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suituuup · 4 years ago

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The Bachelorette

For a fic x art trade with @thehorriblyslowmurderer. Thank you, I hope you like it :D

rated: T

Word count: 2,5k

ao3 link

“Holy shit, it’s freezing!” Beca hisses as she steps out of the car, making a dash in the snow for the front door of the cabin the Bellas will be staying at for the next three nights.

She punches in the code given by the owner via email and pushes the door open just as Chloe makes it to the top of the steps, following her fiancée inside.

“Oh wow,” she breathes, taking in the huge space that’s a perfect mix of authentic and modern, with a jaw-dropping view of the range of mountains in the distance through the large bay window in the living room.

The perks of having a famous girlfriend; they didn’t have to pay for anything, Beca having made a deal with the owners to promote the place on her Instagram while they stayed there for their bachelorette weekend.

A fire is already crackling in the wood-burner and a welcome basket with goodies sits on the kitchen island. Chloe walks over, plucking the note.

“Dear Beca and Chloe. We hope you and your friends have the best time at our cabin,” she reads outloud before taking a look at what’s inside: a couple bottles of wine, cheese, chocolate and fruits. “That’s so sweet of them.”

Beca hums, sliding her arms around Chloe’s waist from behind and hooking her chin over her shoulder. She nips at Chloe’s earlobe. “How much time do you think we have until the others get here?”

“We’re here, pitches!” Amy’s voice interrupts Chloe’s lusty thoughts before she can reply.

She giggles at Beca’s groan, patting her forearm and stepping out of her embrace to greet their friends. Everyone’s been so busy this year, their last reunion dating back to last New Years Eve. “Hey guys!”

“We brought booze!” Stacie exclaims, holding up two bottles of tequila. “I’ve got like, a bunch more in the trunk.”

“Let’s pimp this place up, ladies,” Aubrey instructs, carrying a box containing what looks like rainbow themed-decorations.

“Oh jeez,” Beca mutters as once everyone greeted everyone, the Bellas move about the place to prep dinner and whatever else they have planned for herself and Chloe. “Should we be scared?” She mumbles to her fiancée.

“Trust me, you haven’t seen anything yet,” Stacie says as she walks past them, winking.

Yeah. They should definitely be scared.

The first night turns out to be pretty low key, Jessica, Ashley and Aubrey whipping up an amazing dinner for all of them. They drink wine and play a drunken game of Twister and Cards Against Humanity, turning in rather early as they plan on hitting the slopes the morning after.

“Today was so much fun,” Chloe gushes as she swipes through her photos once they’ve made it back to the cabin after their day spent skiing. “I even caught your fall on film.”

Beca grumbles, trying to get her cold fingers to work down her jacket zipper. “You better not post that on social media, Beale.”

“How’s your ass?” Chloe smirks, locking her phone and tossing it on the bed.

“Bruised.”

“Poor baby,” Chloe sighs, pushing to her feet and sliding up behind Beca. She peppers her jaw with soft kisses and nuzzles her cheek. “Come shower with me?”

Beca seems to fight off a shiver, not one triggered by the cold. “Be there in a sec.”

Walking into their fancy ensuite bathroom, Chloe turns on the spray in the Italian shower and strips the remaining layers on her body before stepping under the hot water. Slender arms loop around her waist less than a minute later, Beca’s warm body pressing against hers.

“You think you can be quiet?” Is murmured against her ear as one of Beca’s hands slides downwards.

Chloe bites back a moan, turning around in Beca’s arms and stepping back until her back hits the stone wall behind her. She watches with darkened eyes as Beca lowers herself to the tile floor and hooks one leg over her shoulder, Chloe’s eyes sliding shut at that first lick.

When they eventually come out of the shower a while later dressed in matching robes, they find Bride-to-be shirts folded on their bed, along with a sticker stuck to one of them.

quit boning and meet us downstairs! the party’s awaitin’

The back of the shirt sports selfie of them that they must have taken from Chloe’s instagram.

“This is so cheesy,” Beca grumbles as she shrugs it on, but Chloe knows she secretly loves it.

“There they are!” Stacie shouts when they make it downstairs fifteen minutes later.

Music is pumping through Beca’s expensive wireless speaker and the coffee table is covered in various liquor bottles, snacks and a handful of pizza boxes.

“Have a seat, ladies,” Amy motions to the two chairs facing the couch with a flourish of her hand, bowing her head.

Chloe and Beca sit down, and Jessica and Ashely set a rainbow tiara on their heads and sling a bride-to-be sash across their chests.

“We had each of you fill out a bachelorette quiz a week ago, and you’ll have to guess the other’s answers. If you get it wrong, you have to take a shot,” Aubrey explains, motioning towards the row of shots set on the coffee table.

“And if we get it right?” Chloe questions, cocking an eyebrow.

She’s gonna crush this game.

“You get to pick a present out of the gift bag.” She nods to the large tote bag sat between their chairs. “Any questions?”

Both shake their heads as Aubrey plops down on the couch between Emily and CR. “Chloe, what is Beca’s favorite feature about you?”

“That’s easy,” Chloe beams, glancing at her fiancée with heart-eyes. “My eyes.”

Beca rolls hers as Chloe leans in to kiss her cheek before reaching into the bag. She wraps her hand around a bottle and pulls it out, reading its label. “Ooooh, coconut massage oil.”

“Boring. Alright, next question,” Stacey says, plucking the sheet from Aubrey’s hands and ignoring Aubrey’s objection. “What could Chloe eat every day?”

Beca smirks, and without a beat of hesitation, replies, “Me.”

Emily flushes hard, Stacie smirks devilishly, while Aubrey makes a face. The rest of the girls hoot and whistle, and the tips of Beca’s ears redden.

“I knew you’d put something dirty on a bachelorette quizz,” Beca murmurs into Chloe’s ear a beat later as she leans across the short distance between them. “Otherwise I would have said pizza.”

Chloe grins, leaning in to peck her lips. “Correct.”

Beca fishes a gift out of the bag and unfolds the clothing item. Her cheeks turn a shade darker. “Wow, that’s… I have no words.”

The pair of hot pink panties read: You may now bang the bride.

“I love them!” Chloe says, snatching them from her fiancée’s hand. “I’ll keep ‘em.”

“Chloe, what was Beca’s first impression of you?”

“She thought that I was crazy,” Chloe replies. She shrugs, smiling sheepishly. “I did break into her shower.”

“The word we were looking for was intense,” Stacie corrects with a tut. “Take a shot.”

“Oh come on, she’s just being polite because I’m her fiancée!” Chloe argues with a laugh.

“Take a shot, ginger!” Amy shouts.

With a grumble, Chloe plucks the shot glass in front of her off the table and knocks it back, grimacing at the burn as it slides down her throat.

Jessica is the one to ask the next question. “Beca, what was Chloe’s first car?”

“Seriously!?” Beca asks. “How am I supposed to know that?”

“You do!” Chloe points out, a shit-eating grin spreading across her features.

“Really?” Beca mumbles and reaches out to take her first shot.

“My old Jeep! We had sex in it,” Chloe blurts out, giggled as Beca chokes a little on the liquid. “And broke the front seat.”

“TMI,” Aubrey winces, her nose scrunching up before she takes a sip from her red solo cup.

“Chloe, what job did Beca want to do as a kid?” Emily asks.

Chloe’s eyes light up. “Oooh, she wanted to be a detective!”

Beca chuckles. “I was obsessed with Scooby-Doo as a kid.”

“Aw, you found your real life Daphne!” Ashley gushes while Beca rolls her eyes.

She bends to pick something from the bag, pulling out a pair of padded handcuffs.

“Oh, nice! Ours isn’t padded,” Chloe comments, as she takes them from her fiancée. She leans in to whisper something into Beca’s ear. “I know you like it when it hurts, but I don’t like seeing you all bruised up.”

“Beca, your submissive is showing,” Stacie states when Beca blushes from Chloe’s comment, plucking the sheet from Emily’s hold.

“Beca, what’s Chloe’s biggest accomplishment?”

“Easy. She has two: winning the Worlds and getting into vet school.”

“Nice, babe,” Chloe praises, holding her hand up for a high-five.

By the time they’re finished with the questions, Chloe is definitely buzzed (she had like three shots out of fifteen questions, which isn’t too bad in her opinion), and they’ve added a few gifts to their pile, a variety of sweet and kinky: matching Mrs and Mrs mugs, a bottle of lube, two sets of gorgeous satin pajamas, a spa treatment for two at Chloe’s favorite establishment in NYC, and a strapless strap-on (the best in the market, according to Stacie).

“Now we believe Beca has something planned for Chloe,” Aubrey says as she stands, taking Beca’s phone from Beca’s hand.

Chloe’s head whips to the left towards Beca, an eyebrow raised in surprise. “You do?”

“Mhm,” Beca hums while four of the girls move the coffee table to make space. She brushes a too short kiss to Chloe’s lips, pulling away before Chloe’s ready to end it, and casts her a wink as she steps backwards. “Go sit in that armchair.”

The opening notes of Beyoncé’s Dance For You drift through the speakers, Chloe’s jaw dropping when she realizes Beca is about to dance for her in front of their friends.

“Oh my gosh,” Chloe breathes out with a laugh, her body temperature cranking up a notch as she gets comfortable.

Beca’s hips start to swivel to the beat of the song, hands leaving her hips to slowly hike up her sides. Her fingers tangle into her brunette hair as she twists to stand sideways and slowly shimmies lower. One hand leaving her hair, Beca traces her bottom lip with her pointer finger and bites down onto the tip before she straightens, arching her back so her ass sticks out as she rises from her crouched position. She adds a hair flip to the mix before slowly strutting towards Chloe, perfectly on cue with the beat, all the while keeping her gaze locked with Chloe’s.

“Work it, girl!” Stacie shouts as Beca stands in front of Chloe, bending down so that they share the same breath.

A chill runs down Chloe’s spine as she resists closing the distance between them, knowing from the wickedness flashing in Beca’s eyes that she’s bound to pull away before their lips can touch.

Beca spins around, her hips matching the chorus as she bends at the knees with her legs spread and grinds it low for a few beats. Her perfect ass brushes against Chloe’s body on her way back up, and it takes everything in Chloe not to grab and squeeze it.

The volume rises around them as the girls cheer and hoot, but Chloe can only focus on Beca and how sexy she is as she turns back to face her, hands running through her own hair then drifting down the curve of her neck, over her breasts and stomach.

“It’s called a lap dance for a reason, shortstack,” Amy calls out as the song flawlessly transitions to Drunk In Love, the perfect arrangement no doubt one of Beca’s works.

Chloe’s mouth dries up as Beca sets both hands on Chloe’s knees and spreads them apart.

“No touching,” Beca husks lowly, nipping at the shell of her ear and eliciting a quiet moan from Chloe. She turns around and her hips start to move in a slow, sensual dance; swerving, popping, grinding and occasionally rubbing against Chloe’s crotch.

Spinning back around, she braces a hand by Chloe’s head and sets her right knee in the space between Chloe’s left thigh and the arm of the chair, rolling her body towards Chloe once. She straddles her lap next, her lips parted to accommodate her heavier breathing as she stares down at Chloe.

Chloe’s fingers dig into the leather of the arm rest to keep her hands from touching Beca as her hips gyrate in lazy circles in her lap. When the song comes to an end, Beca cups her cheek, pulling her into a deep, languid kiss which Chloe eagerly returns, finally giving in to the burning desire and palming her ass, giving both cheeks a firm squeeze.

“Alright, alright! We get the message,” Aubrey’s voice cuts through their lustful lip lock.

“That was so freaking hot,” Chloe breathes across Beca’s lips, nipping at the bottom one before backing away. “I need the rest of that performance later.”

Beca wets her lips, smirking. “Deal.”

Games less centered around the brides-to-be follow as they pass around a joint of weed and eat pizza while sprawled out on the various couches in the living room.

It’s past three am by the time they head upstairs, and Chloe can tell by the expression on Beca’s face that she’s high. Chloe only took one hit and feels fine, if not still a little drunk from the shots she downed at the start of the party.

“You okay?” She asks, catching Beca staring at her with a look as she pulls her sleeping shirt over her head.

Beca nods. “I’m just… we’ll be married in less than a month.” She seems to ponder on her words for a few seconds. “Married. That’s like… big.”

Chloe raises an eyebrow and steps closer, lowering herself on Beca’s lap as she sits at the foot of the bed. “Are you freaking out?”

“Weirdly, no,” Beca replies as her arms loop around Chloe’s waist. “I actually can’t wait. For our wedding, our honeymoon, our kids…”

“Our kids, huh?” Chloe questions in amusement. She twirls a brunette lock around her pointer finger. “How many kids are we talking?”

“Mmm, at least two. I didn’t like being an only child and you loved growing up with siblings so I want that for our children, too.”

Chloe’s smile is so big, it almost hurts. “Sounds like a good plan.” She brushes a kiss to the apple of Beca’s cheek. “You know what else sounds like a good plan? You giving me the rest of that performance. Preferably with less clothes on.”

Beca’s eyes darken at that, her lips curving into a smirk. “Yes, ma’am.”

#bechloe #bechloe fic

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keelywolfe · 4 years ago

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FIC: Just Swimmingly ch.6 (BAON)

Summary: Kidnapping Stretch doesn't seem like a good choice for life expectancy, really, but his kidnappers are full of bad choices.

Tags: Spicyhoney, Established Relationships, Hurt/Comfort, Kidnapping

Part of the ‘by any other name’ series.

Warning: I want to add a warning here for homophobic language and homophobia. We're switching to the POV of an asshole, so be aware and stay safe!

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Read it on AO3

Read it here!

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Chet was having a bad night.

This wasn’t how it was supposed to go down. None of this was even his idea, all he’d wanted was a chance to make a little money. He didn’t even hate the dust catchers, not like his buddy Steve did. Sure, he thought the fuckers should go back under the mountain and fuck the libs for keeping the government from doing what they should’ve in the first place. If they’d sent in the military when the freaks first showed up, none of this would’ve happened. Stuff ‘em all back under the mountain and leave American jobs for Americans, yeah, that Chet could get behind. He didn’t want ‘em dead, though. Only back where they belonged.

But Steve, man, he was always bitching about ‘em. How they were at all the bars and stores these days, working at the gas station when he bought his cigarettes. Couldn’t take two steps anymore without bumping into a freak. His boss down at the shop even started hiring some of them and Steve spent a whole night with a bug up his ass on that one, the rest of them could barely hear the game.

And yeah, he knew Steve was getting deep into one of them anti-monster groups online. Chet didn’t care, none of his business, and if Steve managed to get arrested one of these days, welp, Chet wasn’t planning on sharing the bunk bed. He’d send a fair thee well letter and keep his ass at the bar, and if Dwayne and Vic were smart, they’d join him.

So, Chet had been just as surprised as the rest of them when Steve introduced them to Jerry. Creepy ass looking motherfucker, even for a monster. Should’ve been his cue right there to get out of dodge, he should've noped the hell out when that Jerry asshole told them he knew an easy way for them to make some money. He should have thanked him and gone for another beer instead, maybe headed down to the sports bar down the street and left all of this shit to the movies.

But Steve was sure it would work and the more he went on about it, the better it sounded. Everyone knew the cops didn’t like monsters, they wouldn’t be in any rush to get involved. The Embassy would pay them off, they’d let the skeleton guy go, and done. And instead of busting his ass every day for his shithead boss, they’d be down in Rio on the beach for the rest of their lives. All they had to do was shake ‘em up, make the Monsters see they weren’t welcome here. No one had to get hurt.

In fact, Scary Jerry had been pretty clear that hurting bone boy was a fast way to lose out on the cash. Turned out that skeletons were fragile little snowflakes and they’d break if anyone got too rough. If they wanted a payday, they’d have to snatch him without a bruise on his pussy little bones and Jerry helped them out with that, too. Drop a couple of tabs in his drink and he’d walk out with them docile as a lamb.

Jerry told them the skeleton was a little slut who fagged around for anyone who’d pay for it. All he was good for was Twitter and blowjobs, and so long as they used the drugs Jerry gave them, no problems.

He’d made a joke about putting his big mouth to good use if they wanted so long as they didn’t rough him up, but Chet didn’t go for that shit. Not from any freak.

Then Jerry stopped showing up to their meetings. That didn’t matter, Steve told them, they already had everything they needed, and Chet believed him like the stupid fucker his dad always said he was. They spent a couple months planning, figuring out skeleton boy’s schedule and when he started the bar routine, they saw their chance.

Only, Chet didn’t like what he was hearing from Steve anymore. Everything went down as planned at the bar, at first, but now there were complications.

To begin with, it was supposed to be the skeleton only. He was the cash cow and now they’d dragged in that other guy. Little faggot was probably bending over for the monster, doing whatever sick shit they did. He deserved whatever asswhipping anyone wanted to hand him, but Steve was taking it too far in Chet’s uneasy opinion.

After they’d sent the ransom video to the embassy, he’d start off on how they seen their faces, those two. Like everyone hadn’t at the bar? That’s why they were supposed to leave the country when they got the cash. The way Steve was talking, it didn’t sound like he wanted to scare the little shits tied up in the other room back underground or even give that Human a good reminder as to why he should hang out with his own faggy kind and give the dust catchers a pass.

Steve sounded a lot like maybe he was thinking of using the gun that was tucked into the waistband of his pants and if the others were as uneasy about that as Chet was, they didn’t say. None of them said much of anything, only drank their congratulatory beers let Steve go on about how there shouldn’t be witnesses, can’t have no witnesses.

That wasn’t at all the plan, the plan was to get the money and let them go, but Chet kept his trap shut, anyway. It was too late now, he was in the thick of it and he couldn’t run without the cash. If he opened his big mouth, he might become a witness instead and that was definitely not a part of the plan.

They’d gone through all the beers and chips when Steve suddenly whirled around, his gun suddenly in his hands. Chet kept a wary eye on it.

“We should check on them,” Steve said abruptly. “Check on them, see what they have to say. Make them tell us how much they saw.”

What could those two say that would sway Steve’s pendulum back into letting them go, Chet wondered. Not much, he didn’t think. They’d swear up and down that they didn’t know what they looked like whether it was true or not and the chances of them not telling anyone whatever they did know was nil. That was what leaving town was for, there was a car waiting, an airport three states away with tickets ready.

But Chet was knee-deep in the shit, had been since the moment that Jerry fuck sat at their table, and all he could do now was keep wading and hope he reached shore.

He followed Steve down the hallway silently, hanging back with Dwayne and Vic as Steve led the way. He flung open the door, gun in hand, and instead of terrified screams there was a fucking explosion. Some kind of bomb and at first Chet thought they were all dead. He’d heard what Monsters could do, his gramma used to tell him tales, horrifying fairy stories of humans who’d died in the war all those years ago, their still-beating hearts ripped free of their mangled bodies.

But once the smoke cleared, there was no blood or torn off limbs, only a smoldering piece of plastic on the floor and two empty chairs with the ropes still around them. They were gone, Chet realized dumbly. Gone and they’d set a little trap before they went, gone, and with it their chance at the money.

Yeah, okay, fuck this.

“Let’s get out of here,” Chet hissed, already backing up towards the door.

“And go where without the money?” Steve demanded. His short hair was sweaty and sticking up in clumps and his face was flushed a dark red, broken blood vessels standing out as bright snaps in his eyes. No one answered. “We stick to the plan, they couldn’t have gotten far. Now start looking!”

Start looking. Chet nodded and fumbled for his own gun, the heavy weight of it unfamiliar despite all the times he went to the firing range. Look around the dusty old warehouse that belonged to the company Dwayne worked for, that he’d sworn up and down was mostly empty and didn’t even have a security guard, perfect for their plan.

Not so perfect if those two managed to wiggle their way out, but he was gonna look, see if maybe they were hiding in a closet somewhere. Chet didn’t know what he was gonna do if he found them, but he was more afraid of what would happen if Steve found them first. Better to start looking first and maybe he could come up with something. Wasn’t like he had any other ideas.

The first couple rooms were empty of anything but dusty cartons and rat crap. Chet kept moving, the jumble of them moving down the hallway as they went from room to room. Found nothing, reporting the same from everyone, and they rounded the corner, still looking. They’d made almost a full circle, ready to go downstairs and try the same maneuver again when there was a loud popping sound and Chet’s first thought was, fuck, Steve found them first, fuck, fuck!

But it wasn’t Steve, it was Vic. Chet watched in disbelief as Vic stumbled out of the room he’d been checking clutching at his face, the exposed skin red and raw. Yellow, stinking smoke followed him out, pouring over them all like a cloud of rotting foulness. Tears pour from Chet’s eyes and he covered his mouth with his sleeve, coughing, trying to squint through stinging smoke even as his panicked mind blubbered that it was acid, the skeleton could spit acid or some shit, they were dead, they were all dead.

Vic fell to the ground, rolling on the filthy linoleum and screaming that his face was burning and maybe Dwayne had the same idea Chet did about the acid. He was closest to the outer door and he stumbled back into it, the doors swinging open as he took off through them. Before Chet could follow, more screams came, wavering between loud and muffled as the doors flapped open and closed.

He got Dwayne, too, Chet thought giddily, fucking monster was gonna kill them all and maybe that was Jerry’s plan from the start.

Chet stood frozen in the hallway, not knowing which way to flee. Didn’t matter, the monster would see him, he was sure of it, see him and get him, tear him open like in the movies, like in gramma’s bedtime stories. Vic was still keening, clutching at the raw sore of his face, and that was when Steve started shooting.

The room was still cloudy with foul yellow smoke and Steve was holding his gun out and firing wildly in a blind spray of bullets. One landed way too close to Chet, embedded into the wall right next to him and fuck this. He fell to the floor and started to crawl.

The air was clearer down here and he could see a little, his watering gaze blurry but he could see enough. Too much, in fact. He pressed down into the floor and watched as Steve was suddenly lifted off his feet and slammed into the ceiling, the wall, the floor.

Up and down and left and right, over and over until he was hanging in the air like a rag doll, slumping limply down, and that was when Chet saw a monster.

No movie creation, no scrawny faggot flailing out on the dance floor like he’d seen earlier. This Monster walked right out of his sweaty nightmares through the drywall dust and smoke, his teeth bared in a skeletal grimace, one eye socket filled with endless blackness that threatened to swallow Chet down and the other a flickering hellfire, a swirling deadly comet crashing through the night sky towards him. Strolling in like Death himself and Chet couldn’t look away, afraid It would fall on him and rip his throat out with those teeth.

It didn’t head for Chet, practically ignored him as It went to stand in front of Steve’s battered, bleeding form.

Steve wasn’t out of the count yet. He tried to raise his gun, but it trembled so hard in his grip he could barely hold it. The Monster didn’t even move, that hellfire gaze going brighter and Steve’s gun was ripped away, clattering down the hallway. The Monster leaned down, one long-fingered hand extending, more fire glowing at the tips of those spindly fingers and Chet only lay there, waiting to watch Steve die and wondering if It would turn on him next.

The voice was unexpected, hoarse and worried, and terribly human. “Stretch, don’t. Enough, okay? Don’t.”

Don’t stretch what? Chet thought, distant and dreamy.

There. The human, the little fag from the bar was standing behind the creature and he was braver than he looked. He set a hand on Its narrow back, said something that Chet couldn’t hear through the soaring ringing in his ears…no, wait, was that the fire alarm?

The demon stopped and closed Its eye sockets, finally hiding that hellfire glow. When he opened them again, his gaze was a pale, bland light, but when he spoke and Chet thought he could feel the vibrations down in his own bones, rattling through him. "enough. yeah, okay.” He crouched down in front of Steve, elbows braced on his skinny thighs and the coldness in his voice rang down the hallway. “here's a judgement for you, pal. enjoy prison."

