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monster-bait · 4 years

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Talse, Telepathic Gelatinous Monster x F Human, NSFW, Monster Match

A commission for @edgier-than-a-diamond, based on a dream she shared ina "Show Me Your!" post

I wish you were able to see what I’m dealing with here, you thought, pressing your lips together to keep your laughter at bay. Bun fun time is proving to be a bit too much for the volunteer of the month.

Across the room, Marcie was struggling. You tried not to let the older woman get under your skin, for you knew she meant well. Still, that didn't mean you actually needed to hear about how long she’d been volunteering every single time you were scheduled together, nor did it help you do your job better to be reminded that she had been named the volunteer of the month a staggering eighteen times over her years of service at the animal shelter.

All of her experience and laminated certificates weren’t helping at the current moment, as Biscuit and Marshmallow raced around the exercise enclosure, tawny and white blurs, determined not to listen to Marcie. Every time the rabbits slowed, she would charge forward in victory, her hands barely grazing their fur before they’d be off again, gleefully evading her once more.

This is how you take the title from her. Bun mastery is absolutely worthy of volunteer of the month! Just start carrying a pocket full of whatever Biscuit likes to eat!

You had to turn away then, unable to hold back your huff of laughter as Marcie attempted to reach through her legs for Marshmallow, staggering forward as she did so and still completely missing him.

Not needing to speak aloud to have conversations was a double-edged sword. On one hand, you didn’t have to appear as though you were talking to yourself. You imagined that it would not endear you to your parents or people in shops if you were constantly carrying on one-sided conversations, and certainly wouldn’t earn you the volunteer of the month title.

On the other hand, controlling your facial features was sometimes a greater challenge. As it was, your parents had remarked about how “smiley” you’d become, how difficult it was at times to keep a neutral expression. You couldn’t help it—your conversation companion had a sense of humor you adored, slightly sarcastic but always kind, and you loved the time spent with them.

...In your head.

“What’s going on down there?”

A voice full of barely suppressed mirth crackled in your ear, the next volunteer radioing down from the upstairs office, and this time you didn’t bother hiding your snort of laughter, knowing full well she could see Biscuit racing like he was going for the gold around Marcie’s feet.

“Let me guess...she didn’t need your help.”

“Nope,” you confirmed with a chuckle, turning away from the amusing tableau as Marcie exclaimed in frustration. There were only two volunteers permitted on the floor at once, social distancing measures that had become the new normal. Despite her bluster about being the very best volunteer at the shelter, Marcie was typically the first person pushing out the door once replacements arrived, and you weren’t about to give up the rare opportunity to leave first.

“All the cats have fresh litter and water, check with her about the dogs...have a good night!”

I’m getting out of here, you announced silently once you’d left the shelter.

Ok...drive safely. Let me know when you get home.

Your cheeks warmed as you crossed the parking lot, keys already in hand. If it had been a text message, there would have been nothing amiss, you considered. Hell, for that matter you could have been talking aloud on speakerphone, and the brief exchange wouldn’t have raised the suspicions of anyone in the vicinity. You were announcing your departure and received the same sort of caring admonition people received from their loved ones every day.

The only difference was your conversation was taking place inside your head...with the voice.

It had started shortly after you’d moved back to your parent’s house.

It had made sense to come home: you were finished with school and had managed to secure a day job to cover rent and bills, but then everything had shut down, the whole world screeching to a grinding halt. You’d vacated your small apartment and moved back into your adolescent bedroom, with plans to either return to school for an advanced degree or start a successful freelancing business with your art.

You were grateful for having the safety net of coming home, but the nostalgia of being surrounded by your old things, your yard, the woods where you’d played endlessly as a child, had been overwhelming.

The woods had been the biggest change.

Hours and hours you’d spent there—never more than fifteen feet or so into the treeline, the light from the road clearly visible and your family’s house just across the street—but you pretended that you’d been transported to another world, deep in the heart of the forest. There was always a curious collection of random detritus to be collected: bottles and buttons and shoelaces, treasures from the woods which became potion vessels and magic amulets, objects which you used to construct traps for any intruder who might come barging into your tree-shaded sanctum, creating detailed origin stories for everything in your fortress and the woods beyond.

It had been your favorite place to play as a child, and you’d been more than a little upset when the first thing you’d noticed, as you pulled up to your parent’s house on the day you’d moved home, was the absence of trees. The frontage of the woods, the spot where you’d played, was gone; flattened and bare, leaving nothing behind but the newly-poured foundations of a house, the land purchased and developed.

It was silly to be upset, you told yourself, struggling into the house with bags full of clothes that day. You weren’t a kid anymore, it wasn’t as if you could just disappear into the woods and play with sticks and buttons and bits of colored glass as you’d done as a child...those days were gone, and the neighborhood was changing.

That hadn’t stopped you from thinking about it for days, nagging at the back of your mind until your feet carried you outside one night, seemingly of their own volition. You’re not a child, it’s not like you’re going to get in trouble for being out after dark, you’d reminded yourself. Standing on the front porch led to sitting on the stoop, until you began to restlessly pace the length of the driveway...until your feet acted independently once more, drawing you to the road. The woods which remained were dense and dark, deeper than you’d ever ventured as a child. But if that house had always been there, you would have played in this section instead. It’s no different.

The suburban neighborhood was quiet, the streetlamp above casting a long shadow over a car parked at the curb, and from the end of the driveway, you were able to see the waddling shape of a skunk moving purposefully across a manicured lawn, several yards away. Headlights lit the street briefly, a zooming compact car bearing the lit rooftop sign of a local pizza franchise turning into a driveway near the corner.

Rocking on the curb in front of the house, you’d held your breath and waited.

There were all the familiar sounds of suburbia which you knew so well: the dim sound of traffic from the main road, several blocks away from the twisting nest of side streets, lessened at this hour, but never entirely ceasing; the sound of music and childish shouting coming the home of one of the neighbors, the slam of a car door and the roar of an engine, as the pizza delivery car turned out of the driveway on two wheels, red brake lights flaring to life for only an instant before the car careened around the corner, out of sight. There was something else there as well, some unseen thrum of electricity that made your skin prickle pleasantly and your blood hum, and you’d been certain it was coming from the woods.

An interminable moment went by before you’d decided. This was the neighborhood you’d grown up in, and there was nothing of which to be afraid. Rocking forward one last time, you left the curb and crossed the road.

It was dimmer on the other side of the road, the streetlamp’s halo of light not quite extending that far, but the edge of the woods had seemed comfortably familiar as you walked through the grass leading to the treeline. You’d hesitated once more, closing your eyes to listen for the crunch of sticks or a rustle in the underbrush that might indicate you were not actually alone, but all you’d been able to hear was the sound of the neighbor’s children laughing in their playroom, and a car door slamming several houses away. The thrum of energy seemed stronger, and you pushed through the trees, stepping carefully. The peaty smell of dead leaves and bark brought a wave

You hadn’t gone more than ten feet when you were stopped.

Careful. There’s some water just ahead, and the rocks are terribly slippery.

You’d frozen, terror-stricken at the unexpected voice and unable to place from which direction it had come. Stupid, so stupid! What the hell are you thinking, going traipsing through the woods in the dark?! A million possible scenarios flooded through your mind, each one more terrifying and grisly than the next, but your mysterious navigator did not show themselves. They’re waiting to see what you do next. The thudding of your heartbeat was loud enough to surely alert them to your whereabouts, and your eyes casted about wildly, seeking the hidden shape of an assailant in the trees...but there had been no one. Play it cool...just thank them and walk away.

“Th-thank you,” you’d squeaked out, listening for the telltale rustle of branches, but the woods around you remained still and silent. “I...appreciate that.”

You’d turned around carefully, and managed to make it back to the treeline unmolested, although your pulse had still been racing. You heardit again, just as you’d stepped back through the branches, the safety of the streetlamp’s glow just ahead.

Come back in the daytime when there’s more light. The creek is very pretty, but you’ll want to know which spots to avoid.

The voice was just as clear and distinct as it had been in the dark woods, although you'd been positive you’d not been followed. Neither male nor female, the voice was smooth and even, with a slightly buzzy quality, like the hum of an old-fashioned television, it hadn’t come from the woods behind you, nor from your left or right...it had come from your head.

You ran. Realizing that you were technically running from nothing, you’d managed to slow to a casual jog, just in case any of the neighbors were peering from their windows, as though sprinting out of the woods hours after sunset was the most normal undertaking in the world.

It had only been a bit after eleven p.m. when you’d let yourself back into the house that night, but you’d immediately gone to your room and collapsed into your childhood bed, falling into a deep sleep, full of dark trees and a pulsing, thrumming energy.

It was several days before you went back.

At first you’d been afraid, convincing yourself that there had been someone there, that there must have been some odd reverberation from the trees which had made the sound seem as though it were coming from closer than it was.

But the sound hadn’t just been close.

It had been right in your head, as if you’d thought the words yourself! There was no way for an echo from the trees to carry into your consciousness, was there?

There was an old picnic table on the side of the house, one your mother had been telling your father to drag to the curb for several years, and you made quick work of dragging it around the house and across the yard. Pulling across the street had been a bit trickier, as had been hoisting it over the curb and across the hidden rits in the short field, but soon you had it positioned where you wanted it—close enough to the dense treeline for you to tell if that same thrumming hum was present, and just far enough for you to have a decent head start on anyone, or anything, that might come barreling through the trees.

It was a good spot to sketch, you thought that first evening, glad you’d brought a spiral-bound pad as an excuse. The light was softly diffused, and from your spot at the low table, you had a perfect view of the sunset between the houses, leaving the sky a wash of pink and orange, and you wasted no time in getting to work.

That’s quite good. You’re very talented.

You became so engrossed with capturing the wisping clouds, that you’d forgotten your purpose at the table before the trees, jumping in surprise when that same voice resonated in your head. There was no one looking over you, as their words implied, and you took a shuddering breath, your fight or flight response moving into overdrive.

“Th-thank you,” you called out uncertainly, carefully positioning your legs in a way that would allow you to spring away from the table if needed. “Um...who...where are you?”

You don’t need to be afraid, the voice responded, jumping over your question to address the audible thump of your heartbeat. I’m not going to hurt you, there’s no threat from me...I live here. In the woods. Have you lived here very long? I’ve only been here a few years myself, but I don’t remember you visiting before.

You blinked. It seemed to be such an innocuous conversation, as if the fact that they were an unseen voice issuing from inside your head meant little next to their desire for gossip. “I-I used to live here. My parents live across the street, this is where I grew up. I used to play in these woods for hours, I was sad to see so much of it had been cut down.”

Your answer surprised you, shocked that you were apparently going to play along with...whatever this was.

Ah, yes, I imagine that was disappointing. The bittersweetness of lost childhood coupled with the loss of nature...well, I’m glad that you’ve found some solace in the bit of green space left. You really are very talented. Is art your profession?

You’d nearly laughed aloud. You’d gone on only a handful of dates in the past year, and none had seemed as interested in you as this mysterious voice!

“I’m hoping to make it more than just a hobby,” you replied, unable to keep the smile from your face. Perhaps it’s a tree nymph, unable to leave the forest? “Thank you for the compliment.”

You went in not long after, and the voice had expressed regret that your conversation had to come to an end.

“I’ll be back,” you’d blurted, not thinking your actions through. Despite your initial trepidation, it had been a nice conversation. “I live just across the street, and this is a nice place to sketch...I’ll definitely be back. Maybe tomorrow?”

Tomorrow had turned into every day that week, several hours on Sunday, and clear into the following week in the blink of an eye. You couldn’t explain why you felt so comfortable with the voice, only that you did. Their words to you that first evening at the picnic bench had proved to be true—you sensed absolutely no threat from them. You were naturally quiet with a tendency to stay in your shell around most people, but at the low bench facing the woods with your back to the street, you felt free to be sociable.

They were insatiably curious about the neighborhood, and you couldn’t help but think it was adorable.

Do you think they’ll have children? Or a dog? they mused over the new house which was now being steadily constructed. I hope not, they can be so noisy...oh, but isn’t that what a house away from the city is for? Hopefully it’ll be a nice family with children who respect the woods as much as you did.

It was later that night, three weeks after you’d first dragged the table across the street, that it happened for the first time.

Tomorrow I’ll bring lunch out to the table...I wish we could have a picnic together. You did not give voice to the words in your head as you crossed the street, heading in before the mosquitoes got to be too overbearing. It would have been nice to have a picnic lunch with your mysterious friend, but you knew not to push the issue. A tree nymph...or maybe some sort of faerie. They had never offered their name, and you felt awkward asking at that point, and had never volunteered to come out of the forest, wherever it was they were hidden.

That sounds nice! You can tell me all about it, and I’ll tell you about the fight that happened over the weekend!

Your face pulled into a smile, charmed by their customary cheerfulness and love of gossip, thinking of the backyard swim party that had somehow turned into a multi-family brawl two streets away, a story you’d only heard snippets of from the ladies at the shelter, when you froze.

You hadn’t spoken your picnic plans aloud.

Are—are you able to hear me?

You were standing on the sidewalk facing your house, not daring to turn back to the woods, certain you’d imagined the cheery response...when it came again.

I am! How nice! This is almost like having one of those cellular devices!

You’d smiled, shaking your head fondly as your stomach flipped. Having them inside your head...that was different, you thought. Different, but not entirely unwelcome? After all, you rationalized, hadn’t you just been muttering to yourself that same morning that missed having actual friends to talk to throughout the day?

Well? Did bun fun time end in disaster?

We’ll never know, you thought back with a laugh. I left before Biscuit managed to trip her, but I’m sure I’ll find out when I go back later this week.

Your mother had plans to redecorate several rooms in the house, roping you into her planning the instant you stepped into the house that evening, but you managed to escape shortly after dusk, slipping out the side door and hurrying across the street.

Sorry, you announced, throwing a leg over the bench, my mom is obsessed with turning the house into something from HGTV. I’m really glad to be home and saving money, but sometimes I miss the simplicity of my apartment. You laughed, nearly missing their wistful sigh.

It must be nice having a house. It’s a space of one’s own, of course she’s excited to keep it looking beautiful!

Swallowing, you considered their words, thinking again of them being tethered to a tree. You—you’ve never lived in a house?

I haven’t, they confirmed. But I do so love the look of them. What are you drawing tonight? Have you started working on your commission yet?

The conversation had been thoroughly changed, but their words echoed in your mind long after you went in for the night, after they’d wished you a tender goodbye.

Sweet dreams, I hope you have a good morning.

Goodnight, you mentally called as you crossed the front lawn. I’ll talk to you tomorrow.

I...I think we should meet. The words were out before you were able to control your traitorous thoughts, and your cheeks instantly heated. You had a habit of speaking without thinking, but this was really putting your foot in it, you considered, as all you had to do was control your thoughts. When no immediate answer was forthcoming, you pushed on as the fire spread to your ears. Don’t you? It’s just...it would be nice to finally have a conversation in person.

...I don’t know if that’s wise. Its voice was a murmur, more subdued than you could ever remember it being previously, and your heart fell. Things might be very different in person, and this has been so nice.

