Hummel! What the hell are you doing? Picking up a hitchhiker? Are you out of your mind!?”

And Kurt has to admit, the voice is right.

There is a fifty-fifty chance that this man, standing alone in the dark by the side of the road, is a violent serial killer. His outfit alone perpetuates the stereotype - indigo jeans, white t-shirt, leather jacket. He has an olive-green duffel slung over one shoulder and he's carrying a guitar case, for God’s sake! What are the odds that there’s actually a guitar in there!? If Kurt picks this man up, he has a greater chance of becoming a statistic than of that man being a musician! Kurt should drive away now without an inch of guilt, floor it without looking back.

And he probably would have deferred to his better judgment and stepped on the gas had it not been for a few things.

It's pitch dark out for a start. Only a handful of street lights line the curb, installed twenty or so feet apart, which creates long expanses of shadow in between. The road they're on is in the middle of nowhere, with trees towering on both sides of them. This doesn’t help Kurt’s argument any since it seems like just the place a killer would lie in wait for a potential victim. But, in that same vein, someone or something could be stalking him, waiting for Kurt to drive away so they can pounce on him from the trees. Then it would be up to the reach of this man's legs and his athletic ability to save him.

This leads directly to reason two: the man is a klutz. In the five minutes Kurt has been stuck at this red light, he’s seen him smack himself in the face with his own bag, drop his sunglasses (pink rimmed Wayfarers, no less), catch them, then fumble them again, and step in the same puddle twice. If this man is a serial killer, he may not be the most competent one on the planet.

Three, just as Kurt’s light turned green, it started raining. And not the light drizzle he has come to expect during his infrequent forays to San Diego, but an honest-to-God downpour. Kurt saw the man turn his face up to the sky, his shoulders slumped, wholly defeated by this new development. He put the butt of his guitar case on the toes of his shoes to keep it out of the mud, then attempted to wrap his jacket around it.

And Kurt’s heart melted.

Kurt is a musician himself. Singer more than musician but he has friends who play the guitar. His stepbrother Finn owns a Fender that he sold plasma to afford. Puck's Gibson is the only thing he has never hawked when he needed money. And Sam, in this man's position, would take off every stitch of clothing to protect his Blueridge if it came down to it. Kurt can imagine this man’s whole life wrapped up in that case, which he is now convinced does hold a guitar.

Kurt isn't a gun enthusiast by any means, but he thinks a semi-automatic should be able to withstand some weather. He may want to Google that one later on… provided he’s still alive.

And about that guitar case: it isn’t a plain, generic, black guitar case. The thing is covered in travel stickers and bling. It has a personality all its own. An easily identifiable personality. If this man is a killer, Kurt is pretty certain every human on the West Coast would know about it. He’d be nicknamed the Kitsch Case Killer or something along those lines. That case sticks out like a sore thumb. There’s no way a man carrying a guitar case decorated like an old-school Lisa Frank binder is getting away with swiping a pack of gum, not to mention murder.

To a lesser degree (Kurt tells himself so he doesn't have to admit how idiotic this idea is), this is the most a-dork-able man Kurt has ever seen. He looks more like a puppy than a predator (weak reasoning, he knows). But Kurt has instincts about people that are usually on the money. He has to give himself credit for making it this far in life. Kurt is tougher than he looks. He has taken his fair share of licks, and he’s still ticking.

Plus, he has bear repellent in the pocket of his jacket the size of a can of Aquanet. He feels he has his bases covered.

The man walks slowly towards Kurt's car, the curls piled atop his head hanging heavily down his cheeks the wetter he gets.

No, Kurt can’t leave him out here.

“Um. Thanks. Thanks a lot,” the man says, cautiously eyeing Kurt up and down as if he may be asking himself Kurt’s same string of questions in his head. “But I… ” The fact that he isn’t jumping at Kurt’s offer, that he’s glancing anxiously down the road, mulling his options even as rain pours down his back, puts Kurt at ease. The man looks like he’s trying to gauge if Kurt might have a weapon hiding somewhere on his person, contemplating if he’ll come out of this alive if he accepts this ride.

Ironic, but that proves that there are two sides to every situation.

The man looks about to step away and decline until a fork of lightning turns night into day for five seconds, a boom so loud following it shakes Kurt’s rental car.

“Sure. Okay. Why not?” He pulls open the rear door in a rush but still wary as he puts his belongings into the backseat and joins Kurt in the front. “Thank you so much. I didn’t expect it to rain this hard, or I might have stayed in my hotel room one more night.” He runs a hand through his hair, cringing at the water that sprays the headrest.

“Not a problem.” Kurt reaches behind the seat and grabs the towel he’d fished out of his luggage earlier when he’d done the same thing. But the rain was only a sprinkle then – angel spittle, his mom would have called it. “I couldn’t just drive by and leave you out here to drown.”

The man chuckles. It, much like the rest of him, is too cute for words. “My name’s Blaine.”

“Kurt.” Kurt extends a hand for Blaine to shake. Blaine looks at it, hesitates a second before taking it, still questioning Kurt and his intentions, Kurt assumes. Despite being stuck in the rain, Blaine’s hand is warm, comforting in a way Kurt speculates a serial killer’s hands would not. “Well, Blaine, where you headed?”

“Oh, uh… I’m trying to make my way to L.A. But you can drop me off anywhere between here and there.”

“Ooo. Actor? Producer?”

“Unemployed schlub, unfortunately. Currently riding my brother’s couch. He’s the actor. I’m the… the failure.”

Kurt pulls onto the road again and heads for the highway. “That’s a really unkind thing to say about yourself.”

“It’s what… well, it’s what my father would say.” He wrings his hands uncomfortably. “He’d also say I’m a disappointment, a waste of a Harvard education, a bum… ” He shivers. Kurt raises the temperature of the heater. Blaine glances at Kurt in embarrassment, and Kurt gets the hint that it’s not the cold that has him trembling.

“I know it’s not my place to say, but I’d stop listening to your father if I were you. It doesn’t seem like he has anything worthwhile to say.”

“How can you say that? You don’t even know me,” Blaine says under his breath, with an edge like a growl, the kind wild animals give when you stumble into their territory unaware. It sets the hairs on the back of Kurt’s neck on end, and he starts second-guessing this decision.

Relax, Kurt. The man’s just beat down. Exhausted. You understand what that’s like.

Blaine sighs, sinking into the passenger seat and leaning his head against the window. "I'm sorry. I know you're trying to be nice. It's been a long day."

“I understand. And I may not know you, but I know fathers," Kurt continues. "A father’s job is to be supportive of their children, no matter what they do in life. Succeed or fail, win or lose, they should always be in your corner. And if he’s not, screw him! Surround yourself with people who want to lift you up, not tear you down.”

Blaine winds his arms around his torso, hugging himself tight. “I---is that the way your father treats you?”

“Yup,” Kurt answers with a subconscious smile at the mention of his dad. “He supports me in everything, even the stuff he doesn’t entirely agree with. And when things don’t work out, he’s the first person there, helping me to my feet and encouraging me to try again.”

“Sounds like a great guy. You’re lucky.”

“He is," Kurt says proudly. "And I am.”

Blaine fixes his gaze to the road ahead as Kurt merges onto the highway. He chews the inside of his cheek, stares too hard at the rain-slick asphalt, not shifting focus. It's as if he can't bring himself to look at Kurt when he asks, “So, you think you’re a good judge of character?”

Kurt nods. “Yes, I do."

"How do you know?"

"Experience. I have a decent track record.”

"Surround yourself with a lot of questionable people, do you?"

"I guess you can say that," Kurt agrees with a laugh, thinking of the people who have come into his life that he has adopted as his own: Rachel, Dave, Santana, Puck, all of them rivals or bullies. Or both. But now, a cherished part of his found family.

People he hopes will miss him if SDPD finds him by the side of the road tomorrow with his throat cut.

Stop it, Kurt! Relax! You're in no danger! Everything is going to be fine!

Blaine shrugs, examining his wet hands as if he’s reading something etched on his skin. “Someday you’ll be wrong.”

“Probably." Kurt meets Blaine's eyes in the reflection of the windshield, flashes his confident smile again. "But I don’t think that day is today.”

#klaine #klaine fic #klaine fanfiction

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loove-persevering · 4 years

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One Day (Spencer Reid x reader!)

Description: A Spencer Reid request :) How about reader is an agent with the bau and is best friends with Reid but when he comes up to the team with the case about Maeve reader gets super upset and doesn’t wanna help because she hurt that Reid kept it from her and when Garcia comes to ask her what’s wrong you confess that you’ve loved Reid since you got on the team.

Spencer Reid x Fem!reader!

Warnings: Death, Violence, Guns. If you’ve watched the episode you know what to expect!

Spencer Reid had this approachability aspect about him, he rarely turned anyone down for a conversation and was always up for spitting out the most odd facts. He had is moments of what seemed like doubt in his mind, as if he wasn’t good enough but it took someone to remind him how special he really was to bring back the normal Spencer.

As you sat in the bullpin that morning talking with Morgan your legs resting against his desk and you sipped on some coffee awaiting news of a new case you saw Spencer enter. ‘’Hey Spenc!’’ You call out to him like you every morning, but he didn’t stop he walked straight into Hotch’s office standing in the doorway for a short moment and you could see through the blinds Hotch address him. You glance over to Morgan who was looked just as concerned as you felt, ‘’Did he say anything to you?’’ You ask but Morgan shakes his head glancing back to the doorway of Hotch’s office. Spencer walks in a little further and the door shuts completely allowing them only more privacy.

‘‘Must be serious,’‘ Morgan points out to you.

The past couple of months you could tell were hard on Spencer, he finally reached out to the geneticist about his headaches, but he also just seemed more on edge. You two lived in the same building and would typically carpool to work together in the mornings but within the past couple of months that changed. You would go to Spencers’ door in the morning just before heading to work but there was no answer, when heading out to your own car his was already gone. By the time you arrived to the office Spencer would still show up after you, you had no idea what or where he was going.

‘’Must be,’’ You reply back taking another sip of your coffee.

An hour later Hotch called you all together, you sat at Morgans desk still surrounded by the rest of the team. Spencer stood in the back a nervous look spread across his face, you exchange glances with the rest of the team and notice they all seemed on edge as to what this was about as well. When Hotch finally begin to explain what was happening it all made sense, and the realization hit you like a ton of bricks. The man you were blindly in love with was himself blindly in love with someone else.

‘‘Reid is just as much involved in the victimology as Maeve, we consider him apart of the case as well.’‘ Hotch points out, he gestures to Spencer who steps forward slightly.

His head was slightly bowed forward, his shoulders curved forward as if he was drained, ‘’He thinks he’ll get away with this, and he might.’’ He finally says. He takes a breath for a moment, his head seemed a mess; This was not the same Spencer who seemed to always have words this was a broken man in front of you. ‘’I have a wealth of knowledge I should be applying to this case. Behavioral patters of violent stalkers, tactical recovery strategies, victim survival odds. But right now I can’t focus on anything,’’ He painfully admits. ‘’Right now I can’t focus on anything for more than four seconds at a time, which makes me the dumbest person in the room.’’

You watch him as he stood so broken in front of you, so fragile and unsure of what was to come. And for just a second you hated yourself, because you felt a wave of anger, jealousy and more come over you while he was speaking. Spencer was your best friend he knew all the small details of your life and up until and hour ago you could say the same.

‘‘So please help me.’‘ You glance up at him at those words, the pleading cry not only evident in his word choice but in his voice ‘‘Hel-Help me find her.’‘ He stutters.

Along with the rest of the team you stay silent all in shock by what was just admitted, this team was a family and you could only imagine what the rest were feeling at this sudden what seemed like a secret that had just come to light. ‘’We don’t know if we have a case.’’ Hotch mentions. ‘’So we’ll be working on personal time,’’ You all nod your head simultaneously understanding what he was saying. ‘’Does anybody want to leave?’’ Hotch ask, you felt a pair of eyes on you at that moment and you glance up meeting Penelope’s gaze. You quickly look back to Spencer not saying a word. ‘’Good, lets get to work.’’ He says.

After going over some of the more basic information with the rest of the team you all head your separate ways to investigate more thoroughly, JJ and Morgan headed to Maeve’s apartment. Drake and Rossi headed to her work and Reid and Hotch to interview her parents, you went with Garcia to do some more background information on Maeve’s past records to get as much information as you could. You felt your phone buzz from your pocket pulling it out reading over the text from Hotch.

Maeve had a Fiance, Bobby. See what you can find.

You read over the text feeling a mix of anger toward the new information, did Spencer know this? ‘’See if we can find anyone under the name Bobby, but expand it to Robert, Bobby is most likely just what people call him.’’ You tell Garcia and you immediately hear her fingers tapping against the keyboard.

‘‘I can’t believe this,’‘ She tells you, ‘‘Poor Reid.’‘ She mentions.

‘‘Yeah,’‘ You sigh, ‘‘Poor Reid.”

Her typing slows down and you see her glance at you from the side, ‘’You know I may not be a profiler but I can tell something’s off with you.’’ She mentions taking her hands away from the keyboard. ‘’What’s wrong angel?’’ She asks you.

You sigh realizing you were caught, knowing how pushy Garcia could be when she needed to be it was going to come out eventually. ‘’Okay, you know I only joined the team like a year and a half ago..’’ You start off. ‘’Of course I love everyone on this team and consider you all family, but Spencer is different.’’ You mention to her noticing her eyebrows shoot up, ‘’Spencer and me we just hit it off immediately, I feel calm when he’s around, I feel as if I can be myself around him and he never judges me. We live next to each other, we carpool, Spencer is like a brother to me just like Morgan is and how you and JJ are like my sisters.’’ You mention and her face looks a little more confused at this point, ‘’But Spenc..He’s just... He’s not like a brother because-’’ You start to say but the realization hits Garcias face and she finishes for you.

‘‘Because you’re in love with him..’‘ She says. Your lips tighten into a thin smile.

‘‘Bingo,’‘ You tell her. ‘‘He doesn’t know so I have no right to be anything about this whole situation. But he didn’t tell me?’‘ You say your voice laced with hurt. If anything Spencer not telling you hurt the most.

‘‘Do you think he’s ever picked up on the fact that you- you know love him?’‘ She asks.

‘‘I don’t think so.. I don’t exactly make it obvious.’‘ You point out. ‘‘Even if I did Spenc isn’t the best at picking up on things like that,’‘ You say letting out a nervous laugh. ‘‘Is it obvious?’‘ You ask her.

‘‘No, I would’ve never guess if I hadn’t seen your face today when he was talking.’‘ She tells you and you felt an instant relief, the last thing you needed or wanted was the rest of the team knowing that you were indubitably in love with Spencer. ‘’I’m sorry,’’ She says simply.

You sigh, ‘’If Maeve is what makes him happy-’’ You pause, ‘’Then I’m gonna do everything I possibly can to help find her.’’ You tell her. ‘’I can’t let my emotions get in the way.’’ You say more to yourself rather than Garcia.

‘‘Y/N-’‘ She begins to say but is cut off by Hotch entering the room.

‘‘Anything on Bobby?’‘ He asks glancing between the two of you. ‘‘Everything alright?’‘ He asks sounding skeptical.

‘‘Fine sir,’‘ You say back to him. Garcia quickly gets back to typing pulling up any Roberts in contact with Maeve.

‘‘I have a hit on a Robert Putnam, I’m sending his address to everyone now,’‘ Garcia says.

‘‘Come on Y/N, we could use you there.’‘ Hotch says. Garcia gives you a sympathetic smile as you stand up from the chair and following Hotch.

A short ride later you had arrived at Bobby Putnams house, a short dark haired woman answered the door her face showed a look of confusion but not shock. ‘’Who?’’ She asks simply.

‘‘We’re looking for Robert Putnam.’‘ Rossi says lowering his ID. ‘’Do you know where he is?’’

‘‘He’s in the back,’‘ She says widening the door slightly. Morgan enters in first followed by the rest of you and you glance around the apartment as soon as you entered.

‘‘And who are you?’‘ You hear Hotch ask.

‘‘I’m Diane, his girlfriend.’‘ She says.

You heard the sound of footsteps come from another area of the apartment and you glance up seeing Robert Putnam finally make his appearance, ‘’Hey sweetheart, who is it?’’ He ask.

‘‘Robert Putnam we’d like to-’‘ Spencer begins to say but stops mid sentence when he finally gets to look at the man. You look back to Robert noticing that he also had a look of familiarity on his face as he saw Spencer.

Hotch turns to Spencer, ‘’Out.’’ He says simply. ‘’Out,’’ He says now moving Spencer as he stood still looking straight at Robert. You glance at Morgan and you hear Spencers voice just as the door slams shut.

‘‘What’s going on?’‘ You hear the girl Diane ask.

‘‘We just want to ask a few questions,’‘ You say to her but look at Robert.

‘‘About?’‘ Robert ask.

‘‘Maeve Donovan.’‘ You tell him, you watch Diana turn to him but you were unable to see her face.

Hotch enters in the room again after only a few moments outside, he didn’t seem to happy. ‘’Agent Rossi and I would just like to ask a few questions,’’ You hear Hotch say as he comes to your side. You realize now that it was him subtly telling you to leave the room. You didn’t need to be told twice so you head out into the hallway noticing Spencer.

‘‘Hey,’‘ You say to him your voice low and careful unsure of what exactly to say to him. ‘’What was that in there?’’ You ask him.

‘‘I was suppose to meet Maeve at a restaurant a few weeks ago, when I got there I caught him looking at me and I thought he was her stalker.’‘ He tells you.

‘‘Spenc..’‘ You sigh. ‘‘You should’ve told us, if he is the unsub-’‘ You begin to point out but he cuts you off.

‘‘I know I’m a material witness,’‘ He says finishing your sentence.

‘‘I’m sorry Spenc I didn’t mean to-’‘ You begin but he cuts you off again.

‘‘It’s fine,’‘ He says but his voice sounds anything but fine. ‘’I need some air,’‘ He says shaking his head, he walks past you quickly brushing your shoulder and you stand there unsure of what to say, you watch him walk down the rest of the hallway and then into the stairwell.

You shove your hand in your jacket pockets rolling your head back, Morgan walks out the door noticing your behavior. ‘’You alright?’’ He asks.

‘‘You ever feel like no matter what you say you’re only making things worse?’‘ You ask him.

He smiles at you graciously, ‘’You’re helping, just give him some time.’’ He tells you. ‘’I’m gonna go check on him,’’ He says taking his hand and giving your arm a comforting squeeze.

_____________

Me for Her

That is what Reid said, and now he was delivering his promise. You stood outside watching the door close and he walk in unarmed with no vest, all you could do was wait but for what you were unsure.

‘‘We can’t go in?’’ You ask Hotch feeling your body drenched with adrenaline at the thought of Spencer inside. ‘‘What if he needs us?’‘ You ask.

‘‘If we go in she could kill them both, we can’t risk it unless we hear something.’‘ Hotch tells you.

‘‘Like what a bullet going into Spencers chest?’‘ You say carelessly earning a look from not only Hotch but the rest of the team as well, ‘‘I’m sorry.’‘ You say shaking your head.

So you waited and waited, it felt like hours sitting at the door waiting for something to happen.

And then it did.

A shot, before you knew it you were rushing in the door your weapon raised. Spencer was on the floor muttering, ‘’Stay back! Stay back, Stay back!’’ He kept repeating pushing himself up from the floor. You move to the far right side of him your weapon raised. Diane had a gun held to Maeves head.

‘‘Diane there is still a way out of this,’‘ Spencer tells her. ‘’I offered you a deal and you can still take it, me for her. Let me take her place.’’ He says, you never take your hand off the trigger just hovering it, you stare straight at Diane knowing this was not going to end well.

‘‘You would do that? You would kill yourself for her?’‘ Diane asks tears running down her face.

‘‘Yes,’‘ Spencer answers without a second of hesitation.

Diane doesn’t say anything but you hear Maeve speak just above a whisper, ‘’Thomas Merton,’’ She says,

‘‘Who’s Thomas Merton?’‘ Diane asked her voice uneven and broken.

‘‘He knows,’‘ Maeve says speaking up. ‘‘He knows,’‘ She says her entire demeanor calming down as Diane keeps questioning who Thomas Merton is. ‘‘He’s the one thing you can never take from us. ‘‘ She says staring straight at Spencer.

Diane thinks for just a split second before taking the gun right up to her temple, ‘’No.’’ She says.

Just as the gunshot goes off you hear Spencer cry out, ‘’Wait!’’ He yells. But it was too late, the gun goes off and its defining. You stare at the scene before you unsure of any thoughts in your head as you lower your weapon. You felt the tears streaming down your face as you glance over Spencer falling to his knees. You close your eyes tightly trying to hold them back, but it didn’t help. The only sound in the room besides the ringing in your ear was the soft sobs coming from Spencer.

____________

A week later you were leaving for a new case, you had just gotten the call about the conference. You heard two familiar voices outside and you shake your head knowing the piles upon piles of things Garcia had already left was only being added to. You step out of your apartment both of them glancing over you a look of sorrow on their face. ‘’He’s not gonna answer,’’ You tell them.

Garcia looks at you her own eyes looking tearful, ‘’Nothing?’’ She asks only at a whisper.

‘‘How many of those baskets are yours?’‘ You ask her skeptically, ‘’Are they all yours?’’ You ask.

‘‘Maybe,’‘ She says sheepishly.

‘‘Whats in that one?’‘ JJ ask. You turn around while Garcia informs JJ on the importance of nuts and seeds on metabolism and lock your door. When you finally make your way over to them JJ speaks up, ‘’Spenc we just wanna know if your alright in there,’’ She says but gets no reply.

‘‘Knock twice if your conscious,’‘ Garcia calls out earning two knocks. ‘‘Is he ever gonna be okay?’‘ She asks to no one in particular.

‘‘One day,’‘ You say loud enough for him to hear. ‘’Come on we should get to work,’’ JJ says walking toward the steps, you wait a few seconds letting them ahead before you reach into your bag and grabbing out a copy of A Long Way Down by Nick Hornby.

‘‘One day, Spenc.’‘ You say just loud enough for him to hear. ‘‘Doesn’t have to be today.’‘ You say.

You begin walking toward the stairs and you see Penelope waiting for you at the bottom of them a smile on her face directed toward you. You take yourself down the stairs step by step finally making it to her, ‘’Come on,’’ You say offering her a smile.

_____________

Part 2?

I’m willing to write a part two to this maybe a time skip ahead? Tell me what you think! If you want to see a part two or want me to tag you in it please comment or message me!

Thanks for reading as always it means the world!<3

I didn't proof read sorry!

#spencer reid #spencer reid imagine #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid fluff #spencer reid angst #spencer reid blurb #criminal minds #agent hotchner #agent morgan #derek morgan #Jennifer Jereau #Penelope Garcia #david rossi #jason gideon #emily prentiss #criminal minds imagine #criminal minds fanfiction #matthew gray gubler

525 notes · View notes

xanican-exile · 3 years

Note

Interview the Muse

Do all of them

Long post under the cut

- What is your Full name? Include any maiden names, aliases, or nicknames.

”Venix Savreux. My last name is Mornese, I guess that must be where my mother was from. Its a country a bit to the east of Xanica.” - When is your birthday? Do you know where you were born and at what time?

”I’m actually not sure. I know that my birthday is a few weeks before the first snowfalls, but rangers didn’t really have calendars out in the Wyrmswood.”

- What is your star sign? Do you know your Chinese Zodiac too?

“I don’t know what that means.”

- What is your earliest memory that you can remember?

“My... Mother wiping a bloody scrape on my cheek. I’m really young, can’t be more than 4 or 5? It hurts a lot but I won’t let myself cry. Babies cry, but I won’t. She’s chiding me for getting in a fight, especially with two boys that are bigger than me. But I think a little part of her is proud. They were making fun of me for being a whore’s son.”

- Where was your childhood home? Was it more urban or rural?

“I was born in docks quarter of Esklay, one of the big port cities in Xanica.”

- How was your childhood in general? Did your parents treat you well? Did you have a lot of friends?

“My mother and I didn’t have much. She was a whore, no idea who my dad was, and I wasn’t exactly around there long enough to make friends.”

“Things got a lot better when I joined the rangers though.”

- How was/is school? What is your favorite and least favorite subjects? What were your grades on average?

“I didn’t go to school, but I was trained to be a ranger from the time I was... 8, 9? Something like that. I know I was ranked pretty high among the cadets, I was the top in sword skills, but everyone else that would join my pack was better than me in at least one thing.”

- Did you have a best friend growing up? What was their name? Are you still in touch?

“No, no I’m not in contact with any of them. Vex, Rand, Mako, Velite, Ilia. They.. They aren’t around anymore.”

- Were you in any cliques?

“We were encouraged to become close to small groups, they would become our pack once our training was finished.”

- Best childhood memory you can recall?

“The day my pack became full rangers.”

- Worst childhood memory you can recall?

“... My mom dying.”

- Name an event in your childhood that has shaped you into the person you are today

“Probably the day I was found by the rangers. After my mom died I ran from home, didn’t know where I was going, too young to think beyond getting away. I think it was a few weeks of being on my own, barely surviving on scraps. I guess I was going north, because I eventually ended up in the Wyrmswood. I don’t know how, it’s hundreds of miles from where Esklay is on the coast, must have ended up in one of its southernmost reaches. I.. I ended up passing out around a ranger campfire, barely noticing the people watching me. A lot of lost kids, orphans, bastards, and street rats end up as rangers, but I’ve never heard of any others stumbling on them like I did. Its probably happened, Xanica is pretty big, but I’ve never heard of it. Anyway, when I woke up they fed me, tended to my wounds, and teased my story out of me. I remember one of them asking me if I would like to be strong enough to never let something like this happen again. I took his offer without a second thought.”

