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rosie-writings · 29 days

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For Just a Moment I'm Whole Again

Request: anon—ghost!Reader falls in love with Colby

Summary: ghost!Reader finds out that her twin flame is Colby who was born decades after she died, and upon meeting him for the first time, she needs his help to usher her on to the afterlife to be free from the purgatory she roams.

Warnings: ghost!Reader x Colby smut, Age Gap, Bittersweetness, light Angst, Fluff, and Twin Flame relationship

Words: 6.6k

No Y/N Use

Title from 'Calcutta' by Sleep Token

A/N: Technically, Reader is 19 while Colby is 27, however she died nearly thirty years before he was born, so who's older?

I stopped crying about it a few years ago.

Maybe a decade or two, I wasn’t quite sure. It’s not that I was upset about how I died, I almost forgot the pain of it all, I was upset because out of everywhere I could have died, it was in a house.

A lonely house.

After I died, apparently my friends were too traumatized to keep the house, so they sold it. I tried to get their attention. Everyday I tried to convince them that purgatory was real and they forced me into it by leaving. What was I supposed to do alone in a house that no one wanted to buy because a death occurred?

When I found out that they also rumored to their realtor that it was haunted, I wanted to slap the lives out of them. Of course it was haunted; that was your best friend trying to get you to look at me for once before I could never see you again—

I cried for years.

No one bought the house.

I slept in the king sized bed in the room upstairs alone and cold.

There was a hotspot in the middle of the house.

The house was built upon a particular mineral that ushered in traveling ghosts, and the convenient vortex in the center of it aided their arrival. Occasionally I met other ghosts and other inhuman beings that couldn’t care less about me. They probably had millennia of experience navigating the afterlife’s purgatory on earth while I was only a couple decades old.

I think I died in 1971. I couldn’t remember.

The day this house was bought, I thought I was saved.

Instead, major renovations took place. They ripped the nostalgic wallpapers off the walls and tore out the carpets that my human and ghostly feet were all too familiar with.

”How about you chose an actually appealing pint this time, motherfucker,” I spat at the contractor who walked right through me in the main hallway upstairs. I rolled my eyes and followed him into the primary suite.

Today was the day they renovated my bedroom.

”I wonder how many years it’s been; you look fucking weird. Do all men have that silly ass haircut or something now?” I asked as I sat on top of the ladder in the middle of the room. “Thanks so much for bringing your tool batteries in here. You don’t need those do you?” I felt their powerful buzzing. I felt the electricity waving through the room and I sucked it all up.

With every minute that passed, I felt stronger and stronger, until.

”Oops—“ I sighed in boredom as I knocked a paint can off the top of the ladder.

The worker whirled around with wide eyes and basically looked at me in mine, but he saw through me. I rolled my eyes again.

“You humans are all the fucking same. God, I was so damn embarrassing as a human. Can’t you at least try to talk to me? I’m so fucking—“

His co-worker called his name and walked in the room.

”What the fuck have you done?” The second shouted. White paint pooled on the concrete below me.

”At least you didn’t put floor in yet—“

”It just-It just fell! I didn’t even touch it! I put it up there like 20 minutes ago and-and it just fell!” The second worker grumbled and picked up the emptying can.

”They said there was some poltergeist activity in this house which is why it took fucking 50 years for it to be sold again.”

50 years?

My lack of heart nearly fell through the floor.

I sat on the ladder looking through them this time. 50 years? I was stuck here for 50 years with nothing to do? No one to talk to? I wanted to cry. Ghost cry sessions weren’t as satisfying as human cry sessions.

I had to get out of here.

I had to—

I stole the energy from all their equipment, but it was still not enough. Even with the electromagnetic energy pulsing through my spirit, the hotspot wouldn’t take me.

“Come on,” I grumbled. I looked through the vortex and saw spirals and spirals of unveiled spirits traveled through this purgatory called earth, and yet none would grab on to me. What was beyond? “Please! Take me! Get me out of here!”

I broke down crying again.

This was the biggest chance I had in order to leave and not even it was enough.

I curled up in the middle of the floor there and cried until I fell asleep.

Later, when the sun was high in the sky and the house was vacant, I woke up.

As I stood, I appeared in the master bedroom so I could sleep in the bed—

“What the fuck?” I asked to nothing.

The walls were white, the flooring was finished with deep warm floorboards, and the bed frame was a plush cream color with a creamy duvet.

“They did this fast. I wonder how long I was asleep for.” There was a dresser, two nightstands, and a desk that all matched in a deep brown, practically black, wood finish. “We go 50 years in the future just to be completely devoid of all color. Jesus fuck.” I curled up in the bed regardless. “Oh my god,” I moaned loudly. “Actually, I take all that back. I will give up any color in my life to feel this mattress if only for a second. This is how technology should be used, oh my god…”

I don’t remember finishing my sentence, I fell unconscious again.

I woke up to the sound of voices.

I shot to the foyer in a blink of an eye and I saw a family. A mom, a dad, three kids, and a dog, and I nearly cried on sight.

”Hello! Oh my god, yes thank everything good and mighty. You bought this house? I’m not alone anymore!” The dad walked through me. “I’m so excited—Oh my god your dog is so cute!” I fell to my knees in front of the Husky and it howled a talking fit at me, and when I raised my hand to pet it, it ran away from me so fast that it slid across the floor on its nails. “I’m not that scary, I don’t think,” I sighed and stood up again.

There was a girl, probably fifteen or sixteen, who walked right past me with something in her hands.

”Oh what’s that?” I asked as I followed her. The rectangle in her hand illuminated back at her like a TV screen and her thumbs furiously typed on some kind of keyless keyboard. “Holy shit! Is that one of those phones that all the futuristic movies talked about? We have them in the real world now?” I nearly screamed. I plopped into a vacant barstool next to her. “I would have loved that,” I grumbled. I devised a plan to steal it from her in her sleep and play with it all night.

I watched as she turned it on again.

”A passcode?” I questioned and I was ready to memorize it, but suddenly a blue light scanned down her face and it unlocked by itself. “Now that’s—“ I got out of my seat and backed up from her. “That’s weird. Can that detect ghosts?”

“Come on! Let’s go in the pool!” I gasped when the younger boy ran right through me and out the backdoor. I smiled when he cannon balled in the pool out back.

“Lukas! It is 40 degrees outside, get your ass in the house now!” His mother screamed, and I laughed.

“Oh yeah, they put so many cool pool toys in the chest out there,” I told him as I stepped foot outside. “You would love them in the summer though. It’s pretty cold—“

I must have walked too far out of the house, because in a blink of an eye, I teleported back in the middle of the vortex.

”God help me,” I sighed, and I started to devise my game plan to get into that girl’s device in the night.

It wasn’t easy.

The moon was high in the sky, and I walked in the girl’s bedroom cautiously. Not like she could see me, but I could make noises and I didn’t want to scare her.

Her phone lay on the table next to her bed with a cord coming from it, and she slept soundlessly next to it. I picked it up.

It illuminated to life and I gasped. I read the time and date.

2:35am, December 20, 2021

”Oh.. my god…” I whispered slowly.

2021? That wasn’t a real year. It had been 50 years that I was—

How was I going to get out of here? I needed out. First I needed this girl’s device. I grabbed it, and when it scanned my face, it said it was the incorrect Face ID.

I pointed it at the girl cautiously, and after a few recalculating aims, it unlocked. I brought it back to me and saw so many colors I didn’t know which to tap first. The entire screen responded to my touch.

I flicked through the squares on the screen and with each one, I read more and more paragraphs about people. It looked like the news or something. I couldn’t believe how amazing this device was at taking photos.

“I don’t understand,” I whispered. The squares where it seemed like I could communicate with other people intimidated me; I didn't understand who I was talking to so I tried to get out of it and go back to the original place where all the squares were. I accidentally swiped and it moved the screen and I tapped out of it. That was how you got out of it, got it.

I found another app that was red. I clicked it. This time photos with short captions were the only things I scrolled through. After a second, I clicked one to make it larger, but instead, it brought me to another screen and a video began playing.

The audio was so loud and clear, I gasped and tried to figure out how to silence it. The girl disturbed next to me. The button I clicked turned the volume down.

A video played of the same photo I clicked on—

Those weren’t photos, they must have been paused videos or something. I watched and listened and it was actually entertaining. After the video ended, I clicked another.

And then another.

And before I knew it, the sun peeked over the horizon. The time read 7:30am. I had been watching these videos for five hours.

I put the phone down and walked out of the room.

I would have loved 2021.

I did it again the next night.

I sat there on the floor against the nightstand and watched more videos.

Video after video, I started to remember the names of the people who posted them. I didn’t remember the rabbit trail I went down; recommended video after recommended video led me to one that made me stop my jumping around.

It was a video of two idiotic boys messing around in a haunted house.

Now, I never was into haunted or spooky things when I was alive, and being dead now, I would say that I had a pretty large say in and experience in what these boneheads talked about.

I didn’t expect them to be so respectful. And considerate, too.

I watched as they talked to spirits in the house, and it was startling to watch humans interact with us spirits from their perspective. I forgot that that was all they saw.

I forgot how limited I was when I was trapped in my human skin.

How silly they were; it didn’t matter that they would have been seven years older than I was. Most of the people were children on YouTube, and they were the worst of them.

Sam and Colby certainly made me laugh, and their means of communicating with ghosts even more so.

There were some videos that scared me.

I liked the two a lot, and I didn’t want them to get hurt or manipulated by demonic forces. I had seen demonic forces firsthand, and humans were stupid enough to summon them. If I was afraid of them, humans definitely should have been.

The way they assumed everything was as sinister as they did made me laugh the most because the majority of spirits communicated with them were teasing them and cracking jokes. The boys took everything too seriously, but that was why they were so good.

They cared.

But one of them, Colby, I couldn’t keep my eyes off of. It was like I knew him. Warmth spread through me, and for the first time since I died, I was overcome with the need to leave. The pull teased me, beckoned me.

I was over forty years older than him; I would have never met him, so how did I know him?

Why did I need him?

I needed someone who cared about me like they did for spirits. I needed a human who cared to come in and help me. Certainly there were other humans out there who could help me like Sam and Colby, but they definitely weren’t as loud or had as much faith as they did in their capabilities.

I would be lying if I said I didn’t cry when that family left the house two days later. It wasn’t because I would be lonely again but because I couldn’t drown myself in Sam and Colby’s videos.

Or in Colby’s appearance and voice.

Hopefully someone else would stay for a week and I could use their phones to watch YouTube again.

Two weeks later, the house was booked again.

I finally learned that the house I was trapped in was turned into something called an AirBnb and I supposed that it was a house rented like a hotel.

The same routine spun into effect.

A new visitor spent the week here, I drained their batteries in everything they brought, I drowned myself in YouTube (to be honest, I drowned myself in the force that was Colby’s voice), and spent endless time spinning around the house in boredom wondering when the human chosen to save me would come.

They would come and help one day, I knew it.

The front door opened.

I was out of the bed in a flash and appeared in the foyer to see the new visitors. Two men walked in the house, and I wondered what on earth they were up to for arriving near two in the morning.

It was three years after I first learned what YouTube and social media was. I was ingrained in the politics, culture, society, and hyper-communicative world that was 2024.

I toed the fence. I couldn’t decide whether I wanted to stay here and live as a free spirit in 2024 forever or be taken into the next spiritual realm. I knew I couldn’t stay forever, and with every year that passed, I felt the fabrics of my spirit being taken away into nothing.

I needed help.

When I came spirit to face with the two new visiting men, my entire world flipped upside down.

I knew them.

They were the ones with the YouTube channel.

They were—

”I know we said we would do some stuff before we go to sleep, but I literally—“

”No, I know,” the other sighed. “I’m so tired too. We got here a lot later than we planned.”

”We should just sleep then wake up a bit earlier than we planned to have more time to do what we couldn’t now.” The other nodded lazily.

”Yeah, we can do that.”

”Night, Colby,” said the blond one as he walked up the stairs.

”Night, Sam,” said the one I stood next to in between the foyer and the living room.

If I had a heart, it would have pumped loudly in my ears, and if I had a tongue, it would have dried up. Ever so slowly, I turned and looked at Colby as he pulled things from the backpack he had placed on the couch. His back faced me.

And I couldn’t control myself, the intrusive thoughts won. I wondered what he would do if I—

At the sound of his water bottle crashing into the hardwood floor, Colby whirled around with wide eyes and watched as it rolled to a stop.

“What the fuck?” He whispered. I gasped when he walked through me. I turned and watched as he picked it up and placed it back on the table. He watched it.

With a smile, I didn’t take my gaze off his face as I knocked it back onto the floor. He took two steps back.

That was when the realization dawned on me. I couldn’t take my eyes off of him. When I felt him, when I was near him, it made sense. The pieces shoved together painfully.

“Uh… Sam?” Colby called.

“What?” He called cautiously as he came from his room. “What’s wrong?”

”I—I swear to god, this water bottle fell off the table deliberately. Like someone knocked it over, twice.”

”Really?” He asked hesitantly when his feet hit his floor. At this point, they both stood in front of me and I crossed my arms in boredom. I was nearly as tall as the two; they were a lot smaller in person.

I was tall for a girl; almost five foot nine.

He placed the water bottle back down.

I stared at it. Humans were so dumb. I watched their anticipation knowing full well I wouldn’t satisfy them.

“What is happening, I swore it happened and it’s not now which means it’s not like the table is slanted or something.”

”That’s weird,” Sam said.

“You can go back to bed, sorry—“

”No, you’re fine, stupid,” Sam laughed as he went back.

Of course when he was halfway up the stairs with his back turned I yanked it off the table. Colby already left to the couch though, and so when Sam turned around quickly, he froze when he realized Colby was completely out of reach.

”See? I told you!” Colby cried.

”Oh shit… Yeah I have no idea how to explain that.”

”Wanna get a rem pod and the camera or something?” Colby asked.

“Maybe if something else happens.”

”Okay, okay,” Colby said, and I watched in surprise when Sam walked back to his room. They must have been tired then.

That didn’t mean I couldn’t mess with Colby until he went to sleep.

”You guys are idiots,” I said as if I expected a response. “Are you actually staying up or are you—oh,” I gasped when he turned around and walked through me before I could react. He picked up his bag and walked up the stairs. I sighed.

“That answers that.”

I peeked around the door. Colby stood in his room. I watched as he situated the things from his backpack. Those were some fancy cameras, small ones for that matter, and it looked like he charged the batteries. My eyes couldn’t pull from his skin though. He only wore his black jeans.

He turned towards me and I watched as he walked to the desk in his room. I intently focused on his face and his tattoos. He was so pretty. But he looked so different. I walked into the room and stood at the desk with him.

”What are these?” I asked and I touched the devices on the desk. Then, I gasped as his hand went through mine. My hand paused and I tried to feel the warmth. What would have been my hand burned with warmth, and I didn’t pull it away.

Colby froze in his place and stared at his hand. It burned cold.

But then he turned from the table and went back to the bed.

Now, never once in my life have I snooped. I’ve never pried, intruded, or watched anyone when they didn’t think they could be perceived. But I couldn’t leave his room. I froze in my place as I watched when he pulled his pants off. I couldn’t focus on anything else except his body. The way he moved, settled in the room, got in the bed, and plugged his phone in; every decision and every thought process was so painfully human.

I liked him a lot. Too much.

I wanted him to know I was here too.

The last time I tried to communicate with humans was with my best friends after the accident happened. After, their realtor was a bitch. There was a medium who was more so a dumbass who came to communicate with me. I scared her, and perhaps that went wrong. That might have been why it took so long for this place to be renovated.

I needed to talk to Colby. I wanted him.

I never wanted anyone as badly as I wanted him.

I stood in front of the desk where the devices were strewn about, and as he read his phone, I touched one of the devices.

I recognized one. It was a radio of sorts. One of the mediums who tried to communicate with me used it. Perhaps they were here to try to talk to me anyway.

I turned the spirit box on.

Immediately, Colby sat straight up in his bed. His phone was forgotten on the sheets. I laughed and watched as his confused eyes scanned the room.

”Hello,” I laughed. Then I used energy and found the word on a channel—

Hello

Colby looked around the room.

”Um, hi?” He said.

If I had a body, I was pretty sure the feeling I had was akin to my heart falling out of my ass.

“I know who you are, you publish on YouTube, right?”

I know you

Colby’s face turned with distrust.

“What—Are there actually spirits in this house?” He asked. I rolled my eyes.

”Obviously. You’re so dumb. I thought you know how to talk to us—

Duh…

He scoffed and his shock turned into an amused expression.

”What’s your na—“

Don’t be stupid

He stopped talking and his eyes widened.

”How do you know me? I’ve never been here.”

”You literally have 11 million people watching you on YouTube, don’t be silly,” I sighed.

You make videos

”You’re seen my—“ He gasped and thought for a moment. “How old are you? How long have you been here?”

For a long time

”I’m supposed to be nineteen,” I sighed.

Nineteen

”Nineteen—Holy shit wait, someone—the owners said a nineteen year old died here in the 70s—“

”That was totally me.”

Colby looked at the spirit box on the table and I smiled.

“Yeah,” he gasped nervously. “Are you the only spirit in the house?”

”Only one that lives here, anyway,” I scoffed.

Only one

”I’m sorry you’re alone.” I froze.

“What did you say?” I asked quietly, timidly. Silence. It defeated me.

It had been over 50 years since the accident and in all that time, no one apologized.

No one said sorry about my death or that I was alone. Not a single person had the empathy. Colby stared back at the spirit box. His eyes fell from it. He looked around the room in thought.

Suddenly, the urge ever too heavy came over me.

I glided straight over to him and I sat on the bed.

He shot up with his eyes wide.

If I had eyes, he would have looked right into them.

”Are-Are you on the bed with me?”

”Yes,” I confidently said and tried to use all my energy to tell the spirit box—

Yes… On this bed…

”Holy shit,” Colby whispered.

I felt the way his heart skipped.

The way his skin lit on fire.

I moved forward, and when I did, his skin fell cold.

”Did-Did you just touch me?”

“I’m on top of you.”

And it was true. I straddled him. I held his face in my lack of hands, and the warmth coursed through me like an electrical current. I needed him. He tethered me back into reality; the human world. That urge and that desperation to move onto the spirit realm died the moment I touched him.

Top

”You’re on me?” He rested his weight on his hands behind him. When he pushed his hips forward, a gasp left me because I felt the pressure.

Familiarity.

“I remember you, Colby. I know you, we knew each other—‘

Colby

”Why did you say my—“

I know you

“You know—oh shit,” he gasped. My vision hazed. My perception of my surroundings grew blurry as if I was about to sleep.

Heat coursed my body, and I held onto him to keep from falling asleep.

”You feel really good,” I gasped. I didn’t think about this.

We knew each other

“What?” He gasped as his body went rigid. Sexual things were so far from me. I figured that when I moved onto the spirit realm, more doors to explore sexuality would open. I never came across another human I viewed as desirable like him.

I never came across a human or spirit that felt as familiar as he was.

I knew he already had two female ghosts who liked him and messed around with him.

Good

”What’s good?” He gasped again. This time, it sounded like he was more breathless than anything.

”You.”

You

”Is that you making me feel like this? Are you touching me?” I moaned when I thrusted against him over and over. “Holy fuck—I just got so… What am I even doing?” Colby sighed more so to himself and then he laid himself back down against the bed. I gasped when he moved through me.

I looked down at him as his forearm rested across his forehead. His face was flushed and eyes were closed in thought.

I couldn’t deny the pressure under me. I knew he was painfully hard under me, but I had no intention of leaving or letting him do it himself. I looked down and couldn’t look away from his body. It was on fire, and the pressure in his underwear grew and grew.

I wish I could feel him for real with my hands and my skin.

“Holy fuck,” he moaned this time, and I moaned as well. He sounded so good like this. “I feel so crazy. Please tell me this is you doing this to me and not me—“

”I’m doing it. I’m touching you, Colby. Let me touch you.” Colby moaned again and again as I thrusted against him.

It’s me

His eyes shot open again.

Let me touch you

“Fuck, okay—holy shit—okay you’re-you’re actually real.”

”Yes,” I laughed. “I want to see you feel good.”

“If you’re actually real, get off of me and make me stop feeling like this—“

I was on the other side of the room in an instant. Colby sat up with a flushed face.

“What the fuck,” he whispered. I felt as the arousal in his body diminished. “And…” He mumbled hesitantly. “And if you’re real, get on top of me. Turn me on again.”

I blinked and I straddled Colby’s lap.

“Holy fucking—ugh.” And his head tossed into the pillow and eyes rolled back.

”Fuck,” I gasped as I watched him throw his arm across his mouth to conceal his moans.

Immediately, his arousal built again, and I thrusted against him over and over.

”You’re making me—Oh my god, don’t stop please,” Colby gasped.

You feel good

”Fuck,” he gasped.

He looked up at me and I swore he saw me. He didn't look through me, and I wished I could touch him.

Kiss him.

”You’re going to make me come.”

“Oh my god yeah, I want to see you come,” I mumbled. I would resurrect myself from the dead just to kill myself again if he knew I said that so I tried to hold in the energy. I didn’t want the music box to pick up on anything.

I tried to pull his underwear down. It was too difficult, too heavy. I was too tired. My gaze flashed around the room.

His phone.

I focused my energy on his phone and took the energy from it. The strength boiled and boiled in my being until I opened my eyes and watched as the waistband of it ever so slightly pulled back.

”Oh my fucking god—“ Colby gasped, and I cried out in surprise when he sat up straight and kicked himself away from me. “You-You fucking pulled—Are you trying to take my underwear off? Oh my god—You’re fucking real. You really are—“

“Colby it’s okay, I’m not going to hurt you I want to make you feel good—“

Don’t be scared

”What?” He gasped and whirled his gaze to the spirit box.

Make you feel good

“I’m—“ he paused. He looked around the room. “I’m not scared. I can’t believe you’re communicating so well with me.”

”I’m taking power from your phone,” I said towards the spirit box.

This cell phone

Colby looked back to the spirit box.

”My phone?”

Using energy

”Oh, you’re taking the energy from my phone? Let me plug it in so you can take as much as you want—“

Yes

”Okay—“ He groaned as he leaned over and plugged it in. He left it on the table next to the bed. I didn’t give him another second to say a sentence. I pushed down against him and he drew in an uneven breath. “I can’t believe I can feel you.”

”Can you feel this?” I grinded down on him, and his arm caught another moan behind his mouth.

“Holy shit—I think I felt-I felt that. I’m so—oh my god!” I pulled at his underwear again, and this time, I pulled it halfway down. “I’m so…” He sighed into a moan, and I felt the way heat traveled down his body. His temperature rose, and I couldn’t look away. Not a second passed that I didn’t utterly consume the image of his real life human body under me.

I pushed again and again, and before his hand could reach into his underwear, he gasped a rather louder moan and spilled in the fabric.

I quickly tried to pull it back again, and this time, his underwear pulled halfway off.

“Oh my god—“ I gasped as I watched the rest of his fluids cover his stomach.

”You just fucking—You actually took them off,” he gasped breathlessly as he gathered himself together after his orgasm.

Pleasure washed through me as well, but it wasn’t as tangible as it used to be when I was alive. I was on fire, and I wanted more, anything more, but it was impossible here.

Then the tug.

I wanted to move on.

It was as if this window of pleasure piqued my interest, and I knew that if I moved onto the spiritual realm, I could live again. I wouldn’t be trapped in this purgatory.

Colby was so cute though. He was familiar; he looked like he was mine. We were each other’s. I wanted him to myself, but there was no way I could take him with me. He needed to finish living as a human first.

Then maybe I would hunt him down and rescue him from his purgatory so he wouldn’t have to live like this for 50 years like me.

“Did you leave?” Colby whispered.

”No. I’m right here.”

Here

“Okay,” he sighed and relaxed into the pillow. “I can’t believe I just had sex with a ghost—wait,” he gasped and looked around the room. “Did I fuck you? That’s so—What the fuck…”

“No, I just touched you. I wanted you to feel good. I can’t feel good until I move on.”

No… For you… I don’t feel good

”What?” Colby gasped. “You don’t feel good?”

”I can’t.”

Can’t

”Oh, because… Is sex only for human bodies then?”

”No,” I said, and reminded myself to be concise for the spirit box

”When I escape I can feel something again.”

When I escape

”You’re trapped here?” Colby gasped. The gears turned in his head and excitement welled in me.

”Help me out, please.”

Help me

”Help you do what? Do you need to move on?”

”Yes! Help me to the spiritual world.”

Yes

”Where do you need me to—”

Spirit world

”Holy shit,” Colby whispered. “You want me to help move you out of purgatory? Is that what this house is for you?’

”Yes!” I exclaimed.

He understood!

Yes

”Well then I’m getting up and telling Sam.”

If I had a body, I would scream and cry for joy.

Also, if I had a body, it would burn alive at the sight of Colby cleaning himself up, so I left the room and waited in the hallway with welling excitement.

“You’ll actually use the spirit box and not make me look like a freak in front of him, right?”

”Yeah, I’ll talk to him,” I laughed.

Yes

”Good,” he scoffed as he pulled on clothes.

“I promise.”

”Dude, that’s crazy if it’s true.” I watched as Colby told Sam what had happened and conveniently left out the part where I touched him. If he didn’t want Sam to know, then I wouldn’t expose him in that way. “Let’s see if she actually communicates as accurately as that,” Sam said as he turned on the spirit box. “Would we need to try the Estes?”

”Maybe we can,” Colby sighed. “There was a vortex downstairs, did you see it?”

”No I didn’t actually,” he gasped. “Do you want to do Estes there?”

“I’m getting bored,” I grumbled.

Let’s hurry it up

”Whoa!” Sam cried when the box spat those words out at him.

”Yeah,” Colby laughed. “She isn’t very patient.”

“Are you trapped here like Colby sai—“

”Yes!”

Yes

”Oh my god.”

”I told you!” I watched the boys as they grabbed their things. “Let's do it now.”

And as they walked through me towards the staircase, I froze with realization upon feeling Colby's body. It ached with excitement, nervousness, and…

Longing?

I followed them and listened to his heart and the rushing of his blood. Something tuned to desperation flowed with it.

It would have been much easier for me to navigate life as a human if I could feel someone’s physical attraction to me like I could feel Colby’s. I didn’t think that was possible, especially since he couldn’t see me. For all I knew, they could still be on the fence about believing that I existed.

But I couldn’t deny the way he felt. The way Sam felt. Sam didn’t hear me or feel me the way Colby did, but I could tell by the warmth of his palms and the racing of his heart that he didn’t linger in denial anymore.

“I’m not even sure how to start this,” Sam said as he sat in the chair. He volunteered himself to be under the Estes method so that Colby could lead the interaction. I stood next to Sam in the middle of the vortex; the darkened mirrors holding endless hypnotizing space hung on either side of us.

“I know, it’s fine. I’ll figure it out when we get there. I’m pretty sure I just encourage her to move on and she uses energy or something. We’ll see.”

Sam pulled the blindfold down. Headphones placed over his ears.

I felt the energy from the spirit box shrill to life.

“Did you follow us down here?”

“Yes,” I said quickly. “I’m here.”

“Here,” Sam’s monotone voice spoke for me.

“Okay good.” Colby’s voice softened. I wanted to leave, I wanted it more than anything, but I also wished I had more time to listen to Colby, to be close to him. Every time I was near him, I zapped with electricity; a desperation I never knew. What would it be like if I was human? If we knew each other back then? What would it be like if we were born at the same time in the same state?

“Why are you afraid to move on?”

“I—All this time I wasn’t afraid, I just didn’t want to leave the human world, but now I can’t leave you. I want to stay with you, Colby.”

“Oh wow…” Sam muttered.

“What?” Colby said quickly.

“That was a long—Those were a lot of words,” he laughed sheepishly. “Um…” I repeated what I said but paraphrased it to make it easier for the box to pick me up. “I wasn’t afraid of it.”

“You aren’t?” Colby gasped. “Why haven’t you—”

“Missed people.”

“Oh, I see.”

“Let me stay with you.”

“What?” Colby paused this time. “So you didn’t move on because you missed people and now you want to stay with us? Is it because you haven’t talked to anyone except for us—”

“No,” I grumbled. “I want you, Colby. No one else.”

