#williams been pounding into his brain since he was little.

[puhpandas]

What's an average conversation between Evan and Gregory like?

(also inspired by an instagram prompt about a flashlight duo sickfic)

Burrow-Nest-Fort

(2,922 words)

Gregory gets sick overnight, and Evan, who stayed over, gets sick as well. They hang out in their little quarantine together with no worries whatsoever.

Gregory groans, long and miserable as Evan takes the thermostat he found in the bathroom out of his mouth. "100.4." Evan says.

"Whyyyy..." Gregory asks aloud, bags under his eyes and completion pale as he sprawls out under his comforter. "I didn't even do anything."

"Nobody gets sick on purpose." Evan smiles a bit, putting the thermostat down.

"You slept right next to me like, all night." Gregory points out. "Do you feel sick at all?"

Now that Evan's thinking about it, he does feel that little prickle in the back of his throat that's the universal sign of an incoming sickness. "...Yeah."

He'd spent the night after coming home with Gregory after school on a Friday like he usually does. Throughout the night, he and Gregory had shared his bed, and Gregory had woken up this morning sick as a dog with no fanfare whatsoever.

Gregory groans again, the roughness in his throat accentuated by the dragged out line. "Great." He frowns, and the stuff clogging up his nose is evidently heard in his voice. "I get sick for no reason and now I make you have to deal with it too."

"Its okay." Evan says genuinely. "Its not like you wanted me to get sick. It's my fault for needing to get in bed with you when I'm too much of a baby anyway."

Gregory just narrows his eyes at Evan at that, his already sunkissed tan cheeks redder from the fever. He just sighs, letting his head fall back against his pillow. "I'm not even responding to that. You know what I'd say anyway."

Yeah. He does. The same thing Gregory's been telling him the past multiple months every time Evan feels sorry for himself. Evan himself sighs, feeling sorry for, well... feeling sorry for himself. "Yeah."

Theres a short spurt of silence after that, but its broken by Gregory. "Whatever." He sucks in through his nose, trying to breathe through the gunk. "Hey, since you're already gonna be a prisoner like me, come here."

Evan raises a brow. "Why?"

Gregory reaches at the foot of his bed to grab his laptop that has ten-thousand stickers on the back. He opens the lid, patting the empty space on the bed next to him. "Let's watch TV, or something. If I don't do something other than lieing here I'm gonna explode."

Evan giggles. "You look like it, too." He says, looking at Gregory's extremely red face from the undoubtedly harsh fever. "You better stop talking until you get a drink or your throat will feel awful later."

Gregory let's his head tilt back against the pillow as he shifts to get more comfortable. "Is my Dad home?"

He takes a look outside the window and sees the white van in the driveway. "Yeah?"

"Go tell him about our predicament." Gregory tells him. "I'd rather get the smothering over with before we get in the middle of an episode."

Evan smiles instinctively at that. "Okay." He replies. "But I'm about to be sick too, okay? It's almost my time to be bedridden too." He says on the way out of Gregory's room.

"Then hoard the snacks while you're down there!" Gregory calls at him, his voice sounding like death.

Evan only says the keywords 'Gregory' and 'sick' before Freddy is thundering up the stairs with Evan struggling to keep up with an armful of junk food.

He only gets to the door seconds after Freddy, but he's already doing said smothering. Somehow, three new throw blankets and a few pillows have appeared out of thin air, and are being tucked around Gregory like a nest of fluff and plush.

"What happened?" Freddy asks, ever worried. "Did something cause this?"

Evan watches Gregory shrug from his bed as he walks around the other side of Freddy, dumping the snacks onto his bedside table. "I dont know." He says, sniffling. "I just woke up sick. And he probably will be too."

Evan knows Gregory must have pointed at him because Freddy is smothering him the next time his brain catches up. "Do you feel alright, Evan?" Freddy asks him, crouching down and feeling his forehead and his temples. "Or should I quarantine the both of you."

Evan laughs slightly, and cringes at how the prickling is steadily getting worse. His head begins to feel a little warm. "Quarantine, I guess." He smiles. "I feel it coming."

"I am sorry." Freddy looks apologetic, despite him doing nothing. He pats Evan on the arm, and hes at the door in an instant. "Get comfortable, you two. I will make you both some soup and orange juice and get you some medicine later."

"Thank you!" Evan calls out half-hazardously as Freddy leaves the room. Gregory pats the little empty space in the next Freddy built for him and hoists his laptop on his knees. "We gotta pick something to watch."

When Evan finally sits down and gets settled with at least two blankets wrapped around his shoulders, he checks the laptop screen to see Gregory browsing an array of TV shows on some streaming service.

Gregory wrestles a hand out from underneath the blankets to point at one. "That one okay?"

Evan laughs at bit, making a miserable noise when his nose begins to clog up. "Yeah. Watching a baking show when your aunt isnt home and we cant get out of bed to make anything is a great idea."

Gregory huffs, and Evan cant see his face, but he imagines he's making one. "No I wont." He says. "My aunts cupcakes are better than any of these people could make."

Evan wiggles a bit, letting his body relax fully into the bed. Gregory's shoulder is pressed against his, and a bit of his hair is touching his forehead. "Stop." He laughs. "You're gonna make me want some."

Gregory laughs, pressing play and clicking on the first episode of a random season. When the episode starts playing and introducing contestants, he makes grabby hands at Evan. Evan just pulls his arm out of the blanket cocoon hes wrapped in and hands him a bag of chips, grabbing crackers for himself.

"This is a Halloween show." Evan points out. "Its January."

"This one is funny though." Gregory replies on the other side of the pillow, sniffling. "They have to carve stuff out of big pumpkins for like, a setting for their food."

Evan's brows raise. "Oh."

Theres this girl that says shes in the show because shes alone and wants to win the prize money for herself and to show everyone that she can do it. Shes one of the only people in the roster who doesnt have a partner or kids at home. Evan thinks hes rooting for her. Theres another guy who looks like hes fresh out of school and says he wants the prize money to start his career and open his own location.

"I'm rooting for him." Gregory says after munching on a handful of Lays. "I want to see how far he gets."

"You just pick the ones that look like theyll struggle so you can feel bad for them." Evan points out.

"I pick the ones who might struggle to watch how they fare against everyone else." Gregory corrects. "Its fun. The skill of watching reality TV is one you havent yet learned, Evan."

Evan scoffs a bit, laughing, and Gregory shifts next to him. "You'll learn as you watch." Gregory tells him. "Trust me."

So after that, Evan just stays quiet and watches. Gregory makes comments now and then, and then later complains about how his throat feels like sandpaper. Evan watches people rush around the kitchen and sketch elaborate sets for their food to be showcased in and carve faces and bodies and animals into pumpkins.

The judges are harsh and kind at the same time. A team's food gets burnt. Some come out perfect. A team gets pounded by the judges and the team the the guy Gregory is rooting for is on is the same the girl Evan's rooting for is. Their team wins the challenge and gets an advantage.

By the end of the first episode, Evan thinks he understands why Gregory watches so much. "Wow." He says just above a whisper, the prickling throat having finally set in all the way. Having nothing to focus on and away from how crap he feels makes him groan in misery, and Gregory isnt far behind him to follow.

"Anthony needs to step it up to impress the judges." Gregory manages in-between sipping at the bottle of water by his bed. "He almost screwed up the decoration."

Evan rolls his eyes, and thinks about how proud winning a challenge made the girl he's rooting for proud of herself. It makes him happy.

"I just want to see what happens next." Evan says, smiling. "I've never watched a lot of TV like this."

"You're missing out." Gregory replies. "Its fine. We can catch you up during our little quarantine."

Their little quarantine. Evan smiles outwardly. That sounds fun. Even if being sick sucks.

Its right before the second episode that Freddy returns to Gregory's room, a big piping bowl of chicken noodle soup in his hands with about two entire hand towels wrapped around the bottom and two spoons stuck in the bowl. He puts a tall glasse of orange juice on the bedside table next to Evan, and the other on the window sill next to Gregory.

Evan unwraps his sore limbs from the cocoon and sits up on the bed, pushing his head with a pillow as he and Gregory use their legs as a table. "Thank you..." Evan says to Freddy, grateful but not without the layer of guilt underneath. "I appreciate it."

"Its no problem, Evan." Freddy smiles in that kind, genuine way of his that's never ever made Evan feel on edge or nervous. Evan grins when Freddy pats him on the head, and Gregory smiles when he does the same to him. "Now I'm sorry, you two," Freddy trails off, pulling a bottle of cough syrup out of an invisible pocket. "But medicine before food, please."

He and Gregory both make ick noises at that, making faces. Freddy laughs at them while he pours the medicine into individual spoons for the two of them, and Evan watches with a twisted lip. "It will make you feel better."

"It better if it tastes like that." Gregory sticks his tongue out. "They're trying to kill us."

"Quite the opposite." Freddy shakes his head, holding out the spoon for Gregory to take first. "Its better to just get it over with, Superstar."

Evan watches as Gregory twists his face into the most dreadful expression hes ever seen, and he cant help but smile in amusement when he makes a show at swallowing it down and making disgusted noises.

Evan takes his with much less more fuss, but his eyes water at the awful fake quote unquote 'grape taste'. He cant help the way his face scrunches up, and both Gregory and Freddy laugh at him.

"Evan," Freddy begins suddenly after capping the medicine and taking the spoons back. His voice sounds more serious, and Evan "I'm going to have to tell your family something about why you aren't home."

Immediately, Evan's stomach drops to his feet.

He must have reacted outwardly, because Freddy frowns. "I know." He says. "But it will be alright. I'll tell them exactly why you're staying over, and--" He cuts himself off, and Evan dares to acknowledge the faint clench in Freddys jaw. "Surely if anything they would not care more than they would be upset."

And Evan finds that Freddys right. He's so used to Michael being in his face all the time that he forgets that his Father is at best neglectful and at worst barely present in his life. If his Father were to react in any way other than a quick 'alright' to the call, it would be a thanks that Evan is out of his hair for at least a few days.

The thought alone tends tears to his eyes. He ducks his head, squeezing his eyes shut when the tears make his nose that much more clogged and his face from the fever that much more unpleasantly hot. "Just tell them that I'm staying the night instead of being sick."

Better to not say he's sick in case his Father suddenly catches onto the maybe lie and thinks more than Evan wants him to. Besides, he could deal without the extra attention from Michael.

Freddy looks like he wants to say something about that, but he doesnt. When Evan peeks up through his home-cut accidental bangs, Freddy just nods, choosing not to linger.

"Alright, Evan." He smiles reassuringly. "Do not worry about it, okay? I'll tell them exactly what you told me to. Just let me handle it."

Just let me handle it. Something about that lingers to him, and it sticks to the walls of his mind.

He's never had anyone to handle it for him before. He's never had someone to take the reigns in regard to his dad and brother to the point where Evan isnt involved. Where he went have to worry about it.

He nods after a few moments, and Evan almost tears up again at the patience. "Okay." He says simply, his voice cracking and rough. He swallows, and ignores the gravelly feeling. "Yes, I would... I would appreciate that. A lot."

Nobody says anything after that, but the silence in comfortable. Freddy just grabs the back of Evan's head and holds it to his chest in a hug, and does the same to Gregory. Gregory snakes an arm around Evan's back and holds him close.

They stay that way for another minute until they break apart, and Freddy smiles that comforting smile at him that's like a weight taken off of his shoulders. "I will handle it." Freddy says again, jerking his head towards the soup. "Now finish your soup, boys. It'll be good for your throat."

Then he shuts the door, and the room is silent. The only sound is Gregorys table fan he always has running and the faint sound of cars outside. The heater kicks on in the house, and the sunlight spills through the open window and casts onto their little bed nest as the only source of light.

Gregory leans back into the bed and gets comfortable, dragging Evan back with him when all he's doing is picking at a roque thread in the hem of his shirt. When Evan looks up, Gregory is smiling with dry, cracked lips, and despite looking like death, its warm.

He doesnt mention anything that just happened. He doesnt try to guess what Evan's deal is and try to help him like he usually does, and Evan's thankful. Gregory seems to understand that now isnt one of the times to do that.

So Evan let's it go. And when Gregory gestures the the soup and nudges Evan's spoon closer to him, Evan just starts eating.

They're back to commentating the show in now time. The soup is only warm instead of hot now, but it still soothes their throat, and the steam clears up their sinuses some. Gregory keeps cracking jokes about the contestants and making fun of the corny host, and Evan laughs along with him, drinking orange juice when his throat prickles.

They marathon the season until the sun passes over the house and all that's left is the dim white sky of winter. The team with both of their favorites makes it to the finale.

The two teams fight over the biggest pumpkin. One of them is uncoordinated and theres a heated argument. Their pumpkin falls and breaks. The other splits up and finishes the pumpkin set in record time and completes their concept with no forks.

By the end, the team they both ended up rooting for wins, and Evan watches as the guy Gregory was rooting for gets his career started, and the girl he was rooting for talks about how she'll open her own bakery and she has friends for life now.

The soup is gone and the orange juice drained by the time the season is over. Gregory says theres eleven more available to watch.

Gregory puts on another season, and Evan burrows further into his little burrito and this time picks a contestant after the team's are decided to be against Gregory.

They watch a whole nother one, and halfway through, the sky outside darkens early like it does in winter, but despite the exhaustion from being sick, Evan wants to go another few hours.

Eventually, right near the finale, Evan and Gregory are forced to leave their blanket armor because Chica apparently came over at some point and baked them cupcakes as a suprise. She brings hot chocolate with her with peppermint sticks in them for their throats, and they eat through them like beavers with wood.

They dont move all day. They only get up to go to the bathroom at the end of the second season (Evan's team won, by the way) to brush their teeth, then they're back in their burrow-nest-fort without asking Freddy to get the air mattress.

Evan still feels like crap when he smushes his face into Gregory's pillow, but it's alright because they're in their little quarantine, and he's out like a light either way, looking forward to another season tomorrow.

ao3 link

#the show theyre watching is halloween wars btw. #i was inspired because my sister and i have been watching face off together (goated show) and reality tv has been on the mind. #ive always been a fan of baking shows and halloween wars has been a favorite since i was a kid because of the elaborate pumpkin sets lol #just wanted to write them hanging out. being bros. #nothing too crazy happens and evan doesnt let his family ruin having fun because for once #he has his real family to handle it for him sometimes. that means the world to him. #evan also was thinking william might think that hes somehow done that 'toughening up' #williams been pounding into his brain since he was little. #of course its toxic masculinity but by now evan knows its not right and he is the way he is and isnt changing. #its just not nice to hear. and michael would be teasing him for 'rebelling' and shit like that #also kudos to you if you noticed the girl evan was rooting for reflected him =) #pandas writes #my fics #flashlight duo oneshots #flashlight duo #gregory #evan #oneshot #sickfic #fnaf gregory #evan afton #basically just put prompts i thought could apply to this oneshot at the top lol

[yellowbunnydreams]

The Blood Runs Thicker (part 15) ~vampire!William Afton x F! Reader~

~Sorry this has taken so long to come out! I've been on a mental health break and had assignments due and things. I've also meme'd the old man and I'm not entirely sorry for it.~

Tag-List; @ruh--roh-raggy @randymeeksisafinalgirl @sleepy---head @robin-the-enby @hungrhay @likoplays @slxsher-whxre @nicolezghostz @spiderlilytengu @yondus-girl @puppetstr1ings

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* Want more or something different? *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

CW:Minors DNI, (18+ ONLY), Female Reader, legal age gap (Reader- 20's, William - ??), graphic acts of violence, biting, knife-play, blood, blood-drinking/licking, mention of dead children, anaemia. Mentions of torture. Drama/Angst. Possessive behaviour.

You weren't sure what time it was when you woke up, feeling stiff and sore and like you'd been hit and then backed over by an SUV. Groaning as you shivered under the thin motel sheet, turning onto your side with your eyes still closed before they snapped open and you remembered that William had been on top of you when you fell asleep. Sitting up and holding the sheet to you, swallowing softly as you looked around and heart beginning to beat a little faster as you stood up to look out of the window to see if the car was still there.

It wasn't.

You swore, scrambling to find any form of clothing as the thought raced in your mind that you had been left in a bloodied hotel room where the receptionist went missing and the last call was logged to your room. It didn't take a genius to put two and two together and naturally point the finger at yourself.

Tripping over a table leg in your haste, you grabbed onto the top and hissed as the thin sheet offered little protection around your body and was most definitely a contributing trip hazard, although despite your best efforts to stop and defy gravity's grip on you, your head meets the worn out motel floor with a 'thunk' that rattled about what was functional of your panicked brain. Groaning as you lifted your head and wrapped the sheet more tightly around you, feeling the front of your face warm and wet as you tentatively reached up a hand and it came away red. Swearing at yourself under your breath as you tried to gather yourself up off the floor and hearing the door rattling in the frame.

Had it even been seconds since you hit the floor? You felt fine apart from the pain in your face and your pride. Sat on the floor like a pathetic wet cat, wrapped in a bloodied sheet as William opened the door with his shoulder. Dressed in a baggy dress-shirt and some slacks, he looked almost like a counsellor at the careers office you had gone, and then you remembered that that was exactly what he was before you had gotten dragged into the whole messy affair that was the Afton family and Freddy Fazbear's Pizza.

He dropped the bag that he was carrying, rushing over to you and kneeling besides you as his large calloused hands gripped your face and inspected you for damage. You wondered where he'd gotten another pair of those glasses from, since you didn't remember them at all the day before. His thumb stroked over your cupids bow as his brow furrowed and his lip curled up into his customary snarl.

"What happened? Did somebody come in? I'll fucking kill them if somebody-" You blinked at the surprisingly possessive and protective tone to his voice, quickly shaking your head and gesturing to the slightly disrupted table.

"I-I tripped, William. Calm down, I'll be okay." Shrugging slightly and trying to calm your pounding heart from the adrenaline you had experienced at seeing the car gone from outside. Looking into his steely eyes and trying to offer him a reassuring smile.

"And why the fuck weren't you looking where you were going? Bunny you need to be careful, you're probably a bit worn down from yesterday and all the shit that came with it." He said, frowning as he easily picked up on your racing heart, seeing the concern in your eyes even as you tried to hide it.

"I..." You trailed off, looking at his intensity and unsure whether the predator before you even cared to know why you were panicked. Would he care? Understand? You didn't even realise as hot tears pricked at your eyes and caught him off guard once again. William Afton was not used to being a man who had tears shed over him, rather the tears were for his victims and their families. "I thought you were gone."

"Gone?"

"T-The car wasn't t-there and I...I was rushing to t-try and...and find you c-cause I thought...." The words were hard to push out, hiccupping as William's expression softened for once, carrying something behind his grey eyes that you might have construed on any other person as care. He wrapped his arms around you, strong and warm, reassuring as his large hands rested on your back and the back of your head, cradling you against him. His nose pressed to your head and breathing in deeply.

You smelt like blood, iron and sex and panic. Things William adored usually, but it smelt wrong in that moment. He wished he had the chance to smell you like you had appeared to him for the first time. Vanilla and fruits, something sweet about the products you used and even down to your barest being. He wanted you to smell like him from the night before. Not faintly like gasoline and agony.

"Stupid bunny, you thought I'd fuck you and leave you all alone?" He asked, cooing into your head as he felt you shrug in his grip. Sighing softly as his grip only tightened at your confirmation.

"I'm a fucking monster, but even I wouldn't do that. Plus, I hate leaving debts unpaid and you certainly are owed a substantial once since you saved my life. I ran to the store to get you some things since I noticed you had nothing packed for yourself." He explained, kissing the top of your head and allowing himself to hold you a moment longer before pulling back and giving you that usual curled lip snarl that made your own mouth curl into a smile now. "You're not getting rid of me that easily, blood-bag."

His calloused demeanour made you smile, and you nodded, wiping at your eyes with the heel of your palm before William scooped you up from the floor. Muttering under his breath as he kicked the door closed and carried you back over to the bed, placing you down on it before he grabbed the bag and opened it. Pulling out a couple items of clothing and placing them on the bed next to you, looking between you and them for a moment before nodding with himself satisfactorily.

Your eyes wandered over his choices and raised an eyebrow as he held up the first item for your inspection, blush warming your cheeks as you snatched the underwear from his hands and watched the feral but charming grin he gave you as you stripped in front of him and you could feel his appraisal as he scanned your body.

"Oh that is a view I'll never tire of....especially with you all marked up, bunny."

Your cheeks warmed up more, and you shook your head as you pulled on the jeans which were a little large on your frame and there was a soft beige turtle-neck sweater which you were honestly surprised that William managed to get ahold of considering the time of year, but you dutifully pulled it on anyway, rolling the baggy sleeves up to your elbows and sighing as you already felt warm.

"I wonder who's fault that is?" you asked, raising an eyebrow at the older man as he scanned you quickly before giving an approving nod. Pulling more clothes out of the bag and stripping off his shirt to reveal his broad, scarred and coarsely haired chest. The warmth flushing through you as you averted your eyes and his low chuckle made it all the worse.

"Now you're embarrassed to see me shirtless? After all the things we did together last night? I would be hurt if my cold, dead heart could hurt." Cocking his head and flashing a wicked grin as he pulled on a new plaid shirt then a sweater over the top, combined with his jeans and sensible shoes, he looked like a dad, or perhaps that one counsellor who didn't mind that you needed a hug when you cried your eyes out.

"Well I do believe it was technically only very select parts of you I saw."

"Hm... I suppose, but don't worry blood-bag, you'll get more chances to look." You could hear the smirk in his voice and rolled your eyes, shaking your head before pulling on the worn out shoes you'd previously worn to the pizzeria. Still coated in blood and gasoline. William wrapped his arm around your shoulders and nuzzled into your shoulder for a moment, inhaling deeply before giving a little squeeze and heading to the mini-fridge, pulling out the blood-bags that had been left in there and keeping one in his hand as he gestured towards the door. "We should get going though, as tempting as you are."

"Go where, William? Elizabeth and Mike will be crawling all over Hurricane to make sure you're gone." Crossing your arms and pouting as you walked out to the car, watching William locking the motel door and chucking the keys somewhere into the wooded area nearby, the same place that there was a freshly dead body disposed of.

"You'll see. Just get in the fucking car."

Piling dutifully into the car, you watched as William grumbled adjusting the seats properly again. Making sure that it was properly adjusted back to him as the smell of a spiced air freshener almost coated the scent of bleach. Glancing into the backseat to see the the leather cleaned up better than you could have attempted. But you guessed that William had had plenty of practise cleaning up things like blood over the time he had been alive. Not that you were sure how long that was.

The radio had been turned on, William fiddling with the dial to tune it and pausing only for a moment on a radio station as you pulled onto the highway, listening as the announcer spoke in those chipper, but somehow sombre tones.

"And in local news, a once beloved establishment was burnt down. Freddy Fazbear's Pizza, a now defunct children's entertainment restaurant that was subject to a series of-"

William changed the station quickly as his shoulders tensed up. Something in his expression softened, and you realised that it wasn't his usual expression of annoyance, but rather a touch of sadness. Freddy's had clearly meant something to him.

Most of the ride was silent. And it was only around mid-afternoon that William pulled into a mall parking lot that was entirely unfamiliar to you. Putting on some sunglasses from the glovebox and swapping them with his regular gold aviators as the Utah sunshine continued to beat down on everything and make it unseasonably warm.