- What is the dumbest thing you have ever done to impress someone? Were they impressed or was it all for naught?

“I guess there was a couple times when I was still training that I tried to go off on my own, hunt things I wasn’t ready to to impress our masters. Only took a couple beatings before I stopped doing that though.”

- Did you ever have any sweethearts or lovers? Do you have a boy/girlfriend?

“Not really. I’m on the road a lot, going from place to place. I don’t get time to get close to a girl like that. There is this one bard I seem to keep running into though..”

- Are you a virgin?

“No.”

- Do you ever plan on getting married in your life? Do you want kids?

“I’ve.. never really thought about that. I guess no. Having a family or getting married doesn’t sound like something I can do.”

- Would you rather have your own kids or adopt? How many kids would you want?

“I don’t really have a preference, its hard for my to imagine doing either.”

- Do you think you'd be a protective parent or a relaxed parent?

“I don’t think I’d be a very good one.”

- How would you prefer to pass away? Surrounded by loved ones and at peace, or while doing something heroic?

“Definitely fighting. I want whatever takes me down to remember how much of a struggle it was to kill me.”“

- Generally, how healthy are you? Do you get sick or injured easily or are you fit?

“I do everything I can to stay in peak physical condition. Doing otherwise would mean I end up dead in my line of work.”

- Have you ever been badly injured before?

“Several times. You don’t fight monsters for over a decade without collecting a fair share of scars.”

- What is the worst injury you have ever gotten? What was it and how did it happen? Were you ever close to death?

“This one right here. Those three slashes across my chest? Those are from a Wyrmling. Its like a wyvern but flightless and with four legs. I had to hunt one on my own once. Those claws destroyed my armor, but I would have been turned to paste if I hadn’t been wearing it.”

- How many times have you been to the hospital/doctor's?

“I haven’t been to many hospitals. Those are for sick people, but I’ve had to visit a lot of surgeons and healers over the years to get stitched up or have other wounds treated. I’ve never tried counting how many times I’ve been to those.”

- Have you ever had a concussion or brain injury? Have you ever had amnesia?

“I’ve had more than a few concussions, but I don’t think I’ve ever had amnesia or a serious brain injury, thankfully.”

“...I should really get a helmet.”

- What was the worst illness you ever contacted? Do you know what it was? How long were you sick?

“I don’t know what it was, but there was one time that I was stuck in bed for over a week as a child. It happens sometimes to cadets, they weren’t sure I’d survive, but I proved stronger than they expected.”

- Ever had any extended hospital stays? What for?

“Didn’t I already answer this?”

- Have you ever had to give yourself or someone else emergency first aid? What happened?

“Multiple times. Sometimes they lived, sometimes they didn’t.”

- Are you employed? Where do you work and who do you work for? What do you do?

“I guess you could call me a mercenary. Since leaving Xanica I’ve made my living going from place to place dealing with bandits, poachers, and monsters. Once or twice I’ve been hired to stay on a noble’s estates for a season to keep it guarded. Those jobs are boring, but pay best.”

- Are you happy with your current job?

“...No. Most of it is just busywork. I do it because its what I know, because its closest to what I used to do. But I wish I had something more meaningful to use my skills for.”

- Did you have any previous jobs? What were they and what did you do?

“I was raised to be a ranger. Its what I did until leaving Xanica about 2 years ago.”

- Most dangerous thing you have ever done?

“That’s hard to say. I’ve been involved in a lot of dangerous things. The expedition into the Divide might be at the top though.”

- Do you consider yourself a more active person or a more relaxed person?

“Definitely more active. I’m not good at sitting around doing nothing for than a day or so.”

- What is your dream come true? How about your worst nightmare?

“My... My nightmare already happened. My dream would be for my pack to be alive.”

- What is the biggest and most important goal you have set for yourself?

“To never let what happened to the rangers happen to someone else.”

- How persistent would you say you are? How much does it take to get you to give up on a task?

“I’d like to say I don’t give up easy, but I guess I’ve already given in on the stuff that matters.”

- Would you surrender yourself to your enemies or fight to the very end?

“Fight. I won’t run again, not while there is something I can still do.”

- When do you usually do your shopping? What is currently on your shopping list?

“Usually between jobs, or right after I finish one. Right now I need to get myself some new rope, hardtack, my cloak stitched, and a pan for cooking.”

- Top three things on your wishlist?

“Wyvernhide leather cuirass, a pair of those new glyph inscribed boots that resist water, and a warm chocolate mint drink.”

- Currently, what is something you want but do not need?

“A warm chocolate mint drink “

- Do you like shopping? What is your favorite thing to shop for?

“I don’t know if I like shopping, but I don’t dislike it either, its just something I have to do.”

- What is the most expensive thing you have purchased? Was it worth it?

“My mail shirt. Absolutely worth it, saved my life more than once.”

- What would you do if you were suddenly given one billion dollars out of the blue?

“I’m not sure. I don’t really buy a lot of luxuries. Maybe I would purchase a keep or something? A place to winter at when the roads get snowed over.”

- What would you describe your style of clothing as?

“Practical.”

- Do you have any hobbies? Name all of them if you can.

“I can make simple woodcarvings, I play the flute, and I guess I’ve dabbled in falconry.”

- Do you like and appreciate art? What is your favorite piece of artwork?

- Do you like music? What is your favorite style of music?

- Have you ever seen any musicals? What is your favorite?

- What are your top three favorite animals? What would you say your "Patronus" or "Spirit Animal" is?

“Eagles, Hawks, and Bears. Most rangers would probably say our spirits are most like wolves.”

- What are your top three favorite colors?

“Red, white, and I guess yellow or amber, though that last one is really just with eye colors.”

- What is your favorite season? Do you prefer hotter or colder weather? Do you like snow at all?

“Spring. I can’t stand the snow, it makes it easier to be tracked, and the work always slows down during the winter.”

- What kind of flavors do you prefer: Sweet, Sour, Bitter, Spicy, Dry, or Umami (savory meat taste)?

“Savory is my favorite. I’m not really a fan of sweets aside from fruits. I like mint a lot as well, but I don’t know what that falls under.”

- Can you cook at all?

“Yes. Everyone in the pack took turns cooking. So we all got pretty good at it.”

- What is your favorite dish? Can you prepare it? Do you have the recipe handy?

“I don’t know if I have a favorite, but I do like going to new places and trying their foods.”

- What is your favorite fruit and vegetable?

“Strawberries and onions.”

- What is your favorite dessert? What is your favorite type of candy/treat?

“Choclate is just about the only sweet I enjoy.”

- What is the best thing you have ever had the opportunity to eat? What is the worst?

“Xanican haggis is always a treat.”

- Do you like to drink tea or coffee? Any favorite flavors?

“Both are good, as I said earlier I like mind a lot.”

- Describe your sense of humor.

“Sarcasm.”

- What is one thing you are justly proud of?

“My skill with a sword. I’ve always been good with a blade. The best of all the rangers in my age group.”

- Do you have any religious beliefs? If not, have you ever been to a church service?

“Everyone pays respect to the gods, but I wouldn’t say I’m really religious. I’ve had to go to a few services when going to priest or nun healers. They usually make that their payment.”

- What would you say is the worst thing someone has done to you? What is the meanest thing someone has ever said to you?

"Tricking my pack into helping stoke the fires of a civil war and then getting them all killed. Anything that’s been said to me doesn’t even come close to that.”

- What is the worst thing you have done to someone? What is the meanest thing you have said to anyone?

“I’m not really sure. I tend not to talk much unless I have something really worth saying, insults are usually not worth the effort.” “Worst thing I’ve ever done to someone is definitely kill them. I’ve had to kill quite a few people.”

- Share the latest entry in your diary/journal.

“I can’t write.”

- What is the most precious thing you own? Is it valuable at all?

“Garmr. My sword. Over a thousand years old. I’ve heard some people say that its worth a kingdom, I wouldn’t know, and I don’t plan to sell it.”

- Talk about someone you know. It can be someone you either like or dislike.

“Rubio. He’s just a kid, got a lot of heart but a chip on his shoulder too. He’s had a rough start to his life, and I’m hoping to teach him a few things so he can make the rest of it better.”

#divinefellblood

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muwur · 4 years

Note

hii :-) ur writing is so cute!!! could i uhh get some super fluffy mayb a lil suggestive one shot or scenario about being quarantined with oikawa post-time skip? 🥺

quarantining

✩ oneshot ✩ for oikawa

❧ gn reader

✎ 2.2k words

a/n: gotchu! hopefully i didnt take too long ;(( i have trouble getting inspo, it usually will hit me all at once or neverr. hope you like cx

wishin i got some quality times during quarantine, y/n out here rlly living their best n domestic life smh

also, i hope this was fluffy! ik i made it a bit silly and playful so i hope thats ok! lmk if you would like me to attempt again and id be more than happy too cx

requests: open!

So far, it’s been a month into quarantine. Despite having lived with Oikawa’s needy self for the past two years, being stuck at home with him all the time definitely tested your patience, especially when he was bored, seeking attention, and missing volleyball.

“Oikawaaa, hold on, I’m almost done with work. Maybe talk to Iwa for a bit until I’m free,” you suggested as you typed away at your computer, not even sparing your whiny boyfriend a glance as he lamented about his boredom.

“Iwa’s already asleeeppp and there’s nothing to do hereeeee,” he complained. He pulled up a seat next to you and poked your cheek repeatedly. “Having a long distance best friend and an s/o who doesn’t care about you is harddd, why does life give me such a hard time?” he despaired, referring to his best friend who lived in another country, and you, his partner, who was trying to do work so you both could be financially stable in the middle of this pandemic.

You rolled your eyes in response and turned in your chair to face him, grabbing his cheeks in your hands and giving them a squeeze. “Boohoo, I think someone’s gotten a little too used to having fan girls entertain him all the time.” You gave his pouty lips a quick peck. “I’ll be done in 20 minutes, max. Go watch some tik toks or something.”

After you returned to doing your work, Oikawa settled for wrapping his arms from behind you and resting his chin on top of your head. He hummed to himself some trendy tik tok song he discovered the other day as he played with your hair, and you found the vibrations from his throat and the soft tugs on your scalp strangely soothing.

As much as you rolled your eyes or scoffed at his antics, you loved when he would go out of his way to catch your eye. Oikawa knew what would get to you. He could make you smile, laugh, piss you off, or comfort you in an instant.

You felt your heart soften at a memory from not too long ago.

“Hmmmmm,” Oikawa thought aloud, stroking his chin with his thumb. “Put that one... here.”

“Yes ma’am,” you responded, placing a pillow in the gap between two other pillows. Then, you both took opposite ends of the same blanket, draping it over the array of pillows you arranged on the living room floor and thus completing your pillow fort.

He eagerly slid inside the castle and patted the spot next to him. “y/nnnn, hurry up and lay here with me so we can watch our favorite show while we cuddle and I feed you~”

You couldn’t help but smile as you obliged, easing into the spot next to him. You both lay on your stomachs, supported by a single, long pillow stuffed underneath your chests. Oikawa hooked an arm around your waist, closing the gap between you two. His free hand reached for a bag of your favorite snacks. He opened it, picked up a piece, then held it up to your face.

Just as you were about to take a bite, your face contorted into an expression of shock and betrayal when you saw him quickly seize the piece into his own mouth. Looking at your gaping face, he raised a mischievous eyebrow. “Oh, you thought that was for you?”

And that was how he ended up face down and star fished on the floor, with you sitting cross-legged on his back and triumphantly munching on your snacks, surrounded by a chaotic mass of fluffy pillows and blankets.

“I win,” you giggle through your bites.

“No fair! That pillow to my face came outta nowhere!”

15 minutes passed by when you finally finished, closed your laptop, and hugged his arms. “Alright, I’m all yours now, what’s up?” you tilted your head back and glanced upwards to meet his gaze, the corners of your lips turning upwards in a small smile.

“Wellllll, I was thinking of sharing a nice dinner together, maybe a fragrant bath...” he trailed off, wiggling his eyebrows suggestively.

“Pffft,” you spit out, shoving his face away playfully and getting up to your feet. “Only if your highness will make me dinner. I’m hungry after a long day’s work of breadwinning. What have you even been doing all day?”

“Uhhh...” Oikawa pursed his lip and looked at the ceiling in faux thought. Then his eyes landed back on you sheepishly, “Nothing.”

Laughing, you gave his cheek a soft pat and took his hand, leading him to the kitchen. “Of course, I expected nothing less of you, Lazykawa,” you jibed, well aware you were using one of Iwa’s classic nicknames on him.

“Fine, fine, I’ll get something ready for us. You just sit your pretty self at the table and watch.”

"I want a close up view, though,” you remarked, snaking your arms under his own from behind as he was investigating the fridge’s contents.

“Works for me,” he winked.

You clung onto him and followed his steps around the kitchen, taking in his refreshing scent and observing judging his meal preparation.

“Mm, yes, instant ramen, quite the challenge, Oikawa. What’s your strategy?”

“Divide and conquer. Watch and learn, y/n.”

He exaggerated his movements throughout the cooking process, which made clinging onto him a bit of a struggle, to say the least. He finally poured the cooked noodles and soup into a large bowl, adding in some boiled eggs, seaweed, and green onion for embellishment. “Voila!” he bragged, carrying the dish slowly to your small dining table as you continued to follow him. Oikawa set the bowl down, “Dig in, honey.”

Unlatching yourself from his back, you took a seat next to him and lay a head lazily on his shoulder. His heart fluttered at the sight of your cheek nestling comfortably into him, and he mentally kicked himself for letting your proximity make him experience those first date jitters all over again, even though it’s been four years since that time. He took in the details of your face, feeling his heartrate quicken when your eyes slowly flickered upwards at him from underneath your eyelashes. Your sweet lips parted slightly, looking like honey could drip from them at any moment. They were captivating, but tread the wrong way and he could be left stung. He wanted them to say his name, longingly--

“Well, are we going to eat or just sit here and let the food get cold?”

“O-Oh, right,” he stuttered out, taking a pair of chopsticks and dipping them into the bowl. How had his mind strayed so easily? He might act like he could keep his cool all the time, but with you, that was a different story. Four years whipped by quickly, but the thought of you never failed to bring him a sense of comfort, anticipation, embarrassment, and intrigue all at once.

He picked up a few strands of noodles and blew on them gently. The steam from the bowl rose to warm both your cheeks, marking them with a dewy, rosy tinge. Oikawa brought the noodles up to your open mouth, which you received with such delight that he had to refrain from gushing over how cute it looked. He continued to feed both of you, listening as you talked about work, how your friends were in quarantine, and what you wanted to do when things got back to normal. Although he was attentive, making sure to acknowledge your words with some sort of response such as a nod or a reply, he could feel a knot in his stomach begin to tighten ever so slightly. When his mind wandered, he couldn’t help but think about what the future held for you both.

You were one of the most supportive people in his life. You decided to move here in order to stay close to him and support his career and passion for volleyball. You found yourself a job in order to help make a living and adjust to your new lifestyle. You put effort everyday into your relationship, making sure you looked after one another and communicated your needs. Your empathy and understanding were unmatched, and he couldn’t imagine what his life would have been like for the last two years if you never came along with him. Reaching back farther, he was almost positive the last four years of his life and all the good that’s come his way since then was thanks to you.

“To be honest, that ramen hit the spot more than I expected it to,” you sighed with satisfaction. Then, you looked over at him and noticed the slight furrow of his brows. “Tooru...? Helloo?”

You waved a hand in his face and jolted him from his thoughts. He took your hands and looked into your eyes with a spark of determination. “Y/n.”

“Uhhh... Yes?” you asked, a bit confused.

Closing his eyes briefly and taking a deep breath, he proceeded. “The years we’ve been together have been among the best in my life. You’ve never failed to make me feel safe and happy, and I can’t imagine what my life would be like without you by my side. I need you to stay with me, to look after me while I also take care of you. I know we’ve only fantasized and shared jokes about the future, like when we tell our children stories, you’ll make fun of me and share with them some of the dumbest things I’ve ever done. When we get a pet dog (or cat, or any other pet you prefer), I’ll have to compete with it for your attention, and I’ll probably lose. When I’m old and my knee finally gives out on me, you’ll lug me around on your back. But I don’t want those things to remain little jokes; I want to experience all those moments with you, no matter how big or small. That said...”

Once Tooru realized what he was about to suggest, his cheeks flushed and he accidentally bit his tongue. “Ow, fuck!”

Startled and still caught off guard from his sweet words, your eyes widened as you choked out, “H-Huh?? What’s wrong, what happened?? Tooru?” You tried to convince yourself the heat you felt was due to the hot ramen and your concern for Oikawa.

I was just about to ask for your hand in marriage.

He held his hands in front of his face, waving them around in frantic dismissal. “N-Nothing, I just bit my tongue..!” Gotta think, gotta think of a cover...! What else could I even say that would make sense after having said all that..?!

He took in another deep breath and held up both your hands again, bringing them close to his mouth and giving them a kiss. “When this is all over... W-Why don’t we take a trip somewhere? We’ll go anywhere you like! Just us two, going on adventures, having drinks, doing fun things.”

You sighed out in relief, releasing your pent-up anxiety. “T-That’s all?! I-I mean, ah yes, of course! That sounds amazing, I’ve always wanted to go to *insert place here lol* and this would be the perfect chance!”

You cupped his face gently and brought him in for a warm, soft kiss. His lips meshed with yours as his hand reached for your jaw. His thumb caressed over your right cheekbone, pulling you closer and giving you a sense of security.

Though, at the back of your mind, you had suspected, Was he about to propose? But then you thought, Nah, if he was considering it, I don’t think he’d do that right now, stuck at home during quarantine. Now, what if I proposed before he did.... Hm...

And his mind was filled with, Oh thank god I caught myself, I don’t know what I would’ve done, I don’t even have anything ready, I never thought about it as seriously as I did in that moment, what was I thinking, also ramen tastes kinda good on their mouth...

A few minutes passed when you broke apart. He spent a few seconds looking into your eyes, which glistened with passion and love. “You’re really sweet, Tooru, you know that?” you said with a smile. He smiled, giving you a kiss on your forehead before standing up abruptly, much to your dismay. But then he offered to wash the dishes, much to your content and appreciation.

He finished not too soon after, then walked into the living room to find you splayed out on the couch and browsing your phone.

“I made dinner like I promised, so into the bath we go!” he yelled, hooking his arms underneath your back and legs to lift your body. You yelped in surprise, dropping your phone on the sofa. You instinctively wrapped your arms around him, laughing as he rushed towards the bathroom.

“Fine, I’ll keep up my end of the deal,” you said, reaching for the bathroom door’s handle and turning it open. Once inside, he kicked it shut with his foot and set you down on the sink counter. He moved towards the tub to turn on the warm water, then came back to the counter and held up two bath bombs. “So, you want rose or lavender?”

But instead, you hooked onto him once more and pulled him into a needy kiss.

Someday soon, when this is over, you’ll be mine forever, y/n.

Despite having lived with Oikawa’s dorky self for the past two years, having to be stuck at home with him all the time had definitely its perks. There wasn’t anyone else you would’ve rather spent your time with, that’s for sure.

a/n: fihuofiejmcg i tried LOL, i hope you liked, honestly was just typing ad goign along till i got ideas! I wouldnt let myself sleep until i finished this sdfghjk anyways. we luv oikawa. also i hope that last thought of his dont sound creepy LMAO

ps i shoulda been filling out my job application but lmaoooo

#haikyuu x reader #haikyuu reader insert #oikawa x reader #oikawa tooru #oikawa tooru x reader #haikyuu imagines #haikyuu oneshot #haikyu fluff #oikawa fluff

75 notes · View notes

gashinabts · 5 years

Text

Why we broke up (m)

Words: 4k

Paring: Jungkook x Reader

Genre: Angst, Fluff, kinda smut

Summary: “And I really wanted to see you again, talk to you again, be with you again. But if you don’t ever want to see me again then I’ll leave as if I never existed but can I please hold a little longer?”

Warning: Mature language, Implied sex, heavy petting

a/n: this is my first fic I was kinda hesitant to post it but here it is.. I really wanted to write a part 2 to do more explanation on how they broke up...but lets see how this one goes :() lol there might be a shit ton of grammar mistakes but please show me support !!!

Part 2

“Fuck—,” the pounding of Jungkook’s head was in radiating pain to the point where he couldn’t bear to open his eyes. Thinking to himself he shouldn’t have drank more than five soju bottles last night. If his head was in this much pain he couldn’t possibly imagine what his liver was going through.

Finally opening his eyes after a painstakingly minute he noticed two things: one, he is not in his bedroom and two he is naked. It wouldn’t be the first time he woke up in a stranger’s room. As he looked to the left of the bed there lies a naked woman.

He should get out before she notices, he hurriedly searches his clothes and puts them on, he notices a mirror in the women's room. God, how he hated the red blotchy marks that were littered around his neck.

Jungkook pats himself on the back when he successfully exits her house, he drives off in his car at a ridiculous speed, not because of the woman but because Eunwoo might be worried sick for him.

“Eunwoo!”, Jungkook yells while entering his house. “Daddy’s home, come over!”, the Shiba Inu runs over to Jungkook. “Sorry I’m really late for our morning run. I’ll make it up to you by taking you to the park then you can pee on every tree there is out there, sounds like a deal?”, Eunwoo barks out a response of agreement.

The change of scenery was nice for Jungkook there where a lot of people at the park filled with children’s laughter and screaming, the scent of grass that spring provided, it was indeed nice for him. Eunwoo takes the deal with Jungkook very seriously and is marking his territory on a big tree near the playground. He decides to look away from the dog to give him privacy.

Then time stills, everything is silent yet loud, when he spots you. Your surrounded by small children and your laughing while blowing bubbles in the air as they try to pop each one. It was breathtaking watching you in your yellow sundress and just being happy.

Jungkook can’t stop staring it was like the gods were playing a trick on him and he couldn’t tell if it was real.

Then you looked up to see him, Jungkook, big brown eyes staring into your eyes. He looks different, not that much but you can see that he matured well. You haven’t seen him in ten years surely features of him could’ve changed but no he still has those beautiful youthful doe eyes.

Jungkook quickly turns his gaze from you. “ Oh my god, Eunwoo what do I do! Maybe she didn’t see me,” he doesn’t know why he was lying to himself and why he was talking to his dog, as if Eunwoo would give him advice.

“Jungkook! Hey!, ” you rapidly walked towards him and you were still holding the bubble wand. You were gonna go for hug but then you stopped yourself, you couldn’t do that, things were different between you two.

“Y/N”, that’s all he said, why was he such an idiot he was thinking to himself he could’ve at least said ‘ hey Y/N’ or ‘what have you been up to’.

You just smiled brightly at him at his awkward stature. “ Jungkook we don’t have to be awkward with each other. I just wanted to say hi to you and see what’s up...While I’m here I wanted to congratulate you on your new song you produce that hit the charts, I really enjoyed it.” He looked intently into your eyes and now it was your turn to glance away with a shy smile.

Jungkook couldn’t believe that he was witnessing your smiles and your praises, after all the pain he caused you.

“ Thank you Y/N, that really means a lot to me. And it wasn’t all me, Yoongi helped me on some parts of the song ”, he returns a grateful smile towards you.

You hum in acknowledgement, “...Is that so, I knew I could her some Suga vibes into it.” He chuckles at your statement and then he feels a tug on the leash.

Eunwoo comes close to you and tries to rub against your legs. You gasp, and squat down, “ A Shiba Inu, my favorite! Aren’t you a cute one!”you caress it generously while speaking in a high tone.Millions of things were going on in Jungkook’s mind and that didn’t go well with the hangover he was having.

“Mommy!! I was looking for you!! I wanted you to see me finish the monkey bars ”, a child’s voice interrupts Jungkook’s thoughts. He watches as the child’s small hands grabbed onto your sundress, clinging onto to it. The child looks up at Jungkook’s tall figure and quickly decides to hide behind you.You smile to yourself grabbing your baby’s soft hands from behind you and bringing him towards the front of you. “ Baby, this person right in front of us, was a very very special person to me. His name is Jeon Jungkook. Now go on and introduce yourself like I taught you.” Your child nods shyly at you while he turns his full attention to Jungkook, “ Hello, Mr. Jungkook! My name is Eunwoo and I am five years old “, Eunwoo gave a small bow. You caress his hair while praising him a small good job.

The situation was all too fast for Jungkook, meeting you, and you having a child name Eunwoo. Of course you would have a child, you wanting a child was part of the reason you guys broke up. He felt like an asshole realizing that he named his dog the same name as your son, it was the name you confessed to him that if you were to ever have a child with him that it would be Eunwoo.

“Mommy, look!! Mr. Jungkook has a doggy!!,” you look at your son as he pets it energetically. “ I know isn’t he cute, Eunwoo? Jungkook what’s his name?”, you look up to Jungkook, while he scratches the back of his neck, why does he look so frantic.

“Umm—his name is...”, quick think of something Jungkook, “Tree! His name is Tree!” Eunwoo immediately starts to giggle, “ That’s a funny name.” You start to laugh alongside agreeing with Eunwoo. Jungkook sighs in relief and feels sorry that he renamed his dog the most dumbest dog name.

“ Mr. Jungkook…,” Eunwoo gets Jungkook’s attention and he nods for continuation. “Why do you have a lot of ant bites on your neck? You should put medicine on it, Mommy has special medicine at home.” You decide to see what Eunwoo is talking about and squint to look at Jungkook’s neck...oh those aren’t ant bites those are love bites, you couldn’t help but feel a pang of pain in your heart. You used to give Jungkook bites like that, when you wanted to just to claim him over and over again while riding him slowly. You shouldn’t be feeling this emotion you guys been over for ten years, you have to get a grip.