I agree, you argued vehemently. This has been the nicest summer of my life. I don’t see anything changing once we’re face to face, why would it?

Your pulse had begun to thud in your ears as they hesitated, another uncharacteristic element to their normal conversation. You managed to hold back voicing the depth of your feelings, the desire that heated your body when you were alone in your bed at night. The memory of the dream you’d had was still strong, still replayed in your mind almost every night, your fingers moving down your body to push between your legs and finding yourself slick at the thought of being with your mysterious friend.

We may not be very compatible.

The bottom your chest seemed to drop as your heart plummeted down to your feet. Not compatible. There had never been anyone else with whom you’d been more compatible, and you couldn’t foresee yourself having such a strong bond with anyone else, not the way you had with them. Not compatible. This was just a game to them, just a way to pass the time, and you’d gone and assigned it feelings which were clearly one-sided. You weren’t anything special at all.

That’s not what I meant—

I think we should leave things here then. Your eyes blurred with tears, unable to keep the thought from barreling forward, even though it hurt. No sense in wasting each other’s time if we’re so incompatible. This has been fun, but...all good things must come to an end, I guess. You spun on your heel and headed back into the shelter to finish the rest of your volunteer shift, closing your consciousness to the effortless connection you had with the invisible voice.

For the first time in weeks, your mind was silent.

You’d felt on edge throughout the day.

Your concentration on even the smallest tasks was not existent, your gaze constantly settling on an invisible point in the middle distance, your thoughts a jumble.

The voice in your head had remained silent, and it was tearing you up.

You hadn’t gone this long without speaking to them since that first night on the edge of the woods, hadn’t realized that the absence of their chatter would leave you feeling as though you were suffering through the days. You regretted making things awkward and wished you could take back your words, but it wasn’t as though you were able to call or text them, couldn’t swing by their house on your way home from the shelter. You didn’t know how to fix things, although you badly wanted to try.

Things were beginning to open up, life slowly returning to normal, and you needed to start applying for jobs, you conceded, or else, start looking into university programs. You could go back to your alma mater, you considered, or investigate some of the other options which weren’t terribly far away. There was a state school just outside the closest city, and just beyond that was a community which housed a small, private university with an excellent liberal arts college…

You needed to start thinking about what was next, but the idea of doing so without your friend, whoever, whatever they were, broke your heart.

The rest of your shift at the animal shelter passed in a blur, and you hardly paid any mind to Marcie’s prattling or humblebragging, shouldering past her the instant you spotted the next volunteer up in the office window. She’d huffed when she realized your intent and that she’d not be able to leave first, calling out with a dodgy-sounding excuse, but you’d ignored the whine in her voice and pressed on. Your mother had mentioned needing your help with something when you got home, and you usually didn't take your sketchbook down to the picnic table until dusk, but you beelined across the street that evening, the moment you’d pulled into the driveway.

You felt the thrum, the familiar connection with the unseen force and your mind sparked, just before a stream of conversation exploded in your head.

I didn’t mean incompatible regarding our personalities. You’re funny and talented and kind and I love spending time with you, of course I do! Their voice burst to life behind your eyes, speaking in a rush as if they were afraid of being cut off again, and your chest heaved at their words. I only meant that we’re not...the same. I’m not like you. And...and I didn't want that to spoil things.

You understood their meaning immediately. Of course they weren’t human, how could they think you would assume they were?! You had been having telepathic conversations with them for the better part of the summer, and you thought constantly about what they might be, but you hadn’t wanted to ask, and it hadn’t seemed important. You had shared with them a part of yourself which was hard to share with anyone, a part of yourself you increasingly felt disinclined to share with anyone but them. You loved the sense of security you felt with them in your mind, their clever banter and humor, their innocent wistfulness when it came to the neighborhood. You loved spending time with them, loved...them. You loved them, and it didn’t matter what they were.

The town was predominately human, was all human, as far as you knew. There had been whispers when you’d gone to the local high school about certain families being werewolves and other creatures, but there had never been any proof, as far as you’d known, and you had no idea if any of them were still in the area...but there were towns where multiple species lived side-by-side. There had been a handful of non-human students at your university, and when you’d venture into the city with friends, there would be orcs and goblins and minotaurs, all crowding the restaurants and light rail trains, bustling up the sidewalks. There was a hair salon you’d visited a handful of times which was run by blue-skinned nymphs, and for her twenty-first birthday, your best friend had wanted to go to a posh nightclub in the city, where the doorman had been a brawny minotaur and the bartender a tall, green-skinned man with sparkling, laughing eyes. You weren’t worried about an inter-species relationship.

I don’t think it will, you challenged. Do you honestly think I’ve been assuming I’m talking to some random human sitting on a log in the woods? Of course I know you’re...different.

It’s not that simple, they began after another pause, interrupted this time by the clang of your phone ringer. Your mother. You sighed, knowing she’d be irritated to learn you were home and were actively avoiding helping her.

Look, you began, silencing the phone. I need to go, but we’re not done discussing this, okay? I’ll be out later.

Later, unfortunately, never arrived. Your mother was organizing the basement, an undertaking that seemed as if it would have no end, and it had been night by the time you’d finally trudged upstairs to shower away the grime. It was late, too late to go sit in the dark and have the conversation that you needed to have, and your head felt heavy, eyes aggravated from the dust of your chore. Skipping dinner, you went from the shower to your bed, dropping to sleep almost immediately.

Moonlight lit a small clearing in the deepest part of the forest across the road. You were dimly aware of its glow overhead, seeing it as you were from under a translucent surface, as if you were under water. Under water, yet...suspended, somehow. There was a humming, a pulse of energy more than an audible sound, and it shivered up your spine, making the hair on your neck stand on end. A pumping rhythm, a pulsing throb that escalated in its intensity until you were able to feel it thudding through you, matching your heartbeat and the pulse between your thighs. The rhythm engulfed you, pumping, pulsing, throbbing against you from every side until your body began to shake, waves of ecstasy arching your spine.

You sat up in bed, gasping.

Moonlight flooded through the windows, bathing the end of the bed in light, and you struggled to slow your breathing. It was a dream about them, your voice, you knew it. You didn’t know why you were so certain, couldn’t account for the strange sensation of being completely engulfed...but you knew it was true. Tingles still rippled up your spine and you could almost still feel the pulsing tension encasing you...You need to go to the woods. They would be there, and you would find them. As you clutched at the bed sheets, desperately trying to recover from the explosive climax in your dream, you couldn’t find any fault with your own line of reasoning.

The road was still, as you crept out of the house, careful not to wake your parents, and the air was silent, save for the buzz and chirp of crickets. Unlike that first night when you’d rocked off the curb to venture to the trees, it was truly late, the moon high in an inky-black sky. High, but still bright, and you were grateful as the moonlight filled in the gaps where the streetlamp diminished. You felt the thrum of energy, the familiar prickle of heat against your skin, and pushed into the trees without hesitation.

You knew where to step, which spots to avoid, and were grateful for the time you’d spent in the daylight hours, exploring the front part of the wood. You’d never gone very deep into the thick of the trees, but you would need to that night, you realized. You felt the soft hum of energy, felt your body responding to it...and pushed forward, following it into the darkness.

You knew you’d reached your destination before even breaking through the trees to the clearing, felt the buzz of energy beneath your skin so strongly you were nearly vibrating with it. The small hollow was bathed in moonlight, ringed in dark woods, and at its center sat them. Your voice, your constant companion for the last several months. You immediately understood why they’d been so worried over meeting, why they’d thought this might end things...but they were wrong, you decided. You would figure things out.

They were completely translucent and roughly the size of your neighbor’s Volkswagen, and as you approached cautiously, the dew drop trembled.

You’re so lovely

The voice in your head was soft, and heat rushed to your cheeks. You were still trembling from earlier, still not quite completely down from your climactic high, and as you gazed around the small clearing, so like the one in your dream, you had a thought.

I had a dream, you began, stomach flipping when they quickly confirmed.

Yes...I was able to sense you.

It was you, wasn’t it? You weren’t sure why it hadn’t occurred to you earlier, how real the dream had felt, why it had been so hard to catch your breath afterwards, as if you really had been submerged...Was that you calling for me?

Not exactly, they hesitated, and your shoulders slumped a bit, but their next words stalled your disappointment. I was...dreaming, I suppose. Dreaming of you.

The ramifications of their meaning took a moment for your mind to absorb. Dreaming...of me? Were we-were we sharing a dream?!

It would seem so, they hummed, and you drifted closer, unable to keep yourself from reaching out. I’ve never had a connection with another being so strongly before, and your consciousness...well, we’re very in-tune.

The outside of their droplet form had a surface tension you weren’t quite expecting, with a springiness your fingers could only sink into so far. In your dream, you realized, you’d been upright, as if you’d sunk straight down into them. You needed to climb to their top, you realized, kicking off your flip flops. I want to do that again, you announced, cutting off whatever they’d been saying in their even, thrumming voice. Your toes squished against their crystalline side, struggling for purchase as you climbed the dew drop form you’d somehow managed to fall for.

The climb was not difficult, and before you knew it, you were atop the shimmering orb. The texture of their squishy surface was pleasant, and as you steadied yourself, you felt it rippling against your skin, caressing up your bare leg in a ripple, and you struggled to pull off your pajama shorts. Bare from the waist down, you balanced on your knees and waited.

You began to sink slowly.

Too slowly, you griped to yourself, for the sucking, rippling sensation against the fronts of your legs as they were slowly submerged sent shockwaves of feeling up your body, and you were eager to feel it pressed against the far more sensitive bits of your anatomy.

You weren't sure if you’d begun to roll your hips or if their surface had begun to undulate in a wave-like pattern, but before you could think better of it you were grinding against them, gasping in pleasure as your hips moved. Cool and silky, and every time you managed to move your hips at just the right angle, the quivering surface kissed your clit, and you redoubled your efforts in order to feel it again.

You were submerged to your thighs at that point, so close to feeling the gelatinous ripples against the spot where you needed it most, when you mind buzzed with their voice.

Hold still. Their voice was a bit firmer than usual, sending a thrill of excitement down your neck, quick to obey their direction. Hold still, and stay straight. Let yourself sink straight down.

You wondered if they had spots where they were sensitive, if the inside of their gelatinous form had more sensation than the outside, if you sinking into them was as pleasurable for them as it was for you. Only one way to find out...Holding stock still, you did as they requested, keeping till and straight, allowing yourself to sink directly down.

The effects were instantaneous.

There was a pulsing churn within their crystalline depth, kneading against your sex rhythmically, a silky press against your clit that made you see stars. Your neck dropped back, but you did not fall. The dome-like surface you’d climbed upon had shifted, energy from within being rediverted, and three thick, tentacle-like protrusions pushed upwards, somehow retaining the surface tension of the dome, wrapping around each of your arms and curling around your back until you were fully supported.

Within the translucent dome of energy, something similar was happening.

Much as you’d ground against them as you waited to sink, you felt a rolling pressure against your slick folds. It was nearly like being underwater, the thrumming currents churning within reminding you of the jets of a whirlpool, although the idea that your mysterious friend might be experiencing the same pleasure you were made the entire adventure that much more satisfying. The sensation against your clit had become a sucking, pulsing throb, and the first warning tremors of climax were just quivering through you when you felt something entirely different added to the mix.

A current of the interior ooze, solidifying loosely to form another of the tentacles which supported you, with none of the outside surface tension. It was impossible to explain, and when it tentatively pushed into you, the need for explanation vanished as you moaned into the night air. You’d been surrounded in your dream, completely engulfed by the pulsing churn within the dome of their form, but now you were partially free, able to be an active participant in your own pleasure, and you cried out again.

“I’m so close,” you gasped aloud, forgetting to voice your thoughts silently. “Please don’t stop.”

The fluid tentacle within you writhed, pumping into you with the same pulsing energy as the sucking press at your clit, and your tentative dam of control broke at last. Your body shook within its gelatinous suspension, your core convulsing rhythmically against the fluid tentacle inside you, and your mind buzzed. It took you another moment to realize the buzzing energy was their own release vibrating against you until the sensation against your sensitive pearl was enough to wring another climax from your body. The stars above you in the inky black sky suddenly seemed impossibly bright, bright and close, and then the world went dark.

When you woke, you were cocooned in their gel-like center.

Your head was pillowed against the outside of the dome, and it was surprisingly comfortable and warm, the most comfortable mattress you’d ever slept upon. The tenderness with which they enveloped you stole your breath.

You’re so lovely, they murmured again, pleasant sparks pricking your skin at the sound in your head. I’ve missed you so much. I never meant to hurt you.

I know. It’s my fault too. It was just a miscommunication.

Can things go back to the way they were?

You waited several long moments before answering. Could they? You loved their humor and cheerfulness, didn’t want to be miserable without them again...but you couldn’t go backwards. Not now.

I don’t think so.

You felt their deflation before the small ‘oh’ sounded in your head, and you struggled to move your hand, to stroke at their smooth interior.

I don’t want things to go back, you explained quickly. But-but that doesn’t mean they can’t go forward. Their silence was a heavy weight, and you pushed forward unerringly. Schools are opening back up, and I need to think about work, about going back to school.

You’re going to leave.

Their voice was sad, sadder than you could bear and you pressed your cheek to their surface. I am...but you can come with me. There’s a town, it’s not even that far away, just on the other side of the city! Different species all live together there. I didn't even realize it until I was looking at the university’s website this week...if I get into the art program there, you could come with me. They have really cute little houses and condos for student housing and I’ll have a stipend, and-and there’s a forest if you can’t manage anything else.

Their domed surface had begun to recede, until you were able to stumble free.

A-a house? In a neighborhood?

Their voice was wondrous, and you laughed. That’s up to you.

You thought they were reforming into the great dewdrop again as they began to shift, but something else was happening, you realized. As you watched, their form began to shrink; shrink inwards, drawing energy inside and reforming until a shimmering, translucent, vaguely-human form stood before you.

I can manage, they announced, and you laughed as they once more swelled, engulfing you once more.

Good. You snuggled into their gelatinous confines, yawning hugely. We’ve got a lot of planning to do in that case. But first...do you have a name?

Their voice was tremulous, and you were glad you’d finally asked.

Talse.

Talse...two little syllables, easy on your tongue. Talse...wake me up just after sunrise. You’re really comfortable!

You recognized the thrum of energy in your mind as their laughter, and settled in against their squish.

Coming home for the summer had been a wonderful plan.

#exophilia #monster lover #monster x reader #monster x human #dewdrop #monsterbait writes #monster match

362 notes · View notes

ryewi · 5 years

Text

v for victory - kth

Summary: For as long as you know for yourself, your mother and your first neighbor Mrs. Kim held a never ending prank war. They were just that petty to get back at each other for an accident that happened in high school. It didn’t help that you somehow fell in love with Taehyung, Mrs. Kim’s only son. Or did it?

Genre: Boyfriend!Tae, c r a c c / humor, fluff

Words: 7k

Warnings: language, but other than that none~

Early AN: Probably one of my favorite pieces I’ve written. I had so much fun writing this.