“You, Colby.”

“Me?” He whispered. “Why do you want to stay with me? You can’t do that. You need to move on–”

“I wish we had time together then you would understand.” I wished that I could cry like humans did at that moment. I cried, but no pressure relieved me.

“We could have had more time.” Colby’s body froze as he stared in shock at Sam. Or maybe he stared through him. He wanted something to look at; he couldn’t see me. I wished I could reveal myself to him, but I didn’t know how.

“Why do you want us to have more time?”

“Because we would have been together. I could have actually probably loved you.”

“I would have…. I didn’t catch— Love you.”

“I would have loved you…” Colby whispered. “It’s too late,” he told me, but the quietness of his voice sounded like he figured it out for himself.

“I can see you again, Colby.”

“See you again… Colby, dude it keeps saying your name.”

“I know,” Colby spoke absentmindedly. He looked like he was in a trance more than Sam was even though he rocked back and forth in the Estes method. “Are—Do you know me?”

“Maybe in a past life. We can find each other in the next.”

“Past life.”

“Holy shit.” His voice was quiet and I wanted nothing more than to hug him. I stood face to face with him in the blink of an eye.

“I will see you soon, Colby.”

And I kissed him.

He blinked quickly and warm surprise flooded me when he licked his lips once.

“See you soon.” He didn't know what to say. I felt the tension in his throat.

“Don’t cry. Now tell me to leave and then you can find me when you’re done living here.”

“Help me leave.” Colby shook his head.

“No–”

“Please help me, Colby. I need to go on. You can’t stay here forever. I’ll be able to see you still and you’ll be able to feel me until one day you’ll see me for the first time. Well, for the first time in this timeline. Isn’t that exciting?”

“Please help me… You will still… I didn’t hear—Oh, You’ll still feel me.”

“I—I don’t like—”

“It’s okay, don’t be scared.” I stood in the vortex again. “Help me leave. I’ll see you later.”

“Don’t be scared. Help me leave.”

“Okay,” Colby said as he shook himself out of it. “It’s alright, you can move on. Spirits leave this house, move on to the next life.”

That tug returned, but now it was unavoidable. The mirrors lulled me into a beckoning trance.

“Move on and be free from this house.”

The mirror pulled me in, the house was unreachable now.

“Love you.”

As Sam pulled off the blindfold, Colby’s eyes darted towards mine from where I traveled through the mirror, and from the look on his face—the pure focus on me, drift of his tear filled eyes across my face—he saw me.

Then all I saw was light.

A/N: I took a much needed break. Not to info or trauma dump, but my mom moved about four hours away from me a week ago, and I only found out three weeks before that. After helping her move, it's been pretty hard for me since we've only ever lived at most 10 minutes from each other. Thanks for being patient, and I'm going to hop back on that writing grind because I miss it!

Also, Comment if you would rather read multi-chapter fics on Tumblr or Ao3. This will help me navigate where to post if I do not cross post.

✧˖*°࿐

Taglist (Comment to be added):

@a-random-google-user

@graceciesiels22

@honestlybabymiracle

@xxsecretscenekidxx

@thedeadlynights

@glittervame

@rockwyu

@worldlxvlys

@benbarnesprettygurl

#sam and colby #colby brock #18+ only #minors dni #rosie writings #rosie hub #colby brock smut #colby brock x reader #fanfic #fanfiction #ao3 #ao3 writer

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nouvxllev · 4 months

Text

a snowy night

Pairing: Tara Carpenter x Fem!Reader

Summary: in which you had a fun idea for you and taras first anniversary (and christmas)

Words: 2.3k

Warnings: none

a/n: merry late christmas everyone!!!

masterlist.

Pulling your very sleepy girlfriend out of her bedrest wasn't ideal for a first anniversary, nor the first very early morning of Christmas.

"Y/n," Tara groaned, her body and pajamas getting dragged across the ground like she was a sack of vegetables, "Y/n, it's literally the middle of the night, what are you doing?"

Ignoring Tara's protests, you persisted in dragging her like a lifeless corpse you found on the snowy street of New York. "I know, I know, but trust me, you wanna see this!"

With some reluctance and a little bit of motivation from you, Tara mustered the energy to get up and finally walk with your hand guiding her.

"Okay, what's so important you had to drag me across our bedroom so early?" she mumbled, rubbing her eyes, still half-asleep as she yawned. You could feel her eyes observing you as best as she could, eyeing the duffel bag you carried, "And why do you have a duffel bag on you like you're gonna flee the country?"

"And why would I ruin the surprise by telling you?" You grinned, pulling her by the sleeve, "Okay, before I let you in on this, close your eyes." You both stood by the doorway of the bedroom, Tara looking slightly unimpressed.

"Tara, can't you trust your girlfriend for like one second?" You asked, crossing your arms and raising your eyebrows.

"No?" She chuckled, crossing your arms alongside you, "not after you pulled that prank on me last Christmas."

"Okay, but you've gotta admit, trapping you in a life-sized gingerbread house was pretty funny and, a stroke of genius by yours truly."

Tara rolled her eyes, a fond smile tugging at the corners of her lips, "How'd you even do that anyway?"

"You know I always love the flair for the dramatic." You looked up at her, nothing but smile and love from your eyes.

"Which is why I love you." Tara whispered, her arms wrapping around your waist as she pulls you in closer.

You chuckled, she leaning into Taras hug. "And which is why you're going to love this! Come on, close your eyes," you let go of Tara's grip on you, taking her hands into yours and watching as she closed her eyes with her palm.

"I'm so breaking up with you if this is another prank," she remarked, playfully, of course, but who knows how likely that might become true?

"Oh don't say that, I won't be able to continue those anymore."

With Tara's eyes closed, you guided her into the living room, or maybe just a room with how you renovated it.

When you knew Tara was fast asleep, you had dashed over to the living room after taking your sweet time removing yourself from Taras koala-like cuddle from you and tore it down bit by bit.

Not really, but every piece of furniture scattered on the floor you relocated to the garage. The soft carpet that covered the tiles, was carefully stored in someplace else, revealing the smooth hardwood tiles underneath people could easily slide on.

You led Tara to the living room, her free hand intertwined with yours, the warmth of her palm this season never felt so comforting on yours.

"I knew you always wanted our anniversary to be unforgettable, ever since the day you told me on a warm winter night on top of the apartment building I used to live in, and I thought," you continued, pulling Taras hands down with your own, "what's more unforgettable than spontaneously pulling my girlfriend out of bed to go indoor skating with me in our home?"

Tara opened her eyes, only to see an impromptu ice rink in the middle of their living room. Fairy lights were adorning the corners, little Christmas trees scattered along the way, the floor was powdered to give it a little more boost to the slipperiness, and makeshift cardboard walls surrounded the area. It wasn't the biggest, considering it was only a living room, but it had everything that made Tara Carpenter happy. And that thought was enough for you when you designed this.

Her jaw dropped, and she looked at you with a mixture of disbelief and delight. "You did all this for our anniversary?" She questioned, excitement palpable in her voice.

You nodded, a proud grin on your face. "I wanted to make it special, something we'd remember." You giggled

Tara couldn't help but laugh, the joy bubbling up inside her. "You're fucking insane, you know that?" She pulled you in for a kiss, "but there's no denying that I love it."

You smiled, a lovesick one at that, before taking her hands again and leading her to the powdered floor. "Well, I figured if I couldn't take you to the ice rink in Central Park in the middle of the night, I'd bring the ice rink to us."

You put down the large duffle bag you had been carrying and opened it, pulling out two matching socks that kind of resembled the both of you, "And, as per ice rink tradition, we have skates! Or, socks, in this situation."

Tara chuckled at the sight of the matching socks, each knitted with a design you specifically asked for.

"A duffle bag for a pair of socks?" She laughed before taking the socks from you and slipping them on, "Only you would turn our living room into an ice rink and substitute skates with these."

"Well, I try my best," you replied with a playful wink, already putting on your own pair of socks. "Also, I still have many in store with this duffle bag."

You both stepped onto the powdered floor, the smoothness beneath made it super easy to glide and a comfortable feeling set between the two of you. Tara was wobbly at first when she first tried to slide across, but when your hand was with hers, she quickly found her balance.

"Tara, did you know your talented, smart, beautiful, girlfriend can do a triple axel?" you teased, letting go of Taras hold as you give yourself space from her.

She rolled her eyes playfully, "Oh please, as if you can even do a single one."

You smirked, feigning an offended look. "You deeply underestimate me, my love."

You took a few steps back until your body hit the cardboard walls. With little to no skating experience and the fact you've never trusted yourself once with your balance, you launched yourself. A bit too fast for your liking to the point you ended up doing not even a full rotation and crashed into Tara, "Fuck, oh shit Tara—!"

It was a decent attempt, you'd say so yourself since you didn't completely eat shit, but it gained a laugh from Tara who had been laughing her ass off ever since you landed on top of her.

"Okay, I'd give you points for your ambition and spirit." She chuckled one last time before pulling you and herself up.

"Thank you. Someone finally recognizes talent here."

"Is the talent the 'talent of crashing into your girlfriend?'" Tara teased, brushing off some of the imaginary dust from her clothes, but also the white powder that clung to her shirt.

You grabbed her hand and continued to skate, ignoring the heavy pain you had in your chest, "It's a skill only a select few possess, you know."

Tara rolled her eyes with an affectionate smile. "Then looks like I've got the most skilled girlfriend in the world."

The two of you continued to slide and glide all over the living room, talking about whatever and whenever. The both of you lost your balance here and there, and the both of you may or might not laughed before pulling the other one out of their misery on the cold powdered floor, but it was the most memorable moment of your life; you'd say.

Minutes turned into hours, and you and Tara continued until every single cardboard wall was down due to your attempts at doing probably one of the most difficult tricks in ice skating.

Exhausted but exhilarated, you and Tara found yourselves lying off the ice rink, taking off some steam and deep breaths.

You stood up, quite abruptly, and lent Tara a hand. "Mind coming with me?" You asked, eliciting a confused smile from Tara, but she took your hand anyway.

You helped Tara to her feet and led her outside the door, the cold breeze hitting the both of you like a truck. "Where are we going exactly?" She asked as you led her around the corner to where a ladder lies that goes up to the rooftop.

You quickly climbed up the ladder and turned back to Tara. "Come on, there's something else I want to show you," you say, as you reach for Tara's hand to pull her up.

To her surprise, there was a blanket laid on the rooftop, fairy lights being hung on poles you had taped to the ground, yet again, and cups of eggnog and hot chocolate waiting for you both. The city lights glittered in the distance, and the stars above shined brightly.

Honestly, Tara didn't know how she managed to have someone like you in her life.

"Y/n.. y/n, this is so— It's beautiful." She said, breathless, as she approached the picnic blanket with you in hand.

You smiled at Tara's genuine appreciation, happy that your surprise made her happy. "I'm glad you like it," you replied, squeezing her hand reassuringly. "Shall we sit, my love?"

Tara chuckled and sat down with you, never letting your hand go one bit. "The moon looks beautiful, even at this time."

You could've been looking at the moon, adoring its enchanting glow that reached the world, and the beauty of it all. But no, you were allured by another celestial being, something far more greater than anything that would exist in the cosmic universe, it was Tara.

"Yeah, it's quite beautiful."

The two of you sat in silence, gazing at the stars that slowly started to disappear as sunrise started to take over as you held hands together.

"I'm sorry." Tara broke the silence, her voice soft, "I should've planned something like this too for you, and for our anniversary. It's amazing, y/n."

You turned to Tara, a soft smile playing on your lips. "Tara, you being here with me is more than enough. I didn't plan this to receive anything in return; I just wanted to create a special moment for us and for you to have the best anniversary you can get from someone. And many more, of course." You reassured her, gently squeezing her hand, "Besides, being here with you is all I could ever ask for."

Tara leaned in and pressed a tender kiss against your cheek. "You're incredible, really. You know that?" she whispered, "you didn't have to do this."

"I had to, and I wanted to. You gave me so many happy moments in the short time we've been together, it's just a little something to pay you back."

Tara smiled as she wrapped your arms around yours, pulling you into a gentle embrace. "Thank you, y/n. I love you. Like, so much."

"Well, it's not over yet. There's one more thing," you said before unzipping the duffel bag you had brought and pulling out a box.

Tara raised an eyebrow, her curiosity piqued. "What is it?"

You turned to her, facing Tara with nothing but love.

"I want to make everything special and feel special for you, Tara. You're someone I couldn't bear to lose, and someone I didn't think I deserved, up until now. I want to tell you that I promise to do everything for you so that I'll deserve every piece of you in my heart." You vowed, opening up the box to reveal a promise ring. And, as if by cue, snowflakes were falling to the ground, and ones that ended up in Tara's hair. You never knew there was the absolute perfect time to gift the love of your life something special.

"Y/n—Y/n, this is too much, seriously." Taras heart swelled with love, her eyes widening and her smile reaching up to her ears, revealing the dimples you always loved.

"Never is it too much when I want to show my love to you, Tara. You only deserve the best, and only the best. So," you held your sentence as you lifted up Tara's hand and slid the promise ring onto her finger, "I bought this to tell you that I'm fully committed to you, body and soul, and promise I'll always cherish you no matter what. It's a reminder that you are deserving of all the happiness in the world."

Tara stared at the ring, content in her eyes as she looks up towards you. "Y/n, I don't know what to say. This is... it's perfect. Thank you."

You grinned, feeling a sense of contentment in making Tara feel special. "You don't have to say anything. Just know that you mean everything to me, and I'm grateful for every moment we share."

Tara chuckled, "For a moment, it felt like you were exchanging vows over there."

"Oh, my vows will be much more longer." You responded, a chuckle you gained from Tara.

"Well, speaking of vows," Tara began, her tone becoming more serious, "I want you to know that you have a special place in my heart since the day I met you. You've made every moment memorable that I didn't even know it was possible. Every mundane chore could never be the same now that I have you, y/n. God—I just, love you. Like so, so, so, much."

And with that, you leaned in for another kiss, embracing Tara and laying down with her as you both kissed. "I love you too, Tara."

The night, or maybe early morning, continued as you both laid down, seeing the sun take over the night sky as the moon was still visible.

You turned to Tara, "Do you think we could still sleep in?"

"I don't think people crossing the street on Christmas would like to see two people sleeping ontop of their rooftop."

"Baby, it's New York, people probably stumble into waaay worse things in their mornings."

Pulling your sleepy girlfriend out of her bedrest wasn't ideal for a first anniversary, nor the first very early morning of Christmas. But was it the best decision you've made? Definitely.

#tara carpenter x reader #tara carpenter x you #tara carpenter #tara carpenter x female reader #jenna ortega x reader #jenna ortega x you #jenna ortega

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mochimooon · 5 months

Text

Nurse Gojo - gojo satoru x reader

pairing: Gojo Satoru x fem! Reader summary: A few days post-op, you're still in the trenches of recovery. You had expected this, and assured everyone that you would be okay. In Satoru's mind, that meant you need him to be your nurse. word count: 2600+ notes: Back on the fluff train 🚂 The prompt used came from this list. Not requested, just something I wanted to write. Inspo came from my own experience recovering from a tonsillectomy. Nothing but fluff here. Also, still experimenting with Gojo's character. Haven't pinned down a solid characterization yet, but I'm having fun playing around with his personality. No references made to canon, but can be interpreted as in canon or as a non-curses AU. warnings: FLUFF ! the sugary-sweet kind ! stubborn and prideful reader, zero plot, just an excuse to write something cute ☻

prompt - ♞: Caring for each other while ill

A series of coughs burst forth, one after the other like a litany.

Your eyes fly open, cursing the coughing fit that tore you back to the waking world as you reach to the end table for your bottle of water.

It quells the tickle in your throat, but swallowing a gulp sends lances of pain along the surgical site.

You inhale sharply through your nose to keep from coughing from the pain this time. Seconds tick away until a minute passes, and you set your bottle down, certain that you’re okay for now.

The bottle nudges the humidifier on your nightstand. A steady stream of moisture floats in the air like it has been the past few days. Cutting a glance at your mirror on the wall, you notice it's fogged up, and you don’t doubt that your whole room is mistier than normal.

But it’s meant to help. Moisture and hydration, along with the pain pills will ease your recovery—not expedite it.

You sigh, lying back down on the stack of pillows. From the corners of your vision, the afternoon sunlight pours in through the window, reminding you that you’re inside confined to bedrest. This’ll be worth it when you’re better, you muse.

A light knock on the door grabs your attention. Too tired and unable to speak, the door opens on its own.

Utahime peeks through the crack, only to push her way in when she finds you awake. “Hey, heard you coughing, so I figured you were up.” She takes in your appearance.

You haven’t showered going on three days post-op and have been living in the same oversized shirt since. Because you’ve been laying around, you didn’t bother to run a brush through your hair. And during the last few days, you had next to nothing in your stomach. Tonsillectomies rule.

You barely had the chance to look at yourself except for when you go to the bathroom. The rest of the time you’re watching TV or asleep. Either way, you’re stuck in bed.

As far as your room goes, it was already a mess before you left for the hospital. By the time you made it back, it only got messier. Several empty plastic bottles piled in a box for recycling that you’ll get to when you recover, overflows onto the carpet of your room. Open, half-eaten cups of applesauce litter the nightstand and your dresser, joining the bottle of pain medicine you had within reach.

“Would you like more?” Utahime gestures to the applesauce.

On cue, your stomach groans, making your head spin from the lack of food. You had never been hungrier in your life, and yet each gulp of anything, mushy food or water is like swallowing glass.

You part your lips to speak but stop yourself, opting to shake your head instead.

Utahime nods. Your roommate means well, and you’re grateful for her checking on you.

Unfortunately, there’s little she can do. There’s little you can do other than ride it out. Three weeks you were told and warned that tonsillectomies were harder to bounce back from as an adult. It was just your luck that your tonsils suddenly gave you trouble when you hardly had issues as a child.

There’s an urgent knocking somewhere in the apartment, followed by a few dings of the doorbell.

Utahime checks over her shoulder, brows pinched together. “I’ll be back.” With the click of your door, she’s gone.

A minute passes and there’s an argument playing out in the living room.

You straighten to sit up, arching a brow.

Muffled voices rise, growing louder as they approach the other side of your door.

“Gojo, I didn’t say you can come inside—”

“I’m her boyfriend, I have every right to be in there with her, and if you don’t mind—”

Your bedroom door swings open with grandeur, your boyfriend and your roommates’ bickering flood inside.

“—I’m here to nurse her back to health.” Satoru hangs onto the door handle, motioning to close it.

Bless your roommate, Utahime, but the ire she holds against Satoru is next-level and shoves past him to demand his departure.

“She could have been sleeping, you idiot!”

Satoru waves her off, beaming at you. “She’s not, my girl has a sixth sense for me; she knows when I’m coming for her.”

You cringe at his words, even if they are well-meaning and incorrect. It is a regular occurrence for Satoru to drop by unannounced, you’re still shocked to see him here.

It had been a few days since your surgery, and you ensured Satoru that you would be okay. Utahime was kind enough to check in on you every once in a while.

Naturally, Satoru insisted that he come stay by your side, which led you and your roommate to persuade Suguru to keep him busy so that you could heal in peace.

Yet, here’s Satoru in the flesh, breaking that four-day streak.

“Get going, Gojo—”

Satoru spins around to glower at her. “Respectfully, Utahime, she’s got me to take care of her.”

Utahime flounders, another litany ready to spill out when her eyes flick over to you.

With a wave of your hand and an apologetic smile, you let her know that you’ll be okay, wishing that Satoru didn’t look so smug at your roommate like he’d won some victory.

But, of course to him it is a victory. “Told you.”

Utahime bites her tongue, stepping away until she begrudgingly leaves your room. Satoru is quick to shut the door and lock it behind him.

He turns around, doing a sweep of your bedroom and whistles. “Wow. Did a truck drive by?”

You level him with an annoyed scowl. If you had the ability to speak right now, he’d get another earful from you.

Satoru crosses the room, stopping at the end of your bed. He rocks back on his heels, hands behind his back.

You give him an expectant look.

Satoru smiles wide. “I got your favorite.” He reveals a carton of strawberry ice cream and two spoons. Because when it comes to sweets, Satoru believes in sharing.

You bend your knees under the covers to allow him space to sit.

He leans over, kissing the top of your head. “Still smell beautiful to me.”

Your face burns and you shove his shoulder, only for him to lasso you in with his arm. You’re too weak and mute to fight him off, accepting the shower of affection all over your face.

“These past four days have been the longest of my life. You know how much I missed you? Loads! Just picked this up. Still frozen. We’ll give it a few minutes to thaw out.”

He’s on his feet again, moving about the room like a gust of wind. He grabs your trash bin, tossing the applesauce cups and any other debris you’ve left around in the last few days.

Your eyes widen, trying to get his attention, but now he’s collecting the plastic bottles, picking the fallen ones off the carpet, and tossing them into a box. All while he laments how lonely it’s been without you around.

“Every time I was ready to head over, Suguru needed something. I don’t get it. Yeah, he’s my best friend, but he’s been so needy lately…”

He moves as fast as he talks that the room spins with his energy. You shuffle out of the blanket, clearing your throat.

Big mistake.

Another cacophony of coughs cut through your throat, and you scramble to the side in search of a bottle of water.

An arm is spread along your shoulders, Satoru offers you a new bottle, rubbing a hand along your back.

The water is sharp going down, but after a long gulp, it puts an end to the coughing fit.

A moment passes as you wait, expecting another tickle to rise in your throat.

“Better?” Satoru tilts his head.

Pursing your lips, you nod.

He gives you a bright smile, on his feet in a hurry. “To finish my thought…”

You don’t hear him, not because you don’t want to but because you’re back to watching him bustle around your room, resetting the space to how you normally keep it.

If he notices your attempt to get his attention, Satoru is slick about it, skating in circles as he gathers the last of your mess and opens the door.

He leaves the room, cutting his own rambling short and shuts the door.

Tension simmers in your chest, ears straining to catch any sound of another argument somewhere in the apartment.

Instead, silence is all you hear, a rarity that you associate with Satoru’s absence. But it’s brief. The door widens again with his return, already yammering on about something else.

And he’s also back to sorting your room again. You didn’t notice the glass cleaner and the paper towel roll he brought with him. He coats your mirror with the foam spray, talking a mile a minute, clearing the mist that’s built up and only pausing to grin at his own reflection.

“That’s better,” he says. “Now we can both see ourselves."

Now he’s across the room, spraying your window. After a few swipes, your room is brighter, stronger and the warmth distracts you for a moment. That is until Satoru’s at your nightstand, lifting up the humidifier.

“Whoa, this is empty already,” he muses.

You want to interrupt and ask what he’s doing even though you’re already aware. The better question is why. Sure, your room is in shambles, but that’s not something he needs to worry about. It’s not something anyone needs to be concerned with.

During the first few days of recovery, Utahime did offer to help tidy up the place, clear up the empty bottles and even do your laundry. Every time, you politely rejected her help, privy to the way your roommate would purse her lips like she wanted to say something.

You knew what she was thinking. The same as what Satoru had once expressed.

“You don’t have to do it all, you know? That’s what I’m here for.” It was always said with a bright, albeit overconfident smile.

“Sa…Toru…” His name scrapes harshly in your throat. “Satoru…”

In a flash, Satoru snaps his attention to you, eyes wide, setting the humidifier back down. “Whoa…don’t speak, you’ll hurt your throat.”

You pout, huffing through your nostrils. “You…don’t have to…” Your voice is so hoarse, you don't recognize yourself. Clearing your throat, your lips press tight as you wince. “My room…I’ll clean—”

Satoru presses his palm over your mouth. “Hey. Shhh. Don’t say anything.”

Forever obstinate, you pull away with a frown. “Satoru…”

He shakes his head. “Nuh-uh. Not going to listen if you don’t listen to me. It’s going to hurt if you keep trying to talk.”

You refuse to heed his advice, though your withering pride fails to ease the throbbing in your throat, voice cracking. “I’m fine. You…don’t need to…do anything.”

A humored sigh spills out of Satoru’s mouth. “You don’t need to do anything, other than stay in bed and let me take care of everything.”

Your lips part again to argue, and you’re already bracing yourself for the pain to follow when you speak.

Only your words melt away before they have a chance to form. Your mind blanks, heartbeat in your lips at the firm yet soft kiss.

You’re grateful that Satoru holds your face in his hands. The longer he kisses you, the harder it is to think let alone stay afloat, forgetting your train of thought.

His lips move along yours, gentle, minding that you’re still recovering and can only handle so much. However, you wish you can deepen the kiss, let him explore your mouth that you’re almost ready to endure the discomfort in your throat.

He smiles as you whimper from the loss of his lips. Instead, he levels you with a tender gaze, holding your attention with the calming blue.

“You’re so stubborn,” he murmurs, lacking any ill-feelings. “What am I going to do with you?”

Your face goes warm, looking up at him with a furrow in your brows. When you say nothing, Satoru fills the silence like he always does.

“I know you’re okay doing things on your own. No one doubts that. I just want to help. Won’t you let your charming, strong boyfriend spoil you, hm?” There’s the playful tease you’re familiar with. But his words are earnest, you know that.

He's right, you are stubborn. Too independent, oftentimes soldiering through everything, declining all assistance with a strained smile, never asking for help unless you had no choice.

It’s a mystery, even to you, why it’s so hard to receive help. Bedridden, mute, starving, yet for the past few days, your pride wouldn't accept a single helping hand.

But with Satoru here, stubborn in his own way, you realize how much better your spirits are now that you have his company again.

And when you relent with a nod, it warms your heart to see him beam, knowing that the feeling is mutual.

He kisses the crown of your head, spinning around to take the humidifier. “Be right back, I’ll have this thing filled, and the ice cream should be nice and soft to eat.”

As promised, he returns with the humidifier full. Satoru plops next to you with the carton of ice cream, blinking at the two spoons in his hand.

“Don’t know why I brought two, when we can always share one.” He wiggles his eyebrows, setting the extra spoon aside.

He lets you have the first scoop, the cold strawberry coats your throat, numbing the pain as the flavor revives your spirit.

Satoru leans closer, giving you a knowing look with his lips splitting apart.

You bring the second scoop to your lips to tease him.

He pouts. “After all I’ve done, that’s how it is?”

You smile, unable to resist feeding him a spoonful.

The ice cream is gone in minutes and the carton is tossed out. Taking stock of your room again, it’s like night and day since Satoru dropped by, tidy as though you hadn’t been wasting away for the last few days. You’re grateful for him. You take another pill to manage the discomfort. Satoru hands you your bottle of water, rubbing your back as you force a gulp down. "Another few days, and you'll be better soon."

But you're better now. The pain may flare up, though it's minimal compared to the company of your nurse—boyfriend who's just happy to be at your side.

Satoru settles on the bed, kissing your forehead. Long legs dig into your blanket, falling at his ankles as he gets comfortable. With one long arm wrapped around you, the other stretches to your nightstand for the remote.

He’s already scrolling through Netflix, making a comment about binging something together.

“What’re you in the mood to watch?” He scrolls endlessly at titles until he stops at your ‘continue watching’ list. “Oh, you’ve been watching Bridgerton! Already on season two? Well, I haven’t seen any of it yet, let’s start from the beginning.”

The show plays, Satoru rambles at something every few minutes (“Look at that dress she’s wearing. You’d look really good in it”). It’s a sudden contrast to the last few days you had, alone and miserable.

Satoru’s intentions are always good, golden even, and no matter how much you try to put on a front that you’re okay on your own and can heal fine in solitude (in peace), it’s an odd blessing that Satoru refused to leave you alone.

You snuggle closer to his side, hooking arm across his chest, and as always, he pulls you even closer. While your words remain lost, Satoru hears you through your silent gesture.

“I love you too.”