Jungkook hastily put his hand over his neck and was shocked that Eunwoo blatantly pointed but of course he didn’t know what hickies were. He observes your face and he couldn’t help but feel guilt when he saw how your once happy face was in pain. But how you quickly transformed it into a smile when Eunwoo begged you to get the medicine for Mr. Jungkook.

“...Y/N, I’m sor—,” you quickly interrupted him, “ Eunwoo it’s okay, Jungkook has own special medicine at his house too”, you hold your baby’s hand while swinging it a bit.

Why was he gonna apologize, it’s not like you guys are lovers anymore. You should be happy that he has found someone to love and take care of him. You should get going, you’ve been at the park for over an hour, you brush your dress down to get rid of any wrinkles and stare at Jungkook. You wait for him to say anything but the dead silence was too uncomfortable for you.

“ Well I should get going, it was nice seeing you Jungkook,” as you make small wave and smile warmly at him. Eunwoo gives tree a small pat and waves Jungkook a goodbye.

“ It was nice seeing you too, you look happy,” he gives a small response and a genuine smile. You look at him one last time, since it wouldn’t hurt you, and walk with your son towards your car. He continuously hums to a beat of a song that sounds familiar and then you feel a tug on your other wrist, forcing you to turn backwards. You look surprised to see Jungkook holding your wrist and breathing heavily.

“ —Wait Y/N, I wanted to see if you wanted to catch up, like for reals. Maybe go out for lunch or something? I know it’s stupid of me to ask for that, and you have every right to say no,” you don’t know what to say, your heart has been through enough yet it still flutters when he asked this question. You still feel his warm hand on your wrist and you gently take it off with your other hand. Eunwoo enters the car and buckles his car seat.

“ I’m sorry Jungkook but I’m quite busy,” you let out a small excuse. Well it wasn’t a lie you were busy with things which includes projects from work and Eunwoo’s birthday party. He looks a little disappointed but quickly gives a small smile and a nod.

It was ironic on how he was watching as you leave, when ten years ago he was the one that left.

He tugs Tree’s leash and starts to walk home.“ You know I’m sorry I renamed you Tree. Why was I such an idiot, it’s been ten years and now I finally have the audacity to try to ‘ catch up’ with her. God, I’m such a prick,” he’s getting odd stares from people since he’s talking to his dog but he doesn’t care.

Once he’s back home he gives Tree his dinner and takes a hot shower, vigorously trying to scrub his body. Once he’s done dressing in his pajamas he contemplates whether to look over the lyrics Namjoon sent him or to just call it a day. He decides to grab his headphones in his drawers and notices his old phone. The phone had so many precious memories, in the past, he decided to not transfer any old photos to his new phone. He wanted to start on a new page with his life, even if it meant erasing you. Jungkook pulls out the phone, presses the power button, and unlocks his phone. He goes to the photo app and looks for pictures of containing you, he continues to memorize every picture of your ethereal face. It makes him smile and laugh when your doing funny faces towards the camera.

“Oh—shit,” this particular picture made him flustered, his cock in your mouth looking up towards the camera, it was truly sinful. Then there was a video of you on all fours, his cock stretching you out. That night you begged him to fuck you like a slut and he nearly came four times. He feels a little stiff in his sweatpants, but it didn’t feel right for Jungkook to play the video so he quickly exit the app. He remembers that he muted your messages so you wouldn’t see the notifications from you and never bothered to read them, he presses onto your conversation, and notices an abundance of messages appear. He furrowed his brows in concentration and reads the messages dated from five years ago.

[Y/N] Taehyung came over to pick up ur stuff, do you really not want to see me?

[Y/N] How are you these days? Have you been eating well?

[Y/N] Happy Birthday best wishes to you :)!!

[Y/N] I went to the coffee shop and habitually order two coffees one with extra sugar and milk. Silly me. I couldn’t help but think of you wondering if drinking too much coffee.

[Y/N] congratulations on the award! You guys deserve it.

[Y/N] I’m so glad that you guys have an extended break!!! Get some good rest and fun time.

[Y/N] heyyy ur active on Xbox live, wanna play?

[Y/N] the moon was so bright today, I couldn’t help but think of you. You know the story you told me, that when you were young your mom would read you the book on how there was a family of bunnies on the moon. And for the longest you thought it was real, sometimes I wish it was real so it would make you happy.

[Y/N] i miss you

[Y/N] Hey, are you okay? I heard from the news that BTS disbanded.

[Y/N] I heard ur song on the radio!! It was so wonderful hearing ur voice again. I’m glad that ur still making music.

[Y/N] I saw you at the sushi place, I wanted to say hi to you but you looked happy with ur date. I’m happy that ur happy, I know that sounds cliche but I really mean it Jungkook.

[Y/N] My therapist said it wasn’t good for me to keep on texting you all these years. No worries I’m improving my health :)). So this is my last message to you, I’m sorry for texting you and being a nuisance when you didn’t want to hear from me. I wish you well, don’t forget to enjoy yourself!

Junkook finishes reading all the text messages and feels solemnly lonely with guilt. How were you always so kind? He goes to sleep that night with you on his mind.

You woke up the next morning in a rush since the alarm didn’t go off. Dropping off Eunwoo at school, you drive to work with desperate need for coffee on your tastebuds. Your secretary gives you your coffee and goes over the appointments you have with clients. You decided to take a break from reviewing the architecture plans. Your mind drifted off to Jungkook, you wondered what he was doing right now, is he having coffee right now too. You let out a small laugh remembering when he would add a lot of sugar to his coffee. God, why did you have to go say hi to him, you’re such an idiot. “ Ms. Y/N, ummm...can you sign this please. Sorry if I interrupted you,” the new intern rambles off, you smile at her and sign the approval plans.

Jungkook has lunch date with Taehyung, who he barely sees anymore due to his filming for a new drama. They are eating their burgers, but Taehyung doesn’t stop texting someone, Jungkook only gets annoyed after the past ten minutes, and snatches his phone. He goes to turn it off but notices your name and his stomach drops to the floor. How long have you guys been in contact, do you guys hang out, questions are firing through his head. He looks at the convo and sees a picture of Eunwoo doing the V sign, and an invitation to his birthday party. Why was Taehyung invited to the party but not him, you told him he was a special person.

“Jungkook...Y/N and I are still really good friends and still keep in contact with each other. Sorry that I was texting her while we were eating but can I please have my phone back?”

“Oh sorry, here. Do you think I can come with you?,” Taehyung gives him a confused stare, “ to Eunwoo’s party I mean…,”

“ Uhh Jungkook, I don’t know if that’s a good idea, you guys didn’t necessarily part on good terms and how do you know who Eunwoo is?,” Taehyung looks even more confused than he looked before.

“ Well I kinda bumped into Y/N the other day and met her son,” he shrugs his shoulders to act nonchalant but really he wanted to go with Taehyung to the party.

“ I can ask her if you can go—,”

“ NO!—I mean don’t please. I’ll promise that I won’t cause any trouble, just please let me go with you?”

“ Fine, okay you can come. But why do you wanna come so badly? You are already saw her the other day, I swear to god Jungkook don’t try anything with Y/N. She’s been through a lot.”

Taehyung puts his phone on silent, and carries on with another topic, explaining the plot of his new drama he is leading. Jungkook tries to focus on the conversation but is wondering what have you been through while he was out of life. He shouldn't be feeling jealous of Taehyung, that he’s still close to you.

That afternoon Jungkook goes to the store and tries to look for a present for Eunwoo, in which he realizes he doesn’t know much about Eunwoo despite him liking Tree. Maybe he should buy him a puppy for him, no I don’t think his mother would be happy with that. Taehyung most definitely knows more about what Eunwoo would like.

[JK] What does Eunwoo like? Im buying a present for him

[Taetae] anything space related and iron man on some occasions

[Taetae] ohhh I forgot and Shiba Inus

[JK] thanks buttface

[Taetae] :((

He feels a warm feeling in his heart, of course he would like Shiba Inus like his mother. Jungkook looks around, and he picks up Shiba Inu plush toy along with a space theme blanket. He wants to buy a whole lot of things for Eunwoo but he decides not to, he is about to leave when he spots the The Bunny on the Moon book, a rush of nostalgia hits him and he decides to buy it for Eunwoo.

It’s Saturday morning, and Eunwoo excitedly jumps on your bed, tugging your sheets, begging you to wake up. “ Mommyyyy, wake up!!! It’s my birthday and I want to start the party already!,” you playfully groan and pull Eunwoo into your arms. “ What? Today is your birthday? But you had one last year, that’s unfair,” you complain while pouting, Eunwoo giggles and you just want to bask in his scent, never letting your baby go. “ Silly Mommy!! We have a birthday every year, that’s why I look bigger today,” you hum in acknowledgment, feeling a little sad that he is growing up too quickly. You tell Eunwoo to take shower while you make breakfast.

The party starts at 1pm and you quickly set up the streamers and pack the goody bags, Eunwoo helps you blow the balloons, while you get dress yourself.

Eunwoo school and neighborhood friends arrive bringing presents of all sorts of sizes, claiming their presents is going to be the best for Eunwoo. He decides to play with his friends in the backyard, your putting all the presents in a pile, then a sudden six rhythm knock comes. You chuckle already knowing who it is, his boxy smile appears when you open the door, and you immediately grabbed him into a hug while burying your face into his neck. “Taehyung, I missed you,” you whispered into his neck, he puts his hands in your hair while saying he misses you too. You pull back about to tell him how his shooting go, but then you see Jungkook behind him holding presents looking at you with wide eyes.

“Oh, umm Jungkook what are you doing here?” You were honestly shocked that he was at your doorstep, you gave a questioning look towards Taehyung. “Y/N, Jungkook wanted to come to the party,” you wanted to ask why but that would sound rude so you invited them both in. Taehyung sprints outside grabbing Eunwoo into a hug and twirling him around. All the other kids asked if he can spin them around too and so he did. You smile to yourself, envisioning Taehyung with his own children.

“ Y/N, this is Taehyung’s present and this one's mine, where do you want me to put it at? ,” Jungkook lifts two different presents up, smiling a bit. “Here I can take it and I’ll put it away. You can hangout with Taehyung outside,” you grab the presents from his hands and start to put them in the gift pile. “ Do you need help with anything?,” you look around to see if anything needs to be done, and you notice some of the streamers fell down from the ceiling. “Actually, can you tape the streamers back up,” he eagerly nods and does the job. You hear knocking at the door and you figure it’s the pizza delivery. “ Baby—shit, I mean Jungkook can you get the door it’s the pizza, the money should be in the living room,” you both look flustered, and you busy yourself by taking the drinks out of the fridge. Why did he have to look so domestic it reminded you of the twenty year old him, it was no wonder why you called him baby.

Jungkook shakily hands over the money and grabs the pizza. When you called him baby he felt oddly content and wanted to hear you call him baby again. He sets the pizza boxes on the kitchen table, while you call in the children to eat. The kitchen is filled with children’s voices and munching on food, while you make conversation with Taehyung and Jungkook. You unconsciously give Jungkook another slice of pizza, knowing he can never get full of eating two slices. He thanks you with his mouth full, and you playfully roll your eyes and tell him to close his mouth.

After all the kids were finished eating pizza, you bring the cake out singing happy birthday while the kids join along, placing right in front of Eunwoo.

Jungkook wonders if he would’ve stayed with you all these years, he could imagine at least four kids, a pet dog, a nice big ring on your finger, and waking every morning with you beside him. Now that he’s in his mid thirties what took him so long that he desperately wanted that future. He awes at you when you place a kiss on Eunwoo telling him to make a wish.

After the candles were blown out and cake was given out, all the children had to leave since it was starting to get dark outside. Unfortunately, that meant his friends couldn’t see him open the presents, Taehyung tells Eunwoo to open his present. Eunwoo screams with joy when he opens an expensive telescope, he hugs Taehyung and kisses his face multiple times in which he happily accepts. His phone starts ringing loudly so he checks the caller ID, it’s a famous movie director and he excuses himself outside.

“ Eunwoo open my present too, a little birdie told me what you liked,” Jungkook smiles at him while handing his presents. He opens the present, his eyes gleams at the penguin astronaut pattern in space blanket and wraps it around himself. And starts giggling when he sees the Shiba Inu plushie and starts hugging it, “Look it’s Tree!!” Jungkook laughs along and rubs Eunwoo’s hair affectionately.

“The Bunny on the Moon,” Eunwoo reads and tilts his head to the side. Your heart stops while you look at Jungkook, why did he had to give something so personal to your son

“ I told your mom that I loved this book, we used to search everywhere for this book. You know she started crying when I told her that when I was young I would cry all the time since there were no bunnies on the moon,” your eyes started to sting and you wanted Jungkook to leave right now, why was he doing this to you. “ Mommy and Mr. Jungkook it’s okay, I’ll find a way to put bunnies on the moon so you guys won’t ever cry again,” he grabs the presents and heads to his room. You wipe your tears quickly and Taehyung enters the house.

“ Well I gotta head out, I have an early set tomorrow morning tell Eunwoo I love him,” you go to hug him telling him to come around the house more often and he accepts the offer as long as you cook him food.

“ Jungkook come on, I still have to drop your ass at.”

“ No it’s fine I’ll take an Uber, I want to help Y/N cleaning the kitchen.”

“ I don’t think...Alright I’ll see you guys later,” he closes the door, leaving you and Jungkook alone. You make your way to the kitchen, throwing away trash, while Jungkook washes the dishes.

“I finally read the messages you sent me years ago after seeing you at the park,” you sharply turn and look at him, you remember sending him text messages but he never responded. It was on some days when you saw him on Tv looking sad, some days when you wanted a friend to talk to, and on some days you just wanted to hear from him. Is that why he’s here because he feels bad for you? “I’m sorry that I didn’t respond, umm... so are you okay...because on the last message you sent me you said you were seeing a therapist,” you kept staring at him saying nothing while he twiddles with his fingers, it goes like this for a minute. You simply turn back and continue with your task, the tension is so thick and Jungkook couldn’t take it.

“Can you please talk to me?”

You turn back around and stare into his eyes, “Okay, why are you here at my son's birthday party? Why did you buy that book for him? Was it funny to you telling him that story on how I used to cry because I cared so much for you? Did you laugh at reading my messages thinking how pitiful I am? Why do you suddenly want to know about my well being? Are you ridiculing me, laughing at me in your head that I am single mother ? That in the past I wanted this with you but you didn't, and you feel bad right now. God, I’m so stupid I shouldn’t have talked to you that day in the park, I was being to greedy to myself, “ your finally expressing the emotions you were burying into yourself all day, your crying and trying to wipe all the tears.

Jungkook looks at you with a pained expression, the questions took him by surprise, your calm composure was gone. He didn’t come here to poke fun at you or pity you, he just wanted to see you again.

You were hysterically crying this is the first time in many years that you were crying this much. Then you feel him pull you into a hug, you try to put your hands against chest gently pushing him off but he held you closer. You gave up, letting your hands warp around him, crying against his chest. You felt warm in his arms and it gave a false sensation that everything is going to be alright.

“ No, I never once laughed at you or felt any pity towards you. I know for a fact that you are a great mother, so strong and caring. I’m sorry that I came to Eunwoo party uninvited and told him the story about that book, I was being insensitive and a dick. And when I read those messages I just felt so miserable that I just let the most wonderful woman in the wide world suffer go. And I really wanted to see you again, talk to you again, be with you again. But if you don’t ever want to see me again then I’ll leave as if I never existed but can I please hold a little longer?” You nod your head and let your cheek rest against his chest, while one of his hand is stroking your back and the other in your hair. You feel all types of emotions, like your mind can’t decide what you should be feeling.

“ You’re always a dick,” you finally say after a few minutes of being in eachothers arms, he pulls back and laughs an ‘I know’. Jungkook cradles your face with his hands and kisses your forehead. You want more of his affection, you want to be swallowed whole by it. The look in his eyes tells you the same, he lifts you by the waist and places you on the table, and he goes between your legs just hugging you. Nuzzing your face in his neck, you put your hands under his shirt memorizing his back muscles. He hear him sigh in content and his strong hands caresses your back gently. It feels nice just touching each other, trying to remember each others bodies. You pull back from him looking deeply into his eyes, you take one of his hands and place it on your bare thigh where the dress has ridden up. His hand massages up and down and you place one of your hands on his face tracing the scar on his cheek, the slope of his nose, and fingers tracing lightly on his bottom lip.

“ Y/N, can I please kiss you ?,” it’s small whisper but you can hear it very loudly, and you nod your head yes. You close your eyes and feel his lips on yours, it’s a gentle kiss, and it’s gone all too soon as he pulls back. “ Can I kiss you again?” You smile and bring your lips on his this time, parting your lips and his tongue slipping inside. Your starting to feel really hot and his hands go under your dress to feel your bare hip, thumbing the edge of your panties. “ Ahh—Jungkook let me take your shirt off,” you whisper into the kiss, taking his shirt off to the floor and you take a good look of his body, it looks more muscular than ten years ago, it’s like the gods sculpted him for you. He gives you lustful gaze while you feel his hand start to move the front of your panties. “ Mmm take them off Jungkook,” you encourage him desperately needing his fingers in you. He groans and you lift your butt up as he pulls it under, he slowly drags the panties down your legs, teasing you and you just want him to rip it off of you. The panties are finally off and you go to spread your legs apart inviting him in.

“ MOMMY!! YOU FORGOT TO READ ME A STORY!!” You both jump in surprise as you heard your son call from upstairs. Oh shit, were you really about to have sex on the kitchen table while your son was upstairs. You push Jungkook’s chest lightly and bend down to put your panties on. He gets his shirt and puts it on, “ Y/N, I miss you not just physically but emotionally.”

“ Let’s talk about this later, Eunwoo is calling for me,” you offer him a small smile.

“ Okay, it’s late I should head out, tell Eunwoo that I said bye,” you walk him towards the door and kiss him on the cheek as a ‘see you soon’ goodbye.

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Do not repost, translate, or alternate my work in any way, onto any platform. I do not take plagiarism lightly.

#bts #btssmut #bts smut #jungkook #angst #fluff #bts fic #bts fluff #bts angst #jungkook x reader #bts fanfic #fanfic #jungkook fluff #imagine #kookie #jungkook day

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ohnohetaliasues · 4 years

Text

Stones to Abbigale {Ch. 1}

(Kat)

This is going to be the worst thing I’ve ever read, isn’t it?

Am I going to actively want to die? Yes, most likely. But apparently, because I run a blog like this, I can endure suffering.

Flashbacks to Blood Raining Night.

Here we go. We will start with the introduction, written by the onion lord himself.

I want to be direct, my name is Greg. I go by “Onision” online.

Okay, I dunno what it is, but something feels off about this sentence.

This book is made up of events that occurred in my own life mixed with fiction from the made up life of James. James is essentially a better version of myself.

I can’t imagine how good that could be, seeing as the man who wrote this is a child predator and is just an overall piece of hot garbage.

His home, his school & his life all resemble my own at his age.

Don’t ever use a fucking ampersand instead of the word ‘and.’ It’s just bad grammar.

The people James analyzes and is surrounded by are not so unlike those I’ve known as well.

Analyzes?

Why?

I have experienced much of the loss James has however his happier moments are more often than not also mine.

Then write a memoir. Not this.

I want to share my story without it being purely non-fiction.

I mean, some people do this with books about their lives, but this feels... Odd?

I simply felt this approach would make for a far better book. At points I cried while writing this, at others I laughed.

Congratulations.

I don’t care.

Stones To Abbigale is not just a book I wrote, it is a piece of who I am.

That’s a given for all writers, but I still don’t care.

I’m going to rip this book to shreds.

Okay here we go.

I was asleep until I met her, but when I woke, I learned the meaning of "perfect imperfection."

Is this Onion boy trying to be poetic?

It actually made me want to die.

I've always been the type of person to focus on stars as we spin beneath them, the cool breeze on a sunny day, scattered patches of grass under my feet, the world around me, often forgetting to even glance at the one within.

‘The one within.’

Okay so the way this is written makes those three things seem disconnected. I often do stuff like this when I write, but I’d write it like ‘as we spin beneath them, focus on the breeze on a sunny day, on the scattered patches of grass, etc.’

You couldn’t pay me all the money in the world to rewrite that garbage sentence. This is all very waxing poetic and not in a good well structured way.

I had remained emotionally unexplored for so much of my life.

That must’ve been boring, not experiencing human emotions like the rest of us.

You sociopath, you.

It's painful knowing some can go an entire lifetime without understanding their own heart, an internal lock waiting for the right key to change everything.

Yeah, whatever, shut the hell up, you whiny idiot.

This is like an introduction by a teenager who just opened a poetry book and was like ‘yup. I wanna write like that.’

Except you aren’t William Blake or Walt Whitman and you never will be.

Sorry, Onion boy.

Except I’m not.

Die mad about it, grease ball.

It was the first Monday of November. I opened my eyes, blinded by my recently painted wall-to-wall white room. Even my bed frame, constructed of purely metal, was painted white.

Okay, cool. I’m a descriptive writer and I take every chance I can get to mention details, but even I find this description awkward. It feels irrelevant in this situation.

It bounced off the walls causing my eyelids to desperately clamp together. Painting my room like this was a clear act of subtle self-inflicted psychological torture.

Then why in the sweet hell did you do it? Do you enjoy suffering?

Actually, he probably does.

Because this is edgy as hell.

I was going through another phase, from darkness to light, and repeat. Seemed like the story of my life.

This is so edgy I am in physical pain.

You know your symbolism is good when it’s so random that you have to point it out and explain it to your audience.

My mom could see the darker colors were depressing me, I felt comforted by them, but found there were good aspects of both extremes. I was happy to visit either side, they are both so simple. But right now the intense light bouncing from wall to wall felt like it was ripping my mind in two.

Am I an idiot or is that just... word salad?

My mom didn't wake me. My alarm clock sat on my dresser with no explanation for it's failure to function. The clock only illuminated a blank stare with 8:17 written all over it's face. While entirely robotic, I imagined the clock to have the dumbest possible expression, one complementing its failure to behave any way outside its random glitch-infested nature.

That was the worst way to write a personification ever, but okay.

In the reflection of it's plastic face I could see myself unconsciously making the dumb expression I was imaging the clock to have. I laughed in my casual dorky tone and began to get ready to leave home.

I’m not laughing, idiot.

Without breakfast, I left for school with a bogus note in hand to idealistically explain my tardiness.

You... You wrote a fake note?

Do you realize you could get in trouble for that?

You’re an idiot.

I think most of my teachers were too exhausted to worry about small variances in our appearance from time to time. With how low their pay likely was, I imagined there were very few rules most teachers cared about.

That isn’t true at all. Teachers have to pay attention to rules unless they want to get, I dunno, fired.

It was another cold day in Lakewood. The wind hit my eyes forcing tears to form in the corners as I sped along the sidewalk at a no-doubt unreasonable speed.

I cannot imagine any good imagery for this scene. I’m just imagining this gif:

I passed Lauren and Raymon walking the opposite direction, no doubt headed toward the nearby church where all the students go to smoke, make out and hide out till school ends.

Um okay. Does this guy know that if characters don’t have relivance to the story, if they have no reason to be named, than they don’t have to be?

No.

Because he’s a 34 year old man baby.

They seemed so childish as they held hands and smiled excitedly as if they had gotten away with some tremendous crime.

That sentence seems so robotic I genuinely can’t.

Mr. Hanson, my heavy-set, middle-aged history teacher, rolled his eyes as I walked into class. "James, talk to me after class" he said quickly, looking away from me as if I were an undervalued employee who was barely important enough to make eye contact with let alone deliver a full sentence to.

It bothers me so deeply that a new paragraph wasn’t started when this character talked.

"I have a note," I said. He ignored me, and continued his lecture on yet another topic that would not only be completely useless later in life, but wasn't even relevant for even a few seconds after the words left his mouth.

Why is this teacher acting like a petty teenager?

I’m deeply annoyed by this.

And yeah, it’s relevant. You have tests, you idiot. Take notes. And it’s also history, which is, again, relevant.

In conclusion, shut your mouth and stop bitching.

There was only 15 minutes left in the class, but I felt it would be more stimulating to integrate myself into the room to yet again study my classmates' behavior than to sit in a hall watching the rows of scum covered tiles inevitably slide off the decaying walls.

That’s a health code violation, friends.

Or Onion is an awful writer and he thinks describing a school like this is a good idea. My money is on that.

For as long as I remember I've enjoyed seeing how people move around and talk to each other, like they're all animals at the zoo.

Something is wrong with you, friend. Liking to people watch is one thing, but doing shit like this is something else entirely.

Uh, try sociopath-like?

Creepy as hell?

We’ll go with both.

I would try to deliver a more accurate analogy if I felt there was one

Bitch, there is. I can’t name one off the top of my head because reading this makes me feel like my brain is melting out of my ears, but I’m 100% sure there is a better analogy. Even though this feels more like a simile.

but so many of them seemed incredibly unaware of themselves, just living life as if it were some generic predefined routine.

Oh, and you’re so much better obviously, you pretentious bastard.

Sometimes I felt like an alien who had a VIP pass to submerge myself in primitive human culture just for entertainment.

Congratulations, that’s also what you sound like.

I sense everything I can take in around me. The seemingly limitless audible tones, tremors in the voices of growing children rang in my ears. In studying people, I found myself gradually learning to literally feel the various personality types I encountered.

Do you... Do you have psychic powers?

If not, shut your damn mouth.

