#How To Stop A Neighbors Cat From Spraying Front Door | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

peterthepark · 3 years ago

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begin again (3)

pairing: tasm!peter parker x f!reader

tags: angst and fluff combo, classic bantering, alcohol, mentions of death and loss, sickness, grief, heart to hearts, tension, mentions of engagements and weddings, 6kish words

summary: you try to return the spider-man polaroids to their owner, but that leads to a ‘not-a-date’ hangout on the fire escape with peter parker and a heartfelt conversation that provides some clarity.

note: grateful for the love on this series!!! i wasnt too sure about this chapter but it is definitely leading to another trope and another direction if you squint really hard in the ending ;)

missing out? ➤ [my masterlist] - [series masterpost]

The thumping against the wall was concerning, really. It was never-ending, nonstop, and you had to admit it was a little suspicious. You weren’t insinuating Peter was having sex. You had already done it once before, and learned your lesson being nosy by finding out he wore Spider-Man boxers to bed. But the muffled noise just would not stop and at this point, it was driving you nuts - Well, Peter Parker always drove you nuts. You stared at the wallpaper, mouth agape as you shared a disgusted look with the stray, gray cat sitting in your lap.

“Ew.” You whispered, hurriedly getting up from the couch.

Peter slowly banged his head against the wall, groaning in pure frustration and riddled by self-sabotaging anxiety. He should’ve never given you those polaroids. What was he even thinking? A disgruntled sound escaped his throat, and he theatrically sobbed into his hands before dragging them down his face.

Peter Parker was such an odd person, but you were so extremely interested in who he really was because sometimes — things didn’t add up. You figured it was your paranoia as a result of the uncertainty that came with having a new neighbor in the complex.

Or maybe Peter was right and that you should’ve cut back on watching those murder mystery podcasts a long time ago.

“Are you alright?” He perked up at the mumble from the other side of the wall, to which he stepped back. “I can hear all that — that banging from here, jesus.” You scoff, pressing your cheek against it.

Why were these walls so fucking thin? Peter thought to himself, as if he hadn't purposefully been banging his head against it for the past twenty minutes trying to will himself out of existence.

It had been almost three days since you found the polaroids, and you still hadn’t done anything with them which was sending Peter into a spiral. In retrospect, it wasn’t that big of a deal — he trusted you to a point, and it wasn’t like you’d be able to figure out his identity based on a masked photo of Spider-Man. But at the same time, how were you holding onto them for so long and hadn’t taken any action to use them for your benefit? He hadn’t realized that you were trying to protect Spider-Man, not that he even needed protecting. But these photos seemed too intimate and too personal for it to be on the front cover of a tabloid or on the newest column of The Daily Bugle. You didn’t have a well-thought out reason as to why you felt the need to keep them a secret, but it felt wrong to publish.

Especially when they were left there for you. It couldn’t have been coincidental. It didn’t make sense, really. Because you knew these pictures would get you a raise — hell, a promotion.

But it could also get you into a whole lot of trouble. The red spray paint on your door still hadn’t come off, and you dreaded having to speak to the landlord about it.

“Earth to Peter? Knock twice if you’re alive.” You teased him.

“I see we’re still doing this whole ‘talking through walls’ thing again,” Peter rolled his eyes. “If you wanna talk to me so badly, why don’t you just go to the front door like normal people do?”

“Because you’ve been avoiding me for like this entire week ever since the Spider-Man thing.” You said nonchalantly. Peter felt guilty, because he was avoiding you and it was a choice he had to make. The tips of his ears turned red, and he covered them as if you could see him. “I’m afraid if I knock, I won’t get an invitation inside.”

He doesn’t miss the shift in your voice. It was softer, almost too soft. Peter instantly felt terrible, but relieved to know that you thought of stepping foot into his apartment.

You thought about him and he liked it.

“You can come over, then.”

The words left his mouth in the gentlest tone. Part of you wished that there was no wall between the two of you, that you could see his facial expression and if he actually meant what he was saying or if he was playing a joke on you. You wanted to see the corner of his lips tug into that goofy smile, the dimples in his cheeks emerging to greet a kind hello to you. You had to admit, in the days that you hadn’t seen Peter, you missed the sound of his voice. You knew he was home, because he was a noisy neighbor. But you missed bantering with him and you missed talking to him, even though you weren’t close.

You missed having someone around.

You questioned if Peter felt lonely sometimes, too. You wondered if he had a person in his life that kept him tethered to reality. Peter was used to being by himself though. It wasn’t so difficult anymore, because on the days he wanted to stay in bed all day and mope about his old life, he’d hear you humming through the walls, he’d hear you singing to yourself as you sweeped the floor, or he’d smell your cooking and the homey cluttering of silverware… it would reroute his entire brain and make him roll out of the unwashed sheets and want him to do something. Like read a book, or get around to folding his clothes, or go to the park and relearn some skateboard tricks.

Jeez, when was the last time he went on a date?

Peter didn’t know it himself, but you inspired him.

He offered you a cup of coffee, accidentally reaching for the Spider-Man mug that he meant to hide away in the kitchen cabinets. You accepted with an excited nod, and he teased you about being a caffeine addict.

“I didn’t take you as someone who drank tea.” You smiled into the mug.

He noticed that you had painted your fingernails. Peter then tried to take in everything he had missed in the three days that he was ignoring you. And he started to realize that maybe he had missed a lot. Was your hair a different color? No, it must’ve been the lighting. Were you wearing gloss? Did you always look this nice with a ponytail? Since when did you start wearing earrings? He noticed the bags under your eyes. Were you sleeping alright? Was he really that loud of a neighbor?

And did your lips always look that soft?

Peter knew you were pretty. But he didn’t think you could be this pretty, especially when you weren’t trying to look good. Maybe you weren’t the most attractive girl out there, but in the sunshine of his apartment, he found raw beauty and for a second, he felt happy.

It made his hands clammy and his stomach churn in a good way. It had been years since he felt that.

He shook his head, shivering at his thoughts. “And I didn’t take you as someone who’d break into their neighbor’s home for a Friday morning coffee when you’re perfectly capable of making it yourself, Y/N. Admit it, you missed me.”

You did.

Nodding slowly, you wagged your finger at him. “Ah, ah, ah. You invited me over. So, technically I didn’t break-in.”

“Ah, ah, ah.” He took to the other side of the kitchen counter, standing across from you sitting on the stool. “Technically, my ass.” He muttered under his breath, opening up a granola bar. He handed it over to you.

“I’m not hungry.” You stared at him with attentive eyes, almost in disbelief.

Peter shook his head in refusal. “Coffee on an empty stomach? You’re insane.” He gestured again to take it from him, and you hesitantly did with a pout.

“I do this all the time.” There’s a pause. “Why are you being so nice?”

Peter glanced at you as if you had offended him. Was he really that mean to you? Even though half of his remarks were witty jokes? You hadn’t really experienced such friendliness in a while. Mostly keeping to yourself, and having a few friends from college, you weren’t used to these kinds of interactions — no matter how small, even if it consisted of granola bars and a Spider-Man mug. Peter brushed over the question, turning on the radio near the TV console. You’d come back to that question later.

It felt cozy. Being in someone else’s space, basking in the little touches of them here and there. In the middle of his apartment, you didn’t feel out of place for a single bit.

You cleared your throat, downing the contents of Peter’s coffee. “Is this about Webster?”

“Webster?” Peter’s face twisted into one of confusion. “Like the dictionary?”

You flashed a toothy smile and took a bite from the energy bar, “No, doofus, the cat.”

“You named the cat Webster?”

“Yes, Peter, I named the cat — There’s that look again! Why do you look like that?” He was scowling. And somehow, you found it endearing. “What is your problem?“

Endearing, not cute. Peter wasn’t cute. Oh, but he was.

“Webster is a two-faced bitch.” You gaped at him, sputtering incoherent words. “Sorry, not very nice of me. Correction, your cat is horrible.”

You exchanged laughter, interrogating him about his sudden disinterest in your new pet. Peter told you a half-truth, saying it was a disturbance to the apartment community.

To which you replied, ‘Then what does that make you?’

He hadn’t laughed that hard in ages.

“Welp, anyways,” You interrupted the flow of the conversation. “I bet you’ve been wondering, ‘Oh, shit. What is Y/N gonna do with the Spider-Man pictures?’” Your hands flew crazily around you, putting on a poor impression of the brunette. You joined him on the couch - the one that you had helped him move - where you both sat on opposite ends.

“Well?”

“I’m just gonna give them back.” You chuckled, running your fingers through your hair to rub your scalp. “Pictures aren’t even that good anyways.”

Damn. Peter held back a scoff. Yeah, right. He knew they were amazing pictures for a fact. Your initial reaction proved it. Were you just trying to seem cool? As if your cheeks hadn’t turned a different color at the sight of the hero.

“I’ve literally asked this before, but how? It’s not like he does meet and greets.”

Maybe he’d make an exception for you. Maybe even send you home with his autograph and one of those collectible bobbleheads. Maybe even take you swinging.

You told him you had a plan. It worried him, because (A) you seemed the type to have the worst planning skills ever and (B) you mentioned that he could come along too if he wanted. And with Peter being Spider-Man, how could he possibly juggle being in two places at once?

“So, I’m thinking tonight. You’ll tag along with me, yeah?” You bit the nail of your thumb to gauge his reaction, but Peter was too focused on overthinking and trying to make sense of your whole plan that he hadn’t even heard what you said.

“Mhm, totally.”

“Thanks, Peter! I gotta go do laundry now. Bye!”

What did he just say? Peter was too late to take back his statement, watching as you ran out of his apartment and turned the hall into yours. He was fucked. How could he be in two places at once? Unless, he didn’t show up at all. But, he would be disappointing you, and he hated that idea to the very core. The real question was whether he wanted to show as Spider-Man or as Peter Parker.

Spider-Man would need to take a raincheck tonight. He’d rather the hero disappoint you than the neighbor.

Wedged between the middle of his sofa was a phone that didn’t belong to him. And surely, he wasn’t the guy on the screensaver - not that he was jealous or anything. Your phone vibrated, and Peter couldn’t help but stare at the screen. His fingers subconsciously ran down the outline of your cheesy smile, before he groaned and forced himself out of his trance.

“You, um, left your phone.” Peter waved the device in his hand, suddenly feeling awkward as he stood at your door.

“Oh, sorry.”

“Boyfriend?” It left his lips like a sputtering engine. Peter’s strucken by his own words, having the audacity to ask about such a personal matter. He didn’t know what he was getting at.

You were confused, eyebrows raised. “Excuse me?”

“Your - the lockscreen.” He scratched the nape of his neck and bit down on his bottom lip.

You shifted on your feet, and Peter noticed how the crack in your door got smaller. “No, uh, he’s just a friend.” You muttered, sounding like you were trying to convince yourself as well. Peter could tell it was a lie based on your body language. The sway in your shoulders, the uncertainty of where to put your hands, the rapid blinking of your eyes like there were tears in them. You were avoiding the question.

Have you lost someone too?

“It’s a nice picture.”

“It is.” There it was again. Peter knew you weren’t obligated to open up to him, especially when you were only neighbors and kind of friends. But it worried him how easy it was for you to switch the dynamic, like you didn’t want to get too close to him. You were just like him, though. And maybe that was what worried him most. “I’ll, uh, see you then? Later?”

“Yeah, where do you want me?”

“I was thinking about the fire escape. You know, bring some blankets. Some snacks.” You tensed. “Like ‘cause — because it’s gonna be cold a-and we’re gonna be out there for a long time… probably.” Peter watched the blood rush to your face, and how your heartbeat immediately picked up as he licked his chapped lips. For once, you sounded nervous and it made Peter smile. “Not a date, by the way. Don’t try anything or I’ll have Webster jump you.”

“Who said it was a date?” He smugly looked down at you, crossing his arms against his chest as he leaned against the wall.

“I… whatever, Peter. Just show up.”

You shut the door on him again, and he laughed to himself as he realized that action has become such a regular thing. Your back rested against the white surface, fingertips digging into your palms as you fought off a smile. You admitted that your excitement stemmed from Peter. Because obviously, spending more time with him meant less time by yourself. And you desperately needed that. You needed human interaction as much as water, and being tucked away in the confines of your living space wasn’t always the best influence.

Peter knew that feeling the most. It was all-consuming, and at times, terribly miserable when you were alone. He missed the feeling of having someone in his bed. Not for those reasons, but because the sensation of laying beside a warm body was unexplainable. The sensation of sleeping next to someone you hopelessly adore, and that high of waking up in love. He tried to remember Gwen, in the sheets, her laugh – but he found himself struggling to picture her in his arms. Almost as if she no longer belonged there. Almost like the empty space was supposed to be filled with something else; perhaps Gwen was a misplaced puzzle piece that did not fit his life. It doesn’t pain him, but just makes him a little melancholic. She was a promise that he never got to fulfill. However, he was thankful though, for the short time they were able to spend together.

Peter tried not to bother you for the rest of the time being. He checked his watch regularly, even though you had agreed on meeting later at ten and it was only the afternoon. The boy frowned, realizing that he had absolutely nothing to do for the whole day. Maybe he’d stop by the store to get some snacks. Maybe get you something along the way. For being neighborly, of course. It was only right of him. He was out the door in seconds, clumsily shoving his keys into the pocket of his sweatshirt.

The store wasn’t too far, just within walking distance. It was an old market, and Peter stuck out like a sore thumb amongst all the elderly people with shopping carts. He doesn’t know what he was looking for — but somehow, he ended up in the pet aisle and picked up a couple cat toys for Webster. And by a couple, he meant ten. His basket was loaded by the time he got to the snack section, and Peter started to randomly throw in a variety of different bags and boxes.

He contemplated which wine bottle to get you, standing in the middle of the aisle like a lost kid. What did you even like? Did you even drink wine? Peter wasn’t familiar with expensive wine, or alcohol at all for that matter, but he did indulge every now and then. With a groan, he grabbed the bottle on the top shelf, deciding on a classic red wine. Or possibly you’d hate it.

At least Webster would like his toys.

Unless that dumb cat would hate it, too.

Peter merely wanted to make a lasting impression, even though you had already gotten off on an odd foot. Because this was the first time you’d be really hanging out — no running into each other on the street or barging into each other’s apartments, but an invitation. Not just from anyone either, but from you. Your own words, in front of his own eyes.

He was sweaty by the time he reached the apartment lobby, barreling through the double doors as he tried to catch up with the open elevator. Thankfully, he was able to easily slip through before it could close. He wasn’t aware of how heavy he was breathing, and he hadn’t realized someone was in the elevator with him as he stared up at the rising floor numbers.

A throat cleared, and Peter’s head snapped towards it. You stood there, clutching your mail as you bounced on the heels of your feet. He waved at you, awkwardly. You stifled a laugh.

“Um,” He gestured at the brown grocery bag. “For tonight.” You peered into the contents, nodding your head approvingly.

“Wine? Thought this wasn’t a date.” You don’t make eye contact, looking straight ahead.

Two could play at that game, Parker.

“It isn’t.” He stared at your reflection in the elevator doors. He glanced at his own as well, stiffening when he saw that his hair was sticking up in the wrong places. “Just two neighbors going to hang out on the fire escape waiting for Spider-Man to show up. Nothing date-ish about that.”

“Yeah, right.” You turned to him. “Did you want me to…”

“If you wanted I could…” You talked over one another, and Peter instantly became red in the face. “Go ahead.”

“Did you want me to cook anything? People say I make a mean spaghetti.”

The brunette smiled, and you did too. “You’re sure this isn’t a date, Y/N?”

“Oh, fuck off. This isn’t Lady and the Tramp.” The elevator stopped at a different floor, and Peter was confused as to why you were getting off when you lived higher up.

“Hey! Wrong floor!”

You tossed a middle finger over your shoulders, “I’m taking the stairs!”

And the elevator went quiet as Peter stood there alone.