Moments in which your mother discussed her mischievous plans organized against Mrs. Kim weren’t frequent. She’d usually keep all of the ideas to herself, arranging them in silence and secrecy, only to surprise everyone when ready. The pranks your mother pulled were of all categories, ranging from bribing the neighborhood kids to egg her windows to calling her phone just to say “sike”.

Mrs. Kim, whose first name you didn’t know, wasn’t any less of a devil. That rotten bitch, as she was referred to in this household, pulled pranks quite often too. Whether it was delivering fake news or setting off the annoying alarm on your black Honda CR-V at 2am. Sometimes, you asked, did these women ever notice how obsessed they were with each other? Would really any type of enemies put this much effort into planning how to spite the other?

The reasons behind their escapades were something you thought you could only find in movies. The kind in which one woman steals another’s man, and she gets her back by spilling a drink on her dress or something. Just, in this case, Mrs. Kim stole your mother’s best friend, dating him for three weeks, during which she completely ruined their (reportedly) strong friendship. Your mother replied to that by sending Mrs. Kim’s nude to everyone in school. Ever since then, they got back at each other, back and forth – and it didn’t help that years later, with their respective families, they’ll purchase houses that were right next to each other.

You used not to care about their childish fights when you were young, probably because they weren’t on each other’s necks as much as they are now.

Or maybe because back then, firstly your best friend, now boyfriend, wasn’t Kim Taehyung, Mrs. Kim’s only son.

Your mother called a meeting in the kitchen, explaining that this is the greatest idea she has had in a while and that the whole family needs to hear it. Being a number one fan of these daily doses of entertainment, your father was the first one to take a seat on a big cushioned chair. She began what seemed like the most dramatic speech ever, introducing the main role, your dog Orwell, for a decent half of it.

Once the presentation was over, you made a beeline towards your room, trying to sustain the laughs that were threatening to spill. Your father on the other end, began coughing from the amount of air that suddenly left his lungs. The greatest idea was indeed the most hilarious one yet.

Finally reaching the safety of your bedroom, you grabbed your phone that was resting on the bedside table. Every once in a while, when a “revolutionary” (read foolish) idea has been revealed, your boyfriend would be the next person to hear about it. This time not being anyhow different, you were quick to write a short message, that’ll in a few words explain what was about to go down.

To: SpillTheTae - 15:46

“My mom’s sending Orwell to shit on your lawn in ten”

From: SpillTheTae – 15:47

“Roger that”

Opened ✓

Usually, Taehyung would walk out on the balcony, effortlessly leaning on the marble edge and waiting for your clumsy being to stumble outside before drama began. At such angle, especially when looking from the ground, he appeared as an angel. Sometimes you’d stare at his beautiful irises, feeling as if you’re in space and witnessing a thousand stars before your own eyes. He was the whole universe gathered up in one person. It wasn’t possible to completely focus on whatever was leaving Taehyung’s mouth when a pair of puppy eyes captured every bit of attention.

So, when you finally situated yourself on the balcony, you expected to lock eyes with Taehyung, instead of the “devil” herself. It was Mrs. Kim.

Her cold eyes pierced right through yours, squinting as if she’d be able to somehow burn holes into your forehead. That action dragged on for over a minute and an uncomfortable laugh was threatening to escape your lips. In the end, a puff of air managed to break free and all dignity was sent flying out the window. Mrs. Kim frowned and shook her head in discomfort.

It wasn’t a secret that she hated you as much as she hated your mother. Just the sight of the female part of your family made “that rotten bitch” frown in disgust. For no reason, you heard through Taehyung that your name was “overly baked potato’s minion” in their household. At the beginning it infuriated you, mostly because that forty something year old woman had the audacity to insult you like that. Taehyung began using it while texting you, occasionally having to just use “minion” to awaken your bratty senses, but as time passed by, it stopped being relevant.

It took around five more minutes for your boyfriend to show up, silver hair disheveled and sticking out chaotically under the hood. Taehyung wore a black oversized puma hoodie that you’ve bought him for thanksgiving last year, fully aware of what kinds of things it did to you.

“Summarize the plan, captain” he laughed, deep voice fading out into equally as dark of a chuckle. While waiting for an answer, Taehyung leant on the marble fence of his balcony, watching your mother hurryingly carry a caramel corgi across the yard.

“She figured out that Orwell should do the deed somewhere where it won’t stink as much as it usually does” you nudged your head in the direction of Mrs. Kim famous roses. The whole plan made you laugh again, so much time was wasted arranging all of this, for only two minutes of entertainment.

“No way” Taehyung gasped loud, turning around to get a better view of what’s about to happen. He, as Mrs. Kim’s son, should probably feel bad, try to prevent such acts from happening, maybe say a few words to you about this issue - except he doesn’t. Taehyung literally couldn’t care less about his mother’s roses, or the drying eggs on the windshield of their car. Nothing else other than huge amounts of amusement mattered to him. Especially after he got to know “the overly baked potato” and her “minion” (soon-to-be-his-girlfriend) lived next door.

“I swear to God if she doesn’t let him down soon, he’s going to-” you began, somehow predicting what kind of tragedy will play out. The caramel corgi couldn’t prolong the urge to do the deed any longer, casually lifting his tail and clenching his muscles. All while in the arms of your mother.

An ugly laugh escaped your lips, hand coming up to cover your mouth quick before any sound reached others. Taehyung’s eyes were the size of ripe avocados, the sight before him clearly way too comical and interesting to look away from. You were sitting on the floor, eyes watering, missing a particularly special part of what’s happening. Taehyung’s eyes remained wide open, mouth agape, but his boxy smile only grew wider the longer he watched.

Mrs. Kim seemed to notice some kind of commotion outside, her long and quick strides taking her outside just in time. Your mother was holding Orwell arm length away, over the fence and the other’s flowers. Her wrist was coated with the most disgusting stroke of dark brown, while an equally as disgusted expression decorated her face. Orwell’s face was one of relief, his mouth widening in an accidental smile, finally being offered some kind of alleviation.

“Your mother, I swear to God, I love that woman” Taehyung whispered, loud enough for you to hear, and while in your half-high state, you could only nod in response, wiping a few stray tears away. Taehyung would get along perfectly well with your mother if it wasn’t for the whole drama surrounding you. Neither of the two women know that Taehyung and you were friends, let alone in a relationship, and for a very logical reason, neither of you ever brought that topic up with them.

“Are we still ok for today?” He asked, once your mother let Orwell down and ran back inside. Her fingers pinched her nose, preventing the horrible smell of poop from causing any more torture. It was easy to catch his eyes again, balance finally on your side, as you stood up and leaned against the metal bars of the balcony.

“2? That’s in like half an hour?” You asked, eyes darting towards an imaginary watch on your wrist. He nodded and tilted his head slightly to the left, bangs falling gracefully over his face. What an angel.

“Why are you looking at me like that?”

“You don’t wanna go out, do you?” Taehyung asked, faint smile playing on his lips. It was a casual Saturday, that one day of the week no student really bothered doing schoolwork, rather dedicating the whole day to staying home and binge-watching whichever show they found suitable.

Suddenly, a yell of his name echoed throughout their house, faint sound making it to your own ears too. It startled him, look of confusion and surprise overtaking his facial expression. The voice belonged to his mother, tone harsh and hurried, familiar to the one yours used to call today’s senate. Then, as if on que, the two of you looked at each other, smiled and nodded. Apparently, Mrs. Kim has already made up a plan how to get back at your mother and it had to be set on the table as fast as possible.

“Your turn” You said.

“My turn” Taehyung replied.

“Well then, text me when it’s over, Taehyungie”

⊱ ────── {.⋅ ✯ ⋅.} ────── ⊰

“Oh, dear lord”

Taehyung’s head rested comfortably on your lap, legs raised on to the bench. His hands flapped around the free space available, explaining whichever fiasco was going on in his house. If you heard and understood right, over the obnoxiously loud volume of your laughter, Mrs. Kim was going to hire a kid two blocks away to knock at your door and throw a cake into your mother’s face. Taehyung’s face was one of pure disbelief, left hand occasionally coming up to his mouth while his eyes rolled the perfect 360. Your parents were most definitely bigger kids than you were when you were 5.

Your hands threaded through Taehyung’s soft strands of hair, gently massaging his scalp and earning satisfied groans in return. Taehyung loved when you played with his hair, your fingers moving just right to completely relax him.

Looking into the distance, your eyes caught a relatively special sight. A boy and a girl sprinted across the park, hiding behind a set of ramified bushes, evidently running away from someone. Upon following the direction of their gaze, you saw a middle-aged woman with a stern face pacing through the same path they ran by just a minute ago.

In unison, as if annunciated, Taehyung and you spoke up.

“Remember when that happened to us?”

Two years ago, Taehyung asked you to come hang out with him at the nearby park. He planned on informing you about the newest plan that was in conception inside of the Kim house. Back then, your friendship was relatively new, the excitement of having such a special friend resulting in constant meetings with the other. After finding out that the women in “fight” were your mothers, you became extremely close, almost inseparable. Daily stories brought you out almost daily, smiles and laughs way too important to miss.

Just as he was setting his head down onto your shoulder, listening to whatever you had to say, Taehyung’s eyes caught a sight of a way too familiar woman. One of relatively small built, short brown hair and straight posture, walking with a slight jump in her steps. Taehyung’s hand immediately grabbed yours, dragging you away from the bench and behind thick bush just a few steps to the left. It took a moment for you to realize what was happening, especially after witnessing Taehyung’s brazen smile as he peeked over the branches.

It was Mrs. Kim, probably returning from her work earlier than expected. She didn’t seem to notice you, eyes staring far into the distance, looking but not seeing. Thankfully, your boyfriend managed to spot her and react, before your agreement burned to ashes.

The agreement? The two of you decided to not reveal the friendship (relationship) to your parents, or at least the female half until you’ve had your fair share of entertainment. There was a modest dose of irrational fear that if they somehow managed to gain the knowledge of you two, they wouldn’t continue their war; probably put off by the idea of their children being friends. So, until any kind of notice, Taehyung sealed the deal with a pinky promise that the friendship will only ever stay a secret inside of the two households.

Somehow, eventually, your father found out, probably upon noticing his daughter waiting for someone in front of their gate, every single workday. Upon further exploration, and interrogation, he got you to admit it was Taehyung you waited for, followed by the whole history of your friendship and your previously stated agreement. He promised to not voice out a word about it to your mother, very understanding of your reasons. Unfortunately, his knowledge only reached to the friendship barrier, the detail that Taehyung was your boyfriend now, still very well hidden from him.

“That was so long ago, why am I still putting up with you?” You sarcastically said, moving a few stray strands away from his forehead, smiling the moment your eyes met. Taehyung had beautiful, big brown eyes that always comforted you and brought a certain feeling of home. You often wondered how on heaven’s earth did you get so lucky to be blessed with the angel named Kim Taehyung? Have you mayhaps ended World War II to get such a chance in life?

“Have you ever thought about teaming up against them?” Taehyung asked, hope noticeable in his voice.

“To be honest, no, but now that you’ve mentioned it, it seems pretty interesting” You replied, already intrigued by his idea. Then, wouldn’t that make your relationship known, therefore interrupting the chain reaction of constant pranks?

Anyway, it didn’t matter, because the conversation didn’t grow from there. The suggestion didn’t have any positive nor negative outcome, question barely floating in the air before it disappeared. Truly, what would you do? The creativeness of your parents was way above yours, would you ever be able to compete with these masterminds?

Upon your walk home, you passed by an all too familiar household. The Charles. A two floored, obnoxiously white house with curtains that were always hiding the inside from the outside world. In there, lived an elderly couple that no one liked. Especially the younger part of the neighborhood. Of course, Taehyung and you fell into that group of people too.

Why so? It was simple – they were complete and utter cunts. Imagine two pre-pubescent 12 year olds that are going through their “quirky” phase, trying to mess with other teenagers and prove themselves as the shits? Exactly, pair that up with raging hormones of the previously mentioned teenagers – all trapped inside of two eighty something year old bodies. Science still can’t explain such a phenomenon.

Suddenly, Taehyung felt small ball of strange texture hitting the back of his head. Cringing and craning his neck back, Taehyung felt a sticky and wet patch on the place he has been hit on. Immediately looking down and noticing a tiny wet and scrunched up paper ball, Taehyung’s eyes moved up to witness the door closing.

“Fucking hell, don’t you have some decency? Wrinkly rag” Taehyung hissed at the direction of their door, hand rubbing the back of his neck. It wasn’t the (non-existent) physical pain that irritated him, it was mostly the mental pain that he had to endure each time such thing happened. And to know that it will happen again the next time he passed by, wasn’t offering him any kind of relief. Were all adults and elders in this part of the town more childish than the younger citizens of it?

“I’m getting sick of them, ever since I saw that old man’s tinky winky, I gag at even the slightest sight of their house” You added, hand coming up to hold at the bottom of your throat, choking sounds leaving your lips. Taehyung audibly gasped at your proclamation, eyes almost popping out of their sockets. When your head turned to look at him, his mouth that hung wide open greeted you.

“He showed you his what?!” He yelled, not believing the words that left your mouth just a few seconds ago.

“Taehyung you’re acting as if I asked him to show it to me! Didn’t you tell me the woman flashed you a few weeks ago too?!” Now it was your time to laugh, but your entertainment was soon cut short, as Taehyung decided to remind you of the terror he went through. Very vividly.

“Her tits were the saggiest shit ever when I tell you! I swear to God titties have been ruined for me ever since that happened!” Taehyung bit back, hand covering his big eyes quick, as if closing them will prevent the mental image from playing before them. If Taehyung had a chance to delete any memory from his mind, no matter how horrifying or embarrassing, he’d choose to forget those two sacks of fat reaching the other’s knees. Gosh that was such a terrifying sight.

“When we’re talking about unfortunate events regarding “family exhibition kink”, remember when Hoseok said he saw them-”

“I swear to god if you put one more mental image into my head- the poor guy couldn’t sleep with anyone for weeks because of that!” Taehyung whined, shaking his head extremely fast, flashbacks of Hoseok’s storytime replaying in his mind.

“How about we use them as a diversion for our counterattack on our mothers?” you asked, to which Taehyung only hummed along, mumbling something along the lines of “we’ll see”.

⊱ ────── {.⋅ ✯ ⋅.} ────── ⊰

Usually, your father was home during this time of the day, but thankfully to his old discovery, Taehyung was able to freely visit and hang out at yours whenever suitable. To be quite honest, your father adored the tall, ashy haired boy. Taehyung’s appearance always bribed out the biggest smile from him. Somehow, they shared similar interests. Although the age gap was over 20 years, their conversations were always so intense and interesting to listen to. It didn’t help that both of them were so well spoken, many great ideas and points expressed and left hanging in the air, waiting for someone to catch, write down and forever remember.

Often, Taehyung would forget the time your mother came back from work (you’d too, of course), but thankfully, your father was there to alarm you. He’d either speak loudly when the entrance door opened, or he’d beat the woman to it and open the door before she did it herself, automatically drawing attention.

Then, Taehyung, with his recently discovered trait of having cat legs (always falling on to his feet), would open the back window and jump outside, firstly finding purchase on your hind plastic container, then the ground and over the high fence into his own garden. When he tried escaping for the first time, the container wasn’t there, therefore he had to think quick before the woman climbed up into the room. Having long legs, under the bed wasn’t a suiting spot and being way too tall, the inside of your small closet wasn’t available either.