Chet didn’t wait for the monster to pronounce a judgement on him. He did the only thing he could. He scrambled to his feet and ran. Past Vic, still whimpering on the floor, out through the swinging doors, coughing as he ran into a fresh cloud of smoke and here was Dwayne, stuck fast to the stair railing by some kind of sticky foam that looked like insulation.

He kept running, out into the cool night air, gasping in a clean lungful. He took another stumbling step and stopped. His path to the van was cut off, not that it mattered since he didn’t have the keys. They were upstairs with Steve and there was no fucking way Chet was going back up there, not for any amount of cash; he’d barely escaped with his mortal soul the first time.

But what he saw outside froze his blood. Another skeleton, no, more than that. Monsters, so many Monsters, tall and small, incongruous in their dark suits and none of them looked like a savior but Chet fell to his knees in front of them all anyway, croaking out, "Help me.”

The skeleton grinned and Chet couldn’t spare anymore horror, not even when he saw those jaggedly sharp teeth. “yeah, the honey bun is here, a’right.”

Chet didn’t have a chance to ask what the fuck donuts had to do with anything. Cool metal bracelets slid around his wrists, strong hands hauling him to his feet and towards one of the cars and Chet went willingly, gratefully.

He slumped in the back of the car, resting his face against the cool window glass and did not watch what was going on outside. Didn’t matter, not really, he’d made it out alive and that was it. It was enough.

Eventually, though, he opened his eyes and caught side of the others being led out. Vic, his face visibly raw and red in the spotlights shining everywhere. Dwayne was being rolled out, lying sideways on a stretcher, still wrapped up in foam, and behind the paramedics was Steve with two Monsters on either side of him, caging him in. Dried blood was crusting his nose, but he was on his feet and being led to a car of his own.

In his chest, humor suddenly took hold, bubbling its way out until Chet was giggling alone in the empty car, shrill and unsteady.

Looked like maybe he and Steve would end up sharing bunks after all.

tbc

#spicyhoney #papcest #keelywolfe #underfell #underswap #underfell papyrus #underswap papyrus #by any other name

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anika-ann · 5 years ago

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For a Smile

Type: One-shot, Reader Insert Word count: 5400

Pairing: Steve Rogers x Reader, OC x reader (brief)

Characters: Steve Rogers, Reader, OFC, OC

Summary: You see him run past every morning. So you smile, because he looks like a nice person. How could he not be when he smiles back and the world stops for a while to pay respect to such beauty?

And sometimes… sometimes this incredibly handsome man smiles first.

Warnings: mentions and hints of (psychically) abusive relaionship, suggestive themes, swearing, all the fluff in the world

A/N: I used to pass this guy near a café playing music every morning when I went to school and at some point, our eyes kinda met and we smiled at each other; then we did that every day. I kid you not, he’s got the most beautiful smile I’ve ever seen. It’s not a Hollywood-star smile, no – it’s a guy-next-door smile, heart-warming, with his eyes simply shining. He’s like a kid on Christmas Day… I could ramble on. Anyway, just so you knew what brought this on.

○◦○◦○◦○◦○◦○ ♥ ○◦○◦○◦○◦○◦○

A smile costs less than electricity, and gives more light. (Scottish proverb)

Warm honey, sandstone and apricot orange melting into indigo, cerulean blue and stone-grey sky. Merigold playing with salmon and rose pink, teasing each other and making space to the warmer shades of orange.

You watched the beautiful colours of sunrise as you shifted your legs for a bit, causing the simple plank hanging on two tattered ropes sway, a smile tugging on your lips.

It was a little childish really, or it may appear so to anyone who would be passing by; but given what an early riser you were, just so you could watch this breath-taking game of colours, the little miracle of nature, no person could question you as you were dangling your feet off the old swing.

On your way to work, if the time allowed it, you would always make a stop on your favourite spot; a no-name park in upstate New York you were walking through every day, rather calm and drunks-free at the early hour.

Once upon a time, someone had placed a simple swing on one of the trees farther from the path. You sent a silent thank you every time you parked your behind there. You weren’t a monster; if a kid wanted to sit here, you would have gladly (...reluctantly) made space for them, but they seemed to always be more mesmerized by the playground with the actual swings, the chutes, the monkey bars and the sandpit. You couldn’t say you complained though, having the old-fashioned swing for yourself.

It was childish, perhaps; though your mother had once chosen that you should be going into accounting and so you had. Numbers and bills were things even adults hated, but that was what being old enough meant. You didn’t mind it too often, plunging into them for living, but… you needed to compensate, so you felt entitled.

Plus, the motion of the swing was soothing, as if magically transporting you back to your childhood indeed, with less worries, more ease and pure mind.

Yeah, sitting on the swing was your favouri-

Rapid staccato of feet hitting the ground in the distance, no doubt scaring off the birds chiming their morning songs, reached your ears and you had to admit you wouldn’t be completely honest with yourself if you said this was the favourite moment of your day only because of the aforementioned reasons.

There was one more.

It had strong long sweatpants-clad legs, broad shoulders in a sports t-shirt with seams crying for help, blond hair and-

Your heart melted along with your brain as your lips curled up in a genuine smile you sent in return.

-and the most beautiful smile in the whole universe.

You never spoke. Didn’t say hello. You never even nodded in mutual acknowledgement.

You just… smiled at each other.

And that was your favourite moment of the day crafted to perfection. A breath-taking sunrise, almost eclipsed by a mesmerizing display of the row of perfect white teeth framed by plush coral red lips and the twinkle in beautiful inviting eyes of a stranger.

You knew his name despite never exchanging a single word. Everyone knew his name. But Captain Rogers – Steven Grant Rogers – was a name that held no meaning. He didn’t know yours and probably never would; so strangers was who you were. A couple of strangers exchanging a smile every morning and lightening up (hopefully) each other’s day.

It always felt nice when you glanced at someone on the street, then just… somehow smiled and they smiled back, didn’t it? So what if you were an adult woman dealing with numbers for Stark Industries sitting on a swing and he was a deservedly treasured national icon?

It made no difference.

Just two people sharing a tiny piece of their day for a smile.

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“You’re insane,” your colleague stated dryly as she walked into the office at seven thirty, already finding you with an empty coffee cup, your fingers flying over the keyboard.

“Huh?” you raised your eyes from the screen on autopilot, not really paying attention.

You still noticed Harry rolling her eyes; it was just that distinctive.

“I said that you’re insane, you crazy-ass lark. My brain isn’t even awake yet. To be fair, I’m ninety percent sure I met Captain Handsome in the hall along with our boss, so it’s hard to tell if I’m dreaming or not, having a vision like that.”

“Captain Handsome?” you frowned, your mind racing, desperately trying to remember who was Harriet’s newest crush. ‘Captain Handsome’ could be literally anyone.

“Our resident Star-Spangled Man, you dummy. You’re low on caffeine. Or sleep. That’s what you get, getting up in such an ungodly hour…” she hummed, crossing her arms on her chest as she looked at you sceptically, a drop of disappointment in her eyes.

Oh. Oh! That made sense; if the man was with Tony Stark, the range of options narrowed significantly, especially since your friend had called him a captain. Except it didn’t make any sense at all.

“What was he doing here? I mean… since when is he wandering in our department? It’s all across the compound here from the training area.”

“Well, look who’s actually awake and bright-minded…” It was your turn to roll your eyes at your friend. “My point exactly. No clue, but lemme tell you – seeing that ass? Definitely made my day,” she threw over her shoulder as she stalked to the coffee machine and you couldn’t but chuckle at her bluntness.

Your stranger had an amazing smile, that was true. But your gaze did slide elsewhere on occasion too; which was why you would never try to disprove Harry’s claim.

“We might have the Ironman for a boss, but, girl… I’d like to know what Rogers’ ass is made of then,” she added and you burst into another fit of giggles, your face feeling hot all of sudden when your mind unhelpfully supplied with ‘vibranium’.

What would it feel like?

Yeah, you definitely needed to go back to your numbers before your impure thoughts got the best of you.

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The first time you two met outside the park, you were in a bar.

You hadn’t seen him for almost a month, assuming he went on a long-drawn mission; one that had ended well, clearly, since he was out drinking. Just eyeing his companions and instantly noting his body language, you could tell he was suffering. Like, not literally suffering, but it was very much obvious he was not feeling comfortable.

His eyes were drifting all over the place, as Sam Wilson and Bucky Barnes laughed loudly, patting his shoulders while a hint or red dusted his cheeks, and then they fell on you.

His face was screaming ‘save me!’; yet, his smile was still as warm and kind as ever, an impossible spark within his irises, visible even from the distance. That twinkle was always the biggest mystery to you, because logically, no person could have eyes so bright, but here he was, proving your claim wrong.

Your lips spread in a smile automatically and encouraged by your second drink, you considered adding a small silly wave.

Before you could execute the decision, the result of your two last braincells arguing whether it would be more silly or sweet, an arm sneaked around your shoulders and your smile widened on instinct at the sensation. You turned your head to Cade and met his lips halfway to yours.

You had been dating for almost a month now and this inconspicuous guy from logistic of a giant company that was surprisingly not Stark Industries was a dream coming true. He was showering you with so much attention you weren’t sure he was real. Late-night conversations via phonecalls or texts, good morning, good night, kisses that lasted long enough for you to forget that you in fact needed oxygen, touches that set you on fire. He was easy to fall in love with.

“Whatcha thinkin’ ‘bout that got you smilin’ so wide, babe?” he whispered to your ear, grazing your earlobe with his teeth.

Gosh, you wanted him. The first sex hadn’t been so great, Cade chasing his own release, but hey, first times were always hard in a new relationship. The more were you excited about your second time and you were confident the second time would happen tonight.

“Nah, just smiling at strangers. You know that feeling, so nice, when you just toss a smile and they smile back?” your eyes found his, only to see him frown.

“I like it better when you smile for me, babe. What did some stranger do for you to deserve that?” he hummed discontentedly, pouting adorably as his hand slid lower to squeeze your hip possessively. It sent a spark through your body, a lightning striking right into your core.

“Just teasing you, Cade. I was thinking about how I lucked out,” you batted your eyelashes and a slow delicious smirk played with the corner of his mouth all of sudden, intensifying the heat inside of you.

“Wanna get out of here, pretty thing? Lemme show you how lucky you are?” he whispered, the pad of his thumb grazing your lower lip, pulling it down a fraction. “Or maybe… show me how much you think you lucked out, huh? How much you appreciate being mine?”

God, yes.

Judging by the glint in his eyes and the hungry kiss that lasted too short – but too long for such a public place – he didn’t need a verbal confirmation. He swung by the bar to pay for your drink and practically dragged you out of the rather crowded space. Your head was spinning a bit and you couldn’t tell whether it was excitement or alcohol. Either way, you really, really liked it.

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“You know that Cade was a dick right?” Harry noted nonchalantly while she handed you a cup of coffee and assessed (correctly) that you were sulking again, thinking back to that one particular night when you had noticed the first sign – or you would have if you hadn’t been such a goddamn idiotic goose of a woman, drunk on top of that.

You sighed and sipped your punishingly bitter dose of caffeine.

You were positively brooding and you didn’t care if it affected anyone else. The world apparently hated you and you couldn’t quite blame it.

Not even your precious strangers-exchanging-smile moments felt the same anymore. First, your stranger had started smiling less brightly after your encounter at the bar and then, even if it had changed, you wouldn’t be able to tell, because you were too wrapped in your own misery. Even the curve of his lips looked sad, which was a stupid thing to say, because he had no way of knowing about either Cade turning out to be an abuser-in-making or about you breaking things off with him and cracking your fragile heart in the process, while yelling at yourself mentally every morning and still longing for Cade’s arms around you since it always felt oh, oh so good to be held…

You recognized the signs early, but not soon enough. You let it escalate into him trying to control when you went out and with whom, him lashing out when you wouldn’t respond to his text in longer than five-minutes time, letting him yell at you when you missed his call… he loved you, after all, he just missed you and was afraid you were with someone else, and oh babe, come here, you can make it up to me…

Your sister had gone through something similar, for god’s sake. You should have noticed sooner. You should have known better. But no, you had allowed your body, your twat to be precise, to rule your brain and that had been stupid.

Cade had tried to get in touch several times after your break-up, even waiting in front of your apartment until you would go out once; you might have threatened him with a restraining order after that particular day and he had stopped quickly after that, only two of three attempts with a new e-mail address and number to get pass you blocking his previous ones.

Still. It made you miserable. And perhaps a bit self-hateful.

You deserved every bitter drop of Harry’s horrible coffee and more.

“I was being blind and stupid,” you opposed and returned to your figures, deciding your exchange was over. Figures were clear enough; they were easy to read and didn’t make your brain drunk on endorphins and other very specific hormones allowing you to act like a teenage girl, excited at her first boyfriend groping her. “Thanks for the coffee.”

A huff sounded above your head and suddenly your swivel chair was being yanked back and turned around, a pair of strict chocolate eyes boring into your soul with startling clarity. Harry’s fingers were wrapped around the armrests as she was leaning into your space.

You backed into your chair instinctively. She looked menacing.

“He was a charming bastard from what I heard and his type always knows how to manipulate people, letting them see what he wants them to see. It’s not your fault. You’re one badass of a woman, smart as hell for noticing before it escalated. You’re my hero. Mine and every other person’s who has ever been in or even heard of an abusive relationship. You can do better than him. It’s a funny coincidence they spelled his name wrong anyway.”

You blinked away your sudden tears, immensely grateful for her words that somehow wormed their way inside your very core (you blamed the intense stare that reminded of your mother’s when she was giving you the kind of talk that was too serious for you to handle) and yet you tilted your head in confusion, not understanding the meaning of her last statement.

“Huh? His… his name?” you stuttered, baffled.

Harry positioned your chair back to its place with a grin and went back to her own business.

“Clearly, they added an ‘E’ at the end. What a stupid typo…” she threw over her shoulder cheekily and when you caught up, understanding her point, you released the first honest laughter in what felt like a year.

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Your life had been set off to better course after that short conversation. You felt like you were healing every day, finding yourself lighter. Happier. Freer of the baggage Cade had tried to left you with. The sensation was indescribable and it radiated from you; some days more noticeably than others.

You found yourself indulging the blond stranger’s smiles once more, finally seeing the spark in his eyes again, the genuine curve of his lips warming your heart and starting off your day in the best way imaginable.

Naturally, life had a reliable means of showing you it could suck.

Right when you thought that you were fine, it delivered another blow; your favourite place in the world… ceased to exist.

Someone put the swing in the park down.

They just… erased it from existence.

Maybe they considered it dangerous. Maybe they were being dicks. Maybe they thought it was old and ugly. It didn’t quite matter.

You could weep, mourning your intimate inanimate friend.

You didn’t cry. But it was a damn close call as you shuffled towards the playground and eyed it sceptically. You knew it wouldn’t be the same and not just because the swings were in a plain sight, but they also looked too fancy, to actually child-like and— they weren’t your swing. Your sanctuary. Your private space. Your secret place you never told anyone about, not Cade or your previous boyfriends, not your family, not Harry or other friends, not to anyone.

You watched the sun rise on the horizon, ridiculously heavy feeling in your chest, ignorant to the rest of the world.

God, you hated Mondays. You already knew this week was about to be a disaster.

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“There’s a swing outside in the green area.”

“Huh?” you hummed distractedly, too deep into figures to register more than the sound of your friend’s voice. What was her name again? What was yours? What day was today? What was the time? Had you already had lunch? Had the lunch-time already passed…?

A chuckle followed by a to-be offended tone responded to your intelligent way of communicating.

“I’m starting to think ‘Huh’ is my name with how often you call me that,” Harry (aha!) remarked with a hint of sass, but repeated herself, because she knew she shouldn’t take it personal that you didn’t quite payed her any attention. You were a person who would get sucked into their own world, too focused on one task to acknowledge anything else. “A swing. In our compound park. It’s kinda cute, hidden from a plain sight though, a simple wooden thing.”

You slowly raised your eyes to hers, your pupils widening with surprise. Your pulse was roaring in your ears, your heartbeat no doubt shaking your whole frame.

Harry was telling you that there was… a swing. In the compound area. Hidden from everyone’s prying eyes, at least partly.

Why?

How?

You could only come up with one ridiculous theory which involved you, but that idea alone was laughable. Why would anyone do that for you? More importantly, how did anyone know-

“You think it’s an invitation for children? Like, is ‘bring your kids to work’ day happening any time soon? ‘cause, not to be rude and greedy, but one swing doesn’t seem like— hey!” Harry called after you, but you could barely hear her as you jumped to your feet, your heels be damned, and strode through the halls with zero regards to anyone in your way.

Not that there was a soul; people actually worked around here, too busy to wander the halls.

The thing was, that one theory about the swing didn’t just involve you. It involved one more person, but that person was a stranger to you and had no reason to even… acknowledge you. Besides the obvious part of your day that no longer existed – not in the way it used to. But the thought was simply laughable.

A different part of your brain raised a figurative sceptical eyebrow, argumenting that you had no better explanation for the phenomenon.

Because… you loved Harry. She knew about your traditional early morning watching the sunrise, but not about the swing. The swing was always a secret, no one knew, except… except one particular guy who always passed you on his morning run and exchanged a smile with you and just happened to work at the very same compound you did and technically had the power to pull the strings to make this happen.

With your heart hammering in your chest, you gasped for fresh air when you finally made it out of the building, your eyes searching for a calm spot, a tree in whose shades you could possibly find a prove of Harry not pulling your leg.

Your heart positively stopped when your eyes fell on the simple plank hanging on two ropes, indeed offering a safe space for anyone who decided to sit there in search for serenity.

You felt tears stinging in your eyes, your feet moving of their own will despite semi-high heels digging into the ground an inch with each step, bringing you closer to that little, yet breath-taking miracle. A chuckle escaped your lips when your trembling fingers brushed the grey ropes, more of your senses acknowledging that this was in fact happening.

Your hand followed the line of the rope, sliding to the plank, only to notice a rough sensation on your fingertips in the corner. A carving, you realized.

Tears of surprise actually welled up when you recognized they were initials. Your initials.

How-- how was that possible?

‘Sit down, you dummy!’ your consciousness cried out exasperatedly. ‘It’s clearly for you!’

“But why?” you asked it under your breath incredulously, thousands of questions ruminating, no answers on the horizon.

Regardless, you reluctantly lowered yourself, shocked when your feet dangled above the ground in precisely the same way they used to-- they used to in the park. It was even installed in the same height.

Reverently, you gave the swing a test-drive, just tiny motions of your feet to try it out.

It was perfect.

Your gaze fell on a sign on the tree trunk, small, subtle and harmonizing with the place without a fault.

Sanctuary of the kind ones. Do not disturb, it read.

You giggled breathlessly, lightheaded and with no care in the world.

That naturally changed when you spotted your very much expectant colleague in the distance, her arms crossed on her chest, figuratively tapping her foot and screaming questions without saying a single word.

The thing is, you thought, I have no idea how to answer.

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Perhaps it was naïve, a child-like trust and excitement, but the next day, you went to your new spot expecting to enjoy the sunrise there and not to be disturbed indeed.

You weren’t.

What you couldn’t quite prepare yourself for was the single daisy lying on the wood, starling you to no end. Hesitating all of sudden, you searched your surroundings, wondering if you interrupted someone else’s plan. Perhaps someone had the same initials as you and whoever made this happen had a different person in mind, doing it for them and the swing was just a funny coincidence.

But then in the middle of your mussing – on the swing, because, screw it, you might as well enjoy this since no one had kicked you out yet – a familiar figure ran past, gracing you with a beautiful smile, once again without a word and with a shy gaze falling to the ground after you met their eyes. With that, it… actually started to settle.

He had done this for you. For some incredible inexplicable reason… your smiling ‘stranger’ offered you a kindness of unseen measures.

And as if it wasn’t enough, you would find a different flower on the wood every day for the whole week. They weren’t even fancy flowers, which made it absolutely magical. Daisy. Tulip. Lilly. No red roses, only cute blossoms, matching the simplicity of the swing.

Harry was nearing the verge of insanity due to your goofy smiles and flowers in your hands; but you remained tight-lipped like an international spy during an interrogation, too afraid that if you said it out loud, sharing that ridiculous impression you were getting these days with anyone, your bubble would burst.

And surely enough, as if you jinxed it mentally, the next Wednesday, no flower waited for you.

It was ridiculous how your mood died instantly. It could have had hundreds of explanations including the one that he went for a mission, because he was Captain Freaking America, in case your stupid heart forgot, but nope, you would still feel the corners of your lips turn down.

You watched the shades of orange bleeding into blue and grey, lost in thought and with unsettling longing in your heart.

You suspected his steps sounded purposely loud when they came from behind you, where you wouldn’t expect them. You didn’t need to see the familiar Nikes on his feet to know it was him; you doubted anyone else would approach you, let alone at such early hour.

Yet you would lie saying your heart didn’t skip a beat when he stopped in his slow tracks by your side, steady feet next to your dangling ones, and you had his identity confirmed.

Your throat went dry and stiff, your voice dying before it could form.

“It’s beautiful, isn’t it?” he whispered reverently, not disturbing the peace of the indeed lovely scenery in front of you.

You didn’t dare to look away from the sunrise as your voice came out unfairly scratchy, a stark contrast to his deep and smooth one that felt like a caress on your skin.

“It is.”

Silence fell on your pair again, but it wasn’t uncomfortable. The birds sung their morning songs, waking up the world and you didn’t think words were needed. Except you owed him something, and you wanted to say it.

Reluctantly tearing your gaze away from the painting by the most amazing artist, the nature itself, you casted a glance at him.

You didn’t realize you had never seen him still; duh, you did know that, but what didn’t quite click in your brain was that you would be able to see him in all his glory, soft smile and an absent gaze framed by long eyelashes, shadows casted all over his face and body, playing games which gave him a surprisingly ethereal aura for a man of his built.

Your stomach tied itself into a knot at the sight and the ‘thank you’ got once again stuck in your throat when his eyes turned to you as well, you breath stolen from your lungs, your lips parting uselessly and curling into a smile on instinct when his did.

Despite seeing the too startling sparkle up close, you couldn’t tear your eyes away from the deep blue with a hint of green of his irises. It was just too captivating, locking you in a sweet cage you didn’t feel trapped in, but free and suddenly able to breathe in again.

“Thank you,” slipped from your lips unwittingly, shocking to your own ears.

The very same hint of scarlet you remembered from the infamous bar encounter dusted his cheeks, his smile softening as he turned a bashful gaze away, now fixated on the ground.

“Just wanted to see you smile again. Best part of my day,” he admitted, peeking at you from the insanely long and thick eyelashes and you could melt on spot, dizzying vertigo overcoming you at the sweet words. Good thing you were sitting.

You had no idea how to respond, your heartbeat thumping in your temples, your face feeling too hot and chest pleasantly warm at such admission. Your teeth went to chew on your lip and you abruptly stopped yourself. Bad, bad habit.

“Was… was that the only thing? Because the swing would be more than enough, let alone with my initials, and the flowers-“

“Maybe-“ he softly interrupted your lame attempt at flirting which had turned into a babble, but with same nerves coursing his voice unless your senses were playing tricks on you. A shiver ran down your spine at the realization that he might be as nervous as you were-- the strangest thing in the world, wouldn’t it be? “Maybe I could tell you… over a coffee?”

A daffodil entered your field of vision, happy, bright and yet somehow shy in his big hand and you didn’t think twice before accepting it, your fingers brushing his skin in the process only half-accidentally. Passing you the flower, he offered you a hand so he could assist you in standing up.

Ah, as if he knew your knees felt wobbly and uncooperating with the overwhelming turn of events.

You didn’t hesitate to accept that either. You had a hunch that the manners of a forties’ man would be offended if you didn’t anyway.

“Thank you. Again.”

The twinkle in his eyes shone brighter at your words, his smile widening.

“My pleasure.”

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“If I trip over something, I’ll bully you into carrying me everywhere for the next month,” you threatened in a joking manner as your boyfriend of one year led you through his apartment with his huge palm sprawled over your eyes, while his other gently rested on your lower back, making sure you maintained some balance.