"Does the light bother you?" The first words you'd spoken since you started driving to...somewhere. You weren't sure where you were going still, but William seemed to know at least. Watching the vampire turning his head and look at you from behind the dark plastic, watching his brows turn in and a frown form before he looked back out at the mall parking lot.

"It does at the moment, I'm still healing up Bunny. Bright sunshine gives most vampires a headache I've found." He finally answered after a moment, his large hand continuing to rest on the steering wheel as he kept his stern expression, fingers tapping like he was waiting for something.

"You've met others?"

"A long story for another time. And, I must have met one before, wouldn't I, dumb bunny." Gesturing to his extra canines and how sharp they looked at he flashed you a wicked grin before settling into a grim expression again. "Anyway, we're stopping for you. You need to stretch, keep up the circulation in your legs. Get some food, do whatever you living things still need to do."

"Has it really been that long since you were alive?" You asked incredulously, trying to imagine how old William must be to forget what it was to be alive. The vampire sat with a stern and serious expression. But you caught the slight slip of the corner of his mouth and you smacked his arm, making him chuckle and tut dissaprovingly.

"Asshole! I thought you were ancient or something!"

"Dumb bunny, I AM ancient compared to you." He smirked, making you frown and cross your arms, eyebrows raised sceptically, earning another chuckle from him.

"Okay, so how old are you?"

"That is a very personal question young lady. But I was made as I am around....1987?" He thought for a moment before nodding, chewing his lip for a moment and running his free hand over his beard briefly, scratching subtly at the still healing skin underneath.

"How old were you?"

"About thirty? You kinda stop counting after twenty-three I find."

"So what...You're old enough to be somebody's grandpa?That's...honestly I had images of you in like Victorian gear." William snorted at the statement and began to laugh, that deep rumbling laugh that made your chest tighten and a smile light up on your face that you made the not-so-old being laugh so much.

"Good God no, fuck that! I did know a guy from that time, but we are creatures of habit. Luckily, 'steampunk' and goth fashion allowed him some leeway." Shaking his head, William opened the car door and stepped out into the oppressive heat, you following suit shortly. Making sure your sleeves were rolled up properly.

"Do you think of yourself as...however old?"

"Anybody asks, I'm in my fifties. I can mention I had kids, nobody questions it and I can talk about the eighties as much as I like."

"So...fifty-four?"

"Sure, whatever makes you happy, little perverted bunny." He stuck out his long tongue at you, earning his another light smack and a chuckle as he wrapped his arm around you, holding you possessively close as you walked into the air-conditioned mall.

"I'm not a pervert!"

"Hm...You've still fucked an old man."

"And you nearly gummed me to death." You retorted, the hair on the back of your neck raising as you heard a low, deep growl in his chest under his laugh. Leaning in and kissing the top of your head affectionately, looking to all purposes like a normal couple to anybody paying you attention before he whispered dangerously in your ear.

"Careful now, you're my dumb bunny but stupidity doesn't win you a free pass on everything." Nipping your ear harshly and making you hiss as you felt the jolt of a canine biting through skin and cartilage, leaving a pearl of blood against your skin and dripping down the shell of your ear.

He kept his arm around you as you walked. Sneaking glances at you to make sure that despite your earlier tumble and now his little bite, that you weren't looking in too rough a shape. Something in his chest tightened at the thought of you being hurt like that, he wanted to bite and mark you up for certain, but he didn't want to spoil your pretty face.

He knew that where you were going would be safe, and that you would be able to get help. He would be able to get help. But for the first time in his life, William Afton genuinely considered how much it would hurt somebody else when he had to run from it all again.

~~

Lunch was uneventful, William had taken the time to pull you into the back seat and kiss you for a little while. Calling it an apology for scaring you so much earlier, whispering sweet nothings between his lips capturing yours and his beard scratching your skin slightly. His large hand cupping your cheek and thumb stroking over your cheekbone as you sat in his lap.

Of course, he'd had to have lunch too. Although despite your protests, he had used a blood-bag and not you, but he had silenced any protests by pointing out that you'd already been fed on the previous night, and even in the best case scenario you weren't replenishing your supply THAT quickly. However he had humoured you in trying a vanilla milkshake and mixing some of the blood in, successfully hiding it as a strawberry one and realising that whilst it wasn't as good taste-wise, he did manage to get some of the flavour through.

The rest of the drive saw a little eased tension, occasionally getting William to joke and laugh with you, tutting and shaking his head as you sang along quietly to the radio or did a little dance in the passenger seat. He couldn't help the smile that filled his face as he watched you from the corner of his eye, how his expression softened as you tried to sing along to a new song even though you didn't know the words.

Or the way the gradually darkening sky cast soft orange and golden glows over your skin as the sun set and he could switch back to his usual glasses. The way your nose scrunched up when you accidentally picked up his milkshake instead of yours and took a sip. A frown began to form on his face as the sun sunk further into the horizon, his hand rubbing over his beard again nervously.

He had to remember that you were only human.

But as the darkness coated the sky, occasionally blocking the stars with the orange glow of sodium lamps along the highway and you had quietened down as you fell asleep against the seat, head facing towards him, which made him smile a little, he spotted the sign he'd both been hoping for and dreading.

Eventually, he spotted the worn out but well cared for road a few blocks before the city proper. Turning down it and feeling his undead heart beating far too quickly for his liking. Swallowing softly as he reached over and shook you gently, smiling slightly as he watched you waking up and rubbing your eyes with the heel of your palm.

"Where are we?" Your voice still laced with the last traces of sleep as you recognised that you'd turned off of the highway and onto a smaller road, peering into the darkness as you spotted a house at the end. A little like how William's was set back from the road, but without the woodlands to shelter it and this house was distinctly more modern and cared for. A well tended garden coming into view as William pulled the car into what you assumed as the end of the driveway, spotting a mini-van parked besides it and looking at the dash to see the time before he turned the car off.

"Somewhere necessary." Was the quiet reply, the vampire taking a deep breath before stepping out of the car and coming around to help you out of your side. Making sure that your sweater was adjusted and covering any marks he might have made before he locked the car and headed towards the door of the house, gesturing for you to follow him.

There were lights on inside, which was strange considering the late hour but you couldn't help but sense that something about William was tense and ready to spring. It made you nervous that the predator you had become intimately acquainted with feeling out of his element and less confident, what on Earth scared the formidable and mostly unkillable William Afton so much?

His large hand reached up and he hesitated before he knocked, looking at you briefly before seeming to make up his mind and straightening his shoulders and knocking briskly. A quick series that sounded firm, but friendly all at the same time.

Sounds of movement behind the wood snapped your attention back to the building, and you watched as the door cracked open slightly. William stiffening slightly as there was a pause before the door opened slowly and revealed the person behind it.

He was an older man. Wearing thick glasses and clearly somebody who used to be wirey and strong despite the slightly larger body he had now, sagging with age and possibly years of homemade meals by the paunch he supported. His green eyes blinking as you noticed his curly, mostly silver hair was tied back and peppered with the last remnants of what might have been black or very dark brown. His expression slack jawed and loose as he simply stared at William, seeming to not even notice your presence as William shifted uncomfortably.

"I....You...You're..." The man stammered, his voice croaking as he found it and swallowing a few times before he seemed to come to some sense and the expression of disbelief become more clear on his soft features. "William."

"It's good to see you again, old friend." William said after a moment, giving a tight, closed lip smile as you furrowed your brow. Watching the taller man swallow and shift his weight uncomfortably onto one foot before he gestured to you, drawing the older man's attention over to you finally. William calling you by your name for the first time in a while before he sucked in a deep breath and turned to you with what looked like a pained but attempting to be reassuring smile.

"This is my old friend, Mr. Henry Emily."

#william afton #william afton x reader #steve raglan #springtrap #steve raglan x reader #fnaf movie #springtrap x reader #william afton x you #william afton smut #fnaf x reader #vampire william afton

[ponds-of-ink]

Short Ruin-Born Afton (Meme) ...Drabble? - “Always Coming Back”

My brain’s been juggling this idea ever since I realized that there was writing potential in this meme. Too bad MXES doesn’t share the same hype here...

—

The security rabbit glided towards the entrance of the power room. His usual glowing smile was all but gone now, as was the cyber-lines’ brightness. Though, given the current circumstances, this was to be expected.

Before he entered into the void-like rectangular passage before him, he stopped to scan his surroundings. The security nodes were online. Purple-tinted energy still surged through the hidden wires of the building. The only thing that one would consider being “off” were the traces of faint blue-and-purple handprints lining the walls. These handprints that actually made MXES perk up rather than fall into a deeper frustration. “Good,” he ‘thought’ to himself, but he really just sent a signal to his personal log. “He’s following me. Just as I intended.”

With a deep ‘inhale’, the rabbit shut his eyes and vanished into the darkness. A hiss of static buzzed his ears. Sign-laden pillars outlined with something akin to LEDs soon greeted him. The walkway before him was narrow, but there was a handrail always ready— And, given what could happen, he was actually thankful for it this time.

MXES floated past each server, checking the color of each outline. All clear for the main stage. All clear in the kitchen. All clear in the Daycare. Good. Now he could focus on more... pressing matters.

He stopped at the end of the hall and turned around. Settings in his program switched on and off. His throat sparked as a temporary voice measure kicked in. His stance shifted while his fighting protocol engaged. All connection to the animatronics severed. They couldn’t help him this time. Not with this threat.

Static lit the other end of the hall. He braced himself.

A second rabbit, skeletal yet unnatural, emerged from the doorway. It stalked around, twitching violently as it surveyed the area. Its bluish heart beat faster as soon as it saw its fellow creature.

MXES approached with a grim expression. “You shouldn’t be here,” he advised sternly. “You are supposed to be locked away in my code.”

The thing stared. “I am Ruin-Born Afton,” it said in a low, growly voice. “I always come back.”

“I am aware,” MXES replied flatly. “You’ve been saying that for the past couple of hours now.” He paused to observe his listener. It just stood there. Not really doing anything. “I would let you off with a warning, but you’ve thrashed plenty of objects here in this reality,” he explained, returning to a more battle-ready posture. “Besides, my protocol states that any threat to the nodes should be treated as such. You are no different.”

The skeleton twitched a little. “I am Ruin-Born Afton,” it stated again, though now somewhat agitated. “I always come back.”

MXES clenched his fists. All of his protocols argued within him. “I’m not sure if the Mimic’s gotten to you or you’ve come to that ‘conclusion’ on your own,” he continued in a stilted tone. “But believe me when I say that you are not the man known as William Afton. You are my beta design from eons ago. Please carry yourself in such a manner.”

Ruin-Born crouched. His heart-rate visibly pounded at an alarming speed. With a guttural snarl, he pounced on the cyber-bunny.

MXES swung the attacker off his arm. He reeled as it recovered from being flung against the floor. He had to figure out a good attack pattern. Fast.

Ruin-Born crawled back onto its feet. Its white pupils fixed on MXES. It lumbered towards him with its skull vibrating and arms swaying.

MXES pulled back his fist and swung it into a punch. His hand managed to knock off the tip of its ear, but it “regrew” within seconds. He uppercut the thing’s jaw, but its body corrected everything. Even body-slemming it only resulted in it being jumbled up for mere moments. This thing was unbeatable.

The other rabbit slowly neared its target. “I am Ruin-Born Afton,” it repeated arrogantly, though still keeping that harsh growl. “I always come back.”

MXES leaned against the railing. He peered into the abyss behind him. He, too, would be unable to “die” here– Especially if he jumped over it and plunged. Maybe he could...?

His ears raised slightly. With a look of resignation, he turned off his fight system. “Before I surrender, I want to ask a question,” he said in a somber tone. “Why do you insist on being the man known as William Afton?”

The other rabbit remained silent.

MXES shook his head. Of course it couldn’t explain that. “Let me ask a different question,” he responded darkly. “Who do you think you are? Answer honestly.”

Its heartbeat quickened. A low chortle emitted from its neck. “I am Ruin-Born Afton,” it answered as if the answer was laughably obvious. “I always come back.”

That answered one question that bounced around in his system. This was not the Mimic’s doing, by some miracle. This was something else entirely. MXES quietly “sighed” in relief as his system’s diagnosis of the creature updated.

...Then a new sensation overrode his code. Something humans would call “a horrible gut feeling”.

He refocused his attention towards his fellow creature. “Then let me ask a second question,” he continued uneasily, though trying to maintain an agitated expression. “If you are ‘Ruin-Born Afton‘, then what am I? A copy of your ghost?”

Ruin-Born trudged forward. Its ever-glowing pupils scanned its anxious audience as it neared. After what felt like an eternity, it stopped a few feet away. It craned its neck to ensure eye contact. Its arm raised and its jaw opened. “I am Ruin-Born Afton,” he announced as he pointed at the security hare. “I always come back.”

MXES’ squarish pupils shrank. Every program froze. “Are you saying... I am the man known as William Afton?“ he asked weakly.

Ruin-Born’s arm lowered. “I always come back,” it emphasized, its twisted body straightening to its full height. “You... always come back.”

All of MXES’ programs broke. He tried to climb over the railing, but even that protocol was overridden by this new wave of information. His voice box attempted to utter some sort of counterpoint, but his internal searching program was too scrambled. To add insult to injury, Ruin-Born vanished right in front of him. The only comfort that this gave was the one good signal that was being logged into his database: Ruin-Born was now back in his original code.

Not that MXES noticed, as he was now furiously digging through the files of his own development history.

#william afton #ruinborn afton #fnaf mxes #fnaf ruin #fnaf memes #fnaf fanfic #drabble? #maybe? #this is a non-canon head-canon by the way #don’t think MX here is Afton #but I’m pretty sure this a... natural?.. conclusion that could happen in-universe #chalk it up to a “nightmare” ig

[spacecowboyhotch]

FTL - Part 1: SALOME

gif by @william-butcher

summary: why couldn’t it have been him?

characters: fem!reader x javier peña, fem!oc salome mendez, steve murphy, mentions of carillo & messina

chapter contents: 18+/nsfw/MINORS DNI, grief, pining, angst, death, mention of firearms/explosives, minor injury, blood mention, mental health, smoking, alcohol mention/abuse

AN: thank you to every single person who’s encouraged me to write this fic. i had a lot of doubts dipping my toe into the javier peña world but my brain really couldn’t help itsself. that being said, i hope you all enjoy. thoughts, comments, reblogs are appreciated.

word count: 2k

series masterlist | requests are open

Javier Peña is exceptional at a lot of things. Getting information, choosing beer, smooth-talking women and most recently getting on your last fucking nerve. You’d heard stories about him before you met him. You learned that he’s a man that bends the rules, sleeps with his informants, is devastatingly handsome, and by plenty of accounts is an asshole. And while all those things are true when you meet him, so is the fact that he’s damn good at his job.

It’s what makes him palatable as the months go on and on. That and the fact that no matter how things go he always has a way of making everyone feel determined to push on. He’s a good leader, even if he doesn’t want to be, and while you hate to admit it, things wouldn’t be the same without the overly confident, ever annoying Javier. Beneath all of that, you can tell that he harbors his own definition of care for everyone, even you. You try not to think about it, especially when you catch yourself glancing up to study him while all of you sit and type reports or wait for the phones to ring. It's easier than you’d like to admit, getting lost in the curve of his eyebrow or the pounding of his fingers on the keys.

Most of the time you’re pulled away by the ringing of a phone, and tonight isn’t any different. You’re grateful for the call, blowing out the breath you didn’t realize you were holding in. Javier catches your gaze for just a moment before standing and moving to sit on Murphy’s desk since he’s the one who’s got the call. With Murphy’s subpar Spanish, the phone is quickly handed off to Javier who wraps the call up quickly, rushing into Carillo’s office with you, Murphy, and Salome on his heels.

Though your Spanish is better than Murphy’s, it's still lacking compared to Salome’s and Javier’s. It’s why they end up with more time in the field together even though Salome’s your partner. Tonight’s one of those nights; Messina has assigned you and Murphy to stay behind and listen to the raid through the comms. It pisses you off a little, pisses Murphy off a lot, and all Peña can do is smirk while Salome tries to convince you that there’s always the next time.

But the more the plan unfurls in front of you, the more something feels off. You can’t shake the feeling that this raid isn’t what it seems. There’s a sense of doom boiling in your stomach, hot and wretched. The sweat that sticks to your skin could be from the humid air of Colombia, but you account it to your dancing nerves. You don’t want any of them to go, especially not Sal. You’re back at your desk, trying not to look like your thoughts are screaming at you when Sal steps out of Carillo’s office to see you reeling. Even if no one else can read you in this office, she can.

She makes her way over and sits at her desk across from you with a sighing breath that you ignore. She watches as you pretend to be busy, hoping that she’ll leave you alone but it rarely works with her. Leaning forward, her fingers tap the top of your typewriter so you have to look up at her, “Hey, what’s wrong, hermanita?”

You don’t know that this is your last conversation with her. That instead of telling her your worries you should just pull her close and let her know how much she means to you. It doesn’t matter either way; she knows how much you love her. Your mind isn’t kind enough to tell you that once she’s gone.

You lean in as well, keeping your voice low. The last thing you need is Peña taking jabs at you for feeling uneasy, “I don’t have a good feeling about this.”

“We’ve got good intel, everything checks out. If we get this lab it’ll be a big blow to Pablo. It gets us one step closer.”

“I know, Sal, but-“

“Tranquílate,” She takes both of your hands into hers, squeezing reassuringly. “Everything will be fine, and when we finish, we’ll go dancing in celebration. I’m sure Antonio would be happy to see you again.”

You listen to her, nodding your head in agreement because Salome’s the big sister you never had. You trust her opinion like no one else’s, she'd never steer you wrong. Surrounded by a hoard of brothers, older and younger, you were happy to leave home and finally get away from all that testosterone. Your mother passed with the birth of your youngest brother. You were only 16 and when that happened, you’d checked out, withdrawing into yourself. You had planned to go into something quiet, English or business but then you took a criminal psychology class and the thought of the chase was the only thing louder than the constant pain of losing your mother that buzzed in your ears.

Heavy footsteps bring your back to the present, and you see Sal and Peña huddling together, talking as she slides into her bulletproof vest. She’s still talking to him when her eyes meet yours, her lips pulling up into a smile before she waves. You return the wave, attempt to return the smile though you feel ill. Before Javier can follow after her you stand up and rush over to him.

“Peña,” You whisper under your breath, your eyes flickering to Carillo’s door and back to him.

He raises an eyebrow, intrigued by your obvious want for secrecy, “Yeah?”

The way his brown eyes examine you steals your breath for a moment, but you look down at your fingers for just a moment to clear your head, “Make sure Salome makes it back in one piece.”

“I will,” He says simply as he starts towards the door.

“And Javier?” He turns back to look at you, his shoulders hunched in that protective position, waiting for your usual snide comment. It doesn’t come. Instead, you say, “You too.”

His frown smooths out, and for a moment he just stares at you, searching your eyes for anything that would contradict the softness of your words. He doesn’t find it, just more of that unexpected tenderness that makes his mouth feel dry. He flexes his fingers into his palms, giving you a firm nod. This all feels too close to the beginning of the fantasies he has about you. He keeps them tucked deep inside the halls of his brain, safe enough to retrieve when he’s with a woman that he desperately wants to be you or when he’s alone at home, drowning in the flashbacks and needing something to pull him to the surface. So secluded in synapses that he won’t bring it up, even when his veins swim with copious amounts of whiskey. The way you’re looking at him is all he’s ever wanted but can’t have, and he reasons that he has to make this moment feel typical.

“Don’t worry about me, I’ll be back to grind your gears soon enough, querida,” His tongue dips over his lip before he smirks at you, backing away towards the door.

You roll your eyes at him and head towards your desk, not even bothering to pay him any more attention. He lingers by the door to watch you, trying to be subtle as his eyes follow the contour of your hips. Carillo calls his name before you can face him again at your desk, and he slips into the office.

Everything is going smoothly until it isn’t. The world turns on its axis in a matter of seconds. First its mumbled words of hesitancy and then a blast. When the bomb goes off, your shouts for Salome to copy turn into inhuman cries, grating the ears of everyone else in the room. Murphy tries to soothe you but you push him away, snatching the cigarette out of his mouth and taking a long drag. You hardly ever smoke, you're usually the one giving everyone else shit for it, but you need something to do other than cry and wait. It dawns on you when the cigarette is finished that Murphy has whiskey in his desk, and you berate him until he finally gives in and gives it to you. You drown yourself in it, needing to wipe out the feeling of what you’re sure to be true.

Your assumptions of Salome’s whereabouts are confirmed when Javier Pena is the one to make it back. He’s banged up, blood staining his clothing, dust, and rubble covering his entire body. A concussion, a dislocated shoulder, and cracked ribs. That’s all he got while others like Salome were ripped to shreds. It's moments like these that he wishes this war he’s fighting would take him. This is when it all seems pointless, when he loses someone he feels has more of a right to life than him. It doesn’t help when he gets back and you’re standing on the front steps. He finds your eyes as soon as he’s out of the car, glazed over but burning, and he knows that you’re both thinking the same thing.

Why couldn’t it have been him?

It's tough to see him like this, even when you’re this furious with him. You feel guilty that some of your sadness goes away by seeing him. In a way, you’re relieved to see him and it makes you feel disgusting, so you focus on the rage. As he slowly walks up to you and Murphy, stiff from the explosion, you can’t find the words to communicate any of your feelings to him.

Neither can he.

The car ride to your apartment is awkward, the air thick with all the unspoken words that are loose in your head, unable to form a sentence. All of you are anxious to be out of the car. Murphy’s got soft music going to fill the silence, his fingers thrumming against the steering wheel every time there’s a red light.

Javier’s happy that neither of you seem ready to talk, he keeps his eyes trained out the window, his fist clenched together. Every once and a while he can’t help himself, his eyes flicker back to check on you and the self-deprecating thoughts get louder with each sight of you. You’re crying silently in the back seat, the tears coming steady, blurring your vision and staining your cheeks. You’re not sure when they’ll stop.

When the car stops in front of your apartment, Murphy starts to talk but it just sounds like a dull buzz, unimportant, his words useless against the iron grip that grief has already taken on you. You step into your apartment building without so much as a wave goodbye and as soon as you’re in your apartment your knees go weak, barely able to get you to the couch. That couch is where you stay, in and out of sleep, clothes wet with your own tears until Messina calls you the next day with funeral arrangements.

It all moves so fast here and you’re not ready. You’re not ready to say goodbye to Salome, you’d never planned on doing this without her. You set an alarm to get up for the funeral which is in two days before crawling to your bed. There’s nothing else to get up for before then. Not anymore.

read Part 2: BLEEDING.

if you’d like to be on my pedro pascal characters taglist let me know!

javi taglist: @lesbianhotch, @honeybrowne, @hotchs-bitch

#javier peña x f!reader #javier peña x fem!reader #javier peña x reader #javier peña x you #javier peña x y/n #javier peña #javier peña fic #javier peña fanfiction #narcos fic #narcos fanfiction #arson writes narcos

[teawan]

Heyoo! Saw your post for fic ideas but I was wondering if you would mind doing a Byler forehead touch in the rain that evolves into a kiss? Something that mirrors the "It's not my fault you don't like girls" scene but less angsty and more romantically tense?

Then afterwards they hug and laugh or something, like, you can feel the relief when they realise all the tension (from the mutual romantic feelings) has been burst.

this one was a little tricky!!! i'm not really confident about the characterization (as always) but i do think it's pretty fluffy and hopefully satisfies someone's cravings for a sweet byler moment <3 enjoy!