Just two seconds after his jump, you heard a painful groan from beneath the window, but there was no time, you only had enough of it to close the window and draw the curtains.

Only later, did you find out that Taehyung sprained his ankle and had to lie about it to his parents.

From: SpillTheTae – 17:31

“I sprained my ankle and had to blame it on running after the bus”

To: SpillTheTae – 17:32

“Taehyung you never take the bus”

From: SpillTheTae – 17:34

“I fucking know! Now I’m grounded because mom thinks I left our area without telling her???”

To: SpillTheTae – 17:34

“Y-you’re an adult, y-you can move wherever you want Taehyung”

From: SpillTheTae – 17:35

“Mind coming over and explaining that to her? :)”

To: SpillTheTae – 17:36

“I’d rather not lol”

Seen ✓

This time however, Taehyung made sure to check outside for the position of the green container. Unsurprisingly, it was on its place, waiting for the impact that was yet to come. Taehyung sat on your bed, patting the empty spot beside him. Taking it as a que to join him, you crossed the small distance between your now closed door and the comfort of your bed. His big hands found purchase on your waist, swift movement bringing your frame down to comfortably rest on his strong lap. A barely audible sigh left your lips, already occupied by another pair on them.

Kissing Taehyung always felt magical, different factors upping the experience each time that it happened. His hands would often escape under your arms, wrapping around tender shoulder blades, as he tried to pull you the closest he ever could to himself. They’d often stray underneath the thin fabric of the shirt you wore, but only for a second, before finding their next purchase. Taehyung’s lips would sometimes graze the sensitive spots under your soft jawline, bribing out the most beautiful of sounds that served as a reward to his delicate work. You’d push him down so his back rested over the comfortable covers, never failing to notice whenever his exceptionally big palms moved south, cupping or squeezing your ass.

It was a surprise that your father never asked you about any deeper relation that you might have with Taehyung. Usually, he’d ask about your best friend, nothing more, referring to the boy you brought home way too often. Truthfully, he has had his fair share of doubts, but upon going years without any notice, they were dismissed, the image of perfect best friends replacing them. Maybe it was for the better.

After thirty minutes of a rather steamy make out session, you laid on Taehyung’s side, one leg propped over his, fingers trailing invisible patterns on his wide chest. The boy was humming a familiar melody, the one that he had reserved for special moments like these. Rarely he would sing, self-conscious about his singing voice, despite your repetitive attempts at convincing otherwise.

Abruptly, the door clicked. The alarm went off.

“Oh, you’re home early again!” Your father all but screamed at your mother, spit probably spraying all over her beautiful face. She greeted him with as much enthusiasm, first hugging and then kissing the other with much love, like always. She disposed her heavy handbag on to the living room table, hefty coat already draped over the coat hanger. Your mother was quick to ask if you’ve arrived home, already familiar with your usual Saturday whereabouts.

Usually, upon seeing the open door of your room, the other would reply yes, waiting for your happy frame to pop up and run towards them. This time, unlike all the others, it didn’t happen and your father began panicking. Have you not heard him? Did the two of you fall asleep?

“How did your day go?” The man tried again, voice rising in volume for at least two TV lines. The woman looked at him with confusion in her eyes, uncertain as for why did her husband begin screaming all of the sudden. She wanted to laugh, corners of those soft lips already tilting downwards, cheeks working in opposition and rising higher each passing moment.

“What’s up with you today?” Your mother asked, although the question was rhetorical. No answer was anticipated, feet already carrying her smaller form up the stairs and towards the closed door. The man downstairs prayed to all the outer forces that you heard him, as if this was the worst possible thing that could happen in your lives. The scene was pretty hilarious, if it were filmed and edited well enough, it would probably look like a cut from The Office.

“I think she may be sleeping!” This time you’ve heard him. Somehow, Taehyung’s humming and warm embrace managed to captivate you so well that your father’s attempts went by unnoticed. Third time’s a charm, right? Right?

Panic. That’s all you felt at that moment, pushing your boyfriend off the bed and ushering him towards the open window. Taehyung seemed to need a moment to regain his composure and thoughts, before he was moving the endless curtains, stepping over the edge and preparing for a quick jump. Even after meeting eyes with your panicked ones, he dared to steal another fast kiss, before he was off and gone.

Just in time. The door opened, presenting your mother, dressed in full black and with a huge smile spread on her lips. She walked over, enveloping you in her arms, a tight hug preventing any movement from your side. Suddenly, a faint “god damn” was heard from underneath your open window, the wind flowing through your room shutting the door quick with a loud pang. The woman let go of you, eyebrows scrunching in a confused and curious manner that overtook her features. Closing your eyes, you breathed out heavily, head moving left and right softly, disbelief filling your whole being.

“Who was that?” She asked, moving quick towards the open exit, head peeking out quick. As quick of a runner as Taehyung was, it just wasn’t enough. Exactly the moment his figure partly escaped behind the corner of your house, your mother looked out, catching the last sight of his right leg and hand that grabbed onto the edge to soften the turn. She noticed the unique pattern on their converse and shiny rings on each of their fingers – each one except the ring finger. How convenient.

“Who was that?” The woman tried again, watching as your pupils dilated and trembled. Yet, although your leg began to jump as a result of anxiety, you tried to gain some composure and regain your poker face. Somehow, it worked, hell, it was everything at stake here, and you managed to shrug and dismiss the topic with your hand in such manner that seemed perfectly convincing.

Instead of opting to stay in your room and stand a chance to continue with the investigation, you headed down the stairs, meeting a relieved looking man at the end of them. Seemingly he noticed that the procedure, apart from being a close call, went well, and after your nod of confirmation, he walked back to his usual spot on the couch.

God fucking damn you, Kim Taehyung.

⊱ ────── {.⋅ ✯ ⋅.} ────── ⊰

Since then, your mother was more cautious and attentive, questions about a possible boyfriend floating around more often. To those suggestive brow rises and “touchy subjects” your father would act rather defensive, frequently dismissing the topic with a mention of your best friend. The woman didn’t know that boy either. So, over the course of a few days, she pushed on the idea of meeting this beautiful man that you apparently hung out daily with. A seemingly easy problem to fix – apart from Taehyung’s overdramatic response when you told him Hoseok will have to do the job.

Hoseok, a close friend of yours, was someone you’ve met a year ago in school, he was a year older than Taehyung, and also a lot different personality wise from your boyfriend. He lived a few streets away and rarely did you see him out of school, but when you did, it was probably a highlight of the week.

From: SpillTheTae – 11:19

“Wow is that another man I hear coming over”

To: SpillTheTae – 11:19

“You’re invited too if you want”

From: SpillTheTae – 11:20

“If you don’t want your boyfriend’s dick to serve as war loot, then no xxx”

To: SpillTheTae – 11:20

“What if you’re wrong there?”

From: SpillTheTae – 11:20

“Your kinks are becoming more and more weird, I don’t think I can keep up baby”

Seen ✓

Hoseok’s visit went by pretty well, considering this was his first time over and first time meeting your parents. His movements were forced, legs too stiff as he crossed them over. Left heel skipped up and down repeatedly as he listened to whatever your father was saying. Hoseok was someone who has never had any problems meeting new people and blending into the environment, but this encounter with people two generations (and more) older than him, just wasn’t a favorable cup of tea.

To be quite honest, the whole situation wasn’t the most comfortable for you either. If Taehyung were on the elder's place, it might’ve brought many negative reactions from the female part of your household, but at least the hand on your knee would’ve felt more comforting. Thankfully, the man seemed to sense your discomfort and eventual hesitation to showing much skinship, so the hand retreated back to his lap.

Your father sensed the tension pretty quick, at the beginning of the whole fiasco actually. The visit seemed like this young man (that he met today) came to an interrogation rather than a casual hang out. Yet really, who really came to hang out with someone’s parents?

Taehyung, being extremely curious about the whole situation, wouldn’t stop texting you. Constant buzzing soon forced you to silence the device, but that didn’t stop him from annoying you further. Eventually, after Hoseok was cut some slack by your mother (who was pleasantly surprised that you’ve brought someone so energetic and handsome home), he relaxed further, accepting to read and reply to your boyfriend’s messages with you. To anyone else - your parents too - this act seemed like two teenagers gaming and watching videos, when it was actually three people playing, three people in the room, listening, talking.

Eventually, you suggested moving up to your room with a quick hum and thumbs up in the direction of the stairs. Hoseok shook his hand in dismissal, moving his left sleeve up to check out his wrist, no clock or accessory currently on it. Thankfully, no one else other than you managed to catch a glimpse of the unoccupied patch of skin, a small laugh escaping through your pursued lips. Forcing out a sigh, Hoseok jumped up, a slight frown on his lips, before he was quick to pull down the sleeve and head towards the door.

“You haven’t even stayed for lunch” The woman in front of you said, disappointment evident in her strong voice. “We expected you to stay a bit longer”.

“I’m sorry Mrs.,” He replied, cute pout currently situated on his lips buying him enough sympathy from the other already. “I have some errands to run, it’s a Thursday after all... I barely made some time for a visit today, although thank you from the depths of my heart for such a heartwarming welcome”. Before leaving, Hoseok made sure to bow quickly, a short ‘goodbye’ left hanging above the shoe rack as the door closed behind him.

“What a nice young man, I can only sense great energy from him” Your mother replied tone serious and determined, ready to voice out her conclusions from this meeting. “Have you ever thought about stepping your friendship up with him?” She turned to you, eyes expectant and full of optimism. Shaking your head and snorting at her direction as a sign of disbelief, you caught a sight of your father behind her, hands covering his mouth. He oh so desperately tried to sustain laughs from spilling out as the other pushed on the idea of you two being the cutest couple ever.

Oh god little did she know...

⊱ ────── {.⋅ ✯ ⋅.} ────── ⊰

Unfortunately, a secret as big as your relationship couldn’t stay undisclosed forever. Despite many attempts to stay hidden and carefully choosing your whereabouts when hanging out, it unveiled in a quite regretful and accidental matter. Now how did that exactly happen...

After whole two days of planning, Taehyung and you finally managed to wrap your minds around putting a rather easy plan into action. The whole preparation ran around faking a shocking or surprising event organized by the elderly couple a few blocks away (which, really wasn’t hard considering the Charles family), then snitch on “them” like toddlers would to their parents. Considering the overprotective nature of your mothers towards their two most precious angels, they were to get straight on to plotting a revenge. That way, both of you, the rest of the tortured teenagers and your mothers (although without an actual reason) would get some payback for all these years of torment.

The plan was seemingly flawless, the reason and time already settled, the only thing needed being realization of the said arrangement. Thankfully, even spring worked in your favor, letting you have a whole week of perfect weather for the said attainment. Only, had it not been for a rather huge detail that you seemed to completely miss.

It didn’t help that Mrs. Kim was plowing a small patch of land, for what you assumed were her future roses, at the same time. A hurried pair of young adults ran up the street and stuck to the entrance gate like bird shit instantly sticks to the windshield of a car. It didn’t take long for Mrs. Kim to notice these two exhausted creatures hurriedly catching breaths while leaning on to the wooden planks. For a quick moment, she felt a dose of empathy, even sympathy, as she straightened her back and walked towards them, ready to offer a refreshing drink. Yet, as expected, the reaction wasn’t so positive when the two heads moved up, facing the older.

“Taehyung?!” Mrs. Kim yelled her son’s name, but her eyes were boring holes into yours, intently watching each move of your muscles – waiting for a lunge. But you weren’t a predator, you weren’t an animal, a monster, whatever her crazy mind labeled you as. “What are you doing here?!” Her voice was dripping venom, but cautious steps indicated that the woman was indeed a harmless kind. All talk but no action.

“The Charles household have once again been cunts to us-” Taehyung began, voice harsh but uneven as a result of lack of breath. Despite having an admirable stamina, your boyfriend still had trouble breathing properly. Mrs. Kim still had her irises trained on to you, evidently not paying attention to whatever her son had to say. Catching every third word, she tried to understand the story, while also planning what her next words would be. Taehyung continued blabbering, letting your heartbeat and breaths steady, all while his increased in speed. You heard every word from his mouth, swearing that his acting proved to be so good that it had you believing it for a quick moment.

The woman in front of you just didn’t care, her next words being a solid proof of that. “The two of you were together?” She asked, for the first time, finally, turning to face Taehyung. Taehyung didn’t want to directly answer her question, opting to continue adding more details to the fake story, when she cut him off. “Taehyung.” A warning. “Why is she here?”

At that moment, as if called, your mother walked outside, apron still tied tightly around her waist. Her eyebrows furrowed upon seeing firstly Mrs. Kim and then Taehyung in your company. Through her mind flew a thousand possible scenarios, harmful and harmless, and she was quick to run towards your side.

“Well hello” Your mother chimed in, surprising everyone else present. A sly smile played on the corners of her lips, eyes glimmering like water under clear moonlight. Protectively, the older put an arm around your shoulders, watching as the other woman did so too to her son. Taehyung and you exchanged funny looks, cheeks rising to almost impossible heights. “What’s happening? Am I interrupting something important?”

“I’d gladly stuff your mouth with dirt to stop you from asking any more questions, but I guess Taehyung has something to tell you” Mrs. Kim said, widening her lips in a smile that didn’t quite reach her eyes. Fake as her current tolerance for the other woman. After not receiving an answer, the older whacked the back of Taehyung’s neck, making him wince in pain.

Your boyfriend was quick to comply to the previous request, repeating his speech, word by word like the two of you revised not even an hour ago. Your mother slowly, but noticeably lifted her hand from your side, now stepping forwards to look at you in disbelief, all while the boy was still talking. It was obvious that the woman had same doubts and questions that the other put on the table not a while ago.

“Now explain to me why the two of you were toget- Wait" She began, but a moment of sudden realization seemed to interrupt a train of thought. Her eyes were trained on to Taehyung who was currently tying his shoelaces, crouching with one knee on the ground. His converse looked extremely familiar, but she would’ve dismissed it as a coincidence if it wasn’t for the matching, shiny rings. On each finger except the ring finger.

“You were the one that I saw running through my yard a few days ago!” Your mother screamed, hand coming up over her mouth quick, trying to stop any unwilling gasps of realization from spilling. It was him, that son of a literal bitch. “It was you!” She pointed at him with a tender finger, almost threatening to stab him with her long nails.

Mrs. Kim looked at her son in confusion, obviously demanding some kind of explanation. To this sudden knowledge of you two “accidentally” being in each other’s presence, experiencing the same terror from “The Charle’s”, Taehyung’s appearance in your yard just added fuel to the already expanding fire. Both women weren’t stupid, the puzzle was solving itself slowly, all pieces coming to place one by one.

Then they turned towards you, eyes wide and expectant, as if you were about to reveal the world’s top secret. Your eyes were trained on the ground, sometimes moving from a stray crack in concreate to the beautiful hands and long fingers of your significant other. He seemed to look up at just the perfect moment, catching the mischievous glint that your pupils offered. If we’re going down, let’s go down with style.