#gojo x reader #gojo satoru x reader #satoru x reader #satoru gojo x reader #jjk x reader #gojo x you #gojo saturo x you #gojo satoru #satoru gojo #jujutsu kaisen #jjk fanfiction #mochi-writings #gojo fluff

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lewmagoo · 2 months

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six summers | bob floyd

description: it's been six years. six years since you walked away from the man you loved. six years since the night that your own foolish actions led to the disappearance of sixteen-year-old melissa seresin. you’ve spent these last few years living with crippling guilt. and after everything that happened, the last thing you are expecting is an invite to return to the camp and reassume your role as counselor. but here you are, staring in disbelief at a letter asking you to do just that. providing you with the opportunity to make things right. will you be able to come to terms with the past and allow yourself to accept this second chance? or will you let your guilt consume you?

characters: bob floyd x reader, the dagger squad as their respective characters, pete mitchell, penny benjamin, a number of my own ocs

warnings: 18+ only, mentions of death, guilt, references to sex, mentions of anxiety

series status: ongoing

listen to the playlist here!

this story is inspired by @ryebecca and this fantastic moodboard she made ; i also drew some inspiration from riley sager's the last time i lied

*this is my own original work - i do not consent to having it reposted or redistributed in any way

July 30th, 1980

1:15 am

All you felt was terror. Icy cold, like someone had shoved their frigid fingers beneath your shirt, digits pressing harsh, angry bruises into the skin while they were at it. Your arms were wrapped around yourself as you stood in the damp morning air, your eyes flitting about nervously, your gut churning with nausea.

“You do realize that your negligence in this situation is going to come with consequences, right? How could you be so stupid?!” Penny Mitchell’s voice had a sharp edge to it, despite her lowered tone. Her eyes were piercing. You couldn’t look at her.

“Don’t try to pin this all on her. I’m just as much to blame.” That was Bobby’s voice, coming from beside you, an air of protectiveness emanating from him as he stepped closer, standing in solidarity with you.

“Oh, trust me, I’m holding you responsible, too. But she’s the one who was supposed to be in charge of that cabin. If she would have been at her post, this wouldn’t have happened. But no! The two of you were off doing God knows what, while one of our campers wandered off into the night!”

Penny got into your face, pointing her finger, her anger palpable, radiating off her in waves. “You had better pray that girl is still alive, because if she winds up dead, her blood is on your hands, counselor.”

May 18th, 1986

10:30 am

“Mail’s in!” The voice of your roommate carried through your apartment, pulling your attention from the rhythmic tapping of the antique typewriter you’d picked up from a yard sale. Without a second thought, you sprang from your chair, flinging open your bedroom door, bare feet quick against carpet as you hurried toward the kitchen, where Margie was just walking through the door with a stack of mail.

“Any of it addressed to me?” You asked, a hopeful inflection in your voice.

Margie nodded, tossing the envelopes onto the countertop. “Yeah, you’re popular, got two letters addressed to you.”

Eagerly, you shuffled through the stack before you located the letters she was talking about. One had no definitive markings, so you had no idea where it was from. But the other had a promising logo on the front– The Capital Gazette.

“The Gazette sent something back!” You exclaimed, flipping the envelope over, fingers trembling as you tore into the seal.

Margie gasped, her attention immediately zeroing in on the letter you held. “What did they say?!” She exclaimed, bouncing on the balls of her feet.

“Gimme a minute!” You shot back as you rushed to unfold the paper. Your eyes hurriedly scanned the contents, but within moments, your shoulders fell, the thrill of hope fading away to heavy disappointment. The words we regret to inform you were all you needed to read to know what the letter was about.

“I didn’t get the job,” came your glum statement.

“What?” Margie snatched the paper off the counter when you let it drop, reading it for herself. “Oh, come on! You’re the best damn writer I know, how could they turn you down?!”

You shook your head, fighting the tears of disappointment that had gathered on your lash line. “They don’t need me. They’ve got better writers.”

“That’s bullshit!” She huffed, shaking her head, knocking some of her unkempt curls loose from her haphazard ponytail.

“Whatever,” you said, bitterly. “There are other newspapers I can apply to. Other magazines. People are hiring all over the place,” you said, hoping to instill hope in your own heart. But it did little to lift your spirits.

Your roommate sighed softly, reaching out to squeeze your shoulder. “I’m sorry. Really.”

“Thanks, Mar. So am I.”

Her attention shifted to the other, unopened letter on the counter. “What’s that one say?”

With a clueless shrug, you reached for it. All it bore was your address in handwriting that was oddly familiar. Tentatively, you tore into the envelope, brows furrowed as you unfolded the paper and began to read.

And then, “holy shit.”

“What is it?” Margie demanded, curious. When you looked at her, she noticed the expression of worry etched into your brow.

“Camp Mitchell,” you whispered.

At that, the woman’s eyes went wide. “Oh my God.” And then, she waved her hand, motioning you on. “What does it say?”

“They…they want me to come back as a counselor.”

I hope this letter finds you well. I am reaching out to you because I wanted to extend a formal invitation to return to camp as a counselor this summer. I know that things ended on a sour note for all of us involved, but Pete and I desire to breathe new life into this camp. We want to give other campers the chance to experience the wonder and magic of summertime at Camp Mitchell. I understand if you would prefer not to return, but it would be an honor to have you back with us again. Think we can agree to let bygones be bygones? I sure do hope so. Please give me a call at the number below and let me know if you would like to return and reassume your role as a camp counselor. Arrival deadline for counselors is May 24th. Hope to see you soon!

Best wishes,

Penny Mitchell

You stared at the words in absolute shock. They wanted you to come back? After everything that had happened? After your own foolishness had resulted in a girl going missing? You had to admit, it was a bold move on Penny’s part.

The police had heavily investigated you when young Melissa Seresin went missing six years prior. Penny had even blamed you for the girl’s disappearance. It was hard to imagine her wanting you to come anywhere near her camp ever again.

“I need to sit down,” you muttered, tossing the letter back onto the counter and stepping toward the kitchen table, where you hurriedly pulled out one of the chairs and lowered yourself into the seat. Two life-altering events had just taken place in the span of five minutes. You needed to process all of it.

As you tried to regain your wits, Margie scanned over the letter. Then, she sauntered over to you, letting out a sigh as she pulled out the chair across from you and flopped down into it, her legs parted, arms falling down to dangle over the sides. She blew a pesky curl away from her face.

Sympathetic brown eyes landed upon you, and the girl before you smiled softly. Understandingly. “What are you gonna do?”

“I really don’t know,” you said. “Since the job with The Gazette fell through…I might have no choice but to take up the offer to go back to camp. At least I’d be making some kind of income during the summer while I try to figure things out.”

Margie raised a dark brow. “Listen, you do what you think is best for you. But…after everything that happened there, are you sure you’re ready to go back? It’s only been six years.” She was not coming from a place of judgment. She was coming from a place of genuine concern for her friend.

You groaned softly, placing your head in your hands. “I dunno know what to do. Honestly, I’m not ready. But then again it might give me closure. And maybe that’s what Penny is thinking. If she wants to make things right with me after the way things ended…maybe I should go.”

The girl sighed. “Yeah, I guess closure might be something that comes outta this. I just don’t want you to have to go through all that shit again, though.”

Your mouth quirked into a grateful smile. “I know, Mar. I’ve gotta think about it, first. I’m not making any decisions yet.”

“Well, let me know what you decide. Whatever choice you make, I’ll support you.”

“Thanks. I appreciate it.”

As Margie left you at the table to be alone with your thoughts, you considered the weight of the situation. It had all happened so fast, and you felt as if you were caught up in a whirlwind. You only had a week to make a decision, because you had to be at camp on the 24th if you decided to go.

Were you ready to go back, after only six short years? The thought made your stomach turn. Camp Mitchell was a place that held a lot of trauma for you. Your life had fallen apart there.

You had been a first-year counselor in the summer of 1980. A job meant to get you through the summer, before you returned to college in the fall. You remembered being so hopeful and excited about what the summer held.

Camp Mitchell was a camp situated in Michigan’s wilderness. Secluded, surrounded by forests as far as the eye could see. Quaint little wooden cabins. A mess hall. A volleyball pit. A lake. All the other amenities that a typical summer camp would have.

You were put in charge of the junior/senior girls' cabin. Eleventh and twelfth graders. You were slightly intimidated because you were only a few years older than they were. You worried that they would not respect you. But much to your relief, the girls accepted you with open arms.

Throughout the many weeks of camp, you bonded with several different girls who passed through your cabin. But none of them connected as well with you as Melissa Seresin.

July 1980

She was the younger sister of one of the other counselors, Jake Seresin, and she was sweet as could be. She attended camp most of the summer, because her brother worked there, and she didn’t want to remain stuck at home alone while her parents traveled for the summer.

So, she tagged along with Jake. Unlike her brother, she was not cocky. She had a very kindhearted demeanor. A little spoiled, once in a while, due to being the youngest and only girl of rich parents and a doting older brother, but nothing you couldn’t tolerate.

Melissa remained a semi-permanent fixture in your cabin, even as groups of girls from different places — schools, church youth groups, family groups, so on and so forth — passed through all summer.

She knew the camp like the back of her hand, and had spent a few summers there already. You didn’t have to worry about her like you might other campers, because she was well aware of the camp’s procedures.

That was why it was so jarring when, one night in the middle of the summer, she disappeared without a trace.

Late one night, after lights out, the girls in your cabin noticed her absence. Melissa was always in bed come lights out. Not always asleep, but certainly always present. Her neatly made, unoccupied bed raised suspicions, but it was her missing backpack that made the girls think that she had left altogether.

You were not at your post like you were supposed to be. Earlier that night, you had enforced lights out, but soon after had slipped out into the night to meet someone. The girls ranged from fifteen to eighteen years old, so you were not particularly concerned about them getting up to mischief. But in your haste to leave, you neglected to double-check that Melissa was present.

To your utter shame, you had left to meet up with another counselor. The head counselor of the seventh and eighth-grade boys' cabin, Robert Floyd. Bob to his friends. Mr. Bob to the campers. Bobby to you, and only you.

It wasn’t in your nature to sneak around. Neither was it in Bob’s. But you had gotten tangled up in an impassioned summer fling, and you took advantage of every free moment you had to be together.

It was in that time span of you and Bob sneaking off to the lake, that Melissa had gone missing. And when you returned to the cabin an hour later, the girls were all awake, in a slight state of upheaval.

“Where have you been?!” Asked Claudia, one of the senior girls. “I was about to leave and go find Mrs. Mitchell!”

“I needed some air. Why, what’s up?” You cautiously asked.

Claudia motioned to Melissa’s empty bed. “Melissa never made it in for lights out.”

You stared at the bed, its covers untouched and meticulously tucked in, as a hotel bed would be. That was the way she made it every morning. She hadn’t been in that bed since last night. “No, she was here when I left!” You insisted.

“Um, no she wasn’t,” Marissa, another senior, piped up. “Plus, her backpack is gone.”

“Oh, God. Well, that’s my bad for sure. Okay, um, I’m sure she can’t have gotten far. She knows this camp well. Don’t worry, I’ll go take a look around. The rest of you, stay put. Lemme just do a count to make sure nobody else went off with her.”

After a headcount, you came up with fourteen girls. Melissa would make fifteen, so she was the only one missing. Huffing out a sigh, and attempting to keep yourself calm and neutral so the girls wouldn’t panic, you squared your shoulders.

“I’ll go grab another counselor and we’ll take a look. Claudia, you’re the oldest, so you’re in charge. Make sure no one leaves. The rest of you, try to get some sleep. I know you’re a little freaked right now but it’s gonna be okay.” The biggest lie you could have told them. It was, in fact, not going to be okay.

“What should we do if she comes back?” Claudia asked, running a nervous hand through her thick brunette locks. Her dark eyes were fearful, although she was trying to appear brave, just as you were trying to do.

“Just make sure she stays put. I’ll come back and check in a bit, if I don’t find her, and we can touch base then.”

Once you were certain the girls understood the plan, you excused yourself again, stepping out into the humid July night. Crickets sang as you ambled down the path that led to the boys’ cabins, but the pounding of your heart in your ears drowned out the sound.

Your hands shook, unsteady as you held your flashlight before you. Tears blurred your vision, and the heat of embarrassment washed over you. How could you be so stupid? Here you were, off getting laid while one of your girls was nowhere to be found.

You had to look for her, but you weren’t going to do it alone. Hurriedly, you ascended the steps of cabin 13, the first of the boys’ cabins. Light on your feet, so as not to step on any squeaky boards, you crept closer to the door.

Three soft raps, five seconds apart. That was your code. And sure enough, within moments, the door inched open, and there was your Bobby. You had just seen him twenty minutes prior, but he’d already changed into his sleep clothes. An old camp shirt and basketball shorts.

Brow furrowed, he quietly closed the door behind him, stepping out onto the porch. You reached for his hand and guided him off the porch, onto the soft, sandy ground. “What’s goin’ on, Kit?” He asked. The nickname he’d dubbed you for reasons so much more lighthearted than the situation you were facing.

“Melissa’s gone,” you whispered. “The girls said she was never there for lights out.”

“Huh? But you checked on them before you left.”

“I did, but I…I guess I just missed Melissa. I thought she was there, but tonight was so chaotic…God, I can’t believe I could be so stupid” You despaired.

“Shh,” Bob soothed, reaching out to run comforting hands down your arms. “Hey, she probably just went for a walk. I’m not close to her, but I know she likes to go and write in that journal of hers a lot. She’s probably doing that.”

“But that’s not like her. Yeah, she writes in her diary but she’s never done this before. Just…up and left like that. I’m scared, Bobby. I think something might’ve happened to her. And it’s all my fault.”

But he was already shaking his head. “No, don’t even let your mind go there. You’ll drive yourself crazy.” His hands had moved to cup your cheeks. “Tell you what, I’ll help you look for her. If we don’t find her in the next hour, we can tell Penny and get a search party goin’.”

You prayed it wouldn’t come to that, but the sick feeling in your gut told you otherwise. It was your fault, no matter how much Bobby tried to assure you it wasn’t. If Melissa was truly missing, then you were the one to blame. But you didn’t dare speak it into the air. You couldn’t.

“O-okay. We can look together, then.”

And so, the two of you set off on the search for Melissa Seresin. Missy, as her brother liked to call her. You thought of Jake, who was in charge of the senior boys’ cabin. You knew he’d be pissed that you didn’t wake him up immediately and tell him what was going on. He was very protective of his baby sister. But you didn’t want to involve him just yet. You had to try to find her yourself, first.

You set out to search all the places she frequented. Melissa wasn’t as outgoing as her brother. She had a vibrant personality, but also had introverted tendencies. She cherished her alone time, so it wasn’t odd for her to be at the lake, or the horse stables, writing. But she was always visible, and she had never sneaked off before. And certainly not after dark, either.

These woods were terrifying at night. It was easy to get lost in their vastness. Even a girl who knew her way around could get lost. But you prayed that wasn’t the case.

You took to searching her usual hangout spots. The lake, even though you and Bob had been there a half hour ago, and hadn’t seen her. Sure enough, she wasn’t there. Then, you took a peek in the horse stables. The camp had not yet obtained horses to occupy the stables, so it was just an empty building.

Hopeful, you followed Bob inside, holding your breath as he called out, “Melissa? You in here, honey? It’s Bob Floyd.”

But you were met with dead silence, so deafening it brought a shiver down your spine. “Oh, my God. She’s gone. She’s gone forever. This is all my fault!” You panicked, burying your face in your hands.

Bobby, ever the calm and steady one, gently soothed you. “Hey. Hey! Look at me.”

You lifted your tearful eyes to his face, illuminated by the yellow glow of your flashlight.

“It’s gon’ be okay, alright? We’ll find her. We just need to go get Penny and Pete and tell ‘em what happened. We can get a search party organized. We’ll cover more ground that way.”

Lovingly, he took your hand, and together, you made the trek back toward the main part of camp, where the office, mess hall, and staff quarters were. The entire walk, your mind was spiraling with all the possibilities of what could have happened to Melissa.

Something was wrong. You knew it.

And, as it would turn out, you were, unfortunately, right. Melissa Seresin never was found. Not when you and the other counselors organized a search party. Not when the police got involved. Not when Jake and Melissa’s dad, an agent in the FBI, got his team involved. It was as if she’d vanished into thin air. Gone without a trace.

Jake blamed you. But that was okay, because you blamed yourself, too.

Your own negligence was the reason Melissa was gone. And the police grilled you for it. Much to your utter relief, the Seresins chose not to press charges. But you were left to live with the guilt, and that was punishment enough.

And now, here you were. Six years later. Wounds from the past only partially healed. Presented with an opportunity to go back to the place where it all started, and ended. If you did return, would those wounds reopen, and drain the blood from your veins? Or would those wounds finally heal?

And most importantly, did you have the guts to find out?

One Week Later

A ticket reading Harper, Michigan was clutched tightly in your hand, the paper rumpling from your grip. Your suitcase and duffel bag were beside you, as you stood at the bus depot, waiting for the Greyhound to pull up and take you to your destination.

“I still think you’re crazy for this,” Margie spoke from beside you. She’d come to see you off.

You turned to her, taking in her soft smile, despite her disapproval of your choice. “I know,” you replied.

“But I also understand why you want to do this. I really hope it gives you the closure you’re looking for.”

You threw your arms around your friend’s shoulders, hugging her tight. “Thanks, Mar. I’ll try to give you a call at some point in the next few weeks, but the only phone on the property is the one in the main office and I doubt I’ll have time.”

“Don’t worry about it. You can tell me all about it when you get back,” she assured you.

You took one last good look at her, as you knew you wouldn’t see her for a few months, if you fulfilled your commitment to work the entire camp season. The late morning sun shone down from the sky, illuminating her dark curls. Always so unkempt, but the style suited her.

“I’ll be seeing ya,” you finally said.

She nodded, squeezing your hand. “Take care of yourself. And good luck.”

The bus pulled into the stop as you bid your final goodbyes, and then, you handed off your luggage to the attendant to pack away beneath the bus before you climbed the steps into the large vehicle, flashing your ticket to the driver. You took a seat toward the back, settling in and placing your purse beside you, hoping that you would get two of the tackily upholstered seats all to yourself.

As soon as you were settled, you fished your Walkman out of your bag, unraveling the headphones and placing them on your head. As soon as you hit play, the opening sound of the 1975 Eagles album, One of These Nights, filled your ears.

You had purposely chosen this tape to accompany you on your trip, because it held a lot of nostalgic memories for you. Namely, it had been a gift from your Bobby. He’d given it to you in the beginning stages of your romance, after you’d expressed to him that the album was one of your favorites.

“I want you to have it,” he insisted. “A memento that you can have all the time, to remind you of what a great time we had together here.”

And you did have a great time. But the trauma of Melissa’s disappearance had soured the whole thing. All you had left of Bobby was this tape, and a few braided jute bracelets he had made you, from plant fibers. You still wore them on your wrist to this day.

He had tried to keep in contact with you after the camp shut down. He’d sent letters. Called your home phone. But you never answered. As much as you loved him, the reminder of what had happened was too painful, and you let your connection to him fizzle out.

But as you listened to the familiar cords, a rush of memories flooded you, the wave so intense that it took your breath away. Flashes of Bob’s beautiful face. Twinkling eyes, blushing cheeks, a crinkled button nose. The prettiest laughter you’d ever heard.

Large, warm hands exploring. Lips trailing searing kisses down your sternum. Whispers of your name. Groans of pl–

With a gasp, you snatched the headphones off your head, eyes flickering about, as if someone around you could have heard your thoughts. But everyone else was in their own little world, completely oblivious to the salacious flashbacks you had just experienced.

But they made you warm with shame nonetheless.

You’d be foolish not to admit that you’d thought of Bobby over the years. Looked back on your encounters with fondness. With desire. You’d been sexually involved with a few other people since then, but the entire time, you could only think of him. It was why you’d stopped seeing other people. They weren’t your Bobby.

You wondered if he thought about you, too.

More importantly, you wondered if he’d be returning to Camp Mitchell like you were. Were you ready to face him again? The thought made your stomach flutter with butterflies.

You imagined he’d moved on. He had to. Hell, he probably had a wife and kids already. Imagining such a thing sent a queasy rush through you. You still weren’t over him, and you supposed you never would be. He was your first great love.

But he wasn’t the only person you would potentially face from your past.

Your mind went to the other counselors you’d worked with that fateful summer. Specifically, you thought of Jake Seresin. Surely he wouldn’t return to camp, right? Not after his baby sister had disappeared from that very place. It had to be too painful for him.

Little did you know, everyone you had worked with was also traveling from their own respective homes and cities, headed right for Camp Mitchell, just like you were.

The camp was founded by Pete and Penny Mitchell, a husband and wife duo. They had started it with the best of intentions. It was in its fifth successful year when you came on staff. And that just so happened to be the last year it was in operation.

Until now.

What had made the couple decide it was a good idea to reopen the camp, you had no idea. But you were going to give it a chance. Maybe it wouldn’t be so bad, after all.

But several hours later, as the Greyhound pulled into the station in Harper, a tiny town boasting of a general store, a bus depot, and a long, winding road that led up to the camp itself.

As you stepped off the bus, you realized one very important detail: you had no idea how you were even getting up to the camp. Would they send a driver down to retrieve everyone?

Your question was soon answered when you caught sight of a large white poster board propped against a nearby lamppost. CAMP MITCHELL STAFF WAIT HERE. A DRIVER WILL ESCORT YOU TO CAMP.

With a sigh, you rolled your suitcase over to the post, hoping you wouldn’t have to wait long. And you didn’t. About five minutes later, an old teal-colored truck came down the road, its engine obnoxiously loud. On the side, Camp Mitchell was printed in bold letters.

You straightened, smoothing out your travel-rumpled clothes as you grabbed your belongings, prepared to help load everything into the truck. It didn’t even occur to you that you might know the driver. You expected to meet someone entirely new.

As soon as the vehicle pulled to a stop at the curb, you were already moving to the truck bed, hoisting your duffel bag over the side, letting it land with a satisfying thump.

“Here, let me,” a familiar voice spoke up, and in moments, a pair of hands were stealing your suitcase away, heaving it into the bed.

You looked up at the man assisting you, and your blood ran cold. As he turned from putting your luggage in place, he froze, too. Wide blue eyes, no longer hidden beneath a pair of wireframes, locked with your own.

You didn’t speak. You couldn’t.

But he did. In a voice as smooth and soft as butter, yet breathless with surprise. “Kit?”

You squeezed your eyes shut.

Kit. The nickname he’d dubbed you six years ago. It was something so simple. So silly. You’d had an affinity for KitKat bars that summer. They were the only candy bars you liked from the camp store. As a joke, Bobby had said “I should call you KitKat, since you like those things so much.”

And thus, it was shortened to Kit. The name stuck.

Hearing it again made your head spin. You felt woozy on your feet. You swayed a little. A memory flashed in your mind. You and him. Sitting under the old weeping willow. His fingertips wiping chocolate from the corner of your mouth.

It sent a burning ache through your chest.

“Oh my God,” you whispered. “B-Bobby.” The first words you’d spoken to him in six years.

He let out a breath, shaking his head in disbelief. “I didn’t think you’d show.”

You gathered yourself, trying to regain your composure. “I didn’t either,” you whispered.

He offered a tentative smile. “That doesn’t mean I’m not happy to see you, though.”

You lifted your head, brow furrowed in confusion. “You are?”

“Gosh, I am. It’s been too long. I didn’t…didn’t know what happened to you. You never responded to my calls or letters. I thought maybe…” He wouldn’t speak it out loud. He couldn’t.

But you inferred what he meant from his tone. He’d feared that the trauma of what had happened had been too much for you to handle. That you’d succumbed to it all.

“I was working on myself. Trying to heal.”

He nodded. “Understandable.” The corners of his eyes crinkled as he smiled again. “I really am glad to see you, though. You look well.”

You shrugged. “I’m workin’ on it. And I’m glad to see you too.”

You looked at him, really looked at him, and you realized how much he’d changed, but also stayed the same. He’d filled out. His shoulders were more broad. Muscular. His glasses were gone, presumably replaced with contacts. His hair, once close-cropped, was longer now, curling at the nape of his neck, peeking out from beneath the baseball cap he wore. His jaw was shadowed with stubble.

He looked like a man.

But there was still that boyish glint in his eyes, and hiding behind his smile. Still that same gentleness reserved particularly for you. It was overwhelming, and you could feel your chest beginning to tighten.

“Are you, uh, are you ready to head up there? Or do ya need a minute?” Bobby asked, his voice low. Laced with concern.

You stepped back. “I thought I could do this. Maybe I can’t.”

He let you have your space. “Take all the time you need.”

The rush of memories flooding you was overwhelming. The last time you saw him. The last thing you said to him.

Six Years Ago

The day you left camp, it was raining. Pouring from the sky in sheets, washing everything in a gray hue that made the world look like a watercolor painting.

The sandy ground squashed beneath your feet as you walked toward that old truck, with the camp’s logo on the side. Your luggage was stuffed into the truck bed, wrapped in plastic garbage bags so it wouldn’t get wet in the downpour.

As you climbed into the cab, Bobby came running out of the main office, making a beeline for the truck. He scrambled to wrench open the door and join you inside, breathing labored as he settled into the seat.

For a few moments, it was silent, save for the sound of him moving to start the engine. He fiddled with the heat dial, hoping to reduce the fog on the windows, as the rain had made the air unseasonably chilly that morning.

You both sat there, staring out the windshield, watching the water trickle down the glass. He made no move to put the truck in gear.

“I’m sorry,” he murmured.

“Bobby—”

“No, listen to me. I’m sorry it came to this. It shouldn’t have.”

“What’s done is done. Please, let’s just get out of here. I can’t stay in this place another minute.”

Bobby lingered for a moment, his eyes on you, even as you refused to look at him. You were afraid that if you did, you’d melt into a fit of tears. So, with a soft sigh, he put the truck in drive, and began the journey down the winding dirt road that led out of camp.

The trip was silent. You had nothing left to say, because you’d exhausted all your words these last few weeks. Countless hours of interrogation. Recounting that night over and over again. The conclusion was that a girl was missing, and it likely would not have happened if you’d been doing your job. That was a sense of guilt that you would have to live with for the rest of your life.

Bob pulled into the bus station fifteen minutes later, and you didn’t hesitate as you hurried to slide out of your seat, shoes colliding with wet asphalt. Your chest was tight, eyes blurring with tears as you rushed to grab your luggage.

“Would ya stop for a minute?!” Bobby exclaimed, reaching out to gently grab at your arm.

But you jerked away from him. “Please, don’t…don’t make this harder than it is,” you whispered.

He stared at you, brilliant blue eyes wide, filled with emotion. “So, what, you won’t even say goodbye?”

You feared that saying goodbye would break the dam, and you wouldn’t be able to hold yourself together. You’d fall into his arms, sobbing your heart out, and you would never get on that bus. The man before you sighed, shaking his head before he moved to haul your suitcase out of the truck, placing the plastic-covered bag on the sidewalk.

“That’s it then?” He spoke, his tone grim.

Squaring your shoulders, you nodded, forcing yourself to hold it together. “Goodbye, Robert.”

You turned to leave, and he watched you go, his heart falling to pieces within him. He was losing you, perhaps forever, and there was nothing he could do to stop it. He wanted to go after you. Wanted to shake you and tell you to just listen. But you were so entrenched in the trauma of what had happened that he wasn’t sure you could listen to reason at all.

So he let you leave. He watched you climb onto that Greyhound, bound for home, all while he was left there with a wound in his heart, wishing that things could have ended differently. Wishing that your love for each other had been enough to keep you with him.

But it wasn’t enough. He wasn’t enough. And that was something he had to live with.

May 1986

Seeing you again was a lot for him. You were just as beautiful as he remembered. Even more so, now, if that was possible. He was also hit with a rush of emotions. He never thought he’d see you again. When he’d received the letter from Penny, inviting him back to camp, he had thought about you, and was sure you wouldn’t come back.

But here you were, standing before him, uncertain and anxious, and he found himself wanting nothing more than to pull you into his arms and comfort you. But he kept his distance, not wanting to invade your personal space. You weren’t his any longer. He could not touch you the way he used to.

You took a moment to pull yourself together, taking a deep breath, counting to ten, trying to ground yourself. Then, you fixed your posture, and nodded in Bob’s direction. “Alright. I think…I think I’m okay. We can, um, we can leave if you’re ready.”

“Okay. Let’s go then.” He opened the passenger door for you, and you climbed into that old truck once again, just as you had six years ago.