-

Mike is staring at Will when the shrill ringing of the downstairs phone sounds, and he just barely manages to look away before Will’s head shoots up from where it had previously been bent over, studying one of Mike’s X-Men comics. Willing his heart to stop pounding like he’s a toddler who’s been caught with a hand in the cookie jar, he glances back over at Will in what he hopes is a nonchalant manner.

“That’s probably my mom,” says Will, seeing Mike’s questioning look at his peculiarly severe reaction. He grimaces slightly, as if tasting something bitter. “I think I forgot to tell her I was coming home with you today.”

Mike’s brain short-circuits at Will’s choice of words—coming home with you. He knows it’s nothing, because yes, Will had, in fact, come to the Wheeler house after school today instead of to his own home, so there’s nothing to read into. At all. But he can’t help but think back to the soap operas his mom watches at night after dinner, when the protagonist meets a tall, dark, and handsome mystery man in the bar after a breakup, and he asks her, word for word: what do you think about coming home with me tonight, darling? It doesn’t take much of an imagination to guess at what that kind of “coming home” implies.

But this is Will. William Byers, Mike’s best friend since kindergarten, and he should not be thinking this way about the boy sitting on his bed across from him; he shouldn’t be thinking this way about any boy. 

He knows there’s something wrong with him, that he shouldn’t be thinking like this—he’s grown up with a father that scoffs and curses under his breath at the rare sight of two men doing something as simple as holding hands in public, with a mother that can’t even speak the word homosexuals or queers without glancing around and lowering her voice like it’s a dirty thing to say. Yes, he likes girls and their uniquely feminine beauty, the way their hips curve out gently, that indescribable pleasant girl-smell that seems to radiate from every female person he’s encountered, but that’s not all he likes. He’s stared at the men in the dirty magazines under Lucas’s bed just as much as, if not more than, the women. He shouldn’t be thinking like this, but yet, his thoughts race a million miles a second at that phrase leaving Will’s lips, those words shaped by Will’s beautiful, musical voice, directed at him.

He realizes Will has been watching him patiently, waiting for a response. His head is cocked to the side just slightly, like a curious puppy. Mike is certain that he is about to explode. “...Ah. Should we—”

Before he can finish his trainwreck of a sentence, his mother’s voice travels up from the first floor. “Will, honey? Your mother’s on the phone!”

“Yep,” Will says, as an answer to Mike or a confirmation to his own previous statement, Mike isn’t sure, and then slips off the bed, walking almost silently in sock-clad feet over to the door. He turns the knob, pulling it open, and glances back at Mike, looking expectant. “Aren’t you gonna come?”

“Uh, yeah! Of course,” Mike splutters, cursing himself silently. He is so far in over his head right now. If he keeps this up, the entire population of Hawkins and their mother will know about his big, fat, crush on Will Byers. He wishes he could shake out his head to clear it, like how dogs do after getting baths, but he figures that would only make things worse. Instead, he schools his face into the most normal, absolutely-not-attracted-to-his-best-friend expression he can, and stands as well, following Will through the hallway and down the stairs.

His mother is waiting for the two of them by the phone, and when she sees them appear, she says so into the speaker and then hands it to Will. He can only hear one side of the conversation, but it’s not hard to follow, since he’s been around for enough of Will’s interactions with Joyce that he has a feel of how a typical conversation might go.

“Yeah, sorry,” Will is saying quietly, looking down at his feet as he listens to his mother’s reply. “I forgot to tell you, but yeah. I’m okay. I’m with Mike.”

The first thing his mind jumps to when he hears those last two sentences from Will is that to the Byers boy, being okay and being with Mike is synonymous. His heart swells for a moment—I’m safe to him, he knows I’ll protect him—before he checks back into reality and realizes that, once again, he’s reading way too deeply into things. He doesn’t know what the hell’s gotten into him today—maybe the sight of Will sprawled out on Mike’s bed like he belonged there, fitting perfectly in like the last piece in the puzzle of Mike’s life, was too much to handle.

“Okay, okay, I got it,” Will says, voice tinted with a touch of exasperation. Clearly Joyce’s overprotectiveness is showing itself again, but, if he’s honest, he can’t blame her. Sometimes he catches himself worrying about Will a little more than maybe he should when the shorter boy is a couple of minutes late to school, or when there’s a hint of that glossy-eyed dissociation that takes Mike back to that night in the shed, with Will tied up like some kind of criminal, his best friend’s body taken by a sick, evil creature, when Mike had thought for one horrible moment that perhaps he would never again get to play Dungeons and Dragons with the only person he felt had ever really understood him.

“Calm down, Mom, I’m sorry. Look, I’ll head home now, alright?” With one last drawn out goodbye, Will finally hangs up, turning to Mike with a wry smile. “I have to go. My mom’s pissed off that I came over without telling anyone.”

“It’s cool,” Mike reassures him, “she’s just worried. I can understand why.” As soon as the words leave his mouth, he wants to slap himself. He can understand why? That’s exactly the kind of thing that’s going to get him in trouble, the kind of thing that’s going to clue people in on his weird, twisted desires and make him lose Will forever.

Luckily, though, Will doesn’t seem to really process what Mike has said as thoroughly as Mike himself has, and just sniffs a laugh as he heads toward the door to the garage, where his bike is resting against the wall right next to Mike’s. Slightly disoriented, Mike trails behind him.

He slams into a wall. 

Will spins around, startled at the sudden noise, and rushes to Mike’s side when he realizes what’s happened. “Oh my god, are you okay? What happened?”

Mike blinks once, twice, three times, head spinning a little from the impact, and waits until Will’s face comes into focus to reply. “Oof. Yeah. I’m okay, I, uh, lost my balance.” It’s a crappy excuse, and he just lays there on the ground, waiting for Will to call him out on it, but he never does. Instead, they stare at each other for a little a lot longer than what would be considered normal.

Will’s face is close enough for Mike to see every little detail: his eyes are this deep, beautifully smooth brown hue, a color that makes Mike imagine the taste of chocolate melting on his tongue—warm, silky, and decadent. He wants to tell that to the boy leaning over him, but the words are stuck in his throat because he can’t really tell what’s happening right now. Are these same thoughts circulating through Will’s head? Is he waxing poetic about Mike’s irises in his mind? Is he admiring the way Mike’s features are sculpted like they were carved by Aphrodite herself? Is he imagining what Mike’s lips would feel like pressed up against his own mouth?

Then the moment shatters. Will stumbles back, away from Mike’s face like he’s snapping out of a trance, face burning red and mumbling something that Mike can’t understand. He thinks it might be an apology. He wants to scream.

He doesn’t scream. In reality, he picks himself up off the floor casually, pretending not to see the deep red blush climbing up Will’s neck, and prays that Will has the decency to ignore the heat he can feel crawling up his own cheeks. Then, he walks on, taking the lead like the last two minutes didn’t happen, and listens closely to make sure he can hear Will’s footsteps behind him.

They exit the house silently, both avoiding each other’s gazes—Mike knows this because he’s taking every chance he has to steal a look at Will to see if maybe he’ll suddenly develop telepathic abilities and be able to read exactly what the Byers boy is thinking, and once or twice he catches Will turning his eyes away from Mike just a beat too late—as they make their way over to the corner where Will’s bike leans.

Will clears his throat awkwardly, making Mike jump a little. “Um, bye.” He doesn’t sound angry; more uncertain, as if he’s just as confused as Mike is. The thought that he might feel that way relaxes Mike a little. If they’re both stumbling blindly in the dark, then maybe it won’t be so embarrassing if he trips up and makes a mistake.

“Bye,” he offers back weakly, forcing a smile. It’s not that he’s mad or upset; he’s just far too bewildered to muster up a genuine one at the moment. Will smiles back, swings his leg over the seat of the bike, and, with one final glance back at Mike, who tries to look as reassuring as possible, he rides off.

He’s only just turned the corner and disappeared from Mike’s field of vision when the sky opens up and rain comes crashing down in gray sheets, hitting the ground so powerfully that drops of icy cold water travel what has to be at least two feet and splatter onto the front of Mike’s shirt. 

His first thought is of Will—Will, who’s on his own in the streets in the middle of this downpour, trying to make his way home. Without any hesitation, he sprints out into the storm and in the direction of the Byers house, and only then does he remember that he’s dressed in just a thin t-shirt and jeans, both of which are not even remotely waterproof. Within a second, he’s soaking wet and dripping like a soggy Goldfish cracker in tomato soup. 

Fuck it, he thinks to himself. It’s not like running back into the shelter of the garage is going to magically dry his clothes, so he forges ahead, sneakers squelching as he runs, rain running down his face and into his eyes like cold tears. He can’t really see anything at all, but that’s okay, because he’s been down this sidewalk enough times that his feet can recognize the texture of the familiar pavement beneath them.

“Will!” he yells uselessly into the watery world. It would be a miracle if anyone heard him over the incessant shh-shh-shh of the rain, but he keeps on calling his best friend’s name nonetheless, using his hand to block as much water as possible from his face. He’s not even actually quite sure of what he plans to do if he does manage to catch up to Will, but he isn’t really thinking all that clearly right now.

Mike slows when his lungs begin to burn from breathing in air that is more water than oxygen, and by now he thinks he might be screwed. He’s cold, really, very cold and wet, at least half a mile away from his home, and Will is nowhere in sight—he’s uncomfortable enough now to admit that maybe this was a bad idea. His fingers are turning numb. Turning blindly around in circles, he tries to decipher his exact location. He knows the general area that he’s in, but with the rain obscuring his vision, he can’t quite pin down where exactly he’s standing. Sighing to himself when he realizes that there’s nothing to do but wait for the rain to mellow out, he blinks hard a couple of times to dispel the excess water from his eyelashes and wraps his arms around himself in an attempt to conserve body heat—

“Mike!”

He’s so fucking freezing that he’s hallucinating. Wonderful. 

Then the voice, Will’s voice, calls out again: “Mike? Is that you?” and Mike takes a moment to try and figure out if this is real or just a figment of his imagination. Before he can decide, though, a dark figure appears somewhere from his left. It grows closer and closer until Mike can make out the shape of a boy, a boy wheeling a bike towards him. “Will?” he asks, although he’s certain that this is his friend, his best friend who’s stopped on his way home to backtrack through a rainstorm just because he heard Mike call his name.

“Mike! What are you doing out here?” It is indeed Will Byers, usually-fluffy hair plastered to his skull and plaid button-up soaked through. Water is dripping from his chin, his hair, his dark, clumped-together eyelashes, and all Mike can think about is how warm, how alive he looks.

“H-hi,” he stutters back, and realizes that his teeth are chattering.

“Jesus, you’re freezing,” says Will worriedly, casting his beloved bike to the side carelessly so that he can get closer to Mike. He pulls Mike into a hug, attempting to rub some warmth into his shoulders, and Mike presses his forehead down to Will’s. The shorter boy’s skin is warm, a little chilled by the icy downpour but still at a considerably higher temperature than Mike’s. Will doesn’t react much, still putting all his effort into transferring as much body heat as possible to Mike through various methods. Finally, he settles for the full-body hug, locking his arms around Mike and moving in to create as much contact as he can between the two. 

Mike just watches, so starstruck at this beautiful boy in front of him, fussing over him—maybe it’s the numbness in his extremities or maybe it’s the years of pent up feelings and urges but he’s so distracted that he can’t really even feel the cold anymore—that he doesn’t protest, or blush, or freeze up like he might if this were to happen anywhere or anytime else. Then, Will tilts his head up a little so he can meet Mike’s eyes and opens his mouth to ask what Mike assumes will be another query as to why he’s not home, and Mike moves before he thinks.

Will’s mouth is just as warm as the rest of his body, and it feels like heaven against Mike’s cold lips, reminding him of sitting in front of the fireplace with a mug of hot chocolate after coming in from a day of playing in freshly-fallen snow. Will tastes like cinnamon and peaches and boy, so different from anything Mike’s ever tasted before, and he’s mesmerized by the complex flavor that tastes like sunshine and cologne and a newly-mowed lawn—in a pleasant way—all at once. It’s at least three times better than the way girls taste.

And then Will’s kissing back, and Mike is completely sure that this is the best kiss of his life. There is no possibility of anything, or anyone, topping this feeling of pure exhilaration and giddiness that’s sweeping away any remnants of the wet chill from his bones. It’s gentle but insistent, the kiss, and, as if the universe is somehow synced to Mike’s feelings, the rain abruptly lightens to a much more reasonable drizzle.

Will pulls away, and Mike panics for a moment, but then he sees the wonder on the smaller boy’s face and any fear is erased from the pit of his stomach. He sees Will stare, at him, at the rain, at the water dripping off of the both of them, and suddenly he’s laughing, laughing so hard that he doubles over because he feels so light. As he clutches his stomach, peals of laughter escaping him uncontrollably, he hears Will start to giggle as well, a sweet, light, beautiful sound that makes Mike want to kiss him again and never stop.

He hadn’t realized how heavily these feelings had been weighing on him, on his friendship with Will—hadn’t realized that suppressing those thoughts and emotions had actually taken a toll on him, like someone had been gradually dropping rocks into his pockets as he struggled to tread water. Now that that weight is lifted, though, he can’t do much more than relish the floaty feeling in his body, the bubbly happiness that he doesn’t think he’s ever experienced before. A glance at Will confirms that the other boy seems just as elated, brown doe-eyes sparkling, and Mike recovers enough to pull Will into another kiss. This one is shorter, more of a drawn-out peck, but it’s just as awe-inducing as the one before it. “Guess what,” he asks Will when they part again.

Eyes wide and smiling, Will asks what.

“I’m in love with William Byers,” Mike tells him, and it’s like the clouds part in his heart, allowing sunshine to reach into every nook and cranny of his insides. “I’m in love with you.”

#fanfiction #one shot #byler #mike wheeler x will byers #fanfic #stranger things #text #fluff #first kiss #might be ooc #fic request #byler fluff #constructive critism welcome #kissing

[rikaluver]

If You Seek Amy - William Afton x Fem!Reader

Rating - Hard Smut

Word Count: 3.2k

Also available on AO3

The amount of patience that parents have is astronomically impressive to you. Kids are a handful. You're glad you don't have any because if you did, your brain matter would be splattered all over the wall. You're about to lose it. A toddler in a shopping cart is wailing. The little girl beside her is crying as well, both of them in an unholy cacophony of noise. It's hard to believe how such a small child can make such a big, terrible sound. Your fingers are pressed firmly into your temples, trying to alleviate the pounding headache that's been steadily growing for the past half hour.

"I'm gonna step outside and get some fresh air. You'll be alright for the next few minutes, right?" You ask your coworker who doesn't even give you the time of day and instead waves her hand, shooing you off.

You push through the backdoor, letting the door swing shut behind you. It's still loud, just a little less loud than before. You can actually hear your thoughts now. It's not too chilly, but there's a nice, cool breeze blowing that ruffles your hair and brushes against your skin. You breathe in deeply, taking a moment to appreciate the fact that you aren't inside a store that reeks of baby vomit and urine. You walk around back of the diner before you pull a cigarette out of the box you've been carrying around with you and light it up.

The first puff feels good. The smoke is smooth and warm as it passes through your lips. You can feel your nerves relaxing as the smoke enters your lungs. It's like a drug and you've been jonesing for it ever since your shift started. You exhale slowly and the smoke escapes you in a thin, white stream. There's a bit of a haze around you as you puff away on the cigarette, trying to make this last as long as possible.

You're not given smoke breaks during work, you're not even allowed to have cigarettes on you while you're working. You're not quite sure what would happen if you got caught, but you try not to worry too much about it. You don't need additional stress from worrying about the consequences of your actions.

The backdoor swings open and you expect another employee coming out back for a smoke as well, or maybe to throw something in the trash, but instead you're greeted by your boss, William Afton. His presence sends a jolt through your body, making you stand a little straighter and the hairs on the back of your neck stand on end. He's a tall man with a lanky build. He's very thin, not much in the way of muscle. Somehow, he remains threatening and imposing even though he's so skinny. The first time you saw him, you remember being startled by the way he carries himself. He's so thin, yet so strong, he exudes a certain confidence that makes him seem bigger than he actually is.

He looks at you for a moment, his face blank. You can't read him and you never can. He's a closed book, always. You hold his gaze, refusing to look away. His eyes are so dark, a deep, stormy grey. They're piercing and cold and it feels as though he's staring straight through you.

"Sorry, I'll put it out." You say, stumbling over your words.

"Oh, don't stop on my account. In fact, can I bum a fag?"

You stare at him confused. "Excuse me?"

"You got another one on you?" He points to the cigarette in your hand.

"Oh, uh, yeah."

"Give me one."

You pull the box out of your pocket and toss it to him. He catches it and pulls out a cigarette. You're surprised he's even able to fit his long, spindly fingers into your tiny pack of smokes. He puts the cigarette between his lips and pats his pockets, looking for a lighter.

"Here, let me." You pull your own lighter out of your pocket and light it, holding the flame out to him. William leans in, cupping his hands around the flame as he lights his cigarette. He's close enough that you can see the little, black flecks in his steel-grey eyes. The flames cast a warm glow on his face. For a brief second, he looks gentle. As quickly as it had come, the warmth in his eyes is gone.

"Thanks." He mutters and stands back, blowing a puff of smoke out of his mouth.

For several minutes the two of you are silent, standing side by side and smoking. You wonder if this is a test or something. Why is he still here? Does he want to talk to you? Is this a trick? What does he want? You glance over at him and you're a little shocked when you realize he's staring at you. A chill runs down your spine and your heart skips a beat. You avert your eyes, but you can still feel him watching you. It's unnerving and uncomfortable, but you're also strangely turned on. You can feel the heat rising in your cheeks. You can't tell if you're blushing because he's so close, or because he's been staring at you. Either way, it's embarrassing.

After several more painfully awkward minutes, you clear your throat. "Did you need something from me, sir?" You ask, breaking the silence between the two of you. You can't handle the tension anymore. It's thick and heavy and smothering. If this continues any longer, you'll have a heart attack or spontaneously combust. It's one of the two. Maybe both. This is not good for your health.

He looks down at you, cocking his head to the side. "Do I need a reason to stand outside and smoke?" He asks his tone light and mocking. You can feel the condescension dripping from his voice. He takes another drag of his cigarette and blows the smoke into your face, causing you to cough and sputter. He laughs. You scowl and wave your hand in front of your face, trying to dispel the smoke and glare at him. His grin widens and he gives you a playful nudge. It's not forceful enough to send you sprawling to the ground, but it's not a gentle touch either. He's still stronger than he looks.

"Why don't we have smoke breaks when you smoke?" You ask, genuinely curious.

"Because Henry wants to promote healthy habits, you numpty." He replies, rolling his eyes. "We can't very well preach healthy eating and exercise habits and then turn around and tell our customers that we support and encourage unhealthy smoking habits. It'd make us hypocrites." He shrugs and takes another drag of his cigarette before adding, "Or so he says."

"So why are you-" You start to ask, but he interrupts you with a scoff.

"I'm a hypocrite." He deadpans, a slight smirk on his face.

That elicits a soft chuckle from you. "I can't argue with that." You smile a little and he returns the gesture. He's actually smiling at you and you feel your chest tighten and your heart starts beating rapidly. This is a bad sign. Your pulse is racing and your palms are getting sweaty. You've always been attracted to him, but the way he's been acting has really caught you off guard. Maybe he's just being nice. That could be a possibility. But then again, it's William Afton. Being nice isn't his style. You try not to dwell on it too much. You're going to get ahead of yourself if you keep thinking like this. It's just a smoke break. He's not flirting with you, he's just smoking. You're being silly.

Still, the butterflies in your stomach are making it difficult to stay calm. He's so close and he smells amazing and his presence is intoxicating and you're losing your mind. You take a deep breath and try to focus on something else. Anything else. Anything to distract you from this situation. You look up at the sky, but the clouds have gotten a lot darker since the last time you looked up. The air feels different, heavy. You can smell the rain coming. You finish off your cigarette and flick it away. The wind is picking up. You're going to have to get back inside soon or you're going to get wet.

You put your cigarette out on the wall behind you and toss it into the dumpster. You glance over at William, who's still smoking away. His eyes are closed and his head is tilted back. He looks so relaxed. You've never seen him like this before. He's always wound up so tightly, always so tense and rigid, but right now he looks completely at ease. His shoulders are loose, his posture is open, his jaw isn't clenched, his expression is calm.

You start to head back inside but stop when you hear him call your name. You turn around and see him looking at you. His expression is blank, giving nothing away. You have no idea what he's thinking or feeling. You hesitate, unsure if you should even answer him or not. He beckons you back and you approach him, a little hesitant. You're not sure what he wants, but you know you can't ignore him. If he wants you to do something, you have to do it. You won't defy him, even if it means doing something you might not want to do. It's not an issue of obedience, it's an issue of respect.

“You know you’re not supposed to smoke around here,” he takes a long drag from his cigarette.

You’re not sure why but you sort of expected him to be cool with you smoking, especially since you lent him one of your cigarettes. You already don’t get paid enough so you can’t afford to get paid less than this.

“No, what? You can’t.”

“Oh? Why can’t I?” He’s now staring you straight in the eyes, towering over you. You’d be lying if you said it didn’t turn you on a lot. The feeling of being vulnerable to someone to someone has always had a way of exciting you. You find yourself at a loss for words and stumble over the non-existent words you’re trying to get out.

"I could let this go, though." His eyes narrow as he continues, "what're you willing to give me for your freedom?"

His question catches you off guard, causing your breath to hitch. You can't be suggesting what you think he's suggesting, right? Surely, he can't be implying that you give him something in exchange for him not ratting you out, can he? The way he's staring at you makes it difficult to think clearly. His gaze is intense, burning into you.

You consider saying no, but the words are caught in your throat. You don't want to risk losing your job over a couple of smokes. "What do you mean?"

William leans forward and whispers in your ear, "you know exactly what I mean." He pulls back slightly, his face inches from yours. His expression is hard and cold. He looks so intimidating, but you can't help but find him incredibly attractive. The thought of submitting to him makes you weak in the knees. It's wrong, but it's also really hot. You can't deny the way your heart is pounding in your chest. Your breath catches in your throat and you bite your lip. Your mind is racing. You want him. You want him to take control. You want him to dominate you. It's a dangerous game, but you can't resist. You don't want to. The temptation is too strong, too powerful. You can't stop yourself. You can't fight it.

Your lips meet his and he kisses you deeply, his tongue exploring your mouth. You can taste the cigarette on his breath, along with something else, something sweet. He tastes delicious and you moan into his mouth. He pulls away and looks down at you, a grin on his face. "Hand." He demands. You're not sure why he's treating you like some kind of dog, but you're kind of into it. You oblige and put your hand out only to be met by a sickening burn. Your eyes widen in shock and you yelp as you watch him put out his cigarette butt on your arm.

You stare up at him, your heart pounding. You're not sure if you're turned on or afraid. Probably both. Definitely both. His eyes are dark and dangerous. They're filled with lust and power. He's got you right where he wants you. You're trapped. He has complete control over you and he knows it.

Before you can react, his lips are on your neck and your back is against the wall. He's kissing and biting, leaving bruises and marks all over your skin. You squirm beneath him, whimpering. He chuckles and his hand slips into your pants, cupping your cunt. His fingers press into your slit and your hips buck involuntarily. You moan and squeeze your thighs together, trapping his hand. His other hand moves to your breasts and begins squeezing and kneading. You arch your back, pressing your body against his.