Suddenly, Taehyung was lunging forwards, his huge hand enveloping yours, pulling you away and giving you little time to catch up with his fast pace. It took a few trips and slips from your part, but thankfully, Taehyung would slow down and prevent you from falling. Surprisingly, neither of the two women were running behind, just looking down the street with dumbfounded expressions and open mouth.

Taehyung took that moment to stop you and cup your cheeks, delivering a hurried but passionate kiss to your lips. There was barely enough time to reach upwards and wrap your hands around his neck, as he squeezed your hips tighter and closer to him. He didn’t intend to dive in for a second kiss, but the plump red of your lips and lovestruck eyes were way too inviting. Now, his hands moved upwards, crossing and resting on your shoulder blades, trying to portray just how much love he held for you through one tight hug. Fuck both of you were so lucky to have each other.

Honestly, the purpose of Taehyung’s kiss wasn’t to hold a make out session in the middle of the street, but he didn’t mind that it had developed into it. Breaking apart, he grabbed your delicate hand once again and continued running, all while listening to your surprised and happy giggles behind him.

He turned around through, and sent a peace sign followed by a sincere grin in the direction of the two mothers that now presented the biggest smiles of their own.

“To say that I didn’t expect this to happen, would be a lie” Your mother said, leaning against the gate with one arm. She looked at the other, nodding her head in understanding upon witnessing her smile for the first time. “It has always been in the back of my mind, just sitting there, a what if...”

“It’s like a cliché rom-com, isn’t it?” Mrs. Kim asked, voice chirpy.

“It really is, we should write this and make it a proper movie, bet it would be popular” Both women laughed, sharing one of the greatest moments together. Mrs. Kim straightened her back, wiped a few stray tears that managed to spill from laughing so suddenly, and proceeded to ask a question she never thought she would.

“Wanna come over for a cup of coffee?”

Your mother was surprised at that, but accepted the offer nonetheless. In any other situation she would’ve answered no, a huge sceptic inside of her screaming that it was a bait for whatever “that rotten bitch” was to pull out next. But today, oh today, was a different page, chapter, story, calm after the storm. Excusing herself for a moment so she could dispose her apron, your mother yelled at the other to prepare papers and pens so they can begin writing their movie plot, to which Mrs. Kim once again laughed.

Unfortunately, you weren’t there to experience the reunion. Yet, the sudden disappearance of ugly nicknames and pranks were a good enough indicator of what happened while you two were away, kissing on your favorite spot in the park.

⊱ ────── {.⋅ ✯ ⋅.} ────── ⊰

AN: Oh god this took forever to proofread,,, anyway I had so much fun writing this, hopefully you had fun reading it! This is probably the longest one shot I’ve ever written tbh,,, thank you for reading, i love u sooooo much and i hope to see you again soon!

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queen-archeron · 7 years

Text

A Surprise

I apologize for any mistakes! I didn’t fully edit this!! Enjoy!!❤️

Feyre looked out the window above the kitchen sink, watching the kids across the street play tag, running around their yard with smiles on their faces. The laughter made it’s way through the open window down the hall, and Feyre smiled to herself. For a moment, she closed her eyes, listening to that laughter as if it was down the hall, picturing it in her mind.

Her smile grew, and she continued washing the dishes, gently working away the stains. A door shut in the house and she felt Rhysand’s presence before she saw him.

“Welcome back,” she said without turning around.

“Feyre darling, you know I am perfectly capable of washing the dishes,” He teased, setting down his bag before walking up behind her to wrap his arms around her waist.

She needed to tell him, but it had to be special, and telling him while she was washing the dishes was not special. She had only known for a few days, but she wanted to be sure that he wanted this as much as she did. Rhys snapped her out of her thoughts.

“Are you okay?” He asked, resting his chin against her shoulder.

She nodded, placing the bowl she was cleaning in the drying rack. “Of course, I’m just glad you’re home.”

He smiled and kissed her cheek, keeping his position behind her as he watched her wash the dishes. He did this every day he came home from work, always tired and excited to see her.

Feeling a little playful, Feyre rose one of her hands, covered in soap, and ran it through his hair.

He gasped, jumping back and wiping it away, but when he saw her laughing, something shifted in him. He lunged forward, grabbing a handful of bubbles and ran it down her face, watching her scream and run away.

They ran around the house like kids, refilling their hands with soap every time they passed the sink, then quickly attacking the other person before running off again.

Other couples might look at them and say they acted childish, or they weren’t mature enough to have a family, and they had certainly gotten those comments before, but Feyre blocked them out. Rhys gave her happiness that she thought she had lost. He made her feel alive again after a toxic relationship made her feel as if she was dying. He showed her how strong she was, what she was capable of on her own, and she would never forget the impact he’d made on her life.

Rhys caught her while she was lost in thought, grabbing her around the waist and tumbling onto the couch. They were a mess, covered in soap, their hair soaked with it, but they laughed themselves hoarse at the sight.

Feyre leaned forward to kiss Rhysand, to kiss the man that changed her life, and he didn’t hesitate to return it. For a few minutes they were just a tangle of limbs on the couch, kissing until every other thing in the world seemed to disappear.

Eventually they both pulled away to look at each other, breathing heavily but smiling. Feyre realized that this moment, laying on the couch, covered in soap and bubbles, staring into each others eyes, was a moment she wanted to live in forever.

Her hands slowly slid to her still flat stomach, and she swallowed as Rhys’s eyes tracked the movement. Her face shifted into a neutral expression.

“Feyre, what’s wrong?” He asked, furrowing his brows.

She took his hand and placed it against where hers was, watching his eyes with anticipation, hoping he’d catch on.

His eyes slid to hers after a moment, so many emotions swimming inside them that she began to get nervous. Maybe he didn’t want kids, or he wasn’t ready. Maybe he was having second thoughts about all of it.

His hand moved from her stomach to her cheek, where he gently tucked some damp strands of hair behind her ear. She wasn’t sure he was breathing, but she wasn’t sure she was breathing either.

“I want to hear you say it,” was all he said, keeping his hand on her cheek.

She shuddered, but looked him in the eye as she gave him the news that would change his life.

“I’m pregnant.”

He loosed a shuddering breath and before she could say anything he wrapped his arms around her, burying his face in her hair as he cried. Feyre’s hands clutched him to her, and she began laughing, even as tears streamed down her face.

Family. They were going to have a family together.

As if he sensed her thoughts, Rhys pulled away and took her face in both of his hands, a smile on his own face that could light up the world.

“We’re going to be parents.”

She could only nod, her words lost as they once again held each other.

Hours later, when the sun had almost set, they were still sprawled across the couch, whispering about what their child would look like, if it would be a boy or girl, how amazing they would each be at taking care of it.

“I love you,” Rhys murmured into her hair, his eyes red from crying. “Thank you, for giving this to me.”

Feyre snuggled closer to him, hooking a leg around his waist and wrapping her arms around his neck. “I wouldn’t want to share this with anyone else.”

He chuckled and flicked her nose. “Well I would hope not.”

She gently shoved him, but he rested a hand on her stomach, and kissed her forehead.

“You know Mor is going to insist on choosing a name.” Rhys smirked, listening to her answering laugh.

“I know.”

They fell asleep like that on the couch, and both missed work the next day, but they only laughed about it, saying it was worth it.

Their family would always be worth it.

#acotar

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mei-totoro · 6 years

Text

love my bones (i)

✄ love my bones (i)

✄ pairing: anya (narrator) x wonho, anya x jungkook

✄ genre/warnings: angst, mature language, graphic content, futuristic, fantasy and slight romance

✄ summary: In the world Ulia, there live Holders and non-Holders. Holders are born with the ability to control one of the four elements in nature: water, earth, air, and fire. After years at the Academy of Holders, Anya has not yet unlocked her element. However, one day - after a series of unpredicted events - she unlocks her element and finds out the secret behind her family’s death.

✄ words: 2.6k

♔ prelude

“Honey, my baby, I love you much. Don’t forget who you are, the blood that runs through your veins and secret of your ancestors.” My mother took off her necklace and hung it around my neck. “Now be a good girl and get out of the house, I’ll get your brother and meet you in the front!” She screamed at me in the midst of the burning chaos. The heat of the fire threatened to burn my young tender skin, the smog crawled into my lungs, the dry heat created hot tears as I grabbed my coat and ran out of the burning house. Panting, I stopped in the front yard waiting for my parents to come out with my brother. From the loud cracking noises and the sounds of sirens in the distance, I heard a baby’s cry. It was a cry of pain, fear, and sadness.

“Mom?! Dad?!” I screamed helplessly at the burning house.

The sounds of cracking became louder, the flames engulfing the wooden posts of the house grew larger, the smoke spread more violently, the cries turned to shrieks. I covered my face in my hands to wipe away the tears. But the moment I looked up: the house collapsed.

I gasped, sitting upright while grabbing a fistful of my blanket. Another flask back. Sweat rolled from my forehead down my neck as I gulped audibly in the dead of the night. Flipping my sheets over, I rolled out of the bed. My feet grazing the icy cold floor sending chills down my spine. I snuck my way out of the dorm room and downstairs to the common room. Grabbing one of the blankets and pouring a glass of water, I curled up on the sofa and looked out the tall glass window. The moon shone on the sleeping woods, where even wolves slept soundly and the lake which acted as the moon’s mirror at night by reflecting its elegant and beautiful features.

I laughed to myself - the moon never fought with the sun for its power, because it was content with its beauty, the sun was never jealous of the moon’s beauty because it had power. Why couldn’t people live like the sun and the moon? They balance the world, bring peace, and are content with what they have. If people were not so cruel, maybe I’d be living happily with my parents and younger brother…

- ~ -

The sound of the sliding door woke me up. The infamous languid authoritarian footsteps of the Dean echoed in the empty room. He snickered, shaking his head, “Tsk. When will she learn that the common room is not her room. Right, the poor orphan was probably never educated properly. If she wasn’t a Holders, she would probably be rotting with the commoners.” He proceeded by walking up the stairs to wake the others up. ‘If that asshole wasn’t the Dean, I would have already thrown him over the wall to feed the wolves.’ I kicked the blanket off and hurried upstairs to change and prepare for class.

The girls in my dorm room were already up getting ready for the day. Slipping into suits before securing the buckles of the armor, they headed out of the room - some fixing their hair while others applied discrete colors to their lips. The hexagonal plates on their sternums lit in all colors: blue for Water, red for Fire, white for Air and green for Earth. Those were the four divisions at the Academy, and the only ones left in Ulia. Apparently centuries ago, there used to be Holders from hundreds of different division in the world. However, when people were poisoned by greed and corruption, the world fell into a huge bloody mess during the fight for survival. Ultimately, only the masters of the four divisions remained to rebuild the world and reintroduce peace. Of course, I don’t know how much of it is true, but that’s what every citizen is taught in Ulia - Holder or non-Holder.

I changed into my suit before braiding my hair. As usual, my plate didn’t light up. It never has, and I never know whether it will ever light up… Am I really a Holder? Did the Lynx of Ulia read my blood incorrectly? What if I really don’t have powers to unlock? Sighing, I tuck my mother’s necklace into my suit and head towards the field.

- ~ -

“Hut, two, three, four - hut, two, three, four… c’mon, run along! No one is going to wait for you to finish your fucking laps. Run along.” Mr. Duff, on of the academies oldest professors yelled at us. The old man was a sixty year old, bony, grumpy, divorced man with no children who had probably gone through tens of midlife crises; yet he never failed to muster the energy to whack a lagger with his “magic stick.” Anyone hit by this “magic stick” will be graced with weeks of beautiful purple and blue bruises. After yelling at us, he turned away to sit inside the cool shed in the shade.

“The old man is fucking insane.” I heard a voice behind me say, “I can’t wait till he retires.”

We continued to run around the field, greeting the rising sun every time we completed a lap. The calm of the morning was disturbed when an Earth Holder, Edgar, in front of me accidently bumped into a Fire Holder, Wilson, causing him to trip.

“Watch where you are going, clumsy troll.” Wilson yelled mockingly joined my laughter of other Fire Holders.

“How the fuck was it my fault? You were running into my space!” Edgar hollered back venomously back up by other Earth Holders.

“Ha, how dare you accuse me of such immaturity and clumsiness. Unlike your type, Fire Holders are known for their agility. Watch me light up your sorry ass.” The nimble Fire Holder sent a blast of fire towards the Earth Holder who blocked it by creating a wall of earth. Sparks of scorched dirt rolled around, causing the crowd of students to back away.

“Hell, now you are asking for this. Don’t blame me if you end up a chunk of dirt in your foil mouth!” Then, the fight broke out. Edgar stomped four boulders from the ground and sent them flying to Wilson, who whipped out a ring of fire - blasting the boulders to pieces. Some students fled far away to avoid the chunks of soil and sparks of flames dancing in the sky while others watched the fight - egging them on.

Shortly, several professor, the Dean and Mr. Duff rushed to the scene. An expression of anger and disappointment painted on their faces.

“Edgar and Wilson!” The Dean cried. “Stop this childish quarrel right now or I will sentence you both to 2 months of bathroom cleaning duty!” The field quickly died to complete silence. The two Holders lowered their head in shame. “Now if you two gentlemen are ready to behave, follow me to my office. We have a few things to discuss.” The Dean said before turning his heels, whipping around his long coat and walking away.

The teachers, dispersed the crowd and told everyone to head to their morning classes.

- ~ -

Out of the many useless things the Academy taught us, one of them was “Weather Reading.” It was considered one of the oldest forms of art in Ulia and its traditions had to be passed down. The administrators claimed that as Holders, we were a part of nature and that also included being able to understand the environment around us and weather changes. On top of the utter uselessness of the class, it was also one of the hardest classes at the Academy. The different shapes of the clouds, the speed of the wind, the humidity, the shape of the moon and the intensity of the sun were all the little miniscule details one had to learn about to pass the class. Despite its difficulty, I chose the class because it is one of the only classes that allows Holders to leave the academy and enter the depths of the woods.

“Anya!” One of my close friends Thatiana called, “Do you know what the humidity of the soil is?” I knelt down to dig up a handful of the soil, feeling it in my hand before it fell apart through the cracks of my fingers to the ground.

“Hmm I think it is around 70 to 80% humidity, the soil must be near a body of water since it is impossible to reach that humidity with the recent dry weather.” I concluded as I let Thatiana record the numbers on the tablet. “Hey,” I stopped and turned to her, “you are a Water Holder - shouldn’t you be the one to decide that? Why do you make the non-Holder do it?” I stated lightheartedly.

“Hey! I may be a Water Holder but I’m no fan of digging my hands into dirty soil - it will get my nails dirty. And also who says you are a non-Holder! You are… but maybe your element is just a little stubborn … like your personality!” She retorted while laughing.

“Ah!” I hit her shoulder. “How can I possibly be more stubborn than you!?” I said teasingly while running away from her.

“Hey, you two! Get back to work, you have to finished taking all the measurement by the end of the hour.” Professor Whum hollered our way. “I know reading the weather is fascinating but don’t get too distracted.” She winked at us before skipping towards another group. Professor Whum was one of the weirder teachers at the Academy. She wore a pair of round glasses that resembled goggles, always had dirt on her face or in her hair and wore mismatched boots everyday. She was a simple representation of a blatant mess.