“I wouldn’t complain about that. Are you serious? Because I just might let you trip then…” he teased back and you could hear the grin in his voice, mesmerized by the happy note in it. You would roll your eyes at him fondly, but he wouldn’t see it, so there was no point.

“Don’t you dare…”

“Okay, let’s stop now,” he whispered in your ear, his hand shifting to your hip to squeeze lightly, causing you to shiver. You and Steve had taken your time when it came to physical aspect of your relationship (past certain bases anyway), so a touch like that still sent a delicious electrifying feeling through your whole body.

As if you weren’t excited enough ever since the moment he had told you he had had a surprise for you.

Chewing on your lower lip, you followed his gentle instruction and stopped in your tracks.

“Should I be afraid?” you asked for the fourth time in the past five minutes.

“Terrified,” he confirmed in a joking manner. “You ready?”

Not waiting for your answer, he uncovered your eyes and with a deep inhale, you snapped them open.

Only for your breath to hitch at the sight in front of you.

“Oh my god... it’s beautiful!” you exclaimed, a surprised chuckle escaping past your lips.

In the corner of the living room, soft marigold pillows laid in a circular hammock chair coloured in the indigo of an early sunrise, practically begging for you to jump in and nestle there with a book and relax.

Instantly reminded of how you met Steve in the first place, you couldn’t but spun on your heels and threw your arms around him, strong arms eagerly welcoming you as his chest shook with hushed chuckle.

“Glad you like it,” he murmured, hiding his face in your hair, raising you from the floor effortlessly. “Happy anniversary, sweetheart.”

“Thank you, thank you, thank you! Happy anniversary, Steve. This truly is amazing. I love it!”

“But not more than me?”

It was your turn to chuckle as you retreated, placing a kiss on his nose and earning a pout that simply had to be kissed away.

“No, Steve, not even this amazing hammock compares to you. I’ll show you exactly how much I love you in a sec, I just have to test it out,” you promised.

He released you with no protest and watched with a fond smile as you climbed in with a child-like excitement, the corners of his eyes twinkling. He slowly made his way to you as the hammock swung gently with your weight and you sent him a delighted grin as he sat on his heels in front of you, his hands landing on the edges so he had the control over the movements.

“What’s the verdict?” he pried softly and you opened your mouth to respond with enough enthusiasm to power the state of New York for a year; but he continued. ”Is it comfy enough for you to… make you consider- that maybe-- you could… stay here more often?”

Your breath hitched, your throat swelling when you got a pretty good idea of what he was asking from his serious gaze. Yet, you needed to make sure, butterflies in your stomach flipping their wings wildly as you leaned forward, invisible magnets pulling you towards him.

“And by ‘more often’ you mean-“

“All the time,” he whispered, his eyes roaming your face nervously, trying to spy a reaction, read the answer in your expression alone.

You chuckled incredulously, ecstatic at such proposition, and placed your palms to both sides of Steve’s face, grateful for his grip on the hammock and trusting him not to let you faceplant on him with how hazardous the kiss you gave him was.

Your eyelids fluttered close, but you felt his smile as his lips engaged in a tender dance with yours, one of his hands sneaking to the side of your neck to pull you closer, tilting your head as his tongue teased your lips to part.

How could you deny him anything even when you felt like you were about to fall face-down any second? He would be under you when you landed anyway. What more could you wish for-

“I love you,” he breathed to your mouth as he broke the kiss for one damned second that felt like eternity; one second in which you forgot to suck more air in even when given the opportunity. Who needed oxygen anyway? You could breathe Steve in and live blissfully, it was what you were trying to do for the past minute and it was glorious- “That’s a yes, right?”

A chuckle escaped you as you dodged another kiss, his lips landing in your hair instead, the hammock swaying hazardously. Mm, seemed like your supersoldier was too distracted to watch your balance.

“Yes. The hammock totally convinced me,” you teased him lightly, an idea striking you when you said those words. Climbing down as he was still sitting in front of you on his heels, you lowered yourself on him, nestling in his lap and leaning to his ear and sharing your not necessarily filthy thought in a breathless whisper. “But I think I still like sitting right here much better.”

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S.R. masterlist

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Tags: @mermaidxatxheart

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Thank you for reading :-*

P.S. - Keep smiling; at the people you love whenever you can, at strangers and at the person you see in the mirror :))

#marvel #fanfiction #steve rogers x reader #steve rogers imagine #steve rogers fanfiction #mcu #captain america fanfiction #captain america x reader #captain america imagine #reader insert #fluff #one-shot #steve rogers oneshot #captain america oneshot #avengers #captain america #for a smile #anika ann

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yet-another-fan-girl9 · 4 years ago

Text

Different Worlds (6)

Summary: You’re the youngest Winchester, a girl who needs to show her big brothers that she doesn’t need help. Then one day, on a totally normal vampire hunt that you had all under control, three meddling Avengers come barging in.

Warnings: language, violence, canon divergence, slow burn, me making stuff up

Word Count: 2342

A/N: I hope you all enjoy reading this chapter as much I enjoyed writing it! Please comment your thoughts and if you want to be added to the taglist! 💗💜💙

~*~

Chapter 6: In Which Dean Is an Annoying Cockblock on Earth and in Hell by Fall Out Boy

“You’re back soon.” The words spilled from Jack’s mouth when he saw Bucky.

“Yeah, I just…” Bucky shifted his feet awkwardly. Why did he come here again? He certainly was curious at everything that was going on, but there was something, someone, else.

“Come in.” The young man stepped aside and Bucky stepped into the bunker. “Did you want to see (Y/N)?”

“That would be great.” The ex-assassin did feel more comfortable around (Y/N) rather than her brothers.

They passed the library where the team had learned about the supernatural. Today, the tables were covered in strange items, bowls, and open books. Nobody was doing anything with them at the moment, though.

Jack led Bucky deeper into the bunker which seemed empty at the moment. Bucky studied the man in front of him. He didn’t look like a great fighter, but after everything that was revealed to him, Jack could totally kick his ass. They walked down a hallway before coming to a stop in front of one of the doors.

“Everyone’s getting ready,” Jack explained. Ready for what, Bucky didn’t know and Jack didn’t specify. “This is (Y/N)’s room. You can wait in here.”

He opened the door for Bucky before heading back in the direction they came from. The first thing he noticed was that (Y/N) wasn’t there. Then he saw the other door and heard the sound of running water. She was probably showering.

(Y/N)’s room was clean enough; Bucky knew that it was sometimes hard to gather enough energy to clean up. Her blankets were pulled over her bed, but it was obvious that the action was done haphazardly. Her drawers weren’t closed all the way; a sign of either laziness or being rushed. A few photographs were displayed on the nearby desk that was cluttered with crumpled balls of paper, hair ties, and a couple of knives.

Bucky smirked at the sight of the knives before turning his attention to the photos. The first one showed a group photo. He recognized (Y/N), her brothers, and Cas, but not the two other women or the man in the wheelchair. Everyone, especially (Y/N), looked much younger.

The second picture was another group picture. This time, Jack was in it so it had been taken in the past… how old was Jack? Seven years? That fact still threw Bucky off. He was used to older people looking younger, like Steve and himself, rather than the opposite.

The last photo was much older than the first one. A woman wearing a sundress and a large sun hat was smiling widely at the camera while holding the hand of a toddler. Bucky came to the quick conclusion that it was (Y/N) and her mother.

The sound of the en suite’s door opening caused him to whirl around to face (Y/N). Why didn’t he hear the water turn off? The woman looked up and gasped at the sight of the man in her room.

“Jesus fucking Christ, Bucky,” she scolded and placed a hand over her chest.

That’s when he noticed that she didn’t have a shirt on. She had on jeans and a sports bra, and he saw a tattoo above her left collar bone. Bucky still wasn’t used to seeing women in just bras. Walking down the streets of New York, there were always advertisements for women’s lingerie. It made him uncomfortable, but for some reason, he didn’t feel the same discomfort around her.

As Bucky’s thoughts ran wild, (Y/N) continued swearing.

“You scared the goddamned fucking shit out of me. Don’t do that again or I’ll use you as a sacrifice,” the woman finished her rant. Then a smile broke out on her face. “What are you doing here?”

“Just—I… uh,” the usually suave supersoldier stuttered. He didn’t know what made his brain stop working. Maybe it was because of (Y/N)’s lack of shirt? Or maybe it was just being in her presence that halted all train of thought.

“What’s wrong?” She followed his gaze and looked down before laughing. “Oh, usually I get dressed in the bathroom in case something like this happens but I forgot a shirt this time. Some people living here don’t understand personal space.” Bucky’s face grew red and (Y/N) narrowed her eyes. “Was it Jack or Cas who let you in because I know my brothers wouldn’t even let you close to my room.”

“Jack,” Bucky laughed and felt himself relax. “I didn’t mean to startle you, by the way.” A moment of silence. “Is that your mother?” He gestured towards the photo.

(Y/N) moved closer until they were standing just over a foot away. She glanced at the photo and nodded in confirmation.

“She’s really pretty,” Bucky continued. “You look like her.”

(Y/N) looked at him with a large grin on her face. “Did you just call me pretty, Sarge?”

He felt his breath hitch as she inched closer to him. Bucky was sure that she could see all the details on his face because he could see every detail of her’s. He could see a small scar near her hairline and another one above her right eyebrow. He could see into her breathtaking eyes. He followed the slope of her nose which led his eyes to her soft lips. They were beckoning to him, parted slightly as (Y/N) studied his face. When had they gotten so close? If he just bent down slightly…

“(Y/N)!” Dean’s incessant banging on her bedroom door forced them apart. “What’s takin’ so long? Get your ass moving!” Then they heard his footsteps recede.

“I have to go,” (Y/N) sighed.

She slipped on a shirt, grabbed her knives and leather jacket, and walked out of her room. Bucky followed her out and could tell she felt the same way he did at the moment: disappointed. Why did her brother have to knock then?

They emerged into the library. Everyone looked up at their arrival and everyone but Jack did a double-take when they saw Bucky. Sam and Dean’s mouths became straight lines while Rowena, who was bent over a book, smirked.

“I guess you’re the reason she was taking so long,” Cas said.

“What are you doing?” Bucky asked, mostly to (Y/N).

“We’re going to Hell,” Jack smiled.

“Crowley took the Magicae Libro while we all drank beers the other day,” (Y/N) explained. “So we’re going to Hell to take it back from that son of a bitch.”

“Don’t call me a bitch, darling,” Rowena cooed as she added something to a bowl. “Is everyone ready?”

(Y/N) gasped and turned to face Bucky with her eyes wide. “You’re not busy, right? ‘Course you aren’t, otherwise, you wouldn’t be here.” She paused for a breath. “Do you wanna come to Hell with us?”

“Are you sure that’s wise, (Y/N)?” Sam asked.

“I’ll come,” Bucky said. “I can handle myself, I’m a supersoldier.” (Y/N) smiled at him and he was glad he said yes.

“I’m only saying okay because we don’t have time to argue,�� growled Dean.

Rowena motioned for Sam who walked over to the bowl, cut his hand, and let his blood mix with the other ingredients. He stepped back next to Cas. The man in the trenchcoat nodded to Sam. Cas held his hand, that began to glow, above the taller man’s wounded hand and suddenly Sam’s hand was healed. Bucky watched the interaction with awe, but everyone else seemed used to it.

“Everyone who’s going, put your hand on the bowl,” Rowena ordered. They obliged and Cas moved out of the way.

“Remember, Cas,” said Dean. “Don’t let the fire die, or we’ll be stuck in Hell.”

“I know, Dean.” The angel rolled his eyes.

“Initium ad inferna permittatur,” Rowena read from her book. She picked up a nearby candle and lit the bowl’s content on fire.

The items in the bowl sparked and the flame turned purple. Some wind started to blow through the room causing hair to get into eyes and mouths. The library’s lights flickered as a bright white light filled the room and the purple flame jumped higher. Then everything reached its max and the flame almost reached the ceiling.

Bucky closed his eyes against the light and when he opened them again they were in Hell.

~*~

Once everyone got their bearings, you took out your weapons. You and Sam had angel blades and Dean had his demon-killing knife. Jack had his powers and Rowena had her magic.

“Here.” You nudged Bucky and held out a second angel blade. “Regular guns and knives don’t do shit to fuckers like demons.” He took it in his metal arm and examined it. “It’s called an angel blade. ‘Cause they belong to the angels. We kinda took ‘em, we did take them, but they can kill lots of things.”

Bucky smiled at you. “Thanks.”

“So where do you suppose we are?” Dean looked around.

“Somewhere in the castle,” Sam answered. “Hopefully near the throne room.”

“Looks like Fergus redecorated again,” Rowena sighed.

“Rowena is Crowley’s mom and his name was Fergus,” you whispered to Bucky when you saw his confused expression. “Don’t worry, it gave me a bit of a headache too.”

You walked quietly and cautiously down the castle’s hallways in pairs. Your brothers at the head of the line while you and Bucky lingered in the back. There were no encounters yet. Only seemingly endless doors that you knew held souls that were in line for torture. You remembered your time behind one of those doors. In total, you had spent fifteen earth days in Hell which was more like five years downstairs.

“How are you doing?” you whispered to Bucky. You were getting a bit bored sneaking around. And, of course, being in Hell wasn’t a pleasant experience.

“Fine,” he responded.

Wow, you loved his voice. Even in the literal Hell, Bucky and his voice managed to soothe you. Your mind flashed back to the moment in your bedroom. Only Chuck knew how bad you had wanted to punch your older brother for being a cockblock. Honestly, you still wanted to punch him, but now was definitely not the time.

“There’s just a general feeling of unease and despair,” he continued.

You nodded in agreement. “I never like coming here.”

“So you have been to Hell before?”

“Yep,” you said a bit louder than you intended and Rowena looked back at you with a glare. You lowered your voice and continued, “Been here both as a guest and a soul.”

“When you died,” the blue-eyed man said slowly. “You came to Hell and you were tortured?” You nodded. “I-if you don’t mind me asking, how?”

“Well, there were lots of different ways.” You trained your eyes on the ground before you. “The usual strung up on racks and cut open torture. There was some psychological torture, you know. Making you think that you’re saved, only to be brought to some demon who likes to flay people.”

You felt Bucky’s gaze and looked up to meet it. You weren’t met with pity, but rather a look of understanding. You’ve done your research on Sergeant James Buchanan Barnes and you know that he’s been through something like Hell too.

“Apparently, according to Cas, Crowley turned Hell into a giant line that souls had to wait in,” you said trying to lighten the mood.

“Can I ask you another question?”

“You just did,” you smirked at him but told him to ask away.

“You have a tattoo,” he said. “I was just wondering what it was.”

“Not really a question,” you joke. Bucky rolled his eyes, but you couldn’t help yourself. “But it’s an anti-possession tattoo.” You stop in your tracks and pull your shirt collar down to show him. “Kinda puts a damper on things when you have to kill a demon possessing your friend. All hunters get them. If you’re gonna be hangin’ ‘round us, you’re gonna need one too.”

“Can I?” He reached out his right hand and motioned towards the tattoo.

When you gave your nod of approval, he ran his hand over the inked skin, tracing it gently, leaving goosebumps in its wake. You stepped closer and his hand stilled.

“I’m sorry,” he mumbled.

“What for?” You bring your empty hand up to his and held it to your chest.

“That you had to be tortured. That you actually went through Hell.”

“You don’t need to apologize for that. Not at all.” You stepped closer. Close enough to feel his body heat. “I’m sorry as well. You basically went through Hell too.”

“You don’t need to apologize for that,” Bucky repeated.

His lips were so close. If you just moved forward…

The sound of someone loudly and obnoxiously clearing their throat forced you apart once more. You closed your eyes and tried to convince yourself that you shouldn’t resort to murder just because you couldn’t kiss someone. Dean continued to clear his throat until Bucky was at least three feet away from you.

While you were gearing up to kiss Bucky, the four other members of the group had made it to the end of the hallway. You made your way to the group, glaring at your oldest brother the entire way.

“About time,” he snarked and you rolled your eyes.

“I think we’re getting close,” Sam said quickly to change the subject. “Can you guys hear that?” He gestured to the ornate door that had escaped your notice.

You all became silent and the sound of music reached your ears. Everyone glanced around at each other in confusion.

“Is-is that,” you listen for a second longer, “Fall Out Boy?”

It was indeed Fall Out Boy. Dean pushed open the door and you all readied your weapons and defenses. You were met with a long table covered in food. Crowley stood at the head of the table with his arms open wide.

“Welcome to Hell.”

~*~

Tag List (strike though means tag didn’t work):

@grav3dollie-666 @broco8

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colbybrocksmolder · 5 years ago

Text

Welcome To The Family – Colby Brock x Reader

“Colby.” You gasped, your hands flying to your stomach. The two of you were in the middle of cooking ‘breakfast’ (don’t judge a pregnant woman for wanting hash browns at 3 am) when something felt a little…off.

“Is he kicking?” Colby asked, his hands moving to smooth over part of your belly that your hands weren’t covering.

“Oh, he’s kicking alright. I think he’s about to kick the door down.” You answered, feeling a wet sensation fall down your legs. Being 37 weeks pregnant made it a bit difficult to find comfortable clothes so you were currently in your undies and one of Colby’s tank tops.

“Wait, what?” Colby asked before following your line of sight to the now wet floor. He started mumbling something to himself, his eyes still staring at the floor.

The reality of the situation hit you and you stayed silent for a moment before quietly laughing. “I swear I didn’t pee.”

His eyes shot up to meet yours. “You’re okay, right?” The two of you hadn’t moved in nearly a minute. You nodded, a few stray silent tears making a break for it and falling down your cheeks. Colby’s fingers moved to wipe them away. “Are you in pain yet?” he asked, cradling your face in his hands.

“Not yet.” You said, shaking your head. You were kind of afraid to move. You took a deep breath. “This is real.”

Colby couldn’t stop the huge smile that spread over his face. “This is real, baby.” He said, leaning over your belly to kiss you. “Holy shit, this is real. NATE! NATE, WAKE UP!”

Nate had been staying with you guys for about a month. Colby was too afraid to leave you home alone when he went to film and Nate was on break from school. Up in the loft, you heard Nate roll off the air mattress and hit the floor. “WHAT?!” He yelled, startled.

“Go wake Sam up! Y/n’s water broke!” he answered.

Nate flew down the stairs and out the door to get Sam.

Colby guided you towards your bedroom, holding on to you to make sure you didn’t slip or fall. “Do you want to change?” he asked.

“Honestly, I’m afraid to bend or move or do anything.” You said, the anticipation starting to settle in and overwhelm you.

“Baby, here. Sit down on the edge of the bed. I’ll get you changed.” Colby helped you sit and lean back, getting you into fresh undies. “Why don’t you just wear one of my really long shirts.” He suggested, grabbing one from the closet quickly.

All you could do was nod and breathe. He knew that trying to get you into anything more than that right now was going to be a struggle and he wanted to keep you as calm as possible. “I love you” was your quiet thank you after Colby had helped you change and get back up off of the bed.

“I love you, too. Both of you. So much.” Colby replied, kissing you and helping you walk back out towards the living room.

“I’M HERE! WE’RE READY!” Sam practically fell into your apartment, Nate following him in and quickly getting dressed. “Kat is going to meet us there.” He looked hilarious. He was dressed and had his backpack on, but his hair was sticking up all over the place and you’d never seen his eyes open so wide.

You chuckled. “Thank you, Sam.”

“Sam, grab the black bag by the couch and I’ll make sure she gets downstairs safe.” Colby said, remembering that you had packed an emergency bag for when this happened.

When you finally made it to the hospital and got checked into a room, Colby took a minute to text the appropriate people. Neither of your parents lived in California, so he sent them messages saying that he’d keep them updated. Letting them know that if they wanted to fly out that they’d have a place to stay between yours and Sam’s apartments. He then text the group chat with your friends. Colby had named the group chat “Misfit Island” like the old claymation Christmas movie. Your friends were definitely family, and everyone had insisted he text the gc when your water broke.

The first to show up was Kat. She had walked in with coffee for Sam and Nate and a Red Bull for Colby.

“How are you doing?” she asked, leaning down to hug you the best she could.

“So far so good.” You answered, smiling up at her.

Next to make appearances were Mike and Kevin. Mike wasn’t wearing shoes and Kevin wasn’t wearing pants. They were bickering about who looked dumber in front of the hot nurse at the welcome station when they walked in the room.

“I think you both look equally crazy.” You said, laughing at the two disheveled boys.

“Who leaves the house without shoes?” Kevin teased Mike, sitting in a chair next to Colby and throwing his arm around him.

“I was in a hurry!” Mike laughed, leaning down to kiss your forehead. “Hanging in there, mamas?” he asked, squeezing your hand.

“I am.” You smiled. “I think I panicked more than Colby did, though.”

Kevin shook Colby a bit with the arm he had around his shoulders. “My man stayin’ strong for his woman.”

Colby smiled over at you and then looked between Mike and Kevin. “Kevin, how did you remember to put socks and shoes on, but not pants?” He laughed, looking down at the baggy orange boxers Kevin was sporting.

“See!” Mike joined in.

At first you didn’t know if you wanted your friends to be hanging around during this whole process, but 30 seconds of Mike and Kevin bickering made you grateful Colby decided to text them. The rest of your friend group showed up throughout the day. You ended up being in labor for HOURS, but Colby never left your side.

Since you had about 15 people taking up space in the waiting room, the hospital opened up another sitting room for your group. This is when Sam busted out his camera. He set the camera up on a little shelf in the corner and told everyone in the group to take turns recording themselves. He wanted to make a video for your kid to watch when he was old enough to understand and appreciate it. He wanted to capture all of the anticipation and joy and love that your child was bringing to the group.

One by one, everyone in the group recorded themselves talking to your soon-to-be-born baby.

Kat’s was sweet. “You’re the first to make one of us a parent.” She had said, a huge grin on her face. “I know your parents can’t wait to meet you, but after them there’s a long line of people just waiting to love on the newest little member of our family.” She blew a kiss to the camera and ended her recording.

Corey’s was funny. “When your mom starts scolding you for making fart jokes at the dinner table, just blame me. She’ll believe you.” Corey had laughed, his energetic expression slowly being replaced by a softer serious one. “I know I’m a goofball and I hope that I get to be in your life enough that you know it too…I don’t take a lot of things seriously, but I swear on my life you can always come to me. For a laugh, for advice…Doesn’t matter. Your parents have been there for me more than most people know. They’re family. That means you’re family.” He smiled at the camera, taking a deep breath and ending his recording.

Aryia’s was thoughtful. “I didn’t realize I was really growing up until your dad busted ass running through our house with a pregnancy test in his hand. He was so happy, man. He couldn’t shut up about you.” He smiled but looked terrified. “Seeing Colby so confident that you were going to be the biggest blessing in his life made me start to think about what I want out of life and honestly? That scares the shit out of me.” Aryia said, shaking his head. “Oh, shit. I mean, crap. Ah, whatever. You’ve probably got a swear jar for me by the time you actually see this video.” He laughed. “What makes thinking about the future not so scary is knowing that your mom and your dad and all of our friends…they’ve got my back. They’re the best friends I’ve ever had. We’re like a big family…and soon we’ll be welcoming you into it.” Aryia threw up his usual peace sign and ended the recording.

Kevin’s was cheerful. “This is a beautiful day, kid. It feels like every time I turn around, someone I love is doing something new and amazing…but I think this blows most of those out of the water. You’ve got some cool aunts and uncles in this room right now. You’re going to grow up with rock stars and poets and comedians…” Kevin paused when everyone busted up laughing at something Corey had done. “See? We’re lucky to have each other. There’s a lot of love in this room, kid. You’re gonna grow up with the coolest family around.” He turned to snark back at something someone else said and ended his recording.