Everything had come full circle.

Bobby rounded the truck and settled into the driver’s seat, and soon, he’d started the engine, pulling away from the curb, turning onto the road that led up to camp. Your gut churned with anxiety. You were really doing this. There was no turning back now.

The radio played softly as Bob drove. Some old country song. Hank Williams, you thought. Its grainy, peaceful tune did well to calm your anxiety. Your hands had stopped trembling.

“It’s been a while,” the man beside you murmured. His accent seemed to have gotten thicker, a slight twang to it.

“I know,” you replied, staring down at your lap. Then, “God, I’m so sorry, Bobby. I shouldn’t have gone no contact like I did. I got the letters you sent. And I got every message you left on my answering machine. But I just…I couldn’t bring myself to respond.”

He shook his head. “No, I get it. I should’ve given you more space. I know everything that happened was a lot for you.”

“But that’s no excuse for me to just ignore you. It wasn’t right of me. I’m really sorry.”

“Apology accepted. It’s in the past, Kit. We can leave it there.”

It was that easy. A soothing sense of relief washed over you, warming you from head to toe. That exchange made you feel a little more at ease, and the conversation soon shifted.

“Did everyone come back this year?”

He nodded, humming lowly. “Most of ‘em, surprisingly. Bradley, Natasha, Mickey, Reuben, Javy. Half got here last night. The rest came earlier this mornin’.”

You hesitated, picking at a jagged nail on your right hand. “And…Jake?”

Bob was silent for a moment, his jaw tightening. “Yeah, him too.”

You recoiled in confusion. “But…why would he come back?”

“Penny didn’t say it in her letter, but they’re doing a dedication ceremony for Melissa. There’s a new garden area they installed in the main part of camp. It’s gonna be called Melissa Jo’s Garden. They had a plaque made and everything. Jake agreed to come for the ceremony. I dunno if he’s staying all summer though.”

“Oh.” It felt like all the oxygen had been sucked from your lungs. You had not left things on a good note with Jake. He harbored deep resentment toward you for neglecting to watch over your cabin. He blamed you for his sister’s disappearance.

“He seems to be handling everything alright. He might actually be okay with seeing you again.”

But you weren’t so sure. There was that nervousness again, roiling in your gut. Did you have the nerve to face him? And how would he react? You doubted he’d welcome you back with open arms.

You’d soon find out, because just up ahead, the Camp Mitchell sign could be seen. Large, deep green in color, with white lettering. So familiar, yet so foreign all at once.

You couldn’t believe you were back. What if this turned out to be the most foolish decision you’d ever made?

You didn’t have time to consider that, because Bobby was pulling into the common area in no time, and killing the engine. It was time to face the past you’d been running like hell to get away from.

As Bob got out to gather your luggage, you pushed the old, squeaky passenger door open and let your feet land in the soft sand.

The scent of pine and honeysuckle filled your nose. It sent an intense wave of nostalgia through you. So much had changed, and yet nothing had, all at the same time.

The layout was still the same. Clinic. Main office. Mess hall. Common area. But in the middle of the main entrance was a small garden. Stone paths weaved throughout. Spindly bushes, multicolored flowers, and other plants decorated the soil. Right in the middle of the garden was what appeared to be a large stone, covered with a tarp. You assumed the plaque for Melissa was hidden beneath the tarp.

And then, a voice caught your attention. You looked up to find Penny Mitchell approaching you. Blue cotton shorts, accessorized with a belt. A blue and white striped t-shirt tucked into them. A pair of hiking boots were on her feet. Practical, that one was. Always ready for an outdoor excursion at a moment’s notice.

You braced yourself, unsure of how she would behave toward you. She had rightfully held you responsible for Melissa’s disappearance, and you weren’t sure if she’d moved on from that. But, if she’d invited you back, she had to have at least found it in her heart to forgive you. You hoped so, anyway.

“Welcome!” She said, sweeping her arms out in greeting. “I’m glad you could make it!”

“Oh, um, thanks. Me…me too,” you said, unsure of the proper response.

Bobby sidled up beside you. You didn’t feel so alone with him there.

“Did Bob fill you in on everything on the drive up?”

“Kinda, yeah,” came your answer.

Penny nodded. “Once everyone is settled, Pete and I will take you on a tour. We’ve made a lot of changes these last few months.” Then she looked at Bob. “Would you show her to her cabin? We’ll put her in cabin five.”

“Sure thing,” he replied.

“We’ll have a little orientation meeting after dinner. There’s a whole itinerary we have to go over. I put a schedule in your cabin. Any questions?”

Yeah, lots. You stared at her for a moment. “Why?”

“Why what?”

“Why did you invite me back? After everything that happened?”

She regarded you silently, her expression neutral. Then, she said, “Because I believe in second chances. Or, rather, my husband does. He wanted to bring all of you back and start with a clean slate. Whether or not you’ve earned that second chance remains to be seen. But I hope you have.” Her words sent a painful ache through your chest. You didn’t blame her for being wary of you, but it still hurt.

As she excused herself, you were once again left alone with Bobby. “Y’alright?” He gently asked, cadence low and comforting.

You processed his words for a moment. “Yeah…yeah. I’m okay.”

“You need a minute?”

“No. Let’s just get my stuff to my cabin.”

With a single nod, he grabbed your suitcase and duffel bag, moving to walk up the hill. You followed closely behind, letting the rush of memories ebb through you. The cabins were small, build from dark wood, with green paint detailing the shutters and doors. They looked like they’d received fresh coats of paint, but otherwise, everything was still the same.

It didn’t take long to reach cabin five. Bob carried your things inside, and you slowly followed, your heart quickening as you stepped through the door. The scent of cedar and pine was familiar and painful all at once.

This wasn’t the cabin you’d been in when you were here last. You were in cabin two then, just one over from this one. Even so, it looked so eerily similar that for a moment, you were transported back to the summer of 1980.

Funnily enough, Bob had been the one to show you to your cabin for the first time that year, too.

“You’ve still got ‘em.”

Your eyes flickered to him, and your brow furrowed. “Huh?”

“The bracelets I made you.”

Oh. You looked down, eyeing your wrist, where the two braided jute bracelets remained, from when he’d made them for you that year. Dyed faintly with berry juice. Fraying at the edges, but still intact. “Um, yeah…I do. Guess I just could never bring myself to take them off.”

He stepped forward, reaching his hand out. You let him gingerly take your wrist into his palm. His fingers brushed against the braided rope, and his touch sent goosebumps across your skin. “After all these years,” he whispered, afraid that if he spoke any louder, his voice would fail him.

All at once, you were floored with an intense wave of emotion, so powerful it nearly drove you to your knees. It hit you out of nowhere, like a gut punch. “Bobby,” you whimpered.

Shocking blue flickered to meet your wide-eyed gaze, and his face crumpled, bottom lip quivering. “Kit.”

You weren’t sure who moved first, but you were in each other’s arms then, holding on tightly, as if the other would float away if you loosened your grip. The sound of soft sobs reached your ears, and you realized that they were coming from you.

“I never should have walked away from you. Never, ever!” You cried against his chest. “I’m sorry!”

“No, shhh,” he soothed, cradling your head against him. “Don’t do this to yourself. It’s okay, you’re forgiven.”

You pulled back to look at him, shaking your head. “It’s not okay!”

Two large hands came up to hold your face. “It hurt me, alright? I’ll admit that. Broke my heart in two. But I never held it against you, because…because I knew everything you’d been through. I know that summer was the worst time of your life. It made sense to me if you didn’t want to speak to me ever again. I would’ve just been a reminder of everything that happened.”

“But I did want to talk to you, Bobby. I did. I just couldn’t get past the goddamn trauma.”

He shook his head, his face kind. “I know. But we’re here now, together. That’s gotta count for something.” Maybe we’ve been given a second chance, he wanted to say, but he didn’t want to move too fast. He was well aware that your romance might never be rekindled. However, he was content to just remain friends with you if it meant that you would be in his life again.

You went quiet, letting your head fall against his chest again. You couldn’t believe you were here, standing in the middle of a cabin at the place where you had lost everything. It felt so surreal. It was as if a million years had passed since you saw him here last, and yet, it also felt like no time had passed at all.

There was so much that needed to be discussed. But there was no hurry. For now, you were just relieved to know that you had not burned a bridge with your first great love. If nothing else went right for you this summer, he was the one good thing that would come out of it.

“I’m glad…I’m glad it was you who picked me up at the station,” you admitted.

Bobby smiled softly. “So am I.” He searched your face, as if memorizing it. “I really thought I wouldn’t ever see you again.”

You hummed in agreement. “Me too. But I guess fate wanted us to meet again.”

“She’s a tricky one, that Fate.”

“Don’t I know it.”

Finally, he parted from you, though the absence of his body made yours feel cold. He didn’t want to overstep. “Well…I guess I’ll let you get settled.” He moved toward the door, but your voice gave him pause.

“Actually, wait for me. I don’t want to face everyone alone. I’d prefer it if we walked together.” Bobby might be the only person in this damn place to accept you again. You wanted to cling to that, and the security it provided.

He gave a single nod. “Alright. You want any help getting settled, then?”

Together, you set about getting everything situated. Bob went around and checked the cabin for spiders, because he knew you weren’t a fan of the little (and sometimes big) guys. He found one, which he very gently coaxed into his hand (murmuring “c’mon, little buddy” as he did) and released it outside.

Once you had your stuff organized, and did a quick clean sweep of the cabin, you were ready to join everyone else. There was a paper posted on the wall just beside the door, detailing the itinerary for counselors and other camp staff. In about fifteen minutes, dinner would be served in the mess hall.

Directly following that, there would be an orientation meeting in the meeting hall, a place where staff meetings usually took place. Assemblies with the campers were also held there. It ws in that hall that you would be forced to face people from your past. Namely, you’d have to face Jake again.

The thought made your stomach churn, and your hands tremble. But then, Bob’s gentle presence brought you back to the presence, and your racing heart calmed down a little.

He offered you a kind smile. “You ready?”

“Yeah,” you said with a nod.

Together, you walked out of that cabin and into the camp grounds, falling into silence as your steps synced up. There were so many things Bobby wanted to say, but he didn’t want to inundate you with questions and confessions, so he left it. He knew you had to be terribly overwhelmed as it was. He didn’t want to be the cause of more stress.

So, silence it was, all the way until you got to the mess hall. He stopped to open the door for you, and you hesitated.

“It’s okay,” he assured you. “I’ll be right here with you the whole time.”

You liked the sound of that.

So, with a deep breath and squared shoulders, you stepped through that door, entering the room. Dark wood stretched out before you. The mess hall was a similar design to the cabins, just much bigger. High ceilings with unfinished wooden beams. Wooden floors and walls. Dark green paint detailing. Windows on each wall to let in natural light. A large stone fireplace in the middle of the room.

It was very cozy, but as your gaze shifted to the table of faces to your left, you felt a chill run over you. Here goes nothing.

You appraoched the table, taking in each person seated there. At the head of the table was Pete Mitchell, Penny’s husband. He lifted his head and offered a smile, but you couldn’t quite place the look in his eyes. Beside him, Penny glanced up at you.

Then, to her right, you saw Natasha Trace. Another person you had once had a connection with. She was good friends with Bobby before you met him. The two of them had gone to school, and eventually college, together. Beside her was a woman you’d never seen before, but judging by the way Natasha held her hand, you inferred that they were in a relationship. It was no surprise to you. Nat had always made it clear that she only had eyes for women.

Then, on the other side of the woman was Mickey Garcia, another one of Bob’s good friends. His best friend, in fact. Mickey offered you a smile, and you took that as acceptance of you. He always had been rooting for you, all those summers ago.

Beside Mickey was Javy Machado. You couldn’t get a read on him. His face bore a neutral expression as he regarded you. Back then, he’d been best friends with Jake, and had therefore been completely on his side. You assumed the sentiment was still the same.

Then, of course, there was Bradley Bradshaw. He was Pete and Penny’s surrogate son, in a way. After Bradley’s mother died when he was a teenager, Pete had brought him on to learn how to run the camp. One day, he would take charge of the place, after the husband and wife duo retired.

All of them were seated around that table, but you noticed that one was missing. You had no idea where Jake was. Maybe he wasn’t joining everyone for dinner. Maybe he’d left. A part of you hoped so.

“Wanna sit here?” Bobby asked, motioning to two seats next to Bradley.

You nodded, and he pulled out your chair for you. Once you were seated, he took his own seat beside you, between Bradley and you. The other man leaned over the table, and you got a look at his face for the first time in six years. He’d lost his baby face, and was now sporting a defined jaw. A neatly kept mustache shadowed his upper lip. You thought it suited him. “Good to see you again,” he said.

Bradley’s statement seemed to break the ice, and a few murmurs of greeting echoed around the table. Even still, an air of awkwardness hovered over the group. You wanted to crawl out of your own skin. But you were here now, and there was no turning back.

The food was set up around the table like a regular family dinner. Simple foods. Sandwiches. Veggies and dip. Chips. You grabbed a sandwich, but you found your stomach in knots, and the thought of eating anything nauseated you.

“Well, Penny, you did it. Got us all to come back. Good on you,” Natasha spoke up.

Penny shrugged. “Pete and I have been talking about it for a while. I know the way things ended back in ‘80 was…bad, to say the least. But we really feel that this place has potential, and we could breathe new life into it.”

“What do the Seresins think about that?” Javy asked, his brow raised.

“We think it’s an okay idea,” a voice spoke up from across the room.

The group looked up all at once to see the man stepping through the door. You tensed, taking in a breath. Your heart rate picked up, thudding against your chest as the chill of anxiety crawled along your spine.

“Really?” Natasha piped up.

Jake nodded as he approached the group. “Yeah. Seeing as how Penny wants to dedicate this place to Missy. We all remember how much she loved it here. I firmly believe she’d want it to keep going.”

Penny smiled. “I’m glad we’re on the same page, Jake.”

He stopped at the empty end of the table, hands coming up to rest upon the back of the chair there. “But I do have one question.”

“What’s that?” The woman asked.

Jake smiled, but you could tell is wasn’t a real smile. In fact, when you looked at his eyes, the pale green was filled with snake’s venom. “What the fuck is she doing here?” He jabbed his finger in your direction, and you froze, your eyes growing wide.

That was more like the reaction you’d been expecting.

Penny faltered, her smile fading. Beside you, you felt Bob stiffen. But you didn’t dare pull your eyes away from Jake’s accusatory glare.

“I-I just thought that–”

“I don’t care. Look, Penny; I really appreciate you putting this all together, but in what world did you think it was okay to invite the person who had a hand in my sister’s disappearance?”

“She isn’t the one who wanted to invite her. I am.” Pete stood from his seat, his eyes narrow. “I thought that she deserved a second chance. And I wanted you to find it in yourself to allow her that chance.”

“Oh, really? What, is she gonna bring my sister back? Hm?” Jake’s gaze was so cold. You wished the ground would swallow you up. How on earth could you have thought this was a good idea?

“No, but–”

“If she stays, I’m refusing the dedication. She’s the reason I lost Missy. She doesn’t get to just stand there and pretend she’s sorry, while my parents and I are still grieving.”

Your eyes had blurred with tears, and your chest was tight. You should never have come.

But then, “leave ‘er alone, Jake.” Bobby stood up, facing the other man.

“Oh, you coming to her rescue is rich, Baby on Board. Wasn’t it your dick she was sucking when my kid sister went missing?”

The room went dead silent.

Bob took a breath. Then two. “Don’t you dare talk about her like that. She’s here, whether you like it or not. And she deserves another chance, just as much as anybody.”

“No, you know what? You’re right. This was a mistake. I should never have come,” you spoke up, rising from your chair.

But Bobby grabbed your arm. “No. Don’t let him drive you away.” His eyes were pleading.

You pulled away from his grasp, sadly shaking your head.

“I’m sorry,” you whispered. Then you turned to Jake. “I wish I could bring your sister back. But I can’t. You need to know that I cared about her. And I should have been more thorough when I did bed check that night. I regret it every day, and I’ve lived with that guilt for the last six years. But my guilt is nothing compared to the loss you and your parents have had to endure. And for that, I’m so fucking sorry. I’ll leave, if that’s what you’d prefer. I never should have come in the first place.”

With that, you ducked your head, pushing your chair out of the way as you scrambled toward the exit. You could hear Bob calling your name, but you ignored him, your legs carrying you quickly toward the door. Your vision had tunneled, and your chest was heavy. You had to get out of that building. You felt like you were suffocating. Like someone had pulled a plastic bag over your face.

You threw your arms out in front of you and shoved the door open, letting out a great heaving sob as you stumbled down the front steps. You made it a few feet from the stairs before you leaned forward, hands braced on your knees as you fell apart.

“Oh, God!” You cried. You heard footsteps quickly approaching. It made you whirl around. “Just leave me the fuck alone!” Came your wail.

“No! I don’t care what he says, you deserve to be here!”

It was Bob, you realized.

“What do you want me to do, then?! He doesn’t want me here, Bob! And I never should’ve come. So just…just pull the truck around and I’ll get my luggage and get the fuck out of here.”

“No.”

“Either you take me back to the station, or I’ll get someone else to do it!”

“No other buses are running until tomorrow morning, so you can’t leave anyway! You’re stuck here for the night.”

“Goddammit!” You yelled. “I just want to leave!”

He grabbed you by the shoulders. “You’re not listening to me! I can’t handle watching you walk away from me again. I lost you once, and I’ll be damned if I let Jake Seresin be the reason I lose you again!”

And then, silence.

“Oh.”

He released your shoulders suddenly, his face stricken. “I-I’m sorry. I’m coming on way too strong. This is probably super overwhelming for you and I’m just making it worse.”

“No. No, you…you aren’t.” A pause. And then, “I don’t want to walk away from you again, either.”

“If you want to leave, then I’ll take you to the station tomorrow morning. But I just want you to try and stay. I know Jake doesn’t want you here, but I’m sure Pete can convince him to at least give you a chance.”

“I’m not so sure about that.”

However, back inside the mess hall, a discussion was happening. “I’m sorry, Jake. I know we should have told you we invited her back. I take full responsibility for that oversight. But your parents…they knew she was coming. We checked with them beforehand. Your mom is of the belief that we should give her another chance.”

“What?” Jake asked, incredulous.

“Yeah. So, I know it’s hard for you, but if your mom is willing to forgive, then I’m going to respect that, and give this girl a chance. You know she’s lived with this guilt for so long. I think that’s punishment enough.”

The blonde sighed, shaking his head. “I don’t like it. If it was up to me, she’d be on the next Greyhound outta here. But if my mom wants her here…” He looked out the window, eyeing you and Bob as you spoke to each other. “It boggles my damn mind, but I’ll respect my mom’s wishes. That doesn’t mean I forgive her, though. I don’t think I ever will. But you go ahead and keep her on staff. Something tells me it ain’t gonna end well, but what do I know?”

And with that, Jake stalked off in a huff.

He swung the screen door open, and your head shot up, your eyes widening as you saw him coming down the steps. Bobby took a protective step toward you.

“You can stay,” Jake said as he walked past. “But only because my mom is the one who wanted you here.” Then he leaned in close. Well, as close as Bob would allow him to get. “But just know this. If you fuck up in any way, shape, or form, I’ll ship you back home myself. We clear?”

“Y-yes,” you responded with a curt nod.

“Good.”

And with that, Jake Seresin walked away.

You let out an unsteady breath, your shoulders slumping. Bobby looked at you, his gaze questioning. “What are you gonna do?”

You shook your head. “I…I don’t…”

“You don’t need to decide now. Just sleep on it. Make your decision with a fresh mind, alright?”

“Yeah,” came your whispered reply. “Yeah, that’s–that’s what I’ll do.”

He took his baseball cap off, running his fingers through his hair. “I’m sorry. I know this is a lot for you. Do ya wanna just turn in early? I’m sure they’d understand if you skipped orientation.”

You considered his words, and finally, you shook your head. “No. I’ll, uh, I’ll try to go, and see how I do. But I think I’m going to just go and lay down for a while until then.”

“Want me to walk you back?”

“I’d like that.”

With a soft smile and a nod, Bobby began to guide you back toward the cabins. Your hands were shaking, and your head was spinning. It felt like someone had shoved their hands into your chest and taken hold of your lungs, squeezing them with all their might.

It was a painfully uncomfortable feeling, and you hoped that it would pass soon. But as long as you were here, in this place that held so many memories, it would probably remain a permanent fixture in your body. The only thing that soothed it was Bobby’s presence.

Even after all these years, and after the sour note you’d left him on, being near him still felt so comforting and peaceful. It was an odd, but welcome, sensation. You hadn’t expected it to be this way. When you thought of seeing him again, you imagined it would be painfully awkward, or that maybe he would refuse to speak to you.

But this was Robert Floyd you were talking about. He didn’t hold grudges. And if he did, then he’d been deeply hurt beyond repair. It was a relief to know that things were not beyond mending between you. At the moment, you were too overwhelmed and emotional to even consider what it might mean for you in the future. You were just grateful that he was near you again.

So much had changed. When you’d left him, he’d been more gangly. Twenty-two years old. Large wireframes perched atop his nose. All round cheeks and softer features. Now, he seemed a little taller. Or maybe, his slight bulk made him appear so. Gone were those gangly limbs, replaced with muscle that had been defined by physical labor.

His hands, though. His hands had stayed the same. They’d always been big, but he’d grown into them. They suited him now. Strong and steady. Farmer’s hands.

“You want me to come get you when it’s time for orientation?” The low cadence of his voice jarred you from your daydream.

“If you would? I forgot to pack my battery alarm clock, so have no way of keeping time.”

He nodded. “Sure. I can get ya one of those clocks. I actually have two, you can have one of mine.”

“You sure?”

“Yep, I don’t need two anyway. I’ll bring it to you later tonight.”

You shot him a grateful smile. “Thanks. I really appreciate it.”

Together, you stopped just outside your cabin, lingering at the foot of the stairs. Bob’s face was gentle, his eyes kind. “For what it’s worth, I’m glad you’re here. I know it’s a for you lot to be back here. And Jake didn’t help anythin’ by reacting the way he did. But if no one else is happy to see you, I want you to know that I am. I’ll respect whatever decision you make, but I really do hope you’ll stay.”

You considered his words, mulling them over in your mind. He didn’t expect you to decide at that very moment, and you knew your brain was too overworked to make that decision then as it was. So, the best you could do was nod your head. “I’ll see you in a bit, Bobby.”

He hummed, mouth quirking into a smile. “See you in a bit, Kit.”

You watched him walk away, his footsteps sure, his stance confident. He had a swagger to him that he didn’t have six years ago. It suited him well.

With a soft sigh, you finally turned and made your way into the cabin. As soon as the screen slammed behind you, you surged forward, collapsing into your bed, which was right near the door. Immediately, you buried your face in the pillow, and everything you’d been keeping inside came spilling out of you in bitter waves.

What had you gotten yourself into?

to be continued...

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#bob floyd x reader #bob floyd fanfiction #bob floyd smut #bob floyd angst #story: six summers

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m1ckeyb3rry · 2 months

Text

── THE GLASS PRINCESS // NINE

Series Synopsis: You wake up in a strange room with no memories, broken glass at your bedside, and a prince named Zuko as your only chance at figuring out who you really are.

Chapter Synopsis: The Blue Spirit inadvertently takes you to see the consequences of the decisions your brother has made during his reign as the Earth King.

Series Masterlist

Pairing: Zuko x Reader

Chapter Word Count: 5.8k

Content Warnings: complicated relationships (strangers to friends to lovers to enemies to strangers to lovers to enemies to lovers), amnesia, alternate universe, lots of secrets and lying and mystery

A/N: kind of gross description of an injury later on in the chapter?? be warned ig. also idk how compliant some parts of this are with canon but wtvr this is how it is in the glass princess universe

“Kuei!” you wailed, clutching your knee and sobbing, ducking away from the servant that tried to pull you to your feet. “Kuei!”

Though he was barely more than a child himself, he still came running when you called for him. Though he was the king of the Earth Kingdom, though he had many times more important duties to attend to, he always came running. Shoving the servant out of the way with a murmured apology, he crouched and swept you into his arms.

“Y/N, Y/N, don’t cry. What happened? Why do you weep?” he said, clutching your small body to his chest, holding your face against his narrow shoulders. You muffled your tears in the silken fabric of his robes, though the pain you were feeling rapidly faded in the protective warmth of your brother’s embrace.

“She fell, your royal majesty,” the servant said. “The stone floors scraped her knee, and she has been bawling since it happened. She won’t allow me to clean it, so it’s been left unattended. She keeps saying that she’ll only allow you to see to it.”

“Sister, you must let the servants help you,” Kuei admonished you, picking you up and setting you down on the ground before him. “That’s the entire reason they’re in the palace at all.”

You peered up at Kuei, blinking your wet, swollen eyes at him pitifully. He tried to remain stern, but the effect was lost on you, as he softened within the instant, using the ends of his flowing sleeves to wipe your face from the tears rapidly drying on your skin. Then, before anyone could protest, he tore the hem of his robe off.

“Your royal majesty!” the servant, inhaling sharply. “That robe was sent to your great-great-grandfather by the Fire Nation for his coronation! It is a priceless heirloom!”

“What is the past when compared to the present? What is an heirloom when compared with my sister?” Kuei said rhetorically, using the cloth to dab at the shallow wound on your knee and then tying it around the joint before helping you stand. “There you go. Does it still hurt quite as terribly?”

“Not as much,” you said. He rubbed your round cheek with the back of his hand.

“Good,” he said. “Servant, tell Long Feng I must meet with him immediately. There are some changes I wish to make.”

After that day, every hallway and every room in the Earth Palace had its stone floors covered in a plush, woven carpet.

“What do you want, Kuei?” you said, striding into his room and sitting primly across from him, folding your hands in your lap and crossing your legs at the ankles. Kuei had somehow squeezed both himself and his bear into a single armchair, but it was clearly an uncomfortable fit for the both of them. You supposed it did not matter to you, though, so you did not react beyond arching a single brow at the questionable arrangement of their two bodies and shaking your head in disapproval.

“Is it a crime for a brother to want to see his sister every once in a while?” Kuei said.

“You never call me just to see me,” you said. “Normally, it’s when you have bad news or when you want something from me. Let us skip over the mindless chatter this time and get to the point. Which is the reason you demanded my presence in your chambers?”

“It’s neither,” he said, looking at the ground. “Or, in some sense, it is both.”

“Kuei…” you said, and then you sighed. “Just tell me. You only need to do that much, and I won’t be angry, but you must speak the truth, and say it fully.”

“Bosco,” he said, which prompted a sleepy, mumbling groan from the bear. It was the kind of noise that might’ve been frightening if you were unused to it, but to you, it was high, reedy, thin — nothing like even the mere rise and fall of Quynh’s breath. “He is lonely.”

“If you’re going to ask me to babysit your bear, then I’ll have to tell you to save your breath,” you said. “That is one thing I will refuse you. There are people you pay to do exactly that kind of thing, so why would you foist the duty upon me?”

“No, no, it’s nothing like that,” he said. “It’s not something difficult. Well, it’s not taxing in that it won’t take very much time nor effort, but you might wish you didn’t have to do it, so it could be considered an unfair demand.”

“I see,” you said warily, knowing that anything more might be seen as agreement to an unknown decision.

“I want to send out an expedition!” he said.

“An expedition? Of what sort?” you said.

“To find a mate for Bosco, or, if not a mate, then a member of his own species who can be his friend. Imagine if you were stuck in a palace and only had beings entirely unlike you as company!” he said.

“It’s funny, actually, because I don’t really have to imagine…” you said under your breath.

“What?” Kuei said. You shook your head.

“Nothing,” you said.

“Anyways, that’s Bosco’s reality! Don’t you pity him? He must be so isolated and depressed,” he said.

If you did not know him so well, you would’ve thought he was doing it on purpose, but Kuei was so guileless that the only explanation was obliviousness to the extent that it could breed such irony.

“I’m sure it’s like that,” you said.

“That’s why I want to try and find another bear,” he said.

“I thought he was the only one to exist in the world?” you reminded him. Kuei had the nerve to roll his eyes at you.