“Yes Professor Whum,” I reassured her with an artificial smile.

“Don’t worry,” Thatiana snickered, “We don’t have too much fun looking at the clouds.”

I headed further into the woods until I felt a raindrop on my nose. I looked up at the forming clouds, but my vision was limited due to tangled branches of the dense forest.

“Thatiana, wait here. I’ll climb a little higher to get a better view of the sky.” I said before hiking up the steep hill to the rocks. A large dark gray mass of clouds precipitated ominously towards our direction, expanding widely and rapidly.

A strike of thunder roared loudly from afar. The light drops of rain grew in number. A sense of fear and uncertainty washed over me. Screams erupted from below, as my classmates gathered their materials and fled back towards the school. Professor Whum hurried everyone to return to the Academy and back into its gates. I turned back to the sky. ‘Why is there suddenly a thunderstorm? We had been closely watching the weather for the past few weeks and Ulia’s Weather Reading masters have never been wrong - today was supposed to be a sunny day. What in the world is going on?’ Another strike of thunder interrupted my train of thoughts as I flinched.

“Anya! Anya! Where are you? We have to go back now!” Thaliana voice laced with terror rang from below. Rain began to pour more violently, soaking my hair completely. Beyond the overwhelming fear that sent sparkles coursing through my limbs, there was something about the way the rolling opaque gray clouds picked up speed, engulfing more and more of the forest in darkness. As if darkness was suffocating the last rays of light, I reached my hand into the light, watching the cloud’s shadow roll over my hand. I turned around to watch the darkness approach the gates of the Academy as small figures rushed through shielding their heads from the rain.

A source of warmth blossomed in my gut. A type of energy that was unexplainably nostalgic yet foreign - almost like the feeling of home and belonging. I raised my hand to cup a few drops of rain - ‘Was is the rain?’ The warmth grew and filled the whole expanse of my chest. I exhaled the breath I held for too long - a zap. I fixed my attention to my fingers. Zap. Crack. A dedicated thread of electricity formed between my thumb and index. The warmth traveled down my arms and spread through my hands. More sparks. Breathing deeply again, a tingling feeling flourished from my palm - creating threads of electricity between my fingers and across my palm. At every breath and contraction of my diaphragm, the energy multiplied.

From a distance, I sensed a growing bundle of energy in core of the clouds. In a split second, strike of thunder bolted down towards me - striking me. As if the clock had slowed down, I watched the lively shifting bolt approach and lung towards me. My palms caught the wild and heavy impact of the thunder as I watched the electricity spiral and encircle my arms and body. The heat became stronger and stronger. My arms and legs were covered in fluorescent white threads. The zaps multiplied by the second, getting louder and louder. I concentrated on my breath and brought my fists together. The electricity began to weave a sort of dome over my head. My body suddenly felt light, as if my body had forgotten the whole notion of gravity. The soles of my feet left the rock. The web of electricity wrapped further down to my hip and legs. The sphere wrapped neatly underneath my feet shutting me in.

I had created a force field of electricity around my body - protecting my body from the rain and the wind.

Sparks of electricity dance around my body as I floated higher and higher off the ground. For the first time, I felt free and invincible. While I watched my classmates through blazes of fire across the training room and soak each with whole tubs of water - I stood by the side patiently waiting for the day I would be able to unlock my element. Happiness coursed joyfully through my body. I was a Holder! I really was! I don’t know what kind but if I can control something - I am a Holder. I played in the force field, enjoying the new lightness of my body. Touching the bubble of electricity sent literal sparks through my arm. I closed my eyes and relished the warmth of the electricity prickling and tickling my skin.

As I floated higher and higher into the sky, I failed to realize another strike of thunder building up. When I saw a crack of light form in the distance darkness: I panicked. I raised my arms to cover my head but the thunder hit the force field, cracking it open instantly. The power of the bolt flung me violently across the woods. As if gravity finally woke up, my body turned heavy and was pulled downwards. Fuck. I flailed my arms in order to slow down my fall but all efforts were in vain. I fell on the thick branches of a big tree because falling flat on the hard ground.

“Anya! She is over here!” Thatiana screamed from a distance. As I laid completely limp and lifeless on the dirt, ropes of electricity spiraled around my body zapping periodically. After several violent zaps, my vision turned black.

a/n: idk if anyone will actually read this BUT im just putting this out here ha. since I got nothing to do in my spare time, I think im going to write again hehe c: idk when chapter 1 will be out but look forward to it :3 Jungkook and wonho will come in next chapter sorry haha

#love my bones #mywriting #bts scenarios #monstax scenarios

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lady-divine-writes · 7 years

Text

Klaine one-shot - “Burt Hummel to the Rescue” (Rated G)

Blaine and Tracy come home, excited to get started carving pumpkins for Halloween … until they see the pumpkins Kurt bought. (1522 words)

Notes: This is a re-write. I felt we needed some Halloween fluff, so here ya go :)

Read on AO3.

“Pump-kins! Pump-kins! Pump-kins!” Blaine chants along with his daughter, Tracy, as they leap from Blaine’s BMW and head for their house.

“What do we want?” Blaine yells, racing to the door first and unlocking it before Tracy can run headlong into it.

“Pumpkins!” Tracy yells.

“When do we want them?” Blaine flings the door open wide.

“Now!” Tracy cheers, leaping in the air with a hand raised to give her father a high five.

“So, are you guys ready to carve some pumpkins?” Kurt calls to his husband and daughter, who he can hear racing his way.

“Yeah!” they cheer. Blaine tickles Tracy to make her go faster, looking just as excited as his wiggling little girl as they both stampede into the kitchen. But they skid to a stop in the doorway, nearly falling over themselves when they see what’s waiting for them - four smaller-than-average pumpkins perched on the kitchen island, each the exact same size, the exact same shape, obviously faux. Blaine raises a shaking finger and points at Kurt’s blasphemous offering.

“What … are those?”

“These” - Kurt picks one up and carries it over to his husband and daughter, who simultaneously shrink away - “are craft pumpkins.”

“What … what does that mean, exactly?” Blaine asks. “Craft pumpkins? What kind of terrible witchcraft is that?”

Kurt laughs at his husband’s obvious drama for their daughter’s behalf, so he indulges for a moment in chasing Blaine and Tracy around the kitchen, brandishing one of the pumpkins before returning it to the counter. “It means … no stringy pumpkin guts staining Tracy’s clothes. No gunge under our fingernails for weeks. No finding cold pumpkin under our butts when we sit on the breakfast stools, even though I’ve gone over this place about three dozen times with Formula 409. No muss, no fuss, and most importantly - no mess.” Kurt glances at the clock on the wall. “Which is perfect since my dad and Carole are going to be here any minute.”

Blaine looks at Tracy, who gazes up at him in anguish.

“But, what about toasting pumpkin seeds?” Tracy asks miserably.

“I bought a pound of pumpkin seeds from the farmers market on the way home,” Kurt says. “So we’re still toasting seeds.”

“And … what about your pies?” Blaine sounds even more miserable than Tracy. “Your famous Kurt Ander-Hummel Pumpkin Pies?”

“I picked up some pie pumpkins at the market, too. No worries. Do you think my dad and Carole would even walk through the front door if I didn’t have pumpkin pie in the house?”

“Okay,” Blaine says, “well, what about that yummy pumpkin smell?”

“Yeah,” Tracy agrees. “What about the smell?”

“I already thought of that …” Kurt walks over to one of the cupboards and takes out a brand new Glade Holiday Scents candle. While Tracy and Blaine watch in horror, Kurt tears off the cardboard and lights the wick. He walks with it around the room, spreading the aroma of “pumpkin” in the air. He then places the candle carefully on the kitchen table, waving at it lightly so the scent travels into the living room. “Voila! Pumpkin smell!”

“I don’t … I don’t believe this!” Tracy buries her head into the back of her father’s thigh. “It’s like a bad dream!”

“Please tell me you’re kidding!” Blaine contorts to put a protective arm around his distraught daughter’s shoulders. “Please tell me that there are a row of decently-sized, real pumpkins in the back yard, and that this is just a sick joke!”

“What?” Kurt says, hurt when he realizes his husband and daughter might not be joking after all. “No, Blaine. This is … this is it. These are our pumpkins for this year. I thought that if anyone would be on board with this, it would be you, Mr. Arts and Crafts.”

“How? Halloween is one of my all-time favorite holidays! And pumpkins – they’re the heart and soul of it! How could you think that I would ever be okay taking that heart and soul and replacing it with … with … whatever those are made of?”

Kurt crosses his arms over his chest and huffs at his husband’s childish behavior. Tracy pretty much imitates everything Blaine does. He doesn’t need her acting like a man who can’t act his age. “Blaine. Tracy, honey. Don’t you guys think you’re overreacting just a little?”

“No!” Blaine and Tracy say together.

“Come on. It won’t be that bad.”

“No.” Blaine shakes his head, pointing at the imposter pumpkins on the island. “This … this goes beyond bad. This is awful!”

“Yeah,” Tracy’s muffled voice concurs. “Awful!”

“I mean, what’s going to be next, Kurt? Soy candy canes on the tree at Christmas? Styrofoam eggs at Easter? Near beer on St. Paddy’s Day?”

“Blaine …” Kurt opens his mouth right as the doorbell rings. He looks over at the clock, then back at his pouty husband, and sighs. That has to be his dad and Carole. They’re early. He knew they would be. They always are. Probably left Lima three hours ahead of schedule just to make it to their house Upstate before the traffic started. He takes a step toward the living room, but Blaine puts a hand up to block him.

“No,” he says. “Tracy and I will answer the door. You stay here with your … your … craft pumpkins and your fake pumpkin smell candle, and you think about what you’ve done.” Blaine pats Tracy comfortingly on the head. “Come along, Tracy. Your Papa has some important thinking to do.”

“Oh, give me a break,” Kurt says as Blaine limps off through the living room to the front door with Tracy attached to one leg. “This coming from a man who re-made all of his friends as puppets in high school! You want to talk about a man who needs to do some important thinking? You should re-connect with teenage Blaine, right some issues from your past.”

Blaine doesn’t respond. He thrusts his nose in the air, squares his shoulder, and continues limping on his way.

Kurt leans against the frame and watches Blaine open the front door, eager to hear just how his husband intends to complain to his father-in-law about the horrible pumpkins he bought and how he ruined Halloween. If Kurt knows his father, all Burt’s going to care about is if there’s going to be pie and when.

The door swings open. A second later, Tracy bolts out, whooping and hollering.

“Oh, thank you, Grandpa! Grandma! Thank you, thank you, thank you!”

“Oh, jeez,” Kurt mutters. “What the heck did my dad bring over now?”

Burt Hummel is notorious for spoiling his granddaughter left and right without checking with Kurt first, which explains the two-level, fully authentic Victorian-style playhouse in their backyard. His father built it piece by piece at his own house and delivered it one weekend, driving it nine hours in the back of a rented U-Haul when Kurt was away for business since he knew Kurt would say it was too much. A six-year-old girl didn’t need her own house with functional motion sensor lights that run off of solar panels, circulating water sink, and her own stocked refrigerator.

Though Kurt has to admit, it is pretty awesome. Six-year-old Kurt would have been pea green with envy. As it is, thirty-five-year-old Kurt sometimes gazes at it from the kitchen window and daydreams about traveling back in time and living in there.

Kurt leaves the kitchen and heads for the front door, curious to know what all the celebrating is about.

He sees them in the yard even before he gets there – six of the biggest, misshapen, off-color, knobby and grotesque gourds Kurt has ever laid his eyes on. And there, in the middle of them, are his father and Carole, armed with neon-green pumpkin cutters, already sawing out the tops to two of the largest, one of them so big that when he’s done yanking out the cap, Burt picks Tracy up and plops her inside before Kurt can even think to stop him.

“What … the heck … are those?” Kurt asks, staring in disgust at the orange monstrosities blighting his freshly raked lawn.

“Those, my love,” Blaine says, as giddy as Tracy, “are pumpkins! Actual real live pumpkins!”

“Big Macs to be exact,” Burt adds, waving to his sons from the yard. “Hey, kiddo. Carole told me about your craft pumpkin idea, so I thought I’d lend you a hand.”

A guilty Carole quickly adverts her gaze from Kurt’s shocked face, her cheeks turning a deep cherry red.

“Hey, Blaine!” she calls. “Why don’t you come help me with this one down here on the end? You know, the one out of throwing distance of the front door?”

“Sure thing!” Blaine giggles, oblivious to the daggers Kurt’s throwing with his signature steely gaze.

“So … he finds out about my craft pumpkins,” Kurt says, “and brings over those disgusting things?”

“Yup!” Blaine chirps, clapping Kurt on the shoulder. “And that is why Burt Hummel is officially the greatest father-in-law that ever lived!”

#klaine fanfiction #klaine fic #klaine #frankie writes

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chicagoindiecritics · 5 years

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New from Every Movie Has a Lesson by Don Shanahan: VINTAGE REVIEW: Simply Irresistable

(Image: youtube.com)

THIS RETROSPECTIVE REVIEW AND ANALYSIS WAS ORIGINALLY PUBLISHED ON SEPTEMBER 7, 2019 FOR 25YL AS PART OF THEIR “GUILT-FREE PLEASURES” SERIES.

SIMPLY IRRESISTIBLE— 3 STARS

Basic as the word may be, the Merriam-Webster Dictionary definition for the adjective “cute” goes in three very distinct directions. The second variation thereof: “attractive or pretty, especially in a childish, youthful, or delicate way” is the one used most often. The first meaning veers smarter defining “cute” as “clever or shrewd, often in an underhanded manner” and “impertinent, smart-alecky.” Lastly, “cute” can also describe something “obviously straining for effect.” As coincidence would have it for this 25YL article on “Guiltfree Pleasures”, the sentence example on that third definition reads “The movie’s too cute to be taken seriously.”

Folks, we have a triple winner. The 1999 Valentine’s Day romantic comedy and Sarah Michelle Gellar vehicle Simply Irresistible typifies each of those three definitions of “cute.” The attractiveness is easy to spot and the creative smarts bubble with the glamour. Most especially, though, the movie is entirely the third one supported by the cinematic citation.

With its willowy whiff of courtship and cuisine, this movie is indeed too cute to be taken seriously. The proper response as a viewer for Simply Irresistible then is simple. Don’t take it seriously. Enjoy all the flights of fancy and let yourself lap up all the cuteness possible.

Originally titled Vanilla Fog, the movie begins with a classic Hollywood meet cute complete with soon-to-be-recurring klutziness. Gellar’s fashionably mismatched and plucky restaurant owner Amanda Shelton catches the ankle and the eye of Sean Patrick Flannery’s clean-cut and blue-suited exec Tom Bartlett at a sunny outdoor food market, when an ornery peekytoe crab she came into possession of tries to crawl up his dapper and unsuspecting dress pants. From the get-go, this silent little crustacean and the guardian angel of Gene O’Reilly (Tony Award-winning playwright Christopher Durang) stand as the proxy puppeteers from the mystic beyond sent to improve Amanda’s failing business, unraveling confidence, and romantic luck.