You would’ve rode with him back to your floor, but you were feeling warmth in your cheeks and a blossoming, cheesy grin that would not disappear no matter how hard you tried. As you rushed with heavy steps into the stairwell, you couldn’t help but let the giddiness take over you — something that you wouldn’t allow Peter to see.

He was obviously handsome. Correction, hot. If anyone were to disagree, you’d call them blind.

After all, who wouldn’t have been interested in the boy next door?

Especially when said ‘boy’ looked like Peter.

Yes, you had to confess: You had a growing schoolgirl crush on the neighbor.

Peter was fresh out of the shower when he started to feel the nerves kick in. It wasn’t a date. He stared at himself questionably in the foggy mirror, wincing as he dried off his wet hair with another towel. He’d been alone with you many times; this would simply be a walk in Central Park.

Yet, he still checked the medicine cabinet with uncertainty, torn between whether or not hair gel was necessary. He was afraid of messing with his appearance, self-conscious between looking like he was trying too hard, or wasn’t even trying at all. With a frustrated grumble and a mutter of ‘shit’ under his breath, Peter decided against it. He eyed the cologne in the middle row though. A little spritz wouldn’t hurt him. But it does literally, as the cologne was surprisingly, overtly strong and his spidey-senses were going off the rails with the overwhelming scent.

He flinched in disgust as he went through his closet and drawers. Was he supposed to wear something formal? Did he need to look good? How casual was too casual? It wasn’t a date, damn it. He dug out a green parka, throwing it over his henley. Peter settled on ripped jeans, examining himself one more time in the floor-length mirror.

“Be cool.” He pointed at himself. “Totally got this… It’ll be fine. It’s gonna be great, Peter. Gonna be… great.” His painful smile mocked him as he nerdily threw a thumbs-up at his reflection. He groaned outwardly. “God, I’m a loser.”

After several pep-talks and anxious pacing, Peter knocked on your door. He checked himself in the camera of his phone quickly, before putting it away as he heard you moving the deadbolt on the other side.

He put on his best smile, holding the wine bottle and bag of cat toys close to his chest.

“Hey, Pete.” You laughed.

And God, he was suddenly crushing.

This wasn’t a date, yet he could only focus on how stunning you looked. His eyes were drawn to the dampness of your hair and how he could smell your sweet shampoo from where he stood, and how your oversized knit sweater was falling off one of your shoulders, in which he just wanted to reach out and pull it back up to place. You were wearing subtle lipstick, and suddenly the autumn shade was ingrained in his mind.

Maybe a date wasn’t so bad of an assumption.

“Hi, Y/N.”

You opened the door wider, ushering him into your kitchen. He set the wine down on the counter. The room smelled delicious, and then he realized that you actually had cooked for the both of you.

You cooked for him — the cooking that he’d smell through the walls and make his mouth water tastefully.

When was the last time someone had done something like that for him? All this to return photos to Spider-Man? He suddenly felt terrible, having the knowledge that the hero would not show up. Maybe, he could make it work. Just to make you happy.

“Are these for Webster?” You crooned from the living room with a babyish glee, spilling the contents of the bag onto your carpet. The cat cozied up to you instantly, heart melting as Peter leaned over the back of the velvet sofa to take a gander.

“Yeah, figured I’d…” He rubbed at his cheek bashfully, curls falling against his forehead with a rueful sigh. “Make amends with your… vermin.”

You huffed at him, sending a look over your shoulder at the half-baked comment. “Aw, how kind of you.”

He watched carefully as you stood up, padding over to the kitchen to fish out some plates before you’re handing him a generous serving of pasta.

You don’t miss the way his fingers brush over your knuckles. It made you lose all your bearings, and your teeth gritted together at the sensation. You weren’t sure if you were imagining things — or if your tiny crush on Peter was influencing the way you were interacting with him — but his eyes hadn’t left yours in the slightest, and you struggled to hide the blush creeping up your face as you attempted to appear indifferent. Peter recognized that pursed-lip look from anywhere, and how you suddenly found the floorboards interesting as he took the plate from you. His shoulder brushed past yours as he moved to recollect the bottle of wine, and you busied yourself with fetching some glassware for the pair of you. He was making you rather nervous; the neighbor, who he knew as resolute and cocky to a degree, was mousy under his nerdy gaze and his feathery touches that he hadn’t even meant to enact in the first place.

Wordlessly, you pointed to the fire escape with a fork. Peter followed behind you, a cautious hand hovering over the curve of your back as you climbed out the window. The grated flooring was covered by a picnic blanket; Christmas string lights were hung about the fencing, and Peter questioned if those had been there all along. The boy pulled the window shut before Webster could tag along, flaring his nostrils at the cat behind the thick glass before he shifted to sit next to your cross-legged frame. The silence, for once, was comfortable. The quietness and the bits of snow falling from the sky were a conversation in itself; the only words uttered between you and the neighbor were shivering breaths into the cold air. You revelled in the atmosphere, even leaning your head against the brick wall of the building while Peter unknowingly mirrored the movement.

“You think this’ll work?” The boy watched as you poured the wine with a raised brow. “Do you think he’ll come?”

In the light of your eyes, he caught the same childish glint as before. It made him feel bad, but he figured it was for the best; the color of the wine reminded himself of who he was, what he did to people — especially what happened to people close to him.

“I hope so.” Peter reached for the stem of the wine glass, bringing it up to his lips. “Maybe if you put up a sign, he’ll see us.”

You puffed your cheeks in airy amusement. “This feels dumb.” He doesn’t reply, instead offering to pour you another glass that he hadn’t realized you downed in the past couple minutes. “You could’ve easily said a joke there, Parker.”

“Lemme guess…” His knee was propped up, while his forearm rested atop of it. He gazed up at the sky before looking at you. “This isn’t dumb, but maybe you are.”

“Ehhh, close enough. It sounded so much better in my head.”

“Oh, did it now?” Peter lit up.

“I think the delivery was a little off. I wasn’t entirely convinced.” You talked exaggeratedly with your hands, sarcastically poking at Peter. “Speak from the heart. Try again.”

He shifted closer to you, and you could nearly feel his breath fan over your face. Your knees touched, and his shoe accidentally bumped into yours as he stared intently into your eyes. He was about to retry the delivery of his joke, until he became overcome with laughter. He doubled over into his lap unable to breathe; had he been any closer, his head of messy hair would’ve brushed against your thigh. You laughed too, unable to take him seriously with how contagious his boyish grin was.

“You’re an idiot, Peter.” The corners of your lips tugged upwards cheerily.

He doesn’t know what the look that you shared meant, but it made him feel butterflies in the pit of his stomach. Peter doesn’t mind how your knee constantly touches him for the rest of the night. But at some point, the both of you had lost track of how many glasses of wine you’d had, but judging by the red glow of Peter’s face and the cackling that came straight from your belly, it was an unhealthy amount.

“Mhm, yeah. And there was this one time Jameson was even so desperate for content,” You clutched your stomach, snorting at the story. “He literally took to the streets to find Spider-Man. Couldn’t even last an hour before he was spooked! There wasn’t even like criminals, or anything remotely scary! Ugh, god. Such a pussy.” It was like you had said the funniest thing, because Peter drunkenly high-fived you while his hand nestled its place in the empty space beside your thigh. “And then there’s me, who don’t give a single fuck about what time of day it is. I am my own hero, Peter.”

“Tsk, tsk. Brave girl.”

Although you were drunk, the name hadn’t gone unnoticed, and your cheeks heated at the low tone of voice. His lips looked impeccably plump, and you suddenly wondered if it was just the alcohol in your blood system or if you were coming to your senses. Peter found himself thinking the same thing, awed by how your lipstick smudged by the corner of your mouth and endeared by your drunken words.

“Do I have something on my face?” You whispered shyly, reaching up to touch your hot skin.

Peter let out a disgruntled noise as he sat straighter to lean toward you; you would’ve thought he was up to something else had he not assured you. “Lipstick stain. Right here, by your mouth.” His eyes wandered to yours for confirmation as his thumb made contact with the stained skin.

Since when were you so touchy with each other?

Realistically, you wanted to believe it was the wine. But some part of you wished deep-down that Peter was touching you because he really wanted to — not because he was tipsy and clumsy.

His thumb lingered there for a second until Peter forced himself to sober up at the context of the situation. He opened his mouth to apologize, before your phone interrupted him.

Who could possibly be calling you at this time of night?

“Hello?” You slurred, clutching the phone close to your ear. Peter didn’t hear much from the other line except mumbling. “Mmm… doin’ well. Yeah, same old same old. Yes, I’m in New York. Oh. Jersey?” A beat. “Wow, um. Congrats! That’s awesome. Yes, totally.” You eyed Peter, frowning with an open mouth as the person on the other end continued to blabber. “Plus one isn’t necess— yep, okay.” The phone call ended. “They hung up on me.”

“Who was that?” Peter questioned.

“My dumb cousin.” You grimaced, wrapping your arms around your chest. “She’s getting married.”

“Congrats?”

“Hm, I guess.” You blew a strand of hair away from your face. “Gave me a plus-one knowing that I’m fully, very single. Like a bachelorette.”

Peter had let out a breath that he hadn’t known he’d been holding. His shoulders had relaxed, and for some reason he had felt relief. Your phone vibrated again, but you didn’t care to look at the notification — thrown off by your cousin’s sudden announcement. But Peter cared, boring holes into the pixels of the screensaver that left him utterly stumped. You followed his eyes, and your frown deepened as realization washed over you.

“My lockscreen.” You uttered. Peter wasn’t sure if you were speaking to yourself or him, but he figured the latter when you tucked the phone back underneath your thigh like it was too much to look at.

“Who is he?”

You laughed almost coldly, sobering up at the thought. “Mm, ex-boyfriend.”

“Oh.”

“Yep.” Peter didn’t know what to say next, fearful that he’d overstepped by prying. Yet to his surprise, you continued on, puffs of air blowing into the night as you spoke quietly. “It wasn’t a bad breakup or anything crazy like that. Well, we were supposed to get engaged, but he got really sick, that's all. This horrible sickness that was out of our control. No one actually — you don’t ever actually get prepared for that kind of stuff. At least, I wasn’t when he… when Sam passed.” Another sad chuckle left you; a tear threatened to escape, but you harshly swiped it away in hopes that Peter wouldn’t see it. “Sorry, we came out here for Spider-Man, not this. I don’t wanna feed you a sob story.”

“Hey, it’s fine. I lost someone, too.” He watched you purposefully. His heart prickled at the sight of you fighting tears, and he wished he could take that pain away. His body felt heavy. “Gwen. She was my girlfriend.”

“I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be. It was…” His voice cracked subtly. “It was an accident. I loved her. I also wanted to get engaged, but we were just so young. Didn’t seem right yet. She had so much she wanted to accomplish. So smart for her own good. I just didn’t wanna weigh her down with — with me.”

You hummed at that.

“Just two neighbors and their dead exes.”

The brunette couldn’t help but scoff in hilarity at the dark joke.

“Could say that, yeah.”

Peter understood why you were the way you were. Broken, like him, accustomed to loss and hurt and the hopelessness that felt like this neverending rabbithole to nowhere. He understood why you felt the need to be closed-off at times even if you’d fronted vulnerability to him before, because you were scared. You had loved Sam in a similar affliction to how he loved Gwen. Both gone too soon, stripped from each other’s lives like they were so indispensable. Peter no longer felt jealous at the sight of that photo. He felt sorrow memorizing the indents of smile lines on your face and how you were hugging Sam like your life had depended on it. It reminded him of Gwen. He wished that she would have hugged him that hard before she’d passed. Peter couldn’t imagine what it was like to have been given that promise of a new life together, the potential of having a family, building a home — only for it to dissolve at the hands of a funeral. The whitened band around your finger made sense now. It hadn’t been from an odd tan, or the effects of sun damage from walking around the city, it had been from the emptiness that followed your abandoned engagement ring.

“I miss him, sometimes.” You admitted, throat tightening. “I’ve accepted it, but Christ, it’s so hard to forget someone you never got to finish loving.”

“Yeah, I know the feeling.”

You leaned back on your palms, while your fingertips accidentally grazed against Peter’s. His hand inched ever so slightly towards yours, almost unbeknownst to the human eye as he was afraid the touch would scare you even further away.

“I bet Gwen was beautiful.” You turned with a saddened smile.

“And I bet Sam really loved you, Y/N.”

His hand somehow found solace on top of yours. Subconsciously, your pinky fingers entangled together and an understanding exchange of faint smiles followed the movement. You didn’t move it, or tear away from Peter. Instead, you blinked up at the stars in the sky, where Peter realized that he was looking at something even more beautiful than the moon.

“I don’t think he’s gonna show up.” You sighed with exhaustion, tucking the polaroids back into the pocket of your pants. “It’s late. I wouldn’t wanna keep you up.”

“You’re staying?”

“No, I’ll just…” You hesitated. “I’ll catch Spidey another time. A better time. I should head inside, too.”

None of you exchanged a word for the time being, collecting used dishes and the empty wine glasses before climbing back into the shadows of your apartment. The lack of light allowed the midnight sky to illuminate the kitchen, bouncing off of the counter and sink with bluish hues that casted cool tones over your tired bodies. You quietly flicked the faucet on, running the dishes over the warm water.

“Here, I can do them.” Peter whispered, careful not to wake Webster who found the kitchen counter oddly comfortable. His chest pressed against your shoulder as he tried to reach around you; the gesture felt too domestic and too familiar.

“No, it’s okay.” You stood in front of the sink, pushing your weight against it. “Go get some sleep.”

His lips drew into a thin line of concern. “You’re okay, Y/N?”

You stepped to the side, drying your hands with a paper towel. “Always. Are you?”

He shrugged silently. “No, are you trying to get rid of me?”

“Oh, you know me so well, Pete.”

He blushed. “Well, I wouldn’t wanna be bothersome.” There was a small skip in his step as he walked to your front door. “See you.”

Like he anticipated, you called out to him one last time.

“Peter?” He immediately looked to you. His heartbeat raced as you placed your hands on your hips. “By any chance, do you like weddings?”

“Depends on whose wedding — Oh.”

It dawned over him.

“I was thinking if you’d be my plus-one? For my cousin? I… I don’t really have that many friends down here, but you seemed like the best one to pick. I feel like my family wouldn’t really get along with anyone else. I just figured I’d ask you, maybe. Don’t feel obligated to say yes.”

“Ask me again in the morning, Y/N.” Peter had already decided on an answer, but he just wanted to hear it again. “Sweet dreams.”

The front door clicked shut behind Peter. He couldn’t help but lean against it with a huge grin. You called him a friend, not just any friend — but the best one. You had hand-picked him, despite only knowing each other for weeks and it made him feel entirely special. It was like you cured the exhaustion from his body, and he silently pumped his fists like an overtly excited teenager.

Plus-one or not, Peter was enchanted at the idea of spending more time with you.

TAGLIST:

@silverwindptv @kdatthecastle @pufflepride @whatevergea @xthecyber @fandomscombine @carryon-doctor-lock @family-buisnes @hanniebee33

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sweettodo · 4 years ago

Text

Professor ⟿ Hisoka Morow x femreader

Includes : smut, student x teacher

Word count : 2,7k

[STUDENT IS AGED, IN COLLEGE]

••

"Please- please sir, I'll do anything, please don't fail me this semester."

Professor Morow sits in his office chair; hand on his chin as he ponders, he did like the sound of you begging.

••

You could cry.

You could drop out right fucking now. Beyond fed up.

Tutor after tutor, study session after study session since ninth grade never did you any justice, even cheating- peeking over to your neighbors left you with an end result of the huge red D's, F's and C's scribbled onto your paper. You were tearing the hair out of your head.

You couldn't write an English essay even if there was a gun being held to your temple; you weren't necessarily illiterate, but you envied your classmates who could throw together a thesis in an hour lecture, not to mention these giant papers which could've driven you to kill.

Today, bright and early in the morning, here you sit in your English classroom writing a timed essay, an essay about the logistics of capitalism, whatever that meant. Headache booming while you wrote illogical sentences onto lined paper vigorously.