“Do you think he just sprang from the ground like a tree? He must’ve had parents, which implies a larger population exists somewhere, even if it is a place we have not yet thought to look. Besides, the stories of Quynh must be rooted in some fact, so there is further proof that others exist,” he said.

“How many times must I tell you? The story of Quynh is not a story but the truth!” you said.

“You can say it as many times as you please,” Kuei said. “I know you particularly enjoy the sound of your voice, and I would do anything for you, you know, which includes allowing you to preach at me so that you may listen to yourself speak. If that comes in the form of sermons on Quynh and her nature, then I suppose it is just the kind of sacrifice that an elder brother must make.”

“You know what?” you said. “You’re the one who supposedly needs my help, so you ought not to be insulting me! What if I say no now?”

“You don’t even know what I’m asking you yet!” he said.

“Perhaps not, but please note that your chances of being rejected have increased exponentially,” you said. Kuei scoffed.

“I need someone else to sign the promissory note,” he said. “The Minister of the Treasury refuses to lend to me anymore.”

“Why would you need to take out a loan for something like that?” you said. “We have more than enough money in our family vaults to fund an expedition of that nature, even if I think it’s something of a waste of money.”

“We’re not allowed to access them,” Kuei said. This was news to you; after all, you had never really had much cause to inspect the family vaults, so you had not even known that you were denied the wealth of your ancestors. “Long Feng says we aren’t responsible enough to handle that much money yet.”

“So you’ve been funding your errands and expeditions with promissory notes?” you said.

“Yes,” Kuei said.

“Have you paid any back?” you said. He shook his head.

“No, we can’t visit the treasury, remember?” he said. “What money would I pay them back with?”

You fought back the urge to scream at him, forcing yourself to take deep breaths in the pursuit of calming down.

“Well, your salary, for one,” you said. “Even I’m paid some amount, just for being the princess, and you’re the king, so you should be getting more.”

“It’s nowhere near enough,” he said.

“Kuei,” you said through gritted teeth. “How much debt is the crown in?”

“Um…” he looked at Bosco nervously, like he was searching for a protector. The bear did not so much as blink at him; you wondered how your brother felt, knowing that the creature he had spent so much money on had such a lackadaisical reaction to his distress. “Perhaps it’s better if you don’t know, Y/N.”

“Yet you want me to sign a promissory note on your behalf?” you said. “Without even knowing how much debt our family is in, you want me to put us into more?”

“Long Feng said it’s alright,” Kuei said. “In fact, he was the one who suggested I ask you.”

“Does he have a plan for paying it back?” you said. Long Feng was Kuei’s most trusted advisor, and though you chafed against the tight leash he kept on you, you had to admit that he had done what he could to ensure the kingdom’s safety, even through Kuei’s ineptitude.

“Actually, he does,” Kuei said. “We’re going to implement a tourism tax. In recent years, the number of visitors to Ba Sing Se has skyrocketed; by levying a tax on those individuals as they enter the city, we’ll easily generate enough revenue to get rid of our debt entirely!”

It was a sound idea, but you were still, for some reason, uneasy about it. You couldn’t place your finger on why, but there was something holding you back from just agreeing as you normally would’ve.

“I’m sorry, but I can’t. Not yet,” you said. “How about we strike a deal? Once the existing debt has been paid off, I will agree to sign a new promissory note.”

“But Y/N!” he whined.

“It’s the best you’ll get out of me,” you said. “Either agree to abide by those rules or get someone else to take on the responsibility.”

Stubbornness was a family trait; you both possessed it in equal measure, which was why he knew that you were not fibbing. He jutted his chin out in defiance, but it was in the way of an obstinate child forced to acquiesce.

“Very well,” he said. “The debt will be gone within days! I will tell Long Feng to raise the tax. If people can afford to travel here, then they certainly have the coins to spare.”

“If that’s what you think is best,” you said. “As for me, I’ll be off.”

“Back to your room already?” Kuei said. “What do you even do in there nowadays?”

“The same as usual,” you said. “Read. Study. I must be as well-educated as possible, in all aspects, so I learn of history, and etiquette, and politics, and the fine arts, and other such subjects.”

“Are you off to read or to study, then?” he said.

“I’m reading,” you said. “Seven Soldiers of Agni, to be precise.”

“Didn’t you read that years ago?” Kuei said. “I remember you talking about it back then.”

“Yes, but I just — um, I just happened to see it on my bookshelf, which made me recall how much I adored it, so I’ve been rereading it,” you said. You could hardly tell Kuei the real reason why you were rereading Seven Soldiers of Agni: because Lee had told you to.

Seven Soldiers of Agni was, in your opinion, a far better story than The Mask of the Blue Spirit. You had to give Lee this much; besides his opinions on the ending of The Mask of the Blue Spirit, he had good taste in literature. You had been enjoying immersing yourself in the world of the seven Fire Nation ex-elites, who had each been sent out on personal quests by their Fire Lord in wake of an embarrassing defeat in battle, so that they could regain their honors and their statuses as Soldiers of Agni.

The passageway Quynh opened for you seemed short this time. Or maybe it was that you were rushing — meeting Kuei had taken longer than you had hoped it would, and if you were not quick enough, you’d miss the lighting of the lanterns that you had promised the Blue Spirit you’d be present to see.

Luckily, the spirit realm was on your side today. The door opened directly in front of the fountain, and you stumbled out of it in relief, nearly tripping over the uneven cobblestones of the plaza as you did so. Pressing your cool hands to your cheeks, which were warmed from the exertion of running through the passageway, you took a deep breath to settle your racing heart.

Scanning the vicinity, you saw nothing but the men lighting the lanterns with their stick-like torches. You should not have been disappointed by this, but you could not help yourself. There was no reason to imagine he’d even understood your cryptic words, but you had really been hoping he would’ve.

You sat on a nearby bench, watching as one by one, each lantern was lit. It was so unlike the eerie shine of Quynh’s Den; the crystals had a greenness to their glow, a cool toned lighting that washed everything in a ghostly tint. On the other hand, these lanterns were warm. The fires within them were gold and yellow and orange, benevolent in their hue, dancing cheerfully in the slight breeze of the evening. It made you wonder if the entire Fire Nation was composed entirely of people like this, people who were as bright and gentle as the element they lay claim to.

You didn’t know where he came from, but it remained that one moment, you were admiring the lanterns, and the next, you were turning to see the Blue Spirit sitting stiffly at your side, gloved hands clasped together, back straight as a pillar. And though you should’ve been startled, you could not help the smile from creeping over your face.

“Hello, Blue Spirit,” you said. “I thought you wouldn’t come. I’m sure you have more important things to do with your time.”

He shrugged.

“Well, if you’re anything like the man from the story, you’d be off saving the unfortunate,” you said. “Though I don’t know how many unfortunate there are in Ba Sing Se.”

He shook his head, though you weren’t sure which part, exactly, he was denying. But it mattered little; the end result was that he was there, sitting beside you, watching the reflections of the lanterns on the rippling water.

For a moment, you were both silent, and then slowly, carefully, as if you were entreating a wounded animal, you placed your hand atop his. His fingers twitched, but he did not pull away, only tilting his head to look at you quizzically. You did not move to interlock your fingers with his, simply letting your palm rest against the back of his hand like a whisper.

“Thank you,” you said, swallowing back your shyness in favor of honesty. “Thank you for coming. I don’t know who you are…but you really are someone admirable. I’m sure you have many better things to be doing, but yet you are here, with me. With a girl who does not even know what it means to have a person as a companion. I’m sure…I’m sure that I’m not the most entertaining person you could be spending your time with, yet you are spending it with me regardless.”

He raised his other hand and flicked you on the forehead. You scowled at him, but it was a weak expression of anger, barely able to disguise the rush of embarrassed pleasure you felt at the scolding form of acceptance.

“Do you truly mean that?” you said. It was definitely naive of you to assign such significance to a person you were only meeting for the third time now, a person who wore a mask and who never spoke, but you could not stop yourself from doing it. You could not stop yourself from wanting to know his answer.

A short, sharp nod. Your eyes widened, and you looked away, biting your lip, your shoulders drawing up to your ears as a way to shield yourself. You weren’t sure how to answer these things, how you were meant to react to them. The territory you were venturing into was entirely foreign, and you wanted to shy away as much as you went to leap into it headfirst.

Abruptly, without warning, the Blue Spirit’s fingers were wrapping around your wrist and he was yanking you towards him. You yelped in surprise at the firmness of his grip, but he did not let you protest, using his arm to shield your head as a boulder came flying through the air, whistling past where you had just been sitting.

“No,” you whispered as you realized you had been found once again. It only took a cursory glance for you to realize that the Blue Spirit had foregone his swords, too, which meant that you were in more than a bit of trouble. “I didn’t think they would be so daring as to attack me in the middle of — oh!”

The Blue Spirit pulled you after him at such a speed that you were breathless as you tried to keep up. Fisting the fabric of your skirt in one hand, you left the other limp in the air, its wrist still held fast by the Blue Spirit, who used it to guide you along behind him.

He knew the alleyways so well that he did not even hesitate as he charged along them, knowing intuitively where to step, where to leap slightly so that his feet did not catch, and though you did not possess this kind of knowledge, his own experience applied to you. You did not think about where you were going nor what you were doing; instead, you just followed after the Blue Spirit, trusting him blindly, without even the time to question if it was the right choice or not.

You were being chased. You could hear him behind you, the bricks of the road rising up to assault you as you went, and it was only thanks to the Blue Spirit’s dexterity that you were able to avoid the attacks. It was the same person as the night you had met the Blue Spirit, you were certain of it, which meant that he knew who you were, that this was even more targeted than you had previously understood.

“I don’t understand it!” you panted out as you barreled into yet another narrow alleyway. “I don’t understand why he’s out for my blood like this! How can I have enemies when I haven’t even left the palace before?”

The Blue Spirit did not respond, rounding a corner and then pausing before using a flower pot to boost himself and, consequently, you, onto the roof of a nearby shop. Hooking his hands under your arms to drag you up with him, he held a finger to his lips.

Your head spun as you realized how high you were, how precarious your perch was. The two of you were balancing on the peak of the roof, which was hardly wide enough for your two feet to remain side-by-side. You wobbled with uncertainty, but the Blue Spirit had not yet let go of you, and at the unsure movement, he only held on tighter.

“Where are they?” the voice of the man trying to kill you said as he rounded the same corner you had just crossed. “Princess Y/N and that defender of hers!”

You couldn’t tell who he was talking to, as by all accounts he seemed to be alone. Still, he did not continue running, skidding to a stop and inspecting the area. It was only a matter of time before he’d reach the natural conclusion and look up, but before that could happen, the Blue Spirit was once again taking a hold of your wrist and then running along the ridge, pulling you along with him, though in your right mind you’d never do anything so dangerous.

“I don’t know if I can do this,” you said as you both reached the end of the roof and it became evident what he was implying you had to do next. “Blue Spirit, did you hear me? I’m not the kind of person that does these things!”

The force of his eye roll could be felt even through his mask. To be sure, it was rather a silly concern — it was either jumping or giving yourself up to a certain death at the hands of your assailants. Still, though, you thought that you rather preferred your chances with the assassins. There was a chance they’d be merciful when killing you, and certainly they’d be more merciful than the ground by far.

But the Blue Spirit did not give you the chance to think about it. Actually, he did not give you a chance to do anything, jumping first, his momentum hauling you along with him. He had the good sense to catch you and stabilize you via his hands on your shoulders, allowing you a precious moment to breathe before you were off again, flitting from rooftop to rooftop in the same manner, as if you two were simply small birds playing in the night.

Only once you had been going for an impossibly long time did he slow his relentless pace and then finally cease it altogether. Helping you down to the ground, he allowed you to lean on him as you gasped for air.

“You are very reckless,” you said. “But that recklessness has saved my life, so I shall not reprimand you for it. Anyways, I suppose I owe you an explanation, considering this is the second time you’ve had to rescue me from that man.”

The Blue Spirit nodded. You took another second to calm your mind and your nerves, sighing when your heart continued its frantic beating and your chest remained tight. But at least you could speak normally now, so, gathering your wits about you, you straightened in order to stand of your own volition instead of his generosity.

“My father was killed by an Earthbending assassin shortly before I was born, as I’m sure you know — it’s not exactly some great secret, considering it happened in the city and not the palace. Although I have no reason to believe it, I cannot help but think that these recent attempts on my own life are somehow related to that incident,” you said.

You weren’t sure if that illuminated anything, but the Blue Spirit did not seem confused. Still, you felt like you had to explain further, perhaps defend your family’s name — or, at least, your own.

“I’m not sure what the reasoning is,” you said. “Nor how he and his accomplices know the truth of my identity. What good would come about from killing me? But they seem set upon it. Perhaps it is because I am the only one of my family who they have a chance at reaching. Kuei is ever safe in the palace, so it could be that they are simply capitalizing on an opportunity. It doesn’t answer the question of how they know who I am, though…”

You trailed off, lost in thought, and it was only then that you became aware of an awful, droning din that had been in the background while you were talking but now grew forefront in the absence of conversation. Tapping the Blue Spirit on the shoulder, you made a general motion in the direction of the noise.

“Wherever have we ended up, anyways? Do you know what that sound is?” you said.

Another nod of affirmation. You waited for him to, in his own way, elaborate, but he did not move. It was as if he was embarrassed or ashamed or frightened — something along those lines.

“You do not wish for me to know what it is?” you said.

He shook his head. You furrowed your brow.

“You think I will not like what I find? But it is my own city. Should I not, then, know? Whether good or bad, I ought to be aware of these things,” you said.

Glancing around cagily for a minute, he finally, reluctantly extended his hand to you. There were no words required for you to understand what he meant: it was your decision. Whatever you saw, it was your choice to see it.

You did not run this time. You slunk around, snakes instead of birds, ghosts through the city that were not being pursued but were instead the ones in pursuit, seeking something out that, according to the Blue Spirit, was better off not sought in the first place.

It was an archway. Members of the Royal Army stood in front of it, their faces and postures unyielding, their ranks only breaking to allow people in occasionally before immediately reforming into an impenetrable wall. They were silent, though; the source of the clamor was the mass of people on the other side of them.

“What is going on here?” you said, though this was a problem that was beyond the scale of the Blue Spirit’s hand gestures. “You there. What is the situation? Why are these people in such distress?”

“You don’t know?” said the man you had addressed. He was standing behind a stone counter, sorting change into neat piles, but at your voice, he glanced up at you. “Well, it’s a new policy, so it’s no surprise.”

“What new policy?” you said.

“That tourism tax,” the man said, voice dripping with acidic sarcasm. “Most of these tourists can’t afford to pay it, you know. Damn Earth King. Who cares about that bear of his when his own subjects are like this? Though you didn’t hear that from me, missy.”

Long Feng had always told you that tourists were wealthy people who came to Ba Sing Se for fashion. You had imagined them to be dripping in lush fabrics and glimmering jewels, arriving in carriages drawn by only the finest of steeds or palanquins carried by only the strongest of men. When Kuei had told you that there was another tourism tax to be implemented, you had not rallied against it, for in your mind, tourists were people who could drop thirty gold coins and not feel a difference in the weight of their purses.

That is to say, when you imagined tourists, you, in a way, imagined yourself. Yourself, if only you were free from the palace. Yourself, if you could visit Ba Sing Se with your own identity instead of in the guise of a commoner, sneaking through Quynh’s doors. But these people did not resemble that image at all. These people were nothing like you.

Their clothes were worn and old, their shoes ragged — if they were so fortunate as to have shoes at all. Most were barefoot, their heels cracked and bleeding, their nails jagged and peeling. Dust and sweat caked on their faces and sank into the lines of their weathered expressions, and there was a wild desperation to the way they clawed at one another, cupped their hands together, begged and begged to be allowed entrance to the great city.

One man was limping; the flesh of his right leg was the bubbling pink and yellow of a burn wound, though a purplish-black infection stained the edges. A young girl was trying in vain to help him walk, but the others paid him no mind as they surged forward, pleading with the soldiers, who remained steadfast in their refusal.

“Please!” a woman shouted, baby in her arms. “Take my child! For — for any amount of money, take my child!”

“Is she selling her baby?” you said in horror, clenching the Blue Spirit’s hand so hard that, were he not wearing gloves, he’d surely be scarred with the imprint of your nails. The man behind the counter shook his head.

“She’s offering to pay someone to take him with them, if they have enough to pay the tax to enter the city,” he said. “Any amount of money. She’ll sell herself, if that’s what it takes, just as long as her child makes it into Ba Sing Se.”

“Why won’t they let them in?” you said. “That man, he will lose his leg if he does not get medical attention immediately! And the child…it needs food. Malnutrition will stunt its growth, if it can even survive those conditions.”

“Ask his royal majesty,” the man scoffed. “He’s gone and raised the entrance fee again, apparently so that he can fund more expeditions to find a friend for that beast of his. No one can afford it, at least not the people at this gate. It’s not a problem at the monorail station or the other gates, where the wealthier refugees arrive, but at places like this, it’s causing issues.”

“Refugees?” you said. “But what cause do they have to seek refuge?”

The man paled, looking around nervously and then shaking his head.

“Of course, nothing,” he said. “They’re just tourists.”

“But you said—” you began, though you were cut off by the man wagging his finger at you.

“I don’t want to end up in a bad way with the Dai Li, do you hear me? I didn’t say anything! If you’re not here to gawk at their troubles, then what business do you have here?” he said.

“I — I suppose that I don’t have any,” you said.

“Then best be off before something happens,” he said. “They look about ready to revolt, and if it comes to that, then you’re right in the line of fire — I mean, boulders! Boulders. Nothing to do with fire.”

Based on the set of the Blue Spirit’s shoulders, he wanted to take the man’s recommendation. This wasn’t any kind of place for someone like you, after all, someone so sheltered and looked after. How could you, who had never wanted for anything, empathize with these people who had lost everything? How could you, who lived in a palace, understand the pain of those who had no homes at all? It was futile. You were Princess Y/N. You were — you were —

“You’re just gonna stand there?” the man said. “Make up your mind, and hurry up with it! Things are getting messy already, and you’re just dithering about! Seriously, you’re about as useful as that glass princess.”

“Glass princess?” you said. The man snorted, and that was when the Blue Spirit tugged on your hand in earnest, but you planted your feet against him. This was something you wanted to know.

“Have you been living in a cave your entire life?” he said. “Yes, the Glass Princess. The Earth King’s dearly beloved sister, who is too delicate for this world. Not a soul alive has seen her. It’s like she’s made of glass or something — hence, you know, why everyone calls her that. Really, it’s hard to tell which one is more contemptible between the two. One sibling who makes his subjects’ lives harder and the other who sits by and watches it happen. Just as long as she is comfortable. Just as long as her own life is not impacted. She’d watch everyone suffer, I’d wager, just as long as she could keep wearing her pretty dresses and fancy jewels.”

“Is that what they think of — of her?” you said. The man shoved his fist in his mouth and shook his head rapidly, eyes widening with panic.

“Of course not,” he said. “All hail the royal family! Please, beautiful, generous, kind-hearted miss, do not report me for treason. Please, I have children!”

You paid no attention to his fervent declarations of loyalty, gazing out at the crowd. These people hated you. It was not your differences which formed the chasm between you and them; it was that they genuinely despised you. You were the princess made of glass, the one who cared not for her subjects, the one who knew nothing about their plight and had no desire to learn, either. That was what they thought of you. That was who you were to them.

The man’s leg gave out, the girl falling to her knees and shielding him with her body from the trampling feet of the crowd. The woman’s cries grew louder, the baby’s body rattling periodically with coughs, but still no one took it from her arms, because no one could afford it. No one could gain entrance to Ba Sing Se, let alone with a child in tow, so why would they take her up on the offer?

“Guards!” you shouted, wrenching free from the Blue Spirit and storming towards the line of men. “I demand you let these people in at once!”

“Who are you to give such a command?” one of the guards said. He wore a captain’s uniform, but he was still young, fresh-faced. He must’ve been newly promoted. It explained why he was so set on following protocol, at any rate.

“It doesn’t matter who I am,” you said, and then you took out the money you had thought you would give to the Blue Spirit last night. “This will be enough. This will be enough to let anyone through this gate. Until they stop coming, they will be allowed in, at my expense. You shan’t charge them even a copper!”

The captain made to argue, but then he opened the bag and his jaw dropped. You glared at him with your hands on your hips as he slowly closed it and bowed at you.

“As you say, lady,” he said. “Let them in!”

The guards parted, and the crowd rushed in, like they did not believe the good fortune would last and they had to capitalize on it while they could. It was only the quick reaction of the Blue Spirit pulling you to safety that you were not bowled over, and you patted him on the arm in thanks.

“We should go,” you said. “What I’ve just done is bound to raise suspicion. Very few people have access to the kind of money I’ve just thrown at them, and there will be investigations soon, I have no doubt. It will be better if we are not caught at the scene by those who have questions they need answered. Not if I ever want to return to the city again.”

The two of you vanished just in time. When the Dai Li agents arrived to question the captain you had paid, he could only point to the darkness and say that the benefactor had disappeared, that the girl and her blue-masked companion must’ve been nothing more than a pair of spirits, perhaps sent by the long-absent Quynh for the good of her former kingdom.

taglist (comment/send an ask/dm to be added): @rinisfruity14 @c4ttheart @blacky-rose @shizko @marsbars09 @happyplaidpersonfestival @catborglar @camilleverreault @nerdybouquetofkittens-blog

#zuko x reader #zuko x y/n #zuko x you #zuko #avatar the last airbender #atla #reader insert #canon au #the glass princess #m1ckeyb3rry writes

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apomaro-mellow · 4 months

Text

King&Prince 6

Nancy was pacing back and forth. Normally, it made Eddie anxious, but since he knew exactly what was on her mind, he decided to let her continue until her short legs tired her out.

"I just-I don't understand you. How can you give him free reign of the castle?"

"He doesn't have free reign", Eddie said.

"Did you put a collar on him? Or cuffs?", Nancy asked. When Eddie shook his head, she continued. "Do you put any sort of spell on him? Or charm?"

"Robin can handle herself. And there's always guards nearby if he steps out of line."

Nancy looked him up and down, then crossed her arms. "It's almost like you have faith in him or something."

Eddie couldn't describe what he was feeling. He couldn't forgive the Harringtons for what they had been doing. But Dustin was right. Unless he could prove that Steve had been directly responsible, it wasn't right to punish him. He could still dislike him, since he definitely benefited from the misdeeds of his family.

And there was a slim chance those hard feelings would ever change.

------------------------

Steve got dressed just in time to hear someone knock on the door.

"Hey, your royal slowness, we haven't got time for you to soak all day. I have actual important things to do."

It sounded like the woman from before. The one who didn't want him. Steve opened the door to her unimpressed face.

"Let's go."

"Without shoes?", Steve asked, looking down his bare feet.

"You won't need 'em."

She led him down the hall, past some windows and Steve got his first glimpse of the outside. It looked...normal. Nothing like the blackened, dead trees, and the dry, salted earth that he'd been led to believe this area was. The trees were wilting, sure, but in the typical way ones did in autumn. There was grass and even people doing chores outside.

Past the castle walls, he could make out something in the distance that looked like a town.

"Keep up!"

Steve tore his eyes away and saw that she was a long ways ahead of him. He jogged to catch up, noting the carpet on the floor. He was suddenly reminded of being very young and still allowed to go barefoot outside his quarters.

"Alright", she opened up a closet that was filled with instruments. "I need these moved over to the other end of the south wing and then polished and shined."

"So you're using a prince as both a pack mule and a maid?", Steve asked, brow raised. "What if I refuse?"

"Then I get our all-powerful king to put a compulsion hex on you and hypnotize you to do it anyway."

"Steve!", Dustin exclaimed when he came around the corner, beaming. "I went down to visit you and you were gone! They set you free?"

"I'm less free and more like free labor, apparently."

"You know you're not supposed to go down into the dungeons, Dustin."

"I see you've met Robin. Don't worry, she's nicer than she looks", Dustin grinned.

"Not nice enough to not tell Eddie what you've been doing. And I'm pretty sure he threatened to tell your mom. Maybe I'll just cut out the middle man", Robin warned.

Dustin paled. "You wouldn't dare."

Robin gestured to the musical instruments. "Help out with this and I won't tell a soul."

Dustin let out a breath of relief. "Menial work? That's it? Between Steve and me, we can knock this out easy."

Steve frowned. "I never said I'd-"

"This spoiled brat probably can't even lift a flute", Robin challenged.

"He knows how to kill a guy like a dozen different ways. Steve could finish this in like ten minutes", Dustin countered.

"Ooh, challenge accepted", Robin turned, ignoring Steve's protests. "I'll be in the second music room. Keep his highness on a tight leash."

Fully roped into it, Steve started hauling instruments. Dustin was talking, but he was thinking of his escape. He had no shackles, no bars. He could find a moment to get past the walls and then...maybe it would be better to sneak to the stables and get a horse first. He dreaded the thought of traveling such a distance with no shoes though. Maybe someone had a pair lying around?

Could he steal a pair in town without anyone noticing? He doubted most townsfolk would recognize him as an enemy prince. Steve was deep in his escape plan strategizing, that he just nodded along and 'mhm'ed to whatever it was that Dustin was saying. That kid could talk to a wall and keep the conversation going, which he was pretty much doing now, talking to Steve.

He barely even noticed that they were done moving things until the woman, Robin, threw a cloth at him.

"I want these shiny enough to see my reflection in them", she ordered.

"Why are you making him do all this?", Dustin asked.

"I'm getting new students tomorrow and they deserve nice equipment."

Dustin's eyes narrowed. "Who?"

"Oh no one you'd know. Except for Mike."

"Mike?!"

"And Max. And El, oh and Lucas and", Robin went on naming people, some Steve knew, others that he didn't.

"Bullshit! There's no way they're all taking classes!"

"Oh they are. And you are too", Robin said while leaving the room.

Incredulous, Dustin followed her out, leaving Steve alone in the room. Alone. They had left him alone. He looked to the open door, leading out into the hallway, then the instruments spread out on tables and the floor, covered in dust.

-------------------

Jeff and Nancy were strolling the halls, discussing how best to prepare for any sort of retaliation when they heard whistling. It wasn't the sound that gave them pause, but where it was coming from. A music room that wasn't supposed to be in use yet. They poked their heads in and saw Prince Steve, whistling a happy working tune while shining a shining a trumpet.

The two of them pulled their heads out, shared a mutual expression of confusion and went to seek out Eddie to report to him, but he was nowhere to be found. That usually meant he was off in town or visiting some other part of the kingdom. Either way, they wouldn't be able to talk to him until he returned.

Steve didn't spend too long rationalizing why he was doing this. He was just biding his time until he came up with a more solid plan. Even though his homeland wasn't really a home, at least no one there wanted to actively kill him. He wasn't safe here and he couldn't forget that. He especially couldn't let his guard down around the king.

Robin remembered him a couple of hours later and led him back to the room he'd first been brought to. Steve had time to actually look at it now. Smaller than his own room but larger than the prison cell. Definitely warmer to. But besides that, it was very minimal and sparse. A bed, a small drawer, and the bathroom. Steve wondered what this room was for. It was an odd sort of guest room.

Robin said something about dinner being brought up but Steve paid it no mind when he realized he'd be sleeping on a bed tonight. He collapsed into it and buried himself in the blanket. He'd be having sleep for dinner.

Part 8

Tag Team

@thesuninyaface @only-evanescent @snakeorsquid @ignoremyworld @theclichefortunecookie @goodolefashionedloverboi @just-a-tiny-void @0body0disphoria0 @cinnamon-mushroomabomination @samsoble @sugartin @jamieweasley13 @y4r3luv @xtkxkrzrizir @un-knownperson @greekgeek24 @justdrugsformethanks @potato-of-the-lord @notaqueenakhaleesi @swimmingbirdrunningrock @queenie-ofthe-void @nebulainajar @lil-gremlin-things

#apo writes #stranger things #fanfiction #steddie #robin buckley #dustin henderson #steve harrington

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solomons-finest-rum · 9 months

Text

“As The Crow Flies” (Alfie Solomons x fem!Reader) — PART 2

SUMMARY — By all accounts Anna Gray died in Australia and had no business standing in Alfie’s living room, nor calling the man “darling” for that matter. But there you were, identical to the picture they took when they shipped you off to the colonies.