I hyper analyzed every inconsistent smell, the seemingly random clothing styles, freckles, and assorted hairstyles filled my mind with questions. Trying to rationalize and understand what sequence of events led them to decide who they would become.

You are the most pretentious protagonist I have ever read. I’m half a chapter in and I already fucking hate you.

This character is so poorly written and immediately unlikable. i cannot relate to him at all and if someone does, I suggest you go get some help because how this asshole is behaving doesn’t sound human.

I took favor of categorizing most everyone around me. The socially inept know-it-all, the dumb attention-seeking drama kid

On behalf of all drama kids, go fuck yourself.

and the bleach blonde bimbo who gets overly defensive at the slightest hint of criticism.

Do you mean you?

Onion obviously didn’t let anyone edit this garbage.

Then there were the kids who just hoped no one noticed them at all. There was so much to be seen, to be considered and organized in my mind.

Mhm.

I don’t care.

Class had just ended so I walked over to Mr. Hanson's' desk &

And*

placed the tardy note down in passing. As I walked out with the rest of my class, he called after me. "James! We still need to talk!" I responded but continued to walk outside the room. "I have to be early to my next class! Let's talk tomorrow!"

You’re an asshole.

And I hate you.

I walked quickly down the hall towards my art class, which was awkwardly placed in a trailer outside my clearly poorly funded high school.

Um.

Okay.

On my way to the class a fight had already broken out between two jocks who, no doubt, both had controlling, iron-fisted fathers who brainwashed them into believing conflicts between men are best resolved with the bloodying of their fists.

That’s a bold thing to assume, dear Onion.

These kinds of men plagued my mind with wonder. I could not conceive a scenario in which they could justify their primitive & pointless mentalities yet they would always continue to perpetuate their self-destructive attitudes as if it offered the slightest legitimate benefit.

Oh, shut your pretentious mouth.

Most everyone nearby crowded around the fight. None of them likely cared who was winning, what it was about or how far it went. All they ever seemed to show concern for was their own amusement, always excited to see violence without having to pull out their wallets to pay for it.

Are you joking?

Where are the teachers?

This is complete bullshit.

This is high school, not a fucking fight club.

Does Onion even try to make this believable? Or is he just vomiting all over his keyboard and just accepting whatever nonsense that makes?

As the sounds of flesh collided fist to cheek & chest quickly followed the howls from the surrounding students. They would scream "Oooohhhh!" as if it were sincerely delightful to witness creatures like themselves suffer & fall apart before their eyes.

The use of ampersands is making me lose my goddamn mind.

Even if I had time to stop, I never really took pleasure in seeing strangers hurt each other. Most all fights seemed avoidable and were often initiated for a senseless reason.

Go choke on air. This protagonist annoys me more than any protagonist has. I’m not joking. Fuck this dickwad.

I know, you could say it's more complicated than that, I would like to think it were as well, but reality trumps the way I wish things would be. There's no sense in fighting it when doing so rarely helps anyone.

While this is true, this is worded in a way that’s so pretentious it’s painful and also in a way that paints this protagonist in such a white knight-y way that it makes me want to die.

As I approached my next class the image of Abbi's face illuminated the neon walls of my mind like a projector teasing a theatre screen with fleeting moments of depth & purpose.

That is complete and utter word salad. Stop immediately.

Ever since I met her, she had occupied a part of my consciousness; whenever I wasn't near her I missed her to an unrealistic extent. You could call my longing sad especially considering we had barely talked; she just had a strange effect on me, one no doubt similar to a willful addiction.

That’s called a crush, but the way that was just described is so creepy.

There are people in life which we pass by on a daily basis, barely aware of their existence, but on an exceptionally rare occasion you can find a person who fills an area inside your little world you didn't even realize needed filling.

While that’s technically not untrue, it feels like a lizard person is trying to tell me what having a crush on someone is like.

As I walked up the creaking stairs into my art class trailer I could see Abbi was sitting at her shared-desk, alone, same makeup, hairstyle & general appearance I had thought about repeatedly over the last couple days. She was drawing pictures on her blue-lined paper, distracting herself from the cold that filled the oddly glowing room.

This... This imagery is so fucking weird.

I smiled slightly trying not to be too obvious and sat down on my chilled metal chair positioned a few seats to the left in front of her. Glancing over, I could see she hadn't moved at all, I felt like she didn't even notice me come in.

You aren’t the center of her world, so yeah, she’s focused on something else. That’s just how it is, asshat.

I wanted to inspire some acknowledgment of my existence from Abbi so I opened my mouth to greet her when my fingers brushed up against freshly smeared gum under my desk. "Eeew!" I shouted out on impulse. She looked up at me with a blank expression.

I’ve accidentally touched gum on the bottom of my desk before, as I can imagine everyone has, but I’ve never shouted about it like a lunatic.

Bursting into the room came a group of boys. "Dude I think John's done bro!" one of the other boys laughed, saying "Won't see them for a week at least."

Nobody talks like this. Have you ever spoke to another human?

I looked back at Abbi to see she also didn't react to their outburst. Strangely knowing that her apathy was generalized and impersonal gave me comfort.

There needs to be a comma after ‘strangely,’ but whatever.

Her influence on how I felt was obviously dangerous but I didn't care as no matter how fond I was of the idea that I was not of the world, I knew my place and had no real interest in pretending otherwise.

Explain to me how in the hell that’s dangerous.

Jason, one of the boys energetically praising the fight they had just seen, sat in his seat next to Abbi. I smirked watching her shoulders shift away from him. Her body language sent a loud message that she had the same impression of Jason as I did. He was just another moron, placed on this Earth to live his life completely unexamined,

That word is not used properly in that sentence.

a pawn that had no awareness of its own role let alone that it was just another tiny component within a massive unstoppably twisted game.

Shut your pretentious mouth because that doesn’t make any goddamn fucking sense.

I know it sounds morbid and condescending but my attitude was just something that naturally developed the more I studied human behavior.

Bullshit.

I would be more optimistic but I find doing so would be like walking into a room with no windows and turning out the light. If you refuse to see the world around you for what it is you're just wasting your eyes.

Being optimistic means looking on the good side of things. You’ve heard the glass half empty or half full thing. it’s that. And as someone who jumps between optimism and pessimism, being optimistic isn’t like this at all.

Don’t try to be poetic or funny, Onion. Those are two things that you aren’t.

Art class was about to begin. My teacher, Mrs. Stanley, who looked like she should have retired a ridiculous thirty years ago, approached the front of the room talking about how art is sacred. She also discussed the random object she had us all draw the previous school day and ironically graded it by using her own narrow-minded definition of art.

That isn’t ironic.

I always wondered how teachers could even attempt objectively grading art. Is there any logic behind validating a form of self-expression using a cold black and white mathematical system?

It’s a class where you have to follow the curricula. Shut your damn mouth.

And this is coming from someone who hated her art teacher. But this art teacher was so utterly closed minded that she didn’t accept anyone else’s creative process. She basically told us that if we didn’t follow her process, we weren’t real artists.

"Today I'm going to place you with partners" Mrs. Stanley said as she pulled out sheets of paper outlining our activities to come. "To keep this simple, I'm going to partner you with the person you are currently assigned to share a desk with" she said. I sighed knowing I was bound to be paired up with Alex, a guy I had specifically asked to be seated away from ever since he peed in a jar literally right next to me under our desk, acting like he was so cool for publicly exposing himself while simultaneously urinating.

That... He expected to be treated like he was cool for this?

That’s fucking disgusting.

It happened weeks ago and I still can't figure out what kind of crazy it takes for you to, in the presence of people you barely know but have to see nearly on a daily basis, pee in a jar held in your hand just beneath your desk in the middle of a classroom.

At first when I read this, I thought that the wayit was worded made it sound like Alex forced James to hold the jar while he peed in it, but okay, whatever.

What then? You show it off like you will be praised and accepted as if it were an accomplishment? Alex, despite being borderline mental, was one of my least favorite people to study.

It is actually physically exhausting to read this shit. James is a pretentious asshole.

I couldn't help but feel there was some defect in his mind that invalidated the point of conducting a thorough analysis of him.

This just makes it seem like James has mind reading powers.

He was completely irrelevant when considering the realities of normal human behavior.

Behavior you don’t act according to, you lizard person sociopath.

As I was off on a tangent in my own mind I heard a familiar voice ring out, one that inspired the very same emotion you experience when a song you had forgotten you loved, randomly plays in the background of your daily life. "Can I be paired up with James?" her voice was just as I remembered.

Is this Abbi?

I have a friend who spells her name like this, so I really hate that there’s a character in this shitty book who shares a name with her.

Despite her having not spoken in class in some time, she hadn't changed a note. Abbi had interrupted the teacher just to partner with me, but I asked myself if was it really just to work with me or just to get away from Jason.

Um. Okay.

The teacher, looking irritated but understanding Abbi's discomfort with Jason responded "Alex and Jason, you'll be partners. James, switch seats with Jason" "Thank you!" Abbi said with a slight smile. With a cocky grin Jason stood up and in a comedic fashion smelled his armpit. "Wow, I didn't know I smelled that bad" Jason said as he walked over to sit by Alex.

That isn’t funny and Onion boy isn’t funny.

Approaching Abbi was no doubt a way scarier act in my mind than it was to everyone around me, I felt like my head was burning from the inside out.

That’s a little extreme.

Nevertheless I continued to remind myself that her public outcry to partner with me could have meant nothing. I sat down next to her and did all I could not to turn into a complete dork on her. She reached out and grabbed the project outline that was being passed out. Mrs. Stanley began to read the description of the assignment. "Today you will both be taking something meaningful, but expendable, from your own homes."

If something is meaningful it isn’t expendable. Stop.

Mrs. Stanley looked up and emphasized, "That you own!" then looked back down at her paper. "You will tear those items apart here in class. You will then take those items and, using the adhesives, staples and the strings available in class, find a way to create something new out of those possessions."

That’s actually kind of an interesting idea. But like. Maybe with a cup? I don’t wanna rip apart something I care about.

She looked up and said in a low voice sounding somewhat like Dracula "Two, will become one."

That is unnecessarily creepy. It reads like an innuendo.

Also, what in fresh hell does Dracula’s voice sound like?

Did she say it with a Transylvanian accent? I’m confused.

Jason raised his hand objecting, "All due respect Mrs. Stanley I'm not breaking something of mine for this class."

Jason has the right idea.

She replied putting her hands on her hips, "That's fine Jason. We'll supply you with a toilet paper rolls, we have plenty of extras around here." Jason suddenly looked disturbed and sarcastically spouted "Freaking great!"

Why???

That’s better than ripping apart a t-shirt.

Mrs. Stanley asked, "Are you sure? Your grade shouldn't suffer that much if you two just take Alex's piss jar and tape it to a toilet paper roll. You're already failing this class."

What in the literal fuck?!

You cannot say that to students. No, you can’t say that to anyone.

Jason couldn't believe what she had just said

Same.

and Alex maintained an awkward frozen facial expression with his mouth slightly open in his normal weirdo somewhat robotic fashion.

"Oh my god" Abbi whispered under her breath with a slight smirk. I grinned uncontrollably; just seeing her amused was amazing to me.

That wasn’t really funny, it was just shocking.

I could hear a scream in the back of my mind reminding me my dorkiness and borderline obsession was escaping through my face.

It's not that I couldn't help being in awe of Abbi and basically every little thing she did, I simply didn't want to change how I felt. In a way, she was like your favorite song or book, you could pretend not to like it and in time with the right mental coaching maybe you would sincerely dislike it, but life just felt so much better embracing your condition entirely, letting all your nerdy admiration flow freely.

This just reads like an obsession. I don’t have the energy to actually express how romantic feelings actually feel, but this is terrifying.

Mrs. Stanley continued, "If there's anyone else who has an issue, please take it up with my 1800 number which is?" She put her hand up to the air signaling the students to react but only a couple kids replied aloud with her catch phrase. "1-800-BOO-HOOO" they mumbled.

Sweet Jesus.

So this is what it feels like to lose my mind.

She continued, "Good, now for the rest of class please work with your partner on what you plan to bring and draw up a prototype sketch of what you feel your final piece of art will look like." Mrs. Stanley walked to the back of her room and sat down at her 1950's looking rust-infested desk.

Is this school just a giant health code violation? And what the hell do you mean by ‘1950′s desk?’ All I got when I googled that were pictures of wooden desks.

I would always laugh internally when I looked at the old thing. Maybe it was my way of coping with the fact I attended one of the most run down schools in the state.

I have nothing that isn’t full of curse words and fact checking to say here.

"What are you going to bring James?" Abbi asked.

This sentence is put so Abbi looks like she’s asking if James is going to bring himself without the comma after the word ‘bring.’ Did Onion really not edit his book at all? These are simple and fixable grammatical mistakes.

It was amazing hearing my name pass her lips but I had no time to think, if I didn't respond right away she would think I was totally awkward. "I... have no idea..." I responded. Smiling she said, "I'm going to bring my hamster cage", I asked, "Did he die or something?" she laughed, "No, I never got one, the cage was just a gift from my dad."

But you’re supposed to cut it up.

Hamster cages are made of metal.

Does Abbi just have superhuman strength? Is she going to bring a pair of bolt cutters?

"Your dad didn't get you a hamster... for the cage?" I asked.

My question exactly.

Sometimes you just...

You just gotta give your daughter a hamster cage but no hamster.

She paused and started to lose her smile.

Oh fabulous, she’s one of those characters.

At the first sign of her smile fading I felt a crushing pressure in my chest. "Hopefully you can find something that will work with that," she said. I couldn't help but feel like a total jerk despite not even knowing what I did wrong.

That interaction was so... Weird? Robotic? i don’t know. Something felt wrong about it.

I had the overwhelming urge to fix how she felt so I took a gamble, "Well, I could always bring that weird vibrating thing my mom hides in her drawers all wrapped up in a cloth" I said.

What is wrong with you?

I cannot fathom what made Onion think this joke was funny.

She busted out laughing hysterically as a huge grinned filled my face. I was so happy I could get her to smile again. "Eeew! James!" she continued to laugh as the extent of my grin began to stress my cheeks. I couldn't remember a time when I was this obvious about how I felt.

This... Something is wrong with just... all the dialogue.

And with the formatting. You make a new paragraph when someone starts talking. A 34 year old man should know this. He writes like me when I first started writing, and while this probably means he just started writing, I was 11 years old when I wrote like this.

He is a 34 year old adult. There is no excuse for how bad this formatting and how generally terribly written these interactions are.

Abbi's laughing trailed off and she paused. Turning to me she said, "You... you didn't actu- ally... your moms?"

*Pained groaning.*

I responded, "No, I wouldn't know about that, but I'm glad it made you laugh." She responded, returning to a soft laugh "You're more goofy than I thought James." I sat next to her looking at my fingers interlaced in front of me; my wide smile relaxed but still filled my cheeks with warmth.

This entire chapter, everything here, is so awkwardly written.

As class came to a close Abbi patted me on my arm. I turned and she handed me a note. Instinctively I put it in my pocket and said "See ya tomorrow", she just smiled and walked away.

????

On my way to my next class, I opened the note. I didn't understand why, but it read "NISEONE."

Not knowing what to make of it and with little time, I stuffed it back in my pocket to look over later.

Yeah, that’s cryptic as hell.

Not feeling like skating home,

Oh, we’re really getting into edgy 2000′s shit now.

I got on the bus to see all the normal rejects and misfits waiting. Davis, a short and scrawny kid who had been my best friend since middle school despite being one grade behind me excitedly waved me over.

Oh, good, more terrible characters.

"James! Nice to seeeee you!"

Oh, this bitch needs to die.

he said in seemingly the dorkiest way possible. I smiled as he stood up giving me the window seat, knowing very well by then that I preferred it.

Um. Okay.

As I sat down I began looking out the window, analyzing the little humans running left and right to get on their busses.

Buses*

And I am going to eventually kick your ass for this pretentious bullshit.

Something reached out and caught the corner of my eye. I immediately shifted my head to see what it was and quickly realized it was Abbi standing in the parking lot by some beat-up sedan.

"What'cha looking at James?" Davis asked. Without hesitation I began to respond, "Oh, it's Abbi, she's in my art..." my heart sank as I witnessed a boy I barely knew, named Seth, walk up and kiss Abbi on the lips.

Oh, boo fucking hoo. Get over the fact that she has a life outside of your crush on her.

"James?" Davis said, but by that point his voice was a faint echo in the darkness my mind instantaneously lost itself in. I felt like after a life of numbness I was finally about to truly feel warmth for the first time only to have it all taken away in an instant, leaving me hopeless in the shadows, alone once again.

Cry me a goddamn river.

You angsty pretentious idiot.

Don’t give me angsty word salad about how sad this makes you, I don’t actually care at all.

I looked down at my knees feeling as if I lost all muscle control in my neck.

That isn’t a thing that happens ever when someone is upset.

"Are... you ok?" Davis asked. I responded with hesitation "...I'm... just stupid."

You spoke to her once, you fucking dumbass.

"No you're not. You're one of the coolest guys I know!" Davis replied. I continued my silence as he offered words of encouragement. "Okie dokie, well, you're awesome and should be super happy so if you want to talk, I'm your buddy so... so I'm here to talk."

That’s uh, nice of him.

But the way he’s talking sounds like... almost mechanical? All he’s done since he was introduced has been compliment James.

I was too focused on the con- flict raging in my mind to hear anyone at that point. I couldn't think about anything but Seth kissing Abbi the entire trip home.

Oh, get the fuck over it.

That night my mom was literally just serving lentil beans she prepared on her crock-pot for the billionth time, a fair exaggeration but still, it was excessive to say the least. My sister was behaving as she usually did at the dinner table, talking about how stupid she thought school was and how she couldn't wait for college. "How was work mom?"

I mean, I’m also tired of high school. I’m really done with judge-y teenagers.

I asked trying to keep my mind off the haunting images looping in my mind.

YOU HAVE HAD ONE FUCKING CONVERSATION WITH HER. CRY ME A FUCKING RIVER, YOU BITCH.

Any normal person would express disappointment over the fact that a person they like has a boyfriend or girlfriend or partner in general, not go into a damn depression about it.

"Well, no one at work respects me or listens to me and I generally can't stand it, but you know, we still have food on the table" she said in a stern tone.

That

That is weirdly passive aggressive and mechanical.

My sister barked as food flew out of her mouth, "Well at least it's not high school. I'm learning how to be a successful person from a bunch of low-income losers."

Oh, I guess bitching runs in the family.

My mom replied "Whatever your teachers are, they have full-time jobs, which is more than a lot of people can say." My mom gave my sister Lisa a disap- pointed look. Lisa was well known for showing little respect for hard-working people. To her it didn't matter how much you gave back to society, it only mattered how much money you made.

That’s a very black and white way to look at things.

After the rerun of lentil soup I washed the dishes per my mom's orders and headed to the shower. I sat on the floor of the tub thinking about Abbi, barely feeling the water as it hit my chest.

Sat on the floor... while water hits your chest? Are you like sitting with your back arched so the water can hit your chest?

This imagery is so odd.

I was so consumed with what I had seen that I had completely forgotten the note until that moment. I quickly reached over to my pants resting on the toilette.

Why the fuck did you spell toilet like that?

That’s literally the word for ‘toilet’ but in French. It isn’t a spelling used in English. It just makes you sound even more pretentious.

Also, he reached over to the toilet to grab the note from his pants while he’s in the shower?

It’s gonna get wet, you idiot.

I had hoped I read it wrong the first time and that it would make sense with a second look only to see it read exactly what I gathered in my initial passing glance. "NISEONE"

I fucking hate you, Onion.

This literally looks like you scrambled your screen name up.

Die.

In a fire.

I mumbled to myself. I joked with the idea in my head that she handed me the wrong note but still assumed it wasn't a failed attempt to say "Nice one," which could be taken as a compliment if you were desperate enough.

That joke, while just a little funnier, is still fucking lame.

Seconds into looking at the note my eyes widened, having figured out what it meant, I jumped up slipping to my feet and screamed "YEAH!!!" I had cracked it, only to immediately after feel completely stupid for not having figured it out sooner.

I’m just done functioning.

My mom screamed through the door from her bedroom "WHAT?" I responded "Sorry! Nothing!" I hurried to finish showering.

I’d just assume he got really into jerking off.

I’ll see myself out.

Staring at my phone wearing only a towel, I smiled as I typed in "NISEONE" or "647-3663" into the number keys.

That is the most cryptic and strange way to give someone your phone number.

I assumed we shared the same area code otherwise she likely would have given me a longer sequence of letters and I was right. After two rings I got an answer. "What do you want?" a disgruntled man's voice asked.

This... This girl gave this guy a home phone number?

I guess that’s fine since this is probably set in the early 2000′s, but it’s still odd.

Like a bad engine struggling to start in a monster movie I clumsily belted out a response "I... uh... I was looking for..." An unenthusiastic female voice in the background said, "Give me the phone." "Whatever" he said dropping phone in front of her.

James can apparently see through the phone, or he wouldn’t know that probably Abbi’s dad did this.

"Hello?" I could recognize the voice now it was Abbi.

Trying to hide my excitement by maintaining a normal tone I said, "This is James." Abbi excitedly screamed

Like how girls screamed in Disney Channel shows?

That’s ridiculous.

and responded "Oh my god you figured it out!" Hearing her optimistic tone I laughed saying, "So... why..." She interrupted. "I was hoping to find out if you figured out what you're bringing to art class."

Why the hell didn’t you just fucking ask? Or give him your regular phone number? This is just unnecessarily complicated.

I said "Oh!" and looked quickly around my room. I couldn't see anything immediately so I just said, "I'll... surprise you!" She then replied "Oh come on, tell me." My eyes locked on to a plausible item for the project. "How about my... bear... I'll bring my bear!"

You’re okay with destroying a teddy bear? Okay, I guess.

I said. She replied "Oh, ok, oh! I have an idea. Instead of the cage, I'll bring in a stuffed animal of mine and we'll make like, a zombie bear."

Sounds fine.

I don’t care.

You guys are fucking boring.

I laughed "Awesome" I said. "Ok, I'll see you tomorrow ok?" she replied happily. I answered "Ok, byeee."

I would appreciate it if you would fuck off.

I can’t believe this shit is on GoodReads.

Just before she hung up I could still hear her laughing, leaving me with a sense of accomplishment and a lasting smile as if it were painted across my face.

That’s the end of chapter one?

Oh god, okay.

That was.

Terrible.

The characters are bland and flavorless and I cannot get attached to any of them. I can already tell I’m going to completely despise this.

I’ll see you next time. I need to go think about my life.

~Kat

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7-wonders · 5 years

Text

As Above, So Below Ch. 9

Summary: Your average, mundane life as a college student is flipped upside down when the man you thought you knew as your next-door neighbor turns out to be the God of the dead. When Michael lures you down to Hell, everything that you thought you knew about the world is proven wrong.

Word Count: 3183

A/N: This chapter’s extra long to make up for how shitty I’ve been with updating lately. Thanks for sticking around; feedback is always appreciated and my inbox is always open!

“I’m not wearing that.”

“You have to, it’s tradition!”

“Screw tradition, I’m not wearing it!”

You’re in a face-off with Madison, glaring fiercely at the woman while she clutches a corset in her hands. After Desa wasn’t able to convince you to wear it, she had gone to get Madison, which only agitated you more. You’re already nervous about seeing Michael tonight, as well as being in a room with a bunch of legendary gods and goddesses who are so much more worldly than you are. Your nerves are shot, and this is really not helping things right now.

Madison sighs deeply, pinching the bridge of her nose in frustration. “Why won’t you wear it?”

“Because it’s a sexist piece of clothing rooted in patriarchal values. They’re used specifically to make a woman ‘aesthetically pleasing,’ which is the dumbest thing I’ve ever heard.” You explain your viewpoint.

“I...really hate that you’re right.” Madison concedes after a moment, causing you to smirk with pride. “Fine, don’t wear it. You’ll look great no matter what.”

Madison is already dressed, wearing a black strapless dress with sleeves that flow down to her elbows and a slit on the side of the fabric that shows off her long legs. Gold leaves accent the dress in just the right way, and the outfit is completed with a dainty diadem on her head. You can only imagine that every other woman who will be attending tonight will look just as ethereal as the woman in front of you.

“I’m not gonna be able to even stand next to you and all the other goddesses.” You chuckle, attempting to make light of your very real fear.

“Why not?”

“Look at you, and then look at me. There’s your answer.” Madison frowns, tossing the corset onto your bed and grabbing your shoulders to drag you towards the mirror.

“Why do you put yourself down so much? You do this whenever I dress you up.”

“I don’t know, it’s hard to not compare myself when I’m surrounded by all these perfect women. Plus, with social media you’ve got Instagram models and Facetune being shown to you everyday. It’s pretty much ingrained in our minds to compare ourselves and see how we can be ‘better.’” You cough, meeting Madison’s eyes through the mirror. “It’s just normal, I guess.”

“Beauty is very much a human concept. Even at the height of Greek civilization, mortals were fighting over what beauty truly was. Do you know what some of the greatest philosophers decided?” You shake your head, and she smiles. “They couldn’t come to a conclusion. Beauty’s subjective, and it’s often true that the most beautiful people carry their beauty within them.”

“Yeah, but-”

“Hush. You don’t know how beautiful you are, both on the outside and the inside. If the Greeks fought a war over Helen of Troy’s beauty, they’d fight ten wars over yours. You have the literal God of the Underworld head over heels for you, and not to mention all of the beings down here who are drawn to your inner beauty. I promise, you belong here. Besides, when you’ve been alive for as long as all of us have, judging people based on the symmetry of their face or how conventionally attractive their features are becomes very blasé and trivial.”