You didn't even bother to read over your work; an hour later you're finally standing up from your seat and shuffling down the row, reaching to drop your paper into the basket, "Miss. Y/l/n, have you looked it over?" Professor asks, you smile and nod, he takes it from you.

"I wrote it sir, I don't need to reread it." You retort, he leans back in his chair and raises an eyebrow at you.

"That's not necessarily what I meant; very well then." He smiles, you go back to your seat and wait for class to be over.

Thirty minutes later, kids are gathering up their bags and papers, scurrying out of the classroom to their next lecture, as you walk out of the double doors into the hallway, your last name is being called and you stop in your tracks, turning around, "yes, Mr. Morow?" You respond, stepping back into the classroom, he stands from his desk, hands patting the black button up as he stands, he waits for you to approach his desk, his arms crossed and he seemed a little irritated.

You approach the front of his desk, nervous, "now, you can't honestly tell me this is your best work." He sighs, you swallow hard, slightly embarrassed, he looked completely unfazed.

"W-well, in my defense Mr-" you stutter, he immediately cuts you off.

"There is no excuse for this lackluster paper." He states, you jump out of your skin, his tone threatening. Everyone always knew not to mess with professor Morow, he was strict and rarely tolerated unprofessionalism. But you- you, always drove him mad, he hated how you acted, he wished he could fail you for the year, being as you were so incompetent.

But that would be immoral or him to stoop that low.

"I should have you rewrite this, do you know how important this is for your grade? Do you want to pass, y/n?" You not, picking at your nails in fear, he was definitely failing you for this semester.

"I'm sorry sir, I try- I really do, it's just I can't bring myself to it." You mumble, head down in total humiliation. "Please- please sir, I'll do anything, please don't fail me this semester." You plead.

Professor Morow sits in his office chair; hand on his chin as he ponders, he did like the sound of you begging.

He sighs and moves towards his bag, opening it and shuffling through papers, pulling out mine, you braced yourself, "you're going to rewrite this, I will swallow my pride and give you a chance, I'd like to see you get higher than a C." He deadpans, you nod, gracious for his generosity.

Handing the essay back to you, "would you like me to do it right now?" You ask, he shakes his head no, closing his bag and picking it up.

"Nope, I'll help you later, you'll have to leave campus for this evening, so clear your schedule." Your eyes widen, he begins walking out, back to you before he peers his head back towards you, "do you want help?"

"Yes, yes sir I do." You sputter, he gives you a half cocked smile.

"That's what I thought." He leaves you breathless as he turns off the lights as he turns the corner out of his class, leaving you there in the barely lit room. You slowly walk out of the empty class, unsure if something like this was even appropriate, 'but it has to be, he's helping you.'

The next few hours would feel like eternity, laying chest up, looking at your ceiling spread eagle bored out of your mind. Waiting for time to pass before you anxiously awaited for later tonight. As you lay there, you hear your phone swoosh, indicating you had just received an email. You sit up and snatch your phone off the bed stand, opening it and seeing an email from the professor.

With an address being the only thing sent to you, you don't bother responding, 'this must be his house,' you spoke out loud, looking at the time on your phone, you might as well get ready, only an hour until you need to leave.

Wearing the same thing you had worn all day, a plain black skirt with a sweater, you just spray perfume over yourself and brush through your hair.

It was only 5pm, but the time of the year brought early darkness; so it was pretty dark by the time you were walking through the parking lot and unlocking your car door. Bag in toe you drive off campus, you scolded yourself for being so, so stupid. How can’t someone write an essay? Not to mention you were at fault for letting it get this bad... a teacher, y/n? A teacher is doing this for you? It was embarrassing.

Soon you're driving up the spiral driveway up towards the large house in your view, nice car in the driveway, lawn well taken care of. It was beautiful. You take off your seatbelt, opening the car door with your bag and keys in hands.

You walk up the path and inhale before you're knocking on the door; waiting a few seconds and the door is opening. Professor Morow allowed you entrance, wearing the same button up and black slacks as earlier in class. We great each other, "follow me, my office is upstairs." He speaks, you follow him up the marble stairs, down the hall and he's opening a beautiful wooden door, a large desk, chairs in front, a couch with a bookcase behind it with stunning red curtains which were closed.

"You have a nice home Mr. Morow, stunning." You breathe, looking around and observing.

"My, well thank you y/n." He hums, sitting in his chair behind the desk, you sit in front of him, taking out your paper along with a notebook and pencil, “I'll have you rewrite, and after each paragraph I'll read it over for you." He says, crossing his leg, you nod.

"I- I wanted to thank you again, for helping me." Yoy mutter, he nods slowly.

"Don't worry, you'll make it up to me." He smirks, motioning to your paper to get you to start; so you do. Starting with your thesis, you spend extra time making sure you think it looked good. You hand it to him and he reads it over, eyes trailing across the page, "not bad, but I know you can write more about the proprieties within some enterprises.” You groaned and quickly started erasing, his hand immediately grabs your wrist, stopping you, “I didn’t say erase it.” He insists, you look up at him, then down at his hand; a big hand wrapped around your wrist obviously didn’t fill your head with appropriate things.

He suddenly stands, walking around the desk and reaches his arm to grab your pencil, his arm flexing next to your head while he rewrites the things you disregarded, your throat hitches, sitting still and tense; intimidated by his cologne aroma and the fact he was inches from you, “what has you so tense?” You internally gasp, heart beating and you see him now standing against his desk to your right. How the fuck could you answer this?

“I-uh, no reason.” You nervously chuckle, he crosses his arms; he didn’t buy it at all.

“Cat got your tongue?” He chuckles, stepping closer to you, you stared up at him, he towered over you, swallowing hard, “no need to be nervous, y/n.” He says. The tension was really thick in the room, you didn’t notice until you found yourself pressing your thighs together for pressure.

“Sir I-” his hand moves, tucking hair behind your ear, instantly silencing you. You’re spinning. Such an authoritative man making you feel small was a new feeling you hadn’t felt before; like you needed to listen to him or else you’d be in some type of trouble.

“I hope you’re paying attention, if you want to do good of course.” He murmurs, dropping his hand back down, you nod slowly, listening to him. “I’ve always known you could be a good girl.” You were stunned, you chewed on the inside of your mouth like crazy as he still stood over you.

“Mr. Morow,” you breathe, nervous, “I need to pass this class.” The desperation in your voice was pitiful, and Hisoka fucking loved it.

He brings his hand up to your jaw, caressing only a little with his thumb, “don’t worry, you’ll get a good grade,” he purrs, thumb running across your bottom lip, agonizingly slow, “open.” Mouth opening immediately. His thumb slides into your mouth and down deeper towards the back of your throat. You look up at him with beady eyes, he licks his lips and smiles.

He pulls out of your mouth, you hesitantly bring your two hands up, lightly touching his belt, his head drops down and he assists you in unbuckling his black leather belt, “my my, such a fast learner, so good.” Your face heats up, fingers working at the zipper of his pants, the tight space was noticeable, the bulge in his pants made you squirm.

Hand grabbing the back of your head, he’s releasing his cock from his open slacks, you braced yourself for the thick and long cock to stab the back of your throat. He holds your hair back out of your face while you’re spitting up the base of his dick, taking the tip between your lips slowly while you looked up at him with those eyes.

Tongue swirling around the tip, his grip tightening on your skull. You push your head further onto him, spit seeping down your chin; taking over, Hisoka pushes your head down all the way to the base, choking and your throat constriction, he groans and pulls you off him quickly, “do you like my cock down your throat princess?” He purrs, index finger lifting up your chin, you nod, he smiles and grabs you from under your shoulder, you stand and he pushes you over the desk, legs locking and you’re held up by your arms.

“Hmm, how about you give me these wrists.” He hums, ripping you off your only stability, side of your face hitting the desk... right on top of your essay. You hear a click followed by another, cold metal now holding your wrists together.

“What, do you just have handcuffs in arms reach for this typa’ thing?” You found it humorous.

Mr. Morow didn’t.

Your skirt flying up, followed by a shard pain on your thigh, you gasp and try to look up; belt in hand, your English professor had whipped you. Hard. Your leg tries to move back but he’s placing his hands on your waist, keeping you still, “tell me, why might your panties be this soaked? I haven’t even touched you.” He had bent down to your ear, vibrations sending you crazy, “do you want me to fuck you? Princess? Fill you up?” You bite down on your lip, he made you tingle just by the sound of his voice.

Another smack of the belt against your ass rings through you and you yelp out in pain, hissing. “Answer me. Go on,” even his soft voice made this sound harsh, you press your forehead against the desk, panting; the pool of wetness most likely slipping down your thighs.

“Fill me up professor, please.” You mewl, he chuckles deeply, the sound of the belt on the floor caused you to sigh out of relief; instead his hands were grabbing your thong, pulling them down slowly and letting them hit your ankles.

“Oh my, so fucking wet.” He hums, pulling apart your ass cheeks to get a better look.

“Sir.” You retort, needy and beyond ready to be fucked at this point.

“Yes?” You tense up, mouth dropping open when you feel his tip stroke up and down your folds, your thighs tremble and shake under his grasp, slowly pushing his throbbing cock into you. You cry out, “use your words, what is it?” He questions you once more.

“So fucking big.” You moan, he pulls your hips further onto his cock; shaping your pussy to his liking, stretching you out and hitting every nerve possible, “oh my god!” His hips finally touching your ass, you twitched and tightened around him, fitting around him accordingly.

“You take my cock so well.” He pulls out, hands tight around your waist as he slowly thrusts you, you gasp and squeal, he didn’t even need to try to hit your gspot. He speeds up, enough to feel that sharp pressure of his head poking at your cervix, his name spilling from your mouth.

“Such a good girl, do you like that?” Ramming into you, your legs wanted to drop as he fucked you numb, his big hand grabs your hair, yanking your head upwards, “answer me.” He grits, you couldn’t, you couldn’t even compose words as he fucked every syllable out of you.

You didn’t answer, he shoves your head down, slamming onto the desk painfully, you wince and he picks up pace, “I told you to answer me,” drilling into you, you’re stomach twisting into a tight knot.

About to reach your hard orgasm, he only fucks harder, screaming out a gasp, “fuck! Your cock feels so good Sir!” You cry.

Your moans and screams were music to his ears, only inching him closer to stuffing you with his kids, “such a good little fruit, you’re sucking me in so good.” He groans, your cum coating his dick, he picked up your arms by the metal chain of the handcuffs, using it as leverage to demolish your insides.

Your wrists sore, makeup dripping down your eyes along with your tears, hair a mess, legs numb and shaking ready to give out, “I’m-I’m gonna cum again!” You wailed, he didn’t change his pace, cock stroking against your sweet spot.

“Do it.” Hips sputtering, only slowing down slightly, you become his cum disposal, dumping his seed into your hot cunt. He’s groaning, panting lightly; throwing your second orgasm into the mix, your slick and his cum pouring down his cock and your thighs, you shook profusely, he massaged your ass with his hands before unlocking the cuffs and pulling you up, dropping to your knees and huffing.

“You took me so well.” He purrs into your ear whilst picking you up by the armpits and placing you in the chair, he wipes under your eyes where most of the mascara was and brushes your hair out of your face, crouching down to your level and pulling your panties over your knees, you lift up a little so he can pull them up completely while watching his every move.

While you composed yourself, he walked back around to his desk, gathering papers together in a stack, “we can finish writing tomorrow, how about that princess?” You smile and nod, relived he wouldn’t put you through the torture tonight.

“Sure,” you say, standing and trying way too hard to walk normally, you pick up your bag and keys, walking towards his office door.

“See you in class tomorrow, professor.”

#hisoka x reader #hisoka smut #hisoka morrow x reader #hunter x hunter #smut #hxh x reader #hxh hisoka #lemon

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iwillsearchtheuniverse4u · 4 years ago

Text

See You In My Dreams, Stranger

Sik-k smut | khh smut

Warnings: SMUT! ORAL! (f and m receiving) PUBLIC? (not really tho)

Preview: Meeting a stranger on my night walk down the river turns out to be one of the best nights of my life.

It was one of those restless nights that I’ve been dreading ever since I started attending university. I couldn’t sleep, the thought of not knowing where my life is headed keeping me awake every single night. I couldn’t concentrate, I couldn’t brush my teeth or remember to drink water, I just felt like existence was so utterly useless when all my dreams have been swept under a rug somewhere because I was too afraid to act upon them. I’d been dreaming of becoming a translator but all the odds of the world were against me so I chose some apparently more ‘useful’ business degree that I hated with all that I had in me. Because of my perfectionism I had been attending all of my online classes and excelling at them but I felt empty, I felt like I had been contributing to everything I hated the most in this society. At the same time I was just too afraid to change my major because I felt like I had to do something impressive to the outside world, something that would make people respect me.

Just another night of endless tossing and turning, tears streaming down my face, wondering if life does ever get better than this. I couldn’t take it anymore. I got up, took a few steps towards the light switch in the corner of my one room apartment and pressed it. The cheap yellow light bulb lit up the room. The floor next to my mattress was covered in books I was trying to study from and my notes covered in smudged ink. I had a bad habit of crying while studying, sleeping, listening to music and showering, every activity that demanded me to be alone in my little space that had never really felt like home at all. Not much else was in that room apart from a small refrigerator, a microwave oven, my mattress, a closet and a wooden bookshelf. I also had a tiny bathroom that always smelled a bit moldy if I forgot to spray the air freshener three times a day.

I decided to go for a walk along the river as it became clear I wasn’t getting a second of sleep in that night. I hastily put on my black leggings and a hoodie with my high school’s logo on it. I desperately needed to get away from my own thoughts so I grabbed my phone and my earphones that were tied into little knots as always. I couldn’t afford the wireless ones because my scholarship was kept safe in my bank account where I was saving every last cent just in case I decided to drop out and go move to...run away to a foreign country where my name sounds like a whisper of the distant wind. As I was locking my door I heard one of the neighbors flush their toilets. Most of them were students like me or people living on part-time jobs, I never really met any of them, they were just familiar faces I would probably forget in a year after moving out.

The streets were quiet, only the sounds of air conditioners and an occasional motorbike or a car passing by me. I checked my phone to see the time, the picture of my favourite singer’s face lighting up my screen: 3.30am. Of course other parts of the city were probably very much alive at this time of the night but my area was populated only by grocery stores, cafes and libraries, not a single club in sight. The only lights I could see where streetlights and some LED signs. I headed towards the river trying to untie my headphones. I put them in my ears and decided to lose myself in the beats of one of those hyped-up rap songs. I put the volume up just so it was a bit uncomfortable and let my ears adjust to the blasting music.

I finally reached the riverside and started walking along the flow of the water. I couldn’t hear it but it still resonated with my mind better than the rustling sound of the city. There was a road along the river that ended somewhere within the green forest because the are was populated with some important bird species that I could never remember the name of. I sat on the bench at the beginning of that forest, my mind still dissolved in the loud beats coming out of my earphones. Even though my ears were covered with a thick layer of my long brown hair I was sure the music could be heard by anyone standing within a 1 meter ratio. I didn't mind, it was 4 am, people were either asleep or sloppily making out in a club somewhere far away. Thinking about the things I was missing out on started to become louder than the music and I let my tears fall. I was overworked, overwhelmed and empty, I couldn't keep it in. Not that I ever tried. I had never been good at hiding my emotions.

Looking at the night view of the city on the other side reflecting on the surface of the river, getting lost in my thoughts, I felt the bench move ever so slightly under my body. I looked to the side and almost fainted at the sight of a dark shadow sitting beside me. My heart started beating and I stood up to leave in case it was a stranger trying to talk to me in the middle of the night. As I took my first step away from the bench the person lightly touched the fabric of my sleeve. I looked back at him. I was certain it was a man judging by his broad shoulders and a black cap on his head. I removed my headphones, my heart still beating as if I had been running for the last 3 hours. "Excuse me. I wasn't trying to bother you or anything. I just like to look at the city at night when my head gets all crowded and I can't think straight. Don't go just because of me." His voice was deep and raspy but had an elegant tone to it, it felt calm but distant as if he had been lost in thought. He was looking at me and the lights of the city were playfully jumping around in his eyes but his expression was the complete opposite. He seemed broken. I couldn’t let myself leave him, partly because he seemed significantly depressed and partly because he was astonishingly beautiful. My feet were unable to move, I stood there for a moment contemplating my options but my gut feeling sat me down next to him.