Jake’s was goofy. “For some reason recording this makes me nervous.” Jake laughed. “I know I’m weird and I make dumb jokes and I’ve probably still got weird hair whenever you’re watching this…but I’m calling it now, I’m going to be the fun uncle. I buy the best snacks and there’s cartoons constantly playing on my tv.” He continued to list reasons why he was going to make a great uncle. “You know, even though I know I’m gonna be the best, you’ve got a lot of people here that are pretty cool too.” He laughed. “And you’re all they’ve been able to talk about for like 2 whole months. Everyone keeps telling Colby his life is about to change, but really…I think you’re gonna change all of our lives when you join the family.” Jake waved like a little kid and ended his recording.

Mike’s was honest. “You know, life isn’t always going to be perfect. It’s tough. You’re going to go through some stuff that you won’t want to talk about or ask for help with.” Mike took a moment to think. “I’ve been there, little man. Your dad pulled me out of a pretty dark place in my life. I’ve had a lot of crappy friends and your dad came along and reminded me that there are still great fricken people in the world. You’ve got amazing people for parents. I know it’s not always cool to go to your parents for advice, but they’re always going to be there for you. And for those times when you need someone else…we’re all here for you. We’ve literally been sitting in this room all day just waiting for you to show up. The nurse even put a sign on the door that says, “Brock Family”. That’s us. We’re really excited to meet you.” Mike made a heart with his hands before ending his recording.

Nate’s was deep. He stared at the camera for almost a minute before he said anything. “I’m inclined to believe that life is what we make it. I’m not a big believer in fate. I never really had a reason to believe in anything but the here and the now…” He looked away from the camera for a few seconds. “See, I always had this idea in my head that we just bump into people as we walk through life and that sometimes it sticks and they stay, and other times it doesn’t and you move on. Consequence be damned. But I’ve gotten to know your mom pretty damn well over the last month. I’ve known your dad nearly my entire life. He’s probably the best friend I’ve ever had…but your mom? Your mom isn’t afraid of anything or anyone. Your mom is smart and kind and she’s got a knack for knowing when you’re full of shit so good luck with that as you grow up.” He laughed. “Your mom changed your dad’s life. Your mom has changed pretty much everyone in this room in one way or another. There’s nothing coincidental about her walking into your dad’s life. It’s not happenstance that the people here in this hospital waiting for you all found each other. That’s fate, baby. I think you drew the winning cosmic lottery ticket, because you’ve got quite the family waiting for you.” Nate smiled at the camera for a few seconds before standing and ending his recording.

Lastly, Sam sat and started talking. “Hey, little Brock. I don’t know what else to call you yet because your parents won’t tell anyone what they’re going to name you.” Sam laughed. “That felt crazy to say. At some point today my best friends are going to become parents.” He shook his head, a huge grin on his face. Sam waved at the camera. “I’m Sam…but by the time your parents decide to show you this video, you’ll already know that. I hope that by the time you see this that you’ve decided I’m your favorite uncle. I know Gage is awesome and all, but your dad and me…we took on the world, kid. We’ve done some crazy stuff together. I can’t wait to tell you the stories. I’ll tell them as many times as you want, I promise. Your dad is more than my best friend, he’s my brother. He’s the best person I know. Period. And your mom is the best thing that ever happened to him…I need you to know that I’m always going to be there for you guys. You and your mom and your dad. You haven’t even been born yet and I know I love you.” Sam looked away from the camera for a moment to wipe his eyes, trying not to full-on cry. He turned the camera to catch all of your friends just hanging out, laughing in the room. “You see these guys?” Sam pointed over his shoulder. “You’re going to grow up surrounded by more love than I think you’re going to know what to do with. Your dad and I spent a lot of time weeding out a lot of crappy friends over the years, but I think we’ve got it narrowed down to the best at this point.” He smiled at the camera. “See, I believe that you pick your family. It doesn’t matter if they’re blood related or not…”

The door to the waiting room flew open and an emotional Colby ran in wearing a doctor’s gown over his clothes. “He’s here.” He said, practically shaking. “They said he’s healthy and that everything went smoothly. They’re getting Y/n moved back to her room and they’re going to bring him to us in a minute.” He ran back out of the room. Cheers could he heard from everyone in the room.

Sam leaned back down to look into the camera that was still recording. “Welcome to the family.” He said, ending his recording.

#colby brock #Colby Brock x Reader #colby brock imagine #colby brock oneshot #colby brock fluff

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spidercakes · 5 years ago

Text

Part One | Part Two | Part Three | Part Four

Warnings: Peter is underaged (17), mentions of abusive relationships/ abuse, feminization (Peter).

Peter looks at his phone because Quentin won’t stop textinghim and this is getting annoying. Its been like four months, he didn’t think he’d have to tell him to take a damn hint given that his lack of response to anything Quent has done in that time frame should be clear enough. Of course its not, why would that be enough for Quent to fuck off? He’s never been good at taking a hint. Liz looks worried and he’s pretty sure Ned has drawn up actual murder plans not that he’d ever follow through and Peter’s mostly just annoyed with this.

“Maybe you should like… talk to someone about that,” Liz says and Peter shakes his head.

“Cops can’t actually do anything unless he hurts me so what’s the point?” Its not like he hasn’t looked it up and he doesn’t really have much faith in police anyway, they kind of suck at any kind of omega relations. And also relations with most other groups but that’s a whole other thing.

Liz goes to open her mouth to speak but MJ cuts her off. “He’s right, best he can get is a retraining order and you think Quentin’s going to listen to a piece of paper? Probably not,” she says.

“Well I don’t think he should do nothing, he keeps following Peter around like a lost dog,” she says.

“He stopped following me home after May yelled at him so there’s that,” Peter says hopefully. MJ looks vaguely disgusted and Liz doesn’t look less worried.

“Maybe May should yell at the school to do something too,” Ned says. “I miss having normal Quentin free lunch breaks.”

Peter frowns, “you haven’t had Quentin free lunch breaks since like, last year.” When they started dating, really. And at first it was nice that Quent wanted to spend time with him, but then it got annoying because Quent wouldn’t leave him alone about where he was every god damn hour of the day he wasn’twith him. That’d been weird with Tony, who really only seems to ask if he wants to know more about Peter’s day. Which he actually asks about because he isn’t a jackass.

“Yeah, exactly. He’s like a barnacle and it’s the worst,” Ned says.

Peter’s phone buzzes again and he gives it an annoyed huff. “I swear to godif that’s Quent,” he mumbles, picking it up and finding a text from Tony. Predictably like seven more come in right after each other because he had a bad habit of not sticking what he wants to say in one message. He claims it ruins the dramatic effect.

Lol saw your ex

Told him he looked like compliments Jake Gyllenhaal

He was PISSED

Tried to claim you were cheating on me

Which is ridiculous

But also his proof was worse lmao

I was literally with you the day he chose

And also the picture he tried to pass off as evidence was old

Does he think I’m stupid?

No, he doesn’t think Tony is stupid he thinks everyone else is as much of a reactive dickhead as him. Still though, Peter’s stomach squeezes because he knowshe kind of cheated on Quent a little bit. A couple of pictures isn’t much but its still something so he figures he’s given Tony a reason to be suspicious.

I’m not cheating on youhe sends back, hoping that Tony believes him because he’s not, he wouldn’t. Tony is… well, soft, compassionate, smart, funny, and Peter likes the way he feels when he’s with Tony. Like he’s the most special person on the planet. Tony always gives him these looks, and he’s always giving him these small touches like he can’t stand to be away for too long, and he always compliments Peter’s outfits. And he knows Tony keeps his pictures too and not just because he thinks they’re sexy, he actually pays attention to the composition and Peter likesthat Tony actually cares about things that are important to him. Ned tells him that’s normal stuff and MJ told him that he should have higher standards than that. They’re not wrongbut Peter hasn’t had anything like that before so its nice, compared to Quent.

His phone buzzes and thankfully its Tony again.

Lol yeah I know

You wouldn’t do that

Also Rhodey has banned me from sexiling him again

So I guess we need to follow his schedule

I don’t like when he whines and cries

Its annoying

And a little sad

Peter snorts, shaking his head. On one hand he feels bad for accidentally forcing Rhodey out of his shared space with Tony but on the other hand he honestly can’t believe Tony has such a hard time remembering Rhodey’s schedule. For a genius he’s got the memory of a sieve.

“If we just throat punched Quentin this wouldn’t be a problem,” MJ says, drawing him back into the conversation with his friends.

“We’re not throat punching Quentin, MJ, we’ll go to jail,” Peter says.

Liz snorts, “not, we’llgo to jail. You’ll be a cute little white omega waif the judge lets off with a slap on the wrist and I don’t think throat punching Quentin will solve anything but it would make us all feel better. Take one for the team, Parker,” she tells him and he can’t believe Lizsaid that. It’s the kind of thing he expects out of MJ for sure but Liz is the normal one, the voice of reason, the one who points out when they’re all acting like fools. And Quentin has pissed heroff enough to want him to get punched in the throat.

“You gunna punch him or not?” MJ asks.

“Can I film it?” Ned adds, leaning forward in interest.

“We’re not throat punching Quent guys, he’ll get bored and move on,” Peter tells them. “Hopefully anyway because now apparently he’s trying to convince Tony I’m cheating on him,” he mumbles, sulking.

Liz looks like someone has just slapped a puppy, Ned rolls his eyes so hard it’s a wonder they don’t roll out of his head and out the door, and MJ looks more annoyed. “Throat. Punch,” she says with emphasis.

Tony doesn’t really gethow he got so lucky considering Peter came out of literally nowhere but he’s also not complaining when he’s got Peter in his arms kissing him like that. Godhis ex is such an idiot and not just because of all the sketchy shit he does either, he’s stupid for giving Peter up let alone all his other kind of fucked up behaviors. Peter pulls away and Tony pulls him back, giving him a soft kiss before letting him pull away again. Peter’s cheeks are a little red and he’s grinning wide, “godI missed you,” he murmurs.

He tightens his arms around Tony’s neck as he pulls Peter closer. He’s got one hand settled on the back of Peter’s thigh toying with the garter belt he finds there and the other on Peter’s ass because fuck being appropriate. “Missed you too,” he murmurs, leaning back in and kissing him again.

“Yeah, as adorable as you two are can you not look so ridiculously lewd on fancy cars?” someone asks and Tony pulls away to find MJ standing there looking as unimpressed as usual.

He grins, “you’re just mad its not yourcar,” he says because he knows she has a thing for fancy sports cars. She denies it but she knows too much about them to have a passing interest.

“Uh huh. Mind giving me a ride home, I missed the bus because Liz is a hoe and I had to win that bet,” she says.

“Sure. We can try and convince Peter there’s value to movies that aren’t animated,” he says and she tries her best, she does, but she can’t help the loud snort she lets out.

“Oh that is a losing battle but you bet your ass I’m going to try anyway. What’s first on your list?” she asks.

“Don’t judge me, but V for Vendetta but not the way fuckboys think its good,” he says, trying and he thinks mostly succeeding in abating her fears about him being one of those jackasses who apparently missed the point of the movie.

She nods, “not a bad choice. I was thinking Sorry To Bother You,” she says.

Tony wrinkles his nose, “aw come on, give him something normal before you jump in with capitalism criticizing sci-fi flicks, we gotta ease him into it, not scare him back to Snow fucking White.” Not that he doesn’t appreciate a good Disney film but damn, thatone? He’d been happy when Ned and Liz started ripping on Peter about it first so he didn’t feel bad in affirming that his friends have better taste than he does.

“I watch live action guys, I like Star Wars and like, a couple other things,” Peter says in his defense.

MJ shakes her head, “sometimes I think he’s got more beauty than brains,” she says.

“Oh, he’s definitely got brains but he selectively uses them,” Tony says. Something in that must appease her because she nods to herself before pulling her backpack off her shoulder.

“So, can I drive?” she asks and Tony snorts.

“Absolutely not.” It’s athingwith him and Peter knows its because his parents died in a car accident but its not exactly something he advertises.

MJ looks disappointed, “and here I was, ready to approve of you,” she says and he thinksshe’s joking so he looks at Peter. He looks amused so she must be but that’s not what really catches his attention.

“You painted your nails,” he says, looking at the dark red nail polish Peter had chosen. Not his favorite shade of red but it does look nice against Peter’s pale skin.

He looks down at them and then to Tony before he grins and Tony already regrets mentioning it because Peter has a habit of being a total tease, not that Tony would ever call him that. Turns out that’s yet another thing his shitty ex did, except Tony doesn’t actually mind the teasing, he just pretends to be put out about it.

Peter has discovered that Tony has a thingfor Peter in his lap in any capacity but he seemed to take a special kind of delight in the way Peter straddles him now, body weight pinning him down as he kisses Tony feverishly. Its not just that he’s had a shit day, and its not just that May won’t be home for another two hours, its also that Tony responds so damn well and Peter likesfeeling wanted. He feels like its been forever and Tony is never short on any kind of praise so Peter soaks it up as he presses Tony into his mattress.

“So pretty,” Tony murmurs into his mouth, “gorgeous.” Peter smiles as he noses at Tony’s jawline, not pushing his limits but Tony tilts his head to the side a little so he considers it. The last time he tried anything like this it was with Quent, who hadn’t taken at allkindly to Peter trying to scent him. Didn’t seem to stop him from expecting Peterto be fine with being scented, but he doesn’t really want to repeat the scene. But Tony isn’t Quent either, and hedidtilt his head a little, almost like a silent invitation and Peter has always wanted to do this. Well, maybe not alwaysbut since he figured out what scenting wasanyway. Even if apparently omegas aren’t supposed to be interested in that type of thing. Which he thinks is total bullshit but whatever.

After a few moments of deliberation he noses the space just under Tony’s jaw, testing his limits. Tony tilts his head further to the side as his breath hitches up and Peter lets out a soft moan at Tony’s pliability. This time he doesn’t hesitate as he kisses his way down Tony’s neck, gasping a little when Tony moans loudly, arching into Peter as he slips a hand up his skirt, grabbing his ass tightly. “You like this?” Peter murmurs, nipping at Tony’s neck and he shivers at that too. It gives Peter a little thrill, the almost role reversal in the action, and he finds that he likes it, likes Tony under him with his neck bared panting as Peter scents him.

“Yes,” Tony tells him, near whining when Peter pulls away some. “Peter,” he says, dark eyes almost pleading and Peter grins, shifting on Tony’s lap just a little so he can watch the way his head tilts back a little as his mouth falls open. “Peter,” he says again, with more meaning this time.

“Yeah?” Peter asks, lips barely brushing over Tony’s. Tony tries to press into it but Peter is already gone. He lets out a soft sigh of disappointment at the loss and pouts. Tony looks adorable when he pouts.

“Kiss me,” Tony tells him, unafraid to ask for what he wants.

Peter sits back in his lap, hands on Tony’s chest and he likes the way that looks, his pale hands against Tony’s dark shirt with the dark red of his nails to break it up a little. It’s a pretty picture. The hand Tony has on his ass squeezes a little as the other comes to settle on his thigh. “Baby,” Tony murmurs, going back to pouting. He trails his fingers up Tony’s arm, covering the hand he’s got on Peter’s thigh with his own.

“You want me to kiss you?” he murmurs, weaving their fingers together.

Tony nods, “yeah baby, I want you to kiss me,” he says softly. “Scent me, tell me I’m yours,” he adds and Peter bites his lip hard to hold in his moan.

He leans forward again, taking Tony’s hand with him and pinning it over his head. Tony lets out a sharp gasp as his hips tilt up a little so Peter figures he can safely assume Tony likes that. He looks down at Tony for a moment, leaning in close before pulling away at the last second as inspiration strikes. He presses forward, putting more of his weight into pinning Tony’s wrist. “You want all that, hmm?” Peter murmurs and Tony nods. “Then beg for it,” Peter tells him, almost willing to ignore his own request because Tony looks so damn hot like this, spread out under him with Peter pinning him down.

“Please baby, want you to kiss me you’re so god damn stunning. Want you all over me, please,” Tony says, arching into him again and Peter kisses him hard, moaning into it becausewowthat’s hot and he didn’t expect the sharp flush of arousal at that and he wants to fuck Tony nowbut he thinks he might be able to get a little more fun out of him first, even if the rest of him is ready to go.

He pulls away again and Tony straight up whines. Peter bites his lip again because its hot, watching Tony whine for him, wanting him thatbad. He’s about to open his mouth when the door to his room bursts open and he jumps. Underneath him Tony does too, clearly as surprised as he is but he doesn’t quite think anyone is as surprised as May.

“Get your hand out of my nephew’s skirt!” she tells Tony, who promptly pulls his hand away in horror. She turns to face him and Peter is sure he’s a shade of red no human was meant to be. “Peter, what the fuck?”

#tony stark x peter parker #starker #alternate universe #fanfiction #alpha beta omega

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roscoe-me-and-this-fuckin-kid · 5 years ago

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My Ryden Recs

not in any particular order

The Heart Rate of a Mouse Series (11/10)

~513k words

Ryan "Heterosexual" Ross and his incredibly popular prog rock band, The Followers, start their summer tour for their new hit album "Boneless" in June of 1974. However, Ryan begins to take a shine to their new roadie, the ever mysterious Brendon No-Last-Name-Given, who dodges questions about his past and flaunts his flamboyant homosexuality. After an assault by a member of the supporting act, Brendon and Ryan get their payback, and begin to bond. But much to Ryan's confusion and alarm, he starts to want something he can't let himself have, starts to feel something he can't let himself feel.

--Okay I kinda lied. This list is in no particular order EXCEPT for this one. This one is the best. Anna Green owns my ass. I'm not someone who's picky about first vs third person, but if you are, then just this once throw that out the window and read this utter masterpiece. Ryan's character development throughout is so touching, but my god he fucks up a lot. One of my friends who has gone through the process of buying the physical copies and annotating them says that Ryan majorly fucks up over 50 times. Emotional rollercoaster straight ahead!--

Freaks (7/10)

~45k words

Ryan's face was permanently disfigured when he was 12 years old, and since then, the only person who has ever stood by his side is his best friend Spencer. After earning the nickname "Freak" in high school, he finally accepts that nobody will ever want him, or ever treat him normally again. But after an accident that lands him temporarily in the hospital, he meets Brendon. They get along great, and Ryan begins to fall in love. One small problem though:

Brendon had been recently blinded. Neither of them know if it's permanent, and Ryan is sure that if Brendon knew about his face, he would leave him forever.

--I really liked this one. It makes you sit on edge and every single time you think that Ryan will finally confess and tell the truth, he blue balls you like an asshole. This story is so sad and so sweet, I definitely recommend. Also, there's some background Joncer, which is really cute. Definitely a worthy read if you're looking for some angsty fluff. Oh, and a little aside: the author, spazzyskittles on LJ, actually beta-ed a lot of Anna Green's Ryden fics, including THROAM! So do with that what you will ;)--

The Red Eyed Owl Series (10/10)

~403k words

As one of the best players of one of the best National Hockey League teams, the Chicago Hounds, Ryan Ross has everything he could ever want. Young, famous, and free to do whatever he damn well pleases, the world either wants him or wants to be him. But after a leg injury that could potentially ruin his career, Ryan begins to realise that perhaps he doesn't have everything. Perhaps some things can mean so much more than women throwing themselves at you every chance they get and receiving bottomless drinks at sports bars. Perhaps he could fall in love.

--This was actually recommended to me by @wandering-verses and it was 100% worth the read. I broke out crying in the middle of class during the second book, and I cried again at 3 am when I stayed up all night to finish it. It's one of those that fucks you up so bad that you can't read anything else for a little while after finishing. Now, both the authors are from Spain, so English isn't their native tongue, but it's so well written that I probably wouldn't have noticed if I hadn't read the notes at the very beginning. An all time Ryden fave.--

Missing In Action (10/10)

~204k words

In where the American Civil War goes differently, the nation once known as the United States of America is instead separated into two: DURA and Beauregia. The latter didn't change much in terms of their economy. Slavery is still legal, and the kingdom is ruled under a tight, Christian monarchy. Their king is Boyd Beauregard. His only son, crown Prince Brendon Beauregard, heir to the throne, resides in the highly respected Saint Francis' Academy. DURA on the other hand developed quickly, a democracy founded on new technology and equitable ideals.

Everyday, bipartisanship seems farther away from grasp, and DURA, realising that cooperation is impossible, creates the DURA investigative bureau. Identifying the crown prince as the Royal Family's weakest link, they realise that he could become an infinitely invaluable asset to them. Agent Ross, under the pseudonym "Ryan Hastings", is chosen to go undercover, enroll in Saint Francis' boarding school, infiltrate the Prince's friend group, and gain his trust by any means necessary.

--I'm ashamed to admit that I let this one pass me by for a while. I read the words "American Civil War" and I automatically assumed that this would be a mid 1800's Civil War fic about closeted gay soilders, and I'm not against that, but the premise didn't really interest me. But once I finally caved and started reading, I quickly realised not only was the premise entirely different, but it was really fuckin' good. Read this!!!!--

Esoteric Contagion (8/10)

~18k words

He wakes up with a note stuck to his forehead that reads, “You traded your memory in a spell. It was worth it.” The note is signed George Ross. He wonders if that’s his name.

In which things are lost and gained and remembered and forgotten, in that order.

--Despite being the shortest on this list, I loved it to death. You will cry so hard, I promise. This story is so sad. The author can deal so many shocking blows in less than 20,000 words, and you will be completely invested. I don't want to spoil anything, but it's massively underrated, and it will fuck you up.--

Two Vatos Locos Series (7/10)

~311k words

When you have your first dream with your soulmate, everything changes. But after years and years of watching all his friends have their dreams and fall in love, Ryan started to wonder if he would ever has his dream. At twenty, Ryan started to get desperate. He went to doctors, therapists, even a fucking palm reader. No one could tell him what was wrong with him. There was only one explanation: his soulmate had to be dead.

Ryan spent endless hours laying in bed, staring at the ceiling, begging, wishing, praying to have his dream and meet his soulmate. One day, with blood gushing down his face and vomit coating his tongue, his prayers were finally answered.

And now, as he stares at this scared, helpless boy, with bloodied rope burns around his wrists and tears staining his cheeks, he wishes that they never were.

--The title "Dos Vatos Locos Lleno de Carnalismo y Inamorates" roughly translates to "Two Crazy Dudes Full of Carnality and Infatuation," which is definitely accurate. I did enjoy this fic; it was cute, sad, and very interesting, but if you are interested in reading, you will need to be patient at times. Some passages seem like filler and the writing in a few places is kinda dry or cringey. But it's still overall a good story though. WARNING: Brendon is underage for most of this fic, but nothing sexual happens until he is of age.--

The Way Home From Nowhere Series (9/10)

~158k words

After his parents find out about his relationship with another boy, Brendon Urie makes a snap decision to flee from his abusive home. After a quick makeover to hide his identity, he decides to thumb a ride. He starts living the life he never even dreamed he could. Talking openly about things like sex, condoms, and homosexuality- he's happier then he's ever been.

There's one problem though.

His new roommates, Ryan and Spencer, have no idea that he is the missing Mormon boy from the nearby town of Summerlin.

--Ladies and gents, welcome to my first ever Ryden fic! This will always be a favourite of mine. Both Brendon's arc and Ryan's are are so heartbreaking, and there were so many times that I wanted to reach into the story and give Dallon a hug. So many tragedies in this story, and not all of them solved. I don't have any empathy for Brendon's parents in this story, but I feel so hard for his siblings, and for Marc. I just wish they knew. This story is so heartbreaking and yet so happy. Will play with your emotions like they're a shiny new toy.--

Filthy Lucre (10/10)

~362k words

Ryan Ross is living the American wet dream. He’s rich, he’s good looking, he gets paid just to turn up at parties and he spends his days drinking, doing drugs and climbing into bed with eager and willing boys and girls. His parents and PA beg him to quit, and his brother turns up his noise at his destructive lifestyle, but Ryan is desperate to sink into the void, escape the memories of what his father's friend did to him when he was fifteen.