AUTHOR’S NOTE — Thank you to everyone for words of encouragement and for waiting for the update 💗💗💗💗💗 Goodness, that was one hefty break. I hope the next part won't take me as much, but I can't exactly promise it will be fast, sorry about that. I think this is a part 2 out of 3 and then I'll do an epilogue, but that is still more of a draft than a plan.

WORD COUNT — 2,708

Masterlist

Tommy sat beside Polly in utter silence, watching the cigarette slowly burn between her fingers to the point where the heat nearly touched the skin. Tommy observed it with morbid fascination because it was something other to do than to stay with his own thoughts. And he would not dare to speak to Polly first—not after the news he had brought her this evening.

The clock chiming in the hall let them know it was nearly three o’clock in the morning, but still neither of them moved. The fire went out long ago and Tommy wondered in his solemn silence if Polly would accept a blanket.

“How could you tell me she was dead?” Polly suddenly asked the question Tommy had been dreading for the past hour and then she flicked the cigarette butt straight on the carpet.

Tommy dared to look her in the eye then and immediately regretted that decision when he was met with nothing but hurt and steel-like anger.

“They told me she was, Pol. I went to the parish myself, saw the documents myself,” Tommy replied calmly.

That signature state of calm didn’t come to him as quickly as it used to, he noticed. These days it required more and more effort; or perhaps the things he chose to do got worse with time.

“Fucking nuns,” Polly hissed and shook her head. “You should have pressed them harder! Should’ve made them talk!”

“Then what, hm? Threaten them? Put a gun to their head, eh? There was nothing else they would have told me, Pol, they didn’t know.”

“I don’t care what! We shouldn’t have just abandoned her like that. Now look what happened, she’s a hostage with another fucking monster, just ready to put his paws on her whenever he pleases!” Polly stood up abruptly and Tommy wondered for a moment if perhaps he shouldn’t slip some laudanum in her drink. She looked frenzied, her hair in disarray and eyes bloodshot. The way Tommy saw it, she was half-ready to walk to Margate on foot and kill Alfie herself.

“Polly,” Tommy moved to stand in front of her just in case she had any ideas. He put both hands on her shoulders to reassure her. “Polly, look at me. Alfie Solomons, yeah? Alfie Solomons is just about the last man you’d find putting his hands on anybody that didn’t ask for it, all right? I swear this much.”

“Jesus, I don’t care what you swear anymore, Tommy!” Polly scoffed and tore herself away. “The man is insane, you said so yourself—many times in fact! We all remember what he did to Arthur! Or have you forgotten?!”

“No,” Tommy replied stiffly. “Perhaps he’s insane, but he’s not cruel to women, Polly, never has been. He doesn’t have the reputation.”

“Well, neither do you, that doesn’t mean one wife’s not buried, the other’s escaped!”

Though Tommy would never admit it, that hurt immensely. That was the problem with people who loved him, he supposed. They knew exactly where to hit to draw the most blood. He willed his face to return to the stony mask it was before.

“But your daughter is not buried and she isn’t gone,” he said. “She’s alive, Pol, I saw her with my own two eyes. She’s alive and we can get her back.”

“Well, that’s not exactly possible now, is it?” she scoffed and turned her gaze back to the fireplace as if some ghostly apparition beckoned her to it. “You said she didn’t know you, I bet that fucking animal has her caged.”

“That’s not true. I saw her, Pol, she looked well.” Tommy felt like stressing that might help. “She has your eyes and your wit and I swear she cooks somethin’ awful, but she’s no prisoner. Alfie is…” He hesitated then, because it wasn’t exactly a comfortable thought to consider. “She’s got him wrapped around her little finger, Pol. You can’t say no to her, eh? Just like I can’t exactly argue with you neither.”

That brought Polly back, even if just to glare at her nephew with fury.

“Pol, I swore to you once I’d bring your children home and I haven’t changed my mind.” Tommy took her hand in his and to his relief this time Polly didn’t pull away.

“I don’t think Alfie harmed her,” he insisted. “I don’t think she’d let him. Polly, she looked tough. Hardened by life. She’s a woman grown, Pol, and I know she can take care of herself. You said so yourself, eh? It’s grandfather’s gift, reading people. Well, I read her tonight and I know Alfie, too. Something happened to her, that much’s clear, but there’s nothin’ evil happenin’ to her in that house.”

That seemed to satisfy his aunt because she finally took a deep breath that actually made Tommy feel like he could breath himself.

“Why would he tell you to lie to me, Tommy?”

“How do you mean?”

“Why would he think you wouldn’t tell me? That you’d play his game.”

“I don’t know.” He shrugged. “But I know what he wants in return and to be honest his plan wasn’t as delirious as I’d take him for.”

“I don’t care what you discussed with that man, that’s of little consequence,” Polly scoffed. “We are going to get her and we are going to get rid of him once and for all, Thomas, because no one fucks with the Peaky fuckin’ Blinders and no one fucks with the family! Do you hear me?!”

“I hear you.”

“Good. Now get up!”

“So we’re goin’ today?”

“Today!”

Tommy nodded and gently navigated her back into the armchair. He rang the bell for the maid. In the agitated state Polly’s house was currently in, Tommy was sure the servants weren’t really sleeping.

“And get Michael,” she ordered. “I don’t care what that peroxide tramp says about it, he’s coming with us.”

Alfie stood on the porch and smoked his pipe. He let you squeeze his arm in anger while trying to sneak concerned glances in your general direction. Tired of being treated like a spooked horse, you glared at him until he stopped with all the concern. You were tougher than you looked and you would very much appreciate it if Alfie finally admitted it.

“You alright?” Alfie asked you for what must have been the twentieth time and you nodded stiffly instead of a reply.

“Darlin’, I mean it, all right, ‘cause if you ain’t tryin’ to make me bloody worried then you’re doin’ a splendid job regardless, yeah?”

“Shut up.”

“Right, that’s just fuckin’ uncalled for, that…”

“No. Someone’s coming.”

You pointed then to the faint shapes on the horizon, which, judging by the noise, must have been the Shelby Bentleys.

“Get the binoculars, Alfie.”

“I’ll get the fuckin’ shotgun is what I’ll get.”

“Alfie.”

“I’ll do as I damn well please in my own house, woman!”

“So your brilliant means of operation is just bullets, is that it? What the hell did you expect, that Tommy would just listen to you?”

There was a clear measure of challenge in your words and all you two did then was just size each other up, trying to see who would call the bluff first. Finally, your husband grumbled his best catalogue of swear words and brought you the binoculars you asked for.

“It’s the Shelbys,” you confirmed.

“Like clockwork, that lot,” Alfie scoffed. “You tell them one thing, they go the opposite fuckin’ direction.”

“Some clock that’d be,” you chuckled. “We knew they’d come. That’s why we’re here.”

“Don’t get smart with me.”

The pipe now abandoned, Alfie checked the barrel of his favourite handgun and reassured himself with the number. The only problem was the Shelby threat looming on the horizon and what looked like three cars, no doubt packed to the brim with Tommy’s henchmen.

“And you’re certain he will help us?” you asked.

“‘Course. Like I said before, right, Tommy’s nothin’ if not reliable.”

“That’s quite generous coming from you.”

“Just ‘cause he shot me doesn’t mean we ain’t kin now.”

“I am many things, dearest, but a Shelby isn’t one of them.”

“Ah, well, too bad. And too late to call the cavalry off, I reckon. If ya changed your mind…”

“That’s not what I meant.” It was your time to scoff. “These people are not my family. You are.”

On a rare occasion when Alfie Solomons found himself something close to emotional, three black Bentleys finally arrived at the quaint Margate cottage. You instinctively grabbed your husband’s arm again. He didn’t flinch, not even when you dug your nails into the skin, hard enough to draw blood.

“Right, gentlemen! And lady. What a lovely surprise, innit.” Alfie beckoned with his other hand, waving the gun about and leaving very little doubt as to the quickness of change in his intentions were the Shelbys not to play along. “Let me simply say: shalom… All right. Welcome. Yeah, that is the message for today, or so one might hope.”

What would undoubtedly be another inspired monologue had to wait, however. As soon as Tommy escorted Polly out of the car and her eyes met her daughter’s, Polly’s knees gave out. Tommy and Arthur caught her just in time and held her up on both sides.

“Anna!” Polly cried. “Oh dear God, it’s really you! Anna!”

You stood still like a statue, at which point even your husband turned to look at you with a mix of concern and fascination. You let go of his arm and focused on Tommy.

“Mr. Shelby. You brought an army this time. Am I to expect a shootout?”

As cold and unmoved as Tommy tried to be, it proved to be hard with a sobbing woman on his arm.

“Or am I to understand you’re here to kidnap me?” you pressed. “Please don’t say my chicken was that spectacular, I won’t believe it.”

“Anna.” Polly squeezed Tommy’s arm and took a step forward. Alfie uncocked his gun. You sighed and wished he hadn’t, since the entire Shelby ensemble now followed with the same.

“What the fuck is the matter with you, you fools! Put the bloody guns down!” Polly seethed and marched towards the house with a newfound purpose in her step. “Anna. Come down from there. You’re coming home with us.”

You looked at the woman you knew was your mother, though now only by name. Your heart didn’t know her and your head was too preoccupied to care.

“That might pose an issue,” you answered. “Because I am home.”

The next person that got out of the car, however, seemed to finally make you shake off your stony demeanour. You couldn’t quite help it, because his face was the first you could actually say was known to you.

“Michael!” you whispered and then rushed down from the porch before anyone could stop you. “Oh dear God, you’re alive!”

You fell into your brother’s steady embrace and though the force of it nearly made him stumble, he held you firmly and wouldn’t let go—not even if the devil himself tried to claim you both again.

The tearful reunion was so quiet that no one apart from you and Michael could know what words were exchanged. While the Shelbys weren’t exactly the type to interrupt, you could tell that Alfie was out of patience.

“Are we just about finished, then?” he inquired. “Forgive the interruption, yeah, but it’s gettin’ li’l too chilly for my taste.”

Polly took that opportunity to point her gun directly at Alfie’s head.

“Now then, madam,” Alfie chuckled and stood his ground, though he didn’t raise the gun he was holding. “I’d only ask ya to aim better than your nephew, all right, ‘cause I can’t exactly take no more of this.” He pointed to the injured side of his face. “Once was enough, yeah, so if you’re certain that’s what ya wanna do, I won’t stop ya.”

“Shut your mouth,” Polly hissed. “You shut your mouth!”

“Polly.” Tommy took a step towards them. His voice was full of warning and he ordered his men to stand down with a single wave of his hand. “Polly, think about what we’re doin’ here, all right? We came to get your daughter,” he turned to point at you, who now looked toward her husband with a horrified expression. “She’s safe now, Polly, we can take her home. There’s no need for violence, Pol, not today.”

“Like hell you will!” you protested. “Can you stop talking about me like I’m not even here?! No one’s taking me anywhere.”

“Now then, Tommy,” Alfie sighed. “There I was, mate, thinkin’ we had an understandin’, you an’ I. After all these years of friendship, right, you come to my house, guns blazin’, and with your lovely aunt no less, all in pursuit of justice I can’t exactly give, mate, ‘cause I ain’t the one who took Anna away in the first place. So…”

To everyone’s surprise Alfie turned his back to Polly and opened the front door as casually as one might when having a gun pointed at you turns into something of a daily occurrence.

“Might I offer you a drink then, uh, Polly, is it? Right, lemme just say that, yeah, I ain’t exactly one for close family ties, you see, that’s just not somethin’ I was brought up with…”

Alfie’s voice disappeared somewhat as he walked further into the house, completely ignoring the chaos on the porch. You tried to rush back towards the house and stomped on Michael’s foot with all your might when he wouldn’t let you go. Michael roared with pain and you took your chance to run, but this time it was Arthur who stopped you and who, all things considered, presented a much sturdier guard than your brother.

“You let me through,” you hissed.

“Nah, I don’t think so, luv. You’re comin’ with us.”

“Like hell I am!”

Polly, still stunned, turned towards her children and lowered her gun, creating an opportunity for Tommy to catch up with her and take it out of her hands.

“Not today,” he repeated softly. “There’ll be time for vengeance and there’ll be time for justice. But not here, Pol, not now. Arthur, let Anna pass.”

Polly shook her head and spat on the bluish tiles of the porch, thoroughly worn out and bleached by the seaside air. Only then did she notice the curious mosaic right before the front door and the gentle arch forming the words “lethe”.

“I’m not leaving without her, Tommy,” she warned.

“I know you’re not.”

Out of options and out of bullets, Polly crossed the threshold and she hoped the choice would truly erase the anguish from her memory—if only for a moment.

Alfie’s gambit must have been exactly that from the start, Tommy mused, because as soon as the rest of the Shelby clan entered the house, they were welcomed by the maid with a tea tray. Alfie, now comfortable in his usual armchair, gestured for his guests to sit.

Judging by his calm and calculated demeanour, Tommy doubted him and his family had been so unexpected. In fact, he just about acknowledged he had let himself be manipulated not once but twice in what was perhaps the strangest forty-eight hours in a long time.

“Right, now, we don’t know each other well so I don’t know exactly what everyone drinks…” Alfie waved at the maid dismissively and she started to serve the tea as if it was any other ordinary occasion. “Feel free to peruse the bar if you so prefer, Tommy, right, but not you.” Alfie settled his only seeing eye on Arthur, though the elder Shelby brother didn’t seem as prone to anger as Alfie remembered. That was almost disappointing.

You entered the house last, holding your brother’s hand. Michael smiled down at you fondly as if you hadn’t just caused him severe bodily harm. Tommy and Alfie both noted the scene, though neither exactly for the same reasons. Alfie looked just about done tolerating all that whispering between you and your brother and it seemed so was Tommy.

Though neither, exactly, for the same reasons.

“Right then,” Alfie announced. “Should we discuss the terms?”

#peaky blinders fanfic #peaky blinders imagine #peaky blinders x reader #alfie solomons fanfic #alfie solomons x reader #alfie solomons imagine #tom hardy fanfic #tom hardy imagine #tom hardy x reader

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tilebytiles · 2 months

Text

Star Treatment (Alex Turner x Reader) - Part 4

summary: there's a strange man named alex that has a strange obsession with you, and he makes the strangest offer of your life.

word count: 4.1k

warnings: violence, smut (oral - f receiving)

part 1 / part 2 / part 3

You sat on the edge of Alex's bed, remaining completely silent and as still as a statue as Alexa and Miles practically tore his room apart, trying to find clothes that would fit you. Although his room looked exactly like yours, his closet and chest of drawers had been tailored to his exact tastes and were filled with entirely different clothes that were all too big and too fancy. You couldn't help but marvel at how many different suits that man had.

"He has joggers," Alexa finally announced, practically yanking a pair of black joggers from one of the drawers. She tossed them onto the bed, careful to not hit you with them, and resumed her search for a suitable top.

Emerging from the closet, Miles groaned. "What kind of sick bastard doesn't even have a comfortable tee to wear?"

"The kind of sick bastard that builds a hotel on the moon," you mumbled, hugging your arms a little tighter against your chest. You'd been in that position for the last fifteen minutes, at least. Your arm was now wrapped up in bandages, and the bleeding had stopped, but there was still a dull ache reverberating from the wounds.

“Fuckin’ finally!” Miles exclaimed, taking a plain white tee from Alexa. He held it out to you, seemingly for approval, and you nodded quickly. You were desperate to get out of your dress; it was pretty, but now it only reminded you of the terrible events that had just unfolded. “I’ll step out.” He handed the shirt back to Alexa. “Just holler if you need me.”

You watched as he opened the door, stepped out, then shut it behind him. You glanced over at Alexa, who gave you the same warm smile she had in the lift. “Can you stand up?” she asked. “Let’s get that damned dress off of you.”

You stood and turned, facing the door as Alexa walked the short distance to you. You felt her hands land on the back of your dress, and you felt one of her rings brush against your back as she began unzipping the dress. Miraculously, you’d been able to get it zipped up on your own before the party, so you knew you could do it yourself; you appreciated the help that you were being offered, though, and you didn’t say a word. When the zipper hit the bottom, you wriggled your way out of the tulle straps that had rested around your shoulders and let the dress hit the floor. You stepped out of the circle of fabric, then turned once more to face Alexa as she passed the white tee over to you.

You got changed relatively quickly, and Alexa even gave you a pair of black socks she’d found in one of the drawers. You thanked her quietly; you’d always been abnormally particular about not letting things touch your feet, and the thought of some hidden particle or crumb being buried in Alex’s carpet for you to find unsettled you. The joggers were a little loose and a little long, but pulling them up to your waist and a tug of the drawstrings did the trick. You even knotted the drawstrings to be sure the joggers wouldn’t come off in the middle of the night.

Not long after you were dressed and sitting on the edge of Alex’s bed again, the door all but swung open to reveal him. He didn’t look as angry as he had before, but it was clear he wasn’t perfectly calm, either. When his eyes landed on you, though, his expression seemed to soften a bit. He quickly looked over at Alexa and nodded once. “Thank you for helping.”

“Girls have to help girls,” she said with a small shrug, smiling at you again. It seemed there’d been an unspoken request in Alex’s words, for within the next few seconds, she was across the room and out the door.

Alex gently shut the door, then turned to look at you again, letting out a heavy sigh. He walked over slowly, his footsteps muffled against the carpet. When he reached you, he sat down beside you, careful to leave a little bit of space between the two of you. He stared down at the floor, seemingly lost in thought. His jaw shifted, much as James’ had, but even when its movements ceased, no words came out. You decided to take the initiative. “What happened?”

“I almost beat the fuck out of him,” he mumbled, reaching up to scratch at his chin. He still wouldn’t look at you. “I asked him what you could’ve possibly done to warrant being injured, and at first, he didn’t answer. When I threatened to throw him out of the airlock and let him suffocate, though, he was quick to start talking.” He let out a low, wry chuckle. “He knew his connections and status couldn’t save him out here.”

He finally looked at you, letting his hands rest limply between his legs, which were spread apart- the way they always were, if he didn’t have them neatly crossed. Your own hands were nestled between your thighs. His expression was unreadable, something you found almost painful. “He said you’d rejected him,” he murmured. “He’d tried to be nice, but you weren’t.”

Your heart plummeted into your stomach. You hadn’t anticipated Alex believing him. “I-I’m sorry,” you stammered out, “I wasn’t trying to-”

He shook his head, making you shut up instantly. “I knew he was full of shite.” He visibly hesitated before reaching over and resting his hand on your knee. His touch was light, giving you plenty of room to move your leg if you were uncomfortable; you didn’t, though. You quite liked how borderline comforting his touch felt. “What really happened, Y/N?”

His thumb began to trace small circles against your knee, crumpling up the fabric of his joggers and then smoothing it back out. You took a minute or two to try and find the right words to explain what had happened, and he waited patiently. “I rejected him,” you finally said, “because I wasn’t interested.”

You couldn’t take your eyes off of Alex’s thumb, and in your periphery, you saw him nod. “Then what happened?”

“He asked if it was because of you.”

His thumb stopped in its tracks. “Me?”

You nodded. There was a lump trying to form in your throat, although you had no idea why. “He asked if he wasn’t good enough for me because I wanted to be with you instead. Then he … he accused me of having sex with you.”

Alex let out a breath, and his hand lifted from your knee, returning to his lap. You could see both of his hands clenching into fists, then relaxing, then clenching again, as if he was trying not to punch something. It continued for what felt like an eternity, but had really been no more than a couple of minutes. When he finally spoke again, his voice was low. “I’m getting him sent back to Earth.”

That wasn’t what you’d anticipated him saying. “What?”

“For my sake and everyone else’s. God knows he’ll probably try to pull that shit with someone else … and if I have to keep seeing his stupid fucking face for the rest of this trip, I’m throwing him outside and letting him die.”

You remained quiet, understanding where Alex’s rage came from. It was a poorly timed feeling, but your stomach fluttered a little at the thought that he was so upset on your behalf. It made you wonder if James was telling the truth. A sigh escaped him, and he turned his head to look at you. “You look exhausted,” he mumbled.

You shrugged. “This isn’t so bad, really. Just an average shift.”

He chuckled and nodded, but then his expression slipped back into one of concern. “You should rest,” he said quietly. “You can sleep here for the night.”

“I really shouldn’t-“

“Y/N.” He gave you a look, then jerked his head in the direction of the rest of his bed. “Rest.” It was less of a suggestion and more of a command, and although you knew sleeping in his room was probably a terrible idea, you were absolutely exhausted. It hadn’t hit you until now; knowing you were finally away from the danger of before, your body came out of fight-or-flight mode and adrenaline was no longer coursing through your veins.

You stood and went around the bed, slipping beneath the covers on the right side. Your head hit the pillow, and you were half tempted to fall asleep right then and there; you didn’t, though. You wanted to talk to Alex for a little longer. He stood from the edge of the bed and approached the window, drawing the curtains shut. He then crossed the room and flicked the light switch, encasing you both in almost complete darkness. You could just barely hear him as he went around the bed to the other side, and you felt the mattress sink beneath his weight as he sat down beside you. He didn’t dare get under the covers with you. Mustering up the courage to say something, you asked, “Why do you wear so many suits?”

You could make out the faint tremble of his body as he silently laughed at your question. “Out of all the things you could ask, that’s what you wanna know?”

“It’s a valid question.”

“I suppose so.” There were two thumps as he kicked his shoes off, then his legs lifted, stretching out in front of him on the bed. “I just like wearing ‘em.”

“No other motives?”

“Nope,” he said, popping the p. “Plus, I mean, I don’t think I should come into work looking like I just rolled out of bed.”

That drew a small laugh from you. “Well, your hair kind of looks the part.”

“I believe it’s fashionable to have messy hair.”

“If Miles had messy hair when he went into work, I don’t know how kindly his boss would take to it.”

“Miles is bald,” he retorted, making you both burst into laughter.

When your laughter died down and you were left in a soothing silence, you could just barely make out Alex turning his head to look down at you. “Go to sleep,” he murmured. “I’ll be here when you wake up.”

That comforted you more than words could ever describe.

•••••

“You fucking bitch!” James yelled, lunging for you.

You were back in that accursed dress, and you didn’t know why. You were back in the main lobby, once again a part of the party, except everyone else was gone and it was just you and James. The lobby had become a sparring ring as you ducked and dodged each of James’ jabs; his hands felt more like the claws from crane machines, attempting to mercilessly dig into your skin and pull you closer. Much like the prizes in the machines, though, you evaded him every time.

“James, please!” you shouted. “Let’s talk about this!”

“I fucking knew there was something between you and him. I fucking knew it!”

“Please, just leave me alone!” Your cries fell on deaf ears. As you ran, you stepped on the bottom of your dress and tripped yourself, tumbling to the floor. You tried to scramble back up, but James was already on top of you, straddling you and squeezing your throat. You clawed at him, your nails digging into his flesh, but it did nothing.

Keeping one hand wrapped firmly around your neck, he reached down with the other and pulled a pocketknife from the pocket of his trousers. Your eyes widened in fear, and you let out choked screams as he flicked the blade out, only lifting his hand to drive the cold metal into your throat.

You shot up in Alex’s bed, gasping for air and clawing at your throat, fending off hands that weren’t there. You felt for blood; there was none. It took your eyes a few seconds to adjust to the dark room, and a few seconds longer for it to register it had all been a dream. You ran a hand through your hair as your breathing finally began to slow, although you could still feel your heart hammering against your ribcage, threatening to break free of the confines that were your body.

You looked over, expecting to see Alex, but he wasn’t there. Light slipped through the crack beneath the bathroom door, and the levels of anxiety that had been rising at the thought of not even having him for comfort quickly began to lower. You figured all you could do was sit and wait until he returned.

A couple of minutes later, he emerged from the bathroom. Before he turned the light off, you could make out his clothes and realised he was still wearing what he had been before, making you wonder if he planned to change at all that night. Probably not. He looked over at you, and concern immediately coated all of his features at the state you were in. Even in the darkness of his room, he could tell you were pale as a ghost, and despite having calmed down for the most part, he could just barely make out the fear in your eyes.

He walked back over to his side of the bed and sat beside you, not once letting his eyes leave yours. “D’you wanna talk about it?” he asked quietly. You hesitated before shaking your head, and he nodded, not saying anything else.

You both sat in silence, much as you had before you’d fallen asleep, but this one felt much more tense and awkward. The nightmare was (understandably) still gnawing at your mind, and with it, the things James had actually accused you of. Both you and Alex. Keeping your head down and staring at the blanket, you finally asked, “Is what James said about you … true?”

You heard him shift, then sigh. “Is this really what we’re gonna talk about?”

“Alex.”

“Do you want the truth?”

You lifted your head to look at him, and he was staring dead at you. You wondered if he’d looked away at all since he’d sat down. “Yeah,” you answered quietly.

He nodded and let out another sigh, finally turning his head to look away. He stared down at the blanket instead, reaching up and toying with his gold chain. Did he mean to sleep with that, too? “In some ways, yeah, he was right.” That made your heart twist in a way you weren’t used to. Had you wanted him to be right?

“What do you mean?”

“I stare at you. I always go out of my way to speak to you. I invited you here, when you’re not even a journalist. You were just … the girl that took my order. But you’ve always been so much more than that.”

Your face paled for what felt like the millionth time that night. “What?”

“I guess I’m kind of obsessed with you.” His fingers stopped, having tangled themselves up in his chain. “More than kind of,” he finally added. “I’m proper mad for you.”

For a long time, neither of you said anything. Alex remained silent, patiently waiting for your response- and what he expected to be a swift rejection- and you sat there, trying to figure out how to respond. You didn’t want to reject him; not at all. It was easy to reject James because you knew you didn’t feel anything for him, and now you were certain you never would. But … Alex?

If you were being honest with yourself (again, you did so hesitantly), he had been the highlight of every shift since he’d started frequenting the café you worked at. You always looked forward to seeing him, even if your interactions were limited and never crossed the border of politeness. You’d always been intrigued by him, wanting to get your hands on those documents of his and see his mind laid out on paper. Plus, his innate awkwardness was kind of nice, considering you were equally as awkward most of the time. He looked assured, confident, but the moment he started speaking, that seemed to go out the window.

“Your silence is making me nervous,” he mumbled, snapping you out of your internal debate. His fingers had resumed their movements, and if he fidgeted any harder, you were convinced he’d yank his chain off.

You took a moment to respond. “Why me?” was the only thing you could think to say.

He nodded, though, as if to reassure you it was a valid question. But then he said, “Why not you?” His gaze finally found yours again. “You’re always so nice to everyone, even the pricks that don’t deserve it. You’ve got the cutest smile and the sweetest laugh, and when I hear you speak, I’m convinced I’m listening to a congregation of angels.” Slowly, hesitantly, his free hand found yours, his thumb lightly pressing into your palm. “Why not you?”

You weren’t sure how to respond. Finally, slowly, you asked, “Can we … I don’t know … kiss or something?”

A breathy chuckle escaped him. “Or something?” he echoed, clearly amused.

Your cheeks flared red with embarrassment. “Look, I’ve never done this and I-��

He shut you up with the kiss you’d asked for. His lips were hard, almost desperate, against yours, like a man in the desert finally finding water. His hand slipped from yours and instead curled around the base of your head, his fingers slipping into your hair as he pulled you closer. For a first kiss, you thought this was pretty stellar- no pun intended.

His mouth left yours and forged a warm trail across your jaw, then onto your neck. His breath was warm against your skin, and his teeth lightly nipped every so often, as if to keep you on your toes. “You’ve never done this before?” he mumbled against you.

You shuddered at the sensation it gave you and nodded. “Is that bad?”

He planted one last kiss against your neck before lifting his head to look down at you. His expression softened. “Course not. If anything, I like being your first.”

“Why?”

“Because it means no one else has touched you.” He kissed you again, somehow harder than before, and slowly pushed you down onto your back, his desire growing untamable and his mind growing cloudier. His kisses followed the same trail he’d made before, except they didn’t stop there; they moved down to your collarbone, his fingers hooking around the neckline of your tee and tugging it down so he could kiss more of your skin. Your whole body suddenly felt uncomfortably warm, and you knew it wasn’t a matter of temperature.