As we were sitting, each on one side of the bench, looking at the sparkly surface of the river my heart calmed down and minutes passed, none of us speaking, just the sound of the river mixed with my music flowing through the night air. "You were crying." He stated with a regretful tone, almost whispering. My cheeks flushed with warmth, I looked at his profile, him still staring at the waves. "I just thought I was alo-" "Don't. Feelings aren't something to be ashamed of. They're just as much a part of you as your legs and arms are. If people feel burdened it's usually their problem because they've never been faced by their own emotions. They just don't know how to act and feel uncomfortable." He talked slowly and didn't bother looking at me. It felt like his words were directed at the universe or at himself just at the general direction he was speaking, he looked so lost. I didn't notice I was staring until he looked at my eyes and smiled. It was one of those crooked smiles, filled with a certain type of worry I couldn't identify. "You can tell me why you were crying. I probably won't remember tomorrow anyway. I can lend you my ears for tonight, maybe I'll forget all about my own problems." His gaze moved back to the view as he sat back and crossed his arms on his chest. At that moment I felt like telling him every little thing about my life. It had been so long since I had anyone who would just listen without the constant urge to solve my problems but just LISTEN. I stopped myself. "I won't let you get off the hook that easy. I have a feeling that you're the one not facing your own problems. Why don't you lean on someone for a change?" I said, determined to make him speak. He looked at me from the side and his head slowly followed his gaze, his eyebrows furrowing just so much I could notice. The anticipation of hearing his raspy voice that felt so familiar and kind made me turn off my music. This man that sat next to me just a moment ago suddenly awakened my curiosity. It took a while for him to speak as we were maintaining a really intense eye contact for what felt as hours. I was able to inspect every milimeter of his dark cat-like eyes. "You're good at reading people, I'll give you that." He smiled and turned back to face the view. "I'm just under a lot of pressure. People expect a lot from me, that's all...and sometimes it can get really frustrating when I can't really reach those expectations. Sometimes it feels like there are so many people doing my thing better than me, it scares me." He put his hands in the pockets of his black sweater still staring at something in the distance. I wasn't sure what to say but he also didn't expect me to say anything. He needed someone to listen and I was there to supply. I asked: "And what would your 'thing' be exactly?" in an effort to get to know more about this mysterious creature in front of me. "Music. I make music for a living." His eyes now focused on his shoes while he bit his lips in an effort not to smile. I finally realized why his voice sounded so familiar, it was freaking Kwon Minsik, Sik-k, Korea's best rapper, sitting next to me staring at the Han river. My hand automatically covered my mouth as I inhaled. I was trying to calm myself down. He probably heard my playlist which was full of his songs and it made me feel so embarrassed, my cheeks flushing with heat again. He tried really hard to hide his cocky smile as he turned his face away from me, looking into the woods on the other side. After a few minutes he asked: "So now are you going to tell me why you were crying?" He was facing me, looking at my eyes attentively like a little boy waiting for instructions from his teacher. I was still to shy to maintain eye contact so I looked at my hands on my lap. I told him my story about how lost and useless I felt in life. I told him about feeling lonely and scared about my future. I told him everything.

Before I knew it tears started to emerge from my eyes again and I tried really hard not to look at Minsik who was still facing me, one of his arms resting on the back of the bench. I cracked. I cracked in front of a man I respected the most. It was embarrassing but also liberating, I was done trying to impress the world. I dropped my head, defeated. Next thing I felt was his warm hand on my cheek, gently wiping the trail of my tears. I froze for a bit, my eyes widening at the sudden proximity of his body. I didn't even notice him getting closer before he put his hand on my face. He was sitting right next to me, the sides of our thighs touching ever so slightly. I could hear my heart rate getting faster and louder. As much as I wanted to, I couldn’t control it. I looked at him and he removed his hand, still looking at me with his furrowed eyebrows, a concerned expression drawing on his face. "I'm sorry. You probably think I'm just being childish, crying at something as trivial as my major." I said with a shaky voice. "Don't ever say sorry for your feelings ever again, you hear me? And besides, I don't think it's stupid, I think it's just very important to you. You want to set goals for yourself but you're too afraid that you're not going to reach them so you just let them go. I would obviously tell you to go for what feels right and figure it out but that won't make you feel secure and I bet a lot of other people in your life told you this before." He replied with his deep raspy voice that I loved so much. He was so close. I could feel every breath on the surface of my cheek, his left arm was lying behind me on the back of the bench, it was almost like a hug. I couldn’t think straight anymore, my thoughts were intertwined with the smell of his cologne and the heat of his body so close to mine. He didn't feel like a stranger, he felt like someone who'd known me for years. I buried my face into my hands so I wouldn't make any thoughtless mistakes. Suddenly, he moved away from me, I couldn’t feel the proximity of his body anymore, the cold night air embracing my whole being. I peeked up from my palms. He was still looking at me with concern in his eyes, saying: "Sorry, I probably got too close for comfort, I'm not used to this kind of emotional thing, you know?" I felt a desperate need for physical touch, maybe it was the cold air, the anxiety or his perfect stature or maybe it was a mix of both but I straightened my back and looked directly into his eyes. It was so unlike me to be this bold but my body automatically moved closer to his.

He didn't move even when my face was only ten centimeters away from his. His expression changed, his forehead relaxing, his eyelids closing halfway when I suddenly felt his hand on my thigh. He grabbed onto it like he was holding on for his dear life and it made me want him more. I stopped, looking down at his lips when he pulled himself closer. His smooth lips crashing into mine made me lean back but he was only getting closer until he pinned me to the wooden bench beneath us. It was a passionate kiss, his hands didn't limit themselves to my thighs but discovered the hot surface of my skin under my hoodie. I felt a certain kind of euphoria, the kind you only get to experience when you do something completely out of character for you but turns out to be the best thing you could have possibly done.

As our kiss was getting more heated and his hands were groping my breasts for a couple of minutes the heat between my legs was getting unbearable. I could feel one of his hands roam down to my thigh and up to my ass where he got the grip to grind against me. Our lips and tounges still inseparable, I played along and grinded my heat against his growing buldge until I heard his raspy growls which sent shivers down my spine. As our tempo aligned we started breathing heavily and his lips left mine but relocated to my neck, definitely leaving more than just the incredibly pleasing pain. There was only a couple of pieces of clothing seperating us but the longing was excruciating. I started tugging on the collar of his black hoodie, trying to stop him as his lips attacked my collarbone. "Stop...I can'...I can't take it." I said with a soft voice in between my moans. His hips stopped moving immediately and he pushed himself above me so we were looking face to face, his body still on top of me. The loss of friction left me feeling needy. "Are you okay? I didn't mean to be this fast, I just thought-" I got up and laid a small kiss on his lips mid-sentence. "Come to my place." I whispered in his ear. I hadn't gotten to know this part of me before but that night felt different. Maybe it was the stream of emotions I had just shared with this stranger on top of me or the tone of his voice or the feeling of the cold night breeze but I didn't want to spend this morning alone.

When we finally arrived at my door he was standing so close to me I almost held my breath trying to get myself to collect my thoughts. I swear I could hear his heartbeat like it was my own, his lips suddenly tracing the curve of my neck as I was trying to insert the right passcode. I couldn’t even focus in my own hands as his were holding me around the waist so it took me a few moments to find the right digits. When the holy sound of the door lock unlocking echoed in the hallway he already pressed the knob in a hurry and pushed me inside. Because my one room apartment was so small it only took our intertwined bodies a solid 30 seconds to hit the mattress. He was planting sloppy kisses down my collar bone as I was tugging at his hoodie, trying to set him free of it. He stopped for a moment only to get up and remove it. The moonlight from outside my small window caressing his elegant body, lighting him up from the back like he was some beastly creature of the night taking advantage of my sadness. I couldn’t move, he was sitting on top of me, his face was covered in darkness but I knew he was watching me. "Do you have any idea how freaking beautiful you look in this light?" His raspy whisper made me quiver. I smiled and looked away while my body was hungry for his touch. I wasn't ready to show it.

He slowly got up with his hands trailing the shape of my thighs until he was holding me behind the knees, still looking at me. I felt his hands pull my leggings of as if it was the easiest thing in the whole entire world. He then proceeded to playfully pull at my panties, rubbed my knot and lowered his face to blow at my growing heat, my legs almost immediately trying to close at the sudden pleasure. He held them open while licking my folds twice, trying to see my reaction. I couldn’t hold in my moans and my spine curved in-synch with my breathing. It was something I haven't felt in forever, not like this, not this strong. I grabbed onto his hair and he seemed to read the ques as he got rid of the piece of fabric. His tounge was doing circles around my clit making me see fireworks and probably tugging at his hair with both hands so much that his scalp was in pain. He got me shaking in a matter of minutes and it was the best high I've ever experienced, sending all kinds of shivers down my skin, leaving me panting. He was far from done though.

"You taste so good, baby girl," he said unknowing of the affect it had on me. I got up to unzip his pants (which he more than willingly helped me with). I traced my fingers down his perfect abs to the hem of his boxers and lower, tracing his hard member while inspecting his face. As soon as I grabbed it through the fabric with my whole hand his eyelids shut closed and his head fell back in pleasure. I pulled him to the mattress and got on top of him trying to grind at his boxers, making them soaking wet. Then I got up to remove the rest of his clothing. I proceeded to trace my tounge along his shaft and sucking on his member, enjoying his growls. His hands were grabbing the sheets and the veins on his forearms and neck were starting to protrude. Every now and then a soft "fuck~" escaped his mouth, motivating me to keep going. Then he suddenly stopped me, saying: "I need to come inside of you, grab my wallet." Instead, I got up to open one of my drawers where I was saving a pack of condoms, praying they would fit him. I handed one to him and he was so quick about it, it got me thinking just how many girls he gets to play around with like this every night. The thought escaped my mind when he stood up to hold me around the waist, slowly pulling me back to bed with him. He undressed me, pulling my hoodie over my head only to discover I wasn't wearing a bra underneath. His dark eyes glowed with passion as he greabbed one of my nipples, tugging at it while kissing me sloppily. He threw me on the mattress and got on top of me. My body was heated up completely, I couldn’t even feel the night breeze coming from the opened window. He licked my sensitive nipples a few more times before aligning himself with my entrance and pushing inside of me. The fireworks from before were nothing compared to the utter pleasure I felt at that exact moment, Sik-k filling me up perfectly. My head fell back in moans and my back curved up again. I could have sworn I saw stars playing in the darkness of my eyelids. All I heard him say was: "Fuck..." He took his time waiting for me to adjust and started to quicken his pace while adjusting the angle. One of his hands was stroking my stomach and the other was holding onto my ass. I tried to mimic his movements, increasing the fraction of our bodies. The moans escaping our mouths felt so unholy they made it even more passionate. "I'm going to- I'm close!" I squealed throught the moans which made him go even harder and faster. My whole body tensed up and I grabbed onto the bedsheets pulling them off. His dick was starting to twitch inside of me, hitting all the right spots and I knew he was trying his best to make me come first which was a rare experience. I opened my eyes seeing him focused on me with his furrowed eyebrows, sweat dripping down the side of his jawline. My body was caught up in a wave of shivers, the walls of my pussy tightening so much it got him shaking as well. We were both just trying to ride out our highs with the last strenght we had. It was sweaty and suffocating but liberating at the same time, all of our thoughts disappearing for these unthinkable moments of pleasure. His hot body collapsed on top of me, both of us trying to catch our breaths again. "This was amazing." I told him in between breaths. He rolled over me to remove the condom and, to my surprise, came right back to lie beside me, his arms hugging me from behind. He kissed my neck and whispered in my ear: "See you in my dreams, stranger."

#sik-k #minsik #khh #fanfiction #sik-k fanfiction #khh fanfiction #korean hip hop #khiphop #kwon minsik #korean #권민식 #민식 #식케이

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purrincess-chat · 4 years ago

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My Chosen’s Keeper CH3 (FINAL)

Here is the last chapter of the petty kwami AU. I have basically this whole week off because of Hurricane Sally, so I decided to go ahead and post the last chapter since I finished it up. I’m so happy you all enjoy this fic, and I hope you like the conclusion!

Read on AO3

Chapter 3

After a week, Lila stopped scheming against Marinette. In fact, she’d stopped doing much of anything. Every so often she’d look over her shoulder as if expecting someone to be following her, and she flinched every time she opened her locker or her bag.

Tikki was satisfied enough with their efforts, though she worried they’d gone too far when Lila spun around on poor Nathaniel walking behind her to his seat. Her goal was to inconvenience Lila, not scare her out of her skin, and now her stomach was churning too much to enjoy her morning macaron. She popped into Adrien’s bag where Plagg was dozing in an empty Camembert carton and shook him awake.

“Plagg, do you think maybe we went too far with all of this?” She asked, but Plagg simply shrugged his shoulders and burped.

“Relax, sugar cube. That girl got what was coming to her.”

“Yeah, but she’s petrified now, and people are starting to notice,” she said with a nervous glance up at the open zipper. “I think we should stop.”

“Fine,” Plagg yawned, and Tikki prodded his side.

“I’m serious, Plagg. No more pranks.”

“Okay,” he said, and she sat back, antenna pressing low against her head.

“Good,” she said with a nod.

As the bell rang, Tikki slipped back into Marinette’s bag before her owner noticed her absence. She tried to push the whole situation from her mind, but when Alya leaned against Marinette’s neighboring locker, her nerves only worsened.

“Lila’s been acting super paranoid today. I wonder what’s bugging her,” Alya whispered, casting a glance at their classmate across the room.

“Nathaniel told me she thinks she’s being haunted,” Marinette said. Even she seemed concerned, and Tikki shrank deeper into her purse.

“I mean, a lot of crazy stuff has been happening to her, so maybe she is,” Alya said with a wince.

“I wouldn’t doubt if she’d made a spirit angry,” Marinette mumbled, and Alya leaned in closer.

“What?”

“Nothing.”

“I feel kinda bad for her. I saw her dozing off in class earlier. She must not be sleeping,” Alya said, biting her lip. “Hey, why don’t we all plan a sleepover? Maybe if a group of us supports her then she’ll feel safe enough to sleep.”

“Uhh, yeah, sure,” Marinette said, sounding anything but willing. “You plan it, and I will definitely not think of an excuse not to go.”

“I’ll ask her this afternoon. It’ll be fun.” Alya nudged her with her elbow before they headed to their next class.

To Tikki’s horror, not only did Lila accept the sleepover invitation, but somehow, she managed to convince them to host it at Marinette’s house. Lila had a way of backing people into corners, and Marinette didn’t really have a choice in the matter. Tikki was equally as unenthused. Just what she needed—another reason to get involved.

“Plagg, what am I gonna do?” Tikki asked that afternoon in art class. “I know she’s up to something!”

“Do you want me to leave stinky cheese in her locker again?”

“No!”

“Good because it’s a terrible waste of perfectly good cheese.”

“Plagg! I’m serious. What if Lila does something to my owner tonight?” Tikki said, tugging his arm. “Help me!”

“I thought you wanted to be done with all of this? No more pranks?” Plagg said, and Tikki averted her gaze, antenna lowering.

“I do, but she’s coming into her personal home. What if she finds her diary and learns that she’s Ladybug? Or what if she just so happens to steal her earrings? Or what if-”

“Don’t worry, sugar cube. I’ll help you tonight. Lila won’t get away with anything, okay?” Plagg said, patting her head.

“You mean it?”

“Have I ever lied to you?” Plagg asked, and Tikki’s eyes narrowed. “Okay, bad question. I promise I won’t let you down—this time.”

“Thanks, Plagg.”