He grinds his palm into your clit and you moan. His teeth graze your neck and his breath is hot against your skin. His fingers slip inside you and your walls contract around him. He bites down hard, drawing blood. You gasp and he grins against your skin.

He pulls his hand away and takes a step back. "Get on your knees." He orders. You obey without hesitation. Your legs are shaking and your knees are weak, but you manage to lower yourself onto the ground. Your head is spinning and you're dizzy. His fingers are sticky with your juices and he brings them up to your mouth.

"Open." He commands. You part your lips and his fingers slip into your mouth. Your tongue swirls around his digits, tasting yourself. It's salty and sweet and it makes your stomach flip. He pulls his fingers out of your mouth and places his hand on your head. He strokes your hair and leans forward, whispering in your ear, "that's a good girl."

Goosebumps rise on your arms and a shiver runs down your spine. The way he says that sends a thrill through you. Your pulse quickens and your heart beats faster. Your pussy is aching and throbbing and you want more. You need more. Your fingers slide down and press against your clit. He watches you with amusement as you pleasure yourself. His dick is straining against his pants and his hand moves to unbuckle his belt.

He frees his dick and strokes it slowly, rubbing the tip against your cheek. You look up at him, eyes wide, pleading. You can feel his hot, hard dick pressed against your skin. You're desperate for his cock. You need it inside you. You need him to fuck you. You whimper and whine and he chuckles. He grabs a handful of your hair and yanks your head back. Your scalp burns and you cry out in pain. Tears well up in your eyes and he smiles down at you, enjoying your discomfort. He pulls his hips back and thrusts his cock into your mouth. You gag as his length slides down your throat. Your body tenses and your eyes roll back in your head. You're choking, but you're unable to pull away. His grip is firm and he's not letting go any time soon.

"Go on." He commands. His voice is low and demanding. He doesn't have to tell you twice. You take his entire length down your throat, gagging and choking. His balls slap against your chin and his tip hits the back of your throat. You moan and your throat contracts, sending vibrations throughout his dick. You can feel him getting harder and thicker and his breathing is growing ragged.

His fingers tug at your hair and his nails dig into your scalp. He's using your hair as a handle and he's pulling you up and down, fucking your mouth while you fuck yourself with your fingers. Your jaw aches and your eyes are watering. Your nose is running and your chin is dripping with drool. It's disgusting, but you can't help it. You can't stop yourself. You love being used like this. You love the pain and the humiliation. You love being degraded and demeaned. You're a slut and you're getting off on being treated like a piece of meat.

Your tongue wraps around his shaft and you suck, bobbing your head up and down, taking him as deep as you can. You can't fit his whole length into your mouth, but it doesn't matter. You're still pleasing him. His hips buck and he moans. His hands leave your head and move to your shoulders, holding you down.

Your pussy is drenched and your body is quivering. Your orgasm is building and you can feel it coming. You look up at him, tears streaking down your cheeks. Your eyes are wide and pleading. Your mouth is stuffed full of cock and you can't speak. Your pussy is begging for attention and you're desperate to cum. Your fingers move frantically, pumping in and out of your slick, wet hole. You can feel his tip sliding against the roof of your mouth and his thick shaft stretching your jaw. You're so close, you're almost there. Just a little bit more and-

"You wanna cum?" He asks, his voice strained. He's breathing heavily and his grip on your shoulders tightens. He's close too. You nod as best as you can and he smiles. He pulls his hips back and thrusts his dick back into your mouth. You gag and choke and he laughs. His cock twitches and you can feel him shooting his hot, sticky load into your throat. He's cumming hard and he's not holding back. He's using you. He's using your mouth like a fleshlight. He's making you his own personal toy. You're a living, breathing sex doll and he's having his way with you. It's disgusting and perverted and it makes you so horny.

His cum overflows from your mouth and drips down your chin as you try your best to swallow it all. It's a struggle and it's making a mess, but it's worth it. It's so fucking worth it.

Before you know it, he's zipping himself back up and making way to the door. You're panting, trying to catch your breath. Your throat is sore and raw. Your jaw aches. You're covered in sweat and tears. Your face is sticky and your mouth is still full of his seed. And you're still fucking yourself.

"You can cum now, pretty girl." He says and walks back inside. You do as you're told and orgasm, letting out a pathetic moan. As much as you wanted to, you couldn't help yourself. You needed to cum. You were a mess, covered in spit and cum and tears. Your hair is a tangled mess and you can't see straight. You're exhausted and completely spent. Your muscles are sore and your legs are weak. You're shaking and your chest is heaving. You're a total wreck.

But, hey, at least you keep your pay.

#william afton #william afton fnaf #fanfic #fnaf fanfic #tags are so stupid

[shayneedscoffee]

Mom's Lost Diary

genre- murder mystery??, angst, found footage-ish

word count- 2597

summery- Joseph's parents had been murdered 10 years ago. The police never found his mom's body or any suspect, making it a cold case. So when a old beat up box appeared on their death anniversary filled with his mother's personal belongings Joseph can't help but sort through it, hoping to finally put this case to rest.

content warnings- mentions and descriptions of abuse, blood, murder, a gun

author's comments- i wrote this for my 11th grade creative writing class and i haven't touched it since. will probably revise it in a year to make it better but for now here it is.

November 21, 1998 Vancouver, Canada. A typical fall Saturday morning, wind was blowing the leaves around the yard. All was calm in the Dela Cruz household. Their house was just big enough for Joseph, Lolo and Lola. Joseph Padilla was Lolo and Lola’s Grandson, he had moved in when his parents were brutally murdered exactly 13 years ago in their California home. 

Viewed as the perfect family by others, the Padillas were respected and looked up to. His father William Padilla was a successful businessman who ran an up and coming tech company. William was one of the smartest members of the community, always lending his intelligence to people who needed help. His mother, Bea Dela Cruz, was an influential member of their church back in California. She took in victims of domestic violence and abuse, and helped them get back on their feet. 

November 21 1988, tragedy struck the Padilla house. Joseph woke up and the police were surrounding his house. Within minutes, his life as he knew it was stripped away. Lola and Lolo took him in, and he moved to Vancouver. William’s body was found burned and buried a few miles away from their house. His mothers body was nowhere to be found. 

“ANAK! THERE IS A PACKAGE HERE FOR YOU.” Lola’s commanding voice echoes through the whole house. “Hey, Joseph, did you not hear me? Are you going deaf? There is a package for you,” Lola’s voice calming down as she reaches Joseph's room upstairs. 

“Lola, I never ordered anything?” Joseph’s brain worked overtime trying to figure out why he received the package.

“Well it’s not mine, I'm too busy cooking and cleaning everyday. Your Lolo never gets up from his stupid chair unless it’s to get food, so it can’t be his.” Lola stated the obvious. “So either you take it or I’ll send it back to the post office.”

“Okay okay I’ll take it, '' Joseph decided. He knew it could have been something dangerous, but he felt drawn to it. Something was calling out to him. Pulling him in, he was a moth and the box was a flame. As he continued to study the box, he became more desperate to know its contents. Was it useless junk sent to him as a prank? Or was it more, could there be a possibility that the answers to all his questions were in the box? 

“Hey Anak, stop staring at it like it will kill you, it’s just a box my god. Also you look like you just woke up, go brush your hair and take a shower, you smell like the outside.” Lola scoffed, disgusted by Joseph’s current appearance. Pulled away from his spiralling thoughts by reality. He came to the conclusion that despite his hope for answers, he would most likely be disappointed.

“Okay I will, let me just open this first,” he forced a smile so that Lola would leave him alone. Lola glared at him as she crept out of his room, knowing that he wouldn't do what she asked. 

He studied the box for a good five minutes before opening it. It was a regular brown box with the bright red fragile sticker on the top left. A little beat up from transportation, with watermarks on the bottom. It wasn’t the heaviest box, weighing no more than 2 pounds. The most intriguing part was the return label, St. Helena, California, his hometown. Anticipation, desperation and anxiety fought within him. This could be exactly what he’s looking for, but then what if it’s not? He’s been looking for answers all his life and this box could give it to him. But what if the truth is too much to handle? What should he do then? 

When he finally opened the box Joseph almost threw up from the smell. It smelt of rotting paper and dust, like he had opened up an ancient cave full of secrets.

Joseph studied the contents of the box for what felt like hours. One of the items was a cream coloured music box, with a tiny elephant on top. Engraved on the bottom was March 27 1983, the day he was born. Another was a picture frame with a couple inside. They looked to be in their 20’s, they were happy and clearly in love. The woman was laughing all while the man was hugging her, smiling at her with the most pure form of love imaginable. Staring at the photo more closely, Joseph had recognized that it was his parents. Memories slowly come back to him, yet the full picture was still blurry. 

In the very corner, Joseph noticed something wrapped in bubble wrap. He had a feeling that whatever was wrapped in there, it was the answer to all of his questions. When unwrapped, 5 different cassette tapes fell onto his lap, along with a cassette player and headphones. The tapes were a little beat up, a few scratches on the plastic cover, and years written on the front, starting at 1983 going up to 1988. They were just ordinary cassette tapes, nothing special or significant.

After examining the tapes, Joseph’s shoulders dropped. His face painted with disappointment hanging low in his hands. All the anticipation is gone. They were just playlists his parents had made. “I can’t believe it, I really thought I was going to get answers.” Feeling a lump in his throat, tears falling down his face, Joseph started putting everything away. Carefully placing each item back into the beat up box. He made sure that they were all placed securely. If this was the last bits of his childhood and parents, they should be treasured. 

Picking the tapes up, a chill went down his spine. Overcome with the urge to listen to the tapes. The feeling was overpowering, as if God himself had taken over his body. So he started with 1983, his birth year. At first the cassette played music, but after 2 minutes a voice came through. 

“Hello Joseph,” a soft voice came through the cassette. “My name is Bea Padilla, but you know me as Mom.” Joseph stopped the tape, heartache overwhelming him. Up until now, he had forgotten what his mother’s voice sounded like. “Today March 28 1983, one day after your birth. I’m still in the hospital, your dad is in the food court getting us food. You’re right beside me sleeping peacefully for the first time.”

The first tape recounted the first year of his life. The joy was overwhelmingly apparent in his mother’s voice. Joseph could tell she was excited to see him grow up. To see her baby achieve his dreams and live his life to the fullest. Suddenly, he was unable to breathe, the lump in his throat grew bigger each second. Listening to his mom made him face the reality he lives. A reality where his mother and father are gone, forever. A reality where they are never able to see him grow. 

“Happy New Year my precious Darling, I can’t wait to spend the rest of my life loving you and being your mom. God gave me you to take care of and I promise to never take that for granted.” The first tape ended and Joseph quickly scrambled for the next tape.

This time the taping didn’t start with music, but his mom and dad greeting him. “Hi Joseph, it’s mom and dad. We’re so grateful to-” 

“HONEY STOP STEPPING ON MY FOOT” William roared. His voice was one of a general commanding his army. A lion's roar heard throughout the jungle. The world stopped for a second, fear taking over Joseph’s body.

“I was just trying to reach the-” Bea’s voice shaking, panic coursing through her. Even through the recording, Joseph could see his mom. Quivering, knees giving out, pleading with just her eyes for mercy.

“I DON'T CARE! YOU KNOW WHAT TURN OFF THE TAPE,” William continues to scream. Joseph hears Bea’s shaky breathing in the background. “I SAID TURN IT OFF-” 

*SCREECH* “Hi Baby, it’s mom, hopefully I can delete that. Your Dad is a wonderful person, he didn’t mean any of that.” Bea’s sniffles and wavering voice didn’t go unnoticed. Quickly pausing the tape, Joseph felt sick to his stomach. 

Yanking the headphones out of his ears, Joseph ran down to his grandparents. He knew that if anyone would tell him the truth, it would be Lola and Lolo.

“Anak, how many times do I have to tell you, don’t run in the house,” Lola calmly explains while staring down at the stove. “You know, I’m making your favourite, Arroz Caldo, I heard you crying,” Looking up at Joseph, Lola furrows her brows. “Anak, are you okay? You look like you saw a ghost. Do you have a fever? It was something in that box huh? I will go throw everything out, go hang out with your Lolo-”

“Lola,” Joseph starts. “Can you be 100% honest with me?”

“Of course anak, I promise. What happened?” Growing more and more concerned, she turns off the stove.

“Well, what was Dad like?” Growing more and more anxious Joseph hangs his head low. Scared to look into Lola’s eyes.

“Oh well-”

“HE WAS AN ASSHOLE!” Lolo yelled from the living room. Getting up from his beloved rocking chair, “Your dad wasn’t a nice man.”

“Mahal, don’t say that!” Hitting Lolo on the arm with a spatula. “Your Lolo isn’t completely wrong though anak.”

“Then if he wasn’t a good man, what happened?” Joseph was desperate, pleading with them to tell him the truth. 

Lola glanced at Lolo, her face speaking a thousand words alone. Lips pursed, brows furrowed, wrinkles more defined. “Anak, are you sure you want to know? You can never go back and look at your parents the same way ever again.”

“Yes Lola I’m sure, just please, please tell me.” Begging for answers, Lolo led all three of them to the living room.

“It was some random day in January I think,” Lolo recounted, “We were invited over for dinner by your parents. Your father was obviously not happy with Bea. Every sentence was used to belittle your mother. After a while he just got up and left.”

“Probably annoyed that no one agreed with him.” Lola muttered under her breath.

“Anyways your mom tried to check on him. But all we heard was him screaming at her ‘You're embarrassing me’ and ‘You could never be the person I need!’ Never ending jabs at your mother” Lolo scoffed.

For the next hour, Joseph learned the truth about his dad. The way he treated others was more terrifying than he could even begin to imagine. Using them, cheating on Bea, coming home drunk. William’s answer to every question was violence. It was a game of survival to him, strike first was his motto, and his target was anyone who dared to get in his way. 

He only remembers the man that everyone loved on the outside. His dad, who played with him every chance he got. The one who would throw him up in the air and catch him. It’s as if the tapes threw him up in the air, bringing joy and closure to this chapter. But instead of catching him, the truth dug a hole through the earth and let him fall through it.

As scared as Joseph was he had to know more. There was a reason the package was sent to him. Someone knew his dad’s true side, and Joseph felt obligated to expose that side to the world.

“Joseph,” Lola’s calm voice interrupting his thoughts. “Be careful, you never know what you can uncover. I’m here for you but I can’t shield you from everything.” Lola warned.

Rushing up the stairs and down the hallway, the door slammed shut right behind him, Joseph dived for the last tape. His gut feeling being that whatever he was looking for is in that tape. Heart and mind racing a mile a minute, the last of Joseph’s innocence and youth slips away. His clammy hands make it difficult to do anything. Fumbling with the headphones, slightly tangling them in the process, he hits play not wanting to waste a second more. 

November 21, 1988 8:17 pm - St. Helena, California

“Hi Joseph, it’s me, Mom. Right now it’s 8:17 pm. I’m sitting in the living room on your favourite couch, the huge cream one with a million throw pillows.” Bea whispers into the recorder, clearly on edge. She huddles in the corner of the couch, hiding from someone. A prey who knows it has no chance against the big lion. “Anyways, your father isn’t home yet so I’m recording this message just in case something happens to me. Your father isn’t who-” 

“HONEY I'M HOME! DID YOU MISS ME? BECAUSE BOY, I HAVE SOME NEWS FOR YOU!” William screams are slurred. Stumbling from the entryway to the living room, his eyes find their target. “You know Darling~ I love you so,” William moves closer and closer to Bea’s face. His breath reeked of alcohol and smoke. Bea sinks deeper into the couch until it no longer gives way. “So tell me then my love~, WHY DO YOU KEEP EMBARRASSING ME!” 

  William grabs her by her neck, choking the life out of her damaged body. Feeling the life rapidly leaving her body, Bea prays a silent prayer for her son. As she slips out of consciousness, she feels a metal object underneath her fingertips. She recognizes the object as the gun she had secretly purchased in case this day ever came. Overcome with strength one can only assume came from God, Bea whips out the gun and points it right in between William’s eyes.

“No no no, honey please, please,” William sobs and begs. He lets go of Bea who takes a second to catch her breath. Still keeping the gun pointed towards him in the process. “I promise, I promise with my life that it won’t happen again. I’ll do anything- just please, don’t do this.” Animals like sobs course throughout the house. Every inch and crevasse is filled with pleads for his life.

Pausing for a second, Bea’s life flashes through her head. The good times from when they were young play back in her mind. Lips trembling uncontrollably, tears flowing down her face, the feeling of a heart attack. But then she remembered the man that he had become. She saw the evil that had taken over his body. The faces of all the women she had helped escape the reality that she was living in. All that energy stored in her system since the day it started. Pent up, just wait for the right moment.

“Darling, please, please thinking about-” *BAM*BAM*BAM*

The tape comes to an end. Hyperventilating was an understatement, a heart attack paled in comparison to how Joseph feels right now. Sweat dripped from his forehead on the cassette player. His trance was broken by a scream coming from downstairs. Although trembling, Joseph does his best to make it down.

“Oh my God! What are you doing here!” Lola shrieks. A woman dressed in all black is at his doorstep. Lola was hugging her and checking her whole body as if she was shot. Taking off her long black trench coat she steps inside looking back outside as if someone was watching her. Abruptly, her head turns to face him. Her eyes soften for a second, a small smile appears. Becoming more and more confused Joseph breaks the tension. 

“Who are you?” 

#creative writing #writing

[sokkas-first-fangirl]

So if I ever get around to writing a Sonic Underground AU, I’d have Pip visit all three Warners to reveal they’re royalty, not just Yakko.

With that in mind, here’s Dot’s visit with him

*

Dot felt like her brain was melting from her ears, though a quick glance in the mirror told her that wasn’t the case. This guy wouldn’t shut up!

She’d admit she had a temper, but this guy (Pip? Hadn’t he called himself Pip? It felt like hours ago now) made her blood boil like no one else ever had. She was seconds away from bashing him with her mallet, or running from the room; maybe tossing him out the window. The idea made her smile despite her mounting anger.

“And so I gave your mother and father a prophesy; as I recall it was a dark and stormy night, unseasonable weather really, but quite symbolic and appropriate I suppose...” he continued to drawl.

Dot banged her head on the table. Clearly, Pip had the wrong girl. Her adoptive mother’s husband had died long before she ever took Dot in. She’d never had a father-figure.

“You will form the Council of Five and defeat King Salazar. It is your destiny, Princess Angelina, to find your brothers and-”

Hold up. Pause. Record scratch.

What?

Dot raised her head, gaping at Pip. If he noticed her stunned gaze, he gave no indication: he just kept talking on and on in that dull monotone. He looked vaguely sleepy. His expression hadn’t changed once, not even when Dot had thrown a plate at him, startled by his sudden appearance.

“What- what did you call me!?” Dot stood, heart pounding. Angelina. No one ever called her that. Most people didn’t even know that was her full name.

Pip blinked at her, not at all deterred by the interruption.

“Princess Angelina Contessa Louisa Francesca Banna Fanna Bo Besca Warner The Third,” he said. “The youngest child and only daughter of Queen Angelina The Wise and King William The Good. Little sister to Crown Prince Yakkory and Prince Wakkorotti, otherwise known as Yakko and Wakko.” For the first time, there was something like emotion in Pip’s voice; he sounded ever-so-vaguely fond.

Yakko. Wakko. Those names tugged on her heart strings, though she couldn’t say why.

She clutched her pendant, her head spinning. 

“You’re serious,” Dot said blankly.

“Of course,” Pip said. “This is no laughing matter, Princess. The fate of Warnerstock is at stake. We have lived under the tyranny of King Salazar for too long. Your parents have waited too long. It is time to begin at last, as fate foretold. As I said, it was a dark and stormy night, rather unseasonable weather, but...”

Dot stopped listening.

Their country hadn’t been called Warnerstock in ten years. Ever since she was a baby, it had been known as Ticktockia. To call it Warnerstock was treason; to acknowledge the lost royals was treason. Here Pip was, a deadly dull man, popping into her home as if by magic and casually committing treason.

Casually turning Dot’s life upside down.

“I have brothers?” she whispered. Her pendant seemed to warm in her hand as she said it, almost humming. A melody echoed in her ears.

“Two brothers,” Pip said with a nod. “And soon the three of you will be reunited.”

#sonic underground au #dot warner #yakko warner #wakko warner #animaniacs #my writing #snippets #writing plans #animaniacs fanfic #yakko wakko and dot #pip (animaniacs) #pip the oracle boring the warners to death #queen angelina warner #king william warner #the warner siblings #princess angelina contessa louisa francesca banana fanna bo besca iii #francis pumphandle

[imagines-by-a-typical-fangirl]

White Lies (Pt. 16 of 21)

Pairing: Keanu Reeves X Reader

Word count: 2.8 K

Summary: Keanu found the girl almost dead, in the wrecks of what was once her car. While she was in surgery, stuck in a coma, he gathered the best doctors of New York to attend to her. They told him she is likely to have some kind of brain damage, what may lead to memory loss. And this possibility added up wit the fact that she's pregnant, made the council come up with an odd idea. They asked Keanu to pretend to be her husband, since the stress of finding out everything that happened could put the baby in danger. He reluctantly agreed, but only if she does has some kind of memory loss. He still goes she'll wake up soon, with her memories intact.

But when you finally wake up, there's nothing inside. You're quick to find your head is empty, void, like a blank canvas. The only thing that brings you some relief, that makes you feel less lonely is the mention of a husband. And you can't wait to meet him, because you know you can't deal with this by yourself.

<- Previous part (15)

Next part (17)->

{Keanu Reeves Masterlist}

{John Wick Masterlist}

×

Birth

Dr. Williams and two other nurses are the only ones here besides Keanu. You've been in agonizing pain for over an hour now, but it's finally time.

“You're completely dilated now.” Dr. Williams says from her place in between your legs. “You just have to push, alright? Can you do it?”

“No.” You cry, many tears staining your cheeks, hair attached to your face because of the sweat. The pain is too great, and you're conflicted by Keanu's presence. And you just can't. “I can't. I want a cesarian.” Pleading, you rest your back against the bed, hands covering your face.

“We can't perform a cesarian now.” Dr. Williams says. “(Y/N), you're ready. Your baby is coming and I get it that you're scared, but you're almost there. Just push.”

“I can't. I can't.” Voicing breaking, you feel as the sobs shake your body.

“(Y/N).” Keanu's voice reaches you, ripping through the chaos. Your eyes find him, standing away. But soon enough he comes closer, taking your hand. “You can do this, sweetheart. I know you can.”

Nodding, you close your eyes tight and push, biting back a groan as it feels like all strength is leaving your body. You can't faint now... You have no idea what would happen if you pass out.

“Good, (Y/N). Again.” Dr. Williams says, and so you do it.

“I can't.” Shoulders shaking, you squeeze Keanu's hand.

“I can see the head. A big push and it's over, (Y/N), c'mon.”

“One more,” Keanu repeats, moving to seat on the bed next to you. Nothing else matters now, and everything that happened is forgotten. You need him, so you just move, the best you can, your back against his chest as his free hand comes to grab your thigh, keeping your legs spread. “One more push and you'll meet Liam, sweetheart, you can do it.”

His voice brings you a new strength, and you turn your face to look at him, a hand finding its way to his face, pulling him closer so you can kiss him. Then, with your eyes still closed, you hold on to his biceps and push, with whatever strength still left inside you. You're almost giving up when a cry fills the hospital room, the pain surrenders, and Dr. Williams stands up straight, holding a tiny little human in her arms.