Brendon Urie is a man bordering on desperation. He whores himself out to millionaire bankers and CEOs to fund his boyfriend's heroin addiction and pay off his ungrateful father's medical bills. Things could be worse, though. He's lucky enough to have a roof over his head, to be living with the love of his life, to no longer have to hook on the street, but instead be privileged enough to turn tricks in the wealthy circles of Wall Street and Goldman Sachs.

Where a broken boy meets another broken boy, and falls in love.

--Normally, I would never recommend an unfinished fic, let alone fic that hasn't been updated in four years, unless it was it was so good and so engaging that it made me literally scream. Trust me when I say that you have not experienced true hatred until you read this fic. I have literally never hated a character more in my entire life, and I know who Dolores Umbridge is, for reference. The best thing about this fic, in my opinion, is that the characters, whether good guys or bad guys, do evil. And they do it on purpose. Because the characters feel and act as though they're real, and real people fucking suck.--

The Black Rose Season (8/10)

~158k words

Ryan Ross' life is essentially over when his scholarship is inexplicably cancelled and he will be forced to pay his way through school. As a young, broke college student, Ryan is desperate to find cash fast, but to no avail. Just when he thinks all hope is lost, a mysterious benefactor promises to pay his tuition in full, on one condition: Ryan is infiltrate Sigma Chi Beta, the most prestigious and cultish fraternity that Swan University has to offer. And if, by some miracle, Ryan succeeds, his mission is clear:

Befriend Brendon Urie, fellow Swan Sigma, and, more importantly, alleged leader of Sigma Chi Beta's secret society, which might not even exist. He is to document his findings, and send them to his benefactor. One small problem though: Brendon fucking hates his guts.

--Did I mention that Anna Green owns my ass? Because Anna Green owns my ass. This one is so fleshed out, and there are some moments where it really spikes you in the chest. Every time that Patrick comes onto the page, my interest piques, and I remember That One Scene™ that completely changed my perspective of him (You'll understand once you read). Besides... college AU? Secret societies? Betrayal? Enemies to lovers? Sexual tension? Need I say more?--

I have more fics to recommend if you guys like this list, so tell me if you want more fic recs

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chcfasher · 5 years ago

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okay i am so excited to get to plotting & interacting with all u cuties ! bare with me though , im also trying to study for a quiz i gotta take later tonight . anyways , i’m mia aka your resident masshole reporting for duty . i’m 20 years old ... will be 21 in june ( fingers crossed my Sad ass will be out of q*arentine by then ) . i go by she / her / dumb bitch pronouns & am very much so done talking about myself already . so lets get to my boy asher here who is ... how do you say ? a asshole ? a dirt bag ? a soft baby boi ? if you wanna plot & discord is easier for you shoot me a mssg @ 𝖒𝖌𝖐'𝖘 𝖜𝖍𝖔𝖗𝖊#9789 . lets goooo 💛

𝐆𝐄𝐍𝐄𝐑𝐀𝐋 𝐃𝐄𝐓𝐀𝐈𝐋𝐒

full name: asher james bennett nickname: ash , aj birthday: march 25 , 1996 zodiac: aries hometown: madison , wisconsin ( click here to see his parents house / childhood home ) current residence: los angeles , california ( although he lives in the villa with everyone , before the year away he lived on his own & still owns the home , both because he loves the place and because it gives his family somewhere to go when they come out click here to see his house ) vehicle: 2017 jeep wrangler rubicon in black ( click here ) , 2019 maserati granturismo in red ( click here ) gender: cismale orientation: heterosexual , heteromantic relationship status: single ( it’s complicated ) family: tamara marie bennett-abbott ( mother ) , harrison charles bennett ( father , deceased ) , mason billings abbott ( stepfather ) , bradford sawyer abbott ( brother ) , stephanie anne bennett ( sister ) education: vocational highschool graduating from the culinary program , graduated ucla with a bachelor in management with a minor in food studies occupation: celebrity chef , tv personality net worth: 19.7m height: 5′11″ weight: 161lbs tattoos: left arm ( x , x ) , right arm ( x , x , plus the butterfly tattoo jack has ) , right hand ( x ) , right thigh ( x ) , left leg ( x ) criminal record: arrested ( x6 ) - simple assault ( x2 ) , assault and battery ( x1 ) , disorderly conduct ( x2 ) , criminal mischief ( x1 ) , criminal trespassing ( x2 ) , minor in possession of alcohol ( x2 ) , drug possession ( x1 ) drugs / alochol / smoking: yes , mostly marijuana though / yes / no moral alignment: chaotic neutral hogwarts house: slytherin theme song: righteous by juice wrld ( a look at his mental health and the way it he attempts to cope ) & i am by james arthur ( deep dives into his view on himself and how outside opinions of him have effected the way he sees himself ) & empty space by james arthur ( instead of being about a girl this really encapsulates how the loss of his father has affected his life ) traits: charismatic , well-intentioned , affectionate , loyal , jocular , reckless , immature , flippant , short-tempered label: politicians son , miscreant , fuck boy , broken bird , mr. misunderstood , mama’s boy , epicure hidden talents: drawing , singing , master at rubiks cube , skilled card counter ( blackjack )

𝐁𝐀𝐂𝐊𝐆𝐑𝐎𝐔𝐍𝐃

asher was born just eleven months after his sister stephanie , to at the time lobbyist harrison bennett & prosecutor tamara bennett . a menace as a child , he made dennis the menace look like a saint , basically . at first his parents hoped this was simply just a phase but as time went on it became very clear that if it were a phase it was going on for much longer than his parents had hoped . his sister immediately taking on the spot of prodigal daughter , while asher took on the spot of black sheep of the family . this didn’t mean that his parents didn’t absolutely adore both of their children , because they did . both taking on daddy’s little girl & mama’s boy respectively , early on .

around the time asher was seven both of his parents were up for office , his mother for district attorney & his father for u.s representative from wisconsin . the influx of cameras / eyes on the bennett family mixed with the level of stress both his parents were under completely put asher off from the world of politics . despite being in a family that had generational ties to politics on both sides . during a family appearance asher was captured on camera ( both video & photo ) putting up a piece sign behind his sisters head during a speech his father was giving .

[ tw: death , suicide , loss of a parent ] when asher was twelve his father went on a boating trip with friend , call it a boys trip if you will . two days into the trip news broke of his father being in a major boating accident where harrison was the only one on the boat & was dead upon being found . it later was confirmed by the coroner that his death was likely a suicide . the loss of harrison was hard on the entire family , it was easy to say it affected asher heavily having locked himself away in his bedroom for nearly a week only leaving his room to go to the bathroom & grab food that he’d return to his room to eat . later , when he returned to school he was suspended just in that school year three times . it was genuinely the beginning to the incredibly reckless version of asher , that we seen since .

despite his antics he played varsity football as a cornerback & varsity soccer as a midfielder . taking up sports at an early age , it was clear he was a born athlete who genuinely enjoyed a little competition . he also took an interest in culinary , he was very much so that kid standing on a step stool as he helped his parents in the kitchen . this interest turned into him attending a vocational / trade highschool instead of an ordinary public school , like he had in elementary & middle .

when he was fifteen he started a youtube channel where he posted cook with me videos weekly & vlogged his experience within the culinary program at school .

during highschool his mom started getting serious with a professor at the local university . asher , of course , hated the idea of his mom replacing his dad and it took nearly two years & an engagement for him to actually sit down & listen to his mom about the situation . it wasn’t until then that he realized , mason , was supposed to replace his father ... it was simply his mom not allowing herself to get stuck in one place in life & fall into a spiral . once he actually heard her side he gave the guy a chance . turns out the two have alot in common & get along very well . he’ll never replace his father but he respects him none the less .

before he’d even graduated highschool , asher amassed over 1m subscribers , made appearances on the ellen degeneres show & rachel ray show . this was around the time he realized he wanted to turn his hobby into something more than that & hell he was good enough to do so . when graduation came , he’d already committed to attending ucla as a business major with a minor in food studies .

soon after graduation he went on the show master chef , finishing as runner up , which was one hell of a feat given he’d been the youngest chef on the show . he enjoyed the experience & recognition the show gave him .

while at ucla he continued to play football he was so good he was receiving national attention to the point where nfl scouts were looking at him . obviously he was still too young to go into the draft but they let him know , this was something that was more than on the table . it was definitely something he loved hearing but at the end of the day , the nfl was never really the goal for asher . so toward the end of his sophomore season when he was suspended for the rest of the season for getting arrested & charged with drug possession & criminal trespassing he took that as the excuse not to return the sport the following season .

this was not the first time ( we know it was not the last *wink wonk* ) asher was arrested . from the end of his middle school days throughout highschool he’d racked up four arrests . his first one taking place in eighth grade & the only reason the misdemeanor charges actually went through were because his mom asked for them to in hopes that it would scare asher from acting out in such a fashion ever again . unfortunately , his actions were rooted in much more than teen rebellion having never accepting or being able to cope with his father’s passing . the charges & arrests that would follow his mom was able to cover up & kind of bury them . that way word didn’t spread like wildfire about her reckless son .

not even a full year removed from football & he’d accepted a tv show offer from food network . a show called asher’s kitchen a primetime half-hour show where a new chef would come on each week if they beat asher in making a 3-course meal they win bragging rights & $20,000 , if they don’t they go home empty handed . despite the shows constant high ratings asher grew bored of the show & left after only two seasons . the network tried to replace him but quickly learned asher’s personality was what really carried the show .

in 2018 , he went on to open his first ever restaurant the smoking goat an american bistro with an upscale vibe in the heart of los angeles . the place is literally his baby & if you can’t find him you can bet your bottom dollar you’ll find him there . whether it’s catching up with regulars or big name celebrities coming through the doors , or throwing on a chef coat and cooking up some of his very own specials .

around the time of his restaurant opening he started to let up on the youtube channel & it’s now been nearly two years since he’s uploaded & honestly has no intent on returning to the platform . in asher’s eyes , everything has a term limit & his youtube channels time was up .

𝟐𝟎𝟏𝟗 / 𝐑𝐀𝐃𝐈𝐎 𝐒𝐈𝐋𝐄𝐍𝐂𝐄

the timing of his amsterdam arrest was to say the least , horrific . not only was he in talks with several networks ( fox , cbs , netflix , etc ) to have his own daytime food-focused talk show but his mother was at the beginning stages of her 2020 presidential campaign , which she had since put a halt to and decided to continue on with her tenure as a u.s senator from wisconsin . with the headlines of his arrest spreading like wildfire , the internet resurfaced many of his earlier transgressions , the networks inevitably put a halt to going any further in negotiation & the political realm began to turn their attention to the kind of parent the senator was to have a son so ... out of control ? her opposition questioning how she could run a country if she couldn’t so much as raise a law abiding son .

upon his release from jail he took a jet straight home to wisconsin . with the realization of how much harm he’d done to the bennett reputation he made the personal promise to stay away from the media ( no social media , no tv , nothing ) & be the son the political world expected from a politician . his mother ( who is emulated mostly after laura baker from all american ) nearly begged him not to halt his life as a way of personal punishment for his actions . but after months back home & away from the limelight , asher could see the tides turning back in his moms favor & no big network offer ( and there were quite a few that came his way after the news of his arrest subsided ) could pull him back out into the forefront .

instead opening his second restaurant bennett’s , an upscale bar & grill in the capital city of wisconsin . he also began work on a cook book that’s kind of taken on a life of it’s own but he’s yet to be anywhere close to finishing that .

he has inevitably decided to come back & reunite with the bling ring a year later after his family sat him down & kind of had an intervention with him over his persistence to punish himself . claiming they feel he’s matured & gotten a good grasp on himself & that they don’t think he’ll fall into his bad behaviors again . ( spoiler alert: they’re going to be very wrong about this ... just saying / he’s going to return with the intent of being a better guy , being on the “ right track “ but lets be real it’s going to quickly spiral out of control as per usual ) .

𝐏𝐄𝐑𝐒𝐎𝐍𝐀𝐋𝐈𝐓𝐘

as you can probably tell this boy is no good . he’s the guy your parents warn you about , i swear , he will get you into so much trouble & bask in the glory of being the one to give you such an adrenaline rush . he’s big on being here for a good time & not a long time . he just wants to have fun , at any cost . he’s extremely goofy , the kind of guy to whip out some mediocre wrestling moves on you for the sake of getting attention . he doesn’t take much seriously ... until he does ? what im saying is homeboy has one hell of a short temper and once he’s flipped his fuse , he basically blacks out . the reason for this is because no matter how happy & full of life he’d like to come off he has this deep well of anger that swells in him ever since he lost his dad . also a topic that can get him clenching his jaw , do not under any circumstances bring up harrison bennett . very much so a mama’s boy , though , catch him facetiming his mom once a day to tell her how much he loves her & see how she’s doing . he can come off very uncaring at times , it’s easy to say he’s probably one of the most misunderstood people around . he comes off like a douchebag , like someone who has little regard for others & don’t get me wrong he often is both of those things but he isn’t heartless ? when he has time to sit back and think about the damage he does ... it hits him like a mack truck & he goes into a pretty dark place of feeling like he’s a villain but he wants to be the hero of the story ? not very big on apologizing , verbally . if he says sorry you can bet a smug grin is following behind the words . instead he’s big on buying things & even cooking to show he’s sorry . probably not the best way to go about things but this is asher we’re talking about here . he is a flirt & will fuck anything . that’s all i have to say about that . onto his friends ? whew are his friends his world . he is a big proponent of bros before hoes & is an extremely loyal guy - to his friends . a true ride or die type a guy , he’d help he hide a dead body without any explanation at so what happened . a big move now ask questions later kinda dude .

𝐖𝐀𝐍𝐓𝐄𝐃 𝐂𝐎𝐍𝐍𝐄𝐂𝐓𝐈𝐎𝐍𝐒

BREATHE BY JAMES ARTHUR : he has a soft spot for her . he always has . she’s one of the only girls who doesn’t drool over him , they’ve never hooked up to any extent and that’s due in large part to her telling him from the beginning that the only way she’d give him a chance was if he straightened up his act & proved to her that he was worth her time . if there is a girl out there who can asher for the better , it’s her . but everytime she thinks she’s gotten him on the right path , she catches him either acting out or reverting to his fuck boy ways & getting with girl’s who he doesn’t have to put so much work into .

SAME SQUAD BY P-LO : let’s be real these three originated “saturdays are for the boys” . they’ve been boys for as long as they can remember . if you see one of them around you can rest assured the other two are in the vicinity . they’re the best of friends . they know everything there is to know about each other . all a bit reckless , but that’s what makes them such a fun trio . a very homiesexual bond takes place between these three & nothing & nobody could get between them .

CLOSE FRIENDS BY LIL BABY & GUNNA : they were once good friends , things spiraled past the point of their control , lines got blurred & then they were dating . the relationship as a whole was one no one thought would last . to give them credit things were good at first but after he cheated & she found out from a friend about it things started to go down hill . things only got worse when he was persistent in lying to her about the situation . she inevitably took him back & not too much later the arrest in amsterdam happened . before he was even released from jail , she was sent a video of him & one of his friends talking about sleeping with a prostitute . although it never happened the fact that was his intent was enough for her . his expectation was that because she forgave him before she’d wipe away the pain of him once again not having regard for their relationship & forgive him but she just couldn’t . when he came out to her forwarding the video to him , he decided to ignore the situation completely . the two have not had any contact for nearly a year & never really broke up or spoke about the situation .

NO FRAUDS BY NICKI MINAJ & DRAKE & LIL WAYNE : the perfect ride or die squad . the media likes to say someone in the trio is dating at any point in time but , that’s just not the case . these three are always getting into something . the true depiction of always having your friends back . they will lie for each other , fight for each other , anything to prove their loyalty to each other .

i also have some musing posts here , if you want to give that a look !

#𝓲. ‹ 🍾 › 𝓪𝓼𝓱𝓮𝓻 𝓫𝓮𝓷𝓷𝓮𝓽𝓽 ◟ INTRO .#bling:intro

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hdgaywriting · 5 years ago

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Eighth Year - Drarry Fic

Part One:

Harry woke up to the smell of bacon and the soft coos of Pigwidgeon. It had been months now that he could wake up relaxed, easing into the routine of the Weasleys. After all he'd been through, the consistency felt nice. He stretched his arms and rubbed the sleep out of his eyes before putting on his glasses and blinking the world into a sharp image. Glancing around the room, he noticed that Ron was already awake, given his bed was an empty lump of sheets. This was the first time all summer that Ron had gotten up before Harry, and he suspected it was due to the occasion – their return to Hogwarts.

Harry and his best friends had honestly not been anticipating living through the war, but eventually they stopped being able to dodge the question of what comes next. Harry had immediately been offered a job as an auror following Voldemort's downfall, and Ron thought he was going to land some job at the Ministry. It was Hermione that proposed the trio go back to schooling.

"If you think about it, we've only completed six years," she'd said. The two boys, her boys, were still in a post-war stupor then, not willing to dwell on their days at Hogwarts quite yet.

"Hermione," Ron said, through a mouthful of lunch, "we're 18 now. We're too old for Hogwarts. Besides, what can they teach us that we don't already know?"

"Lots of things, Ronald," Hermione said with a stubborn edge in her voice. "After all the insanity that happened, we deserve a chance to be normal students." She looked at Harry for defense, but he was too stunned with the flood of emotion to say anything, so she continued. "Refinement. New spells. New potions. You're never too old to learn. Besides, after Voldemort's downfall, they're bound to teach students differently. The whole curriculum will be different and I don't want to miss out!"

Harry's breath hitched imperceptibly when Hermione said Voldemort's name. Not because he was scared – he hadn't been scared of saying Voldemort's name in years – but because Hermione said it so boldly. In a way, it was comforting. It served as another reminder that he really was gone.

When he looked up, he caught Hermione's gaze. She had a sparkle in her eye talking about Hogwarts and the idea of going back. He mulled over the thought of an eighth year, and after a bit of a back and forth with Ron, they eventually had decided to enroll at Hogwarts one last time.

He walked into the bright kitchen as he did every morning. Ginny walked over to Harry and pecked him on the cheek. "Morning sweetheart," she sang. Ginny was offended when Mr. and Mrs. Weasley had asked her if she'd be returning. She practically yelled that obviously she was, then insisted the conversation end there. That was something that always impressed Harry about his fiery girlfriend – her unabashed way of standing up for herself. It was a skill she grew into over the past few years, and it made Harry's heart skip a beat every time she'd stride over to him and grab him boldly by the shoulders to plant a kiss on his mouth.

Ron was sitting on the counter, leaning his chin onto Hermione's head, who was standing between his legs. His hands carelessly rested at her hip. When Hermione lifted her gaze from the morning's issue of The Daily Prophet, she gave Harry a soft smile.

"Oy, Harry!" Ron exclaimed with a bit of devilish excitement. "We made the paper!"

Harry looked surprise, and grabbed it from Hermione's hands.

"Hey!" she quipped.

"Sorry," Harry muttered as he thumbed through the black and white pages and moving pictures. He came across the article Ron was talking about. Golden Trio Start Final Term at Hogwarts – Again! the paper read. Harry rolled his eyes. He shoved the paper back at Hermione and sat down, not wanting to read what it said. He had hoped that defeating Voldemort would be the end to his fame. He thought he'd be able to settle down with Ginny and live a nice life in peace.

"The Golden Trio," Harry said, "I mean, c'mon." The nickname referred to him, Hermione, and Ron, and was becoming a popular phrase around Britain.

"At least they're finally getting recognition," he heard Ginny lament. And he knew she was right. For so long it had been Harry vs. the world, so some solidarity felt nice.

"It's just cheesy," he said as he chomped on a piece of bacon.

Harry watched different Weasleys float in and out of the kitchen as the morning progressed. He was definitely going to miss it here. The Weasleys were the family he never had but always wanted. The way they absorbed and protected people like him and Hermione was what made them some of his favorite people. All summer he'd gotten to know the eldest Weasley children, too. Bill, and his wife Fleur decided to travel around the world for a while after the Battle of Hogwarts, and in-between each trip they'd spend a couple weeks with their family. Charlie moved back home for a while too, before agreeing (or being bullied into) getting a flat with Percy. But Percy had proved to be so insufferable, that Charlie visited enough to make it seem as if he'd never left. He'd come in, flopping onto the couch and complaining about "our tight-ass prat of a brother, lecturing me about chores and informing me about the inner-workings of the Ministry."

It was hard for Charlie to walk back into life at the Weasleys because he'd been in Romania so long. Charlie was an independent. He refused to be reined in. He wore all black all the time, painted his nails, and sometimes sported a dangly earring. He'd even had a secret tattoo on his back of a dragon breathing fire. It was charmed so that the dragon flew around between his shoulder blades.

But besides the commentary on his style choices, Charlie struggled with Percy's betrayal and Fred's death. They all did, of course, but besides George and Mrs. Weasley, Charlie seemed to have the most grief. He wished he had never gone to Romania, he confessed to Harry one night when he was wine drunk. Harry told him he didn't mean it, but Charlie insisted and tears welled in his eyes. That was the first time Harry had ever thought any boy was pretty. The way the grief bubbled up into his face like a delicate thing Charlie wasn't used to after having spent so long with gritty dragons stood out.

It was with Charlie that Harry opened up to about his nerves returning to Hogwarts. About how sad it made him, in a way. It wasn't the Hogwarts he fell in love with at age 11. This was a post-war Hogwarts, where Dumbledore and Snape and Lupin and Fred would never step foot in again. It's where he faced Voldemort for the last time, and where so many people had died. He wanted so desperately to relive the magic of boating across the lake and McGonagall smiling at him when he'd been sorted Gryffindor. He wanted the stupid late-night adventures with Ron and Hermione. He wanted the Hogwarts that didn't put him in peril.

McGonagall was now the headmaster, and it was she who permitted the Golden Trio to return for a final year. She said it was her duty as an educator to allow them the full extent of a Hogwarts Education, but Harry suspected she'd had a soft spot for them. When Hermione sent her an owl, she'd told McGonagall that the three of them needed accommodations of sorts, since they would not be the typical students. McGonagall's reply came the next day. She was in agreement that matriculation would be different, and that they could expect any resources for maintaining optimal mental health, first pick of class schedule, access to a special dormitory that was being built for eighth year students, and the promise to negotiate any other contingencies. She also offered them enrollment in a new class taught by an incoming professor for those with advanced skill in combative magic and magical defense. She included that what they should NOT expect was leniency in grading, pity, special privileges, or any other pish posh of the sort.

Ron and Harry were immediately thrilled, but Hermione pouted.

"I'm writing back," she had said.

"Why?" Harry questioned as she furiously scribbled with a fresh quill.

"Because I want to be re-instated as Head Girl," Hermione said, "and I want access to the restricted section of the library."

Ron laughed warmly from his chest. "Tell her, love." In the end, Hermione (mostly) got her way. McGonagall said that she could co-Head Girl, but giving her the sole title would be unfair to the incoming student. Additionally, the restricted section of the library would soon be rid of all dangerous dark magic books and then open to all students with approval from the librarian.

It seemed so soon after Harry's discovery of the headline of the news that Mr. and Mrs. Weasley came bustling into the room saying that it was time for them to get going to King's Cross. The lot of them set off in just as much of a messy haste as ever.

Walking into King's Cross was surreal. Arthur and Molly were the first to press through the brick wall to get to Platform 9 and three quarters. Following them was Charlie, followed closely by Percy, then Ron and Hermione. Harry stood with Ginny's hand wrapped in his. He absentmindedly rubbed his thumb against her fingers.

"Ready for the Hogwarts Express?" Ginny said, eyes twinkling. Harry raised her hand to his lips and kissed it before saying of course. Ginny rushed through with zero fear. She disappeared in a flash of red hair.