Later that evening, Tikki chewed her lip as Marinette tidied up for her guests. She’d helped remove any lingering Adrien pictures despite her friends all knowing about her crush, but Marinette was just as wary of having Lila over as Tikki. As a result, she was taking a few extra precautions like hiding her diary and anything else Lila could use against her. It eased some of Tikki’s worry, but not all of it.

“Are you really going to have that girl over?” She asked as Marinette locked her important belongings in her chest.

“I couldn’t exactly say no. Lila is too good at manipulating everyone. If I had said no, she would have made it seem like I hate her,” Marinette said, leaning against her fist.

“But you do hate her.”

“Yeah, but I can’t prove why I hate her to everyone, so I don’t have a choice,” Marinette sighed. “We’ll just have to be extra careful tonight. I doubt Lila will try anything with all of the girls over.”

“Yeah. Hopefully.”

Thankfully Alya arrived first to help set up because Lila was the first after her. She seemed surprised and slightly annoyed to find Alya there as well, and Tikki’s blood boiled at the sight of her. She popped up to the roof, tapping her paws together as she peered out over the street. The night was calm and quiet—a direct contrast to the storm brewing inside her. Where was Plagg?

“Ya know, you really worry too much.”

She spun around to see him lounging on the chair with a cheese danish from the bakery. Relief flooded her mind, but it was quickly replaced by annoyance. “Where have you been?”

“Relax, sugar cube. I was doing some important reconnaissance,” he said around a mouthful.

“You mean helping yourself to whatever your greedy stomach wanted?” She crossed her arms over her chest. “You are so selfish!”

“Oh, then I suppose you already know that Lila has a lockpick in her bag?”

“She- you- oh…Well, then we should-”

“Already did. And her toothbrush just for fun,” he snickered, and Tikki lowered onto the chair beside him. “I’m a little insulted that you don’t believe in me.”

“Dinosaurs, Atlantis, the Black Plague…”

Plagg bit off a chunk of his pastry and chewed it grumpily. “We never talk about your mistakes.”

“Thank you, Plagg,” Tikki said, and he blinked, swallowing the rest of the danish whole. “For everything.”

“Yeah, yeah, don’t get all sappy on me.” He turned his back to her and waved it away, but she could see the smile tugging on his lips. “Now come on. We’ve got work to do.”

The girls were gathered in Marinette’s room when Tikki and Plagg snuck in and took position on Marinette’s bed. Marinette had strategically positioned herself on top of her locked chest, and partnered with Plagg’s disposal of Lila’s lock pick, it eased some of Tikki’s nerves. At least her secrets would be safe, but that didn’t mean Lila didn’t have other tricks up her sleeve.

After a while, they moved downstairs to watch a movie, and Mr. Dupain brought up homemade pizza. Plagg groaned beside her as the girls pulled apart stretchy strips of cheese, and Tikki restrained him from flying down and helping himself.

Halfway through the movie, Lila got up to go to the bathroom, and Tikki followed. Just as she feared, the moment the door closed, Lila set to work silently opening cabinets. Tikki had half a mind to spray her with the sink nozzle again, but after a few minutes of searching, Lila found what she was looking for—a metal nail file. She pulled a bobby pin from her hair and tucked them both into her pocket.

Back out in the main room, she announced that she was going to go upstairs and call her mom who was traveling overseas on some important ambassador thing, and she only had a short window in the evening to talk to her because of timezones or something. It didn’t matter the reason because it was a lie. Marinette’s glare followed her up the stairs with Tikki right behind it.

“Plagg?” She hissed, glancing around for that lazy black cat, but she didn’t have to guess where he was. “I told you not to touch the pizza!”

Plagg clung to the piece he was greedily stuffing in his mouth as Tikki tugged on his tail. “Oh come on! Mr. Dupain makes his own mozzarella. I couldn’t resist!”

“Lila is on the move! She took a nail file from the bathroom, and now she’s upstairs! Come on!”

Plagg caressed his slice of pizza one last time before Tikki dragged him up the stairs. Lila was already kneeling beside the chest, nail file and bobby pin at work.

“Come on, stupid chest. I know Marinette is behind all of the weird stuff happening to me lately,” she grumbled. “I just need something to blackmail her with to make it all stop. Just open!”

“Plagg, what are we gonna do?” Tikki whispered, and Plagg was already surveying the rest of the room.

“Follow my lead,” he said, darting for the nearest mannequin.

Lila nearly had the lock open when a stack of shoeboxes toppled over, and she jumped. Seeing that it was only boxes, she took a deep breath and turned back to her work.

“What?” She gasped when her makeshift lock picks were no where to be found.

“Lila…”

She startled, jumping up and spinning around, but no one was in the room. No one she could see anyway.

“Liiiila…”

“Very funny, Marinette. I know it’s you. It’s been you the whole time. I don’t know how, but you won’t beat me,” she said, but the way her eyes flicked frantically around the room betrayed her true fear.

“Leave her alone…”

The mannequin by the chaise, surged forward, and Lila’s scream filled the house. She scrambled for the trapdoor, but it wouldn’t budge no matter how hard she tugged. The girls rushed up the stairs, Marinette at the front. She pushed the trapdoor open easily to find Lila curled into a ball on the floor, tears streaming down her face.

“What are you doing?” Marinette demanded, and Alya crawled up to wrap an arm around Lila’s shoulders.

“The mannequin!” Lila wailed.

“What about it?” Marinette asked.

“It-It talked and moved and-and-” She pointed across the room, but the mannequin had returned to its original place. Even the shoeboxes had righted themselves. “But…”

“Maybe we should all just go to bed,” Alya suggested, and Lila grabbed her shoulders.

“But it did move! I swear I’m not making it up,” she said, gripping her shirt so tightly that Alya swatted her hands away with a hiss.

“I think you’re just tired-”

“Or crazy,” Marinette mumbled, masking it with a cough.

“Sleep deprivation can make you see weird things,” Alya said. “Come on. Let’s get you some sleep.”

As the girls moved downstairs again, Marinette eyed her chest, but her secrets were safe. Tikki still stayed up all night to make sure Lila didn’t try anything again, but their ghost stunt seemed to have scared her off the idea.

When morning light streamed in from the windows, Tikki sat back with a yawn. Curling in next to Plagg snoring loudly on Marinette’s chaise, she slipped off into sleep with the reassurance that Marinette was safe.

***

The Monday after the sleepover, Lila entered the school on a quest for vengeance. Dark bags hung under blood-shot eyes, and her whole demeanor was slightly unhinged as everyone hung out in the courtyard on break. Tikki knew she was going to target Marinette again, so she lingered close by—waiting.

Marinette was sketching on a bench by herself while a maintenance man repainted the railing to her left. When he reached a stopping point, he scooted the ladder next to the bench and took his break, but Marinette never looked up from her drawing.

“Hey, I heard about the sleepover. What happened?” Adrien materialized at Marinette’s side, startling her out of her skin. “Sorry.”

“It’s okay.” Marinette relaxed. “I don’t know. I knew she was up to no good, and while we were all watching a movie, she went up to my room to ‘call her mom’ then she just started screaming and freaking out,” Marinette said, shooting her a glare across the courtyard. “I don’t really know what happened, but she swears my mannequin talked to her.”

“Do you think she’s doing it all for attention?” Adrien asked, but Marinette pursed her lips.

“I don’t think so this time. She seemed really freaked out when we found her. I think she’s actually losing her mind,” Marinette said.

“You don’t think she’s really being haunted, do you?” Adrien’s green eyes clouded with worry.

“I don’t know,” Marinette said with a shrug. “Maybe she is making it all up for attention, or maybe all of her lying is finally catching up to her.”

“Let’s hope this convinces her to start telling the truth whatever it is,” he said. “I’m just glad she didn’t do anything to you. I was worried when I heard she was coming to your house for a sleepover.”

Marinette’s cheeks flushed at that, and she took her eyes off Lila. Adrien was the perfect distraction, but Tikki wasn’t so easily deterred because Lila was watching them too. Their friendly smiles and close proximity drove her over the edge. When she dashed toward them, Tikki braced herself, but Lila wasn’t aiming for the bench.

Tikki glanced up at the paint can resting precariously on the top of the ladder beside them, recognizing the intent in Lila’s eyes.

“Oh no you don’t,” she said, flitting up to the bucket.

Lila rocked the ladder, but against the laws of natural physics, the can twirled around and dumped on top of her. The courtyard fell silent as the can clattered to the ground, and Lila wiped green paint from her face.

“That’s it!” She screeched, pointing a finger at Marinette. “This is all your fault!”

“Lila, Marinette didn’t do anything. I was talking to her the whole time,” Adrien said, holding up cautioning hands.

“No! Everything is her fault!” Lila stomped a foot. “I don’t know how you keep doing it, but I know it’s you!”

“Lila, what are you-” Alya started, but Lila lunging at Marinette cut her off. Nino and Ivan caught her, and Adrien took a defensive stance in front of Marinette.

“How did you do it, Marinette?” She growled. “I put those test answers in your schoolbag, but they weren’t there when Mlle. Bustier checked! I planted my necklace in your locker during lunch, but somehow you put it back! How did you do it?”

Marinette and Adrien cupped hands over their mouths as the weight of those words settled among their classmates. Confusion and anger snaked its way onto every face, and more classmates joined Adrien guarding Marinette.

“Wait, you tried to frame Marinette? But why?” Nathaniel asked, and Lila shot him a glare.

“Because I hate her! She’s always getting in my way and ruining my plans. I’d have you all eating out of the palm of my hand if it wasn’t for her!” She said, shoulders heaving. She ripped away from Nino and Ivan and kicked the paint bucket with a shriek.

“Whoa, so all those times Marinette said you were lying…” Nino said, lowering his gaze.

“She was right,” Adrien spoke up, and all eyes turned to him. “Lila is a liar. Nothing she’s ever said is true. She just wanted to use all of you for attention.”

“So, you’ve never met Jagged Stone?” Rose deflated.

“And let me guess. You’re not really bffs with Ladybug,” Alya said, crossing her arms over her chest.

“Of course I’m not friends with that stupid insect! I hope Hawkmoth takes her Miraculous and rids the world of her stupid face!” Lila shouted.

“What’s going on here?” Mr. Damocles demanded as he and Mlle. Bustier approached.

“Karma,” Marinette said with a grunt.

Lila glanced between each face glaring back at her, the rage-induced fog clearing enough for her to see the damage she’d inflicted. Her eyes widened, and her shoulders shrank. For the first time since she’d stepped foot in their school, Lila was exposed. Powerless. Small.

“My office. Now.” Mr. Damocles barked through gritted teeth, and Lila followed behind him quietly. She had nothing left to say. No more lies to tell.

“M, are you okay?” Alya pulled her best friend in for a tight hug. “I’m so sorry I never believed you.”

“Yeah, we should have known better. You never trip out over anyone unless there’s a reason,” Nino said, ruffling her hair.

“We’re sorry, Marinette.”

“Yeah, we shouldn’t have doubted you.”

“It’s fine,” Marinette said, cutting everyone off. “Really. I’m not mad at you. Lila manipulated all of you. It’s not your fault she can’t tell the truth.”

“Marinette…” Alya cooed, and all of their classmates huddled around her.

When the bell rang, they all dispersed, heading to their next class, but Marinette excused herself to the bathroom. Tikki slipped back into her purse, relieved that it was finally over and that she hadn’t been caught. Or rather, she thought she hadn’t been caught until Marinette ripped open her purse and dumped her out into her waiting hand.

“I thought kwamis weren’t supposed to meddle,” she said, quirking a brow, and Tikki shrank guiltily.

“I’m sorry, Marinette! I just knew she was up to no good, and I couldn’t let her frame you,” she said, pressing her paws together.

“Putting the test answers back and moving the necklace are like you, but exploding milk cartons and mannequin ghosts?” Marinette cocked a hip. “Plagg, I know you helped too.”

A sinister chortle echoed above them as Plagg floated down beside Tikki. “I couldn’t let sugar cube have all the fun.”

“We’re really sorry,” Tikki said, lowering her head.

She braced for her punishment, but instead, Marinette lifted the two of them to her lips and planted a soft kiss on each of their heads. “Thanks, you two.”

“You mean you’re not mad?”

“Nah, Lila deserved it,” she said with a shrug.

“I’ll accept my reward in the form of one of those tasty cheese danishes your dad makes,” Plagg said, puffing his chest out, and Marinette scratched under his chin with a giggle.

“You can have all the cheese danishes you want,” she said. “It’s nice to know you two have my back.”

“Of course,” Plagg said, draping an arm over Tikki’s shoulders. “If someone wants to mess with the Bug, they’re gonna have to go through us.”

“We’ll always make sure you’re safe,” Tikki added, and Marinette held out a pink with a smile.

“Bien Joué!”

#miraculous ladybug #tikki #plagg #marinette dupain-cheng #lila salt #petty kwami au #my writing #uninteresting tidbit #chapter 1 was 1k chapter 2 was 2k and now chapter 3 is 3k #this was unintentional but i find it amusing #anyway #enjoy #hiatus cat

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mandos-lightningbeforethunder · 4 years ago

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Start Again - Chapter Seven (Din Djarin x Reader)

SUMMARY: After being ambushed by the pair of Devaronians, you and the Mandalorian make the decision to expedite your journey into the city of Opseg. Upon your arrival, the city and its people welcome you with open arms and you find out more about what the Empire did to you while in their custody.

CHAPTER WARNINGS: mentions of attack from the previous chapter, panic attacks, medical procedures including sedation, and VERY heavy discussion of forced sterilization.

Author’s Note: This is my longest chapter yet at 3.2k words! I hope you enjoy this latest chapter and I hope I can be back on my regular update schedule. Feel free to reblog and like!

CHAPTER SEVEN - THE DIAGNOSIS

Trekking through the canyon might’ve been easier if you didn’t have such a debilitating headache. The bacta patch had healed the wound in your hairline, but your eye was still swelling and your head ached in a way that you hadn’t felt in months. In the back of your mind, a part of you really wished you had the Puvion leaves to alleviate the headache. The leaves had always worked better than any bacta spray or patch.

Your heart still raced at the thought of what happened earlier in the morning. Waking up to two Devaronians sniffing around your camp wasn’t exactly what you had in mind of a good morning. When they noticed you were awake, there was zero hesitation to take you out. They had even managed to do so quietly enough that it didn’t wake the Mandalorian.

The swelling at your eye aches as a reminder of how quickly they had managed to take you down. Your lack of training had made it easy, before you could even swing up your knife to defend yourself, the one Devaronian, Zek, punched you hard enough for you to see stars. There wasn’t much fight left in you after that.

When they noticed the Mandalorian, however, their motives changed. It wasn’t about kidnapping you and keeping you as their prize for the day, but instead getting the armor off the Mandalorian and selling it. Had they been successful they would’ve walked away with both you and possibly thousands of credits after pawning off the armor.

But the Mandalorian had handled it, wielding his saber as he easily killed the two mercenaries. It still took your breath away thinking about how he had moved with it, fluid and precise. He may have held the weapon like it burned him, but he used it like second nature.

Your feet hit solid ground and you look up, eyeing the bustling city of Opseg around you. It was noisier than Tatooine. Children scream with joy as they run past you, disappearing into the crowd of people looking to buy the latest products. Fine jewelry and clothing were hung up on display, shopkeepers shouting prices to interested onlookers. The savory smell of vegetables cooking fills your nose and you turn to see another line of shops, these ones selling hot meals. The sights and sounds were both exciting and overwhelming all at the same time.

“This is insane…” you say, laughing slightly. You had never experienced anything like this before, a city with life. Tatooine was nothing compared to this.

“It’s not insane, my dear! This is Opseg!” A voice shouts behind you, startling you. You turn and a green humanoid alien grins at you. The friendliness waving off this stranger is almost as overwhelming as Orus itself. You wondered if everyone on Orus was like this.

The Mandalorian steps just in front of you, putting a barrier between you and the stranger. You hadn’t hired him to be a bodyguard but given the events earlier this morning and your lack of training, you let it slide this time. Besides, you were tired of being snuck upon.