“Here he is.” She says, smiling. “I'll clean him up and I'll hand him over to you, alright?”

Still catching your breath, you nod, lying back down, colliding on Keanu's chest. The doctors do their stuff as you try to calm down after all this effort. You knew it wouldn't be easy, but you never thought it would be this hard. “I can leave if you want.” He says, letting go of your thigh. There will be a bruise there, but you don't mind.

“No.” You're quick to answer, voice a little harsh. Part of you doesn't want to need him, to love him this much, but you do. The heart wants what it wants. It loves who it loves. “Stay to meet the baby.”

“Alright.”

It takes a few minutes until Dr. Williams brings Liam to you. He's wrapped around a pale blue blanket since Keanu remembered to bring your bag when he went to pick you up at the hotel. And he's absolutely beautiful, so light you barely feel him in your arms.

“Hi, baby.” You whisper, barely hearing your own voice. Slowly, you touch his forehead with your fingers, softly, as if he's made of glass. You can't control the tears rolling down, but they're from joy this time. You can't believe you're finally seeing him, face to face, after carrying him inside you for so long. He moves his mouth a little, and slowly, he opens his eyes, curiously looking around before blinking a few times. “It's mommy, little one. And...” The words get caught in your throat, your heart sinking a little. “...And daddy...” You push out because Dr. Williams said babies can recognize the parents' voice from the moment they're born, and the father's voice belongs to Keanu, and you know how much it hurts to miss this man, you don't want Liam to feel the same pain. Turning your head to look at Keanu, you're surprised to find teary eyes focused on the baby. “D-do you want to talk to him?”

He nods, glancing at you. He does love this child, that's not up to discussion. “Hi there, little one.” He starts, voice a little clouded. “It's so good to finally meet you.” Liam seems to find you with his eyes, and they move from Keanu and back at you.

“Excuse me, Mr. and Mrs. Reeves.” Dr. Williams says, and the way she addresses you makes you move uncomfortably. “I must take the baby now. Run a few exams to be sure he's one hundred percent fine. Then we'll bring him back so you can feed him”

“Alright...” You don't want to let him go yet, but you knew about these exams. “Keanu, can you... Just keep an eye on him?” You ask in a low voice before Dr. Williams comes to take Liam from your arms.

“Sure.” Keanu slowly gets up, and you feel a little abandoned. But you shouldn't. You shouldn't have him this close, and you definitely shouldn't have kissed him.

But you can't take those things back. And you're not sure if you would if there was a chance.

You spend two days in the hospital, with Dr. Williams teaching you everything you'll need to know. But you've been taking classes, and reading many things about how to take care of your baby, so you think you can do it. Well, at least the theory. Laura comes to visit, and so does Lucia. Keanu doesn't leave except to shower and have dinner. Other than that, he's always around.

But the day comes when you can leave, so you bathe, dress up and wait for the nurse to bring Liam. You were trying not to think too much about it, but eventually, you have to. As you thank and watch the nurse leaving, you see as Keanu comes in, always a little embarrassed, avoiding your stare, head low. You haven't spoken much. Actually, you haven't said anything to him since the birth. You did thought he'd leave after that, but surprisingly, he stayed.

Holding Liam on one arm, very, very carefully, you try to pick up your bag. “Let me.” Keanu quickly says, making you stop your motion, eyes following him around as he takes the bag himself. “I can drive you wherever you'll be staying.” The words come out heavy as if they're piercing through his throat. “Or a cab, if–”

“No.” Cutting him short, you shake your head. There isn't anywhere else. The hotel is out of question, as is Lucia. And you don't want to crowd Laura's apartment with a loud, crying baby. And the house is ready to receive Liam, so, for now, there's no other place. “For Liam's sake, I believe it would be better if we stayed at your place. If that's not a problem for you, of course.” It takes a lot of effort not to call his place ‘home’. Because that's what that place is.

“Of course not.” He seems perplexed, furrowing his eyebrows a little before gesturing at the door. “Let's go.”

“Let's go.” You mutter, setting in motion.

• • •

Liam proved that knowing the theory doesn't mean you'll nail the real thing. At first, you find it strange that he sleeps too much, even though you read that newborn babies sleep for like seventeen hours a day, only to wake up when they're hungry. And that happens every two to three hours, which means you barely have any sleep. But you're completely focused on him, jumping to your feet whenever you hear that low-pitched cry.

You also start with the postpartum exercises, which was already planned, with a personal trainer that comes three times a week, so your body will go back to normal. You dropped many pounds very quickly. These things aren't that important, not now at least, that everything got real and you're still trying to deal with the web of lies you were caught into, but the routine gives you something else to think about.

The diet is carefully followed too, but that's all Keanu. You don't really see him, since you confined yourself to the guest room, where Liam is also sleeping in his crib, but the meals are always ready. He doesn't even give you the chance to cook something. When you go downstairs to eat, there's something ready for you.

The first month goes by slowly, and you're starting to get the hang of things. Since Liam spends most of the day in the bedroom with you, you asked Keanu to take him for his daily morning walks around the neighborhood. You agree with Laura, you can't and won't pull Liam away from him.

Sometime around Liam's second month, you're checking your face in the mirror. You look terribly tired, and you feel even worse. But the exhaustion is worth it, and you get a reminder every time you see or hear Liam. Taking a step back, you take a look at your body. You did recover from the baby weight pretty quickly since sometimes you have nothing to do but to keep repeating the exercises. You barely remember how you looked before.

Despite being a little early, you decide to call it a night, curling up in bed. You did miss sleeping on your stomach, but you spent so much time sleeping on your side that you just feel a lot more comfortable like this. You're having some kind of dream, about a peaceful beach when you're awakened by a gentle shake on your shoulder. Breathing deeply, you slowly float back into consciousness, raising your head and finding Keanu seated on the bed with a teary Liam on his arms.

“What happened?” You ask, already pushing yourself into a sitting position.

“Liam was crying. You didn't hear it so I came and changed him. But I think he's hungry.” Keanu says in a low voice, and you take Liam from his arms.

“I'm sorry he woke you up. I... I'm just tired.” You're surprised you fell in such a deep sleep you didn't hear Liam. “Thanks, though.” Sliding the strap from your tank top down your shoulder, you open the bra, freeing your breast which is easily found by Liam. It takes a while until you get reminded of Keanu's presence, your senses overcome by the need to feed your baby. So you give him a look, and you find his eyes locked on his hands cupped together on his lap.

“You don't have to thank me. I'm here if you need me.”

“Why did you do this, Keanu?” You didn't want to talk about it, but there's a freaking elephant in the room and you can't take it anymore. And you need to hear it from him because you're not sure where you're going from now. You're living one day after the other, but still, you feel lost. Clueless. “Why did you lie to me like that?”

“They told me you could lose the baby.” He begins, sad eyes finding yours. “Depending on how you'd take the news about the memory loss, Daniel's death, and the pregnancy. Dr. Wright said you were too hurt already, and your body wouldn't be able to deal with the stress.”

“Then it wasn't your idea.”

Silently, he shakes his head no. “I knew it wasn't fair to you. You needed Daniel, not me, a complete stranger, but if anything happened to you or the baby because I didn't agree with that crazy idea I'd never forgive myself.”

You're about to say something when Liam makes a little noise, and you look down at him. “Slowly, baby, slowly.” You whisper, caressing his cheek before speaking to Keanu again. “Why did you... Why did you...”

“Because I was in love with you by then.” He answers, knowing exactly what you're talking about. “I didn't want to. I mean, I did, I just... I knew I should have stopped, but I couldn't. I loved you so much. I love you so much and I–”

“I felt so violated. I thought I was making love with my husband, not with a stranger.” The words are harsh, but they're true. And the truth must be spoken.

“I'm so sorry, (Y/N). And I completely understand if you hate me.”

“I hate that I love you.” Muttering, you focus on the baby in your arms because you can't bring yourself to stare at Keanu anymore. “But I do. And it sucks because I feel that everything you told me was a lie. The first ‘I love you’ certainly was.”

He takes a deep breath, and you feel his eyes burning on you. “The first was, but all the other times...” Keanu moves closer, and you raise your eyes to meet his. “I love you. And I hate myself for everything I did, but I did it for you. And for Liam. I was terrified that you'd leave after knowing the truth, that you'd never want to look at me again but I rather have you hating me than seeing you or the baby in danger.”

“Ke, I...” You don't know what to say, and you curse yourself for calling him that.

“The only thing I need to know, if you have any affection for me, even if it's as small as a speck of dust... Please... Is there any chance we could... Somehow make this–”

“I don't know.” Cutting him off, you feel a tear rolling down, so you look away. The hurt in his voice breaks your heart, and you want to hug him, kiss him. “I don't know. I-I'm here, and I don't know what to do next... I have feelings for you but I'm still heartbroken. I don't know when I'll be able to... Look at you as I did before. You're not my husband, and I'm not Mrs. Reeves.”

“And Liam is not my son, I know that.” With a heavy sigh, he gets up, making his way to the door.

But you won't let him go, not until he hears it. Not until he hears the truth. Now, more than ever, the truth is a sacred thing, and you will speak it, it doesn't matter how you feel about it. The truth is above that. “You may not be his biological father, but I'll let you be his father.” You raise your voice just a little for him to stop, but not enough to bother Liam. “He grew up inside me listening to your voice, feeling your presence, if that's even possible, and influenced by all the love I have for you. And I won't take that away from Liam, I know he loves you.” It's pretty clear that the baby knows Keanu. He feels good when held by him, and when for some reason the morning walks can't happen, Liam cries his heart out, only to be put to rest if Keanu takes a fake walk with him through the house. “If you love him... It doesn't matter what will be of us, I want you to be around Liam.”

His eyes are intense, full of sadness, confusion, and things you can't understand. “I do. I love this baby and I love you.”

“Then will you let us stay? Until... I don't know. Until somehow we figure this out. Because even if I move out, I won't be far.” You're trying not to cry, at least not in front of him. You don't know what will happen next, or when, but you're happy to know you'll be here today, and tomorrow, and the day after. Then... You'll see.

“(Y/N), you can stay here for as long as you want. This is... Your house too, even though you don't feel like it anymore.”

Nodding, you look down at Liam again, who already stopped sucking and has fallen asleep again. “He's out.”

“Do you want me to put him back in his crib?” He reluctantly offers. Keanu is back at the very beginning of this. Distant, trying not to make you feel uncomfortable.

“Yes, please.” Slowly, you pull him off your breast, quickly covering yourself before giving him to Keanu. You watch as the mountain of a man delicately puts Liam down, fixing the blankets around him before walking away.

“Good night, beautiful.” He says, immediately stopping by the door and looking at you. “I'm sorry, I shouldn't have called you–”

“Good night, Ke.” You mutter, turning on your side and closing your eyes shut again.

×

@multific @inumorph @aestheticallywinchester @bvbwestfall @liviiii98 @allie1804-fan @gian-giannina @playboygeniusphilanthropist @partypoison00 @mariafetamina @fortheloveoffanfic @trin303

#keanu reeves x reader #keanu reeves imagine #keanu reeves fanfiction #keanu reeves fanfic #imagine keanu reeves #keanu reeves

[cower-before-power]

Penny For Your Thoughts: Part 1

Summary: You’ve been harbouring feelings for your mighty squad captain for months. When you’re forced to share a bed during a mission, will you finally get the courage to tell him how you really feel?

Pairing: William Vangeance x GN Reader

TW: forced bed sharing (if that isn’t your thing)

PART TWO UP NOW HERE

A/N: I originally was writing this for a different fandom but abandoned it, when i found it again I thought why not use it for Black Clover? “There was only one bed” is one of my favourite tropes SO I WROTE IT. There will be part two when I get around to finishing it. Enjoy, sweet potatoes!

---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Sleep is dancing far out of your grip tonight. 

It’s not surprising, considering the less than fortuitous circumstances you find yourself in. It’s cold, almost absurdly so, and the curtains are far too thin to obscure the waxy shine of the full moon. Your body is stiff, unable to relax, lest you accidentally touch the softly snoring man beside you. 

He just had to accompany you on this mission. It had to be a double bed. It had to be the only room left. It had to be just your luck. 

Of course, you couldn’t predict the only inn for miles being so crowded.  The staff couldn’t predict your bottled up feelings. He couldn’t possibly predict how tortuous it would be for you when he said sharing the room would be fine.  He was smart, perceptive- but you’d shrouded yourself painstakingly, and he’d never seen past the protective haze. 

You were always good at hiding. 

You roll slowly onto your side, eyes falling on his relaxed form as he slumbers peacefully beside you. The moonlight throws every feature of his face into sharp relief, and the beauty of him hits you like a punch to the gut. 

Did angels ever find their way down to earth? Because you were pretty sure you were laying beside one. Even with the scar covering half his face, he was pure art come to life.  Something so breathtaking it just couldn’t be of this world. 

And it wasn’t just his looks. His insides-heart, soul, mind- were just as dazzling. He wasn’t perfect of course (you still sometimes found it hard to believe he a actually a certified criminal), but he was atoning for his sins and he never stopped trying to be more, be better. He was kind, supportive, gentle, humble. 

He was everything you wanted.

You hadn’t had much of a relationship with him when you first joined his squad, but then again, he was mostly someone else back then. In the months since the elves left, he had opened himself up to his Knights a great deal more. He stopped wearing his mask around the base, started up random conversations with those below him, attempted to get to know you and your squadmates more personally. And to your surprise, the two of you got along very well.

Before you knew it, the two of you had struck up what could be called a friendship. You often would walk in the garden, talking about everything and nothing all at once.  He was more human when he was just William, not Patri in disguise or the stoic Captain Vangeance. He was surprisingly easy to talk to, something about his calm aura that allowed you to be more candid with him then you were with anyone else. He listened to your worries, your fears, you problems. He laughed with delight at your stories of childhood antics. He offered advice when you asked. He even shared bits of himself, little by little peeling back the layers until you could see the wonderful soul shining underneath. 

He had captured your heart without even knowing it. It was pain to stand beside him and not spill the truth, but some piece of him was better than nothing at all. If you weren’t so scared of losing him, of having him go back to just being your aloof Captain, you’d tell him how you felt. 

But fear was an iron cage, and you couldn’t escape it. 

“You should be sleeping.”

You gasp, nearly jumping out of your skin. He cracks one eye open, his lips tugging softly up into a sleepy smile. 

“I thought you were asleep!” You place a hand on your chest, trying to calm your racing heart. 

“I was,” he rolls on his side to face you. “But then the incredibly loud sound of you thinking woke me up.”

You blush furiously. If only he knew what you had been thinking of. “I’m sorry. I....just can’t sleep. It’s too bright and cold in here.” And I’m in love with you and sharing a bed is proving too much, your brain adds. 

He hums, squinting his eyes at the offending lunar orb outside the window. “Well, I can’t do anything about the moon. But...I can help with the cold? If that’s okay.”

There’s a faint blush on his cheeks, and you’ve suddenly forgotten how to breathe. What he’s suggesting is wildly inappropriate. He is your captain, your superior. Surely warming up another is a duty saved for a life or death situation. And a  prolonged time so close to him might prove too painful once it was time to pull away. 

But you’re a glutton for punishment, and so you find yourself nodding at his offer. 

He pulls you to him gently, arms wrapping around you as you come to rest against him. Your legs automatically slot with his, his chin settling comfortably on the top of your head. His skin is warm, so impossibly warm, and you can’t help but burrow closer, eyes closed and heart pounding. 

It’s heaven and hell all at once. 

“Better?” He asks softly, and you simply nod, not trusting your voice to work. You lay in silence for a while, nothing but the sound of quiet breathing between you. His heartbeat thumps steadily beneath your ear. It’s a lovely sound, so full of vitality and a glorious reminder that he is alive. He’s alive and he’s here with you, and in the end, no matter how much it stings, that is really what matters. 

“You’re still thinking very loudly,” he breaks the silence, and you feel the words reverberate through his chest. “Penny for your thoughts?”

You shake your head. “It’s nothing. Not worth even a penny.”

“Don’t say that,” he says, and you can practically hear him frowning. “I value every single thought that comes out of your head. If something is bothering you, I’m here.”

How can you tell him? Tell him he’s the one making your thoughts so noisy, that he’s the reason you can’t sleep? It’s been eating at you so long, dying to break free, but you just....

“I don’t know,” you whisper. “You might not like what’s in my head.”

“Hey, look at me,” his voice is gentle but firm, and you pull away from his chest to meet his eyes. “You know you can always come to me with any problem, any thoughts, any thing that’s eating at you. I’ll always be here with an ear to listen and a shoulder to rest against, no matter what it is. You’re important to me.”

The sentiment sets butterflies fluttering in your chest, but you know he doesn’t mean it the way you want him to.  

“I know,” you drop your gaze away from his, unable to look any longer into the kind depths that are resting upon you. “I know. I mean, we are friends right? That’s what friends do.” The words choke you, constrict your throat and burn like yesterday’s stale cigarette smoke 

“Yes, we are friends,” he echoes, and a thick silence comes to rest over the room. It feels heavy, dense; an enormous pressure bearing down upon you. You suddenly feel like the room is closing in around you, everything feels hot and prickly and uncomfortable. There’s a volcano in your chest and it’s never been so near eruption. Everything you’ve ever wanted to say, every word you’ve ever wanted his ears to hear, is threatening burst from your mouth like a river finally free of the dam. 

Maybe it’s his closeness. Maybe it’s the way he looks in the wane moonlight. Maybe it’s the barely perceptible tremor in his voice as he spoke the word “friends”. But you’ve never been so close to bursting.

“I don’t want to be your friend,” it slips out before you can stop it, and you bite your tongue so hard it bleeds. 

“What?” He stiffens against you.

Your tongue tears itself away from your teeth. Everything is bubbling up so fast, your will to keep your heart in darkness is fracturing and you scramble to patch up the leaks. 

“I don’t-I mean- I,” you babble, pushing yourself away from him. It’s the wrong move- the look of confused hurt painted across his face crushes everything to dust and the spring finally bursts forth.

“I don’t want to be your friend, I want to be more!” you cry out, the weight of what you are doing hitting you square in the chest. “I want more and I can’t have it and it hurts, it hurts so bad but it would hurt worse to give you up. That’s what I was thinking earlier, thoughts not worth even a penny because they are stupid, useless, hopeless. Tonight has been one of the worst nights of my life, being so close to you but feeling like you are a million miles away.”

You’re sitting up beside him now, the space between you feeling like a vast ocean. His mouth hangs open slightly, violet eyes wide with shock as you continue your rant. 

“I know these feelings are inappropriate. I shouldn’t be thinking of my Captain this way. But I can’t help it. I wasn’t even thinking about love and then you-the real you, this you-stepped in front of me and just...just....just reached out and took it. You took my heart for your own and you didn’t even know it. I....I’m in love with you and it’s tearing me apart that you don’t feel the same!”

You finish, chest heaving, breath puffing like you have just run a race. You can’t even bear to look at him. Those soft violet eyes, the idea that they may be filled with pity and reproach at your words makes you sick to your stomach. You sit with your head hung, waiting for him to break your heart even further.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Stay tuned for Part 2!

#william vangeance x reader #william vangeance imagine #william vageance #black clover #black clover x reader #black clover imagine #black clover fic #wiliam vangeance fic #anime #anime fic #anime imagines #william black clover #reader insert #black clover anime #william vangeance x you #black clover x you #william x reader #william x you #my writing

[maybedefinitely404]

Day 9: Intruloceit (Pt 1)

@tsshipmonth2020

Day 9: When you write something on your own skin, it appears on your soulmate’s skin as well.

Content warnings: implied abuse (nothing graphic), self deprecation, some internalized homophobia concerning polyamory, angst. 

(Happy ending in next part)

Word count: 1.7k

Janus didn’t sleep the night before his eighteenth birthday. Instead, he sat curled up on his bed, wrapped in his blanket, watching the minutes pass in the dim light of his alarm clock. His heart pounded as it drew closer to midnight, feeling like the numbers on the display were a countdown to his death.

He didn’t have friends, and that wasn’t a topic he would ever admit to being sensitive about. Most people would spend the eve of their eighteenth birthday surrounded by their loved ones, count down the seconds until they reached the strike of midnight, and then huddle around the birthday person as they wrote a message to their soulmate for the first time. A little greeting, an introduction, something to begin the process of meeting the love of their life. In a decent amount of cases, probably half, Janus would speculate, they wouldn’t get a response until their soulmate also turned eighteen, but the first note was still a special moment; something to celebrate. He’d never been a popular person though, by any standards.  Even back in elementary school, his general dark demeanor and habitual lying kept people away from him. Sure, it would be more fun to play at recess with the other kids instead of laying in the sun and watching the clouds float by, but his defense mechanisms were not something he was going to let go of any time soon.

When his bedside display finally read 12:00, he expected to feel something. A shiver up his spine, a tingling under his skin, anything. But nothing happened, and he couldn’t tell if he was more grateful or upset. He stared down at his skin, pen held in his shaking hands, debating if he should do it. The minutes ticked by, suddenly a lot slower than when he’d been fighting for breath in anticipation and fear, and the pen continued to shake.

Downstairs, the front door slammed shut, causing Janus to flinch so hard the pen clattered to the floor. His dad wasn’t supposed to be home for a couple more days, and he could hear his mom voicing similar confusion as she made her way downstairs to greet him.

“Darrel? Did the trip end early?” He could hear the hesitation and uncertainty in her voice even from behind his closed door. His father had left with the excuse of a work trip. They both knew that wasn’t true, and both had an unspoken agreement to not say a word about it.

“What are you doing awake?” The man’s voice was gruff, sleep starved, annoyed. He clearly hadn’t intended to run into his wife, the soulmate he had stopped loving years ago.

“The headlights shone through the window, they woke me up.”

“Well, go back to bed. I don’t want to be grilled by you right now.”

“Do you want some dinner? I think there’s some leftovers in the fridge-”

“I said, go back to bed!”

“Darrel, please! You’re going to wake Janus!”

Janus shut his eyes and ears as the yelling started, abandoning the pen and what little excitement he’d had previously. Like every night, his sleep was as restless and chaotic as the day time, haunted with flashbacks and nightmares that he had no way to escape. Words hit with as much impact as fists, reminding him of how he was meant to be alone. A soulmate could never love a royal fuck up like him. His dad’s words echoed and distorted as the blows landed, shouts of unlovable and worthless setting in his mind as tombstones. Images of his parent’s failed bond rifled through his mind’s eye at record pace. Whether they were a one in a million flaw or just a cruel reminder that soulmates are never as perfect as displayed, he’d never know. All he knew is that he’d rather be alone for the rest of his life than be submitted to the fate that had befallen them, abuse and hatred but unable to leave, not with the expectations and stereotypes they lived under. ‘Soulmates were perfect, never failing, an unshatterable bond.’ Bullshit. He knew he was also subjecting his soulmate to a life alone, but his fear easily outweighed his desire to be loved, or his sense of compassion. 

He woke up the next morning with a new heaviness in his heart, glancing at the time habitually. It was ten minutes before his alarm, but the thought of going back to sleep was too daunting a quest, so he rolled off his bed and padded to the bathroom to get ready for school. It was his senior year, and no matter how much he would rather stay at home and mope in his room, zoning out as he tended to do, he needed his grades to stay decent. It was the only way he was getting out of here. Half asleep, he threw on his yellow comfort hoodie, a stark contrast to his mood. It had been a present from his mom a few years ago, given with the uncomfortable smile between two people who lived together but rarely spoke. 