After Harry dipped through he found the platform to be more familiar than he thought it would be. The dozens of families wrapping their kids in their arms made him smile almost as much as the youngins waving with their heads poking out through the windows. In a way he felt too old to be going back to school, but in a different, more prominent way, he felt the excitement and potential of Hogwarts filling him.

The train was smooth as it started speeding down the tracks. Ginny was waving goodbye to her brothers and parents, and Ron and Hermione were talking in quiet voices. Harry didn't want to interrupt, so he decided after a while to go explore the cabins and search for some familiar faces. Now that he thought about it, he realized all summer he'd just assumed he and his best friends were the only eighth years returning to Hogwarts, but he didn't actually know.

Before long he had traipsed up and down several cabins, seeing nobody from his original class. He was about to give up when a long shimmer of blonde, wavy hair caught his attention. He rushed up to the girl and plopped down in front of her.

"Oh, hello, Harry," Luna said in a sweet voice. "How are you?" She spoke softly just as she always had, like nothing changed.

"I'm fine, Luna, and you?" He paused for a moment before continuing. "It is so good to see you. Hermione and Ron are here as well."

She smiled widely. "That's lovely!" she said. "Are you lot staying in the new dormitory? It's a small one near where the bridge used to be. You know, the one Seamus blew up?" her wide eyes bore into him. Harry had a painful jolt when she talked about the destruction from the Battle of Hogwarts, but nodded and smiled through it.

"Oy, is Neville here?" he said.

"No," Luna said nonchalantly. "He's been given a job at a magical plant greenhouse. He really loves it. He brings my dad and me organic dirigible fruit and all sorts of magical plants to snack on. He says the mulch helps his head stay clear." The way Luna talked was as if she was reporting information. Which made sense, Harry thought, consider her dad was a journalist with his own magazine. "Harry," Luna said, snapping him out of his thoughts, "remember to sweep for nargles. They've really been prominent this year." She flipped her pink and blue glasses down from her forehead and gave him another wide smile.

"Sure thing, Luna" Harry said as he stood up. "We'll get lunch sometime." His mind was still with Luna when he ran into the last person he wanted to see.

Draco Malfoy was staring Harry down.

#drarry fanfiction #drarry #eighth year #hogwarts #harry potter #harry potter fanfiction #nemesis #angst #hermione #romione #ron #weasley #charlie weasley #bill weasley #draco malfoy #hdgayfanfiction #hdgayfanfictionEY

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ephemeral-afterlight · 5 years ago

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Day 27: Ransom

(Protect those you love), prepare to leave it all behind.

Whumptober 2019 Day 27: Ransom

Word Count: 2161

Relationships: Intrulogical

Warnings: Kidnapping, physical violence/weapon (knife), blood and injuries, mentions of torture, threats of non-con to another character, vulgar/explicit language, mentions of drug usage/bad parenting/death of a minor character (not a side), cursing

A/N: hmm... i don't really know what to think of this one, to be honest. it feels weird to write right now, since i'm a bit sick, but i don't know. maybe it's not as awful as it feels like it is. who knows. anyway, have this shit. i'm not really a huge intrulogical shipper, since i don't actually ship remus with anybody (i hc him as aro), but logan fit so here we are.

It’s pretty cold here. Remus knows that being kidnapped and held hostage in a basement however far below the surface isn’t a particularly forgiving situation, but couldn’t his kidnapper give him a blanket or something? It’s too fuckin’ cold for this! And it’s weird, because the guy seems pretty warm himself despite not even wearing a jacket or anything, just a t-shirt, and it makes Remus a little jealous. Remus is always cold, but this place just makes it worse.

He doesn’t even know why he’s here, either. He’s not special, doesn’t stand out, isn’t known for any notable actions or anything. He’s just a simple guy, a dude who lives in a shit apartment and works two jobs in fast food and bartending. He’s pretty common, in society’s eyes, so… why is he here?

The blow to the head had been delivered from behind, just after Remus has gotten into his apartment after work. It came when he least expected it, which is so not fair, because he would have loved to fight the guy. Have a fun old-fashioned full-out brawl in his living room at two in the morning, show him what he’s got. It could have been a fun end to his shitty night, but no, of course the guy had to take the coward’s way out and avoid the fight completely. What a fucking bore.

Now, sitting here tied to this chair in the middle of the room, Remus doesn’t even really feel the pain from the big knot on his head. There’s better things to worry about, like “Am I out of milk?” and “Will I get back in time to catch the season finale of the television show I’ve been following since the premiere?”. Besides, injuries are nothing new to Remus, having grown up playing only contact sports, so a little bonk on the head is nothing compared to the evenings he’d come home from practice or games with welts and bruises littering every inch of his skin. Before she died, his mom would freak out over the blood and cuts on his arms and legs, but then he’d give her a toothy grin with multiple teeth missing from being knocked out, and she’d just shake her head and clean him up. His mom was super cool, before she became a druggie and too busy fucking whoever was closest to come home and take care of her kids.

Anyway, Remus still doesn’t get why he of all people had to have been kidnapped, because it’s not like he’s some important figure or in any sort of position of power. He holds sway exactly Nowhere, and therefore isn’t exactly the ideal choice when stealing someone from their home for your own gain. Whoever this guy is, he’s kind of a dumbass.

“Listen up. You’re gonna sit here, smile into the camera really pretty, and you ain’t sayin’ a word unless I tell you to. Got it?” the guy demands as he sets up a tripod, and Remus just snickers. His kidnapper gives him a withering glare as he settles the camera into the correct spot, and then walk around to the other wide to line the shot up the way he wants it. “What’s so funny?”

“Just wonderin’ what the video’s for. Who you gonna send it to, my dead grandma?” Remus asks, licks his lips with a grin as he wiggles in his seat. The ropes around his wrists are tight, but definitely loose enough to slip out of if he pulls hard enough. Remus gets to work using his sharp fingernails to slice through through the rope one strand at a time, to try and reduce the circumference and be able to slide it far enough through the knot that he’ll be able to just yank his hands free. Remus guesses that all those years of putting up with Roman’s boy scouts phase weren’t a complete waste.

“Nope. You got a brother, it’s goin’ to him,” the kidnapper replies with a sneer. He’s finally finished setting the camera up, presses a button to start it rolling, and the red light begins to blink. Remus raises an eyebrow as the kidnapper settles back slightly further from the tripod and pulls out a stack of note cards, and it’s with a barely contained giggle Remus realizes that he had to write his speech down.

“Proof of life,” the guy says into the microphone with a much deeper, more gruff voice than before, and it takes so much effort to not burst out into raucous laughter. “If you want your poor little brother here back to you alive, you’re gonna leave no less than 200 thousand in a bag at the address provided. Unmarked bills, no cops. You leave the money, and then you get your ass out of there. If you call the police or try to pull any tricks, little bro here is gettin’ a bullet to the face. Once I confirm the money’s clean, he’ll be dropped off somewhere within walking distance of help, alive. You have three days. If that money still isn’t with me by the time midnight rolls around come Saturday, he’s dead.”

The kidnapper presses a button on the top of the camera and the red light stops blinking with a little click. Just in time, too, because Remus busts out into uncontrollable laughter as soon as the camera stops recording. His lungs and chest hurt with how hard he’s laughing, but he can’t stop, and the offended, angry look on the guy’s face just makes him laugh harder.

“Stop fuckin’ laughing!” his kidnapper snaps, but his voice cracks at the end, and Remus is in tears. It’s pretty predictable when the guy rushes him and punches him in the jaw, knocking the rest of his breath out of his lungs in a pained wheeze. Remus barely has a moment to recover before the guy’s fist is buried in his gut, forcing a hacking cough from Remus’ throat. He wants to keep laughing, but now it hurts like a bitch to even breathe, so maybe staying quiet for now is the best option.

“I said I’d bring you back alive, not unharmed. Don’t fucking push me,” the guy growls maliciously, a cold glint in his eyes as he reaches into his pocket. He pulls out a switchblade, flips the knife out in a way that shines the metal’s reflection of the light in Remus’ face. How annoying. The kidnapper presses the knife into Remus’ throat, in the same spot he’s had tracheostomies performed when his airway was blocked, and the feeling of smooth, sharp metal just centimeters away from his trachea is almost comforting in its familiarity.

“Fuck you,” Remus responds hoarsely, spits as much as he can and it lands on his kidnapper’s chin. Remus knows he’s going to be pissed, knows the fallout will be painful as fuck, but he can’t really seem to bring himself to care. He doesn’t regret it, either, not even when the guy yells out in anger and slams his fist into Remus’ stomach again. He doesn’t regret it when the guy mutters something about teaching him a lesson, he doesn’t regret it when he replaces his switchblade with the bigger chef’s knife laying on the shelf in the corner, and he certainly doesn’t regret it when the guy returns with a sadistic grin.

Remus will brag about what happens next for so, so long after he gets out of here, because it’s the funniest shit he’s ever done. The disheveled man brings the knife to Remus’ chest and pushes the blade into his skin, slowly slicing it open as the fresh cut forms a bleeding slash. But Remus doesn’t even flinch, doesn’t even yell from the pain. He just moans, one that isn’t of fear but rather high-pitched and obscene, a mockery of sex that leaves him barely able to hold onto the laugh that wants to push past his harshly gritted teeth. “Harder, daddy!”

And that’s probably the last straw, because the end of the cut turns much less clean in the guy’s lividity. The blade presses deeper into his skin, draws more blood and elicits more pain to radiate from his chest, and it takes more effort than Remus would like to not cry out. As much as he doesn find real humour in this situation, he can’t really afford to die here, so staying the dominant, unafraid personality to this man who obviously fears a lack of control is important. He can’t show fear, because that will just bolster the guy’s confidence and keep his head clear enough to not make mistakes. However, if he’s upset and feeling undermined, his anger will cause him to slip up, and allow Remus the opportunity to turn the tables on him. It does sound easy in hindsight, but slacking off won’t help any, so Remus focuses in on burying the pain below a layer of numbness.

“You know what? Maybe I won’t send it to your little brother. Maybe I won’t return you at all. Maybe, I’ll just keep you here, tied up so you can only sit there as I torture your little boyfriend,” the kidnapper seethes, and his eyes narrow as an even more deranged smile slips onto his face when Remus stiffens uncontrollably. “What, that hit a nerve? You scared for your little boy toy? What was his name… Logan, right? I know where he lives. And I’ll steal him from his bed, bring him here and force you to watch while I slice him up. Maybe I’ll make you watch me fuck him, take care of him better than you ever could, hmm? How about that? Want me to fuck your boyfriend for you? I saw him, y’know, a cute little nerd with glasses. Nice ass, skinny waist… he’s almost like a girl. Maybe I’ll keep him for myself, after I kill you, fuck him every single day while he just cries for his poor ol’e Remus.”

No. No, no, no no nononono. How dare he?! You can do anything to Remus. You can threaten him, make fun of him, torture him, and he’d laugh in your face. But this guy has the fucking nerve to bring his boyfriend into this? No. Unacceptable. This isn’t-- fuck.

And Remus knows he should stay calm, not let his words get to him, but…he knows Logan’s name. And apparently, where Logan lives. What if he does take Logan, does hurt him while Remus can’t even do anything about it, helplessly tied to a chair? What if this guy hurts his baby, hurts his Logan, and Remus could’ve prevented it? It’s far too easy to imagine Logan’s eyes filled with fear, the attempts to stave off tears, muffled cries of pain. All he can see in his mind is Logan traumatized, and for the very first time, the thought of sex makes Remus feel sick to his stomach.

So with an enraged snarl, Remus yanks his hands free from the flimsy rope keeping then locked behind the back of the chair, and then lunges. He relishes in the surprised yelp, the angered fear in his eyes, the way he scrambles to fight back far too late. Because he’s pinned under Remus, and once he’s got someone in his grip, he isn’t letting go. For probably too long, Remus just sits there, beating his kidnapper with shaking fists. The man fell unconscious a while ago, hasn’t been a threat for minutes, but Remus doesn’t have any other way to take out his frustration besides sitting here on top of this guy, pummeling him to hell and back. Eventually, his arms fall limply to his sides, and Remus’ eyes dull as he slouches over. His breathing is light and trembling, and there’s a feeling welling up in his chest that he doesn’t understand, can’t pinpoint or identify. His legs feel like they’re on fire when he pushes himself to his feet, burn when he sways a bit in an attempt to keep his balance.

Remus doesn’t know where he is, or how far he was taken from his home, but that doesn’t matter. It doesn’t matter what Remus has to go through, because as he climbs the ladder out of this cellar and emerges in a long, dark hallway, he knows. He knows as he trudges to the end, as he whips open the door on the other side to reveal an alleyway. He knows as he gets to the road, recognizes the bakery across the bustling traffic, and when he turns in the opposite direction of his apartment. He knows when he sees the green sign at the intersection, sees the familiar name of Logan’s street, when he approaches his apartment complex. He knows that Logan’s going to be okay, because he’s going to make sure of it, and Remus vows that nobody will ever be able to threaten his boyfriend ever again.

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hunnywrites · 5 years ago

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We Fell In Love In October: Part Two

Summary: Billy and Teddi celebrate Halloween in 1986.

A/N: One chapter left! I’m officially dedicating this series to the guy in front of me in line at Horror Nights the other night that had a mullet, was chewing on a toothpick and telling his girlfriend how weird she was for being so scared to go into the haunted houses. Being stuck behind those two through the Us house was something special. He scared her more than any of the actors. So this is for you, real life Billy Hargrove. Even if you were wearing crocs.

It was late when Billy and Teddi left the movies the next night. They’d had a bit of a lazy day so far. They woke up around noon and made pancakes for breakfast (technically Billy did. He actually knew how to cook while Teddi was still learning not to burn everything). Teddi talked him into driving back into town for more hot apple cider and getting some candy for trick or treaters from Melvald’s before the movie It was still a weird feeling to step into the little convenience store and not see Joyce Byers. Teddi tried not to think about it.

It had been an entire year now since the Byers’ and El had moved out of Hawkins. While most things had gone back to normal (or as normal as things could be in Hawkins), thinking about all of the people who weren’t around anymore made Teddi’s heart ache. She missed El, Will and Joyce. Even Johnathan.

Now Billy had his arm thrown around Teddi’s shoulders as they made their way through the main lobby. The teens working there were closing the snack bar down for the night. “I think that’s probably the worst movie you’ve ever made me watch, Larsson. And you’ve shown me some shit storms.” Billy tossed his now empty bucket of popcorn away before opening the door for Teddi.

It had been a really bad movie. So bad Teddi was a little surprised it had even made it to theaters and not gone straight to video. “...At least you got to see the girls topless a few times.” she offered with a small, sheepish smile as the pair made their way to the Camaro. Teddi pulled Billy’s denim jacket tighter around herself to try and keep warm.

Billy shot her a look. “Those definitely didn’t look like any sorority chicks I’ve ever seen.” he muttered, sliding into the driver’s seat.

Teddi rolled her eyes and smiled at him. Leave it to Billy to complain about seeing naked chicks. “The sorority chicks you’ve seen are porn stars playing dress up in Hustler.” she argued. He didn’t say anything.

“...Whatever. I’m picking the movie next time.” he muttered. That meant they’d be seeing some mindless action movies with lots of explosions. Teddi held in a groan at the idea. The last one hadn’t been so bad, but that was only because Kurt Russell had been in it.

TeddI threw her legs over Billy’s lap and let out a loud sigh. “If you insist...wait a second, where are we going?” she asked. Billy was driving in the opposite direction of their little house. Everything in town was closed for the night. And Billy hadn’t mentioned anything about having any other plans after the movies.

Billy’s hand was resting on Teddi’s leg, his thumb absently rubbing at her ankle. “I just wanted to check something out.” he said cooly. There was a mischievous smirk twitching at his lips that made Teddi’s stomach do a flip. Nothing good ever happened when he got that look. But Teddi would play along for now. At least until she saw how stupid whatever he had planned was.

Eventually Teddi started to realize that they were headed back to their old neighborhood. Billy turned onto Cherry Road, and Teddi’s face screwed up into a confused frown. She pulled her legs from Billy’s lap, leaning forward as if somehow that would help her figure out what he had planned. He drove past the house he’d lived in with Neil and Susan. Neil’s car was in the driveway and the lights inside were off. Teddi couldn’t stop squirming in her seat. Billy didn’t even glance in the house’s direction as he passed.

Teddi let out a breath she hadn’t realized she’d been holding in when the house was no longer in sight. “What’s wrong?” Billy asked. Teddi could hear hear teasing grin. “Don’t wanna visit the in laws?”

She let out a laugh. “Oh fuck off. That’s not funny,” she playfully shoved him. Billy laughed. “And they’re not my in laws.” she said, holding up her hand and moving her bare ring finger. At some point they’d jokingly started referring to Neil and Susan as Teddi’s in laws. Mostly because Neil hated Teddi and Billy seemed to find it funny.

Billy reached over and took her hand in his. He playfully bit the knuckle of her ring finger before pressing a kiss to it. They didn’t ever talk about getting married. It was too soon for either of them. While they didn’t see themselves ending up with anyone else, Billy would only be twenty next month and Teddi was still a teenager. They had all the time in the world for things like that.

“Will you please tell me where we’re going?” Teddi asked, beginning to get restless.

“Will you please be patient?” he teased. Teddi let out a loud huff and crossed her arms, sinking down in her seat. There was no breaking Billy when he had a surprise planned. In all reality she hadn’t had to wait that long. Another ten minutes and Billy pulled up into the driveway of a house that looked like it hadn’t been touched in decades. He didn’t give any clue as to why they were there. He only looked over at Teddi, that mischievous smirk back, and shut the Camaro off.

“Uh...you do know we have our own house to fool around in, right?” she asked, attempting to joke to cover up how confused she was.

Billy rolled his eyes. “That’s not what this is. Although if you wanna I’m not gonna complain,” he smirked. “I heard about this place from the guys at work. They said this family lived here, back in the 50’s. All of this weird shit started happening after they moved in, I guess. But one night, the oldest brother wakes up, picks up a gun and takes his whole family out. He says the devil made him do it. It’s supposed to be haunted now.” he explained, his voice low.

Teddi looked at Billy and the up to the large, two story house before them. “Wow...that’s scary,” she said blankly. Billy frowned. “That’s also totally just the Amityville Horror.”

“Wait, what? The hell is that?” he asked with an annoyed expression.

“It’s a total classic! Have you never seen it?” she didn’t know why she asked. Of course he hadn’t. “It’s based off a true story. The house was like two towns over from where I grew up, but I was always too scared to go see it.” she said with a small laugh.

“...Shit,” Billy muttered. “I was kinda hoping it was true,” Teddi raised an eyebrow. Billy rolled his eyes. “Not that they died, but that it was haunted.”

“Are you forgetting what happened the last time you went into an abandoned building?” another question she didn’t need to ask. Neither of them would ever forget what happened to Billy in that steel mill.

Billy gripped the steering wheel and let out an annoyed scoff. “C’mon, Ted. I’ve done all of your Halloween shit. Let’s just check it out. What’s the worst thing that can happen?” Teddi could think of an endless list of horrible things that might happen. But he was right. He’d been a good sport. And it wasn’t like the place was actually haunted. She could give it a go.

“Fine, let’s go ghost hunting, Venkman.” she teased as she slid out of the Camaro.

“Who the hell is Venkman?”

“It’s from Ghostbusters, you nerd.”

“Oh I’m the nerd?” Billy asked with a laugh. The pair walked cautiously through the overgrown front lawn and up to the front door. The red paint was cracked and peeling. The tiny windows were so grimy they couldn’t peek through them to see inside. Billy was a little reluctant to touch the rusted over knob. He turned it slowly. It was locked. “Shit. Looks like we’re finding another way in then.” he took a step back from the porch and surveyed the outside of the house for a moment.

Teddi shifted uncomfortably on the porch. The wood was starting to rot. Each plank of wood creaked loudly with every step to the point where Teddi was a little worried she might fall through. “You mean breaking and entering?” she asked.

“It’s abandoned. Me and my friends used to hang out in abandoned spots all the time back in California.” Billy waved her worries away and headed around to the side of the house. Teddi followed behind him.

“...Didn’t you guys get arrested like four times for trespassing?”

Billy ignored the question. He shoved one of the windows open, turning back to Teddi with a proud look as he wiped his hands on the back of his pants. “See? It’s unlocked. So technically we’re just entering.” he offered.

“I don’t know why I keep letting you talk me into this kinda shit. It’s probably not even haunted.” Teddi muttered. Billy leaned down, linking his fingers together to give her a boost inside. They’d done this so many times over the years it was almost like a muscle memory.

Billy smirked. “Come on, Weird Girl. I’ve talked you into stuff that’s way more fun than this.” Teddi let out a squeak as his hand met her ass harshly as she crawled through the window. She could feel her cheeks burning.

“You could have killed me,” she said dramatically after she landed inside with a thud. “I could’ve broken my neck or something.” the rest of her teasing lecture was cut off as she turned to take the house in. She regretted coming in. It was still fully furnished. Everything was covered in dust and cobwebs, so much to the point where Teddi had a hard time imagining what anything had looked like when the house had people living in it. It was like whoever had lived there had just run off. Bolted in the middle of the night and never returned. She felt a little chill up her spine.

She jumped a little when Billy pulled himself inside, his boots landing loudly on the wooden floors. “What’s the matter, Ted?” he asked with a smile. “Scared?” he reached around her, fingers tickling her side.

Teddi slapped his hand away. “No. You just startled me is all…” it wasn’t really much of a shock to Billy that Teddi believed in ghosts or that she was easily spooked by them.

Billy grinned over at his girlfriend, his arms snaking around her waist and pulling him to her. “Come on, Ted. You said it yourself that it’s probably not haunted.” he buried his face in her neck, his breath tickling Teddi’s neck.

“That was before I got the total Neibolt street vibes from this place. I can’t believe we haven’t gotten eaten by a killer clown yet,” she muttered. Billy let out a chuckle, pulling away from her and linking their fingers together as he pulled her towards the stairs. “Did someone actually die here?” she asked, unable to keep herself from constantly looking over both shoulders.

He only shrugged. “How should I know? I bought that Amityville shit. Kinda creepy that everything’s still here though, huh?” that was an understatement. Teddi was scared that they’d stumble across some gruesome, decades old crime scene that hadn’t been cleaned up. Her other hand reached up to grab Billy’s arm as they ascended the stairs.

There were some framed family photos on the walls upstairs. There were a few knick knacks, photos and a vase that was full of decaying flowers that filled Teddi’s nose with a sweet but sort of musty smell as they passed by. There were cigarette butts and beer cans littering the hallway. They looked relatively new, she realized with a wave of dread. Was someone inside with them right now? Watching them walk the halls?

“If someone ends up murdering us I’m going to fucking kill you.” Teddi muttered. Billy only laughed. She wasn’t kidding.

He pulled away from her and headed into one of the rooms. “Look, babe. It’s not that bad. No blood splatters, no headless bodies, just...a lot of fucking dust.” Teddi hated how amusing he found all of this. She felt like she was in a crypt. But Teddi followed after him anyways. It was better to be with Billy and his fucked up sense of humor than out in the hall alone.

“If I say I have asthma, can we go home?” she asked, wriggling her nose at all of the dust and god only knew what else was floating around.

“Oh, you have asthma now?” he asked with a grin.

“..Ye- did you hear that?” there was definitely something downstairs. There was a loud thump, like something had fallen over. And Billy had heard it too. His head snapped back towards the doorway and his expression had gone all serious. It did absolutely nothing to calm her nerves.

Billy stepped out in front of Teddi, holding his arm out to shield as if he was expecting something to charge at the both of them. “...I’m gonna go check it out. You stay here.” it wasn’t a suggestion. And Teddi didn’t really want to argue, but she also didn’t want to let him go downstairs where some headless ghost was going to kill him.