“Ah, apologies, my name is Ortib-Blik! But you can call me Obie for short,” The alien extends his hand out, clearing his throat when the Mandalorian doesn’t offer his hand in return. “I’m a tour guide here in Opseg. You looked lost, so I figured I’d offer my help.” He offers a sheepish smile when the Mandalorian doesn’t say anything.

“Hello Obie,” you greet, stepping to the side of the Mandalorian in order to introduce yourself. “We’re just passing through; we need to find a medcenter.”

“I’d assume it’s for that wound on your eye?” Obie asks, pointing at where your eye swells. You nod and he grins again. “Well, you’re just in luck, the medcenter is taking walk-ins today!”

“How much is a physical?” Mando asks from behind you.

“It’s free!” Obie exclaims, “Even to non-Orus citizens.”

“Is there work I can find here?” Mando asks and Obie’s expression changes.

“Yes, plenty! You look more like a hunter, so I’m sure if you were to stop by any of Opseg’s twenty cantinas you’d find something.”

You balk at the number, looking at the Mandalorian. You forget his facial expression is hidden by the helmet, but you can assume he’s also surprised. Twenty cantinas was an incredibly high amount and you couldn’t imagine the work going into finding a job would be worth it.

“Thank you, Obie, but I think we’ll take it from here.” You offer a tight smile to the alien.

“Of course, of course! If you have any questions, don’t be afraid to shout!” He says, waving as he departs down the street.

“I think he was a lot nicer than the Devaronians that greeted us this morning,” you say, smiling when the Mandalorian sighs. “Too soon?” you chuckle.

“A little, yeah,” Mando says, turning around as he looked down the street. It seemed everywhere you look that it was teeming with life, people shouting and laughing. The shopkeepers yell over the playing children as parents stress over prices. This is way better than life on Puvo, you thought.

Puvo had its moments, the winter festival brought out a certain life in its citizens. Winter seasons were so rare that they celebrated the first indication of winter, whether it was a significant drop in temperature or animals beginning their hibernation. You had only ever experienced one festival and it was during the time your mind was still mending itself back together. But you remembered the laughing, the dancing, and the singing.

Valara had spent hours showing you how to braid her hair, repeating the motions over and over until you finally got it. She looked so happy dancing with that one boy from the neighboring village. Impressions meant everything on Puvo and she took it to heart when the boy didn’t offer another date after the festival. You had been too busy recovering to offer her any comfort, but Valara had moved on, throwing herself into work.

They hadn’t even celebrated the last winter festival. There was too much work to be done, the council had announced. A cloud of depression remained over the village for some time. Valara mentioned it reminded her of when the Empire was still in power. The depressive atmosphere took a toll on your already weakened mental health. Try as she might, Valara’s grandmother struggled to pull you out of that episode. It had been one of the many deciding factors to leave Puvo, at least for the sake of your own well-being.

“We’re in the town square at the moment,” The Mandalorian says. The memories of Puvo fade as you focus your attention. “Medcenter shouldn’t be too far from here.”

“Right,” you murmur, “and what are you going to do while I’m being seen?”

“The guide said twenty cantinas, I have to start somewhere. Most of them are downtown. Small, shouldn’t be too hard to get through all of them before you’re done.” Mando replies, looking to you for confirmation. You nod.

The walk to the medcenter isn’t much. You manage to escape the craziness that’s the town square, there’s not as much yelling, but there’s still plenty of children running around their exasperated parents. It’s clear you’ve entered one of the housing areas, women and men alike staring as you both continue your path. The Mandalorian doesn’t seem to mind the stares. He’s probably used to it by now, you think.

The medcenter is daunting when you approach it. The all-white building amidst desert brown was shocking at first, freezing you in your movement as you stared at the twin doors in front of you. What if they found out something was wrong with you? What if it couldn’t be fixed? Your mind spirals at the idea of what could go wrong, words and thoughts jumbling together. Would they take you away from the Mandalorian? Send you back to Puvo so you can really get better? Institutionalize you? You weren’t that crazy…

“I can’t do this,” you whisper to the Mandalorian. He remains silent and you wonder if you’ve finally managed to make him angry.

“You can. I’ll be there with you the whole time.” He speaks.

“But-but you said you’d—”

“I know what I said earlier.” He murmurs, “But you’re clearly in distress and it’s better for me to stay close, especially in a city as big as this one. The cantinas can wait.”

You’re not sure if his words really soothe your nerves. Your heart is still racing at your earlier thoughts and it’s quickly becoming harder to breathe. He was promising to stay but would he be there when they read off what was wrong with you? Suddenly being on Puvo didn’t sound so bad after all.

You jump when the door opens behind you.

“Hello, I am Oralia. I am a nurse here at the Opseg Medical Center.” A Mirialan woman greets you. “Is there something I can help you with?”

The kindness in the woman’s voice makes you freeze again. You’re unsure what to say, what to tell her. Do you start with the current injuries you have? Do you tell her about your purpose for visiting before you were even attacked? Could she tell you were overloaded with anxiety? You were probably shaking like a wet Loth-cat.

“Miss, are you alright?” Oralia asks you and you shake your head. With gentle hands, she lifts your face, her warm eyes examining the wound by your eye and the peeling bacta patch. “Are you with her, sir?” Oralia asks the Mandalorian.

“Yes,” he replies.

“Let’s get her taken care of.” The nurse says, grasping your elbow with a comforting hand as she walks you through the doors. You can hear the Mandalorian’s boots just behind you as Oralia walks you past the front desk into a smaller room.

“Is she going to be alright?” The Mandalorian asks, watching as Oralia lays you on the examination table. The lights are too bright in this room, it’s almost a startling reminder of that nightmare you had days ago. Strapped down to a table and subjected to torture, you never wanted to experience that again. Not again, not again, not again…

“She is having a panic attack,” Oralia replies in a calm manner, placing a wet cloth against your burning forehead. Their voices sound distant, muted even as you try and get over this attack. It’s so much worse than the ones before, your limbs feel numb and weightless all at the same time and the sterile smell of the room fills your senses. It only makes the panic worse.

A whisper of “I’m sorry” and the white ceiling blurs above you, your eyelids become too heavy to keep open. Sleep consumes you.

When you wake up, the room is the same. White walls and white ceilings stare back at you as you try to take in your new environment. The softness of a bed fills the fists of your hands. They must’ve moved you while you were still sleeping. Sitting up, careful of the needle in your arm, you look around in confusion. Where was Mando? What happened? How long were you asleep for?

“It is good to see that you are awake,” a voice greets you. Oralia. The nurse from earlier.

“Where is the Mandalorian?” You ask, not sure whether or not you can trust her.

“He is out. I told him to walk off his anger.” The nurse replies. She walks over to your bedside and examines the IV needle in the crook of your elbow. The skin is bruised but you’re not sure if it’s her work or from the Devaronians from earlier.

“Does he know I’m awake?”

“He will return, I am sure. You needed fluids in your system as well as a proper examination, but only one of those things I could do while you were asleep.” Oralia replies, examining the needle in the crook of your elbow. Adjusting the bandages, she looks at you with a kind smile.

“Did I pass out?” The last moments before falling asleep aren’t clear, only a blur of pictures and muted dialogue.

“You did not. I sedated you. Your panic consumed you and even my years of training could not walk you down from that.” she murmurs, removing the needle from your vein with calm precision. A small bead of blood pools out and she wipes it away, before wrapping the tiny wound.

Bringing your hand to your face, you feel along where your eye had been bruised. Clearly, it had been treated in your sleep as the skin is no longer tender to your touch. The patch just before your hairline is also gone, the skin smooth with no evidence of a scar.

“I am surprised you made it as far as you did. The Mandalorian told me a great deal of what happened to you both this morning. A pair of Devaronians?”

“Yes,” you say in response. She doesn’t urge you for any more of the story, but you tell her anyways. “The Mandalorian held his own. I, well, I didn’t.” Oralia chuckles at your statement.

“You are brave.” She compliments and you feel your skin growing hot at the statement. “It takes a lot for a woman like you to travel the galaxy. Much less with a Mandalorian.”

“I’m searching for answers. I was a victim of the Imperials and they took my son from me. The Mandalorian is helping me find him.” You tell her and she hums, finishing her work on the bandage just in the crook of your elbow.

“You have other wounds,” Oralia says, this time her hand placing itself right above your heart. You look down at where her hand is and you nod, looking away from her in shame. “I will grab Dr. Orn.”

The door opens with a soft whoosh sound and Oralia departs. You’re left in silence, pondering over your thoughts again. You didn’t want to have another panic attack. Taking a deep breath, you think about where the Mandalorian may be. Oralia had told him to walk off his anger. Why had he been so angry? Was it because you were asleep for so long? Thinking on it, it was some of the best sleep you had in a long time. No nightmares, no memories weaving themselves into dreams.

A click and the door opens again, this time Oralia is followed by a human woman. Dr. Orn, you deduce. Dr. Orn quietly walks over to your bedside and examines what you think is your chart on a datapad. The information displayed is not in basic and you frown.

“Hello,” Dr. Orn greets you. She’s older, possibly a few years shy of Valara’s grandmother but her eyes hold the same kindness. Dr. Orn says your name and you blink, looking back up at her. “We did some bloodwork. First, I would like to welcome you to Orus and we’re grateful that you chose our medcenter as the place to handle your healthcare needs. Second, your bloodwork came back great.”

A sigh of relief. “That’s great,” you murmur and Dr. Orn smiles.

“Oralia did some investigating on your chain code and there’s no record of you in any system, not even ex-Imperial. I’m sure you were aware, as was the Mandalorian. He was kind enough to give us what little information you had on yourself. But given the current state of your health, you are in great shape. Minimal scarring from the leaves of Puvo, which is great. I’m sure you’re aware of the ongoing mental healing you’re going through, but with time, you can work through the nightmares and panic attacks. However, there is something I want to note.”

Dr. Orn displays the datapad to you, this time the information is in basic. A rundown of what medical records they could establish for you. One healthy pregnancy was just one of the few things that caught your eye.

“It’s great to see that you’ve been able to have a healthy pregnancy. Oralia tells me you had a son, about fifteen years ago, correct?” Dr. Orn asks you, pointing at the profile they had made of your son. It was blank except for his name and estimated age. You were listed as his mother, but the name underneath FATHER remained blank.

“Yes. Castin. He was about ten when he was taken from me,” you reply, hand reaching out to skim through the notes they had established for you. Most of the information was blank, mostly because it was unknown, even to you.

“Good, good, as you can already tell we’ve logged that in the file we created for you.” Dr. Orn smiles before she brings the datapad closer to herself and removing it from your view. “However, we detected some anomalies in your blood. A woman of your age should be producing the normal hormones that regulate a menstrual cycle. We found that there was a lack of most of those hormones. Can you tell me when your last cycle was?”

You open your mouth to give a quick answer but quickly realize you don’t know. When you had arrived on Puvo, Valara had explained it was a possibility that your cycle would be irregular, considering everything your body had been through. But now that you were thinking about it, you hadn’t even noticed a lack in your cycle. You had been distracted by the ongoing therapy and work on Puvo.

“I-I don’t know…possibly after I gave birth to Castin but I don’t really remember,” you chewed at your bottom lip. What could it mean for you?

“That’s what I was afraid of,” Dr. Orn sighs, looking back down at the datapad. Her fingers tap on the screen, possibly logging what you had said. “You see, when we did your blood test, we found the lack of hormones a sign that you were not having a regular cycle. It’s not unusual, travel can bring stress on the body and I’ve been informed of what happened in your past, but for you, it means something else. When the Empire had you in their custody, what exactly do you remember them doing to you?”

You can feel Oralia’s comforting hand on your lower back, rubbing circles to soothe your nerves. You weren’t sure if you actually felt soothed, but you took a deep breath.

“It’s mostly a blur, I remember the electrocution and how painful it was, but beyond that, I don’t know.” You inform her, your hands twisting together in your lap. Why was she dragging this out? How bad could it possibly be?

“I see,” Dr. Orn hums. You watch as her hand reaches out, resting on your knee. A gentle touch. “When the Empire had you in their custody, most likely while you were in between torture sessions, they performed a surgery to sterilize you. The lack of hormones in your blood and lack of cycle leads us to believe that this is true. I am terribly sorry that you had to suffer under their hand. If there is anything I can do to help, please let me know.” Her face says it all, the sincereness in her tone and the sympathy in her eyes. The realization of the diagnosis hits you, knocking the air out of your lungs.

Even with Oralia’s hand on your back, you weep.

Read Chapter Eight - Finally, A Lead here!

#din djarin x you #din dijarin x reader #din djarin #din dijarin fanfiction #din djarin/reader #the mandalorian x reader #the mandalorian x you #the mandalorian #start again

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staceysonier · 5 years ago

Text

Those That Go Bump (MxF) NSFW

*Toy Box Monster Boyfriend!*

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

I was my mother's only child. And with being the only child, I was spoiled rotten, getting everything I wanted and could ever possibly need, within her parameters, of course.

She was a single mother, after all, and she worked her fingers to the bone to keep me happy but she just wasn't there as often as I would've liked.

I was often left with a teenaged babysitter who kept me locked in my playroom because she wanted her boyfriend and friends to come over--not that I ever minded. I had a pretty big imagination as a child so I could sit in a room and play by myself all day, never growing bored.

It also helped that I had a large number of toys to chose from in a wooden toy box. The toy boxes lid was slanted so when I lifted it up, it slid into the box until I pulled it back down. The toy box itself always seemed to be so big to me as a child and any and every small piece from a toy that I put in there always seemed to get lost.

And then, one day when my babysitter locked me in my playroom, I saw that all of the small parts to the toys I thought I lost appeared in a pile on my rainbow rug beside the toy box.

Being a child, I never thought to question it--until I touched something furry deep within the toy box.

I knew then that it couldn't have been a stuffed animal because I kept all of them in my old baby crib so, using my small hand, I felt around, patting at the fur until I touched what felt like skin and heard a giggle.

Pulling my hand out of the toy box and gasping, I sat down, trying to look inside but it was so dark where the light from my ceiling fan never reached, and the darkness seemed to go on for infinity.

"Hello," I whispered into the toy box.

Little me was not ready for the whispered, "Hello," I got back.

I slammed the lid shut and didn't open it for a week. I told my mom about it and she just laughed and said she loved how endless my imagination was.

Being terrified of the thing, the monster that lived in my toy box was an issue for me as all of my favorite toys were in there!

So, I was grateful for when I and my mother were walking down the sidewalk in town one day, a man in a long dark coat stopped us and opened one of the sides of his coat.

"You need this monster spray, kid? You look like you do."

My mother was trying to pull me around him but I dug my heels in.

"Mommy, I need the monster spray for the monster in my toy box! Remember? Please, please, please!"

Her face fell as she realized she was defeated and asked the man how much the spray bottle was.

"For the kid? I'll let you have it for ten dollars."

I watched as my moms' eyes bugged but I figured it was a good price.

"Ten dollars? Are you insane? Ten dollars for a bottle full of what appears to be water? No, definitely not."

She then tried to move around him again but I grabbed her coat.

"Mommy please," I begged and gave her my saddest puppy eyes.

In the end, the man instructed that I give two sprays into any of the dark parts of my room, every night. I should see results after a few days.

My mother grumbled but when we got home, she smelled the contents of the bottle and when she figured it was safe enough for me to play with, she sent me on my way to play while she made dinner.

I started with my room first, having no idea if the toy box monster could somehow get out and move around.

I sprayed under my bed, in my closet, behind my dresser as it was against a corner of the room.

I then moved onto my playroom, lifting the lid and spraying the mist into the toy box. I might've overdid it then but all I knew was I wanted my toys back.

A few days of this and I was finally ready to begin playing with my toys again.

My mom also bought me a new doll when we were in town and she made me put it in the toy box after I used my monster spray, saying that there was no way the monster would take my doll with how much I sprayed.

But when I went to go grab my doll from the toy box, I couldn't see it anywhere.