He clambered down the stairs two at a time, freezing on the last step as his eye locked on the person in the kitchen. His mom sat at the table, nursing a cup of coffee silently, barely acknowledging he had entered the room. Without so much as a word, he scooted by her, eyeing the bruise forming on her left cheek and slunk out the door. They didn’t talk much anymore, why would today being his birthday change that?

The day was nothing out of the ordinary, and Janus didn’t know why that made a certain hole open up in his chest. Boring classes followed by lonely breaks, a quiet lunch hour in an abandoned classroom and an uneventful walk to the park after school. He preferred doing his homework anywhere that wasn’t home, especially now that his dad was back in town. He needed to get these done, and who knew what would pull him away from his work there. Besides, the grass was soft and the sun wasn’t too overbearingly hot, and he desperately needed a tan. The darker his skin, the more unnoticeable was the huge birthmark that covered the left side of his face, a little something that just made him that much more avoided by his peers.

His pen had barely scratched the paper when a tickle over his right arm made him gasp, like a feather ghosting over the skin. It didn’t take a genius to figure out what it was, and after a moment of adrenaline and panic, it occurred to him that no amount of putting it off would prevent the inevitable. He’d have to acknowledge his soulmate’s existence eventually. With a deep breath, he tugged the sleeve of his hoodie up, eyebrows knitting together in confusion.

From wrist to elbow on his forearm, a deep blue ink had scribbled down bullet points that he must have not noticed throughout the entire day, since there were too many for them to have happened in the last few minutes. He started at the top, eyes drifting hungrily over the writing until he reached the last note, still being finished.

Chemistry test next Friday, study cephalopods

English paper on William Shakespeare, ask Roman for advice

Talk to Patton about moving movie night to next weekend

What far away is Andromeda from earth?

Fix V’s pin 

Yell at V to stop breaking their pins

Get dad to sign detention slip

Extra credit for calculus due tomorrow

Do you want to get coffee?

Janus froze. That last one… what the hell? Sure, his brain was decently sleep deprived, but he was almost certain he hadn’t written to his soulmate last night. Except, damn, that question certainly didn’t seem to fit in with the rest of his notes; it seemed aimed at someone. Nevermind how they knew he was there, knew he had turned eighteen, they were trying to contact him, and that was more important. He picked up his discarded pen off the grass, twirling it in his fingers. What should he say? Should he even say anything? His original plan to ignore his soulmate was suddenly significantly more difficult, now that they were making the first move. They were a real person, not just a stranger, no longer a figment of his imagination twisted into something evil. 

But before he could touch the tip to his arm to respond, to maybe introduce himself or ask where they were in the world (why were they offering coffee if they’d never even established where they lived, he wondered distantly), a barrage of green script exploded under his poised pen.

YES PLEASE! I was awake all night. I just saw your notes, you want help with the cephalopods? I can quiz you, I know everything about them. And I guarantee I know just as much about ya boi Billy Shakes as Roman, and I know the FUN stuff too! Not the prissy romancey stuff. Did V tell you their pin broke because they tried to stab me with it and hit my pocket knife? Because they did. What did you get detention for this time?

Even with the small writing, Janus had to rotate his arm to follow the messy scratching as the… new person continued to rant about their day. He sat in shock, not able to process what was happening. This had to be a mistake, right? It was astronomically rare to have more than one soulmate, and there was no way he was one of those people. He had never been special before in his life, in either a good way or a bad, so he in no way was deserving of… this. Maybe this was a mistake after all, just like his parents. Another cosmic fuck up, where he’d have to live out the rest of his life, watching the two people fall more and more in love while he looked on like a creep. Isn’t that what he deserved, though? The two other people obviously knew each other; two soulmates who must have turned eighteen before him and met a while ago, if their casual interaction was anything to go by. And… he couldn’t intrude on that. Even if he did, if he popped up out of nowhere like a bad cold, they wouldn’t want him to join their pre-established relationship already. They probably weren’t even polyamorous, and the whole idea would just make them uncomfortable. 

His mind was too far gone for homework. So with a lump in his throat the size of a meteor and tears stinging the corner of his eyes, he capped the pen, rolled down his sleeve resolutely, and packed up his supplies. Anything his dad would do to him would surely hurt less than this. 

#lywrites #tsshipmonth2020 #sanders sides #intruloceit #janus sanders #remus sanders #logan sanders #sanders sides fanfiction #ts soulmate au #soulmate september #soulmateseptember

[depressedacadamia]

How do you passive aggresively say fuck you in flower? Part II

Summary: It seems that Nico and Will just cant stop running into each other

A/N: FIRST WEEK OF EXAMS OVER, ONLY ONE WEEK TO GO!! Unfortunately, I am not able to write a lot due to tedious revision but I wrote this part 2 a while ago and thought that today would be the perfect time to release it! Anyway, I hope you guys enjoy and comment! <3 from me!

Read on AO3           Read Part I on tumblr

They were not expecting to see each other the next day at Uni. In fact, Will was so shocked, he had to pause and squint at the raven haired boy to check that he was the same as the customer 2 days ago. What was this dude doing here? This was the medical college!

Oh shit, what if he’s a new med student or a transfer student?

However, while it seemed that Will had noticed Nico, it seemed that Nico had not noticed Will; he couldn’t have been more appalled as he was ignored and he simply watched in despair as the italian jogged past him without a moment's pause. Not even a Hey, you’re the guy I made out with yesterday, right?

Will was used to having all his past hookups follow him like a sheep and sure, he hadn’t really hooked up with Nico but he was for some reason expecting some sort of reaction from him. Was he that forgettable?

He felt someone dig their elbow into his ribs and was about to shout What the fuck before he realised that Calypso was elbowing him.

“Calypso what!” He winced as he rubbed at his side, still in pain from Calypso’s pointy elbows.

“Do you think I should invite Leo to the dorm party?”

Will’s head perked up. “ Leo? Leo valdez?”

“Yes Leo Valdez, who else?” Calypso sighed.

“I thought you saw him making out with some guy at another party and then proceeded to pretend you never liked him in the first place-”

“- Which is true! I never liked Leo in the first place, he was just a friend!” Calypso desperately defended.

“Everytime someone says they’re just a friend and not they’re just my friend, you know that they’ve crushed on them.”

“Shut up.” Calypso whacked her bag over Will’s head, ignoring his shouts of protests.

Will’s hands instinctively went over his head, tucking his chin in to prevent himself from gaining any brain damage from Calypso. “ Hey, Hey! I work for you, little shit!”

“Exactly, I can fire you any second I want to!” Calypso boasted before remembering something. “ Wasn’t there a request that came in on Saturday? Something like fuck you?”

Will could feel the blood rushing to his cheeks. “ Uh, yeah, maybe. I don’t really remember.”

Calypso recognised that tone. That tone was the same tone used during the walk of shame, that tone meant things that she did not want in her shop. Turning her head only halfway, she gave Will a grimace, praying that it hadn’t happened again.

“William Andrew Solace, Please please tell me that you didn’t have sex with another client in my shop!”

“For once,” Will smirked. “ For once, I can actually say that I didn’t.”

Calypso sighed in relief, all the tension in her body simply oozing out all at once. Her shoulders dropped and the tense expression on her face was replaced by her regular small smile that she constantly wore, causing her to seem quite shy, which technically she was.

“You know, you seriously have some nerve Callie, hitting your employees like that. That could be harassment. What happened to the shy girl who could tell me the latin name for any plant out there?”

“Just because I don’t hook up with every good looking breathing thing, does not mean I’m shy.” She put her hands on her hips and took several confident steps while swaying her hips before hitting a hard chest with a thud and feeling the hard floor on her butt. Frustrated, she huffed and without even looking at the perpetrator, began to shout,

“Are you blind or stupid? Look where you’re going for fuck sake.” She ignored the offered hand and got up herself, brushing her scraped hands on her pants.

It was only when Will nudged her, not very discreetly may I add, that she noticed that it was Leo Valdez who was offering the outstretched hand and another very scary looking dude standing by Leo. However, something about him seemed familiar- from the shape of his body to his hair and in particular his jawline. She remembered seeing it somewhere.

Fuck, that was the guy Leo was making out with at that party. She realised.

Simultaneously, Will was thinking- Fuck, that was Nico di Angelo.

“Sorry Leo, Calypso,” Will turned to her, completely avoiding Nico. “ Do you have anything you’d like to say to Leo?”

Claypso gave a bitter look to Will before remebering that Leo fucking Valdez was standing infront of her and she had essentialy told him to fuck off. She had to fight the blush rising to the tip of her ears and could only manage to muster a small pipsqueak of ‘sorry’ while looking down at the floor and having her face curtained by her chestnut hair.

Unexpectedly, she felt a hand move the hair out of her face and slip and finger underneath her chin and tilt it up slightly.

“The least you could do while apologising is look at him,” Nico snarled, standing off to the side, watching as Leo brushed her hair out of the way. Leo turned his head to raise an eyebrow that meant Not cool dude before looking back at Calypso, his eyes warm and his smile generous.

“Sorry about him, he’s running low on social interaction juice. Are you okay there?”

Calypso thought she could feel herself gaping- the worst part was that her little shit of a friend Will pointed it out.

“Close your mouth Callie, you’ll get flies. It’s impolite to stare as well,” Will drawled, his eyes still glued away from Nico. Leo glanced at Calypso’s injured hands, the small scrapes and the little cuts across her palms. His frown was cute, with his eyebrows scrunching up and his eyes pooled with concern as he took her hands in his.

“Oh, Dios mio. I’m so sorry- will you forgive me if I clean these up for you?” Leo held her hands gently, as to not hurt her.

Will butted in before Calypso could respond. “Uh, no, that’s not necessary. I can help her from here!”

Nico snorted. “ Yeah, the med- student definitely knows how to clean up his cuts.”

Will growled in response, unappreciative of Nico’s sarcasm. Leo’s frown in concern only grew, the small displays of guilt visible across his face. “ Are you sure? It’s the least I could do after causing you to fall.”

“No it's fine-”

“-Will, calm down. Yes, I’ll go, but you also owe me,” Calypso confirmed. You know your worth, you know your worth, She chanted in her head.

“Well well, a person who knows what they want, of course, I am in your debt. After you.” Leo pointed to the pavement ahead as he left Will and Nico alone. Nico looked Will up and down before letting out a little snort and walking off, not before giving him a little shove with his shoulder as he walked past.

Will was officially outraged. Who the fuck did this guy think he was? First of all, he was barging into the medical college when he didn’t even attend it, then he was barging him to the floor without even apologising and then laughing about it!

Will turned around while still on the floor and yelled. “Who the fuck do you think you’re pushing dipshit?”

Will really thought he had the upper hand. He was taller, felt he was relatively stronger and his reflexes were okay. But when he saw Percy Jackson, Jason Grace, Piper Mclean, Hazel Levesque, Frank Zhang and Annabeth Chase all crowd round Nico, he felt he was the most screwed person in the world. Luckily for him, no one except a girl with brown skin and confused expression turned around.

Will recognised her as Piper Mclean- she had been voted most beautiful girl in the entire Uni. It was rumoured for a while that she and Jason were dating but ever since Will spotted Piper blushing near a new girl, he highly doubted it. Piper raised an eyebrow and Will gave a sheepish smile as he tried to get up.

Piper scurried over, giving her friends a quick wave before running over to help Will. He accepted her hand, mainly because he was terrified that she may kill him if he didn’t.

“Did Nico knock you down here?” Piper asked as Will heaved himself up. Her voice was sweet, soft and had some element that convinced Will that he could trust her; however, at the same time, he didn’t want to snitch on Nico. He gave a blatant shrug and hoped for the best.

“Don’t worry, Nico always teases people he likes. Little idiot isn’t good at showing any emotion other than being horny or being an arsehole.”

“Are you sure those are emotions?”

“I take psychology so I sure as hell hope they are,” Piper confessed, laughing a bit. Will finally realised why everybody considered Piper so beautiful- she wasn’t just a pretty person, she was a nice person. She went out of her way to help others.

“I take medicine so I’m going to hope for the best that Nico doesn’t kill me. He avoids like I’m the plague then acts like he’s planning on murdering me in my sleep.”

“Wait.” Piper paused before turning to Will with a manic grin on her face. “Are you the guy from the flower shop who made the fuck you bouquet and slept with Nico?”

“We didn’t sleep together!”

But Piper wasn’t listening, she was calling Hazel over. Will watched as a girl with gorgeous dark skin that glowed in the sunlight and a tattoo over her left hand turned her head ever so slightly. Will realised why they called her Death’s sister.

She was undoubtedly beautiful but her silent aura was terrifying, like it was driving you to death itself. Large brown eyes that invited you into the darkness and hands that looked sculpted for leading one to their doom.

“Hey Hazelnut! This is the guy who stole Nico from Leo! And he made the Fuck you bouquet that Annabeth gave Percy!”

Will could feel his heart pounding as Hazel left the group and walked slowly to Piper and Will, her expression never changing. Suddenly, when she was close enough to throw a punch, she broke out into a childish grin and started squealing.

“So you’re the one who made Percy that bouquet!” Hazel grabbed Will’s hands and started shaking them excitedly. She giggled before giving them back to him.

“What does making Percy this bouquet have to do with any of this? I only knew Nico because we made out like once and then the fucker blanked me.”

“That’s my little brother you're talking about,” Hazel warned. Will instantly felt his eyes widened in horror before apologizing profusely; he remembered what Nico had told him about his sister and how the two of them had grown up. Hazel laughed before telling him that she was only joking and that he should let loose a bit.

“Was Nico with Leo when he ignored you? Leo Valdez? About yee tall, messy brown hair and ink on his overalls?”

“Yes…” Will nodded.

“Ahhh, that explains it. Those two have a complicated history. He was probably ignoring you because he and Leo might have gotten back together. Or maybe he just didn’t want Leo to know that he made out with you. Or…” Piper let out a grin that Will had no desire to learn the true meaning of.

“Maybe he was just using Leo to make you jealous,” Piper explained, very much used to the drama herself between Nico and Leo. If it wasn’t Percy and Annabeth, Nico and Leo were almost always in an argument.

“So…” Will was deadly silent for a second while his rage began to simmer. “ Are you telling me he cheated on that Leo kid with me?”

“ I really hope not,” Hazel grimaced, looking back at her brother.

“The little fucker,” Will muttered under his breath as he pushed past the two ladies and made his way towards the remaining group. He didn’t care that he was going to run into Percy Jackson, whom he’d had an underlying grudge with for as long as he’d been going to school, he was furious.

How dare he cheat with him. What was Will, some slut who ruined relationships? Hell no. Sure, he slept around but he didn’t go around getting into relationships and creating drama. One night stands were his protocol.

“You!” Will pointed at Nico viciously, his finger almost touching Nico’s nose. The rest of the group simply watched with amusement as Piper held back Jason, whispering who exactly Will was.

“You little cheating seething whore! What the fuck dude! You just make out with whoever you buy shit from?”

“I don't remember you having much of a problem with it.” Nico shrugged, only infuriating Will that much more. He was so tempted to just punch him then and there, in front of everybody including 6 of the most intimidating people he’d ever seen.

“I don't remember you mentioning you had a boyfriend before you jumped me,” Will spat. Nico seemed a little shocked at that comment, his lips shaping into a small ‘o’ before he let a sultry smirk spread across his face in a manner that showed he was relatively proud of himself, only pissing Will off so much more.

Why was the damned bastard smirking?

“Huh, what boyfriend?” Nico turned to Annabeth. “ Hey, Annie, do I have a boyfriend?”

Annabeth looked down at her watch for dramatic effect. “As of 4 months, you have been boyfriend free,” She started and only continued when she saw the smug look on Nico’s face. “That said, that does not mean you have been booty call free for said months.”

“What do you mean!” Nico cried.

“Oh shut it Nico, everyone knows that you and Leo have been playing each other’s booty call for ages now. Just end it and go out with the florist dude,” Frank scoffed.

“Or don’t! The florist dude sounds like a real ass!” Percy cut in, desperate to not let Nico go out with his lifelong nemesis, William Andrew Solace.

“Oh look, it’s Perseus,” Will taunted. Percy felt himself going red and the entire group went quiet. Will looked around, wondering why everyone was silent.

“Oh, you guys don’t know?” Will smirked, looking directly at Percy, the knowledge on the tip of his tongue. “ That’s what everybody called Percy in middle school, after we learnt the myth of P-”

The rest of the sentence was muffled as Will felt a hand wrap itself around his mouth. He looked up and saw the sea green eyes that read Shut the fuck up . Will, feeling nostalgia from this certain situation, smirked and stuck his tongue out, licking Percy’s hands, eliciting a yelp of disgust from Percy.

“Dude! Why do you always do that! Every fucking time I’m trying to shut you up, you pull shit like this!”

“You’re telling me that wasn’t the first time you tried to ‘shut him up’?” Nico and Annabeth both asked, hostility floating in their voices. Will gave a jolly smile at Percy who groaned and wiped his hands on Will’s shirt, muttering ‘gross’ under his breath. Will shoved Percy who proceeded to make a face back.

“How do you two know each other?” Frank asked, completely confused before Hazel went up on her tiptoes and began whispering in Frank's ear while he nodded along.

Nico, sick of Will’s attention not being focused on him butted in. “ Did you come all this way to flirt with Percy or what?”

Percy and Will both gagged and shivered, the idea of liking each other being just gross.

“I’m here because you son of a bitch, used me!” Will cried, flinging his arms out.

Nico raised an eyebrow. “I did?”

“Your boyfriend, booty call, whatever you wanna call them- was right there and I was just some pawn for you-”

“-If I wasn’t talking or paying any attention to you whatsoever, how on earth would I make them jealous?”

Will didn’t respond, his mind racking for answers, excuses, insults he could fling at the raven haired boy. He noticed he wasn’t wearing his lip ring that day.

“I think you should focus on the fact that Leo and I just so happened to be at the Medical College despite our majors being nothing related and we just so, by chance, crashed into you and your friend,” Nico hinted. He was a bit tired from how oblivious this blond guy was- hadn’t he made it obvious?

Will took a while to connect a few dots, but the problem was that he only connected the exact dots that Nico did not want him to connect.

“Wait, so Leo does like Callie? Is that why you guys are here?”

Nico wanted to fucking facepalm.

Saturday

The shop bell rang. Calypso was sitting at the counter with her apprentice, Meg. They were both chatting, something to do with the variation of a certain dandelion- Will wasn’t very sure.

He was sporting a daisy chain around his wrist that Meg had forced him to wear and a pink rose had been braided into his hair after much argument with Calypso that the thorns would hurt, in which she retorted that she’d obviously clip the bloody thorns.

When the bell rang, none of the three workers really snapped their heads up. But when the bell rang, and then rang and then rang again, they slowly lifted their heads from their conversation. Will, who had been leaning his elbows on the counter to talk to the two ladies, turned his head to see 8, very unwelcome people, walk into his shop.

Nico was standing there with all 7 of hids friends- Percy, Annabeth, Frank, Hazel, Piper, Jason and Leo. All of whom were very much not welcome in any way whatsoever in this shop.

“What are you doing here?”

The friends all glanced at one another before a few sputters of laughter were spread out. Nico, who was wearing his lip ring again, walked forward and picked up a red rose, twirling the thorny flower in his two fingers, ignoring the small prick it made.

He noticed the blood trickling down his thumb and lifted the injury to his lips.

“Didn’t I tell you last time...” Nico asked, his voice teasing but also malicious, a small corner of his lips stained red. “That you’ll be seeing a lot more of us?”

#Nico di angelo #Will solace #solangelo #solangelo fanfic #will solace fanfic #nico di angelo fanfic #nico x will #nico x will fanfic #percy jackson #pjo #percy jackson fanfic #pjo fanfic #annabeth chase #jasion grace #piper McLean fanfic #frank zhang #Hazel levesque #hoo fanfic #leo valdez #calypso #meg mcaffery #solangelo drama #solangelo angst #eventual fluff

[adhd-disaster-willie]

Seventeen and strung out on confusion; chapter 1/4

Summary: Just some snippets of backstory for the one and only Alex Mercer; aka my comfort character. Each moment will have a date attached so you can understand the timeline. Angst with fluffy found family moments :)

Warnings: Homophobia, swearing

---

As I’m sure you could guess, there are numerous problems that come with being the only out gay kid at your school in 1994. It’s not so bad if you keep your head down and persuade your friends not to get into a fight with everyone who throws a slur your way, but regardless. That pink hoodie that you’ve been wearing since you were 14 and is honestly too small at this point but your parents refuse to buy you another one? Well it’s a target on your back and apparently everyone at the school is now a professional archer. Or at least, they’re all very proficient in the art of unoriginal insults that cut deeper than they should. All of this is to say, don’t come out to your religious parents in 1994. Ever.

---

Alex Mercer was born into a perfect nuclear family, in a two story house with a white picket fence, brick columns, and a clean cut yard that was unsettlingly green. His parents were as religious as anyone could get; straight-laced, good Catholic parents who kept their hands tight around Alex’s shoulders. He went to church every Sunday and tried to ignore the way his neck itched from the too-tight collar and his mother swatting at his hands until he had to sit on them to refrain from drumming on the nearest surface. He was good at hiding the way he payed undivided attention to his little sister’s ballet classes, good at pretending to stare at the girls in the hallways that all his friends drooled after, and especially good at convincing everyone that he drummed and sang to… impress said girls. Right. But unfortunately, Alex was even better at accidentally outing himself a day into the New Year, consequentially losing all of his parents’ affection.

He didn’t even exist to them anymore. Maybe it would’ve been better if they’d given him a million restrictions and curfews and basically chained his hands together, because this was unsettling. And lonely. Family dinners were a thing of the past, and he’d really begun to sympathize with Reggie and his microwaved, half-cold meals every morning and night. But it could always be worse. They hadn’t kicked him out… yet.

---

January 25, 1994

“Alex, dude!”

Alex flinched upon realizing Reggie’s hand waving in front of his face. He looked up and smiled guiltily, realizing the way he’d frozen, spaced out staring at the wall and absentmindedly hitting his sticks against his legs with a beat that didn’t at all match the song they were supposed to be rehearsing.

Luke sighed, wiping the pout off his face. “Alex, come on man! We aren’t gonna get any gigs if you keep…” He waved his hands vaguely and slapped Alex’s shoulder. “Just, pay attention dude.”

“Right,” Alex replied, his voice strained. He was staring down at his shoes and he could feel his bandmates having a silent conversation above his head which he could only deduce Luke was not happy with, probably meaning they were stopping rehearsal. He didn’t want them to stop for him; it made him feel like a burden, and Luke was right, if they were gonna make it anywhere, they had to be all in.

“Alex, you okay?” Reggie asked, his eyebrows knit together in concern.

Alex nodded briefly and kept his gaze trained on his feet. His sneakers were too small and he had to curl his toes in for them to fit but he was afraid of the reaction he’d get from telling his parents he needed something.

“It’s not one of those homophobic jackasses again, right?” Bobby asked, moving closer, his eyes narrowing. “I swear, this time I will cave Josh’s fucking face in-”

“It’s not!” Alex clarified, finally lifting his head. “It isn’t…” he sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. “Look it’s just my parents alright? They…”

Reggie’s eyes widened and he began fiddling with his flannel sleeves. “They didn’t… they didn’t hurt you did they?” He asked, his voice small.