Thanks to this twinkling and clawed dash of magic, Amanda and Tom soon find their personal and professional trajectories intertwined. Amanda is an exceedingly sweet woman who recently lost her mother and culinary mentor. She is quick to give a compliment and earns them just the same. A little corps of loyal old customers, her Aunt Stella (Betty Buckley of Split), and her bestie sous chef Nolan (poor Larry Gilliard, Jr., checking off the ’90s trend of the necessary sidekick of token diversity for the second time in a year after The Waterboy) help her mother’s Southern Cross restaurant stay open despite financial woes and a chef’s version of writer’s block.

Tom is a paper airplane connoisseur and a data-minded man of pragmatism and neurotic picadillo’s. He is handcuffed to a vain girlfriend (Amanda Peet before her The Whole Nine Yards breakout) and charged with opening a $4 million posh restaurant inside the high-end Henry Bendel designer department store for Bendel heir Jonathan Bendel (veteran character actor Dylan Baker). His right-hand voice of reason and persistent pusher is his assistant Lois (Patricia Clarkson, the best talent of the ensemble), who has fawning eyes for Jonathan.

The kooky kick of edible enchantment is that Amanda’s feelings are mixing in and coming out of her renewed cooking. Needless to say, with one ecstatic bite, Tom, and anyone else with a triggered taste, is hooked. The charisma of the actors take over to sell this sorcery.

Powder impresser and hot The Adventures of Young Indiana Jones star Sean Patrick Flannery—months before The Boondock Saints would turn him into an even bigger cult icon—counts as a nice casting get, but this entire project was built for the enormous Buffy the Vampire Slayer popularity of Sarah Michelle Gellar at the peak of her powers. Simply Irresistible, She’s All That, and Cruel Intentions all hit theaters in the winter of 1999, and this one was the flop of the trio by a large margin. It’s a shame, because Simply Irresistible might be the most re-watchable.

Gellar and Flannery, draped nicely by the threads of costume designer Janie Bryant (It, Deadwood, and Mad Men), look gorgeous together. The aimed eye contact and targeted gazes alone, followed often by snickers and smirks between the two, disarm at every come-hither turn. Just the committed presence of the central couple overcomes some awful “if the broom fits, ride it” dialogue from Judith Roberts (her only feature credit). Loopy feelings from food make for a loopy movie too that sputters to a sweeping finish.

The raunch-less love scenes of cooking, kissing, and dancing can initially seem to come from a different movie than a ’90s-era romantic comedy in the same year as American Pie. But then, with the dedication for the glossy showmanship never shrinking, you realize you’re exactly in a throwback. With a tweak of two of period adjustment and pacing, Simply Irresistible would fit either in the Pillow Talk genre of farces or the It Happened One Night-level screwball comedies. This is a successful tone recognized by the late Roger Ebert in his overwhelmingly positive review of the film. His take comprises a hefty minority chunk of the movie’s unsightly 13% Rotten Tomatoes rating and 27 Metacritic score.

It takes a special kind of acting to make every bite on-camera look orgasmic while still carrying the throwaway sexual humor and scripted lines. One wonders how many takes and versions director Mark Tarlov (the husband of Roberts working his only feature directing credit after a career as a producer) and his editor Paul Karasick sifted through for the cuts they settled on. The emotiveness while chewing, especially during the climactic big dinner backed prominently by Gil Goldstein’s nice and thick score, is over-the-top and adorable. Eat your heart out, Brad Pitt.

As Gellar’s character seductively states, “dessert is the whole point of the meal.” Simply Irresistible is a sweet tooth’s dream, both in the kitchen and on the home-viewing couch. By golly, if you do not crave an obsessive urge and want to lick the DVD with the imagined taste and aroma of the caramel eclairs and other plates you see on screen, your parietal lobe interpreting those functions is broken. Go ahead and accept all of the synonyms for “delicious” used by Amanda in one aside to describe the treats on screen, including “savory,” “tasty,” “scrumptious,” “delectable,” “succulent,” and “mouthwatering.” Don’t worry, heavily researched copycat recipes exist for your future date night.

LOGO DESIGNED BY MEENTS ILLUSTRATED (#826)

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believe-that-you-can-my-friend · 7 years

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Bughead Prompt

Anonymous asked: Can you do one involving Archie getting jealous of the Bughead relationship and Jug being scared Betty will leave him for Archie of course Bughead will pull through! Love your writing btw!

dorky-unicorns asked: Can I request a fic where Jughead and Betty are dating and they have to deal with a jealous Archie like he tells them they can't be together cause Betty is still in love with him. But Betty is having none of Archies shit and she explains that she loves Jughead and she thinks she's been in love with him for a very long time but she just got her feelings muddled. And then obviously lots of Fluff from an overly affectionate Jughead please :))

I hope you both like this! Warning: It’s sappy. :P

Archie had thought that the biggest heartbreak he was going to face at least for his two more years of adolescence to come was one and only, Ms. Grundy leaving for good and leaving him behind.

He was wrong.

The revelation came a usual Friday night at Pop’s when Betty and Jughead not only sat next to each other at a booth across him and the rest of the gang, sharing a chocolate milkshake – Jughead’s favorite – along with their respective orders, but also held hands over the table, announcing with stupid, shit-eating matching grins that they were indeed a couple. Veronica was ecstatic, Kevin was supportive and Archie…well, Archie was confused.

Betty was always his best friend. Their friendship weighted what seemed like ages and the two of them went way back, as Jughead himself had pointed a handful of times. Betty and Archie were always a pair, an inseparable duo; the stability to his spontaneously, the mellow aura to his teenage angst. It was hard, let alone impossible, for the redheaded boy to think of her as the half of another pair. Betty was supposed to compliment his side, no one else’s.

So that Monday morning Archie stepped foot in Riverdale High drowned in childish grumpiness, like when he was seven and his dad had refused to buy him the newest figures for his Playmobil collection, brooding about it for a whole amount of two days just out of spite. He hoped that something had changed over the weekend, the weekend that he had deliberately avoided getting in touch with any of his two friends, and all of this sorcery was over just as quickly as it started.

But he was proven wrong yet again, once the bell rang and he headed to the first class of the day, Chemistry, the seat next to Jughead not being empty waiting for him as always but occupied with none other than the bubbly blonde who was talking miles next to Jughead’s smiley – smiley – face. Archie stopped dead in his tracks, taken aback by the sudden change of reality and genuinely not knowing what to do when none of them seemed to even notice his presence, before finally taking a seat next to Moose, a desk behind Kevin and Veronica.

“Who knew a day will come that I would look at Jughead and actually think he is cute.” Kevin mused, he and Veronica, along with half the class to be honest, watching without shame the newly formed couple interact across them. Archie flinched in annoyance.

“Well, I can definitely get used to this sight.” The brunette next to him admitted, she and Kevin titling their heads in unison to keep having their eyes on the couple as one of their classmates passed by and momentarily blocked their view. “I’m getting a very nice Holly – Paul vibe from them.” Veronica hummed in delight, referring to her favorite love story of Breakfast at Tiffany’s.

“Or Jack and Rose.” Kevin added, Archie getting fed up behind them and opening his text book, pretending to go over some of his notes.

“But not with that ending.” Ronnie objected, earning a ‘definitely not’ from the boy next to her, their eyes still glued on the couple in a prying manner.

“You’ll end up with squint from all that staring.” The bitter ginger murmured with his head buried in his book, faking indifference but failing miserably.

“Like I don’t see you trying to look over your shoulder, Archiekins.” Veronica sent him an accusing glare for only a moment before bringing her eyes back to the couple of the hour.

“Please, I don’t even care.” Archie shrugged in what he thought was convincing enough to back up his statement.

“Well, sucks for you, cos they are adorable!” Kevin colored the adjective with a sickening to the redhead’s ears dreamy tone, the sulking boy hesitantly looking over his shoulder again, catching a glimpse of Jughead writing something on Betty’s notebook and the girl offering him her scarlet blush along with a lovely look under her full, doe eyes before leaving a butterfly kiss on his cheekbone. Archie was minutes away from standing up and objecting loudly because that was his look, the look Betty always had in store for him, and it wasn’t fair for anyone, let alone Jughead, to steal it from him.

Kevin’s still sickening tone of voice disrupted his thoughts and held him down last minute, the Sherriff’s son squealing along with Veronica at the couple’s cuteness, but thankfully the chemistry teacher entered the room and all interactions were caught short. The Andrews boy remained a grumpy cat all first period, clicking and unclicking his pen nervously during the whole hour of class, aggravating even the apathetic up until now Moose next to him, who angrily took the pen from his hands and threw it to the ground, before delivering a rather hard punch to his teammate’s shoulder to shut him the hell up.

And when the lesson thankfully ended, Archie was the first one to jump from his seat and gather his things in a hurry, passing in front of the happy couple that came to join their friends and only offering a look to Betty, a hard, somehow accusatory one, before storming out of class, Jughead seeming invisible to him.

“What’s up with him?” Betty questioned with a clueless frown, the raved haired boy next to her raising an eyebrow at the speeding figure of their best friend.

“I guess somebody needs to get laid.” Veronica answered deadpanned, earning a vigorous agreeing nod from Kevin and an eye roll from the couple.

Archie was thanking the gods above that his schedule that day didn’t evolve more joined classes with the duo that seemed to now irk him to a point of anger and annoyance. He even succeeded in pushing them out of his mind completely and actually enjoy his practice with Josie and the Pussycats but that nauseous feeling appeared in his stomach once again at lunch, when armed with his food tray, the redhead jogged down the stairs of Riverdale High back yard in search of his friends. They weren’t hard to spot, choosing their usual table under one of the trees, and any other day Archie would never hesitate to stroll up to them and take a seat. Today though the sight made him stop and stare.

Betty and Jughead were not only sitting next to each other again but they were tangled up with each other too, like time and place were just an illusion to them that didn’t matter. His blonde so-called best friend was sitting with one leg over the other on the metallic bench, having her body turned to face him and only him, and his other so-called friend was straddling the bench so for Betty to sit between his legs and lie her back on the inside of his leg that was bended by the knee with his foot resting on the unoccupied space behind her. They were talking again about something – they always seemed to be talking, didn’t they ever run out of topics? – and being all touchy with each other, Betty occasionally caressing his arm or the side of his neck and Jughead having an arm draped affectionately over her lap, those grins never leaving their glowing faces. The PDA wasn’t heavy; Archie was just extremely exaggerating everything in his mind.

He felt uneasy and a pinch of jealousy blurring his vision. There wasn’t even two months ago that Betty had heartbreakingly confessed her attraction to him and just like that she had jumped to the first boy she found available? Archie couldn’t take it. Betty was supposed to be in love with him. Clearly, he thought, she was being confused.

“Hey there, Troy Bolton, what turned you into a statue?” Veronica’s characteristic voice brought him out of his reverie, coming to stand next to him with a similar tray of food.

“I’m just letting the happy couple be.” Archie replied with sarcasm that he, himself, didn’t even know he possessed.

“Uh, Kevin is there too.” Veronica knitted her eyebrows in confusion, the ginger doing the same because Kevin was indeed there all this time, sitting across them and busing himself with his sandwich and phone but for some odd reason Archie’s eyes hadn’t notice him up until the girl to his left pointed it out. “Plus, I don’t get your awkwardness around them. They are still B and Jug, why are you acting that way?” she turned to examine him, a tad annoyed at his behavior.

“Am I the only one skeptical about this whole thing?” Archie offered in annoyance too.

“Yes!” she exclaimed in exasperation. “I don’t know what kind of abandonment syndrome grew on you since last Friday but you better fix it cos this Archie Andrews is really starting to piss me off.” The suburban girl warned him with a stern look of her chocolate eyes and turned to walk away with confidence, joining her three friends that greeted her with cheerful heys.

Archie took a breath and did the same, forcing a smile on his lips and sitting next to Betty, even though Veronica was giving him the eye from across the table.

“So what are we talking about?” he asked, solemn focus on Betty and charming smile intact.

“Betty was about to go over the articles for the next issue of the paper.” Kevin spoke without taking his eyes off his phone, his sexting session with Joaquin way too interesting than anything going on around the table.

“Really? Go on. Anything interesting this week?” the redhead asked suddenly way too intrigued by journalism, Jughead dropping his other leg to rest to the ground too and raising an eyebrow at how weird Archie was behaving

The blonde huffed, a surprised chuckle leaving her pink lips. “You never even read the Blue & Gold.” Betty pointed out.

“That’s not true! I’ve read all about Chuck and that infamous book.” He replied cleverly, smiling again to her.

“Yes, because it was the very first issue and it had to do with your teammates, Archie!” Betty laughed; she knew her friend wasn’t interested in anything printed. “And I was going to go over the articles but that was before you guys came; Juggie and I will do that later.” she went on and smiled to her boyfriend next to her, the boy offering her a teasing salute.

“Yeah, I forgot there’s you and Juggie now.” Archie murmured, sifting uneasily on his seat and attracted weird glares from all the people around him, even Kevin.

Veronica cleared her throat in warning.

“Arch, is there something wrong?” Betty hesitated but asked, sharing a look with Veronica and then Jughead, who just shrugged not knowing either.

“Oh I don’t know you tell me.” He offered back with venom, snapping his head to face her and the girl gasped, leaning a tad backward towards Jughead in surprise.

“Dude, if you’re pissed off or something–” Jughead interfered in a smooth tone, closing his arm a tad more protectively around Betty, but with a look that could turn defensive in a second but his friend cut him off.

“Leave it, Jug.” Archie stoop up abruptly and gathered his things. “Enjoy your lunch.” And with that he was gone, leaving the four teens in a state of shock.

This went on for the rest of the week, Archie avoiding everyone and getting frustrated beyond his mind whenever the happy couple crossed paths with him. He hated seeing them speaking all hush-hush in the school corridor, doing homework in the students’ lounge together, Jughead being at almost all cheerleading/baseball practices sitting further up the bleachers and writing his novel, once in a while dropping his eyes at her and making her offer him her dashing smile, sitting at Pop’s with a milkshake and a burger each laughing uncontrollably at something Jughead was saying, walking hand in hand to Betty’s house for him to drop her off, Betty coming over to Archie’s house to help him settle in the newly rebuild former garage, going to movie dates, texting each other romantic and even some saucy things – Archie was still sitting behind Betty in geometry class so he had a front row seat when her phone vibrated and a text from ‘Juggie <3’ lightened up the screen, him letting her know how good her legs looked with the skirt she had chosen to wear that day. Archie’s knuckles had turned white over his pen and he had even asked to be excused to the bathroom.

The final straw came on Saturday night though, when Fred Andrews arrived home finding a brooding Archie – his signature expression those days – sprawled on the couch and mindlessly changing the channels on TV.

“Do Jug and Betty have a thing or something?” his dad asked with a foxy smile, after their usual chit chat about their day, filling plates with some take out from Pop’s.

Archie internally groaned, dragging his feet further inside the kitchen. “I guess you can call it that. Who did you hear from?” he popped some fries in his mouth, uninterested.