It was my favorite toy at the time and I wasn't going to let some monster take it without a fight!

So, grabbing my spray bottle, I climbed into the toy box and began crawling over all the toys. I felt like I had been crawling for a while but I was getting further and further away from the light in my playroom until the only light I could see what in front of me, where I was heading to.

I crawled and crawled and crawled until I was finally at the edge of another toy box, one exactly like mine, and when I looked out into the room, It was just like mine except everything seemed to be darker here, like there was a bad storm outside and the light in the room wasn't on--everything just seemed dull, even to me as a child.

As I climbed out of the toy box and stepped onto the dull rainbow rug, I saw my doll laying on the door and then heard a whimper and then a soft cry and turned to the noise.

I noticed something that looked like a large stuffed animal curled up on the baby crib.

As I got closer, I could hear its soft cries and whimpers clearer and to my child's self, it hurt to hear it crying.

"Are you okay," I asked it softly, keeping my distance as I did with our neighbor's cat who used to strike at me when I got too close.

"Why do you care," came a soft and small voice, "You wanted me to stay away and I have been."

It sniffled and then it whimpered again and I moved closer.

"I was just scared," I explained softly, "I'm sorry if I upset you."

"You upset me, alright. You also blinded me," it whimpered again and then sat up before turning to me.

I gasped as I saw its face and the first thing I noticed was its white eyes and the fur around its eyes was white.

I then saw the two horns coming out of its head, one on either side and they seemed to curl back. Its nose looked like a pugs nose and it had two large and spiky teeth jutting out from its bottom lip.

"I...I blinded you? How," I asked quietly and my tummy started hurting.

It sniffled again and cast its head down, "Whatever you sprayed. It got into my eyes and now I can't see out of them anymore. My mom and dad said I can't come to play with you anymore because you hurt me. I told them you obviously didn't want me to play with you anyway."

When I left that room and went back to my own, I washed every toy in my toy box by hand with hot water and soap, making sure that whatever was in it, washed down the drain. I also threw that bottle away and cleaned every possible place I used the spray at, even my own room.

I hadn't meant to hurt the monster, I just wanted it to stay away, but after going back to its room a few time and talking and playing with it, I found that it was really fun to be around.

I found out that he had a name--Kerolath, Kero for short--and he was the same age as me.

I didn't mind being locked in my playroom before but once I knew there was a whole other world inside of my toy box, I wanted in even when the door unlocked and my mom came home.

When I met Kerolaths parents when I got older, I apologized for accidentally blinding him. I knew nothing would ever make up for it but I think telling them that I really meant him no harm was what they wanted to hear.

Kero was able to come back to my room and play with me and my toys after that but I always helped him back home when he had to go back.

As we got older, our rooms changed but I begged my mother to let me keep the toybox, even when I threw out and donated all my old toys.

"What would you even keep it for, Shae," she had asked but I just shrugged and told her that it meant too much for me to get rid of.

She had laughed then, telling me that there was a point in time when I was terrified of the toy box.

I laughed as well and acted like I couldn't remember.

Kero came through my toy box when I came home from school and my mom was still at work, sometimes he'd be there waiting when I opened the door.

We were both 15 almost 16 so the room had changed from one of princesses and makeup stations and stuffed animals and toys to one of video games and gaming consoles, a cd player and various books on bookshelves.

He'd be lying on the rainbow rug, seemingly asleep with the light turned off but as I stepped into the room and turned on the light, he'd grin and sit up.

"Learn anything new," he'd ask.

His voice had gotten deep and husky throughout the years. He grew with me until he outgrew me. He had to duck when close to the ceiling fan for fear he'd take out another of the blades with his horns.

That had been a fun one to explain away.

Kero didn't just grow taller either, he bulked out, but his fur remained the same raven color it had always been, with the patches around his eyes still stained white.

He was so big and had so much muscle and smelt so good that he often had my cheeks burning as my teenage hormones went haywire.

I gave myself my first orgasm on the rainbow rug when I turned 16 to the thought of my toy box monster. And the 'amazing smell' Kero asked about the next day had me blushing as I told him I had no idea what he was talking about. I had been grateful in the moment that he couldn't see how red my cheeks had been.

I pulled myself out of my thoughts and had moved through the room to fall down into one of the giant bean bag chairs I had and, having felt a draft, turned around to see that my dress had flown up as I fell and my rear had been on display.

I was experimenting with thongs at this time, buying them without my mother for fear of what she'd say... And I just so happened to be wearing one that day.

Blushing, I had pushed my dress down and was again grateful that he hadn't seen what happened. I then watched as his face shifted and his tongue lulled out of his mouth.

"There it is again," he whispered huskily, "That smell."

I had pinched my thighs together as I watched him move closer but then his tongue moved back into his mouth and he cleared his throat.

"Sorry, I caught a whiff of something that smelled delicious again. Are you sure your mom isn't home and making dinner?"

I let out a shuddering breathed and shook my head, "No, she's at work. You must be having phantom smells again or something, Kero."

After that, I was careful of what I wore around him, trying my hardest to mask my scent but it was the times that he moved in closer, whispered into my ear, or touched a certain spot on my neck--even if all of this was with innocent intent--that he would get another whiff and get that dazed look on his face, his tongue lulling out.

After I graduated high school, I went straight into the workforce, getting a job at the company my mother worked at and I eventually moved out, taking my toy box with me.

I had a two-bedroom house so I put the toy box in the second room and kept it open for Kero to come through when he wanted, which was almost always.

You could say we roomed together now as he was always in my world more than he was in his.

He would say he hated how dull his world was after having seen mine and when I moved, he just stopped going back through the toy box when he didn't have to.

I eventually got another bed and he made the second bedroom his, only going home on Sundays to visit his family.

It was on these Sundays that I got the house to myself so I'd use it to my full advantage.

Even though I knew Kero couldn't see, he still had a remarkable sense of hearing and smell.

So, Sundays were the only days I'd walk around the house naked. I'd take long bathes and masturbate as many times as I wanted without Kero sniffing around.

"You still going to your families tomorrow," I asked one Saturday night.

We had been in the kitchen with me at the stove making dinner, him at the table reading. I had asked him one day how he read if he was blind and he told me his kind, where he was from, they had a different way of doing things. For humans, we read with our eyes and our fingers but for him, it was more of a feeling.

I still never quite understood what he meant but I went with it.

"Yeah, you know it's a thing with my parents. They want all their kids to come back on Sunday so...I have no choice."

I nodded though I knew he couldn't see it.

"All of your siblings visit your parents," I asked as I stirred the pot of chili.

"Yep. Vornes, Bazzegazon, Tagegazon, and Tigrame, though Baz and Tag try to get out every time because their girlfriend doesn't like being without them for a whole day. If only our parents cared," he snickered.

"When will you be leaving and when will you be coming back," I asked as I grabbed two bowls from the cabinet.

"Well," he sighed, "Time works differently but I'm sure I'll be gone well before you wake up and well after you fall asleep."

I turned around looked at him, "But you'll be here Monday when I get home from work...right?"

He set the book down then and sent a smirk my way, "My dear Shae-be...are you going to...miss me?"

I turned around a scoffed, "Don't call me that. And you're my best friend, Kero."

For being such a big guy, he moved quieter than even a mouse.

"You can still miss your best friend," his warm breath whispered against my neck, his hands on my hips and my heart was sent racing.

"Kero," I panted and shuddered and felt him move back.

I heard him chuckle before I heard the creak of the chair as he sat down again.

"You're so ticklish," he said as he picked up the book again.

***

I woke up the next day and made myself a big breakfast. I had a big day ahead of me, after all.

After eating, I took a shower so that I was nice and clean and once my body and my hair were dry enough, I dropped the towel into the laundry hamper and went to my bedroom to grab my toy from my bedside table drawer.

I then went into the living room and made sure all the curtains were closed tight so that no one could peek in and then I sat on the couch and pulled the coffee table closer.

Pulling the laptop from the bottom shelf of the coffee table, I powered it up and searched up a certain website.

After typing in what I was looking for, I turned up the volume just loud enough so that I could hear and spread my thighs before placing my feet on the edge of the table.

I loved watching the small women as they got pounded into by a big bulking guy. Those were my favorite--watching his monster cock ram in and out of her small hole, watching the fucked out expression on her face as she came around him...

Placing the toy to my lips, I swirled my tongue around the tip and then down the sides, wetting it before sliding it into my mouth just as the woman in the video was.

With my other hand, I first squeezed my breasts. I genuinely enjoyed that they were small and perky and could easily fit my hand. I pinched my nipples hard as the man on the screen pinched the woman's nipples, feeling her pleasure with her.

I was still sucking on the silicone cock in my mouth as my other hand traveled down my stomach and my fingers then found my mound.

Letting my fingers travel further, I got to feel just how wet I was. I was well lubricated as I ran my fingers through the slick mess and up to my clitoris before rubbing gentle circles at first.

I then brought the toy down to my lower lips as the man on the screen lined himself up with the woman's slit.

And when he rammed himself inside of her, I rammed the toy inside of myself, gasping at the feeling of the large toy inside of me and my fingers swirling my clitoris.

I came three times, having to take a small ten-minute break between each time in order to lose a bit of the sensitivity, and then fell asleep.

***

I woke up to hot air being puffed against my sex.

And when I finally opened my eyes, I saw Kero between my legs.

He had pushed the coffee table out of the way and hooked my knees over his shoulders.

His tongue was lulled out and he had a dazed look on his face.

"You were the smell the whole time," he whispered and his hot breathed against me had me shuddering.

"Kero," I whimpered and tried to push away but he held fast before smirking, "You're home early."

"The smell was faint when I came into your world but now that I'm here...it's stronger just now. Is it me, Shae? You get aroused by me?"

I watched as he blew cold air against me and I shivered, my knees unconsciously tensing and bringing him closer.

I whimpered again at how close he was, at how close his tongue was and the grin on his face.

"I can practically taste you, Shae," he whispered huskily and licked his lips and I was panting as I brought my hand down and spread my lower lips with my fingers.

I watched as he inhaled deeply, "You're teasing me. You've been teasing me since we were teenagers, haven't you? You got off on the rug in your playroom when you could've in your room."

My heart was beating faster than I thought humanly possible as his very large hands skimmed up my stomach and around to hold my sides, careful not to touch my breasts.

"And it was me you got off to, wasn't it? I heard you whispering, panting, and gasping my name, Shae. Your sweet voice was like a bright light and I was a moth drawn to you. I listened as you came that night and I came after you left the room. I wrapped myself in your smell and came into my fist. Will you make me again...tonight?"

My voice seemed non-existent at the moment and all I could do was scoot closer to his face and gasp as his sharp bottom canines touched on either side of my folds.

"Please, Kero," I whimpered and watched as his warm and wet tongue touched my wet and needy folds, parting them and then diving deep inside.

Gasping, I grasped onto his horns and kept him close as his big tongue slithered all over. First inside, deep inside, hitting spots I had no idea even existed, and then outside, circling my clitoris and making me pant.

I listened to him slurp me up, taking his fill of me as I got closer and closer to the edge of my climax.

"Kero, Kero, Kero, yes," I kept chanting as I used his horns to guide him to where I needed him most.

But then when his tongue moved south and I felt it run over my back hole, I shivered and whimpered again.

He kept licking over it before I felt him push in.

"Kero, wait--" I tried but my voice choked off as his tongue dove deep and wriggled inside.

I moaned for him and watched as he backed away before picking up the toy that I suction cupped to the coffee table.

"This had your scent the strongest. It was what drew me in. Let's see you draw it in."

He rubbed it around my slippery folds and then rolled his tongue all over it, tasting me on it, and watching Kero lick a huge cock had me more excited than I ever thought it would.

He then smirked as he rubbed it around my back hole, somewhere that I had never had anything before, especially not that big of a toy.

"Wait, Kero, it's too bi--"

But he was already pushing it forward, shushing me as his fingers pressing on my tongue.

I whimpered around his fingers as I took the toy and stretched around it.

"That's my good girl," he whispered as he pushed it all in and let it sit while I got used to the size.

It hurt but once the pain subsided and he began moving it within me, I was moaning for him to go faster, to give me more.

"You want more," he asked with a grin and stood up.

And what I saw dangling between his thighs was one of the biggest cocks I had ever seen.

It was black, the color of his fur, and had a huge knot at the end and came to a blunt tip.

I must've been staring because the next thing I know, his finger is under my chin, lifting my eyes to his face to get my attention.

"You want it," he asked with a smirk, "Beg for it, Shae. Beg me to fuck you."

Reaching up, I placed my hand at the back of his neck and pulled him down, feeling his hands go on either side of my head on the back of the couch as he bent down to me.

"Please," I breathed against his lips, "Please fuck me, Kero. Please fuck me, please," I begged and kissed him.

I heard him groan as he pressed his lips to mine and then licked my lips before lining himself at my entrance.

"Please," I whimpered as I felt the head of his cock push past my lower lips.

"Shae, fuck," he gasped as he pushed in further until his knot was at my lips.

I felt so full with the huge toy in my ass and his monster cock in my pussy. I was in heaven as he began to move and pulled the toy out with him, thrusting him and the toy in at the same time, causing me to gasp.

"Only," he groaned as he fucked me, "In my wildest dreams, Shae, have I ever," he groaned again, "Fucked your tiny, wet pussy."

"Harder, Kero," I begged and instantly got what I wanted as he began pounding into me. Leaving the toy all the way in to the hilt, he fucked me hard, moving the couch back with each powerful thrust.

"Kero," I cried, "Please!"

"What, my love? What would you like," he asked me sweetly, his hand on the side of my neck, stroking one of my sensitive spots.

I began to push him away, causing his face to move into an expression of confusion.

"Did I hurt you, Shae," he asked but backed away.

I turned over so that my ass was out to him and my chest was against the back of the couch before I grabbed one of his hands and placed it on my hip.

"Fuck me hard, Kero," I asked and I felt him move closer until he was pushing into me again.

And the first push in was heaven but as he put one of his knees on the couch and rammed into me, I was out of my body with pleasure.

This was everything I had ever wanted. It was Kero and it was him being rough like the men that I loved watching on that website.

"Shae, so tight around me. I might go early," he chuckled low in my ear and I shook my head. I wanted him all night long.

But it was, in fact, me who came early.

It was only a few of his powerful thrusts into me in this position that I came around him, causing him to gasp and shudder and then hold my hips tightly in his large hands.

"Fuck, Shae. I nearly--," his pounding into me sent aftershocks electrifying my body and causing me to squeeze around him tightly.

He jerked and pushed his knot into me, making me gasp as he stretched me further and locked himself into place with a choking gasp.

Kero doubled over, holding me tightly around my waist as he rocked within me. I listened to his whimpers and chuckled through my haze.

"Too much," I asked slowly, still feeling the effects of my earth-shattering orgasm.

"Too tight," he squeezed my hip, "too sensitive," he breathed out.

After his knot shrunk and he was able to pull himself and the toy in my ass out, he hauled me into the shower and rinsed me off, and when his fingers went in between my thighs, I grasped his arm and shuddered, listening to his chuckle.

"I made a mess down here," he whispered into my ear and licked my neck, leaving his scent.

"You can make a mess down there anytime," I promised as I pulled his lips to mine.

He pulled back and smile down at me.

"I love you," he said gently, rubbing the pad of his thumb over my lips.