So she counted to sixty in her head before she followed after him. The house had gone completely silent. She couldn’t hear the heavy footsteps of Billy’s boots on the rotting floorboards. Only her own. Teddi swallowed thickly as she slowly moved through the house looking for her boyfriend. “...Billy?” she called cautiously before stepping into the kitchen. No answer.

The window above the sink was broken. Maybe that had been the noise she had heard? Maybe some kids were breaking in, hoping to see ghosts like Billy? But she was alone. No sign of Billy or any teens. She immediately started to fear for the worst. “Billy this isn’t funny, okay? If you’re hiding can you just come out? Take me home? ..I’ll do one of your gross sex things!” still no answer. Teddi let out a huff.

Teddi walked out of the kitchen and into what she assumed must have been a sitting room. There was a fireplace big enough for her to stand in, and an old, dusty piano sitting in front of it. Teddi nervously fiddled with two of the piano’s keys, the sharp, out of tune notes sending a chill up her spine.

There was another thud. And a sound like something was being dragged. Teddi gulped. She shifted from foot to foot. This was definitely a predicament. If she went looking for whatever was making the sound she’d be killed like all of those idiot girls in horror movies. You never went after strange noises and you never asked who was there. But that dragging sound...what if something had gotten Billy?

Teddi’s hands clenched into fists at her sides, her shoulders straight and her head held high. Fuck horror movie rules, she decided. She headed back to the living room where she and Billy had broken in earlier. She was sure that’s where she’d heard the thud coming from. Out of the corner of her eye she saw movement behind the couch. Something else moved quickly past the doorway. Already she was outnumbered.

“Bil-” whatever was behind the couch had sprung up, yelling loudly at Teddi. She screamed, instinctively throwing a punch out in front of her.

“Christ, Teddi!” it was Steve Harrington. He was wearing some stupid skeleton mask. Steve groaned loudly, slowly peeling the mask off and grabbing his nose. It was bleeding.

“Steve? What the hell are you doing here?” she spat. Suddenly there was laughter behind her. Teddi whipped around, glaring at Billy and Robin who were both laughing so hard it looked like they could barely keep themselves upright.

Steve plopped down onto the couch and tilted his head back to try and stop the bleeding. “You said we were gonna scare her,” he whined. “You didn’t say anything about my nose being broken!”

Robin rolled her eyes, making her way over to her best friend and slapping his hands away from his face. She looked at him for a moment before shaking her head. “It’s not broken, drama queen. She just got you good. Nice shot, Teddi. I’m glad I didn’t lose rock, paper, scissors.” she clapped Teddi on the shoulder before sitting next to Steve.

“Is someone gonna tell me what the fuck is going on?” Teddi asked, glaring over at Billy. He was still laughing a little bit.

“Don’t look at me,” Steve said, his voice thick as he pinched his nose shut. “This was all his idea.” he jabbed his thumb in Billy’s direction. She didn’t really need Steve to tell her that. Of course it had been Billy’s idea.

Billy wrapped an arm around her shoulders. “Come on, Ted. It’s just a little Halloween fun.” he said with a smirk. If looks could kill, Billy would have been dead.

“I think you’re sleeping on the couch tonight, Goldielocks.” Robin said with a snort.

Teddi shrugged Billy’s arm off. “Was any of this true? The whole house being haunted thing? Grisly murders? Ghost hunting?”

Steve had finally managed to get his nose to stop bleeding. “What? No. The family that lived here stopped paying their taxes and ditched the place. Kids come here to smoke weed and hook up. I’ve been coming here for like...ever and I’ve never seen a ghost.”

“If he had he was probably too stoned to realize.” Robin said as the two broke out into quiet giggles.

Teddi turned to look at Billy and crossed her arms tightly over her chest. “So you lied, drove me all the way out here, and had Steve scare me? For a joke?”

Billy shifted uncomfortably. “...I mean, when you put it like that I sound like a dick.”

“You are.” Steve and Robin both said.

“Oh, you have no idea what’s coming for you, Hargrove,” Teddi said, jabbing him in the chest. “I’m gonna get you back. And you’re not gonna know when. It can be tomorrow or five years from now-”

“Come on, Teddi, it was a joke.” Billy urged.

Robin groaned. “Let it go already. You totally deserve whatever’s coming. Can we go now?”

“Yeah. Billy promised us beer and horror movies, remember? You were all come on, dude, it’ll be fun! We’ll scare her and then we can hang out!” Steve said, mocking Billy’s voice.

Billy held up his hands. “Yeah, yeah. I remember. Just get outta here, alright? We’ll meet you there,” the message was heard loud and clear. Robin and Steve shared a look, pushing themselves up off of the couch and passing by Teddi and Billy. Robin patted Teddi on the shoulder as she went. “Teddi…” Billy started once they were alone.

Teddi fixed a stern look his way. “I was worried. I was down here thinking of all of the horrible things that might have happened to you. I thought something had like eaten you or something!”

Billy approached her slowly, gently taking her wrists into his hands and pulling her to him. She didn’t fight it, but she didn’t lean into him like he had been hoping. “It was a joke,” he repeated. “C’mon Doll, don’t be pissed at me.” Billy only broke out Doll when he was really in trouble (which Teddi had to admit really wasn’t very often).

Teddi wrapped her arms around his neck, smiling up at him. “It’s fine. I was just pulling your leg.”

Billy let out a sigh of relief. “So are we even?”

“Are you kidding? Fuck no,” Billy groaned. “You know, I don’t know what I’m more offended by. You planning all of this, or the fact that you didn’t ask me to scare Steve instead.”

Billy scratched the back of his neck. “...I guess I thought you’d think it was funny.” he admitted.

“I mean...it was, I guess. But if you do it again I’m dumping your ass.”

He let out a small chuckle and nodded. “Deal...and we can still scare the shit out of Harrington tonight if you want. He’s on our turf.”

Teddi let out a snort. “I’ll think about it. Let’s go, West Side Story. I wanna get out of this dump.” she took Billy by the hand and pulled him towards the front door.

“Hey, wait. Were you serious about the sex stuff earlier?”

“In your dreams, Hargrove.”

#billy hargrove #billy hargrove fic #billy hargrove x oc

19 notes · View notes

9uk · 6 years ago

Text

Let Me Stay Close To You : part 1

⌲ summary : you were finally free from the worst nightmare of your life in high school. the doors of college welcomed you with open arms, you were set on living your best life in here, away from the toxicity back at home. that shimmer of hope in restoring your life, was somehow effortlessly crushed by a tap on your shoulder. “Hey Y/N, why don’t you say we catch up for a moment?”

⌲ pairing : bully!jungkook x reader

⌲ word count : 4.9k

⌲ genre : a whole lot of fluff maybe, refreshing jungkook, oc & friends ^-^

⌲ warnings : mentions of being a victim of bully, light grinding, suggestive terms

⌲ a/n : here it is! i’m so sorry if it’s bad :”

prologue > one > part two

You see, the reason why Jungkook constantly picks on you is—

Firstly. Although you were this sweet girl filled with compassion who treated everyone equally and nicely, you were nonetheless ostracised in school. Due to the fact that you covered up who your father was to protect yourself, and your family.

“Wait Y/N, what does your father do?” One of your classmates had questioned, making sure she was pulling on and cutting off the right strings.

Confirming, that it would be okay to ignore you.

“My father had died in an car accident a few years back.” Her eyes widened, in what you assumed as sympathy. “I only have my mom, who works at the coffee shop just around the corner of the street.” At that, her sympathy washes away and is replaced quickly by what you deemed as disassociation. All you receive is an ‘O’ shape formed on her mouth, before she slithers away to join her group of friends who carried Chanel bags and wore Gucci shoes to school.

Everybody then knew you as the girl who is single-parented by a humble mother who works at a café down the street. There was this hierarchy in school, and there was almost no reason to get close to somebody who was not worth of connections and had no business strings to pull. To put it simply, your ass was not wealthy enough to suck up to.

And the perfect person to bully. (Without having their family company’s stock rate to drop.)

You try to pass off as indifferent as ever, like this was your life and everything to you is nothing more than a normality.

But it isn’t.

It’s sort of amusing how you had to travel to such extremities in order to make sure your journey in high school would be a smooth-sailing and unbothered one.

You had rather those shallow-minded, materialistic people to keep an appropriate distance away from the girl in rags. Therefore, you lied.

“Oh there’s the girl whose father passed on from an accident.” Compared to, “Isn’t that the girl whose father committed embezzlement?” It’s somehow better in some way or another to lie about your father’s death than to tell the school the ugly truth.The former would cause people to avoid you, a fatherless child, while the latter would cause people to despise you, a criminal’s daughter. Sympathy was better than contempt, after all.

It’s been almost eight months since that—you could quite literally say, mind-blowing incident.

It was the time of the year where the first years would start enrolling into the colleges that have sent them an acceptance letter. It was the time, for a fresh clean start.

For everybody. Especially you.

You got into a college a few hours drive far away from the hometown. You call it the hometown because that place had turned foul with the odour of filthy money, the values of the society you were living in back there unreservedly stinks of corruption and discrimination towards the less well-off and the weak—it wasn’t even yours to begin with.

No, you didn’t want to acknowledge a place like that as your home.

You stuck out like a total sore thumb in that city.

Surely the town had a beautiful cityscape, splattered with greyscale high-rised office buildings with doses of parks and bridges.

It looked picturesque.

Fact is, it only looked picturesque.

What lies behind the millionaire central business district was the cruelsome inevitable hierarchy and a deadly game of chess.

Kill, or be killed.

You left for a peace of the mind, to put behind all the bad memories, nightmare of a terrible highschool life and the irreversible tragic situation your family was in. Your father was still an employee in that company, with no other choice but to work like a bull as a form of redemption to his wrongdoings.

Meanwhile, your mother diligently worked as a barista and kept her profile low-key. She couldn’t enjoy her usual high-tea sessions with her housewife friends anymore, she couldn’t even lift her head when she stepped out of the house anymore. Tragic, indeed.

College was like a fresh breather.

Like a clean and proper start to everything, considering no one from highschool was likely to be here with you. It was a chance to meet new, kinder people who did not steal your yoghurt or vandalise your belongings or maybe even split your forehead apart like a certain someone—and to finally live a life of someone normal.

It was like a new shot at life. At least that was what you thought.

Carrying all your belongings from your old apartment, you hear noises coming from your dormitory.

“Ah! What do I do? How am I going to cook all these ramen I bought?! Why am I so stu-oh my god!” Your roomie looks at you by the door, watching her go into a fit of frenzy.

“You scared me! Why are you standing there like that?” She starts bursting into laughter.

And you naturally let out a light chuckle, too.

“I have a kettle, and it’s for sharing.” You lift up the pink sleek kettle you have in hand after overhearing her not-so-quiet state of despair. Her eyes twinkle with a gleam of hope, like her entire sanity just got saved.

By a pink floral-printed, kettle.

“Thank you! You’re the best! I can already tell we’re going to get along just fine!” She beams in excitement and pulls you into a tight hug while you try to prevent all of your stuff from dropping onto the ground.

Oh, so much for a kettle.

“I’m Sooyoung, nice to meet you…?” She chirps with her bright red lipstick and pearly white teeth—you already love her so much, your only friend in such a long time.

“U-Uh, it’s Y/N.” You sheepishly grin, averting her sparkly eyes.

So this is what the effect being deprived of any proper contact with humans felt like. You could feel chemistry building rapidly between the both of you, or maybe it was solely because you haven’t had a true friend in ages.

Sooyoung was definitely outspoken and extroverted, simple-minded and direct with her feelings—which in contrary to you, who was leaning towards the more reserved and introverted side. Hanging out with Sooyoung made you feel like you had some self-worth, her strong initiative and inclusion towards you made you feel like you were needed as a friend, for once in so long.

Regardless of your financial status.

And no longer than a couple of days, the both of you had grown so close through the binge-watching of netflix and love for Toki’s fried chicken. The two of you hopped around campus, getting exploited to the publicity of various clubs and sport teams and adjusting in through the freshmen orientation you wished had never ended. Because the end of orientations meant the start of classes—which you weren’t such a sucker for anymore, knowing how much fun you could have to hang out with legitimate friends.

It felt different, but it felt nice.

To be able to speak without being afraid, to be able to tease and hug one another so casually without any obstructions of statuses. It felt nice to be able to be yourself, the Y/N who played tag, built sandcastles and rambled about the the number of dogs you were going to own in the future under the night stars, with your bestfriend. It felt nice to be able to open up your soul.

And that is why suddenly, you were a fan of raising the roof. You became one of those girls in their little squads back in high school who constantly had silly grins plastered onto their faces, squealing over celebrity crushes and skipping off to movie dates hand-in-hand with their girlfriends. And just for once, you felt like you were normal. You fitted in easily, with the help of Sooyoung, became just like everyone else. She introduced you to two of her other friends, Wendy and Seulgi, who were just as amazing as she was.

“Come on, let’s go Y/N.” Your mouth open agape as you looked at her, dumbfounded. What exactly were you supposed to wear to a friends outing? It was the first time you were actually going to meet up with her friends.

“I-I have nothing to wear.” You blurt out, and Sooyoung makes a sound of something in between a scoff and a laugh.

“Do you even need to wear anything? We’re only meeting Seul and Wen for coffee!” You embarassingly scratch the back of your head, feeling like you read too much into a coffee date.

“Here,” She steps foward and pulls out a top from your section of the wardrobe. “This should do.” Sooyoung shakes her head as you get dressed, thinking how much you’ve never went out before.

You put on a long sleeved floral top and jeans. You have never been yourself in highschool, you felt like you didn’t have the right to, dress all girly and pretty—it felt like something only the rich and pretty could do.

During the school break, you let your hair down, started wearing contact lenses, and even dyed your hair a light brown—you were almost unrecognisable. The thought that no one was going to laugh at you for dolling yourself up, had you shrieking in excitement as you happily made your way to the mall.

So here you were, sitting at the café nearby the university, having a session of gossip with your own little squad.

Having something or someone you love is honestly the greatest vulnerability. Once you have a taste of something, you wouldn’t want to let that go—no, not just yet. Once something is under your possesion, and the worst thing that can happen is that you would grow so accustomed to it. If you told yourself 4 years ago that you would be sitting with a bunch of your closest friends, chattering happily and discussing about what you going to wear to the party later in the evening over lunch— you would probably laugh in utter disbelief, for that would only happen in your wildest dreams. And the wildest dream were you living in, sitting at the caféteria having a serious meeting about how your clique should wear a similar concept of clothes and stride into the frathouse like bad bitches.

Though, it seemed like Seulgi was the only one serious about this whole thing.

“No thanks, I’m good.” Wendy opts out and decides to go with her own full black style.

“Um okay, who’s with me?”

You could tell Seulgi was nervous, by how hard she is trying to come up with a mastermind plan with the four of you to at least leave an impression in the welcoming party. Her eyecandy, Taehyung was going to be there, she had to somehow step up her game, right? After drooling over him in Biology lectures for what seemed like weeks, she was finally going to gain a chance at some sort of interaction with the “love of her life”—as she proclaims—at this very major and important party of entering the college life.

There was a foam of unsettling silence until Sooyoung decides to disrupt it. All of you wanted nothing more but to drink away your feelings of sorrow for the term that was about to commence.

“Okay fine, I will do it with you.” Sooyoung volunteers, seeing as to no one was particularly interested.

“I guess I will join too then..” You raised, and Seulgi’s pout transforms into a smile at once. She proceeds to tug on Wendy’s arm, who was boredly using her phone while waiting for Seulgi to be over that idea. But as she looks up to three pairs of eyes expectantly waiting for her reply, she sighs.

“I can’t believe the two of you agreed to it. Disappointed is an understatement.” With a roll of her eyes, the four of you laughed heartedly in satisfaction and carried on with the conversation about boys, boys and boys.

After a long bonding session, which consisted of them being shocked as to how you’ve never dated before, which they found impossible—because they thought you were really gorgeous and lovely. As the girls scanned your features upon Wendy’s compliment, you knew they noticed the scar at your left temple—by how their eyes linger there for a moment before quickly diverting their gaze to the rest of your face as an act of oblivion. They chose to not question something you didn’t mention out of your own will.

Who would have guessed you were a victim of bullying?

Suddenly, your chair screeched loudly “Oh crap, I’ve got to go submit some papers at the office!” You weren’t done with registering your details with the university, and had a lot of troublesome loose strings to tie up for your father wanted to you to receive the allowance he gave to you every month from the school. The office was closing barely in a few minutes, and you had to check it off your to-do-list by today.

“Sorry girls, I have to rush off now,” You felt bad for leaving your friends like in the middle of an enticing horror story Seulgi was telling, but nonetheless you snatched your belongings and made your way out of the café, flustered.

“See you at the dorm at 6!” Sooyoung yells out to you and you reply her with a sloppish wave. The rustic copper bells at the door twinkles violently as it busts open, and you’re flying off to campus.

The smell of succulent wild berries and soft white violets.

He can almost recognise that smell from anywhere. Jungkook looks up from the game on his mobile device. His characters were groaning loudly in pain in his eardrums, losing the match but he squints in the distance, putting all the broken misplaced pieces of nostalgia together once again. Was that who he thought it was? Your face lingered faintly at the back of his head but he shook his head and pushed the suspicion away.He whips around and tilts his head from the dull pain of the whiplash. The clicking of her leather boot heels become amplified as his vision focused solely on her back—the way her soft fawn locks sway from side to side with every step she took, the way her cute pink top flowed in the wind of spring, this aura of confidence she had radiating around her entire form, the scent she left behind was persistent in his nose, and he hates to admit but it further confirms his suspicions.

But no, it couldn’t be.

It couldn’t be at all.

He must be hallucinating, but she was on his mind the whole day, the sight of her slowly disappearing into the university’s building from the open walkway etched on his very mind. Something about that girl hit the sense of familiarity in him—with a pinch of longing and a sense of regret.

“Can’t wait to see Taehyung,” Seulgi’s feet tap on the ground in anticipation mixed with nervousness. She must have known she was not the only one fawning over Taehyung’s perfectly sculpted features.

“Can’t wait to get wasted.” Wendy softly follows after.

Sooyoung smacks Wendy, “And yours truly would have to drag your asses back?” She sulks at the fact that she had to control her liqour and not go all out tonight—for she was all of yours’ ride back.

“Did you happen to forget that you’re the only one who’s got a driver’s license?” Wendy reminds, and Sooyoung is left with a defeated sigh, wishing she hadn’t learnt to drive before any of you all did.

The house was already slightly bouncing from the booming pop music inside, the windows doing a bad job at encasing the sound waves. The party has not even begun, but the whole house was filled with guests—freshmen, mostly—and it felt like half of the college’s students were present here. You swear you heard a few whistles as the four of you walked through the door, entering one by one, completely fazed by the entire atmospehere of the party. You sucked in a deep breath, calming your nerves and preventing yourself from developing a panic attack from how loud and crowded this place.

You felt strange, your seventh sense pricking at your thoughts, as if a pair of eyes were watching you intensely. You weren’t used to being with large amounts of people, and to be frank, you already felt suffocated whenever you were in class. The comfort of being alone and having space was not appreciated enough. Especially in crazy parties like this.

A few moments later, while everyone seem to find home at this stranger’s house, you were still stiff and a little uncomfortable. Wendy went to join in a game of beer pong—you can hear her hollers of victory every once in a while. And Seulgi made her way to find her dreamboy, gathering courage to make her moves on him. Sooyoung decided to head to the kitchen to grab drinks, pulling you along, and chugged the unruly liquid in the red cups down too easily. Sooyoung poured you a shot of vodka while she had a cup of tequila in hand, “Y/N, drink this to loosen up.” She says assuringly and you grab suspicious red cup from her hands, looking at it with worry and hesistation. You weren’t one to drink alcohol, you never have and never wanted to. But you guessed it was time to try.

Hands shaky, you immediately brought the drink to your lips, brows furrowing tightly as you down every drop of the vodka. “Wait Y/N, I should pour some soda water to water it down for you.”Sooyoung spins the cap close on the bottle of vodka as she looks around for the soda water.

Cheeks full of hard liquor, both of your eyes widened when she turned around, with the red cup empty in your hand. You swallowed, and it burned your throat. Grimacing from the taste left on your tongue, you looked at her in confusion. “Was I not supposed to just-“

“Oh my goodness, Y/N!” Sooyoung’s face lit up in surprise. “I didn’t know you can hold your liquor that well! I should just..” She drinks straight from the bottle, like a baby sucking on a milk bottle, the hard stuff entering her system.

“Ah, this just feels too good!” She screamed in pure intoxicated happiness and grabbed your arm, heading to the dance floor. “Let’s dance.”

A light buzz clouded your mind from the three-quarter full cup of vodka as you smiled sheepishly, making your way to the dance floor. Sooyoung jumped up and down, swinging to the music and letting her body flow to the rhythm. Her enthusiasm infected you, causing you to slightly follow and move accordingly to her actions and the deafening music. The buzz gradually grew bigger, taking over your whole body, your limbs were dancing on their own as you slowly flutter your eyes shut to the feeling. You were smiling too much—almost unnecessarily as you blended right into the dancing crowd, Sooyoung long drifted away from you, probably having fun with somebody else who matched her high level of energy.

You were certain that you were strongly inebriated, for your cheeks were burning red, and you were dancing.

Dancing.

If the Jeon demon was here, he would have probably took a video of you and laughed at your horrendous movements. But you were having the time of your life, enjoying yourself in this party, dancing.

Fuck, why were you even thinking about him? You felt so free of worries, without any sort of burden‚ like a caged bird set free—you were floating with numerous bodies, to the song you always hear on the radio, with no judgemental eyes or hushed murmurs about the way you were acting.

Your confidence was always weak, but for today, it got stronger—at least just for a moment. Everything felt perfect—even though you were alone, but you knew that you had three friends by your side and that was more than enough. You didn’t want this moment to end.

“Having fun?” A voice echoed in your ear. Although you felt like you were on fire, you manage to feel the hands that creeped up onto your hips, leaving you on slightly on edge and caution. The touch burned through the fabric of the short dress you were wearing, if it was even possible, and you tried turning around. But you failed as the strong grip held you in place, no one would notice you were struggling as everyone on the dance floor just looked like a bunch of twirling limbs. Before you could turn your head to catch a glimpse of the person who was laying their hands on you, he snuck closer to press against your back and rested his chin onto your shoulder. The side of his face so close to yours, you couldn’t even tilt your head around to see his face. It was like he didn’t want you to see his face, for all you know, self-consciousness.

It wasn’t like you minded too much about people’s faces, if anything, you knew better than anyone else than to judge a book by it’s cover. Cover, meaning status, family background, level of affluence—let alone their damn physical appearance.

“You look amazing tonight,” His voice trickles into your ears like candy, sending shivers down your spine with a single compliment. But one thing for sure, was that he smelled so good, and it made you want to bury your face into his chest and let him be the only thing you were going to smell for life.

The faceless stranger didn’t grind onto your ass or sneak his hands further up to your breasts, but the both of you comfortably stayed like that, swaying gently to the music. You silently chided yourself for letting someone touch you like that without knowing his name, or seeing his face—but you enjoyed the way you were being held a little too much than you’d like to admit.

Was this some kind of undiscovered trait of lust you had surging throughout your body?

There was only one way to find out.

You tilted your head back and pushed yourself against him, feeling his crotch press against the crack between the cheeks of your ass.He lets out a deep chuckle, one you assumed was filled with want and amusement from your gnawing desperation to feel him—without knowing anything about this stranger.

Maybe you were too drunk, mind flooding with lustful thoughts and core aching a little from his strong grasp on your hips. But as he interlocks his fingers with yours and moves towards the stairs to bring you upstairs and satisfy your needs that you clearly displayed a few seconds ago, you halted in your tracks. “Waiiit,” You tug him back, speech slurring. And he refuses to turn back to face you, as though he is afraid that you would turn him down once you see his face.