You attempt to desperately blink your tears away, not wanting to ruin the makeup Desa had so carefully helped you to apply earlier. First Michael’s declaration yesterday, and now Madison’s lecture/reminder today, and now you want to collapse into a puddle of tears and hug every person in sight. Madison senses this, and she rolls her eyes before sighing.

“Get over here and hug me.” She loses her balance slightly at the intensity of your hug, but quickly returns it.

“I knew you’d give into my hugs soon enough.” You mutter into her ear, feeling her shoulders shake with laughter.

“Don’t you dare tell anybody how much of a sap you’ve made me become.” She jokingly warns you.

“Your secret’s safe with me, I swear.”

“Alright, we’ve wasted enough time having a heart-to-heart chat, let’s get you dressed.” Madison snaps her fingers, and Desa appears with a dress in her hands.

Minutes later, you’re inspecting yourself in the mirror again, but this time with glee instead of criticism. The two women (your best friends here, if you’re being honest) picked out a dress made out of some flowy fabric--Organza? Chiffon? You wish you would have paid more attention to your grandmother’s attempts to teach you sewing--that falls down your body like water. The neckline is a deep V, almost reaching down to your waist. You’ve never been a fan of the color pink, but the pale pink color compliments you perfectly. Silver flowers wrap around your figure, which you’re sure is a deliberate choice on Madison’s part. Desa’s wrapped the same flowers throughout your hair. You look completely different while also looking the same as always, kind of like-

“A goddess.” Three sets of eyes go towards the door, where Michael now stands and watches you. You note with glee that fashion is, indeed, not lost on Greek gods. He’s wearing a velvet, blood-red jacket over a sharp black dress shirt, black slacks tucked into the red-bottom boots he’s fond of, and a red and black scarf tied around his neck. Red eyeshadow makes his cyan eyes pop even more than you thought was possible.

“Your hair!” You exclaim, choosing to focus on arguably the smallest detail. In your defense, his hair looks nothing like you’ve seen before; in the span of a day, his hair has grown down to his shoulders.

“You don’t like it?” He teases.

“No I do, I like it a lot, it’s just different. A good different, though.” You stutter out, blushing at how dumb you probably look right now.

“And you, my dear, look like a goddess.” Michael, ever the gentleman, kisses the back of your hand after he approaches you.

“See you out there.” Madison smirks, throwing a cheeky wink your way before sauntering out the door.

“Anything else, (Y/N)?” Desa asks.

“No, thank you Desa.” You smile at the handmaiden, who nods before disappearing. Suddenly it’s just you and Michael, which sends butterflies fluttering through your abdomen. Michael grins at you deviously before leaning in to kiss you.

“You should have started with that.” You giggle breathlessly as Michael places his large, ringed hands on your waist.

“I’ll keep that in mind for next time. Less compliments, more kissing.” He makes his point by kissing you again. “I meant what I said, though. You really do look like a goddess.”

“And I meant what I said, too. I really like the hair. You should consider keeping it like this.” You run a hand through his hair, relishing in the silky feeling.

“Hmm, I’ll consider it. For now, we really should be going. It’s not too good for the host and his lovely date to be late.”

“Wait!” You drag Michael to a stop, and he looks at you in confusion. “I forgot shoes.” You say sheepishly, letting go of his hand to grab the pair of (low) heels still sitting at the end of your bed. You shove them on as quickly as possible, holding Michael’s hands for balance so that you don’t fall.

“Are you ready now?” He asks, smiling fondly at you. With your nod, he lets you wrap your hand around his forearm again, leading you to the throne room.

He can sense how nervous you are as you stand in front of the closed doors, waiting for the butlers to open them and formally introduce Michael. Your grip on his arm keeps growing tighter, and you’re nervously shifting your weight back and forth between each foot.

“There’s no reason to be nervous, (Y/N). I’ve got you.” He reassures you.

“Just...don’t let go of me, okay?”

“Never.” You straighten up when you hear the faint voice of a man announcing “the arrival of his Majesty, King Hades, God of the Dead, Lord of the Underworld, accompanied by Lady (Y/N) (Y/L/N).” The doors swing open, and you stifle a gasp.

The throne room is beautifully decorated, looking every bit as rich and extravagant as you imagined a party thrown by Greek gods and goddesses would be. All eyes are on you and Michael as you descend down the grand staircase. You’re smiling, but on the inside you’re desperately repeating to yourself ‘don’t fall, don’t fall.’

“I’ve got you.” He repeats in your ear, hiding a smirk after hearing your terrified thoughts. At the bottom of the staircase, Michael commands all of the attention.

“Dear friends, thank you for joining us here in the Underworld tonight. Please, eat, drink, dance, and be merry.” You assume that this little speech is customary by the bored tone of his voice and the way everyone resumes their conversations the second Michael’s done talking.

“You did good.” You encourage, relaxing now that nobody’s looking at you.

“Funny.” He says dryly, smirking at you.

“I’m serious!” You bump shoulders with him playfully, enjoying the laugh you get from him. His smile quickly morphs into a frown, and you look around while trying to figure out what’s got him down.

“Here comes trouble.” He mutters before forcing a neutral look on his face. A small brunette with doe-eyes approaches, her gold dress trailing behind her. She smiles warmly, but you can see the hesitation in her eyes.

“Michael.” She greets warmly, hugging Michael quickly before pulling away.

“Sister.” He kisses both of her cheeks while you watch in bewilderment. Sister? “(Y/N), this is my sister, Hera.”

“I prefer to go by Violet nowadays.” She smiles at you, hugging you too. “It’s so nice to finally meet you (Y/N). After hearing my brother go on and on about you for months, I was beginning to think he’d never actually make a move.” You giggle as Michael grits his teeth.

“Violet.” He warns, but there’s no malice behind the ‘threat.’

“Ah, I was wondering where my darling wife had ran off too.” Violet stiffens, the atmosphere growing cold when a man with blonde curls (almost like Michael’s, you note) and dark eyes appears and places his hand on Violet’s shoulder. Your eyes widen when you realize that this must be the legendary Zeus.

“Tate.” Michael acknowledges Zeus’ presence with his modern name. Tate smiles coldly, dark eyes fixating on you.

“Is this the object of Michael’s affection?” Michael’s grip tightens protectively on your waist, pulling you closer to his side.

“This is (Y/N).” Tate holds out his arm, and you take his hand and let him kiss the back of it. It doesn’t feel nearly as nice as when Michael does it, and you take your hand back quickly from him.

“(Y/N). I’m Tate, Michael’s brother, brother-in-law, unwilling vessel used in his conception, you know.” You don’t know, but you nod anyways.

“It’s nice to meet you.” It’s a tense stare down between the two men, you and Violet looking at each other in worry.

“You’ll have to excuse us, Tate. As the host, I do have to greet the other guests.” Michael quips.

“Of course. Come, Violet.” Tate grabs Violet harshly, pulling her away as she waves ‘goodbye’ at you. When they’re far enough away, you let out a breath you didn’t know you were holding.

“That was…”

“Horrible? Vomit-inducing?” Michael fills in.

“Quite the experience.” You finish, not wanting to be as cruel as Michael. “I see why you got so mad at our first supper, when I called him your brother? You handle yourself extremely well around him, though.” You smile at him, watching as the rage leaves his eyes.

“You’re the only person who can manage to calm me down so easily, you know that?” You shrug bashfully.

“One of my special talents, I guess.” Michael cocks his head to the side, listening to the song the band plays.

“Care for a dance?”

“Oh, I don’t know how to dance.” You explain. Michael smirks at you, shaking his head.

“Don’t worry, just follow my lead and you’ll be fine.” Your hand intertwines with his, the other resting on his shoulder while he keeps his on your waist. You stumble a bit, apologizing profusely when you step on his toes, but soon he’s swinging you around the room, grinning as you laugh. You watch the other couples whirl around you, smiling nostalgically.

“What?” Michael questions.

“This just reminds me of a movie I used to watch when I was little. Labyrinth?” You’re not surprised when he shakes his head to let you know he doesn’t understand. “Ah, well, there was a scene where the main characters are at a masquerade ball, and they’re dancing just like this. Just reminded me of home, I guess.”

Michael looks down at you, obviously thinking about something. “I’m not sure of the extent of, or if there even will be, any consequences, but maybe we could go up Above for a visit soon?”

“You’d do that?” You ask joyfully.

“Of course I would, I-” A shriek cuts Michael off as he stops you both. The band’s playing comes to a halt, and the lights flicker as more shrieks fill the room. The doors have been blown wide open, both hanging haphazardly off of the hinges. Guests move towards the back of the throne room, trying desperately to get away from whatever threat has invaded Hell. Michael stands in front of you, so you crane your neck to get a view.

A tall figure stands at the bottom of the stairs, his head brushing against the cavernous ceilings that are at least 10 feet above you. His entire body is coal-black and moves as though it’s made of smoke, raised etchings decorating what must be considered his skin. His eyes are burning embers, and the horns that top his head shine when hit with light. Michael steps forward, shocking you. Your shock only increases when he bows his head.

“Father.” You gasp at his greeting, screams surrounding you. His father? Who is his father? You’ve never really entertained the idea of Michael’s parents. Is this Cronus, the father of the 12 main Olympians that you were taught about during (frequently-wrong) elementary school lessons? Or is this Satan himself? Zoe and Madison appear next to you, each grabbing an arm.

“Take (Y/N) to my chambers, and don’t let her out of your sight until I’m there.” They nod in agreement while you try to fight them off.

“Michael!” You protest.

“Do as I say.” He commands, looking at you with what you realize is fear. You nod, and Madison transmutates the three of you out of the throne room. You yell out in frustration after you’ve safely landed in Michael’s office, Zoe and Madison securing the premises.

“Who the fuck was that?” You question, trying to calm down before you really get angry.

“It’s...difficult to explain, but I’ll try. Basically, the so-called ‘religions’ all got some things right, and some things wrong. Even though Michael is Hades, he’s also Satan’s son. I know that it’s confusing, trust me, I’ve tried to figure this out for thousands of years but I still don’t have it all worked out.” Zoe says.

“So that was Satan?”

“Yep.”

“Is Michael going to be okay?”

“There’s no way to know for sure right now. Satan doesn’t usually show up to these sorts of events; he hasn’t even been seen for the last five centuries. The only thing to do now is wait.”

You’ve always been impatient, whether it be with test scores, appointments, or just being told to wait. You attempt to pass the time by pacing back and forth, but after twenty minutes you realize you can’t keep this up. Switching to perusing Michael’s bookshelves, another two hours pass with no sign of Michael. Zoe and Madison have remained seated on one of the couches, watching you the entire time. At some point in the early hours of the morning, you fall asleep on Michael’s bed, fully clothed and with tears of worry making tracks down your face.

The feeling of somebody touching your feet has you jolting up in a panic, ready for a fight. If there’s one thing you hate more than anything, it’s people touching your feet.

“Hey, it’s just me! Please don’t kick me!” Your eyes adjust to the dimmed lighting, finally seeing Michael crouched down in front of you.

“What the fuck were you doing?” Your half-asleep brain doesn’t even realize what’s going on right now, you’re just mad that someone woke you up.

“Your shoes were still on, I was just trying to take them off for you.” You look around the room, noticing Madison and Zoe are both gone. It takes another moment for you to realize why you fell asleep in Michael’s bedroom before you leap off the bed and into his arms.

“Michael, I was so worried! Are you okay? What happened?” You bombard him with questions. He lifts you up like you weigh nothing, laying down on the bed with you.

“I’m fine, everything’s fine. My father just picked the wrong time to stop by for a visit.”

“‘A visit?’ Madison told me he hadn’t even been seen in five hundred years.” You look at him with a frown. His hair is disheveled, and his outfit is ripped to shreds. There’s blood all over him, but the wounds have already healed. “Jesus, Michael. What did he do to you?” Your hand touches his forehead, stroking the three streaks of blood where he had obviously been scratched.

“We just had a disagreement. He’s trying to convince me to turn my back on Olympus, overthrow the system and basically unleash the apocalypse so that he can rule on Earth. It’s a fight we’ve had off and on for years.” Your mind quickly connects the dots, and you sigh.

“That’s why you needed me out of there.”

“He gave me two choices: send you back Above and ‘hope’ the prophecy works and the end of the world happens, or kill you and set it off that way.” Your blood runs cold at Satan’s ‘options’ that he’s given to his son.

“So, is-”

“I managed to banish him to Tartarus. It’s not much, and it will only hold him for a couple of weeks, but by then Madison should have found the prophecy and we can have a more concrete plan.”

“Is there anything I can do to help?”

“You can hold me?” It’s a rare moment of vulnerability, but thankfully it’s a request that you can easily handle.

“Do you want to get out of those clothes, get cleaned up or something?” He shakes his head.

“I’m just tired. We can worry about that in the morning.” The battle with his father has obviously shaken him, so you wrap your arms around him and decide to worry about the mess that’s left behind in the morning.

Tag List: @nana15774 @sammythankyou @queencocoakimmie @let-me-try-mom @trimbooohgodplsnoooo @lichellaw @sebastianshoe @pastel-cloudz @ultragibbycentralworld @grim-adventures58 @dandycandy75 @alexcornerblog @dolceandchalamet @everything-is-awesomesauce @langdonslove @ccodyfern @henrycavillstalkingmustache @readsalot73 @jimmlangdon @sloppy-little-witch-bitch26 @hplotrfan @omg-hellgirl @gallxntdean

#michael langdon #michael langdon imagine #michael langdon imagines #michael langdon x reader #Michael Langdon x you #american horror story #american horror story imagine #American horror story apocalypse #ahs #ahs apocalypse #ahs imagine #hades and persephone au #Michael Langdon au

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hanji-zoe103 · 5 years

Text

Easter Fun-LeviHan

Written by: Hanji-zoe103 (Zoe/SCV)

Characters: Levi Ackerman & Hanji Zoe

Genre: Fluff/Cute

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

Rain poured down in torrents as wind whipped through the air. Levi and Hanji were caught in the middle of this storm. They had gone out on a recon mission. Hanji, as the new Commander, had to scope out surrounding areas outside the walls. She didn’t like to take Scouts with her if it wasn’t necessary. Levi refused to let her go alone and was always by her side. The pair was on their way back to base when they got caught in the storm. Both knew they needed to find shelter.

“Hey, there’s a building over there!” Hanji yelled through the wind as she pointed.

Levi nodded. They slowly rode over there; the ground had become slick with mud making it dangerous to ride fast.

“Oi Hanji, hurry up,” Levi said.

He saw the weather was getting worse and he also noticed that Hanji was getting tired and cold. Truth be told, Levi was feeling the same, but he was more focused on Hanji.

“You need to worry about yourself too Levi,” Hanji said.

“No, I am fine,” Levi replied.

“Neither of us are fine in this situation Levi,” Hanji said.

Levi sighed but agreed. They needed to get into the shelter and it needed to be fast.

“Hanji, get inside, I’ll put the horses in the stables nearby,” Levi said.

“I’ll get a bath for us both going,” Hanji replied.

The pair split off and did the tasks they said they would. Even though the stables were very close to the small cabin, Hanji was still worried about Levi. The weather was worse and worse with thunder rumbling in the distance. Moments later, Levi came in, drenched but totally fine.

“Why are you still waiting, you should be in a warm bath Hanji,” Levi said.

“I…I was worried so I waited for you Levi,” Hanji replied.

Levi looked at her. There Hanji stood, dripping wet, shivering, muddy but worried about him when she easily could’ve take care of herself earlier. He felt something weird in his chest, was this what a crush felt like? Or love?

“Damn…how can she look so beautiful,” Levi thought.

Wait…why did he just think that?

“Levi? You there?” Hanji asked waving a hand in front of his face.

“Tch, what?” Levi replied.

Hanji smiled.

“You just zoned out there for a second,” she said.

“Tch I did not,” Levi replied.

“I was just thinking of how dirty you are.”

“You’re dirty too,” Hanji said with a smirk.

Levi frowned. She wasn’t fooled by his lie, but Hanji was the only who truly did understand him. Most times, people wouldn’t want to be near him due to his angry look or how scary he could be when angered. Hanji on the other hand, didn’t mind. She always stuck by him and Levi appreciated that. After all, they were all each other had left now.

“Come on, let’s go get cleaned up and see if we can find any clothes here,” Levi said.

Hanji nodded. The pair headed towards what they assumed was the bathroom. Levi frowned seeing it. There was a decently sized wooden wash tub, a half empty bottle of soap and two towels. The only issue was that there was no way to fill the tub from this room.

“See if you can find some clothes Hanji,” Levi said.

“I’m going to start heating up water to fill the tub with.”

“All right,” Hanji replied.

Half an hour later, Levi had the tub filled. Hanji had found a long cotton chemise, a baggy cotton shirt and a pair of loose pants. These weren’t the ideal clothes for them but they would do.

“You first,” Levi said as he motioned to the tub.

“You need to get warm as well Levi,” Hanji replied.

“It’s big enough for us both to fit. And it’s not like we haven’t seen each other naked.”

“Tch, you’ve only seen me naked when you barge into my room unannounced!” Levi said.

Hanji chuckled seeing the light blush appear on his cheeks. Levi was a very emotional person but not many saw that, only Hanji truly understood him.

“Well it’s not like I know your bathing or changing routines and times!” she said.

Levi scoffed and looked away. Hanji started to undress. She didn’t mind Levi seeing her this way. There was also the little fact that Levi used to knock her out to bathe her since Hanji tended to ignore her health and hygiene.

“Better decide Levi, waters going to get cold,” Hanji said as she removed her eye patch.

Levi muttered and started to undress. The pair got into the tub and sat back to back.

“This is perfect,” Hanji sighed happily.

“So warm!”

“I heated the water to be a little hotter than usual,” Levi replied.

Hanji pulled her hair out of the ponytail and let it fall over her shoulders.

“Your hair feels greasy as shit,” Levi said.

“Mud and rain Levi, not grease,” Hanji replied with a laugh.

“Filthy,” Levi muttered.

He began to wash her. Hanji relaxed. This was something that the two shared often. Levi bathing her and taking care of her.

Later that evening-

Hanji sat curled up by the fire reading while Levi focused on making something to eat. He noticed Hanji was very focused on the book.

“Hanji, come eat,” Levi said.

“In a minute,” Hanji replied.

She wrote down several things while reading. Levi walked over to her.

“What is so fascinating in that damn book?” he asked.

“Have you ever heard of Easter?” Hanji replied.

“No, but tell me about it over dinner,” Levi said.

He pulled Hanji up and headed over to the small wooden table. Hanji yawned and sat down. She began to nibble on the slice of bread.

“So, this “Easter”… What is it?” Levi asked.

“It’s a holiday that used to be celebrated before our time,” Hanji explained.

“It used to be a religious event but it quickly became more fun. I vaguely remember my parents talking about it once when I was a child, but never actually experienced it.”

“What do people do?” Levi asked.

“Like is it a sacrificial thing or…?”

Hanji chuckled.

“No! Not at all!” she replied.

“It was actually to celebrate life.”

“Hmm, odd holiday,” Levi muttered.

“Well, it was before the titans plagued our world so I can understand it,” Hanji replied.

“What else is part of it?” Levi asked.

“An Easter egg hunt!” Hanji said.

“A what?” Levi replied confused.

“From what I understand, people take fake eggs and fill them with sweets, also they will use painted or dyed eggs, and hide the eggs throughout homes! Then the family all gathers together and looks for the eggs!” Hanji explained.

“It sounds so fun!”

“Sounds stupid,” Levi muttered, sipping his tea.

“We should do this Levi! To boost morale of the Scouts!” Hanji suggested.

Levi was silent. He could imagine the insanity that would come from this as well as the mess and it made his eye twitch. Then looking at Hanji, made all that become a distant thought. Her smile, the joy and light in her eyes, Levi couldn’t say no.

“Okay fine, but let’s try and keep the mess down, please,” Levi said.

Hanji squealed in excitement.

“This will be great!” she exclaimed.

“Yes, yes, now eat your dinner before it gets cold,” Levi said.

Hanji happily ate. Levi was happy seeing her this way. There were times when Hanji wasn’t herself and to be honest, it broke Levi’s heart.

“Still stormy out,” he muttered, looking out the window.

“It appeared so quickly,” Hanji added.

“Lucky we found this cabin,” Levi said.

“Even luckier it’s in a safe zone,” Hanji replied.

“Agreed,” Levi said.

“It would have been quite rough had it been in a titan zone. I’d have stay up and keep watch though. You need the rest more than me.”

“Levi absolutely not,” Hanji replied.

“We would take turns being on watch.”

“Stubborn as usual,” Levi said.

“I’m being reasonable!” Hanji replied.

“I only sleep 3 or 5 hours, so therefore I wouldn’t need the sleep,” Levi said.

“Well good news is that neither of us will need to stay awake this evening,” Hanji replied.

Levi muttered.

“You’re right on that,” he said.

“I’m always right when it comes to you,” Hanji replied with a chuckle.

“Not on everything,” Levi said.

Hanji looked at him. Before Levi’s thoughts connected to what he was saying…it slipped out…

“I’m falling for you Zoë. I’ve already fallen for you,”

Hanji froze, her cheeks turning pink.

“F-falling for me?” she said.

Levi’s eyes went wide. Crap, he’d just said that, out loud, to her.

“I need to get the tea,” Levi said getting up.

He was awkward as hell when it came to romance.

“Hell, no you are not,” Hanji said, grabbing his arm.

She pulled him back down. Levi refused to look at her.

“What did you mean when you said you were falling for me?” Hanji asked.

Levi was quiet. He had no idea how to reply to this.

“Levi Ackerman,” Hanji said.

Levi took a deep breath.

“Hanji Zoe, you are an amazing woman and I’ve liked you for a while now,” he said.

Right after that, Levi kissed her. It was quite sudden but he couldn’t deny his feelings anymore. Hanji didn’t know how to react, this was so unexpected. Levi pulled away.

“Look, I understand if you don’t feel the same about me,” he said, looking away.

“Everyone says I’m damaged and not worth it.”

Hanji took his face in her hands.

“Then they are the dumbest people on this earth,” she said.

“You have the most emotion of anyone in the Scouts, you care about everyone’s safety and you want to gain freedom for all.”

Hanji leaned down and pressed her lips to his. Levi slowly kissed her back.

“I’ve liked you for a while now as well,” Hanji said.

Levi gently stroked her cheek. He felt happy. Hanji blushed.

“So…Levi Ackerman, likes the titan freak huh,” she said with a laugh.

“Tch, shut it,” Levi muttered.

Hanji smiled. Levi didn’t call her four-eyes anymore. One for out of respect and two because she had lost her vision in her left eye. Levi had great respect for Hanji and supported her as the new Commander.

“You are no freak,” Levi said.

“You are the Commander and still the best damn titan researcher I’ve ever met.”

Hanji blushed. Levi couldn’t resist and kissed her again. This time, it was soft and gentle.

“All right, time for bed,” Levi said pulling away.

“But I’m not *yawns* tired,” Hanji replied.

“Sure,” Levi said as he helped her up.

He led a sleepy Hanji to the back bedroom and got her into bed. Levi then laid next to her.

“If the storm has ceased by morning, we’ll head back to base,” Hanji said.

Levi nodded in response. He stayed awake till Hanji was sleeping peacefully.

Morning-

“Hanji, time to wake up,” Levi said gently shaking her shoulder.

“Too early,” Hanji muttered hiding her face under the pillow.

“It’s not too early, we need to get moving soon,” Levi advised.

“I made breakfast so come eat.”

Hanji sat up. Levi raised an eyebrow looking at her mess of hair. Hanji rubbed her good eye and yawned. She sleepily followed Levi out to the kitchen. They pair ate and went to get ready. Levi brushed and put Hanji’s hair into a ponytail. He also helped her put on her eyepatch. Hanji went to get their clothes that were drying in the closet.

“Uh…Levi?” she said.

“What…?” Levi grumbled.

Hanji walked back in.

“It appears a large family of mice found our clothing to be a good material to make into a nest,” she said.

Hanji held up their clothes. Levi cursed and scowled.

“How can mice be this destructive?” he grumbled.

Their clothes were practically shredded. For sure not wearable.

“Guess we’ll just have to wear the clothes we found here back to base,” Hanji said.

“You’re going to wear your ODM gear while in a dress?” Levi replied, raising an eyebrow.

“Well I’m not gonna wear it naked!” Hanji said.

“I just need to make a few adjustments, that’s all!”

She ripped the sides open. Levi averted his gaze. The crudely made splits went all the way to her upper thigh.

“Hanji…y-you can’t wear that!” Levi said.

“What else am I supposed to wear?” Hanji replied.

“Just my bra and underwear? I don’t think so.”

Levi glanced at her.

“I just need this to work until I get back to base,” Hanji said.

“We aren’t that far and if all goes well, there won’t be any titans out and about, since we are in the safe zone.”

“Tch, whatever,” Levi muttered.

“Let’s get going.”

The two got their gear on and got their horses. The ride back was thankfully uneventful. Several Scouts came running out upon seeing the Commander and the Captain’s arrival. Levi quickly assured them everything was fine and that they just got caught in a bad storm and had to stop for the evening the night before.

“Uh…commander Hanji, what are you wearing?” a male Scout asked.

“Our clothes were destroyed by mice so…we had to improvise,” Hanji replied.

Levi send a death glare at the Scout seeing him ogle Hanji’s exposed legs.

“Office, NOW.” Levi said as he pushed Hanji inside.

“Oi! Levi, chill!” Hanji replied.

“You’re exposed and need decent clothes,” Levi muttered.

“Fine, fine,” Hanji replied.

“Not to mention all those pervert male cadets looking you up and down.” Levi thought.