“I didn’t.” the man shook his head, bringing over two glasses of water. “I was unlocking the door when Betty snuck in Jug’s pad with an oversized bag from Pop’s.” he informed him shaking his head in amusement, before taking a sip from his water. “I’ve seen her sneak in a handful of other nights too.”

“Really?!” Archie widened his eyes, feeling his anger starting to boil. Betty and Jughead doing whatever they were doing meters away from him? It was impossible to wrap his mind around the idea. “No, it can’t be!” he refused to even think about it.

“Oh, you can stop covering up for them.” Fred laughed. “I’m not gonna say anything if that’s what you two boys are afraid. I’m only concerted about poor Jug and Alice Cooper. Otherwise, I find them quite the fit for each other.” He smiled, taking a bite of his steak.

Archie just huffed, placing his fork with sound on his plate. “Whatever, dad.” The teen just threw annoyed and then kept silent for the rest of their dinner, nervously playing around with his food and feeling more and more frustrated as the hour went by and he wasn’t seeing any sign of Betty leaving the garage any time soon.

It was somewhere around ten when he had enough and he decided that now was the time, he didn’t care if he would interrupt something, things were going to come clean between them right here and right now. Passing by his dad dazing on by the TV in the living room, Archie stormed outside and with quick, angry steps approached the garage at the side of the house. A dim light could be seen from the small window and faded noises could be heard as the redhead came to a stop at the entrance, mentally preparing himself for what he was about to witness. Taking a deep breath and pushing the door lightly, not having yet a change to put a proper lock meaning it was easily accessible to anyone, Archie spied inside from the small crack, letting a sigh of relief upon seeing the couple not in any compromising position that would definitely make him see blood but lounging at the small black couch in front of Jughead’s bed engrossed in what seemed like to be a movie. Jughead was sitting comfortably with his arm draped behind her on the couch and his head resting back and titled to the side, barely touching the top of hers, and Betty was glued next to him with her slender legs laid on her boyfriend’s lap, a thin beige blanket messily thrown over them. Archie could see one of Jughead’s hands resting on her thigh in affection, occasionally rubbing up and down lightly while Betty kept playing absentmindedly with the buttons of his plaid shirt over his black t-shirt.

There was this tug of jealousy again on his chest, this time more severe than ever before. He could have been him in Jughead’s place, having Betty on his lap and having her sweet strawberry perfume invade his senses. At that moment he envied Jughead Jones with every piece of his heart. He stood like that for a couple of minutes contemplating his move. But once he saw him readjusting himself to wrap his arms tightly around her waist, whispering something in her ear that made her grin and blush, blush, before him starting leaving some kisses on her neck that had her eyes closing in pleasure, Archie couldn’t hold himself back anymore. He stormed inside the small room, making both teens flush red and jump up immediately, getting untangled from each other.

“Archie? What are you doing here?” Jughead took it upon himself to speak up, sitting more straight on the couch, Betty’s legs dropping from his lap to rest on one of his thighs.

“I live here if you haven’t noticed.” Was the redhead’s mean comeback, causing the two teens across him to look at him surprised and speechless.

Betty broke the tense silence. “We’re watching a movie, if you wanna join.” She said as cheerfully as she could manage but her smile faded upon seeing her friend’s reaction.

“No, Betty, I’m not here to hang out. I’m here to tell you that this has to stop!” he demanded, voice going an octave higher.

“And what are you exactly, Archie, that have the right to tell us what we can and can’t do?” Jughead replied in a stern voice too, fed up with Archie’s behavior all these days, and Betty could feel him getting more and more defensive by the minute, placing a palm on his chest to signalize him to take it easy.

“The person that gave you a home, in case you forgot.” The other boy threw to his face, Jughead shaking his head and letting a sad chuckle of disbelief.

Betty just gasped with no sound, not quite recognizing the boy she called her longtime best friend.

“Apologize to him.” The blonde demanded softly, both boys turning their attention to her.

“I have to apologize?” Archie spat, poking his pointer to his chest.

“Yes, you do!” she stood up, determined. “You walk around all week now being weird and offensive and now this?” she was fed up too even though she kept brushing it off all week in front of Jughead in fear of the two boys comforting each other.

“Stay out of this, Betty.” Archie warned her with a look and she huffed, throwing her arms in the air in exasperation and turning her back at him.

Jughead’s knee started to bounce, getting really difficult to control his anger at this point but he was trying for her sake. “What is your problem, Archie? For real now.” he narrowed his eyes up at him.

“You, Jughead, that’s my problem!” he yelled, causing Betty to snap back around to face him with anger. “Can you even respect anything in your life? You know, my dad sleeps a few meters away but you still don’t even care, do you? I guess Reggie was right; all this writing crap does help you get laid.” The redhead spit with venom, the atmosphere changing in an instant in the small room.

Jughead scoffed, his hands trembling from anger. “I never thought you’d be that much of an asshole.” And with that he stormed to his feet, eyes shining from anger and threw himself forward to attack him, Archie doing the same.

Betty was quick, stepping in front of her boyfriend. “You! Out!” she commanded him sternly.

Jughead looked down at her, still blinded from rage. “He gets to speak like that about you and I’m the one you kick out?!” he semi yelled because really he didn’t care even for a bit what Archie or any other asshole thought about him. He only cared for Betty and the fact that his so-called friend was implying that she was an easy fuck was making his mind explode from rage.

“I swear to God, Jughead, if you don’t walk away right now, I’m dragging you out myself.” Betty held her ground, eyes determined upon his stormy ones and he saw him look down with a pained frown before giving her some sad vigorous nods and snatching his jacket, passing by Archie who gave him a pleased, I-just-won grin before Jughead got lost into the night.

There were some moments of silence with the two of them just trying to calm down.

“Betty, I…” Archie started but once she raised her eyes, her expression made him stop.

“You what, Archie?” she spoke, her voice colored with disappointment. “Do you even know what you are doing right now?”

He shook his head, licking his lips. “Listen, I’ve been thinking lately. Ever since you and… him said you were a couple, I finally understood Betty; I came to my senses for real this time.”

“And what did you understand exactly?” she flinched upset, closing her arms over her chest.

“That you are the one for me.” Archie admitted and let a breathing chuckle.

“Right…” Betty nodded, not even feeling a single thing regarding that statement. Just pure disappointment for the guy in front of her that stooped so low.

The boy eyed her, not quite believing her reaction. “I know you feel bad right now, you don’t know how to say this to Jughead, but he will understand, he always knew, you just got confused—” he went on and on, making plans and taking things for granted like he always did.

“Confused?” Betty cut him off. “No, Archie, I’m not at all confused right now. I might have been in the past but all is crystal clear now.” she scoffed, not quite believing how oblivious she was some months ago.

“Betty…” he chuckled in disbelief. “You said you liked me not long ago. And I’m here telling you that I like you back. I want us to try.” He continued desperately.

“That’s where you got it all wrong; where I got it all wrong.” Betty focused her eyes on his. “I never liked you, Archie.” She admitted with a shrug and saw the boy gasp in front of her. “Jughead was always the one I wanted.” She smiled at that.

“It-It can’t be.” Archie refused, chuckling again uneasily. “Betty, we were right there outside your house when you demanded an answer from me, an answer I couldn’t give you then, but I can now… please, give us a change, I know you’re still in love with me…” he said in a lower voice, coming closer to her and placing his hands on her arms.

“No.” Betty squirmed away from his touch, not feeling even the slightest of affection. “I always felt things for Jughead, things that I couldn’t quite understand, but then he shut everyone out and disappeared and you came along, so I got myself distracted. But you and I would have never lasted, Archie… Because sooner or later, I’d definitely find my way to Jughead.” she confessed and her heart ached at the thought of the dark haired boy with the sad eyes, at the thought that she might have missed him if Archie’s answer had been different that night, that she might have missed that feeling inside her chest that compared to nothing she ever felt before for anyone.

“Is that your final answer?” Archie let a heavy sigh, turning his defeated frown to the floor, where he thought she wouldn’t see it.

“Yes.” Betty replied without missing a beat and in all certainty. “And one last thing; you’d better lose those jackass ways they brainwash you with in those locker rooms. Not that there’s any of your business but we never did anything in here that would make you or your dad feel uncomfortable in your own house. The way you implied that and talked to Jughead tonight was unacceptable.” She saw him dropping his head more to the ground in shame and felt a tad of relief at that, seeing that some bits and pieces of the Archie she got to call her best friend were still there. “Start planning your apology.” She advised and walked softly around, gathering her cardigan and putting on her sneakers before heading to the door.

“I’m sorry, Archie… I’m not the Betty you got used to always have around anymore.” And with that she was gone too, leaving the redheaded boy behind, regretting all the choices he had made in his short lived life.

It didn’t take long for her to find him; after all she knew by now all his secrets and hiding spots. If he was just anxious or a tad annoyed he would be writing at Pop’s, if he was upset he would be spending time in the treehouse and if he was borderline angry he would be on the small hill behind the now completely demolished drive-in.

Tonight was one of those very rare code-red nights.

She found him sitting on top of the back of the single bench right in front of the small opening. The view was amazing from up there, the lights of the whole town to his feet, plus the still lingering aura of the place he loved the most. Jughead loved that bench and the freedom it offered him; it always calmed him.

Dead leaves and small branches cracked under her sneakers with every step she took but he just sat there unfazed, looking straight ahead. He could hear somebody approaching and he knew it was her but he didn’t want to face reality just yet, he wasn’t ready for the ending credits to roll.

“Hey there stranger.” Her sweet greeting disrupted the silence of night sky and he watched with the corner of his eyes as she rounded the corner and took a seat next to him.

A couple of minutes passed, both of them not knowing how to start.

“You can just say it. I’ll understand.” Jughead tried to be brave once again in his life, his voice steady thanks to all the practice he had done talking with his dad and faking indifference, even though his heart was aching every time.

Betty just turned to look at his profile, jaw clenched as she immediately understood where he was going with it.

“And what am I about to say exactly?” she pronounced the words with difficulty.

“Let’s not beat around the bush, Bets…” he spoke like he was tired, eyes dropping to stare at his bended knees.

“No, say it. Say what I’m about to say since you know me that well!” she challenged with that tone of voice that always made him shrink to a smaller size.

He sighed; he had to get it over with. “I get it, you and Archie go along way and now that he changed his mind…”

Betty laughed with no humor at all, pushing herself to stand up. “Great, Jughead are you done, alright? Do you predict other stuff too? Like-like can you warn me about Cheryl’s behavior tomorrow morning at practice or-or, yeah, Veronica got a text from her ex from New York what are his intentions huh? Cos really if you have such a talent it shouldn’t go to waste, let’s make a good use out of it!” she kept rambling in high speed, her voice growing impatient and louder and her hand gestures expressing the frustration her little theatricals were hiding.

“Betty, that’s not the time for you to joke around.” Jughead replied in all seriousness, raising an eyebrow indicating that he wouldn’t handle any of her sass right now.

“Don’t Betty me! If you have something to say, say it to my face!” she demanded angrily.

“Archie won! What else am I supposed to say?” he yelled and stormed to his feet too, his anger crashing like a lightening bold between them.

“Love is not a victory match, Jughead!” Betty spat back at the top of her lungs, hands bawling in fists and green eyes in the verge of angry tears. “And I’m not a prize to be won!”

“I never said that…”

“Oh you just did!” she interrupted him with venom in her voice. “You think that I’m this shallow girl that would have you as a rebound, as just a random body to keep the space in her bed warm until some prince charming would finally come to swipe her off her feet!” she was full on screaming now.

“You told me to step away!” Jughead’s voice was stern and loud, hurt that she had kicked him out, the boy having thought at that moment that her choice was obvious.

“Because I wanted to protect you, you jackass!” Betty screamed, delivering a hard push on his chest in utter frustration, only for him to bounce back at her in reflex and anger, their faces inches apart and eyes connected in a stare off. “Because if you stayed in there you would have done things you’d regret later. And because that was my place to clear things up with Archie, not yours.”

“I would never regret standing up for you.” Jughead stated in a softer voice but still full of determination.

Betty scoffed, curling her arms over her chest and turning to look straight ahead. “You better regret doubting me.” She was angry at him that even for a moment he thought he was just a second choice.

There was silence again. Jughead dropped his head to the ground and sighed. “It doesn’t help being in Archie’s shadow all my life. I am in love with you Betty since I can remember myself. But you were blind and all you ever saw was Archie.” He confessed, practically stripping naked regarding all his emotions about her.

The blonde slowly turned to look at him, not quiet believing her ears. “Who’s the blind one now?” she chuckled lightly and Jughead raised his eyes hesitantly at her. “My eyes were always on you; I didn’t know it back then but after this time we spent together I finally understood that everything was always about you. Not Archie not anyone else. You; Forsythe Pendleton Jones III.” Betty closed her eyes and smiled at his silly name and the silly boy that didn’t know how much it meant for her.

It had been years since Jughead had heard his full name. He hated that name. And he hated that stunning blonde that made him love it at that very second. So he did what his gut told him too.

Betty suddenly felt a rush of air and then she was out of this reality as his lips danced over hers, hungrily and with such ferocity that she never experienced by him before. They had their fair share of passionate make out sessions but this was something else, something needy and primal, something that people experience in train stations or hospital rooms where the need to stay connected becomes vital and the mind gets inflamed. Betty could feel his palms holding her face for dear life and she clung onto his waist, her knuckles turning white from the strong hold of her fingers on his jacket. His tongue was deliciously devouring every inch of her mouth and she brought hers to do the same, both of them moaning into the kiss and attacking each other more vigorously with bites and nibbles and rolling of their bodies against each other.

“If half of the things you just said are true, I can die a happy man even right now.” He breathed against her lips once they pulled back for much needed oxygen, rubbing his forehead over hers in despair.

“They are all true, you stubborn dork.” She breathed back, biting her down lip before tugging at his with her teeth, making him blindly lean forward for more. “And, no, you are not allowed to die not now not ever.” He smirked lightly at that, Betty having missed it already.

“I’m sorry I doubted you.” He whispered, pulling back to look her directly in her eyes.

“I’m sorry I yelled at you.” She hugged his waist, Jughead closing his arms around her neck, pecking the top of her head. They stayed like that for a while before she spoke again, voice muffled against his chest. “That was our very first official fight.” Betty pointed out.

“I hated it. Please let’s promise not to do that again.” He flinched adorably and she raised herself on her tiptoes to give him a peck.

“Yeah, let’s do that.” She agreed and she raised her hand, waiting a hi-five, Jughead shaking his head in amusement and chuckling but in the end hi-fiving her anyway, before curling his arm over her shoulders.

“I’m terribly in love with you, don’t you ever forget that.” Betty curled to his side and admitted truthfully, caressing his cheek.

“How can I forget the air that I breathe?” he told her like the amazing writer he was and Betty melted in an instant, Jughead leaning down to kiss her, pouring inside the kiss a million more words he had yet to say.

#bughead #jetty #bughead fanfiction #bughead fic #betty x jughead #betty and jughead #betty cooper #jughead jones #bughead prompts #riverdale #riverdale fic #riverdaleships #otp:sundaes & plaids #mywriting

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