At the same time, he’s listening.

He’s curious as to what you have to say to him.

With his back still stubbornly facing you, you pull him closer and unlock your fingers, spinning him around.

“What’s your name?” You reach out to grab his hand once again, for reassurance. He looks at the floor, scared and nervous to meet your eyes for the very first time. The stranger was elegant and charming—you could sense it clearly from the aura he was radiating around you.

But it was also clear as day that he lacked confidence.

“I’m.. Namjoon, s-sorry,” You clutch his hand tighter to prevent him from leaving abruptly.

You genuinely enjoyed dancing with him, and you feel like he was someone you would want to get to know better.

“Namjoon, look at me. Let me see you properly?” The words came out more like a question, nonetheless he raises his head carefully, as if to give you time you prepare for how ugly he looked.

You know it all, too well.

It wasn’t even a few milliseconds after you looked at his face before—“Namjoon, you look amazing too.” You returned the compliment, not for the sake of boosting his self-confidence or to return the praise—but he really, looked amazing. His brown hair is parted and combed back messily, his monolids and plump lips rested perfectly on his face. You couldn’t really understand why he was self-conscious about his looks, but beauty is in the eye of the beholder. A smile flashes onto his face upon your words and he covers his mouth with his hand shyly. God, he had dimples too. This man was downright gorgeous—it was a pity he couldn’t see that for himself.

“I mean it, you look handsome.” You smile back at him, adoration for this man escalating in you as he chuckles.

“Thank you, uh..” Namjoon’s eyes widened as to how he had missed your name. “I’m Y/N.” You finish for him and he shakes his head at how rude he must have seemed without asking for your name. He panics.

“Sorry I just-” “It’s okay Namjoon.” You giggle, and he leans foward to press a chaste kiss to your lips.

“Fuck, you’re perfect.” Your cheeks grow red at the sudden intimacy, being reminded of where the both of you had left off.

“Shall we go upstairs?” He suggests politely—though, what may happen between the two of you, weren’t so much going to be so.

“Sure-”

“Hey Y/N, why don’t you say we catch up for a moment?”

A tap on your shoulder brings your attention away from Namjoon, your hand dropping from his, hanging loosely by your side at the voice.

At his voice.

You would never forget the voice who brought the insults and mean remarks into your ears, slowly feathering down to your pile of insecurities.

You are certain, that you would never forget his voice.

You could feel your legs begin to tremble as your eyes meet with the devil’s, dark and fierce—piercing right through your soul. The devil, being none other than Jeon Jungkook.

The first thing you feel is denial.

You can’t help but let your jaw drop, lips parting in complete shock and dread. No,no,no, it can’t be. You repeat like a mantra in your heart, hoping it gets to your tipsy head. It just can’t be. This has to be some sort of sickening plot twist in a Korean drama series, right? You tried pinching hard at your thighs, wincing as the pain assures you that this in fact, wasn’t a dream. And Jungkook, the guy who filled your teen years with plain torture and unkept peace, was standing right infront of you.

The second thing you feel is fear.

You could feel your breath start to stutter, as you subconsciously take a step back from him with shaky legs. Namjoon, as expected, was gone by now. Probably having fled as he sees a far more dominating and confident look in Jungkook’s eyes. You were afraid. So afraid that this terrible man would come into your life and ruin everything for you. Sooyoung, Seulgi and Wendy would all probably leave you as this devil incarnate, would claim you to being his punching doll, once again. No one would want to stay close to a victim of bully. No matter how much sympathy they are able to gain, or how much external kindness they are able to receive—they still never have true friends to hang out with, share secrets between and to protect each other. Because who in the world would want to include losers in their fancy little squads?

Victims are only viewed as a burden, bringing down the entire group, being the plus one in everything—it’s hard to open up to people that easily, afraid of saying the wrong things or doing things that would make others upset.

It’s hard.

And you solemnly pray Jungkook wouldn’t make it hard again for you in your new life in college.

As these train of thoughts travel pass your mind, the trembling hand by your side was now grabbed by Jungkook, as he waltzed you through the sweaty crowd and out of the thumping house that made your head spin. He pulls your speechless form outside, the cool and needed fresh air kissing your skin. His fingers are still laced with yours, gently tight and the feeling too foreign for your administration to the vulnerable mind.

Jungkook looks at you with eyes that seem like concern and worry—something that was so unfamiliar to you and never encountered with before.

With his thumb drawing circles over the back of your hand soothingly, that was the last straw.

“Y/N…Are you okay?” Jungkook begins.

And the third thing you feel, is confusion.

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purplesurveys · 5 years ago

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637

Random questions about your significant other. Yay I love these

What's their name? Y’all know the drill. Her name is Gabie. :) Are you dating, engaged, or married? We’re dating, because it’s too early to be getting into the other two just yet. How old are they? She’s 21. How long have you been together? It’ll be our fourth anniversary next month, but before that we also dated for eight months. When and how did you meet? It was in Grade 7, my friend and her friend were friends, so they introduced us to each other. We were a group of four friends for a while, but Gab and I ended up being the closest so we branched out. I took a liking to her because she was the only one in our batch who seemed to know about the fangirling culture, and I fucked with that lmao. Were you friends before you started dating? Yeah, super. We were each other’s best friends for a couple of years. She always says I’m one of the few people who understood her weirdness and quirks and rode along with it, and I can say the same for her with my own quirks. That really helped us become more close with each other.

- Beyond the basics - What did they have for dinner yesterday? We didn’t really have dinner. I know she had Chowking late in the afternoon, and then she met up with me in the evening and we had drinks out with friends. Sam’s uncle covered the food so we had grilled liempo, spicy hotdog, and isaw which technically was our pulutan, but I guess it counts as dinner too. What car do they drive? Her cars change all the time because of her dad’s business, but right now she alternates between a BMW (not sure which model) and a Toyota Vios. Where would they love to travel to the most? I don’t know, she hasn’t really expressed this with me. What is their favorite dog breed? She loves all dogs but I’m pretty sure her favorite breed is golden retriever. Are they more of a dog person or a cat person? She’s definitely more of a dog person, but she recently realized that she loooooves cats and that she’s a cat person as well. What do they do for a living? She doesn’t have a full-time job but I know she used to work at her dad’s company doing publicity materials for their social media, photography, working on Photoshop, etc. Not sure if she’s still doing the gig now since I don’t hear much of it from her these days. Have they ever worked two or more jobs at once? She juggled two executive positions in her two orgs a year ago, if that counts. What's their hair style/color? She used to have blonde tips but she chopped them off a few months ago, so now she’s back to just having her normal, wavy, black hair. Name some of their favorite foods. Chicken pesto pasta, potato chips, and anything her dad cooks? I’m not sure about that last one, but generally I never trust her with having ‘favorites’ because hers changes every single day. What would they consider to be their greatest accomplishment? I’m gonna take a wild guess and say that it was when she scored a 100% scholarship at her present university. The tuition there per year is around P200K but thanks to her hard work and good grades her parents have never had to pay a single cent for her studies. How many cousins do they have? I know she has... a lot but they’re either too old (almost like her aunts and uncles) or live in the States. Her mom is the youngest among her siblings and all of them were already pretty grown-up when she came around; and her dad’s siblings live in the States, hence most of her cousins living there as well. Where did they go to elementary/primary school? She went to the same school I did. We met in Grade 7, or I think what you guys refer to as ~middle school. What's their highest level of education? We’re both in university but graduating this year. How many times have they moved? I’m only aware of the one time she moved, and I’ve also already been to that previous house. If there were any other periods that they moved houses, she hasn’t told me about them. (If married/living together) How many times have you two moved together? Do they have a celebrity look-a-like? She told me that her grandmother used to tell her she looked like Brooke Shields when Brooke was younger, but that was many years ago. Nowadays I hype her up cos she shares a resemblance with Gal Gadot, heh. Do they talk in their sleep? Sometimes. Usually it comes out as gibberish mumbles, but there are times she’d say actual words so for almost four years, I’ve kept a list of all the stuff she’ll say in her sleep. Some of the funnier/more interesting entries include “hot math,” “my knees are still stuck,” “I’m going to shate,” and simply “mutts.”

Have they ever had braces? Yes. We started wearing braces at around the same time but she had to keep hers on longer than I did. What size shoe do they wear? Her feet can fit in either a size 5 or 6. Do they have a good relationship with their parents? Yes. I’ll sometimes confide in her about how lucky she is and about how I wish we had the same set of parents, especially whenever I’m upset with mine. Her parents were very busy with work when she was younger so she wasn’t able to spend a lot of time with them then, but as time passed they were able to catch up and now she has a healthy relationship with both. At what age did they get their drivers license? 18. What was their first car? She changes her car every few months so she’s gone through A LOT and it’ll be hard for me to remember her first...but I’m gonna take a wild-ass guess and say her first was either like a blue-green Toyota Corolla or something similar, or a red Honda CRV. What were they wearing the last time you saw them? Plain gray t-shirt and black jeans. What was their first word? No clue. We’ve never talked about this. Are any of their grandparents still living? She has one living grandmother. What sort of books do they like to read? She’ll read anything I think, but right now she’s into coming-of-age stuff because of the last book she read. What was the last book they read, or are currently reading? ^ That. HAHAHA she didn’t tell me the title or delve too much into the book with me, but yeah it was coming-of-age and she ended up loving it. Do they wear a watch? Sometimes. Most of the time she doesn’t. Do they smoke? Yes. For a long time, I told her not to just cos I found it disgusting, but eventually I realized I can’t prohibit her from doing what she wants to do the whole time we’re together; so I slowly came to terms with her smoking so I just let her. I don’t know if it’ll be a habit of hers but I do know she does it socially. Do they drink? Yes. Are they more introverted or more extroverted? Definitely an extrovert; she can jive with anybody. What was their last reason for going to a doctor? She had a bad asthma attack so she needed to have an IV thing pricked on her for a few hours. What are some of their pet peeves? She HATES moochers, like those who ask for free stuff all the time hahaha I know this because we have a friend who shamelessly does this. She also dislikes freeloaders, laziness, and being scolded especially for something that isn’t her fault. What are some of their fears? On the shallow side, I know she’s scared of horror movies, driving at night, and having to kill cockroaches. But she’s generally a deep person ehhffdrjfld and I know that more than anything, she’s terrified of failing and of the future. What are some of their bad habits? She’s super forgetful but I think it’s endearing. Hmmm she overworks herself a lot, and overthinks as well. What are some of their talents? She’s amazing at writing, creating videos, shooting short films, doing tricks on the balisong, acting, and fixing everything I’ve ever broken haha. What's their favorite amusement park? I’m not a big amusement park person so we haven’t been to any, but I think she likes Disneyland? Have they ever broken a bone? I don’t think so. Which do they tend to remember more - names or faces? Neither. What are their religious beliefs? Or are they not religious? She’s agnostic. She believes there must be something or someone out there that caused the universe and why everything in it has happened so seamlessly, but she is in no pressure to find out who or what it is. Have they ever volunteered anywhere? To my knowledge, she has not. What's their favorite season? I dunno, we only have two. What sports have they played? Basketball and softball. What musical instruments have they played? Guitar and ukulele. What is a cause they feel strongly about? Women’s rights, and women in general. What's their ancestry? She’s Turkish on her mom’s side, but other than that she’s Filipino. Which do they prefer - coffee or tea? Coffee. Do they believe in astrology? Ugh. Yes. Are they more of a night owl or a morning person? Night owl.

#survey #surveys

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fauveshumankaiju · 5 years ago

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uncle Ni...

He told Ni first.

Actually, he didn’t tell anyone at first. He threw up in the bathroom of the family practice clinic, then sat on the bench in front of the parking lot for an hour before driving to CVS to get mouthwash and splash some water on his face at the drinking fountain outside. After a little bit of vacillating he also grabbed some prenatal vitamins on the way out. If all else failed, he could always take them while not pregnant, after all. Baby vitamins probably wouldn’t hurt adult Rodan.

Then he sat at the beach for another hour, watching the water lap at the sand. It was fall and chilly and overcast, even in Monsuta, which was rarely properly cold.

He thought, for the first time in a while, about his own family. Wondered how they were doing, wherever they were. They didn’t seem to want to have a lot to do with him – he wondered if they would if they knew that he was involved with a foreign billionaire. He wondered if they knew how much he’d changed since he saw them last. Not that he particularly cared to find out.

One hand resting on his stomach, he stared up at the white sky and thought about what kind of a parent he’d make, if he ended up being one. It’d been a month, apparently; he couldn’t remember what he’d done in that past month, but he was a chemist. He handled all kinds of weird teratogens, he’d had a few glasses of wine, he definitely hadn’t taken his prenatal folate supplements. His brain was helpfully providing him with all the weird mutations he’d learned about in his undergrad intro to biochem courses, which really was NOT helping the anxiety. Of course he’d fuck this up before it even started. How was he supposed to know he should be looking out for getting knocked up? He was a man, for god’s sakes, his anatomy was different from most, sure, but he dutifully stuck himself in the ass with a syringe once a month to claim the right to shave, sweat like a stuck hog and, oh, yeah, not get pregnant. Turns out the last purported effect of hormones was false advertising.

After some more staring and shivering in misery, he went home. Home being the Ghidorah’s apartment downtown – at least one of the brothers was bound to be there at any point in time and Rodan had a spare key if they weren’t. Ichi was usually flying around the world or in a conference call; Ni was in and out of town doing his own inscrutable work, but at least San might be there.

I can’t face San, he thought sickly as he locked his bike in the underground garage and keyed in to the elevator. He thought of San’s sharp, gentle face, the boyish joy on it when he found something new and interesting to play with. He would say whatever Rodan wanted him to say - even now that Rodan didn’t know what that would be. He’d bend over backwards to make Rodan happy even if it wasn’t what the Ghidorahs wanted. Rodan would say – “I wanna do this, high speed low drag, let’s have this baby and raise it and be domestic and shit, congrats on your new heir, I guess, I promise I didn’t do this intentionally to trap you and your rich powerful brothers into a relationship with me or something like that,” and San would be game. He could also say “I’m telling you this just to let you know, but there’s no way in hell that I’m gonna let this thing live rent-free in the body I spent my life trying to get, so it’s eviction time.” And San would be game for that, too.

San would be a pretty good dad, Rodan thought. Masochistic tendencies aside he was gentle and attentive to the things he wanted to keep safe. He thought of the Dane bobbing a toddler on his knee while he watched cadaver dissection films and huffed in amusement.

The elevator up to the penthouse apartment had bizarre club-like lighting, low and purple-blue. It stuck out to him right now for some reason. Rodan studied himself in the elevator mirror as it dinged upwards. Small, lean, dressing nicer than he used to in black jeans and a bright button-down but still sporting his old red leather jacket and combat boots. He leaned in closer, staring himself in the eyes, evaluating. The face in the mirror looked back at him, brazen and daring.

30 and still sporting a mohawk. Bitching. Didn’t look like much of a father, though.

Daddy, his mind (un)helpfully supplied.

The elevator opened and he let himself into the one door on the other side of the anteroom. Theirs was the only place on the top floor of the building; it had the best view of the city, the Monsuta bay arcing out into the distance through the floor-to-ceiling windows in the living room, the glinting buildings on view in Ichi’s rarely-used bedroom. Rodan liked the view, but the building itself was always a little cold for his taste.

He kicked off his boots into the hall closet when he got in, jangling his keys as advance warning.

“I’m home!” he called. He’d been out for the past few days and staying overnight at his own apartment, since it was closer to work. San had been bothering him about moving in with them for weeks but Rodan liked to try to preserve this last vestige of independence while he still could – the Ghidorahs were overgenerous with him, but life had always taught Rodan that other people’s kindness came with strings attached.

“On the couch,” Niels called from the long, flat couch in the living room.

Rodan dropped his shopping bag on the counter and joined the middle brother on the couch. Ni was dressed in a devastatingly fashion-forward flightsuit, the top zipped down and tied about his waist over a sleeveless turtleneck. His eyes flicked upwards as Rodan collapsed onto the couch next to him – he didn’t respond, as usual.

“How’s it going?” Rodan ventured. It was hard to tell, with Ni, whether he was in a conversational mood, but it seemed rude not to greet him. Not that the middle Ghidorah ever had any compunction about that.

Ni was on his desk-sized tablet, surrounded by fabric swatches and upholstery books like a king holding a very strange patchwork court. Peeking at the screen on his lap Rodan saw a collage of floor plans and schematics, probably for the Xilien apartment complex that was nearing completion on the south side of Monsuta. Once the building was done, Ni and San would get to work decorating while Ichi took care of the business side of the development business. Ichi didn’t talk about work at home, though, so Rodan’s familiarity with the corporation came mostly from watching Ni fling inspiration images across his tablet screen and fume over comically large paper architecture diagrams.

“Fine,” Ni tapped his pencil against his lips. “We are getting somewhere, finally.”

“Yeah?”

“M-hm. The issue with the climate control – it has all been sorted out. I’m going to start finishing the walls next week.”

“Wow, that’s a quick turnaround time for contracting.”

“Ech, there are only so many painting companies in this town, and they can only refuse so many of our generous offers. Principles, money. No contest.” He sounded satisfied, which explained his unusually effusive mood. After a second, he remembered politeness. “How are you?”

“Pregnant.”

“H-what?”

Rodan tapped himself on the stomach and smiled thinly.

Ni’s eyebrows shot up to his fringe. A moment. He cocked his head owlishly. Rodan pursed his lips and nodded.

“How?”

“Are you asking about the mechanics? Because it’s like-“ Rodan made a circle with one thumb and forefinger and stuck the other pointer finger inside. “-you know..”

“Jesus kristus, stop that!”

“You do know something about sex, right? They had sex ed back in Denmark?”

Ni set his tablet briskly on the coffee table and collected himself for a second. Rodan almost had the good sense to be scared. Ni was normally restrained, cool and aloof, but this wasn’t a normal situation. This was a very Ni-will-lose-his-cool-and-get-real-scary situation.

“They don’t know about it yet,” Rodan supplied quickly. “I don’t know how to tell them. If. I tell them. I don’t need to, I could just take care of it on my own and it won’t be a problem. I thought that one of you should know about it, at least, so you can weigh in on it, since on a molecular level it’s technically genetically your kid too, so you have a say in what happens, and if you’re angry then at least I know Ichi definitely will be to so I can just figure out what to do based on what you do-“

Ni cut him off with a single finger and an icy stare. He’d pushed his sunglasses up to the top of his head after rubbing his face.

“... You talk so much.”

“Yeah, bastard, I’m nervous.”

“You think that we’re going to be unhappy about it.”

Rodan exhaled and settled back into the couch. Damn uncomfortable piece of furniture. “Well, yeah. I’m not exactly-“ he gestured at himself “prime 1-percent relationship material.”

Ni didn’t respond, staring at him.

“Not that I think I’m less than you guys, obviously, it’s just – if you had the choice, you probably would have wanted to be tied down to someone else. Someone you could be seen out with and not worry about what some gossip site would say about you slumming with your trashy American boyfriend. Someone Ichi could take to dinner parties in Europe, someone who could take San out every night when he gets into his weird moods, someone you could trust. And this whole thing is just going to tie you down to me, and then I’m going to…” let you down, he thought lamely.

Ni was still staring at him. Rodan swallowed and looked away with weak finality.

In one swift movement the Dane swung over to the far side of the couch, slamming one leg down over Rodan’s lap to straddle him and planting his hands on his shoulders, pushing him into the couch. Rodan cursed and tried to grab his arms to push him off but he got batted away. Fuck, he forgot how strong Ni was. All that construction and jiu jitsu. Well, if he had to die, this wasn’t the worst way to go, strangled by his lovers’ twin brother.

But Ni wasn’t trying to kill him, at least not right now. In fact, it felt almost like he was trying to be gentle, which felt as unnatural as his attempts at speaking Spanish sounded. His grip was soft as he raised a hand, reaching out to touch Rodan’s face, before deciding against it and resting it on his shoulder again. Rodan let out the breath he was holding.

“If they find out, they are going to do everything in their power to convince you to keep them.”

“Why would they do that?” Rodan breathed. Ichi, he meant. San, he couldn’t imagine having a strong opinion on his potential fatherhood.

“Because they’re our blood,” Ni said slowly, looking down at Rodan’s chest. “The thing that separates us from the rest of the world, those crass dumb creatures that we have to deal with outside, is our blood. It ties us together. It makes us who we are. It’s inescapable and irrefutable. And now you share that blood, too. You and the children you’d have are part of our family no matter what. You understand that, Rodan, yes? You are part of our family now. You are Ghidorah.” He clapped Rodan’s cheeks in his hands, part slap and part affectionate tap, like he always did to San. “If you talk about yourself like you did I’ll get very angry with you. You are Ghidorah. Nobody insults Ghidorah, even a Ghidorah.”

“You’re not… mad?”

Ni shrugged, then made a circle with the fingers of one hand and stuck his other hand’s pointer finger in. “I don’t know what else I expected when this started happening.”

“Yeah, well, my bad. I didn’t do my research.”

“Neither did we.”

“Don’t blame yourself, Ni, you’re, like, 99% not the father.”

“Genetically, you said, I might as well be.”

“Well – yeah, you got me there.” Rodan sighed, feeling himself relax. Then, a little more seriously - “So what do you think I should do?”

Ni looked down at him, arms crossed, his face arranged into a carefully neutral mask. “Do whatever you like. Don’t worry about Ichi and San, though. Your children will want for nothing with us as their fathers. Just don’t tell them about your having them right now unless you’re completely sure you want to have the children.”

“Children?” Rodan scoffed. “Plural? No way in hell I’m doing this again. If I’m doing this at all.”

“Oh, of course,” Ni said casually. “They’re going to be twins, at least.”

“Oh! Are they.”

“Yes. They’re Ghidorah.”

“That’s a pretty bold declaration, Doctor Niels.”

“And mark my words, it’s true. We always come in multiples.” Ni swung off of Rodan’s lap and pushed himself back into his couch corner where he stretched himself over the armrest like a cat. Rodan suddenly missed his weight and the spicy smell of his aftershave and he had to mentally slap himself down when he had the split-second urge to go crawl into Ni’s lap. He might be surprisingly cool with being an uncle, but that didn’t mean that Rodan could push the tenuous peace that he’d been trying to build since they’d met.

He rested his head on the couch and stared up at the ceiling. Uncle Niels. He’d probably give the best presents. Ni was up all night most nights anyway, he could feed the kid if they woke up. Probably not with the rest of the messy childcare business, but Rodan and San could probably take care of that, and Ni might even end up liking the kid once they were old enough to hold a conversation.

Oh, god, here he was thinking like he’d already made some kind of decision. What would Mothra do in this situation? She was the most has-her-shit-together person that he knew. She’d probably make a list of pros and cons, and then Goji would encourage her to stop thinking so hard about it and go with her gut, and then – yeah, not helpful.

Who was he kidding? He was Rodan Rodan. He lived his life on the razor’s edge. He burned down a building and got himself tied up in a relationship with the violent-minded billionaires who owned it. Equations were for the lab, and even then, Rodan did his best work when he forgot about measurements and mathematics and went with his gut. That’s what got him here, a priceless apartment in a beachside city with a job he loved and a life that never stopped being interesting and terrifying and beautiful. With three interesting and terrifying and beautiful partners who might consider staying with him here for a little while.

How do you feel, right now? He asked himself. Ni’s stylus tapped; the heating had turned on. Outside the clouds were boiling but the two of them were safe together, peaceful.

He didn’t know where he’d be in eight months, how he’d feel then, but right now? He smiled. He’d go with his gut.

#pregnancy ment #next time: Ichi has a wholeass breakdown #RODAD!#fauve writes #i just wanted to write some damm daophin backstory #Ni is not the MOST in character but i just drew this out and wanted to get through it! nd on to the good development!#rodorah #ni #writing

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