Hanji had to chuckle to herself. Levi was even more protective of her now that he expressed his true feelings to her.

“So, you’re still all right with the Easter idea still?” Hanji asked as Levi laid out fresh clothes for her.

“Of course, it makes you happy and anything that makes you happy is good with me,” Levi replied.

“Now, please take that ripped dress off and put on something decent!”

“Oh come now, I know you like me in this dress,” Hanji teased.

“Tch, but only for my eyes,” Levi replied.

“Not those pervert Scouts.”

“Levi!” Hanji scolded.

“I saw the men ogling you.” Levi said with a scowl.

Hanji kissed his cheek.

“You know how I feel towards you, so that’s all the matters,” she said.

“Yes, I do and I’m happy about that,” Levi replied.

“And I will help you with this Easter prep.”

Hanji smiled widely and hugged him.

“Thank you!” she said excitedly.

A week later and a half later-

It was early in the morning, before any of the Scouts were awake, Hanji was up and getting prepped for her Easter Egg Hunt. A knock on her door caused her to jump.

“It’s me,” Levi said.

“Hey,” Hanji replied.

Levi walked in carrying teacups and a teapot. He poured a cup for Hanji and handed it to her.

“So, where are you in your plans?” Levi asked.

“Just finished the eggs now to hide them throughout the base!” Hanji said.

“I’ll help you hide them,” Levi replied.

“Wonderful!” Hanji said.

“Just make sure to hide them so it’s easy enough to find.”

Hanji sipped the tea. Levi picked up one of the eggs. It was brightly colored but rough in touch.

“What are these made of and why are they rattling?” Levi asked.

“Oh, I hand carved them from wood and then painted them,” Hanji replied.

“Okay…but why are they making noise?” Levi said.

“They’re filled with some sweets!” Hanji replied.

Levi looked at her, appearing utterly confused.

“That’s part of the Easter thing! Candy filled eggs!” Hanji said.

“How do you open them?” Levi asked.

“They twist open,” Hanji explained as she showed him.

“Tch, weird,” Levi muttered.

“Come on! We gotta hide them before the others wake up!” Hanji said.

She filled up a large container with the eggs and walked out. Levi followed her out. He watches as she began to hide the eggs. Hanji placed them in little nooks and cranny’s but where the eggs were easy enough to find. Levi joined in and helped her. Hanji smiled watching him. It appeared like he was enjoying this a little. While Levi continued to hide more of the colorful, candy filled eggs, Hanji snuck off to his office and placed a special gift on his desk. Levi didn’t even notice she was gone. Granted it was only for about 10 minutes.

“All done?” Hanji asked.

“Eggs are all hidden,” Levi replied.

“Now, to leave a little note!” Hanji said cheerfully.

Levi followed her as she ran off to the main hall, where everyone would gather. Hanji quickly wrote something and placed it on the table, knowing that this is the first place the Scouts come in the morning for breakfast.

“All we have to do is wait till they’re up,” Hanji said.

Levi couldn’t help it and felt a little smile tug up at the corner of his lips.

A while later-

The Scouts woke up. Just like Hanji had predicted, they all filed into the main hall.

“What’s this?” Sasha said.

She picked up the paper.

“Well read it!” Connie said.

“It’s from Commander Hanji,” Sasha started.

“Good morning Scouts! Happy Easter!”

“Easter? What’s that?” several Scouts asked.

“Let me finish!” Sasha replied.

“Little surprises have been hidden throughout the base. If you search you shall find them!

I assure you these surprises will bring you joy and make you smile! I’ll give you a hint, they are small, round-ish, colorful and hidden all over. Good luck on your search!

Commander Hanji”

“Wonder what that means?” Connie said.

“GUYS LOOK!” a younger Scout said running in.

In his hands was one of Hanji’s handmade eggs.

“Wow!” all said.

“Where did you find it?” others asked.

“It was in a crack in the wall,” the Scout said.

“Hey! That must be what we’re looking for!” Sasha replied.

“Well let’s get looking!” Eren chimed in.

Cheerful replies echoed through the room. The Scouts ran out and began their search. Hanji was sitting in her office when she heard the excited voices of the Scouts. She smiled. This is what she had hoped for. Levi walked in moments later.

“Well, your plan seems to be working,” he said.

“Just walking down the hall, I’ve seen at least 12 of them running down the hall carrying the eggs in their hands.”

“That is wonderful to hear!” Hanji replied a large smile on her face.

Levi sat down.

“Oh! I almost forgot!” Hanji said.

She jumped up and rummaged through a drawer in her desk. Levi watched her. Hanji turned to him and walked over, plopping onto the chair next to him.

“Here,” Hanji said handing him a little note.

“What is this?” Levi asked.

“Well open it and read!” Hanji replied.

Levi muttered but did.

‘Levi, you already know my feelings for you. Even so, I left you a little gift. You will find it on your room, but I won’t say where! You must search to find it, just like you had to search for my heart. I know you’ll find it, because you found me and captured my heart.

-Hanji’

Hanji giggled watching Levi just stare at the paper.

“You know I dislike surprises,” Levi said.

“I promise you’ll like this one,” Hanji replied with a smile.

“Can’t you just tell me what it is?” Levi asked.

“No! That’s no fun!” Hanji replied.

She pushed him up and towards the door.

“I’m going, I’m going!” Levi said.

He headed down to his office. Hanji followed a little bit behind him. Levi opened his door. Upon entering the room, he saw that there were three smaller eggs sitting in the middle of his desk. Levi walked to his desk. Each egg was a real egg, that was meticulously hand painted in green and purple. Levi picked up one of the smaller eggs. It had an “L” in green on it. The next one had a heart that was like a watercolor with green and purple. The final small egg had an “H” in purple painted on it. Levi turned to look at Hanji. There was a light blush on her cheeks but she was smiling. Levi walked to her.

“Happy Easter Levi,” Hanji said.

Levi tangled his fingers in her hair and pulled her to him. He kissed her gently and she kissed him back.

“Happy Easter Hanji,” Levi said.

“I have one more surprise,” Hanji replied.

She pulled out a small round bag. Levi’s eyes went wide.

“Those were…” he said.

“Yes, Isabel’s favorite sweets,” Hanji replied.

“I wanted to get you something really special and this was the first thing that I could think of. They are hard to find now-and-days.”

Levi reached up and touched her cheek.

“Thank you,” he said.

“But, I have something even more special.”

Hanji looked at him.

“You, Hanji Zoë,” Levi said.

Hanji blushed a lot as a huge smile spread across her lips. She threw her arms around him.

“As do I,” Hanji said.

“You, Levi Ackerman.”

Levi smiled and hugged her back. Later that day, the two sat and watched the sunset while enjoying the sweets that Hanji had given Levi. It was a perfect way to end the day.

-Happy Easter-

#levihan #levihaneggschange 2k19 #hanji zoe #hanji zoë #levi ackerman #snk #attackontitan #levihaneggschange

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mamaimpala67 · 6 years

Text

Supernatural Preferences: You Hang Out/Work Together

Dean Winchester

“No, no, no, no…” You said, shaking your head vigorously, your finger pointing to Dean as you disagreed with him. “That is, by far, the dumbest thing that you could have ever said, and everything you say is stupid.”

“Oh, really?” Dean asked and raised his brows. “Please, princess, enlighten me. How is my plan stupid?” Dean stood up straight, crossing his arms and glaring at you.

It was the second hunt that you and the Winchesters were working on together. The three of you took down the werewolf quite well the first time and a part of you didn’t really think that it was a bad idea to team up with them again. Now that you and the eldest Winchester were trying to figure out what the plan of attack was, you were starting to rethink your judgement. So far, it wasn’t going well.

“Well, one: the vamps changed their base. They switched from the back to the front of the house so that they can keep a better look out…”

“And how do you know that?”

“I went there last night, asshole.” You growled. “I saw that they changed. Now let me finish talking.” Dean opened his mouth, but then closed it. “Two: this is completely illogical. Why would you use me as bait? I’m stronger than you and Sam combined!”

“You’re a great distraction!” Dean said and raised his brows.

“How!?” You practically screamed, clenching your fist, getting in his face. Your nose was scrunched up.

“Isn’t it that time of the month?”

You froze, a blush unintentionally breaking out on your face. You narrowed your eyes. “Excuse me?” You voice was deep and scratchy.

“The blood will distract them.”

It was almost as if a vein popped inside of your eyes. Your eyes widened and your face turned a dark shade of red. You grabbed him by the collar and pulled him close so that your noses were pressed against one another. Dean raised his brows.

“You listen here you prick,” You growled. Your eyes were bright red. “Don’t you ever talk about me like that again, do you understand!?”

“Hey, hey, hey, hey, woah!” Sam shouted as he ran into the room. He pulled Dean away from you. You tried to attack him again. Sam, however, kept you back. “What is wrong with you?” Sam asked.

“He’s being a fucking asshole!” You said and pointed to Dean.

“Me!? How!?”

“Your plan is ignorant.”

“And yours is any better?”

“Mine is more logical! I know more than you!”

“Guys!” Sam shouted.

You and Dena both looked up at Sam. Sam glanced between his brother and yourself. “The vampires moved.”

“What?” You breathed and frowned, your shoulders slouching.

“Yeah, I went out to scout an hour ago and they were just gone.”

“Gone?” You asked.

“Gone.” Sam confirmed.

You sighed heavily and looked down. You turned around and knocked your water bottle off of the table, growling.

Dean shook his head. “Yeah, your plan sounds completely logical.”

“Shut the fuck up!” You shouted before you stormed out of the room.

Sam Winchester

“Yeah, I finished it…” You trailed, glancing at the new title that you were reading. You then glanced at the computer screen. You were skyping Sam and talking - a bit awkwardly - about the book that you had been reading the time that the two of you met - about four weeks ago. “Like..a week after you left.”

“Wow, really?” Sam asked and cocked his head to the side. God, you thought it was adorable the way that his hair moved every time he did.

Did I really just think that?, you thought to yourself.

“You pick up anything else?” You asked and reached over, grabbing your drink. You sipped on it through a rainbow straw. Sam smiled adorably.

“No, Dean and I aren’t going to be here all that long so I can’t go to the library. Plus there aren’t any bookstores around.”

“Tell me where you’re going next and I’ll ship one to you.” You giggled.

“No,” Sam shook his head. “I’m fine. I’ll survive.”

“No, tell me.”

“No.”

“Yes.”

“No.”

“Yes.”

“No.”

Pause.

“When are you coming back?” You asked, bringing your knees up to your chest and setting your cheek on them.

Sam sighed and the smile on his face vanished. He looked down and then up at the camera. “I don’t know.” He said and shrugged.

“I mean,” You sighed. “I know you told me not to ask, but I want to actually hang out with you.”

“I know you do (Y/N),” Sam let out a breathy chuckle.

“Then come back, even if it is just for a day.” You smiled.

“I can’t.” Sam shook his head. “I don’t dictate where we go.”

You slowly nodded your head and looked down, suddenly feeling embarrassed with yourself for making such a big deal out of him coming back and the two of you hanging out. Made you seem childish and rather immature. Of course Sam isn’t going to drop everything with his brother to go see you. How stupid could you actually be.

You shook your head. “I gotta go.”

“Wait, (Y/N), don’t…” Sam said, trailing.

“I’ll see ya.” You said and clicked your mouse, ending the call. You shut your computer and sighed, grabbing your book in some hope to get him off your mind.

Castiel Novak

You were dreaming again. It was almost as if it was the one thing that you were looking forward to every day, not only because it allowed you to escape from the life that you lived, but you could see your new companion: Castiel. Even though you were far too convinced that he was merely an illusion and an individual that you made up in order to have at least one friend to talk to.

Every time that you fell asleep, the setting would change. Lucid dreaming was not something that you were gifted before, but you were able to change the settings, what other people were doing, but you were somehow not able to change what Castiel would say or do. It wasn’t like you tried after the first time, though. You adored how authentic his words were and how random the conversation would always be.

The smell of popcorn filled your nostrils as you and Castiel walked through your dream theme park. Your arms were linked and you were looking around at the different rides and kiosks that were around. Castiel took you to the end of the dock and looked out over the large ocean.

“It’s just as beautiful as the real world.” Castiel stated.

You smiled and nodded. “I have, sort of, a realistic imagination.”

“A beautiful one.”

You blushed. “Thank you.” You leaned your head against his shoulder.

Castiel looked down at you and smiled lightly. Castiel glanced down at his phone that was peeking out of his suit pocket. He took it out and looked at the time. He sighed and placed it back.

“You are getting ready to wake up.”

You shook your head. “No,” You said. “Just a little longer.”

“I do not control that, (Y/N).” Castiel said and raised his brows.

“I know, but…” You trailed. “Let’s go ahead and ride something.”

“Ride something?”

“Yeah, like...like the carousel.” You said. “It’s been so long since I’ve been on one.”

“If you want to, we can.”

“Alright, let’s go!” You exclaimed as you grabbed Castiel by his hand and pulled him alongside you, smiling widely.

Castiel was dragged behind you to the large circular ride that was going rather slow. Once you got there, you saw the people who were waiting in line slowly vanish from right in front of you. You then giggled and ran to the gate. The man at the gate opened it up and the ride stopped. An empty cart appeared and the attendant gestured for you and Castiel to enter. You scooted into the cart and Castiel sat down next to you. The man closed the cart and walked back to the control panel. He pressed a button and the ride began to move again.

A smile appeared on your lips as you felt the cart moved. You giggled and smiled as you watched you and Castiel rise up, further from the ground. You were able to stare off into the horizon and see more of the ocean that was surrounding the carnival. Castiel leaned forward and stared off into the distance. He cocked his head to the side.

“It is just as beautiful as it was down below. More beautiful.” He nodded slowly.

“Yeah, it is.” You said. “I like these times together. When we hang out.” You leaned forward, against the bar and leaned your head on your folded hands. “You’re my only friend.”

Castiel raised his brows and glanced over at you. “I...am?” He asked.

You glanced at him and nodded. “Yeah.” You said. “It may sound, you know, a bit depressing, and stuff like that, but it’s true.” You nodded. You sat up straight.

Castiel swallowed. “It doesn’t sound depressing. I know that the life of a hunter can be lonely and filled with solitude. I like being your friend.”

“You do?” You asked.

“Yes, I do.”

You smiled and blushed brightly, your cheeks turning a fluorescent pink color. You leaned your head against his shoulder and closed your eyes. Castiel stared down at you and then down at his own feet. He smiled in an adorable way before he placed his hand over yours, grasping it lightly. You smiled lightly and giggled. The two of you rode the carousel until you awoke in the morning.

John Winchester

The cheap chicken fried steak sounded absolutely delicious to you. After a hunt, some cheap piece of frozen meat and mashed potatoes with brown gravy on top of it sounded delectable, making your stomach growl. Just the thought about it made your mouth water. After you ordered your chicken fried steak and beer, you sat there and grabbed out a small journal that you kept in a miniature bag that you carried around everywhere. You placed your reading glasses on your face. You opened it up to the newest page and began to write.

1-06-89

I traveled to Michigan to take care of a vampire hunt. It took two days at the least. They were weak and vulnerable and outcasts. I could see why. But after the hunt, I have come here to Marie’s, a diner that’s at the corner of town. I have ordered the chicken fried steak and mashed potatoes. I can’t wait to eat it.

The bell on the door rang, which immediately got your attention. You glanced up and a smirk slowly appeared on your lips. John Winchester was walking towards the counter. He sat down and folded his arms on the counter. You bit your lip and stood up. You walked over to John and placed your hand on his shoulder.

“Hey,” You said.

John immediately turned to you and slowly smiled once he saw you. “Hey.”

You held out your hand and John took it, shaking it. “Come on and sit with me in my booth.”

John nodded and got up from the counter and walked to the booth that you were sitting at. He sat on the opposite side of you.

“Gosh, it’s been only a month since I last saw you. What’re you doing here?”

“Well, I heard about a vampire nest near here, but when I went to look, I saw that the house had been burnt to the ground. I thought, ‘damn, another hunter got it’.” He slowly smirked. “Was that hunter you?”

You smiled. “Yeah.”

“Was it difficult?”

“Nope.” You shook your head. “I mean, they were outcasts. Weak and ignorant.”

“Those are always the best.” John shook his head.

The waitress came back over with your beer in her hand. She set it down on the table in front of you. You looked up at her. “Thank you.” You said. “And, can I get another one for my friend here?” You took the beer by the neck of it and drank a swig.

“Sure thing.” She said and gave a small nod before she walked off.

“I probably shouldn’t drink.” John shook his head.

“Come on, John. One beer. On me.” You smirked.

John sighed. “Fine.” He chuckled.

“Go ahead and order something while you’re at it.” You said.

John raised his brows. “You win the lottery or something?”

“You don’t need to win the lottery, jerk.” You chuckled. “This place is cheap and,” You leaned forward so that you could easily whisper to him. “It’s not that hard to get fake credit cards.” You chuckled.

John smirked. “I know.”

You leaned back and took another drink. The waitress came by with John’s beer and took his order of a cheeseburger and fries and that was when the two of you began to talk more. More about your personal lives than anything. You learned about his two kids, Sam and Dean, who were really young, but he didn’t say anything about a wife or an ex-wife, so it might have been a touchy subject and you didn’t question it.

While you, however, told him about your past with college and hunting and the distant relatives that you visit every now and then. John seemed interested, looking into your eyes the entire time you spoke. When you finished, the food arrived. You smiled and began to eat. You hummed and raised your brows.

“Wow,” You trailed. “This is really good.”

You looked up and watched John take a bite of the cheeseburger. When he pulled away, chewing on the piece that he had, you noticed the small piece of mustard that decorated his beard. You chuckled lightly. John cocked a brow at you.

“What?” He mumbled.

“You have something on your face.”

John wiped the opposite side of his face. You shook your head and grabbed a napkin, reaching over and wiping it away from his beard. You showed it to him before setting it beside him.

“Thanks.” He said and chuckled.

“No problem.” You took a bite of the food.

As you ate, you and John small talked. He even talked to you about connecting for a hunt, which is something that the two of you have talked about the previous time you met. When you two finished eating, you hummed.

“Let me buy supper for your boys.” You said.

“Excuse me?’

“Why don’t you take some food home for your boys? I’ll even buy them a pie.”

“You don’t have to do that.” He shook his head.

“I know I don’t have to, but let me do it.” You said. “Maybe if we become well known, then I will be able to meet them.”

John hummed and shrugged. “Maybe.” He spoke, but he didn’t sound convincing.

You nodded. “Go ahead and order for them.”

John glanced up at you, looking down, and then nodded. He grabbed the menu, ordered two meals, and a whole pie. You didn’t mind. You wanted to pay for the children’s meals, especially since they knew about the monsters - at least you knew that Dean did, his oldest. No child should know about that. It was depressing. Of course you weren’t going to comment about it to John. He was the one person who you found interesting on hunts. Those horrible one-night-standers are, about ninety percent of the time, desperate and on the run. Never had you had time to sit down and have a chat with a stranger that you felt connected with, so it was a breath of relief when you were able to sit down with someone familiar and eat a meal together.

The waitress came back with two containers and a carton full of pie. You gave her your card and she went and swiped it, paying for the meal that you and John ate and the meal that his boys were going to eat. She later came back with the card and the receipt.

“How much did the boy’s meals come to?” He asked.

“None of your business.” You smiled and put the receipt in your pocket.

“Come on, let me pay you back.” He said.

“No.” You told him. “I’ll make a deal with you, though.”

“Alright, I’m listening.”

“The next time that we meet, you can repay me in any way you like.” You said, leaning forward and raising your brows.

John raised his brows as well. “Oh, really?” He asked.

“Yeah.” You nodded.

John slowly nodded. “Alright, it’s a deal.”

“Shake on it?” You asked and held out your right hand.

John took your hand and shook it. “Deal.” John retracted his hand and stretched.

John stood up and grabbed the bag full of food.

“I guess I will see you later, then.” He said.

“Yeah, I’ll see ya.” You nodded and smiled.

John turned and gave you a small wave one last time before he left the diner, the bell ringing on his way out. You bit your lip and grabbed your journal.

Marie’s is a wonderful little diner. Great food. It was such a coincidence that I found John Winchester in this place. Such a relief too. I would definitely love to work with him one of these days.

The bell to the door rang again and you perked your head up. John Winchester was rushing back to you.

“I just got a call from a friend of mine that says he may or may not have a ghost problem. I could use some help. Want to come with?”

You raised your brows and nodded. “Where?”

“South Carolina.”

You smirked. “I’ll be right behind you.”

“Great.” He said with no expression visible on his face. “Be quick.” He turned and left again.

You smiled and turned back to your journal.

Update: I’m going to be working a ghost hunt with John Winchester next. Now is the time for me to see how he works. This is going to be fun.

You closed your journal and put it back in your bag before you got out and ran to your car, getting in, and turning it on. You saw John Winchester in the black Impala that was absolutely beautiful. You pulled your car out and followed him closely.

Crowley

“Are you asking me on a date?” You questioned, your phone pressed against your ear and a bowl of popcorn in your lap.

“Oh, no, you misunderstand me, darling.” Crowley spoke from the other side of the line. “I simply want to take you out to dinner. Is that too much to ask?” Crowley never sounded irritated when the two of you spoke on the phone, despite the fact that his words could be taken as such if his tone of voice were different.

“Of course not.” You mumbled. “I was just...you know...asking.” You took some popcorn into your mouth.

“No, just a night out. You and I. How does that sound?”

“Sounds awesome.” You said. “When?”

“Eight o’clock tonight.”

You mentally cursed yourself. You had a date with Brad Pitt that night in World War Z, but it seems like you would have to cancel. Brad can wait. “Yeah, that’s fine. What should I wear?”

“Just a dress.” He nodded. “Either way, you’ll look marvelous.”

“Aw, thanks.” You chuckled. “Alright. I’ll text you my address.”

“Alright, darling. I’ll see you at eight.”

“I’ll see you then.” You agreed and hung up your phone, setting it beside you. You sighed. ‘Yeah, here’s my address, make sure you don’t come in and kill me.” You joked with yourself and rolled your eyes. You checked the time. It was about three that afternoon. You shrugged. “I think I have time for one date with Brad Pitt.” You smirked and grabbed your remote, turning on the movie that you had in the DVD player.

Around six o’clock, you began to get ready for your night out - you had to keep reminding yourself that it wasn’t a date, but rather a friendly dinner between two people. You wore a casual looking summer dress that was red in color and was draped all the way down to your knees. You wore black high heels to accompany it. The make-up on your face with impactful, but minimal. Your hair was brushed back and over your shoulder and gently cascaded down your chest.

By the time you were ready, it was a quarter to eight. You sat on the couch and watched some television of something that wasn’t particularly intriguing to you, but passed the time. Around eight o’clock, the sound of a knock on your door echoed through the apartment. You stood up, brushed yourself off, checked yourself in the mirror, then opened the door. Crowley stood there with a rose in his hand and a smile on his face.

You raised your brows and looked at the flower.

“This is for you.” He said and held it out towards you.

You smiled lovingly. “Thank you.” You said and took it, smelling it. The aroma was intoxicating.

“A beautiful flower for a beautiful girl.” He said and smirked.

“Are you positive that this isn’t a date.” You blushed, red covering your entire face.

“I am sure.” He chuckled.

“Okay, I’ll believe you. Just let me go put this inside and I’ll be right back.” You said and rushed inside to put the rose on your kitchen counter, making a mental note that you needed to put it in water before the day was up. You then hurried back to Crowley, grabbed your apartment keys, and closed your door.

“You ready to go?”

“Yeah, ready.” You said.

Crowley took your arm and linked it with his before he led you out of the apartment building.

The restaurant was quiet and rather romantic to the point where your cheeks were heated up ever since you walked into the location. You ordered your food and Crowley did as well. Two glasses of red wine were in front of you both. As you ate, you sipped on the drink lightly.

“Wow, you know, Crowley,” You let out a breath as you set the wine glass down next to the plate. “This is all, really, extravagant. I mean, I don’t deserve this. You don’t have to do this for me.”

“I know that I don’t have to.” He said and swirled the red liquid inside of his glass. “But when it comes to you deserving this, you do.” He nodded.

“No, I-”

“Do.” He smirked and winked.

You chuckled and rolled your eyes, taking a bite of your food. It was then that you noticed that Crowley hadn’t touched any of his food. You frowned a bit and cocked your head to the side.

“Are you alright Crowley?’ You asked.

“Of course I am, darling.” He nodded. “Why do you ask?”

“You haven’t touched any of your food.”

Crowley looked down at the food and then glanced back up at you, not showing any expression. He reached over and took one of your hands with both of his. “I’m alright.” He said.

You nodded slowly. “Alright,” You said. “Just wanted to make sure.”

Crowley nodded before he sat back in his seat and you slowly began to eat again. It wasn’t long before you finished your meal, with small talk between you and Crowley in between with him mostly asking questions about you and interrupting as you began to ask questions about him, or at least when he thought you were going to. Of course, you always showed eagerness when you answered his questions and smiled as brightly as the sun.

When the waiter came by, collected the money for the check, and took your plates away, Crowley stood up, walking back over to you. He held out his hand for you and you gratefully took it, smiling faintly. You stood and Crowley escorted you out of the restaurant. The two of you walk in the wonderful night to your apartment, goosebumps appearing on your arms from the wind that ran through your hair with a slight chill to it. Crowley felt you shiver under his gentle touch and pulled away from you. He pulled off his long black coat and handed it to you.

“No, I’m alright.” You nodded lightly.

“Put it on.” He said in a flat tone and raised his brows.

You glanced between him and the coat and sighed lightly. You took it and put it around yourself, the material from the coat instantly warming your exposed skin. You smiled.