He readjusted his position so he was on his hands and knees, holding himself up above you. “I need you to tell me if this is okay,” he said quietly. “If you want me to stop, I will in an instant. I’m not going to fulfill my desires at the expense of your comfort.”

“It’s okay,” you said, a little too quickly. You weren’t exactly being coy about how much you wanted whatever he was about to do to you. He could sense your excitement and offered you a small smile, kissing your lips one last time before heading downwards. In the back of your mind, you wondered if it was stupid or crazy (or both) to do something so intimate with the person you’d only just confessed to; at the same time, though, you couldn’t care. Alex Turner, arguably one of the most attractive people you’d ever met, was attracted to you. You were going to ride off of that high and let it cloud your judgment for days.

You were snapped out of the trance you were in by the feeling of him pulling down your joggers. Despite it being dark and making most everything difficult to see, his eyes still widened at the sight of your underwear and the current state it was in. Your cheeks flushed.

His hands crept up to the band of your underwear and tugged, tugged, tugged until it was off of you completely. “Open your legs for me,” he murmured, pushing your legs back so your knees were in the air. You did what you were told, parting your thighs and allowing him to see your center in full. His grip on your thighs tightened a little, and he began to press kisses against your inner thighs, slowly working his way closer and closer. Your hands anxiously crumpled and smoothed out the fabric of your shirt.

After what felt like ages (you were extremely close to telling him to get on with it already), you felt his tongue press against your clit, slowly swiping up and leaving as soon as it had arrived. “Fuckin’ hell,” he breathed, ducking his head back down for more. You thought he’d maybe intended to be slow at first, but if he had, that seemed to go way out the window the second he tasted you. His tongue swirled against your clit, lapped eagerly at it, and on more than one occasion, he sucked it into his mouth, making your legs twitch and your thighs clamp around his head, locking him in place. The entire time, you were moaning, and there were points where you thought he was, too.

Rarely did his tongue delve inside of you; he focused the vast majority of his attention on your clit, making you twitch and writhe on his bed. That small voice in the back of your head was still in denial that any of this was even happening; maybe it was all some crazy wet dream. Getting eaten out by the man that visited your café daily and had invited you to the fucking moon was certainly not on your bingo card this year. Still, despite those nagging doubts, the pleasure you felt slowly building up inside of you was all too real.

“Alex,” you whined, “I think I might-”

“I know, princess,” he murmured, the vibrations of his voice making your hips buck. “Just relax for me.”

It was as if your body was completely under his command; your thighs did loosen around his head, but it was only momentary, and the second his tongue flicked against your clit from a certain angle, they tensed up again. His fingers began to absentmindedly massage your thighs as his mouth worked wonders on you.

You wondered if he knew you were coming before you knew, because only a few seconds before the final wave of pleasure crashed against you, the speed of his tongue increased. Your hips pressed up against his face, and even with how dark the room already was, your vision was getting darker and you thought you’d black out with how intense your orgasm was. His tongue slowed, but didn’t depart from your center until your hips finally came back down to the mattress and your body stilled.

His head lifted, and you looked at him, feeling utterly exhausted despite not doing a thing. Seeing how tired your orgasm had made you, he just smiled and pressed a kiss to your inner right thigh. “How did I do?”

“Oh my God,” you breathed. He laughed. “Do you think they heard?”

He seemed to genuinely ponder on that for a moment or two before shrugging. “Let’s hope our beloved Mr. Schwartz did.”

“I might be more embarrassed if he did.”

He slowly rose from his bed and walked around, heading for the bathroom. “I’ll be right back,” he said softly, “just gonna wash my face.” You wondered if he was reassuring you because of the nightmare you’d had, even if he didn’t know of its contents. This line of thinking was only solidified when he left the door open. You could hear the sink running, as well as the occasional splash.

You forced yourself to pull your underwear and joggers back on, getting comfortable again beneath the blanket. After about a minute, Alex came back out of the bathroom and rejoined you in the bed. He looped his arms around your waist and pulled you snugly against his frame, burying his face into your hair. Without giving it much thought, you shifted to fit better against him, your left cheek pressed against his chest as your right arm draped over his torso. “Thank you,” you finally mumbled.

“For what?” You liked being able to feel his chest rumble beneath you as he spoke.

“For inviting me here.”

His thumb began to rub comforting circles against your back. “You were the first person I thought of,” he said quietly. It was the same thing he’d told you when he’d first invited you. At some point, you fell asleep in his arms, and your heart felt full.

•••••

tags: @elexnorislingtxn / @edandmollydeservebetter / @sagegreensimmr / @not-a-big-slay

#alex turner #alex turner x reader #tranquility base hotel and casino #tbhc era #arctic monkeys #fanfic #alex turner x you #alex turner x y/n

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pettypuppy-jonghyun · 1 year

Text

Marriage Life | Bang Chan

Summary: married life with husband!chan, also have a baby girl (unexpectedly)

Warnings: made in 2020 lol

Notes: female!reader, Chan and reader married for a year

A promise is a promise. Until the end of this life and more, I will always be with you. I love you.

You smiled softly at the picture of your wedding day, the soft words whispered to you from your husband were running through your mind. It made you snuggle closer to the little one in your arms.

"Guess who's coming home tonight?" You say to the sleeping child, rocking them slowly. Those words even made your heart flutter, the happiness of seeing your husband again strong. Though it hadn't been as long as other days, you felt like you needed to be near him once more.

Today was the anniversary of your marriage. It wasn't more than a year ago had you finally tied the knot, but the strength in your love made it seem like it had been a lot longer. There was a lot that tore at you both during that year, but it eventually came together in the end. As long as you both worked at it, the world bent to your ways.

A precious baby was not on our list, truthfully. With the stress of your husband's job, including your own, you weren't thinking of having a kid so soon. But the unplanned things seemed to be thrown at you two often; another task you two tackled together. You came around to the idea of having a baby, even more so when you decorated the house together.

As you cuddled the baby closer to you, sitting tiredly on the couch, you closed your eyes and remembered the days you spent preparing the baby's room. They were often weekends when you both had off. If not it was late night week days, takeout sitting on the floor that didn't have carpet for awhile, you both held food in one hand with a paint roller in the other.

There was more paint on your body than the wall. Your husband often would go over your spots with the pastel paint because of everything you missed. Eventually you just painted the trim as he rolled, singing along to songs you played on the speaker. It was a cute and romantic time for the newlyweds you were.

Eventually, the room had come together. Monsters Inc characters were around the room, in forms of stickers and even the bed spread for the crib. You both were entirely proud of the outcome and shared pictures with everyone who asked. A great gender neutral room for your baby, one at the time you hadn't known was to be your baby girl.

You opened your eyes at the brief sound of your daughter turning about. You smiled down at her, moving the soft tendrils of hair that stuck to her skin. After contemplating, you decided to place her in her room to finish her nap. She wouldn't be up for awhile and you planned to finish cleaning.

You placed a sweet kiss on her small hands before leaving. Just as you were to head to the kitchen to clean, the lock to the front door turned. Instead of being rational and moving to check it out, you stayed in place and stared at the door.

Chan walks through the door, pulling his black hood off his head. He looks up, noticing you staring at him and half smiles awkwardly. He closes the door and stares back.

"What?"

"I was supposed to surprise you..." He drifts off, grimacing slightly.

You started to laugh at him, walking over to your husband and placing your arms around his neck. "Surprise? When I knew you were coming?"

Chan chuckles as well and leans down for a kiss. "I was informed by a little birdie that you were out shopping with your best friend all day. I was planning on coming home and cleaning myself up."

You snuggled closer to him, feeling content to be in his arms. "Mhhh, well, the baby was a bit cranky today. Hasn't seen her dad in awhile, that might be the problem."

Chan smirks down at you, noticing how you ignored his mention of 'surprising' you. You weren't a huge fan of surprises and would not have them as much as possible. He knew this all too well.

"I intended for a dinner date with my lovely wife." He leans down again, his lips tenderly capturing yours and giving you his heart. "If you get ready first, I'll let you have as much time as you want."

You needed that deal. Baby throw up, countless diapers, half cleaning day, and the humidity of the outdoors turned you into something else.

"Deal. Date night it is."

You release him, quickly turning for your shared room. A smack to your behind had you squealing and turning around. "Bang Chan I swear to God-"

His finger was placed over his smirk. "Shh, darling. The baby is sleeping. Better go before you lose your chance to get ready."

You raced for your room. You soaked in the chance of feeling refreshed after a long day. Despite being tired, not once were you upset over it. Just another long day, one that was still full of joy and great memories with your daughter. Even your best friend managed to see you come from your den, a place you were hiding since the baby was born. It felt nice.

Yet, you weren't going to give up this chance. It was going to be a continuing sweet day as you were both able to sneak a chance for a date. Of course, your darling girl was tagging along too.

When you came out of the room, you were half surprised to see Chan cuddling your daughter in his arms as she wiggled aimlessly. She didn't seem uncomfortable, but definitely wanted to move and wiggle in his arms. The whole while he stared at her like she was an angel from heaven, blessed by the Lord himself and given to the humble humans.

"Look at you cuties," you say, flattening your hands behind you as you leaned down to his height on the couch. "I'll take her and you can get ready, babe."

Chan gives you a hesitant look. "Five more minutes? I want to hold you both before I leave."

You blinked. "Leave for the shower?"

He nods. "It's very far away."

You sigh but agree anyway, loving how cuddling and nice he felt. His free arm wrapped around you as you both looked at your daughter. Though her eyes were closed, you saw a beautiful girl that looked identical to her father. It warmed your heart and you snuggled further into his arms.

"I love you," he whispers. "I will always be with you guys."

(2020)

#bang chan #bang chan fluff #chan fic #skz bang chan #skz chan #skz fiction #skz imagine #chan imagine #chan fluff #skz scenarios #stray kids imagine #stray kids chan #stray kids drabble

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elioslover · 1 year

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Going for Gold. (GRAMMYS)

Just a little meet-cute on the Grammy's red carpet. I'm thinking this could turn into a couple parts... maybe... idk. But I love how this turned out anyways :)

Warnings: Use of she/her (non-descriptive though).

Word Count: 1.2k

Part 2 / Part 3 / Other Writing

---

The flustered flashes of stark, shimmering camera’s coming from left and right, blinding and blurring his vision, eyes darting back and forth as the mass of people in front of him called out in competitive coos for his attention. He worked with desperate determination to remain still, to stick to his poses, tune out the hornet’s nest of leeching photographers, and under no circumstances, should he squint.

Seconds felt like minutes, which might as well have been hours. With each mounting moment, fear riddled its way to the core of his chest, questioning if he looked like a fool, was his hair alright, his outfit properly fitted? And before he was completely swallowed by the tornado of sensory overload, goosebumps pricking up at the back of his neck, he was plucked from natural disaster, ushered further along the carpet, away from the buzzards of cameras, slipping further into the scattered crowd of the elegantly-garbed guests in attendance.

All in their own heads, people scurried amongst one another, ducking, and weaving in attempts to avoid trampling dress-trains, displacing gems, and jewels, keeping their hairdos intact. He remained glued to his publicist’s side, seeking coherence within this sea of crazed confusion. He was waved forward, trailing along the velveted carpet, joining in the collective of avoidance tactics, almost crashing straight into a short, disheveled man who seemed not to notice, disappearing in an instant. It was only when he was stood directly across from an interviewer- draped in satin blue, extending a microphone his way- that he returned to reality, a camera suddenly coming to focus, and he wondered, had it been there the entire time?

The interviewer was already mid-greeting, and he scolded himself for such distraction, focusing extra hard on the words sent his way, waiting his turn to return the greeting and express thanks for being asked how his evening was going so far. A sudden flash- not that of a camera, but of a silver, shimmering dress- out of the corner of his eye tore his gaze before he could stop himself. The owner of the floor-length gown was bobbing between the wave of tuxedo’s, floating in and out of view as he tried with anxious desperation to bring her into fully fledged focus. From what he could confirm, her eyes flared brighter than the flashes that caused her dress to flicker, and her smile was swallowing her cheeks whole, crinkling at the corners of her brows.

Like the snap of a finger, another question was sent his way, and he lost her to the tides. When he finally had the chance to redivert his attention to finding her, she was long gone, and he was left to be lured back into the fixated conversations of fashion, music, and the appearances of other stars. Tediousness would best describe the motions moving from one corner of bellowing and bitching to the other, and he longed for the seat decorated with a label of his name, the dimmed lights and clapping of hands, for the proper celebration. “Last one,” paired with a pat on the back was his saving grace, and a burst of enigmatic energy took him by complete surprise. He answered the questions more animatedly, made more eye contact, and was more than happy to show off his jewelry for the pleasure of the viewers at home.

“Hey, you!” a familiar face greeted as he rewardingly reached the carpet’s finishing line, and he was happy to be warmly wrapped within the bubble of a fellow nominee. It was nearing the time of dropping formalities and moving the party indoors, the slow ushering of guests stirring up nearby. He lingered in conversation, the desire to rush disappearing, and in hindsight, he was more than grateful for that, because like the breech of a blue whale, the owner of the shimmering silver dress- completely preoccupied in conversation with the middle-aged woman walking alongside her- was heading his direction.

His breath became trapped between his chest and throat as she floated by, looking straight ahead. And as her bare back became all of her he could see, the air gushed out from between his lips, a thirsty thump in his head. He felt an odd omen of loss, fearing it would be the last time he saw her face. The so-called departed anxiety had returned tenfold, anchoring its place in his heart, but with what many- including himself- may define as great luck, a slender, sterling bracelet sneakily slipped from her wrist, cascading down her dress before settling on the carpet with satisfaction. A satisfaction he shared as his feet mindlessly moved him forward, a puppy her heels, bending down to grab the bracelet, balanced between his fingers as his free hand reached out and gently tapped her shoulder.

Stopping in her tracks, lips parted and eyed widening as she tilted her neck to acknowledge the stranger. Standing before her, he suddenly felt rather silly. Peering down at her as she turned and looked up at him expectantly. A soft frown settling between his brows, only gesturing her to look down at his still splayed-out palm, her bracelet sitting so sweetly in the center. Her confusion switched to realization, then straight to mortification for managing to misplace her only accessory of importance. Muttering ‘fuck’, she peered up at him, blinking bashfully.

He only smiled down at her goofily, hoping that in some way it would reassure her. And it seemed to, her shoulders sinking back down, devoid of shame, suddenly substituted with curiosity. His eyes reflected the distant flashes, curls perfectly settled, daintily dotted freckles, dimples deep, and surely he could see the blush blotching up at her cheeks. She reached out to receive her retrieved treasure, lashes fanning as her eyes widened when he gently grasped her wrist, mindfully wrapping the bracelet back where it belonged before clipping the clasp into place, his hands lingering atop her skin for as long as she was willing to permit.

And now, seconds felt nothing like hours, they were gone before they came, and he was lettering her arm go. Still looking over at him shyly, she offered a more than grateful thank you, twisting at the bracelet timidly before sounds of excitement struck her senses back to attention, and she slipped back into reality. So, she sent her curious contemplation his way for a moment longer, her ears tingling at the sight of his cheeks warming under her watch, before softly waving - bracelet on display for all - and turning back to her attendee, who was waiting aside patiently. They re-synced and continued their pursuit of the event’s entrance. But just before being swallowed by the sea of stars once more, she looked back over her shoulder, and he knew now with certainty that they were surely sharing the same air of intrigue.

His hopes for the evening swirled and switched from ending with a shined and polished award, to seeking out the owner of the runaway bracelet. When it came to winning, gold was good- it was great, but suddenly silver sounded, so, so much better.

#Harry grammys #harry styles one shot #harry styles imagine #harry styles x you #harry styles x reader #harry styles writing #harry styles blurb #harry styles fic #elioslover writing #elioslover #harry styles grammys

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sonic-gallery · 9 days

Text

Another World Ogiri August 2023 [What are Blaze and Silver doing...? ]

Please come home, master!

Two characters appear every month in surprising outfits and situations! Let's enjoy Ogiri together with illustrations that will make your imagination run wild!

This time, Blaze and Silver are back with a new look! High fighting ability and awesomeness that are unbecoming of a maid or butler! What kind of enemy will these two fight against, relying on each other and working together?

What kind of lines or narration would you use?

You can style it based on the atmosphere and world view of the two of you in the game, or you can create a bold arrangement! In the example, it seems reliable enough to turn away any unwanted customers... Even such free and interesting stories are OK!

Please enjoy it and tweet with the tag "#Isekai Ogiri" on Twitter ♪

We will introduce the good ones in a reply from Sonic's official Twitter account.

We are looking forward to your fun Ogiri posts!

Act8: “Reunion of the Magical Princess”

＜＜Gashaaan! >>

A large number of sharp pieces of window glass are scattered on the hotel's luxurious scarlet carpet...!

The monster's strong arms didn't stop as it tore down the glass wall of the second-floor atrium with all its might... It gouged through the floor, grabbed a white cafe table that had been thrown up, broke it into pieces, and headed towards a point. I threw it.

＜＜Dogagagaga! >>

The terrifying throw of destruction seemed to crush the poor waiter who was near the kitchen...but all of it was blocked by a psychic barrier that shone in cobalt blue, and it shattered into pieces. Masu.

"A monster that obstructs business! I'll eliminate it!"

It was Silver, a silver hedgehog with psychic powers, who screamed and his whole body was filled with psychic green light.

The monster that stands in the way is a giant golem that looks up at you and is made of a collection of toys and junk. The moment when Silver, his black garcon apron flapping in the air, tried to wield his "power" towards the monster...!

＜＜Dooooooong! >>

This time, the crimson flame arrow grazed Silver's side and hit the monster. Blow away that giant body.

After a roar, the maid descended to protect Silver while brushing off a veil of flames, turned around with her elegant black silk apron skirt, and spoke to him without even moving an eyebrow.

"Run, waiter. This is no place for ordinary people."

...Silver is not amused by being suddenly interrupted and treated like an amateur.

"You're a maid, aren't you? What on earth are you!" "The one who protects the weak from evil monsters... is the Magic Princess Blaze!"

"Magic, Koujo...?"

Blaze jumps towards the monster, leaving behind Silver, who becomes stunned for a moment. Silver couldn't resist protesting as he hurriedly chased after him.

“Who is the weak one?”

The fight against monsters is only a defensive battle.

The flame wielded by Blaze does indeed hit the monster, but it only scrapes the surface of the monster's body...Then, the fragments are immediately pulled together by a mysterious force, coalescing and returning to their original state. It is.

"First of all, I came here with the intention of doing an undercover investigation as a maid, but I didn't expect to be suddenly involved in a battle..."

Blaze, who can't move as much as she wants in her maid uniform, can't help but click her tongue.

``I was also asked to be a bodyguard at this coffee shop, and I became a waiter waiting for a monster, but I didn't find him as good as this.''

Silver agrees that he is an unexpectedly strong enemy.

"I mean, this store provides uniforms, right? Why did you bring your maid uniform?" "I-is that so? Emmy told me to wear this..."

Blaze flinched at the unexpected remark and blushed as he pinched the frills on his shoulders...but in the meantime Blaze turned around and said this to Silver.

"Hey, don't move around in front of me! You're getting in the way and I can't concentrate my firepower!" "Attack isn't working, right? First, find the weak point that triggers recovery!"

In the end, an argument begins instead of a battle. And the monster didn't miss that chance...

<< Zugon! Dogogo...! >>

The monster slowly...gathered its strength deeply, raised both of its fists, and fired a powerful blow toward the ceiling. The impact pierced the ceiling on the coffee shop floor and the ceiling on the floor above, all the way to the roof of the hotel, causing a major collapse.

A huge waterfall of frighteningly heavy rubble attacks Blaze and the others, increasing its muddy flow as it falls. When they both looked up, it seemed like it was too late...

The next moment!

"Huh!"

Silver instantly jumps over Blaze's head, spreads his arms out as if to protect her, and deploys a psychic barrier...! After deflecting the incoming collapse, Blaze uses it as a counterattack to repel the attack of the monster that attacked Silver from within the dust, and at the same time blows away the surrounding dust with explosive flames.

...This is a moment of perfect cooperation with no compromises. After catching their breath in a close call, the two finally opened their mouths.

"My body moved on its own...I don't feel like I'm meeting you for the first time." "...Ah."

Then, as he regained his stance and restored his body, Blaze continued with a serious look on his face as he looked at the monster approaching the two of them.

"I made two mistakes. The first was that I underestimated the enemy and came here without being fully prepared."

Still in the same position, this time I continued to look into Silver's eyes.

"Waiter. Please give me 20 seconds..." "I don't mind...but before that, can I ask you the second question?"

After a moment's hesitation, Blaze answered with a resolute look on his face.

"Secondly, I was disrespectful and disrespectful to my comrades who I should be relying on. That..."

Blaze interrupts him by saying he's sorry, and Silver agrees to Blaze's request.

"It's okay Blaze, we're both good friends! It's okay. I'll hold out for 20 seconds or 200 years! ...So, would you like one for me too?" "...?"

"My name is Silver."

The next moment, Blaze is immediately engulfed in scorching flames. With her eyes closed and her mind concentrating...Silver senses that she is trying to control some great power.

"Silver, thank you......Haaaaaaaaa!"

Blaze is about to unleash a blow that will change the situation, knowing the risk of exposing his defenseless side. That expectation and trust inspired Silver.

"I'll do it! Ha!"

Silver deploys full power of psychic energy in all directions. Hold the rubble all over this floor and prevent the monster from restoring, while at the same time hitting everything with psychic attacks to keep it in check...! I will protect Blaze.

However, fighting for a long time while protecting immovable objects is disadvantageous. Since you have to endure every attack that comes your way without avoiding it, you end up in a very poor situation.

Silver's plan was to survive the attack by not allowing it to attack, but the monster also seems to have noticed the plan and intensifies its attack.

What a long time 20 seconds is! How long can we hold out? Just when Silver's knees are about to fall due to repeated bullets...!

＜＜Doooooooo! ! >>

As the explosion of loud flames spread, Blaze, enveloped in such dazzling flames that it was impossible to keep his eyes open, finally released his power... and blew away the monster. It's ready.

"Aaah...! Mysterious sun, respond to the power of my flame...!"

The seven jewels on Blaze's pochette begin to contain flames and grow brighter one by one as her power grows.

Just when the monster was about to make a desperate attack with all its might, all of its power imploded on her...Blaze declared the execution of great power.

"Magical Princess Blaze! Burning Unlimited Mode! Haaaaa!"

Blaze wears multiple layers of flame in seven colors and transforms into a pillar of scorching heat. For a moment, huge wings of flame spread across her back, but they immediately dispersed and condensed into her outstretched arms...! It becomes a tremendous torrent of flame and pours out towards the monster.

"Haaaaaa!" "Haaaaaa!"

The monster also tries to resist by taking a defensive stance, but Silver supports Blaze from behind as he is pushed by the recoil of the flames, increasing its power, and he can no longer withstand it.

Everything that formed the monster was blown away, and the energy body at its center caused a huge explosion.

<< Zudoooon! >>

A huge roaring explosion that could be heard all the way to an island in the sky. The monster finally disappeared.

"Ciao, chao!"

After the dust from the explosion finally dissipated... In the remains of the monster's explosion, there was a small Chao of light crying.

The true nature of the monster was Chao's residual thoughts.

As Blaze and the others watch, the Chao of Light eventually finds a hole in the dilapidated floor, and as if realizing something, it happily steps inside.

"......?" "this is!?"

When the two of them follow Chao, they discover that they are in the basement of a coffee shop...and beneath the floor is a lush green garden with a clear stream.

The Chao of Light then stepped inside, looked around, and with a satisfied smile, disappeared into a pale light. I see...the two of them said.

"When building this coffee shop, you blocked the Chao's home..." "That monster was a mass of grudges from the Chao's who wanted to return to their hometown."

The two of them, who have come to understand the circumstances of the incident, look relieved, but sigh at the devastation surrounding them. The area has been completely destroyed, and there is no trace of that wonderful interior.

"Well, the incident has been resolved for the time being...but the store was destroyed in a spectacular manner, so we have to clean it up."

Blaze responded in a calm manner while smiling bitterly at Silver's suggestive tone.

"Okay. What should I do?"

When the two of them looked up at the light shining in from above, what they saw through the hole in the collapsed ceiling was a dazzling blue sky cut out beautifully like a painting. It was filled with clear light, as if reflecting the brightness of their hearts.

"One month later..."

After major renovations, this shop, which connected the mysterious Chao garden as an open cafe area, has been renovated as ``Chao Garden,'' a maid-style cafe that combines formality with a Chao-friendly warmth, and has gained a great reputation. Ta.

While Silver and Blaze are busy helping rebuild the store, an unexpected visitor appears. As soon as they saw each other, they stiffened without even serving customers...

"S-Sonic...!? Are you Sonic!?" "Why are you dressed like that...and us too!? What the heck is going on!?"

The moment they saw Sonic, Blaze and Silver regained their memories.

"Hey! You guys...!"

Sonic was also surprised by this, but Tails noticed that at this time, the chaos emeralds that Sonic and his friends were holding, the jewelry of Blaze's tail, and the silver pendant all glowed faintly at the same time. I didn't miss it. While Tails was deep in thought, the two of them searched through their memories before and after the incident.

"The moment I came to this world under the guidance of the Sol Emerald, I was caught up in that light."

Blaze said while stroking the seven jewels on her pochette. Marin, who came with him, wonders what to do.

"I was fighting at Eggman's base just moments ago. I was trying to prevent some kind of weapon from activating..."

Silver worries that he can't remember properly.

"In any case, how did the two of you manage to regain your memories?"

Tails took out his proud ``energy sensor'' and explained it to Sonic.

＜＜Beep beep...＞＞

"I knew it! Blaze's tail jewelry and silver pendant are mutated Chaos Emeralds! Just like ours."

Tails explains that from the wavelength of the energy emitted, they are definitely Chaos Emeralds, which is why they definitely glowed when the two regained their memories.

“As a phenomenon, the Chaos Emeralds have the power to resist this strange phenomenon.Although one is not enough, there are several nearby, and one of them has the original memory... I think that's the condition for resurrection.'' ``There certainly doesn't seem to be any problem thinking that way. As expected, Tails!''

Tails gets shy after being praised by Sonic, and Blaze and Silver also respond.

“I hear that emeralds sometimes attract each other with a mysterious power in times of crisis.I was forced to have this one from Emmy because it was the guidance of the stars...This is also one of those powers. Maybe it's Tsuna.' ' ``Certainly. It's so easy to gather four of them like this...? Huh? Isn't it strange? If that's the case, how come Sonic and Tails, who only have one each, are safe?'' Did you?”

At the obvious question, the three people's eyes focused on Tails.

"That's... At the moment the incident occurred, Sonic and I were together, each holding a Chaos Emerald. I think that's why it didn't work from the beginning... , I guess. Sorry, I can't be sure..."

Tails was starting to lose confidence as he continued to make deductions, but Sonic assured him with a smile.

"In other words, it's because of Tails that I'm safe, and vice versa, right? Isn't it great that we're the same? This is it!"

Blaze and Silver agree while looking at Tails, who is confused and extremely shy.

"Hmm. At this point, it would be best to have a better interpretation of the details of truth or falsehood. The most important thing is..." "It means that we have found a way to restore our friends!"

"YES! That's right!" "That's right!"

Tails finally regains his composure and starts proposing strategies to his friends.

``...I'll give the detector to Blaze and Silver as well. Now let's divide up and find the friends who have Chaos Emeralds and revive them! And in the end, we'll collect 7 Chaos Emeralds. I’m sure it will be your trump card.”

"I understand. I agree with your strategy. I'll leave the rest behind." "I understand. My Sol Emerald also says we should do the same."

Blaze agrees as he strokes the Sol Emerald, which trembles as it emits a pale flame.

"It's getting interesting," Sonic said in his usual tone as he stood up, and the remaining three got ready to leave with fearless smiles on their faces.

"That Eggman guy. I don't know what he did, but we'll definitely hunt him down with our hands!"

Sonic and his friends took another step forward, and with a new hope in their hands, they took another step forward...!