“No, no they didn’t hurt me… not physically at least.” He laughed ruefully. “They’re just being stupid, alright? Ignoring me like they have for the past 3 weeks.” Alex stood up, well aware that at this point band practice was a thing of the past. He walked to the couch, the other three boys in tow.

“Hey!” Luke elbowed Alex’s side before throwing an arm over his shoulders. “That new Green Day album is coming out in like, a week.” He grinned, eyes lighting up. “I’ve been saving up to buy it, and we can use that new cassette player I got for Christmas to listen to it.”

Alex nodded, smiling softly and letting his head relax on the back of the couch. “Yea that sounds great. Promise you won’t listen to it without us?”

“Of course ‘Lex; we all gotta be there to find which songs we’re gonna cover.”

Reggie wrinkled his nose in confusion. “I thought you said we’d moved past being a cover band?”

“It’s Luke, he’ll make an exception for anything if it involves Green Day,” Bobby chuckled.

Several beats of silence passed in which the sun seemed to get increasingly lower in the sky, before Bobby sighed in resignation. “You’re all staying here tonight, aren’t you?”

Luke beamed, clapping Bobby’s shoulders. “You know us so well.”

“Sleepover!” Reggie laughed, pumping a fist in the air. “Does it count as a sleepover if we all basically live here at this point?”

“Shhh ‘Lex, don’t ruin our fun,” Luke responded.

Alex smiled hesitantly. Yea, he was okay.

---

May, 1994

Michael Williams had dark hair brushing the tips of his shoulders, eyes that were almost golden in certain lights and a smile that gave Alex butterflies. Not to mention he was in theater and had a reputation for flipping off the homophobic jocks that were constantly on Alex’s tail. Not that he did it specifically for Alex, but still. The only problem was that talking to cute boys that he hadn’t known since 3rd grade was far from Alex’s strong point.

“Come on Alex!” Luke groaned, sliding into the last open seat at their lunch table. “Just talk to him before I literally combust.” He punctuated his sentence by waving at Alex with a cold french fry.

Alex grumbled something, his face in his arms in a futile attempt to hide the red dusting his cheeks.

“Hey Luke, if you explode because Alex refuses to talk to his crush, can I have your CD’s?” Reggie quipped, a lopsided grin on his face.

Luke gasped in mock offense. “Reginald-!”

“Still not my name.”

“I will be buried with my music,” Luke said. “Both of my guitars too-”

“Even your amp?” Bobby questioned.

“Yes.”

“Seems like a waste of space. Can you even fit all that in a coffin?”

Luke shrugged. “You guys can figure it out. Don’t betray my dying wish.”

Something that would’ve been silence had Luke ever been taught how to chew like a normal person passed over the table, in which Alex’s attention drifted lazily back to Michael Williams, who was chatting enthusiastically with one of the girls in his theater class. Alex didn’t know her name but they had biology together and she never gave him dirty looks, so he liked her.

“10 bucks if you go talk to him,” Bobby said, nudging Alex and waggling his eyebrows.

“No. No,” Alex said. “Not happening.”

“15.”

“Where is this money coming from?” Alex squeaked, although the prospect of $15 was all too tempting. He could get some decent shoes for that.

“20,” Bobby continued, grinning maniacally.

“Dude!” Luke laughed. “How are your parents gonna like you asking for money to fulfill a bet?”

Bobby slapped a hand over Luke’s mouth.

“I’m gonna regret this,” Alex sighed, already moving to stand up.

Reggie giggled like a child and offered a shit-eating grin to Alex, who promptly flipped him off before heading across the cafeteria.

---

December 17, 1994

Alex was screwed. No. Alex was completely fucked. Alex Mercer was likely seconds away from living in a ditch. Because of course it had to be his sister who caught him making out with a guy after school. And of course she was too young to understand why she couldn’t tell Mom and Dad. Because she would’ve done the same if he’d been kissing a girl because kissing is gross and it’s funny to tell your parents that your big brother was kissing someone.

“Hey Mom, guess what Alex did today?” Angie asked, giggling. She was perched on the counter, licking frosting from her fingers while their mother brushed cookie crumbs from her dress. And Alex was frozen at the top of the stairs, crouched down, his heart pounding so loud he was sure it could be heard downstairs. He dug his nails into his palms and prayed that his mother would pretend he didn’t exist when he wanted her to. It was one thing, them knowing. But this? This was something else. Alex’s parents lived on the philosophy that homosexual thoughts got you an eternity in hell, but homosexual actions got you shunned and thrown out. So yea, he was screwed.

“What did Alex do today?” His mother asked, plastering a false smile onto her face, her voice sounding like she was already packing his bags. Alex wanted to get up and run. He wanted to go to his room and jump out the window and fly away. But it was like the sweat on his palms was superglue keeping him stuck to the carpet, and his brain had short-circuited.

Angie laughed again, trying to get it out through her snickering. “Alex was kissing someone today.” She sang, her small feet swinging back and forth, the noise of her heels against the counter like knives in Alex’s ears. “That boy Michael that used to go to our church.” The innocence in her voice made Alex ache.

“Angie.” His mother’s voice was cold now. “Leave please.”

Angie’s brow furrowed in confusion, but she scurried up the stairs anyway, giving Alex a tearful hug on the way because even at ten, she knew that that voice meant trouble. “Sorry ‘Lex. I shouldn’t ‘a told your secret,” She whispered, before sprinting to her room and leaving Alex wondering if he’d get to see her after tonight.

“Alex Mercer, please come downstairs.” Her voice chilled him to the bone, like shards of ice penetrating his skin and seeping into his blood. But he walked down anyway.

Alex tightened the muscles in his hands and feet, willing himself to stay still and planted to the wooden floor, facing his mother head-on, as if the look in her eyes wasn’t terrifying him to the point of tears. But he wouldn’t let her see that she was getting to him, he wouldn’t. So he bit his tongue and counted down from ten inwardly.

“What is this nonsense?” She hissed, reaching out and gripping his forearm, her nails a millimeter away from digging into his skin.

Alex swallowed roughly. “I- I don’t know. Angie’s just… she’s-”

“Don’t lie to me!” His mother snapped. She brought her hand back, curling her fingers in with a look of disgust, as if she’d been touching fire. And then she was speaking again, but Alex couldn’t hear her over the pounding in his ears. He tightened his jaw and shut his eyes momentarily. Don’t cry, don’t cry, don’t cry.

“Get out.”

His eyes snapped open. Alex stood still in front of her, searching her eyes for the slightest bit of remorse. But there was nothing but ice. So he left. He left with tears running down his face and he couldn’t even bring himself to say goodbye to Angie. It wasn’t until he was halfway down the block when he realized that he had nothing but the clothes on his back and a backpack full of everything he could fit, and no where to go. He collapsed on the ground, the cold night air finally hitting him, seeping into his bones. He looked up and wiped his eyes, sniffling. It was odd, the way that the Christmas lights were able to look so beautiful when he felt so broken inside. It felt almost unfair that everything outside of him was moving at a normal pace like nothing had changed. But Alex knew better than that. Everything had changed.

---

These are the people who expressed interest in reading this when I posted about it a few days ago :)

@edgeofgillespie @herequeerandcantdrinkbeer @lookingthroughmirrors

chapter 2

chapter 3

chapter 4

#jatp #julie and the phantoms #can you tell i wasn't born in the 90s lmao #alex mercer #alex mercer jatp #jatp fic #jatp fanfic #reggie peters #luke patterson #bobby wilson #trevor wilson #willow writes

[xmint-conditionx]

☆ flanked ☆ ch1 | knj

(verb) flank - 

guard or strengthen (a military force or position) from the side.

attack down or from the sides, or rake with gunfire from the sides.

☆ pairing: soldier!namjoon x widow!reader; namjoon x fem!reader ☆ word count: 4.7K ☆ summary: you’re a recently widowed military spouse who is stationed at camp walker, south korea. you’re dealing with the tragedy of your husband’s recent death, and in the process, you accidentally meet a k-pop idol you’ve had a crush on for years. who knew you’d both be at the same post while he’s doing his compulsory service? who knew he’d be so damn nice? who knew it would be impossible to get him out of your head? ☆ warnings: angst, mentions of death, grieving, feelings of guilt, brief description of sexual acts. ☆ a/n: hey everyone c: glad to be putting this gem back up into the world. please do let me know if you want to be added to a taglist for this, i’d be happy to oblige! this was one of the first things i’ve written, and so i hadn’t quite found my style yet, but it’s not that bad??? i pretty much have the whole story planned out, but i want to take my time with it. this is my lil baby, and i wanna treat it right uwu this starts off with a lot of angst and tough emotions, but there will be eventual smut!!! huge thank you to my supportive spouse who is in the military and has helped out with some of the realism aspects of this story. hope y’all like it! enjoy!

- minty <3

It’s raining today. Again. The clouds hang low, like a weighted blanket covering your whole world. Aren’t those things supposed to help with anxiety? If only the clouds comforted you, maybe you wouldn’t feel the need to go to… therapy. The word stings in your brain. Another cruel joke of the universe: the un-comforting weighted cloud blanket, and the need for you to go to therapy to ease your pain about a dead therapist. 

The light of the day is beginning to leave as you walk towards the address the man had given you the day before. You really should have been nicer; he really didn’t mean to hurt you. And you really should have asked his name. Mentally kicking yourself, you vow that you’ll do it tonight. After all, this is the only other time you’ve left the house by yourself this week. It was nice to not have the Casualty Assistance Officer breathing down your neck for once. There has to be some good in that. Hell, this little outing might actually be helpful.

The old government building is dull, like both the sky and your feelings. If you died right now and were reincarnated into an object instead of a being, the building in front of you would probably be the best fit. Shades of brown and grey cover tired and worn brick. Government funding has tried its best to keep it presentable but truthfully, it’s barely holding on. It’s definitely seen better days. The more you think about the similarities, the more pathetic you feel, so you push on ahead and push the thoughts out of your mind. The door creaks as you walk in the cold and dark foyer and it all just... makes sense. As empty inside as you are. Jesus, you’ve never been this morbid. There are no lights on other than one at the end of one of the hallways, and you hesitantly step towards it. You don’t like the thought of what that light is going to expose. 

As you reluctantly enter the beam of offensive fluorescent light, someone takes notice of you. Already? They’re walking towards you, hand extended. You’re busy blinking back at the new bright sensation as you reach your hand out to introduce yourself. After blinking back the harsh light, you can see the little folding chairs placed in a circle in the room. Great, you think, just like AA. 

The man before you seems to be in his late 30s, a little on the short side, with a little bit of hair recession. As you finish your short bow to the man, he says in Korean “Yes, someone told us you might be joining us tonight.” as he sends a meaningful look over to one of the chairs in the circle. You follow his gaze to see the man from yesterday grinning up at you, dimples on full display, this time in civilian clothes. After sending you a goofy little wave, he pats the chair next to him and not so smoothly motions for you to sit there. 

“Go ahead,” the older man says, “make yourself comfortable. We’ll be starting in a few minutes.”

You walk toward the empty chair, and take in how truly different he looks in plain clothes. His KATUSA uniform was extremely flattering to his large frame, but this is just downright cruel. The black beanie he’s sporting looks way too good on him. His short sleeved v-neck shirt is a little tight, revealing the finely defined shape of his chest and his arms. He catches your eyes lingering on his body, and you quickly look down as you feel a blush creep up. You tell yourself to just pretend nothing happened, and it’ll all be fine. 

After you sit down, you open your mouth to ask for his name, but he does the same, your voices awkwardly echoing each other. Realizing what happened, your cheeks grow even warmer and you can’t help but turn away as you both share a laugh. You shake it off and give him your name, family first and individual second, attempting to at least make eye contact with him. 

“Nice to officially meet you. I’m Sangbyeong Kim Namjoon, but please don’t feel the need to use titles or honorifics with me. We’re equals here as far as I’m concerned. I’m really glad you decided to come tonight.” 

So, it is him. You can’t even begin to believe it. He looks so different than he did in the tour pictures you saw only a few years ago, but as you look up at him knowing what you know, it all falls into place. Some things for sure didn’t change one bit- his button nose, his deep and smoldering eyes, and the signature dimples really should have given it away. His smile is still just as genuine and reassuring and gleaming and... beautiful?

You immediately squish the thought and offer him back a tight smile. You’re not going to let him know you know who he is. It would probably only make him feel weird and you’ve already been so awful to him. You’re not going to allow yourself to make a big deal about this, and you’re definitely not going to allow yourself to... like him. 

“Look,” you start, “I appreciate your concern. I... I just don’t think something like this will help me. At least not right now.” You sigh, studying your shoes as a distraction. Your hands busy themselves fiddling with your necklace. There’s no way you can be here sitting this close to Namjoon. 

As if he can read your panicked thoughts, Namjoon leans in closer to you, so close you can feel his warm breath on your jaw, and with a hushed and more gravelly voice, he says, “You don’t have to say anything if you don’t want to. Hell, I didn’t say anything for almost a whole month. It just... felt good to listen. You’re not going to be forced into anything. This is going to go at your speed and be what you’re comfortable with. I promise.” With that last sentence, he places his large, warm hand on your knee. 

Shit. You suddenly feel your entire body ignite. What is this? A bolt of lightning rushes up your spine. Your heart starts to pound in your chest. No, this isn’t happening. Your legs begin to tingle. This can’t be happening; this is not allowed. You swallow hard. 

You don’t want to be aroused. You straight up shouldn’t be aroused. This is messed up. Really messed up. You blink some sense back into yourself and cross your legs away from him which thankfully removes the cursed hand.

You’d imagined being touched by this man for a pretty considerable amount of time some years ago; you had filled your head with countless fantasies, knowing they’d never come true. You’d read countless imaginings of his other fans and admirers. This man had fueled so many hidden desires within you. You’d thought of his hands exploring your frame, his strong arms throwing you around, his plush lips leaving marks along your inner thighs...

Thinking of him had been your guilty little pleasure, even something your husband had liked to playfully tease you about. To actually have him here next to you in the flesh, though, was still somehow unfathomable. Why now, you mentally screamed to the god you didn’t believe in. The universe’s cruel jokes just won’t end, will they? What can you possibly even do about this? You can’t sit here and allow your panties to be wet when your husband hasn’t even been buried yet for fucks sake. God, you’re so ashamed. You’re just going to have to keep him at a polite distance. That’s your only option.

You don’t speak through the meeting. But Namjoon was right, it is kind of nice to hear other people’s stories. Even though it’s only been a week since you found out, there’s a lot of feelings and thoughts you can relate to with these people. You’ve found out why Namjoon comes to these meetings every week. That was a question you didn’t want to linger on, much less learn the answer to. You didn’t want to imagine him experiencing a loss like this. Even when you weren’t convinced it was really him, seeing that same pain in another’s eyes only made yours hurt worse. 

One of Namjoon’s fellow soldiers had died in a training accident, and the whole fire team was there doing group therapy. They spent most of their time remembering the funny things he would do to cheer everyone up during their long ruck marches and their annoying and boring bouts of equipment cleaning. Private First Class Derek Williams was the goofball of the group, and he was definitely well loved. Namjoon’s eyes never fully lit up when everyone’s anecdotes hit their punchline.

As the meeting draws to a close and people begin filing out, the group leader comes over to the both of you and asks Namjoon how his thoughts have been over the past week. It’s interesting that the man takes special interest in Namjoon. He nods and just casually replies, “I keep thinking it should have been me instead.”

His relaxed confession is absolutely shocking. Why would he say that? The older man seems to be as surprised as you are.

“Namjoon-ah, please don’t say such things,” the man urges. 

“I know how it sounds, I really do. I’m not going to do anything crazy, and I know it’s a pointless thought,” he shrugs. “It’s just how I’ve been feeling.” 

The older man nods. 

“Go in well-being, Namjoon. Please, call me if you need to.”

You find yourself walking out together. The sky is now fully dark and there’s an added chill in the air, urging you to pull your scarf up a little higher. At least it’s not raining anymore. It’s not usually this cold in Daegu at this time of year; you’re practically begging Spring to come. Although you’re in stride with each other, Namjoon feels like he’s a million miles away.

 “Hey,” you begin, hoping to ease the tension. “I’m sorry about your friend. He sounded like a really nice guy.” 

“Yeah, he was. Thanks. I’m sorry about your husband too. You seem to miss him a lot.” 

“Yeah, I do. Part of me still doesn’t believe he can really be gone. I feel like I’ve been walking around in a daze for the past week. All the paperwork I’ve had to sign. All the logistics. It’s all a little overwhelming so I… just kind of shut down most of the time. Our dog is still looking for him around the house, too, which is probably the worst thing I’ve ever seen in my life.”

“Oh, shit. I couldn’t imagine. I have a dog too and... I don’t want to think about how confused they must be. That’s terrible. I’m so sorry.”

You both stop walking, because you realize you’ve allowed him to walk you all the way to your car. He didn’t even ask.

“Speaking of my son… I... actually need to go walk him. He’s been inside all day and it’s finally stopped raining. Huskies need exercise... So...”

Namjoon lights up a little. “Do you walk him on post?”

“No actually, we go to Duryu Park. He likes the ducks that gather at the pond. Although they probably won’t be doing very much at this time of night.”

“Hey, why don’t we go together?” he asks, “It’s dark out and it’s not a good idea for you to be by yourself.” 

“Excuse me?” you snap. He doesn’t know you’re a brown belt, but he sure is about to.

A flustered Namjoon begins stumbling over his words. “I’m just saying, you’re like really small and someone could easily—“

“Namjoon,” you laugh. “I think I can handle myself.”

“No, uh, what I’m trying to say is that there’s safety in numbers, you know? It would be difficult to fight off bad guys while keeping hold of your dog...” He has a good point. You’ve never walked Draco this late before. You don’t want to admit it, but your recent lesson in mortality has left you a little more than uneasy, especially now that Namjoon has made you think about it.

He continues his word vomit, mistaking your furrowed eyebrows for reluctance instead of consideration. 

“Look, I’m sure you’re very intimidating but—“

Oh my god, you can’t take it anymore. 

“Namjoon!” you exclaim and he finally, finally stops the verbal deluge. “Fine.” 

He seems astonished. “Really?”

“Yeah, meet me by the bridge that leads to the little island in the middle of the pond in like... 30 minutes. We usually do two laps around the water. And...” you pause, “thanks.” You’re a little annoyed at how persistent he can be, but he is really considerate.

His eyes sparkle in the light of the street lamps and you notice his gaze linger on your pursed lips. He does a... weird little hop and finally fully smiles at you. You’ve forgotten how utterly striking his full smile can be. Jesus Christ, how many teeth does this man have? His cheeks have become even more round and his eyes shrink into little half moons. Your stomach does somersaults as you bask in the glow of his happiness. Ugh, not again.

“Okay, I’ll see you soon!” he says, hurrying away. You don’t notice him glance back at you, and that’s probably a good thing.

You get in your car and put your forehead against the steering wheel. Why can’t you just say no to this man?

___________________________

You walk up to the start of the bridge with your pup in tow, who is obviously very pleased to be outside and at his favorite park to boot. The street lamps don’t cover much, but you can just make out a leggy figure standing next to a small white fluff ball. You’d forgotten he said he had a dog too. As you get closer, you see he’s got the leash handle around his wrist, because both his hands are holding two white cups with steam pouring out of the top. 

“What’s this?” you ask, as he extends one of the cups to you. Your dogs are busy sniffing each other, ears back and tails wagging. 

“Hot chocolate! It’s really cold out and I noticed you shivering when we got out of the group therapy building and I was going to get you coffee but I didn’t know what kind you like or how you take it plus it’s late and caffeine might keep you up all night and I didn’t want to—“

“Namjoon,” you cut him off before he explodes. “Thank you.” you reply, taking a sip of the hot drink and relishing in how it warms you up. You look back up at the handsome man, who is beaming down at you, enthralled in your pleased reaction. Warmth is beginning to spread through your body, and as your eye contact with him deepens, you begin to wonder if it’s just the hot chocolate. You can’t help yourself. “You do know that there’s a lot of sugar in hot chocolate though, right?” 

He furrows his eyebrows and panic soon consumes his face.

 “Oh! Right! I’m sorry I—“

“Relax, I’m just teasing you. I’ll be fine, promise. And if I’m not and you end up keeping me up all night, I guess I’ll just have to kick your ass.” you deadpan, which takes more effort than usual because now, you’re picturing him… keeping you up all night.

He starts laughing and you can’t help but to join him. He has a good, hearty laugh, one that makes his entire face light up. It feels really good to be laughing with him. 

“Oh!” he exclaims suddenly, “this is Moni!” gesturing down to the adorable American Eskimo at the end of the pink leash. 

You squat down to formally introduce yourself to Moni. You let him sniff your hand as your dog takes the opportunity to sneak some kisses on your face. 

“Bananas, stop!” you light-heartedly scold, but your pooch doesn’t get the message. He seems encouraged instead, and you are given no mercy by your big fluffy boy. 

Namjoon just laughs at how adorably frustrated you are. After he’s had enough entertainment, he extends a hand and helps you back up. This is the first time you’ve touched skin to skin, and your body is keenly aware of it. His hands are softer than you thought they’d be, and really warm. With how cold it is, you wish you could keep holding onto his strong yet elegant hands. Even after he’s released you, a symphony of tingles play in your legs, betraying you once again.

“Shall we then?” Namjoon asks, tilting his head down slightly so he’s looking at you through his eyelashes. Why does he have to do that? He can’t look at you like that. It’s illegal. Not allowed. He’s torturing you, and surely he has to know that. Or is he oblivious? He’s probably not even trying, because he has no reason to. He doesn’t even need to try. Which is kind of the problem, because you can’t exactly tell him to stop being so damn hot.

You can only answer him by tugging on your leash with a “let’s go!”

Over your walk, you talk about favorite places to eat in town and the different attractions you’ve come to love during your stay here. He talks about one of his best friends who grew up here in Daegu, so he knows all of these nice little spots only a local would typically know. You don’t have to wait for him to say Yoongi’s name before you know who he’s talking about, bringing up a hint of stinging remorse at your secret. He says they’re still in contact as much as they can be, but it tends to be difficult when they were both doing their compulsory service. Yoongi had finished his obligation, and is back in Seoul working on music. For his time, he was stationed right outside of Seoul working with the Korean Military Police, so he never really had to totally put down his work. He talks about Yoongi like they’re brothers, and it’s one of the sweetest things you’ve ever seen. Namjoon doesn’t even try to hide how much he misses his friend.

He asks about where you grew up, and the question is kind of startling. It’s not that you’re not wanting to tell him, but you’re surprised that he wants to know.

“I grew up in Georgia, in the United States. It’s in the Southeastern part of the country.”

“Ah okay, so you grew up close to Atlanta?” he asks, full of curiosity. 

“Kind of! I was about a 4 hour drive from there. I grew up closer to the ocean.” you say, and notice his eyes light up when you mention the sea.

“There’s a guy in my unit,” he begins, “who did his training in Georgia. He said that there isn’t much there other than Atlanta...” he says, quickly noticing your bemused look. He catches himself and finishes, “but in hindsight he was likely biased.”

“He probably trained at Ft. Benning. If that’s the case, I don’t blame him for thinking that at all,” you say, “He’s actually kind of right, if that’s all of Georgia he got to see,” you continue, laughing a little.

“Well, what do you think of Georgia?”