“Thank you.”

“Don’t mention it darling.” He said as he took your hand and walked you home, pulling you close.

Gabriel

Everyone in the club had gone home for the night except for you and the bartender. You sat at the piano, slouched over it, placing the same A note over and over in slow moderation. Your eyes were closed and the key was the only thing that's keeping you awake. It wasn’t until a firm tap on your shoulder caused you to jerk up. When you looked up, you expected to see the bartender, but instead, you saw Gabriel standing next to the piano bench. He gestured to it.

“Is this seat taken?’ He asked and raised his brows.

You tired looked him up and down and shook your head, scooting down further so that you were arranged near the bass section of the instrument. He sat down next to you.

“What’re-” You both said in unison. You glanced at him and then looked down.

“You can go ahead.” Gabriel said and nodded.

“No, no, you.” You said and yawned.

“You.” He persisted.

You sighed and nodded. “What’re you doing here?’

“I was going to ask the same thing.”

“You answer first.” You said, eyelids drooping halfway down your eyes.

“Alright, I wanted to come back and see you.” He said. “Now, you.”

“Oh, they wanted me to keep playing. Again, and again, and again…”

“You should’ve left a while ago. You look exhausted.”

“I am.” You said. “But look at that tip jar.”

You gestured to the glass jar that was on the edge of the stage. Gabriel glanced, seeing that it was practically overflowing with change and bills. There was even a smaller one next to it that was halfway filled.

“I haven’t counted it yet, but I’m guessing around hundred-twenty.” You nodded and covered your mouth as you yawned once again.

“Wow, that’s good.”

“It is.” You nodded. “It may even be more. God, I hope it’s more.” You breathed and shook your head. “I just need rent money.”

“How much more do you need?”

“Not much,” You replied. “Just, like, a little over seventy-five dollars, give or take. But it would be nice to be able to get a head start on next month.”

Gabriel nodded as he pressed a finger against the G note. He pressed it once or twice. “Can you play me something?”

You raised your brows and looked at him. “You want me to?” You asked. “Sure, I can. Um...what kind of song do you want? Or...what song do you want?”

“How about something that you first learned.” He said and placed both hands flat on his sides.

“I first learned?” You asked and cocked your head to the side.

“Yeah.”

“Geez, I don’t know if I can remember all the way back then.”

Gabriel chuckled lightly as you shifted slightly towards the center of the chair so that your fingers were resting in the middle of the keys. After thinking for several seconds, you began to play, keeping your eyes on your fingers as you did so. Gabriel studied the way that you played. Once he could recognized the tune, he slowly smiled. You turned to him, the same smile on your lips and the tired look slowly vanishing from your face as you did.

Just a small town girl

Living in a lonely world

She took the midnight train

Going anywhere

Just a city boy

Born and raised in south Detroit

He took the midnight train

Going anywhere

A singer in a smoky room

The smell of wine and cheap perfume

For a smile, they can share the night

It goes on and on and on and on

Strangers waiting

Up and down the boulevard

Their shadows searching in the night

Streetlights, people,

Living just to find emotion

Hiding somewhere in the night!

You couldn’t help but giggle as you continued to sing. However, as you were getting ready to sing the second verse, you heard the voice of the bartender.

“Hey!” He called out from the bar next to the stage.

You and Gabriel both glanced at the heavyweight bartender with a bushy mustache that hid his upper lip while his bottom one was pushed out.

“It’s time to go home (Y/N).” He said, looking towards the door. He then glanced back at you.

You nodded. “Alright Phil,” You said and looked at Gabriel. “Looks like we gotta go.” You said and stood up, walking to the jars. You took all of the money that was in the jars and placed them inside of your pockets and some of the bills in your wallet.

Gabriel stood up and brushed his shirt off. “You need me to take you to your car?” He asked and smiled.

You hummed and looked at him. “It’s right outside, but sure.” You shrugged and watched as Gabriel held out his hand and smiled. You took it and chuckled.

Gabriel walked you off the stage and then through the clean - as clean as it’s going to get - bar. When you walked outside, the cool air kept you awake. You glanced around and spotted your car in the deserted parking lot. You pointed to it.

“There,” You commented.

Gabriel saw the car and walked you over, standing up straight. To you, he looked as if he was trying to be intimidating. You chuckled. You grabbed your keys from your pocket and unlocked the door. You opened it.

“Thanks Gabriel.” You said and hugged him lightly. You kissed his cheek.

“Stay safe.” He said.

“I will, you too.” You got into the driver’s side of the car and closed the door. You waved at Gabriel through the window and smiled. He waved back as well before he walked away. With that, you drove off towards your apartment.

Charlie Bradbury

The blanket was draped over your back and the bowl of popcorn was in your lap. Charlie was on the opposite end of the couch in night pants and a tank top. You were in your night shorts and oversized tee. On the television was the main menu for the first Harry Potter movie. You put your hand up and set the popcorn bowl on the floor.

“Wait, wait.” You said. “I gotta go to the bathroom.” You said and stood, pulling up your shorts.

“Alright, well, hurry.” She said and chuckled. “I’ll get some candy for us to share. You got any allergies?’

“Nope.” You said. ‘Not that I know of. So, if we discover one, I’m suing you.” You pointed to her and chuckled.

Charlie stuck her tongue out at you and you giggled, rushing to her bathroom.

It was about the fifth time that you had decided to spend the night at Charlie’s flat while she had stayed at yours six or seven times within the past two or three months. Your friendship has grown for a while and the two of you would admit to each other over and over that you were glad that you had met one another when you did. The two of you just seemed to have a natural connection.

Once you finished and washed your hands, you quickly ran to her room and grabbed your overnight bag. You searched through it and grabbed out your Slytherin socks that reached up to your knees. You put them on and smiled before you walked back out and saw Charlie with a bag full of candy - you assumed.

“Check these out.” You said and flashed Charlie the knee-highs, smiling.

Charlie looked at the socks and smiled. “That’s hot.” She said.

You walked over to her and slapped her arm lightly. “I forgot that I brought them.”

“Glad you did, though.” Charlie nodded and hesitated before she continued. “Movie marathon. It’s almost like you have a sixth sense.”

“Gosh, maybe I do!” You said and grabbed the blanket, pulling it over your chin and covered your mouth before bringing it back down. “I see dead people.”

Charlie rolled her eyes and chuckled before she slapped your shoulder. “Stop. Grab the popcorn.”

You nodded and grabbed the popcorn bowl, putting it in your lap so that Charlie could start the movie. She did just that, leaning back in her spot and pressing the ‘play’ button on her remote.

For an hour, the two of you sat there and watched the show. When it was nearing the end - an event that you had seen approximately hundreds of times before - you took a piece of popcorn that was still left in the bowl and gently tossed it at Charlie. Charlie glanced at the piece of food and furrowed her brows. You smiled and tossed another one at her. Charlie glanced at you and you saw a mischievous smile spread across her face before she took some of the gummy worms that were left over and tossed them at you. You yelped as you felt the rain of gummy candy on you. Charlie raised her brow, as if challenging you.

Oh, it’s on now.

You took a handful of popcorn and kernels and chucked them at her. She yelped and began to throw candy at you. The two of you continued to throw food at one another until the couch and the floor were completely covered in food. When the two of you were out of ammunition, you stopped and you set the bowl on the floor and she threw the paper containers on the floor. You and Charlie laughed hysterically and, slowly, the two of you calmed down, your stomachs aching in pain from all the laughter. As soon as the two of you stopped and completely disregarded the movie, Charlie sighed.

“We gotta clean this up.” She said.

“Yeah…” You trailed and stared at a single spot in the entire mess.

After a moment of silence between the two of you, Charlie pushed herself off the couch. “I’ll get the vacuum.” She said.

“I’ll get the trash can.” You told her as you got up as well.

She walked into the hallway while you walked into the kitchen. You grabbed the small trash can that she kept underneath the sink and met her back in the living room. The two of you smiled and chuckled under your breaths as you began to clean up the mess that you made.

#Supernatural Preferences #You hang Out #You Work Together #Part 3 #Charlie Bradbury #Dean Winchester #Sam Winchester #Castiel Novak #Gabriel #John Winchester #Crowley #mamaimpala67

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btobsmuff-blog · 7 years

Text

Farewell

Pairing: Changsub/Reader

Prompt: You get into a heated discussion with the person in the passenger seat.

a/n: shout out to my love @k0ntz for the request!

Marriage should always be about two people who love each other, regardless. It should never about two companies trying to save each other so they end up having their two children, basically strangers to one another, get married. You cannot believe it’s already 2017 and things like these still happen. This should only happen in movies, you thought.

Well the thing is, this whole situation is far worse than just two people who have zero love for each other. Why? It’s because you DO love the guy your parents made you marry. But he was in a relationship with another girl before this whole stupid marriage happened, and you can only feel sorry you had to ruin things for them.

“I’m such a horrible person.” You cussed out while packing your things. “But at least I’m finally doing the right thing, yeah?”

Tonight you made a decision to leave Changsub, your husband of 3 years. You’re not really planning to tell him upfront. You don’t have the heart to. It’s probably the dumbest thing to just leave your husband while he’s asleep but you’re almost full sure he’s not going to mind anyway. Heck, he’d probably glad if you do.

For the first part of your marriage, he’d constantly say he needed to work overtime. You’d pull a forced smile because you know he went to see Chorong, anyway. He loved her. I mean, why wouldn’t he? She’s beautiful and kind. You know they still go on dates and talk on the phone until dawn. You’re nothing but a monster that’s keeping them apart. Although, oddly, the last few months of your marriage, Changsub has been sweeter and nicer to you. He’s been going home earlier and on his phone less, too.

“I probably just gotten so used to it that it didn’t mind it anymore?” you thought.

No.

You lied.

You lied to nobody but yourself.

Why do you do this to yourself? Why are you denying the love he’s been giving? It’s all what you wanted anyway so why?

“Good evening my lovely wife” he said as he put his arms around your waist and kissed your cheek. You love how he’s warm body melts on to you but you broke that thought immediately.

“You’re home early.” You forced a smile. “Probably, Chorong’s busy and couldn’t meet up with him?” you thought.

You loved short intimate moments like this. His arms around your tiny waist. His head resting on the crook of your neck. But here you go again. Self-destructing.

“Get real, Y/N. Surely, he’s just longing for her and imagining it is her he’s hugging.” You battled with yourself.

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

You and Changsub had light dinner and quick shower before settling down in the expensive king sized bed.

Breathe in.

Breathe out.

Cold feet.

Cold hands.

Here we go.

No more turning back.

The moment he falls fast asleep.

It will be goodbye.

“Good night, Y/N. I love you.” He said so deep and slow it almost felt sincere.

“Good night, Changsub.” You replied as he pouts.

“And?” he raised an eyebrow.

“I…I love you too” you whispered. You wouldn’t dare look into his eyes. It will just make everything harder for you. It will be harder to push through with your plan.

Lately, he loves wrapping you with his arms as you both sleep and he gets whiny whenever a tiny gap will grow between you and his body. But thank God he’s sleeping heavily tonight. He must be tired.

You took a last look at him.

How his soft features seems even way softer as he sleeps.

How his chest rises and falls.

How his hair is getting all messed up.

You mentally thanked him for all the pretend love he showed you.

It must have been hard for him to be with someone he doesn’t love.

You held back your tears as you carefully, very very carefully, stood up from the bed.

You took out the luggage you hid in the storage room and went out of the house as quickly as possible. Faster than lightning. Like a bullet on a pistol. That fast. And that fucking painful, too. Not leaving time for yourself to rethink your actions.

Farewell husband.

I mean...ex-husband.

--------

“Love?” Changsub’s face scrunched up only to find an empty spot next to him.

He hates having to wake up to the sound of the alarm. He’d rather have your sweet voice telling him to get up because breakfast is ready.

He shot up out of the bed as he felt the house seems…quieter?

That’s odd.

He went to the kitchen to look for you but he felt something wrong.

Your wedding pictures are nowhere to be found.

Your slippers weren’t there.

You weren’t there.

No traces of you.

As if you were never there.

He ran up to the bedroom. The room you used to share with him until last night.

He saw a piece of paper in the nightstand beside the lamp.

He felt stupid for not noticing earlier.

A sharp, very deep and sharp, pain was felt in his chest as he lifted the papers up.

There were 3 pages. One was your farewell note, and the last two are divorce papers. Divorce fucking papers.

Changsub massaged his head as he grab a handful of hair, not really understanding all of this.

“Lee Changsub,

I’m sorry our marriage had to end this way. Actually, I’m even more sorry we had to get married in the first place. I don’t want to ruin things for you and Chorong anymore. I know how much you love her. I feel nothing but guilt every time you had to go home to me when you could have been heading home to her. I’m really sorry. I truly am. Please sign the papers behind and I’ll explain to our parents everything, don’t worry.”

Sincerely,

Kim Y/N”

For some reason, you using your real last name hurts him even more. He wanted you to use Lee. Why shouldn’t you? You’re his wife. You have every legal right to use it.

Without even fixing himself, he stormed out of the house and hopped on his car. He doesn’t even know where to start looking for you, but he’s willing to drive to wherever you are. He was mad. He was furious. He’s lost for words.

“What are you even thinking about, Y/N?!?” he shouted inside his car. Talking to an imaginary you.

He searched highs and lows for you. He didn’t notice he’s been driving the whole day searching for you. He only noticed when the surroundings went dark and his tummy grumbled in hunger. It’s a little bit past midnight anyway. He pulled over to the side of the street and grabbed his hair with both hands. Groaning in frustration.

“Think Changsub, think!” he closed his eyes shut, thinking of all the places where you could be. “Underground Café!” he shouted. His face lit up.

Of course. Why wouldn’t you be at your favorite coffee shop?

He drove fast to where the café was. It’s probably a solid 45-minute drive and upon arriving, he did nothing but scan the whole place.

There.

He spotted you there.

He saw you.

Leaning your head against the glass window.

He grew mad.

At you? No.

At himself. For not knowing how it pained you knowing he’s been cheating on the beginning of your marriage.

Well okay. He was kinda mad at you too.

He stormed inside the café towards you.

“Care to explain?” he said holding the now crumpled up divorce papers. Anger and confusion written on his face and you could sense he was holding back his tears.

You cleared your throat as the tension between the two of you builds up.

“You shouldn’t really mess up legal documents, Changsub. Now I have to get a new one.” You said firmly. As emotionless as possible. Cold. Ice cold.

And that made Changsub grow hotter with anger.

He grabbed you by the wrist and walked you out of the café and into his car.

“Seriously Changsub, if you’re afraid of what are parents will say, don’t worry I’ll explain everything to them! This will not affect the company!” you said almost shouting as he continues to drive with one hand, the other massaging his temples with elbows resting on the driver seat’s window.

He glared at you for a brief second before returning his focus on the road. His eyes growing red.

Did you just see tears?

“Can you pull over please? I don’t want to go back to our…your house” you corrected yourself.

He did. He stopped the car and looked at you again.

“I’m doing this for your happiness, Changsub” you said even before he could speak.

“Well what the fuck do you know about my happiness?!” he shouted. You swallowed hard not really prepared with this angry Changsub in front of you.

“I know you still love Chorong, okay? I don’t want to burden you anymore!” you gave up. Your tears gave up. You felt weak and stupid for crying in front of him.

“Then that means you don’t know anything!” he argued back.

You fell silent. This was not what you expected. You envisioned him signing the divorce papers and going back to the love of his life. And you moving on from all of this. That’s it.

“Do you know-“ he choked. His tears disabling him from speaking. “How it feels waking up and realizing your wife is not there anymore?”

You fell silent.

“Do you understand…how scared I was when I realized…your pictures and clothes are not in the house anymore?” he said in between sobs. His face completely red.

“Do you know how broken hearted I was with the note you left me asking me to sign those stupid divorce papers??” pain written all over his face as he cried harder, resting his head on the steering wheel.

You rubbed his back. Stupid move. You think you can ease all the pain you caused with that?

“I’m sorry if I still continued seeing her after our marriage but I’ve forgotten about her already. I only love you now, Y/N. And I’m sure it’s you I want to spent the rest of my life with.” He took your hand that was on his back a while ago and kissed it.

“The way you take care of me with coffee in the morning and delicious dinner was more than enough for me to fall in love with you. I would be the biggest dumb ass if I let you go…” he said slightly forcing a smile.

“I tried my best to make our marriage happy. To make you happy. That’s why I was so broken hearted when you suddenly wanted to leave.” His breathing is getting sharper as his tears poured out continuously.

“Please…please.” He begged. His grip on your hand growing tighter.

“Don’t make me sign those papers. Stay married to me. Please.” He cried harder. As if expecting a rejection from you.

Each word stinged.

But.

Your heart softened.

You believed everything he just said. You were just denying the love he is giving you. You felt it yourself. All the spooning. All the random cheek kisses. All the hand holding. You felt all of those. You felt Changsub’s love in all of those.

But you were blinded with guilt then.

“Of course I’ll stay married to you.” You cupped his cheeks and kissed him attempting to stop his sobs.

He pulled away and stared at you.

“Do you promise to be Mrs. Lee again?” he asked you with full hope in his eyes. Kind of like a child is asking his mother if he can get a new toy car.

You chuckled softly and nodded in agreement as you wipe away his tears. “Let’s get to your home now.” You said signaling him to start driving again.

His nose scrunched up and pouted. “Our home!” he corrected you. The words our and home giving you weird butterflies.

You laughed. “Alright Mr. Lee, now get driving.” You chuckled. “Mrs. Lee’s getting sleepy.” you went on.

He jolted.

His tears suddenly went dry.

He kissed you once before driving again.

He had the purest grin on his face too.

And his cheek grew a soft shade of pink just hearing you address yourself again with his last name.

#changsub scenario #lee changsub #btob scenarios #btobnetwork #ahhhhhh i didn't want to use chorong because i love her but i just kind had to #huhuhuhuhu #this was pretty weak #but thank you kontz for requesting this #let me know what you guys think ok i love talking to you guys

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surveysonfleek · 7 years

Text

092.

1. When you are old, what do you think children will ask you to tell stories about? probably what it was like growing up. i can’t even imagine what kind of technology will be around in the future. my mind’s already blown that i lived through video tapes, cassette tapes, dvds, discman’s etc. 2. If you could switch two movie characters, what switch would lead to the most inappropriate movies? haha i hate these kinds of questions. not feeling too creative right now. 3. What animal would be the cutest, if scaled down to the size of a cat? a panda. 4. What inanimate object would be the most annoying if it played loud, upbeat music every time it was used? your bed. lol. 5. When did something start out badly, but become great in the end? hopefully my life tbh.

6. What weird food combinations do you really enjoy? i love hawaiian pizza. i’m that person. 7. How would your country change if anyone could vote, regardless of their age? it would be ridiculous for kids to vote, they’d have no idea what’s going on. there would be plenty of donkey votes. 8. What are some red flags to watch out for in daily life? honestly just the people you surround yourself with. if they don’t make you better as a person, it’s time to find new friends. 9. If your job gave you a surprise three day paid break to rest and recuperate, what would you do with those three days? stay in bed. or go shopping with the money i’ll eventually get. 10. Where do you get your news? all online. 11. What movie can you watch over and over again without getting tired of it? mean girls. 12. What’s wrong but sounds right? idk lol. 13. What’s the most epic way you’ve heard/seen of someone quitting or being fired? well someone i know stole hundreds and thousands of dollars while working at the casino and he just got fired, banned from all casinos but got to keep the money. not bad lol. 14. If you couldn’t be convicted of any type of crime, what crime would you like to be immune to? stealing money? lol i would never intentionally hurt anyone, so i guess stealing is the way to go. 15. What social stigma does society need to get over? haha basically everything. i wonder if we’ll ever really get past anything as a society or if we’ll forever be complaining/fighting stigmas forever. 16. What’s the most creative use of emoji’s you’ve ever seen? not sure lol. 17. What’s something that will always be in fashion, no matter how much time passes? jeans. i’m sure everyone will always have at least one pair of jeans that they’ll comfortably wear at any given day. 18. What actors or actresses play the same character in almost every show or movie they feature in? i don’t really pay attention. 19. In the past people were buried with items they’d need in the afterlife, what would you like to be buried with you to keep in the afterlife? a working smartphone so i could keep up with everyone after i’m gone lol. 20. What’s the worst joke someone has ever played on you / you ever played on someone else? nothing serious but as a kid, i fell asleep at a sleepover and my friend pinched my nostrils so i couldn’t breathe and it woke me up. i got so pissed off, i take my sleep seriously. 21. Who do you go out of your way to be nice to? everyone i love. 22. Where do you get most of the decorations in your home? ikea. 23. What food is delicious, but a pain to eat? ribs. like it’s not that hard, just messy. 24. What “old person” things do you do? take naps. 25. Which celebrity do you think is most down to earth? i’d like to think hugh jackman. he seems like a cool guy. 26. What makes you roll your eyes every time you hear it? bae lol. so over it. 27. What would a world populated by clones of you be like? lazy af! 28. What’s something you really resent paying for? ugh plenty of things. getting my car fixed just recently. it’s still the same. 29. What are you currently worried about? my future. 30. If someone narrated your life, who would you watch the narrator to be? mindy kaling lmao. her voice just gets me. 31. How do you judge a person? just how they behave in general. 32. What was cool when you were younger but isn’t cool now? neopets. 33. What artist or band do you often recommend when people ask for a music recommendation? it honestly depends on everyone’s taste. i love sza though, she’s a breath of fresh air. oh and kehlani! 34. What’s the most pleasant sounding accent? man, i really can’t think of one. everything sounds annoying to me. i guess i’d choose the adelaide accent. it’s a mix of british and australian and it just flows really well and pleasant to the ears. 35. What word do you always misspell? i used to spell privilege wrong all the time but i got it now lol. 36. Most majestic animal? gazelles. 37. Favourite holiday movie? hmmmmmm. home alone. an oldie. 38. Most rage inducing game you’ve ever played? tekken haha. 39. What are some of the dumbest lyrics you’ve heard in a song? cannot think of anything from the top of my head lol. 40. What if cartoon physics replaced real physics, what would you try? -idk.

#survey #surveys #quiz #bored #questions

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imaginexmeintheuniverse · 7 years

Text

Out of the Blue

Soulmate AU

Pairing: Alex Summers x Reader

Warnings: None (that I can think of )

Word Count: 1, 315

Summary: Soulmate AU where the only colour you can see is anything that is the same colour of your soulmate’s eyes, until you meet them and you can see perfectly in colour from these soulmate au prompts by @fanficspromptsandfun

Masterlist

A/N: This is my first time writing for Alex Summers and I’m hella nervous about how it turned out perhaps because I like him so much. I know it’s not great but I tried. Also let’s assume everyone knows the names of colors and such for the purposes of this story.

Most people would be annoyed to have to wait as long as you have to see colors other than the one of your soulmate’s eyes, but you didn’t mind it all that much. You didn’t mind seeing what you knew was the prettiest shade of blue while you patiently waited for the day you’d finally meet your soulmate. You were certain it would always be your favorite color and that no other color could possibly compare.

Most of your friends had met their soulmates throughout high school and middle school, and some were lucky enough to meet them in early childhood. But not you. Throughout your life you found yourself day dreaming a lot about the day you’d finally meet your soulmate. You wandered what they would be like; if they were kind, if they smiled a lot, if they rinsed their toothbrush before brushing their teeth and if they had similar likes and dislikes as you.

As you grew up, sometimes you’d get self-conscious. You’d close your eyes and think of scenarios where you’d meet your soulmate and they were disappointed that they ended up with you. What if they didn’t think you were good enough? What you weren’t pretty enough, smart enough, strong enough? But then you’d open your eyes to the beautiful shade of blue and you were reminded that there was someone out there for you who would surely love you for who you were.

After going so many years without meeting his soulmate, Alex Summers had pushed it to the back of head. Although he’d never admit it, he spent a lot of time thinking of what his soulmate would be like; almost as much as you. When his mutation developed however, he started acting recklessly. He got himself locked up in fear of hurting someone with his unpredictable ability.

He got a new sense of purpose when he was recruited into the X-Men. He was still an asshole of course, but he was set on a better path. He worried that he wouldn’t be deserving of a soulmate. He threw himself into his training and missions to make a positive difference in the world. He wanted to become someone deserving of having a wonderful person in their life forever.

It was a calm, sunny morning. You were having your usual at the quaint downtown cafe you frequented. You were seated at one of the outside tables, enjoying the sun while nibbling on a freshly baked muffin and being totally immersed in the latest book you were reading. It was like any other Sunday morning.

It was like any other Sunday morning, except this time a group of rebel mutants were terrorizing the city. You heard noises in the distance, muffled by the usual bustle of the downtown area. It wasn’t until it was too late that you noticed something had gone awry.

People were running from behind you to get away from the mutants who were leaving a trail of chaos behind them. They were collapsing buildings, injuring people, and taking hostages along their way. The porcelain cups around you started clinking on their saucers as the ground beneath you shook. The quakes got increasingly stronger. You managed to grab your bag and run from the scene before the front of the building collapsed, rubble covering the very area you were sitting in only moments ago.

The team of heroes in the suits with the X across the chest whom you knew to be the X-Men had landed on the scene. You assumed they had been following the group for a bit, trying to contain the threat and fending off dangerous mutants all while saving civilians from the anarchy. You spotted a man about your age across the street from where you were. He wore the X-Men suit and was blasting some sort of beams from his chest and hands. At that moment his back was to you but you felt this undeniable attraction that pulled you to him like a magnet.

All common sense out the window, you started crossing the street to where he stood. Thankfully, there seemed to be a bit of a break in the chaos and it looked like he was staying in place awaiting orders. He took a moment to turn around and observe his surroundings.