#Sonic #Otherworld Comedy #Silver The Hedgehog #Blaze The Cat #Sonic The Hedgehog #Miles Tails Prower #Sonic Channel

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moviestarmartini · 2 months

Text

where she goes. — brahim díaz x reader.

tranquilita tu siempre te roba el show / una perversa le vo'a dar dembow / si se pone en cuatro i go where she goes.

summary: (based on this request) you slept with brahim full knowing he only did it to get over his ex. when he comes asking for more you decide to ignore him and disappear, full of pride. too bad he knows where to find you.

wc: 2.6k

warnings: yet again basic sentences in spanish (some i translated), nsfw (18+), stubborn mfs, alcohol consumption, prideful mfs, unprotected sex but what's new (not endorsing it!!!!), p in v, fingering, dom!brahim, he's a bit mean here whoops, spanking (nothing too extreme i promise), praise, aftercare, he's a lil shit here.

A/N: i stalled for a second but i'm so happy how this turned out !! thank you reina @thelvsickgirl for the request mwah mwah i hope you like it 🤍

now playing... where she goes by bad bunny

You stared at the messages in disbelief. You knew very well you were just a rebound, and though it was very well the best fuck of your life, you doubted if that was the case for him too. It was just your ego controlling your every thought, embarrassed you were the second option for him to come back to every time he found himself lonely. After not long consideration, you decided to listen to your pride and ignore the messages.

Brahim stared back at the blue gray check marks, noticing how you went online on and off but no typing. There was no true intention to reply, thus meaning you didn’t want to respond, and you wanted him to know that. The same sense of pride invaded the two of you. ‘Fine. If she can ignore me, I can ignore her back. Game on.’ and he ignored you ignoring the messages, chest puffed with toxic dignity.

But it wasn’t easy, not as much as he’d imagined. Each time he closed his eyes to rest, the ghost of your body haunted him, and he yearned to have your tits smothering his face once again as you bounced up and down the length of his cock. When he passed by the living room the carpet was still soaked in a stain remover from the red wine you spilled that night, the same one that had gotten you tipsy and stained your blouse, prompting you to remove it.

And then, as the situation escalated, he replayed it in the same exact way in his mind until he tore himself away from the thought and moved on. Moved on to the thought of what you were up to; if you were seeing someone else, someone that had your voice stuck in the back of your throat like he did.

Even some considerable time later, he just gave into the urges, the need to see your ass bouncing against his pelvis when he ordered you to get on all fours just to ram you from behind. He knew you well enough to know you were going to be at that club that night, so he sat and waited patiently, being a wingman to his own friends as he waited upon your arrival.

And God, it did not disappoint.

You sauntered in as if you walked into your own living room, the act was flawless as you stole gazes and forced them to look at you. But Brahim couldn’t help but smirk when he noticed you were only looking back at him. He watched as you hurriedly excused yourself from your group of friends and trotted over with those stiletto heels, sitting in the empty chair next to him.

“Stalking me now, aren’t we?” You muttered, calling the bartender over. You couldn’t even bother as Brahim raised his hand to catch his attention first.

“Un espresso martini para la señorita; lo agregas a mi cuenta.” ‘A espresso martini for the lady; add it to my tab’ The corner of your lip twitched as he knew exactly what you wanted. That also came true as he placed his hand on your knee, caressing a scar from the time you rolled down a hill when you were six.

“When are you giving me another chance, huh?” He inched closer, searching for your eyes. “I came all this way…” He thanked the bartender with a nod, giving you enough space to sip on your drink. “I surrender, okay?”

You laughed, not even knowing what type of war you found yourselves in. “Surrender to what? ¿Qué está pasando por esa cabecita tuya, Brahimi?” You hummed disinterestedly, taking a long sip before placing the glass down. But there wasn’t any type of humor in Brahim’s eyes, not even with the nickname. He leaned in closer, nose brushing against yours.

He seemed to straighten up and almost fix his attitude towards you, clearing his throat and brushing his hair back. “Can we… talk somewhere more private? My car, maybe?” He offered, eyes full of regret.

You convinced yourself for the past month or so you weren’t going to give in so easily. You knew it was just sex, all his compliments and excuses were the pathway straight into his bed, or his couch, or the kitchen counter. But there you were, gulping down the last of your drink before getting dragged out of there, hurriedly texting your friends.

You sat in his car, the air thick as the engine roared awake. “What was it that you wanted to talk about?” You turned to him, still playing hard to get. The act dissolved the second he crashed his lips in yours furiously. “Ay princesa…” He sighed against your lips, his hands messing up your hair. “I want to feel that pussy again.”

The nod you gave him was enough for the man next to you behind the wheel to break almost seven traffic laws on his way back to the apartment, and you squirmed on your seat, extremely turned on.

The walk to the elevator was fuzzy, but as soon as you got inside, he almost slammed you against the wall with the rough push, subsequently having his lips take yours. It was sloppy, his lips and surrounding areas tinting in your lipstick, hands exploring under your dress to the point you wondered if he’d gotten you naked entirely.

He was hungry, insatiable almost. When you reached his floor, the door wasn’t even closed, and you believed he knew how tightly you were wrapped around his finger. You stumbled inside to reach his living room couch, the same place where it all began a few weeks ago.

You sat in his lap, legs to either side of his body. His hands forced you to arch your back, clothes chests against each other. “Take off that dress. Keep the heels,” He ordered, pulling your hands away and letting you stand. He wanted a show, and you gave him just that. Your eyes didn’t leave his as you unzipped the little black item, letting it slowly slip down your body and pool at your feet. You brushed your hair to the side, giving him those eyes that chanted ‘slut me out!’ over and over again.

“Who’s been seeing you in those?” He pointed with his nose to the lacy items that dressed your body under the regular items. He parted his legs, his growing boner becoming more evident.

“You know I wear these to feel pretty.” You replied with equal sass, and he tutted, leaning back. “What?” He saw right through you, and that was only part of it, not the entirety. With no other reply he patted his lap, inviting you to sit in it again.

You knew better than to disagree, and as soon as you placed your legs on either side of his body, he captured your lips in his. The kiss was frenzied, he grabbed the plush of your ass and kneaded it. The groping made you grind on his lap, the excuse of a piece of fabric rubbing against his clothed boner.

Brahim broke the kiss, leaving you wanting more. But he kept you away, holding you tenderly by your jaw, but still squishing your cheeks a little. “Don’t lie to me, mamita,” He cooed, voice dripping with sweetness before a smack filled the air, knocking the air out of your lungs. “Who’s been seeing you in that lingerie?”

“No one, I swear!” You whined, writhing under another spank to your ass. “I kept wearing it in case I ran into you. I never got the courage to get on with someone else.” You heard a small laugh come from him, and sweet pecks soon placed at your chest.

“Was that so hard to admit?” Brahim brushed your hair back with the palm of his hand, almost petting you. “Too bad you were just a lil’ too stubborn to text me back, eh amor?” His nose brushed against your neck, now depositing the sweetest kisses down its length. His hands played with the clasp of your bra, and it brought small giggles to your slips that mixed in with the moans.

But the giggles didn’t last long as his hands cupped your breasts, massaging and squeezing them. “Fuck, I missed these,” He groaned, his lips applying sucktion on your shoulder. Surprised, your hands brushed the short strands in the back of his neck before tangling into the longer ones at the top.

“Eres mía, ¿oíste?” Once his hands left your breasts, his fingers brushed against the newly formed mark. You nodded, breath hitching when his fingertips descended down your torso, hand stuffing inside your panties. He hummed in satisfaction at your wetness, grazing lightly at your clit. His eyes dissected the way you could barely stay straight, sinking further into his clothed thighs. “That’s good, isn’t it?”

But the way he stared at you also meant he wanted a vocal answer, and with a trembling voice you reassured him, “So good, I swear,” His movements were painfully slow, until he moved his hand further down to tease your entrance. You nodded in consent, feeling two digits push inside. But there he was again moving slowly, taking his sweet time.

“I’m sorry, is that not enough?” It was as if he was making fun of your moans turning into whining between low chuckles. “Ride them. C’mon.” The situation itself already seemed bizarre, how you ran into him when you most wished you did, only for him to have you completely under his control. You didn’t question him, taking the free pass and allowing yourself to get off, hips rolling on the digits he pumped inside you. You threw your head back, moving upwards and back down again continuously, your slick soon gathering in his palm.

The moment he curled his fingers to hook against that ragged spot, heat rose up your body, stomach tickling. Your movements became frantic, eyes glassy as you began to crave that release… only for him to remove his hand from under you, leaving you speechless. He licked his fingers clean with such care, big puppy eyes looking up at you.

“Cum on my cock, please,” He guided your hand to squeeze the clothed bulge, shivering under your touch. You didn’t waste any time undoing the item, and he helped you out by sliding it— along with his underwear— to rest at his lower thighs. You licked your lips, watching the pink tip leak pre-cum, but decided on kissing him first, hand undoing the buttons of his black shirt.

But there wasn’t any time to fully remove the item as he rubbed his hard cock against your entrance, knocking the air out of your lungs. “Vamos, princesa.” He encouraged you to sink down the length, his other hand caressing your side. You looked up

at him, only to find his pair of eyes looking back fueled with passion.

That was enough motivation to check he was correctly lined up before sinking down. A groan in unison burst through the four walls, the grip of hands settling on your sides tightening. You hid your face in his neck, getting used to the stretch. Your bare chest against his own, and for a second you swore you could feel his heartbeat.

It didn’t take long for you to start bouncing up and down his length, wanting to finish off the job. You were going to grant his wish, the fluids already rolling down to soak the couch a little. He groaned, feeling that peculiar pulsing of your walls, his hands maintaining a hard grip on your waist.

“Don’t give up on me now, you’ve been doing so great.” Brahim praised, noticing how the build up had thrown off your rhythm. “Let me help.” He urged, positioning your bodies before he thrusted upwards. It was fast and fierce, your moans hitting a higher decibel as he tipped you off towards your orgasm.

But he didn’t stop, he barely slowed down to give you time to recover before going back to that relentless pace, your head dropping and resting against his shoulder blade. “Mírame” He demanded, his hungry eyes meeting your infatuated ones before he pulled you into a kiss, stopping his thrusts while fully inside you.

A sloppy makeout, tongues tangled, teeth clashing lightly every once in a while. His cock filled every crevice, his hands explored every inch while you finally removed the button up fully. Without even giving you a warning he switched, and you were under him. “La más bella de todo Madrid, eh my love?” He cooed, hands running down your sides as he took every inch displayed in front of him.

You couldn’t help but blush, scoffing a little. “Ponte en cuatro,” He asked so nicely you couldn’t decline, hearing how he took off his bottoms, giving you space to get on your hands and knees. Then you could feel him behind you again, giving your ass a light smack before he leaned down to kiss one of your buttcheeks.

A loud crack followed, and you gasped, looking back at him. “¿Enserio Brahim? This is the second pair! You can’t break things you didn’t pay for.” He tore the lacy thong to shreds easily, ripping it off your body. He only smiled sweetly, blowing you a kiss accompanied by a wink before he was back inside you, thrusting as if his life depended on it. The loud moans and groans— almost pornographic— filled the space once more. Your back arched as your arms gave out, the second release hitting you like a train.

Brahim couldn’t help but admire your figure as he hit it from the back, a small smile sneaking in from behind his parted lips. He leaned down and circled his arm around your hip to press two fingers on your perked clit, already stimulated enough. Your thighs shook, breath getting stuck in your throat. He had never been a selfish lover, and you knew he wanted you to cum again at the same time he filled you up to the brim.

“Fuck— fuck, that’s it, one more baby,” He praised as you came undone under him, your legs giving you. He pounded you into the cushions, kissing the back of your shoulder blades. The squeeze your pussy gave him was more than enough to tip him over the edge, glorified chants of your name overshadowed your whimpers.

In no time he had you cradled in his arms, holding you close against his chest. “Stay the night with me, please,” He nuzzled into your cheek, and you agreed between half lidded eyes.

You still left the following morning before he could wake up, knowing this was something still casual. He was still trying to get over his ex, and you were the closest person he could do that with; your convictions haven’t changed, even when he spent all night spooning you with his face buried in your neck.

“You’ve got something waiting on your desk,” One of your coworkers announced as you clocked in on Monday, the others giggling. Curious, you walked slowly to your space to find a bouquet of your favorite flowers and a black box with a pink satin bow.

You smiled at your coworkers innocently, sitting down to check what was inside the box. Your ears burned as your eyes fell upon the brand new lacy underwear. You closed the box without making much fuss to not attract any attention, checking the note resting on the outside.

‘ picked them myself so i can break them in peace.

see you friday, princesa.

— yours, BD. ‘

#i was going to post this later but i got too excited #𓈒ㅤׂ 𓇼✽ — writing !#brahim diaz #brahim diaz x reader #maybe i should start a bad bunny song fic series #who knows #football x you #football x y/n #football x reader #football smut #football fic

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aldbooks · 4 months

Note

A solstice where Lucien gets presents this time

My poor fox boy 🥺 We'll set this one a couple years in the future... you'll see why.

Lucien sat by the fire sipping his drink and watching the others open gifts just as he had every Solstice for the last five years. This year felt different though.

Things had finally begun progressing with Elain, if slowly. She had received his gift with a genuine smile for once and had even attempted to make small talk during dinner. As far as he was concerned, that was cause for celebration.

So it was that he sat here once again without a single present of his own to open and yet the smile he was currently wearing was not forced.

Just as the excitement began to wind down as the last of the gifts were passed around and opened, Nyx hoped down from his perch in Feyre's lap and tottered across the carpet towards him. He wasn't truly the boys uncle but that was the title Feyre had bestowed on him and hearing the little one shout "Uncky Lucy!" whenever he visited was too adorable for words, so he did not object.

Chuckling, Lucien set aside his glass and reached out to scoop the toddler up into his lap. It was then he noticed the tiny wrapped box in his hands which he thrust in Lucien's face.

Taken aback, all he could do was blink at it for a moment before pointing to himself. "For me?"

Nyx nodded and thrust it at him again.

With an unexpected surge of emotion, Lucien took the box from the boys hands and carefully tore off the paper. Inside was a crudely crafted ornament in the shape of a fox that had clearly been made by tiny, unpracticed hands.

"Did you make this?" He asked Nyx who nodded proudly.

"Aunty Lain helped!" he announced, beaming at his aunt who smiled at him before meeting Lucien's gaze.

Throat feeling suspiciously tight, Lucien cleared his throat and said, "Thank you Nyx," his eyes still on his mate. "It's beautiful."

The boy leaned in, cupping a hand next to his mouth and said in a loud whisper, "She also said to give you this-" then planted a sloppy kiss on his cheek that startled a laugh out of Lucien and earned a few scattered chuckles from he rest of the room.

Ruffling the boys hair before sending him back to his mother, Lucien met Elain's eyes across the room once more. A pretty blush stained her cheeks as she bit her lip, giving him a shy smile that he returned with a grin.

Yes, this year definitely felt different.

#lucien vanserra #elucien #This made me tear up a little #elain x lucien #elain and lucien

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sethcertified · 1 year

Text

「 SCREAM FOR YOU ! 」 . . . 📁 01

scream : billy loomis, stu macher

wrd count : 2.8k

⊹˚.⋆ synopsis . . . [name] gets a call from an unknown caller who isn't so unknown after all

⊹˚.⋆ starring . . . billy loomis, stu macher, & male reader

My room was practically pitch black. The only light that illuminated the space radiated from my TV screen. A stupid, cheesy slasher film was on. Although stupid, I couldn't help but be entertained from underneath the mountains of blankets that buried my body.

I was transfixed by the movie playing. Nothing mattered to me at that moment except whether the final girl who ran around her house like a headless chicken would escape the slasher's hands.

Which seemed increasingly unlikely! I mean he was right behind her, and she was clueless about his presence! I grumbled under my breath, cursing at the final girl's obliviousness as my hand raked the bottom of the popcorn bowl. All I could feel were the kernels and the smooth plastic of the bottom of the bowl.

I wanted to smash my head against the wall at the feeling. I had run out of popcorn already, and my movie wasn't even close to the climax; let alone, the finale!

I struggled to free myself from my prison of blankets. My limbs stretched out and tore each layer of blanket off one by one, yet it seemed the blankets covering my body were never-ending. It was like I was the pea from that one fairy-tale, smooshed by hundreds of mattresses.

Eventually, I was able to free myself from my cocoon of comfort. My legs felt numb as I swung them to the edge of my bed, and dug my toes into the course carpet that decorated my floor. With a wabble in my steps, I began to exit my room and stroll downstairs to the kitchen.

As I stepped into the hallway I noticed the light from my sister's open door pouring out onto the floor. What was she doing with her lights on at this time of night? With curious steps, I moved in front of her open doorframe to find Tatum perched on her vanity, applying makeup onto her face. I raised an eyebrow at the scene. Why would she possibly be putting on makeup at this time of night?

"What are you doing? It's like 1 am right now," I leaned against the frame as I crossed my arms.

Tatum turned to me with an eye roll, and half an eyelid covered in a bright blue eyeshadow, "Stu's coming over." I mouthed an 'Oh' at her words as I realized her intentions with the makeup. A sly grin stretched across my face, "Wear a condom. Don't want you getting pregnant on us at your age." She threw a hairbrush at me from her vanity as I laughed at the annoyed look she gave me, "Shut up!"

With a catch of the brush, I turned away from the bright room with a laugh and continued my way downstairs to the kitchen. As I took steps down the carpeted stairway, my thoughts trailed back to Tatum and Stu. Stu was a good friend of mine. He had been ever since he gave me a copy of 'It' on DVD in the 6th grade. He had recently started dating my sister which at first was incredibly awkward. Especially since I had been crushing on him since freshman year, but with it turning out that basically every other night I would find a shirtless Stu lingering around the house, the awkwardness slipped away. Seeing a hot guy shirtless was one thing. Seeing a hot guy shirtless in my house that I had a massive crush on something was another, and I would be damned if I didn't take advantage of the situation.

A guilty feeling sunk into my chest. What am I thinking? It's wrong for me to think of my sister's boyfriend in such a manner! What am I; a perv? I shouldn't be thinking those things about Stu even if he's one of the most beautiful men I've ever seen.

Stop it! I gave my arm a harsh pinch and hurried towards the kitchen. The faster I can finish making my popcorn the faster I can continue my movie and not think about Stu or Tatum.

I opened the pantry door diverting my gaze from shelf to shelf searching for the popcorn. The pantry was full of junk food, which I knew was the work of Dewey. It wasn't an uncommon sight to see Dewey munching on some sort of snack before he left for work. With some more digging, I eventually found my target and reached out to get it.

My movements; however, were interrupted by the sound of the phone ringing; blasting throughout the house. I quickly snatched the popcorn from its box before heading off to answer the phone in the room over. I threw the popcorn package onto the sofa as I leaned against the wall picking up the phone, "Hello, this is the Riley residence. [Name] speaking."

"Hello, [Name]."

I blinked a few times trying to process the voice. It was unlike anything I had heard before. The voice was hollow, almost sounding manufactured.

"[Name?]"

The repetition of my name brought me back from my mental space to reality. Collecting my composure, I apologized for my brief absence from the conversation, "Oh! Yes. Sorry. Who is this?"

"I don't know."

"You.. don't know?"

"I don't. Do you?"

I let out a small chuckle at the odd words leaving the unknown man's mouth, "Trust me with a voice like yours, I would've recognized you immediately. I don't know you, man. Sorry." I shrugged as I waited for the unknown voice to respond. The only thing I could hear was harsh breathing from the other side of the line.

"You do know me."

The response shocked me. What was this man getting at?

"I don't. I mean why would I lie to you about that?"

"Maybe you're naughty. Are you?"

My brows furrowed at the words as my mouth fell agape, "Naughty?"

"Are you a naughty boy, [Name]?"

My shoulders tensed up at the words. What a creep. I quickly hung up the phone, not letting the creepy man get another word out, and tried to shake off the conversation; however, it was the only thing my mind could focus on.

With a sigh, I picked up the package of popcorn that rested on the couch. I fiddled with the package nervously. Fiddling had always been a nervous habit of mine, and the creep on the phone had made it reemerge. I tried my best to focus on preparing my meal for the movie that awaited me upstairs and not the ominous ringing from earlier taunting my tense mind.

"[NAME]! I swear to god if you don't answer the phone I will come down there and claw you!"

The deafening sound of Tatum's screech from upstairs awoke me from the spaced-out state I had been in. My mind was so clouded by the creepy interaction I had failed to realize that the phone was actually ringing, and was not just a figment of my imagination.

I walked my way back to the phone leaving my popcorn alone. I took in a deep inhale of air to try and relieve my nerves. A phone call shouldn't have been freaking me out this much. Besides PTSD from a 2-minute at maximum phone call? That was pathetic!

I began to idly fiddle with my hands before picking up the phone. An uneasy feeling began to sink into my chest as I debated even suggesting a conversation with the unknown person on the other line.

"Hello, this is the Riley residence. [Name] speaking." My voice shook at the otherwise normal sentence. I prayed for the caller to be a random scam caller or even a stupid, 12-year-old boy calling to yell, "Your mom!" in my ear, but my anxiety remained prolonged as no one responded.

My nerves were higher than I would have liked. I felt pathetic and weak letting this phone call take such hold over me. I let out a breath I didn't know I was holding as I let out a "Hello?" to the silent line. My voice was quieter than I would have liked.

"I love when you play hard to get. It gets me riled up. Do it again."

It was the same voice from before, and it felt as if my blood had run cold. My breathing got shallow and I could feel my facial muscles tense up.

"I-I don't know what you mean."

"Insult me. Deny me. C'mon, you know I love a good game of cat and mouse." The voice let out a cruel laugh, and it felt as if a frog was stuck in my throat.

It was silent from my end, but the other end of the line consisted of heavy breathing. I tried to calm my nerves, It's best to stay calm in these situations, right?

The voice broke out again, "Talk to me, baby! Why'd you get quiet on me?"

I couldn't believe this conversation was happening. Why was this creep calling me? Why was he so adamant about talking to me? What was his motive?

Just hang up the phone, [Name]. Don't give this weirdo what he wants. Just hang up. Besides your popcorn is about finished. Hang up.

I felt my muscles relax at the words. I couldn't let myself get so riled up over a stupid phone call. With newfound courage, I hung up the phone. The sound of my popcorn finishing rang out from the kitchen, and I left the tormenting atmosphere of the living room. At that moment it felt like the kitchen was heaven. With the smell of buttery popcorn and the absence of a phone, it was perfect.

I wanted to dance with glee. With the popcorn finally done I could continue my movie! Skipping over the stairsteps while tripping over my own feet I rushed towards my door at the end of the hallway joyously.

"Yo, [Name]!"

My movements were brought to a stop at Stu's voice ringing out to me from Tatum's bedroom. I stopped in front of her doorway to find him sprawled out on her bed. My eyes shamelessly checked Stu's lounging body out, and my eyes hooked onto the sliver of his stomach. Was that a happy trail? I wanted to strangle Stu then and there. Why did he have to be so tempting?

"Earth to [Name]! Are you there?"

His voice was drawled out in the over-dramatic way he does everything in. I smiled at him admiringly. Stu was a person you could get drunk off of just by his presence. Even if it's just for a second.

"Oh. My bad. Just a little spaced out today, sorry."

Stu sent me the fakest, most exaggerated 'scared' expression ever, "Did the" He paused looking around as if he was searching for someone to be hiding in the corner before whispering, "aliens eat your brain?"

I laughed at his antics before joining in, flailing my arms like a damsel in distress, "Oh yes, it was a terrible sight! They sucked my brains straight out through my nostrils!"

The two of us burst out laughing. Being around Stu was always bound to be a laugh fest. It was one of the reasons I liked him. Probably one of the reasons Tatum likes him too. . . The topic of Tatum made me realize she wasn't in the room anymore. Where was she?

I moved into the room. "Okay, for real, where's Tate?"

Stu flopped around on the bed, "Doing some girly stuff in the bathroom." He paused before patting the spot next to him on the bed. "C'mon over here. Let's have some private guy time before Bridezilla comes back."

I laughed as I crossed the room to Tatum's bed. Taking a seat next to Stu, I played with my hands for the umpteenth time that night. It was a nervous habit, and being so close to Stu was definitely making me nervous. Which was totally stupid! He's been my friend for years. A stupid crush shouldn't get in the way of our friendship. But my mind still flew into a jumble being so close to him. What do I say? What do I do? What do I think? My thoughts trailed back to the phone call. God! No! Don't think about that!

As I poked around in my brain for what to say I could feel Stu's gaze on me. His eyes felt like they were shooting lasers into my skull. Stu always held an intense gaze. Almost possessive in a way. Which made sense. If Stu saw something he wanted, he got it, and if he got it he wouldn't share it. Except with Billy.

Billy. Billy Loomis. My sister's best friend's boyfriend who also happened to be best friends with my sister's boyfriend. What a title. Billy was someone-

"You gonna talk or just ignore me?" Stu interrupted my thought process. I gave him a blank stare before shaking off my empty-headedness. "Sorry. Just a little tired. You know it's pretty late, and I haven't been sleeping much as I should. Like maybe 4 hours a day? You know, doctors say to get 8 hours of rest, and I obviously don't so my brain is like ahhh 24/7."

Stu smiled at me, "What's keeping you up at night, baby? Heebie Geebies?"

"Oh, I wish," I chuckled. Stu raised his eyebrows as I gave him a sly look, "I do think I know what is keeping me up; however, you won't believe me."

Stu just stared at me with that mischievous look he almost always held, "I bet a signed copy of The Thing by John Carpenter I can guess it."

"Really!?"

"No. Why would I ever give up that? It's priceless."

I hit Stu lightly on the shoulder, "You had me going for a second, man. Can't believe you would play with my feelings like that. I'm heartbroken."

Directing a mock sad face to Stu I fell back onto the bed next to him, "Okay. 3 guesses. Go!"

"A masked man is watching you from your window."

"No, but would make my life more interesting if it did happen."

He snapped his finger at me, "A demonic murderer is haunting your dreams!"

I laughed out loud, "A Nightmare on Elm Street reference; seriously? "

Stu just gave me this charming smile at my words, and I couldn't help but smile back, "Last chance, go!"

Stu let out a hum as he pretended to think hard, "Okay, I 100% have it this time. My rakishly good looks haunt your dreams at night!

I let out a fake gasp of shock, "I can't believe you got it right! Are you psychic?"

He stuck out his tongue at me and I laughed again. My mind was finally free from the torment of the phone call, and I never wanted to leave Stu's presence. He felt like the only thing that could get my mind off of the unknown caller.

Our time spent together was interrupted by Tatum coughing obnoxiously at her door with her arms crossed. She had a full face of makeup and changed clothes that hugged her tight, and I instantly felt the urge to leave seeing her so dressed up. An underlying feeling of wanting to stay with Stu urged me to not want to leave, but the awkwardness in the air was suffocating.

"I'll go," I raised my hands in surrender and began to exit the room as Tatum stalked towards Stu like a lion ready to pounce a zebra.

I gave Stu a wink as I yelled out a quick, "Don't be too loud, lovebirds!" before quickly closing the door to scurry away from the couple into the safety of my bedroom. The paused screen of the final girl being chased down by the masked killer made me get a queasy feeling in my stomach, bringing me back to the memory of the odd phone call, and I couldn't stand to finish the movie any longer.

Turning off my TV and setting the popcorn on my nightstand, I went to the radio, turned it on, and felt the soothing tunes start to pleasure my eardrums. Praying it was enough to not only block off Tatum and Stu's noises from the other room, but as well as my troublesome thoughts I began to fall into the comfort of my bed.

No thoughts were bouncing around in my head except for ones of sleep and enjoyment of the music playing. There were no thoughts of Stu, or Tatum, or the creepy caller lingering in my mind, and I wished to keep it that way.

✎ notes . . . yes, this is a repost. tumblr deleted my old acc >:( ⟡ . ⛪ ◦ ✺ 02

#☆ — scream for you #☆ — sethcertified #scream #scream 1996 #billy loomis #stu macher #x male reader #billy loomis x reader #stu macher x reader #male reader #billy loomis x male reader #stu macher x male reader #ghostface #ghostface x reader #ghostface x male reader #scream x reader #scream x male reader

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