“Hmmmm. I think I wouldn’t have wanted to grow up anywhere else. The area where I grew up was close to the beach, but there was also a lot of agriculture. My grandma even had a peach tree in her backyard. She’d let me go back there and pick a peach and eat it if I had behaved that day. Peaches are my favorite, so it was a pretty good motivator.”

“Georgia is known for their peaches, right?” he asks, but his tone tells you he already knows the answer to that. You had always thought people were exaggerating at how smart he is, but you can’t deny the fact any longer.

“Yeah, we’re even called the peach state. Peaches, pecans, sweet onions and peanuts all grow well there.” you say and he nods with understanding. 

“So what about the town you grew up in?”

“The town was pretty small, my high school maybe had 500 people in it. But the bigger city by us was great. A lot of different types of people. A lot of good food. God, I miss southern food a lot.” you gasp, grabbing his bicep with your free hand, “Namjoon! You haven’t lived until you’ve had good collard greens!” 

“Collard greens? I’ve never heard of that,” he says, scrunching up his eyebrows.

“It’s a side dish we eat down south. It goes with just about everything, but it’s best next to fried chicken and macaroni and cheese.”

“Macaroni and cheese…” he muses, letting the English words roll off his tongue, “I really want to try more American food. I’ve had plenty of hamburgers, but I want to try everything. PFC Williams always let me try his lunch if I asked him. He brought this thing called potato salad one day… that was an interesting experience.”

You sigh, “there’s much more to American food than just hamburgers and potato salad. Too bad there aren’t any real authentic American food restaurants here. Although, there is a Johnny Rockets on the other side of town. Is that where you get your hamburgers?”

“Yeah… it is. Chain restaurants are cheating though, right?”

“Yeah, basically. If you want real American food, you’ve got to get a real American to make it for you. I thought I really liked Korean food until I moved here. Americanized Koean food is not half as good as the real thing,” you assure him.

“I could have told you that,” he teases, giving you a light bump with his shoulder. “Do you have a favorite restaurant in town?”

You discuss the places you have come to love in Daegu, from restaurants to parks to shopping areas to museums. You both realize you enjoy art, although he prefers looking at it while you enjoy making it. The conversation ventures to Pollock and Monet and Van Gogh and you go on about how you just don’t get Picassos. He just lets you just rant about how much you hate his works for probably too long, until you’ve run out of breath and are forced to take a break.

“Wow, that bad huh? What did he ever do to you?” Namjoon chuckles.

“He destroyed my corneas with his kindergarten level bullshit, that’s what.” you snap, which only makes him laugh more.

“So it’s safe to say that you hate Banksy too, then?” 

“No way!” you say, “Banksy is a genius!”

He just continues to chuckle, clearly amused. “I will never understand you, woman.” 

“Are you trying to?” you quip before you can stop yourself, and his laughs die down. Oh, no. That was so direct. Way too direct. He’s got to know you’re into him now; he’d be a moron to not pick up on it. Your stomach is doing somersaults again, but not the good kind this time. You’ve known him for less than two days, so why did you think that was a good thing to say?

You chew your lip, worried of what he might be thinking. Or worse, what he might actually say. After an excruciatingly long silence, finally, it happens.

“Yes. I am.” 

What does that even mean?! Your thoughts are beginning to spiral again, and thankfully, he continues, albeit way too nonchalantly. 

“And honestly, it’s been really enjoyable to do.”

It’s been... enjoyable? Has he already forgotten how you met? This man must have a death wish if getting verbally murked by a strange woman in public was something he considered to be ‘enjoyable.’ You’re immeasurably grateful he isn't looking at you right now, because it’s nearly impossible to hide your astonishment. 

“So…” he begins slowly, “I hope you’ll continue to let me.”

What do you even say to something like that? Namjoon is so much nicer than you ever expected, and that fact is only making things more difficult for you. You’ve had more enjoyment in this one walk than you’ve had this whole week, but there’s about a million different reasons why you should stay away from him. If you only could have met under different circumstances, this might be something you could explore. Honestly, you would still love to explore the possibilities with him, even here and now, but the thoughts of your husband are difficult to push away. 

You recoil at that and curse yourself. 

They shouldn’t be pushed away! It’s not fair to your husband or to his memory. It wouldn’t even be fair to Namjoon! You can barely give yourself a hundred percent right now, much less a new friendship. On top of everything, you’re going to have to go back to the states in less than 6 months, which is an eventuality you’re not looking forward to facing. 

The only sounds now are the soft contact of your shoes against pavement, the tinkling of metal dog tags, and the cold breeze rustling the trees around the four of you. You were correct about there being no ducks out this late, and you find yourself missing their chatter. Anything to distract you from this confrontation would be welcome right now. As the silence grows longer, it becomes more and more difficult for you to respond. You’ve never been great with words, but what do you have to lose besides looking like an idiot? Besides, you’ve already done that. Like, yesterday. You take a deep breath and offer up the most broad explanation.

“Namjoon, I just can’t be a good friend to you right now.”

“That’s not what I’m asking for.” he simply replies, not missing a beat. Why is he being so stubborn? You’re going to have to elaborate. Forget trying to not make a fool out of yourself. He’s a good person, and he deserves your honesty-- at least most of it.

“I can’t be a good friend to you ever. I’m too consumed in my own baggage right now to help you carry yours. Plus, I’ll have to return to the States soon. I just… don’t want to be a burden on you.”

“That’s… not what I’m asking for,” he says again.

Frustration building up causes you to sigh at him. You’re going to need a little help from this infuriating dimpled tree-man, so you make him give it to you.

“What are you asking for, then?” you inquire with a little sting in your tone, leaving him with no room to continue being vague.

“I am asking to continue spending time with you. That’s it. I enjoy your company.” he says. This answer is still unacceptable to you because...

“I literally yelled at you in a parking lot yesterday, Namjoon,” you say.

“Yeah, but that was…” he trails off and scratches his head, “kind of my fault.” 

“You can’t be serious. You… didn’t know.”

“That might be true, but I still hurt you, and I’d like the chance to continue making it up to you. At risk of sounding really cheesy… Part of my job as a KATUSA is to be a symbol of the friendship and mutual support of our two fine countries... To learn from and assist each other... I don’t see why we couldn’t do that too...”

“That… really was cheesy, Namjoon,” you chuckle.

He smiles down at you, and your heart skips around in your chest. When he speaks again, he draws out the first word, clearly in a teasing mood now.

“Okay, but… did it work?” he teases with a sly grin as he side-eyes you.

Part of you wants to tell him no, but he does deserve honesty after all. At least mostly honesty. You want to reveal to him that you know who he is, but you’re unsure of the words to say. He seems eager to stay in your life here, for whatever reason. Compared to what you’ve just been through, nothing can really hurt you again. So what’s the harm, really? It’s not like you have anyone else to spend time with. 

“Yeah,” you confess. “It did.”

“So,” he begins, “does that mean you’ll let me show you the museum you haven’t been to yet? There’s this once piece in there that is spectacular. You have to let me show you.”

After a considerable silence, he looks at you with soft, begging eyes and lets out a soft “Please?”

“Okay, Namjoon. You got it.”

You cannot say no to this man.

“Saturday then? In the morning? We’ll want to beat the crowd, especially if you want to explore the whole thing!”

“That works for me. You know, I’m actually looking forward to you being my personal tour guide.”

“Great! I guess you really must be from Georgia. You’re sweet, just like a peach.”

#bts smut #bts fanfiction #namjoon x reader #namjoon smut #namjoon fanfic #soldier!namjoon #military!au #militaryspouse!reader #milspo!reader #namjoon x you #rm fic #namjoon fic #rm fanfic #rm smut #rm x reader #rm x y/n #rm x you #dom!namjoon #dom!rm #brat!reader #brat!you #fem!reader #widow!reader #xmint-conditionx #flanked

[undertaker1827]

Hey all!! This is a part two of the story I wrote where Grell’s s/o (Ciel’s mother figure) dies, which was requested in the comments of the original fic. If you haven’t read the first one, please do that as this makes no sense by itself. Also, I’ve reverted back to female pronouns for Grell in this one aaand guess which mortician rocks up 😁 Can be seen as Grell x Undertaker (I do like that one myself) but that’s not actually the idea. And finally (I swear I’ll shut up in a minute) the method used to stop a panic attack is a genuine one, it works very well.

❗️Warnings; heavy angst all the way through, death, blood, a panic attack, spoilers for chapters 140, 141 and 149.

Masterlist

-

Grell swallowed hard as she turned away from William, striding out into the corridor as fast as possible. Only a few reapers gave her a second glance, but she didn’t run into anyone she knew personally, so for that she was grateful. She left through reception and made her way back to her apartment, swapping the coat she usually wore for a red trench. It was slightly too big for her, so she wound it around herself like a cocoon, tying the fabric belt in a big loop then leaving once more.

The crimson reaper - ex reaper now? She wasn’t really sure - started walking around London. She had no aim or purpose, just needing to not sit still. Her hands were curled into fists and stuffed deep in the pockets of the coat, breath hanging in pockets in the frigid air behind her, street lamps only doing so much to push back the darkness of fallen night. Grell wasn’t watching where she was going, head low and eyes sore. The tears had stopped, but she knew how little it would take for them to start again, even though she had already cried so much. She felt an awful hollowness, left both by your parting and from the exhaustion that comes from truly crying your heart out.

So lost was she in her thoughts that she walked straight into something - someone - and tripped over a cobblestone. She managed to rip her hands out of her pockets to break her fall about halfway down, only she never met the floor. A pair of strong arms wrapped around her, one around her shoulders and the other at her waist then hauled her upright and into a firm chest. The other person held her still for a moment, as if ensuring she was now steady on her feet, before pulling back a bit to see her face. A bout of maniacal laughter quickly drew her attention once more to be met with silver bangs rather than eyes and a mortician’s black robes.

“Well, if it isn’t the reaper who was playing Madam Red’s butler! We meet again...” He trailed off into a giggle and stepped back, taking in everything Grell’s features and body language were telling him.

“Undertaker..?” She murmured, suddenly at a loss for what to do. She should be utterly repelled by him, right? What he did back on the ship was unforgivable for a reaper, and he certainly was one even if he did quit dispatch. In fact, now she had too, didn’t that make them kind of the same? She didn’t know, too tired to work it out. A nail tapping against her forehead made her blink rapidly and focused her gaze once again on the grey hair.

“You don’t look all that grand now though, do you? What’s happened to you, I wonder..”

Those few words were enough to send Grell’s mind careening back to the warehouse, the To-Die list, your crumpled body and your blood staining the concrete crimson. The blood pounding in her own ears and the sound of that wretched death scythe dragging on the rough floor, the look on William’s face.

You monster. You knew what they meant to me when you gave me that list.

A fresh wave of nausea took over the reaper’s body and she screamed in agony, tears streaming from her eyes and breathing heavy and erratic, yet still she clutched at her chest, unable to breath, unable to think -

The mortician saw the warning signs, thought process calmly identifying panic attack, the supplying him with chamomile, lemon. They had crossed paths right outside the parlour anyway, so by the timeUndertaker had half dragged, half carried the other reaper inside he doubted she even realised they had moved. He snapped her out of it by shoving a lemon in her mouth, engaging the automatic reflex of biting down and the resulting horrible taste preventing her brain from continuing to panic.

“What the hell do you think you’re doing?!” She yelled, launching herself at the older reaper only to stop halfway through. “How did you do that?” Undertaker just grinned and brandished the lemon at her.

“Forces your brain to focus.” Grell gave a non-commital hum but said nothing further, eyes becoming slightly glazed in thought. Undertaker was no fool; he knew what that type of crying meant. She’d lost someone incredibly important to her, which was a feeling he knew only too well. It was fatal for a reaper to involve themselves with humans. Since she was here anyway, the mortician made some chamomile tea and offered her a cup, surprised to find she accepted it. She must have been too exhausted to retaliate.

The pair sat for a while in silence, though Undertaker did eventually ask what Grell was doing in London. He did so idly, as if asking about the weather so as not to pressure her.

“I quit.” That certainly drew the older reaper’s attention, the small movement of his head so sharp that his bangs shifted enough the reveal part of a glowing chartreuse eye. It was enough to set an alarm bell in Grell’s head, something Othello had said about her not being able to win against him one on one.

“Quit what?”

“Dispatch. I deserted, just like you.” She gave a small, humourless scoff. “Suppose I know now how you felt.” The mortician let out a silent breath, his own mind straining and wanting to wander.

“Being seduced by the lives of humans is always a mistake for one of us,” he murmured softly, the feeling of dusky blue hair under his fingertips and a gentle, loving voice in his ear suddenly far too real.

“They-” Grell’s voice caught, “they wanted me to… to reap-” She gave a single, suppressed sob, rubbing the heels of her hands into her eyes and trying to take calming breaths. “I couldn’t do it. Wouldn’t do it. But Will knew. He knew and he did nothing!” She rested her elbows on her knees and dropped her head into her arms, sighing once more. She barely registered the sound of movement as the other reaper sat down next to her on the coffin, though she couldn’t help but tense and turn her head when she felt his arms around her once more.

“I’m not going to hurt you,” he muttered, voice dropping to the softer one she remembered from the Campania. Too tired to care if she was making a mistake or not, Grell allowed herself to be slowly pulled into a tighter hug, wrapping her arms around the mortician in return. Neither spoke for a long while, though she had allowed her eyes to close when she felt his chin come to rest on top of her head. “Was there a reason you came to me?” He asked at last, voice quiet in the predawn stillness.

“It wasn’t intentional,” the other reaper whispered back, “I was just blindly walking. Coincidence, maybe.”

“Maybe,” he hummed back, “though I have a proposition for you. What would you do if I told you there might be a way to bring them back?” Grell moved so quickly Undertaker found even he couldn’t easily follow it. Her head knocked back into his jaw and he huffed in annoyance, though said nothing of it when he saw her face. Pure, unadulterated desperation was ingrained into her every feature, though the look turned gloriously murderous with her next words.

“If you’re lying to me, even in the slightest way-”

“I can swear to you, in full confidence, that I’m not. Look here.” He stood and walked over to another coffin lying horizontally on the floor, gently taking hold of the lid and pulling it back. Grell’s eyes widened at the sight of the boy laying inside, body suspended in fluid and attached to medical equipment far too advanced for the Victorian era of the human world. She met Undertaker’s gaze once more, who was now starting to smirk. “Go get them back.”

#undertaker #grell sutcliff #undertaker x grell #undertaker x reader #grell sutcliff x reader #undertaker black butler #black butler undertaker x reader #black butler grell x reader #black butler grell #black butler undertaker x grell #black butler #kuroshitsuji #adrian crevan #black butler x reader #kuroshitsuji x reader #adrian crevan x reader #black butler reader inserts #black butler reapers

[deansmom]

(ao3) pls accept this very old mcdanno fic I never published, in which there are feelings and a kiss. also, soup snakes.

"So, Steven."

Steve smirks a little bit, leaning back against his desk like the smug asshole he is. This conversation has been a train wreck from the start. 

"As I was saying before I was so rudely interrupted," Danny raises his voice for dramatic effect to accompany the accusing look he's shooting at Steve. "You and me."

"Have you ever considered that maybe I'm interrupting you because you talk in incomplete sentences when you're nervous?"

Danny glares at him and flails his hands around unhelpfully, "See, this! This is what I'm talking about!"

Steve rolls his eyes, "You weren't talking about anything Danny. We were tailing a suspect and you said, out of the blue, 'do you know what a soup snake is' and here we are.”

"This -" Danny shakes his head and runs a hand over his face, "You know, if you ever let me finish a sentence I wouldn't have to bring things up like that."

Steve grins as he watches Danny start ramping up to a full-blown rant-down (the Williams version of a meltdown). He gets up after a moment and sets a hand on the other mans shoulder, his smile a little kinder. "Hey. I'm listening."

Danny looks up at him and deflates. He brings both of his hands up to his face and groans, "Okay. Okay, so..."

He walks a few steps away from Steve and collects himself before saying, "So Gracie is reading this book, right? And it's been so long since she was excited about a book so I said sure, I'll read it with her, cause y'know, that's what you do, you read books you don't care about just to spend time with your daughter before she starts to hate you."

"Danny," Steve sighs and rests against his desk again, "Gracie could never -"

"Shut up," Danny interrupts with a flail. He's yelling with his hands. "Shut up or I'm never gonna get through this okay?"

Steve stays silent as way of answer. 

It takes another few seconds before Danny says, "So this book. Some actress wrote it and she was on that show The Office."

Danny turns to look out at the rest of the squad room and runs a hand through his hair, "She's got this friend and he's - he's her ex. Best friends though, like, the kinda thing you hope for growing up.

"And Mindy - that's the actress - everybody wants to know why they're not together. So she's got this chapter in this book and she says y'know, it's weird, their relationship, but they're soup snakes."

Steve has to bite his tongue. 

"And - Gracie, you know, she turns to me and she says, 'That sounds like you and Uncle Steve, Danno.'"

On instinct, Steve's body tenses up and he's got to remind himself to breathe. 

"So I'm thinking you know, she's just a kid, she doesn't know things. She's smart but she doesn't, you know - she doesn't know this."

Danny lets his head fall forward so it's resting as close to his chest as it can. "Do you know what soup snakes are, Steven?"

He has to take a moment to get his voice to work before he responds, "Uh... No, afraid I don't."

Danny spins around suddenly, and gestures around, "It's from an episode apparently. The main guy, his ex comes to town and he spends the whole episode trying to explain why he doesn't have feelings for her when he clearly does and he doesn’t want to be friends with her and - it's jibberish. Makes a toddler look like a genius."

He takes a few steps closer to Steve, apparently more determined now, "And he makes this list. The number one reason on it is because they're soup snakes."

Danny pulls a piece of paper out of his pocket and pretends his hands aren't shaking. It's harder to pretend his voice isn't shaking though when he starts reading it. 

"I lied to Kevin. Holly and I can never be just friends. I wrote down a list of bullet points why Holly and I should be together, and I'm going to find the perfect moment today and I am going to tell her. Number one: "Holly, you and I are soup snakes." The ... and the reason is... because... in terms of the soup, we like to- that doesn't make any sense. We're soul mates. Holly and I are soul mates."

Steve's heart is pounding in a way that it hasn't since he went through basic training and he's suddenly sweating bullets. "That's, ah..." He licks his lips and tries again, "That's a nice story, Danny."

Danny seems to ignore him, keeping his eyes on the paper, “So, there I am, sitting in my living room with my daughter, my lovely, amazing girlfriend in the kitchen and...” 

He looks up at Steve finally and he looks terrified - like walking into a tunnel terrified.

“And see I’m - I’m having a crisis. Because this?” He gestures in between the two of them, “This wasn’t - it’s not -” 

“Yeah,” Steve croaks out, his voice rough for a number of reasons. 

Danny opens his mouth uselessly, the words on the tip of his tongue and refusing to come out.

Steve takes a step closer, well within his personal space now and swallows nervously, “It doesn’t have to be. I mean, if you...” He lets out a breath, ignoring his stuttering heart, “If you don’t -” 

He’s not an idiot. Despite what Danny likes to think, he’s not a ‘neanderthal.’ He’s got feelings, lots of them, and he knows what they all mean.

He knows that he’s been in love with Danny since the day they met. 

“But it is!” Danny yelps, his hands coming up to rest on the back of his head, “It already is Steven, it doesn’t matter if I -”

Steve sets a hand on his shoulder, effectively shutting him up. It doesn’t matter, not really, because the only thing he can hear is the sound of his heart racing in his ears. 

“Did you break up with her?” He asks, terrified of the answer. 

Danny makes a face that clearly communicates how dumb he thinks Steve is, “What, are you insane? What kind of person do you think I am, huh?? Realize I’m in love with my best friend and keep dating a perfectly nice -”

And, well, that’s enough.

Steve leans down, slamming their lips together in both an effort to shut him the hell up and finally, finally find out what kissing Danny feels like.

Danny groans into it, his hands coming up to fist Steve’s shirt. 

They’ve always been a bit of a disaster together, two halves of different puzzles that shouldn’t fit, but they do, they fit so well, and kissing is no exception.

There’s a literal push and pull and before Steve realizes what’s happening, he gets pushed back into his chair. Danny’s standing there looking absolutely wrecked, the toes of their shoes knocking against each other, and Steve has never seen anything more beautiful.

“You,” Danny huffs, trying to catch his breath, and points at Steve’s chest. “Are an asshole.”

Steve squawks, his hands coming up to grab Danny’s thighs, “Me?!”

Danny glares at him, but still moves so that he’s partially on Steve’s lap. 

Something fizzles out in Steve’s brain with all this physical contact and he’s expecting something, something like a kiss or frotting or - something. 

Instead, Danny pinches the sensitive part of his upper arm, hard, and Steve yelps. 

“Do not interrupt me when I’m talking to you,” he hisses. 

“Talking at me is more like it,” Steve mumbles, unable to take his eyes off of Danny. They’re so close, they’re so fucking close, and he’s got years of pent-up frustration and theories he wants to explore. 

There’s a bead of sweat rolling its way down Danny’s throat and Steve just watches it go, wonders how angry Danny would be if he leaned up and licked it right now. Probably really angry, he seems like he’s really pissed, and Steve’s not sure why. 

Then again, he usually isn’t totally sure why Danny’s mad at him. 

Danny’s hand grabs his chin, forcing Steve to look back up at him, “Steven.”

Steve licks his lips, his mouth feeling suddenly very dry, “Yeah?”

“We are at work,” he reminds him, his tone going a little softer. 

He sounds, for lack of a better word, wrecked. He sounds like Steve feels, which is a little raw and a little off balance and - 

Steve groans, his head falling forward and landing on Danny’s clavicle. Stupidly, some part of his lizard brain can only think about how good he smells. 

“Yeah,” he sighs, his eyes closing. “Yeah, okay.” 

Danny presses a kiss to his temple, softer than anything Steve thinks he deserves, and finally pulls away from him. Steve makes a noise of complaint at the loss of contact and it feels like his chest is going to explode with the quiet laugh from Danny it earns him. 

God, he really loves him. 

He watches as Danny fixes his hair, fixes his shirt, tries not to look like his whole world has been rocked in the last ten minutes. 

Steve doesn’t even try to pretend he isn’t doing exactly what he’s doing. 

Danny catches his eye after a moment and grins, walking around to the front of the desk. 

This is the part of Danny that Steve’s always had to experience from the outside looking in, and now, he’s the center of that look and. Wow. 

“Hey Danny,” he hears himself choke out right as Danny’s about to walk out of the office.

Danny turns around, the door half open, and somehow the bastard looks like he always does, like this is all normal. “Yeah?”

It takes his brain a little bit longer than normal to figure out what it was he was going to say, and when it does he wants to laugh.

“I’m gonna need that report before we leave tonight.”

Danny’s face does that thing where it scrunches up like Steve’s being the most unreasonable dictator in the world and he starts yelling (’I don’t yell at you Steven, I explain loudly’).

Because he’s an idiot, and he’s hopelessly in love with his partner, Steve just grins.

Yeah, he thinks to himself. Yeah, this could work. 

#mcdanno #mcdanno fic #mcdanno fanfiction #stevedanny #h50 #mackenzie attempts fics #personal #otp: kinda surf buddies #this is SO OLD however old mindy kaling's first book is that's how old this is #anyways here I finally wrote an ending for it enjoy pls be nice 2 me #theres so much good stevedanno fic I never felt ~adequate~ to throw my hat in the ring lol