That’s when you locked eyes with him. It’s like time froze as the blue in your vision was slowly replaced by other colors except the pair of eyes you were fixed on. Your world had become filled with a million different colors and yet you couldn’t help but marvel at the blue orbs that were the same hue that you had been seeing your whole life.

He was equally as entranced as you were; his Y/E/C world was washed over with more colors than he could have ever thought imaginable. He took in all you features, attempting to memorize every inch of you in split second like you could disappear any second. Which in this scenario you very well could.

The words he yelled at you were lost by the ringing in your ears from the explosion. He started jogging towards you, repeating the same sentence and waving his arms. You squinted through a passing cloud of dust and were finally able to read his lips. “Get out of the way!”

You looked over your shoulder to assess the threat almost a little too late, but managed to fling yourself to the side just in time to avoid being caught in the clutches of one of the mutants. He jolted his fist forward, releasing a bright red beam that hit the other mutant square in the chest and sent him flying backwards.

Your soulmate rushed over to you after surveying for any other immediate threats. He helped you up from the ground and gave you a once over for injuries.

“Hey, are you okay?” he asked, his eyebrows furrowed with concern. He was gorgeous.

“Hi,” you breathed, “I’m Y/N.”

“Alex Summers.”

“N-Nice to meet you- You’re- Wow-” You mentally slapped yourself not only for looking like a bumbling idiot moments earlier, but also for sounding like one right now. You believed that he must be thinking that out of all the people in this world, he got stuck with the dumbest possible soulmate. “What I mean is- uh, thanks for saving me.”

Little did you know, he thought quite the opposite. He had seen you reading at the cafe when they had landed earlier. Before the attack had gotten to you, he was strangely drawn to you and couldn’t take his eyes off who he thought was the most beautiful being he had ever seen. He had never seen anyone be both so deep in thought yet at peace as you had been, reading your book outside on a sunny morning. He had felt a sense of longing although he couldn’t quite put his finger on what exactly he longed for. Now he knew.

He hoped that once this mission was over, it was a peace he could witness and be a part of for many mornings to come. “Anytime.” The kind smile that appeared on his face put you more at ease and was something you could definitely get used to. “Let’s get you out of here.”

He personally led you to safety, occasionally having to blast falling debris and foes away. There was no way he was going to let anything happen to his soulmate now that he finally found you. Once he made absolutely sure you’d be 100% safe and that you had a way to contact him after this was all over, he went back to join his team in saving the city, paving his way with the bright red beams.

You were right; no other color could compare to the brilliant blue of Alex Summer’s eyes. But red came pretty damn close.

#alex summers #alex summers x reader #alex summers imagine #xmen imagine #soulmate au #alex soulmate au #xmen #marvel #marvel imagine #au #potatowrites #my writing #havok #havok x reader #havok imagine #out of the blue

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cinful-stories · 7 years

Text

50 Interesting Questions- Tagged

(I was tagged by @widzzicles to do this! I really appreciate it! I haven't really mentioned much about myself on this platform, so this will be the first look at my quirky, strange personality. Here goes nothing!)

1. What kind of food can't you stand? Even though I’m not a strict vegetarian, I loosely consider myself to be one because of my hatred for meat. Seafood and ham are particularly horrid to me, but on rare occasions, I can handle small amounts of bacon, sausage, and chicken if prepared well.

2. If you could choose one minor inconvenience to never have to deal with again, what would you pick? Acne. I’ve struggled with it for nearly eight years, and it’s been the root of my insecurities.

3. Have you got any useless talents? I’m double-jointed in my right wrist and three fingers. I can also wiggle my right ear and nose.

4. If you could be really good at one thing, what would it be? Writing. I have a strong perfectionist mentality when it comes to my artistic creations, and it often gets in the way of completing any projects; therefore, whenever I sit down to work on my original novel, it becomes a stressful task for me.

5. Name a few people you think are extremely good-looking? Eddie Redmayne is my ultimate celebrity crush. I think he’s absolutely adorable, and he’s the main inspiration for the male protagonist of my novel. I also find Dan Avidan from Game Grumps and Benedict Cumberbatch really attractive.

6. What was your favorite way to pass time as a kid? I often watched Hetalia and YouTube gaming channels during middle school, so I wasted a lot of time on the internet. I was also a major SuperWhoMerLock fan. I suppose not much has changed as far as interests go...

7. What is something you are proud of? Before I started posting my fan creations on Tumblr, I was highly active on Quotev for four years. One of the stories I posted (a Hunger Games fanfic) was received extremely well, and it has over 1,200 favorites.

8. What's one character flaw in people that you just can't tolerate? I can’t stand people who are unreliable and only make an effort if they need something from me. My biggest languages of love are Quality Time and Acts of Service, so when someone doesn’t want to put in some of their time for me, it’s a major turn-off.

9. Do you consider yourself to be more of a leader or a follower? It depends. I’m typically more of a follower when I’m insecure about my own abilities regarding the task at hand, but if it’s something I’m confident about doing, I instinctively take on the leadership role.

10. What kind of student are/ were you? I’m incredibly studious, and I’m almost anal about receiving good grades. I tend to procrastinate when I let myself relax, so I make sure to keep myself busy during the school year as much as possible.

11. Butterfly effect question! Has there ever been a seemingly minor decision you've made (at the time) that ended up having a profound influence on your life? Sitting at an unfamiliar lunch table on the first day of eighth grade. It was a seemingly insignificant choice at the time, and I thought it would be a temporary thing, but it later became the event that led to meeting my best friend of five years. If I hadn’t chosen that table, I wouldn’t be nearly as confident, independent, and honest as I am today – all attributes that came from her importance in my life.

12. Name your most irrational fear/ aversion: I’m petrified of settling. I have a horrible habit of not being able to say no to people; therefore, I end up settling for relationships and activities I never wanted to do in the first place. I’m afraid that I won’t get the chance to live my fullest life before I die only because I wanted to please others or take the easy route.

13. Are there any fiction characters you find especially relatable? As basic as this sounds, I find myself relating to Belle from Beauty and the Beast. Her thirst for a thrilling life somewhere unfamiliar is something I crave. She doesn’t fall in love with a person’s outward appearance, which is something I do as well, and she loves reading too!

14. If you drink, what kind of drunk are you? Alternatively, what sort of person are you at parties? I don’t drink, but at parties I’m fairly social, regardless of whether or not I know the people in attendance. Sometimes parties are uncomfortable for me, but other times they’re not. It just depends on the type of people at the gathering.

15. Do you fall in love easily? Or does it usually take a long time for you to trust someone? I tend to trust people rather easily, but that doesn’t mean I fall in love quickly. I’m actually really reluctant to get into another relationship. It’s hard for me to find someone I truly love. I’ve only ever been in love once, and that relationship was two years ago.

16. Would you rather have one close friend or 100 casual friends? I prefer having one close friend. I have two best friends, and roughly five or six casual friends. I’ve always gained a lot more out of my bonds with my two closest friends than I ever have with those more distant from me.

17. Do you consider yourself to be more of a slob or a neat-freak? I’m a total neat-freak. I take great pleasure in organizing my bedroom and cleaning my car, and if I’m trying to keep myself busy for whatever reason, I often find something to organize. I’m a Virgo, so that explains it.

18. Describe a place (imaginary or real) that you find incredibly cozy: I imagine myself in a wooden loft in an attic of a house, surrounded by potted plants, art canvases, and towering bookshelves. Hand-woven dreamcatchers loom above my bed, and prisms capture beams of iridescent light on the walls. There’s a skylight on one of the ceiling panels, and a sliver of moonlight is bathing the room in an eerie, azure glow. Particles of silver, feathery dust are swirling around my head, twinkling like the blanket of stars above. I’m lying prostrate on the floor, gazing up at the heavens as the full moon smiles down upon me. A symphony of crickets fills the air, and the scent of old parchment wafts into my nostrils. It’s a tranquil night, and I’m alone with my thoughts. A porcelain cup of scalding, raspberry tea rests idly in my hand, and a warm smile is toying with my lips. I am at peace.

19. Do you have kids? If not, do you want them someday? I don’t have kids, and I’m hesitant about the idea of having them with the career I want to pursue, but I could see myself with two sometime in the future. Boys’ names: Elijah or Benedict. Girls’ names: Roslyn or Margot.

20. What was your favorite book as a child? Eggs by Jerry Spinelli was my absolute favorite book, and I remember reading it several times. I also really enjoyed The Sisters Grimm and N.E.R.D.S. books by Michael Buckley.

21. Name one thing you just don't get what all the hype is about: Going on cruises. The idea of being trapped on a giant boat with a timed schedule of mind-numbing, preselected activities to do doesn’t sound remotely fun to me.

22. Name one thing you think is tragically underrated: Crushed potato chips in bubblegum ice cream, mixed with marshmallow syrup and topped with rainbow sprinkles. Don’t knock it until you try it.

23. If you had to be glued to a person for a month, real or fictional, who would it be? I would choose Dick Van Dyke, who has always been my favorite actor. He’s currently ninety-one years old, so I would jump at the chance to walk a mile in his shoes before he dies.

24. What's something you'd like the chance to do someday? I’ve always dreamt of travelling Europe. I especially want to visit London, Dublin, Madrid, Amsterdam, and Rome.

25. Do you typically speak your mind when you have a controversial opinion? Or do you generally prefer not to rock the boat? I’m actually really vocal about my opinions. I’d like to think that I’m a gifted debater, writer, and public speaker, so I never shy away from sharing my perspectives in a controversial conversation if I have the evidence to back it up.

26. What's the dumbest fad you've been caught up in? I don’t think this was ever a fad, but I used to wear those Hot Topic rubbery wristbands up and down my arms like tattoo sleeves in middle school.

27. What's something you thought was cool as a kid, but now cringe at yourself for? See #26. I also thought that getting bad grades and bragging about being vegetarian for a day was cool.

28. What's a trait you consider to be very admirable? I value having intellect and good communication skills above all else, and it also makes my heart flutter if I meet someone chivalrous. I also love humor. I’m a sucker for anyone who can make me laugh.

29. Is there a particular kind of item people always tend to give you as gifts? My closest friends always buy me astrology related things. Other friends typically buy me Doctor Who merch or something feminine and monogrammed.

30. Do you speak multiple languages? Not fluently, but I studied French for three consecutive years and won a bronze medal for the national French exam.

31. Would you rather live in the big city or the countryside? I’m a city gal. I’ve grown up in an urban family town for far too long. I’ve always wanted to live in a flat in central London.

32. Has there ever been something you were certain you'd hate, but ended up loving? Marching band. I was terrified of joining originally, but here I am four years later serving as my band’s historian and the Mellophone section leader.

33. Do you mind being the center of attention, or do you prefer the spotlight to be on someone else? As far as group conversations go, no. I hate being in charge of the dialog, but if I’m speaking publicly or performing in front of a large audience, I don’t mind. I enjoy the adrenaline rush!

34. Favorite holiday? It’s a toss-up between New Year’s Eve and the Fourth of July.

35. Are you more of a go-with-the-flow type of person, or do you need to have things planned meticulously? I prefer having a plan, but I’m not going to throw a fit if I have to play something by ear.

36. Is there something you loved so much you wish you could forget it and experience it all again? I once took a family trip to Bar Harbor, Maine in 2011, and I firmly believe that it’s the most tranquil, serene place I’ve ever been to. Luckily, I’m going back to visit during the summer of 2018!

37. What hobbies do you have? Writing, sketching, blogging, reading, watching anime or YouTube gamers, astrology, gardening, playing the French horn, and playing Otome games obsessively

38. If you could have a superpower, but it was only mildly useful, what ability would you want to have? I would love to be able to harness the four elements somehow, even if my powers were minor. Just being able to generate a puff of smoke or grow something from the ground with my hands would be amazing.

39. Something people are always surprised to learn about you: I’m allergic to peanuts. Even after I tell my friends, they frequently forget.

40. Something that took you way too long to figure out: I don’t need to rely on other people to find the source of my happiness. I’m wonderfully made, just as I am.

41. Worst injury you’ve had? I’ve never had any injuries other than your typically bumps and bruises.

42. Any morbid fascinations? I love horror films and video games, especially the gory, psychological ones.

43. Describe your sense of humor: I make a lot dorky puns and niche references, so it’s rare when I get a genuine laugh out of people.

44. If you had to be born in another era/ place, which would you choose? Late 1960’s America. The country was in a state of social and political turmoil, so a movement of independent thought swept the nation’s youth for the first time since the Revolutionary War. Rock, which is my favorite genre of music, was also becoming immensely popular. I would’ve loved to have participated in an anti-war rally and go to Woodstock.

45. Something you are irredeemably bad at: Science. I have a passion for astronomy and psychology, but I’m terrible at any other science subtopic.

46. Something that sucked but you’re glad you went through: My first breakup. It’s corny, I know, but that emotional time in my life really helped me evolve into who I am today. I used to be pretty spineless, naïve, and dependent on others for my happiness. I may have lost someone I loved dearly, but I learned to love myself in the process, and I became a lot more confident because of it.

47. Would you rather have a really godawful, ugly tattoo in a place that is only slightly inconvenient to conceal, or the coolest, most beautiful tattoo ever in the middle of your face? I’ll take the ugly tattoo. At least I can hide it if I need to.

48. Are you more of an optimist or a pessimist? I’m an optimist. I don’t always see the silver lining in dark times, but I always persevere and convince myself that there’s something better coming.

49. What would be the most flattering compliment someone could give you? “You mean the world to me.”

50. Something you feel people often misunderstand about you: People seem to think that they can take advantage of me since I’m easily forgiving and kind. I may forgive, but I never forget.

(This took a lot longer to answer than I anticipated, but I had fun! @phantomchou @confused-tofu @princessofwysteria @rimalupin @lustfullyleocrawford @rizosrojizos @yukarinova @leorysxi @mariyukimu I'm sorry if y'all have already been tagged!)

#tag #not midcin related #50 interesting questions #fyi #about me

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winnwinn-moved · 7 years

Text

just be friends

ten - 2820 - angst

you met ten two summers ago.

“hey, not to be an asshole, but i was in line before you.”

there was no way in hell you were giving up your prime real estate near the entrance of the movie theater. you were a little embarrassed, all right, downright ashamed you were actually camping out in front of the best theater in town just to get good tickets to witness the miracle that was the reboot of your favorite childhood classic, but there you stood, practically melting in the blazing heat, surrounded by fans just as (if not more) crazy than you. and while you had dropped your guard to check your phone, a very rude (very handsome) man had slipped in front of you as if he had been there the entire morning. the audacity! usually, you would let something like that slide, but not that day. you had waited for so long, so damn long to see this, and you weren’t about to miss this premiere because someone thought their good looks would save them from your wrath.

his good looks were intimidating though, and after the accusation escaped your lips, you immediately felt unsure of yourself. it’s not everyday you meet a god on earth, and of course the one day this one decides to come on down, your first words are a malicious insult to his honor. this guy was hot to say it in the dumbest terms, hotter the sun practically peeling your skin off, hotter than the cement burning through your cheap flops, hotter than your cheeks flushed red with embarrassment. he wasn’t very tall, but he was built, though not in a questionable way that makes you wonder if he’s surviving off steroids and monster energy drink, but in a way that makes you marvel at his workout routine and hope he won’t mind sharing it with you. despite his very attractive build, you found yourself drawn to his face more. like his eyes, how they sparkled brighter than the sun’s warm rays, and his smile, how it immediately made you forget where you were, why you were there, and what you were previously doing. he looked soft, innocent, and all around like a good person. which you thought was odd, because when were you one for making that kind of assumption about people?

you shook your head. then wasn’t the time to completely get lost inside your thoughts. you had a spot to defend, not a romance to write.

“oh, i’m sorry, i guess i just didn’t notice.” the guy shrugged, and there was that smile again and you knew your heart shouldn’t be racing like that, but there it went, running a marathon.

you tucked a loose strand of hair behind your ear, shifting your weight from one foot to another. “well, this isn’t the back you know.”

“why would i want to stand in the back when someone pretty as you is standing right here?” he mused, and he sounded genuinely curious.

your face heated up even more (you blamed the summer heat), because that was real, that was purposeful. that wasn’t some offhand greasy comment to make your head spin and your knees shake, so you’d eventually faint and lose your place in the damned line. no, you could tell, he was being honest with you. you’d never been one to inflate your own ego, but you weren’t going to try and demonize someone who just admitted something so sweet-

“look, i’ll make you a deal.” the boy inched closer, and you found yourself backing up out of shock. he laughed, and held his hands up. “okay okay, i’ll stay here.”

“wait, no. what’s the deal?” you asked, narrowing your eyes.

“if you let me stay in line with you, i’ll buy you popcorn and a drink, and we can sit together.”

“so like a date?” you stammered out, voice cracking in an oh so embarrassing manner.

he laughed again, his eyes crinkling at the corners. “whoa, slow down, you don’t even know my name!”

“hey, you’re the one who suggested-”

“ten. you can call me ten.”

two decembers ago, you realized you were in love.

you knew you loved ten before your first kiss. you knew you loved ten before he sheepishly shoved daisies in your face and asked you two to become an official thing. you knew you loved ten before he wrote that ballad for your birthday, before he decorated your apartment with red roses and candles to celebrate your one month anniversary (how extra, you know), before he whispered in your ear that you were his sun, his moon, his stars.

no, you realized you loved ten when he was the first face you searched for in the crowd when accepting your best in show award down at the local fair. you sought ten out immediately when something good was going your way. no matter how insignificant it seemed, ten would always make the biggest deals of your victories, whether it be acing the calculus exam you were sure you failed, to finally managing to clean your room for once. ten was always there for you with a bright smile and a warm hug, a pat on the back and an entire speech always planned to congratulate you on conquering the day’s daily challenges. ten was the first to hear about your acceptance to a rigorous academic program, the first to get the “i got the job!” call, and the first to tease you about your “new” car. and out of everyone you shared your joys with, ten was always the most excited for you. above anyone else, he genuinely celebrated in your happiness, shared your smile, joined you on top of the world.

and you realized you loved ten in your sorrows too. ten was the one who picked you up when the cutie from your photography class showed you up for your cafe date, and ten was the one who treated you to a “you’re better than them” pancake breakfast the next morning. ten was the one who gave the ren minute eulogy for your betta fish, and ten was the one who placed the dirt over its makeshift grave. ten held you in his arms at two in the morning when you sobbed about your life falling to pieces, and ten was the one who promised you that he would make everything better. ten was the person you stayed with when your home life became too confusing and too draining to bear, and ten was the one who slept on the couch when he discovered you to be drooling on his pillow. no matter what the problem is, ten has always dropped everything for you. there has never been a time where ten didn’t reach out his hand to pull you up from your pit of despair and isolation and hurt. ten has always been the one to hold open his umbrella when life decided to rain down upon you. never in life did you imagine yourself finding someone so selfless, but ten has proven that even your most impossible dreams can become a very tangible reality.

but you also realized ten when jealousy blinded you, made you see red, caused your body to feel hotter than fire. at first you desperately tried to ignore the way your heart would plummet into the pits of your stomach when ten would casually comment about someone attractive entering the room. and you tried to look anywhere other than at ten when he would was chatting away with someone new, but despite your most valiant efforts, you would find your gaze fixated on him alone. you would gnaw your lip when someone pretty caused him to smile wide, cross your arms over your chest whenever someone added a flirty remark to his latest instagram post, huff in defeat when yuta would inform you that yes, ten did indeed get hit on by that annoying blond in their geology class again. you envied the people that ten showered in his affection, yet you didn’t seem to realize that all that time… all that time that ten wanted your attention above anything else.

it was the little things that made you fall in love with ten.

like the day he jumped into the nasty old pond near your house to save your dearest cap after the win stole it away from you. or the time he showed up to your door with a kitten wrapped in an old sweater of his because “i heard you were upset and i thought this would help”. and who could forget the night that ten showed up outside your window to sing the high school musical soundtrack for you so you wouldn’t forget the lyrics for your audition the next morning. though one of your favorite memories has to be the spring day you two rented the shiny yellow tandem bike to ride around town, and spent the entire afternoon giggling and childishly blaming each other for causing the wheels to falter and skid. falling in love with ten was never something you planned, but it was never something you tried to stop either, and all too quickly you found yourself head over heels for the boy.

the beginning stages of your love are times you like to remember fondly.

three months ago is when everything started to fall apart.

with a deep sigh, you glance down at your phone. you don’t expect a text from ten, despite having texting him over an hour ago, and not surprisingly, your only notifications are from that stupid groupchat you have with yuta and hansol, and snapchats… none of which are from your boyfriend. you roll over onto your side, staring at your alarm clock blankly. a few months ago, you would have been spending this idle sunday afternoon with ten. now, you lay alone, wondering what happened for things to get this bad. you haven’t heard from ten since last night, when he texted you the deadbeat “talk to you later”. but you can’t blame him, not really, not when you pretend not to hear the phone when he calls, not when you scroll past his latest posts with an unconcerned batting of your lashes, not when you have made zero effort into salvaging what was once your perfect fairy tale.

sometimes you wish there was someone else. you think that would make things easier. it would give you a reason to hate ten, to wish to never see him again, to curse him and his children and their children for all of eternity. if there was someone else in the picture, things would make sense. there would be no second guessing the status of your relationship: a shrill “we’re over!” would be the end of that. and you wouldn’t have to meekly tell friends “it’s just rough patch” when you know things are so much more dire than that. if there was someone else… if there was someone else then maybe there would be reason for things to fall to pieces.

but there isn’t someone else. there is only you and ten, and the suffocating “so what now” tying you together. no longer does the red string of fate keep you bound to one another; it has slowly unravelled and lays abandoned at your feet. will the cord always be tied neatly on ten’s pinkie, or has his string too, been snipped in the middle? it must be. it has to be. there is no other explanation.

you love ten. nothing could ever stop you from loving ten. but it is futile trying to save something that has already died. there is nothing you can do to revive your love. no sort of prayer will bring it back, no black magic will suddenly mend your broken heart, no miracle will magically revert things to how they use to be. you know it. ten knows it. everyone knows it. yet here you sit, the simple silver locket still around your neck, as you lie to yourself and say that things are just fine.

but things are not fine. and they haven’t been fine for some while yet. and you don’t know why you’ve pretended they have been, and you don’t know why your heart keeps lying to your head, but you tell yourself that maybe, just maybe, this is a bad dream, no, a nightmare, and tomorrow you will wake to find yourself safe in ten’s arms.

“oh.” you whisper. “i think i’m crying.”

you wipe the hot tears from your eyes, rub them so hard that you feel your skin start to burn. you won’t cry. you can’t cry, because everything is fine, because everything is happy, because everything is perfect and-

the first sob escapes your throat, and after that, your wailing refuses to cease. you bury your face in your pillow, and you’re suffocating, suffocating, but it feels like such a relief to the way you’re drowning, drowning in this insanity once called love. the tears will not stop their flowing, and soon the once clean pillow is sopping, but even then, you cannot control your cries. you sob for the way things once were, scream for the cruel reality of your present, weep for the possibilities of a future now shattered into millions of pieces.

nobody ever tells you what happens when people fall out of love.

and before now, you never thought you would ever know.

but love doesn’t always work, and sometimes storybook endings have one last page to smash something once beautiful into ugly, unrecognizable shards. promises whispered in the dead of night, promises of joy and loyalty and forever are often broken when the sun rises and the unavoidable truth can no longer hide itself. feelings come and feelings go and sometimes feelings eat you alive before you can find a way to control them. and even worse, sometimes feelings abandon you completely, leaving something that was once so fulfilling to become empty, hollowed, dead.

and as the questions, the doubts, the fears, consume you alive, you can do nothing but sob.

today is the day that you end things with ten.

you have a bag slung over your shoulder: a bag filled with his sweaters and his scarves and even his underpants. you have a bag filled with your hopes and your dreams and your wishes and aspirations: a bag that you will never ever see again. ten is already sitting at the table inside the cramped cafe; you can see the back of his head and it pains you the way your heart skips a beat just recognizing him by that. you don’t want to walk any further, and for a minute you freeze, intent on fleeing out the door to the safety of ignorance, of pretending, of the past. but with a shaking breath, you take that first step forward. and with each step, it becomes just a little bit easier. but just a little.

ten doesn’t smile, and your heart aches at the sight. slowly, you take the empty seat across from him. he does not speak. neither do you. you two stare for what seems like ages, but there is nothing else to do. there are no words that need to be exchanged. no excuses to be made. no attempts at fixing something that is so incredibly broken beyond belief.

you slide the bag over to ten, along with the spare key to his apartment, along with the pretty locket you once vowed you would never part with.

clearly, you have broken that promise.

but broken seems normal now. and maybe things would continue to crack more if you left things alone. after all, everyone knows a bandage only stings a little if you rip it off quickly.

except a bandage isn’t love, and this doesn’t hurt only a little bit, this hurts more than you have ever known pain to hurt, and you want to scream, you want to cry, but you can’t muster the courage to do anything but stare.

ten takes the items, takes away the last piece of “us”. he pauses when grabbing the locket, but soon, shoves it into his coat pocket. he finds a sudden interest in his hands, refusing to make eye contact with you.

the silence is suffocating.

and so you speak.

“we need…” you inhale sharply, your brave facade crumbling to pieces. “i think we need to just be friends.”

ten does not answer. he continues to stare at his hands; they’re shaking. you restrain yourself from reaching out to comfort him because now isn’t the time, nor the place, yet despite the way things are playing out you can’t stand seeing him so upset.

“ten…” you choke back a sob. “please, just answer me!”

still, nothing.

and when ten does decide to look up…

he realizes you are no longer there.

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