"I love you too, Kero. I always have," I replied and put my arms around his large frame.

~~~~~~~~~~~~

HI! Want more monster love? Find me on Wattpad and Inkitt! I’m under the same name!

#lemon #monster boyfriend #exophilia #my writing #monster x reader #terato

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metinthehallway · 4 years ago

Text

It’s the Most Wonderful Time of the Year

Hello! Here is a simple little 3.5k fic! I thank @goldenbluesuit for hosting this spectacular fic challenge! I love what I've read so far and I can’t wait to keep reading. Also, thank you to @lilacobscure and @arrogantstyles for beta-ing and just being...awesome. I hope you all like it. :)

Warnings: mention of the word bloke from a non-Brit

Annie has had it. She’s holding two of her fluffiest pillows against both of her ears and has her white noise machine droning on at full volume. And she can still hear the sultry bass of Andy Williams singing his little heart out. She can hear him as clear as day, as if he were performing his very own live concert in the corner of her bedroom. Don’t even get her started on the Christmas lights. Annie had actually gone out and bought an eye mask in order to sleep, as her windows faced the neighbors front yard where Annie’s neighbor, apparently, was the sole reason their local supermarket was sold out of blow up decorations and string lights.

Harry Styles didn’t even have a lot of real estate to work with in terms of space. But he really made every centimeter count. One morning mid-November, whilst getting her mail, Annie counted about fourteen deflated pop-up corpses staked to the frozen ground, multiple candy canes lining his driveway that were about half the size of her, and masses of tangled lights strung up across every visible square inch of his home. If that wasn’t enough, he had a carefully crafted playlist he turned on every night at eight p.m. sharp that was approximately three hours and forty-nine minutes long before it looped back to the beginning song. She thought, fleetingly, that she should invest in ear plugs.

Annie prides herself on being a patient and understanding person. The only reason why she hasn’t held a covert operation at three in the morning to mercilessly stab a hole in each blow-up, or cut every single criss-crossed wire, or even ambush her neighbor while he walks out his front door in nothing but a fuzzy pink robe and no shoes, demonstrating that universal, oh shit the ground is cold, oh shit, oh shit, jerking walk, is because he only recently moved in next door. She was not about to be the one to ask him to maybe take it easy on the city’s power source, that she also needs electricity for her home, and also how do you fall asleep with this godforsaken music?

Annie is not prideful in this moment. All it takes for her to snap is hearing, “It’s the hap-happiest season of all,” for the forty-fifth time. With a loud groan, she tears off her beautiful, beautiful down comforter and stomps into her shoes, scaring Cindy, her sleeping Persian cat, off the bed. It’s two thirty-six in the morning, she realizes in a far off thought that doesn’t seem to make it to the forefront of her brain, and makes her way over to Harry’s front door. She has the immature urge to punch a smiling Santa sat atop a sleigh filled with presents as she passes it. All the lights are off in his house and Annie doesn’t feel a bit of remorse as she raises a half-asleep arm and slams it against the sturdy oak door of Harry’s house. For a full minute, it’s silent and there appears to be no movement from behind the door. A sliver of apprehension begins to worm its way into Annie’s bones.

There’s a better way to do this, Annie. Like, in daylight, during normal people hours.

She starts to turn on her heel, continuing her internal chastising and also external chastising, muttering to herself like a lunatic, when she hears the tell-tale creak behind her and a porch light flickering to life. Annie stands there, her right hand over her eyes, shielding them from the harsh yellow rays. She can make out Harry’s figure, dressed in flannel pajama pants that look like they were previously crumpled on his bedroom floor, a white T-shirt on backwards and inside out, and his signature pink fuzzy robe. His hair sticks up hazardously, sort of like a halo illuminated by the bulb behind him. His eyes are puffy, brows furrowed together and indenting a line in the center of his forehead. Lips as pink as a rose purse together as nostrils flare.

“Is there something I might be able to help you with?” Harry asks, a slight lilt to his gravelly voice. It’s a polite enough question, however it holds an air of carefully restrained annoyance. For a moment, Annie thinks she would be annoyed as well if someone pounded at her front door in the wee hours of a Tuesday morning. She quickly dismisses the thought, actually raising her hand in the air and waving it off as if it was a tangible thing. Harry raises one eyebrow.

“Good evening, well- morning, my name is Annie. I live next door, I’m twenty-two Ambrose Ave,” Annie starts. She doesn’t know why she announces her house number. She watches his eyes flick to his right where an engraved twenty-four lies, and back to hers. Annie shakes her head slightly before launching into a speech she never prepared.

“I’m here because I think the way you decorate is rude. Do you think, at all, of your neighbors? How do you fall asleep? Do you even have a job?! I never see you leave your house! Not that I’m keeping tabs, I’m just genuinely worried for your electric bill,” she continues, pausing to take a breath. “I have not had a single good nights rest since you started all of this, back in November. I have never hated the sound of Andy Williams’ voice more deeply than I do this holiday season.”

“Excuse me—,”

“Ah-ah! I’m not done, sir. Some of us are employed and have to work at eight a.m., some of us have cats that wake us up in the ass-crack of dawn anyway with their screeches and need all the sleep we can get. Do you know I had to buy a sleep mask because of you? Because of,” she pauses, a red rotating light from a candy cane passing over her face ominously as she turns around and gestures wildly to the commotion around her, “all this?”

“Can I just say—,”

“And the music. Are you eighty years old? The least you could do with this god-awful playlist is add some Mariah Carey, some Buble; even Ariana Grande has some sick Christmas tunes. The ones you chose haven’t been remastered since nineteen thirty-eight,” she finishes, eyes a little too wide, hair disheveled and falling in her face. Her hands are shaking and her heart is beating entirely too fast. Confrontation has never been Annie’s strong suit, evident of the lack of response from Harry as she cuts him off throughout the duration of her mini rant. He just peers back at her, face as still as stone as an uncomfortable silence falls between them. Frosty the Snowman rears its nasty head and Annie finds herself slowly closing her eyes and clenching her fists.

The second Annie starts to open her eyes, she hears the light closing of Harry’s front door and two locks click into place. She stands there, mouth slightly open as the early December chill works its way into her bones. She stares ahead of her and a murderous look takes over her face, cheeks red with the winter wind, lips chapped and tears starting to form on her lash line from the cold.

“What a fucking prick,” Annie mutters to herself. He can’t even respond to her? How childish. She turns around slowly, walking back through the winter wonderland, feeling defeated. She didn’t know what she expected to feel after finally expressing her thoughts, but she knew defeated was not it.

As she crosses the threshold into her home, she thinks, maybe I could’ve handled that better. Annie prides herself on her patience. She was not patient that night.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Over the course of the month, Annie and Harry bump into each other way more than either of them would like. Once, when the mailman dropped off her mother’s monthly care package to Harry’s house, another when Annie had to begrudgingly ask to borrow his shovel when she found her car snowed in one early morning and a broken handle on her own.

They’ve even begun to see each other in the aisles of their local supermarket. Annie enters the store, unsuspecting and looking for ingredients to make her world renowned charcuterie boards for a work fundraiser. She stops in her tracks and almost drops her jar of green olives when she sees a familiar head of frizzy brown hair.

Harry is hyper-focused, reading the back of a spray cheese can. Annie tries to sneak by him and grab a box of herb filled crackers. Tries. She is unsuccessful, however, when her purse strap catches on a display and yanks her arm backwards, making her lose grip of the glass jar. Everything seems to happen in slow motion, as she watches the jar sail past Harry and hit the ground, glass exploding all over his shoes. The chattering happening around her ceases, as all of the blood in her body travels to her face.

“Clean up in aisle four,” deadpans a nearby worker dressed in a horrid shade of neon green. He sighs heavily, murmuring under his breath that he doesn’t get paid nearly enough to be picking up all of these olives.

Annie is mortified. She is unable to tear her focus away from Harry’s soaked suede shoes. It’s only when he clears his throat and shifts his feet that she raises her head.

“I see… that you’ve really got a vendetta against me,” Harry scoffs, eyes trained on his feet, where the olive juice has to be seeping into his socks. No one likes wet socks.

“That was completely on accident! I swear! Why is that display sticking three feet into the aisle anyway? That has to be a a safety violation,” Annie pushes out in a rush. There doesn’t seem to be enough air for her lungs in this store. Especially not with Harry now looking intensely at her, almost like he could see right through her. She folds under his gaze.

“It’s okay. I didn’t like these shoes much, to be fair,” Harry shrugs.

“Really?”

“No,” Harry says.

“Oh. Well, I can buy you a new pair. How much did you pay for those?” Annie asks, pulling out her wallet.

Harry raises a single eyebrow, the left corner of his mouth turning up and a dimple appearing out of thin air.

“Too much. Really, it’s fine. The juice is translucent enough. I’ll just use them as house slippers,” he says. He opens his mouth to continue, but is interrupted by the loud squeaking of a bucket skidding across the floor. The neon green worker returns, a dingy looking mop in hand and a frown on his face. His free hand makes the shoo motion to Harry, starting to swipe at the floor, completely ignoring the glass scratching the linoleum that’s mixed in with the olives.

“Do you want any help?” Annie offers, stepping forward to at least pick up the larger shards scattered across the floor. The worker, whose name tag reads Roger, holds up a single pointer finger in her direction and shakes his head. Annie takes the hint, while Harry just shifts his gaze between Roger and the mess on the tiles, mouth somewhat agape. She nudges his shoulder with her own and gestures with her head for them to leave the aisle.

Annie makes her way up to self-checkout, Harry following suit. They ring their items up in silence next to each other. They find themselves walking through the front door together, and it’s only when they’re outside in the sunshine that Harry lets out the deepest belly laugh Annie has ever heard.

“Oh my god, my toes are so wet,” Harry says in between breaths. “Did you see the way that bloke’s vein was popping out of his neck? I thought he was about to commit second degree murder right in the condiment aisle.”

Annie’s heartbeat starts to pick up and she begins to laugh along with him. Tears form in both of their eyes and they sparkle in the cold afternoon sunlight.

“I feel so bad! I don’t even like olives. They were just for my stupid charcuterie boards,” Annie says, laughter dying down. She sighs, wiping at her cheeks. She looks up, meeting Harry’s eyes. He looks down at her, smile fading slowly but his face still holding traces of warmth.

“Well, I should be heading home. See you soon,” Harry bids his goodbye. Annie nods her head in his direction and turns, palming her keys and unlocking her car across the parking lot with a chirp. She unloads her groceries into the trunk and slides into the drivers seat, thinking for a brief moment about the shape of Harry’s smile.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The snow outside is falling. And it’s falling hard. So heavy and consistent that the power lines are drooping underneath the weight and the electricity in Annie’s house is flickering in and out. It’s Christmas Eve and all she wants to do is sleep the night away, then sleep the morning away, then sleep the weekend away. She draws back a curtain and peers at Harry’s lawn, the usual eyesore dark and covered in a blanket of sparkling white snow.

A sharp crack and the sound of something large tumbling to the ground close to Annie’s house makes both her and Cindy jump, eyes alert and tail all puffed out. She goes to open her front door to investigate and sees Cindy dart between her legs a second too late, a gray blur running into the stormy night.

“CINDY!” Annie yells, voice carrying eerily across the empty street. She takes off after the small cat, wearing only her pajamas and a pair of worn slippers. Annie loses her immediately in the snowfall. While outside, she sees the huge tree limb that fell onto Harry’s front yard, covering a third of his decorations, deeming a good chunk of them broken. She wonders for a short second why he hasn’t come out to check on the noise.

Annie’s heart starts to race as she tries to get a rein on her growing panic. Cindy is a strictly indoor cat, only having been outside for vet visits. She thinks of what would bring her cat back home, yelling her name sweetly and kissing her teeth loudly. She starts to walk towards the tree line, snapping her fingers and chattering her teeth.

“Annie?” She hears her name being called out from behind her. She throws her head over her shoulder and locks eyes with Harry, standing there in his infamous robe. He’s got his face turned away from the harsh wind and his face is scrunched up in confusion. “What on Earth are you doing out here?! Are you mental?”

“Cindy got out! I don’t know where she went. She ran in this direction. She never goes outside, I don’t know what to do,” Annie exclaims, feeling the urge to tear at her hair.

“Who’s Cindy?” Harry asks.

“My cat! She was scared by the branch falling and snuck right past me when I opened the door,” she explains, arms crossing over her chest as the chill of the night bites at her skin. She shivers, turning back towards the trees. They look like they’re beginning to come alive.

Harry looks her up and down and comes up behind her, wrapping that godforsaken robe around her shaking frame. She looks up at him, grateful for the extra layer. He has a serious look on his face, determined with a mix of compassion, and also curiosity. Annie is suddenly relieved that she has someone with her to handle the situation with more calm than she ever could.

“Why don’t you go inside and grab her favorite treats? And a blanket she loves? Something that smells like you would be best,” Harry says, listing off the necessary items as if he’s done this before. She looks at him, a bit puzzled, and he reads her expression easily.

“Our cats growing up were professional escape artists. I’ve done this once or twice,” he lets out a small chuckle. She nods and heads towards her house, grabbing everything they need and changing into a pair of winter boots and shrugging on a coat, shoving Harry’s robe towards him.

“I got everything. Here’s your robe,” Annie says, unable to meet his eyes. She already feels indebted to him, and they haven’t even found Cindy yet. “Thank you for helping me. I’m just… scared,” she confesses, tears starting to well up. She presses her fists into her eyes roughly as if she could stop them from falling.

Harry just nods, takes the garment, and starts shaking the treat bag. His deep voice carries into the night more than hers did as he walks around, zig-zagging across the snow. Annie holds Cindy’s favorite blanket that resides on her bed and wraps it around her. She follows Harry, both chorusing, Cindy! Cindy, baby! Come back! It’s too cold for you out here!

They walk the perimeter of Annie’s house, keeping to the tree line, when Harry shushes her. He stops in his tracks and listens to the silent night. Faintly, from the direction of Harry’s house, comes a small mewl. He walks briskly over, slowing his movements as he gets closer in order not to scare the small Persian.

“Cindy? Where are you girl? Come out for your mama,” Harry half-whispers, half-shouts. He’s still shaking the treats lightly, starting to open them. From their right they can hear a crumpling of plastic, a flash of gray shooting out from underneath the collapsed blow-up of Santa on his sleigh. Annie cries out in relief as Cindy comes running towards them at full speed, crashing right into Harry’s legs. He scoops her up swiftly with one hand and holds a treat out to her in his other.

“You had me so worried, Cindy! I cannot believe you. You want nothing to do with the outside world but decide to run out into the coldest night we’ve had so far! You’re crazy,” Annie half-sobs, holding the cats face in two hands. Cindy shakes the snow out of her fur and licks at Annie’s nose. Harry watches the interaction, feeling something unfolding in his own chest. He gestures for Annie to take her cat, picking long hairs out of his robe.

“I see everything’s all in order here, I’ll just—oh,” Harry lets out a grunt as this peculiar woman collides into his body, cat trapped between the two of them and licking at the pink fuzz surrounding Harry as if she were grooming a kitten. His eyes go a bit wide, arms frozen around Annie while she releases a string of, thank you so much, you have no idea how much she means to me, you didn’t have to do this but you did so I owe you, I’m sorry for what I said that night, I’m sorry about the olive juice, thank you, thank you, thank you, muffled into his chest. His hands find themselves resting on her back, stroking up and down in a means to calm her.

“Hey, hey… it’s okay. I know what it feels like. I’m glad she was okay,” Harry soothes. Annie pulls away, and a strange longing passes through his heart. He frowns slightly and clears his throat.

“I’m going to go to bed now, and get this little gremlin inside. Thank you so much, Harry. I really do appreciate it, more than you know,” Annie says, a bit breathless. Snowflakes lay themselves to rest upon her eyelashes, lips pink from the cold and Harry has the innate urge to tuck a piece of unruly hair behind her ear. He blinks, forcing himself out of his head.

“Really, it’s no problem. I’ll be heading in as well. See you soon, Annie,” Harry declares. Annie realizes with a jolt that Harry just said her name for the first time. She’s suddenly overheating, and gives a single nod, holding Cindy tight to her body as she walks up the few steps to her front door. Harry watches her leave, only taking his eyes off her when he can’t see her anymore. He then turns around, looking at the demolition of his lawn. He inhales deep.

“Fuck.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Harry does a double take when he sees Annie outside his home the next morning, attempting to break apart the large tree branch.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

For the remainder of the season, Harry and Annie spend an inordinate amount of time together. From binge-watching their guilty pleasure TV shows to roaming the streets downtown at midnight, sharing the same love for empty places. It seemed as though, somewhere in the universe, a story began to unravel itself.

As the last snowflake melts on the first stem emerging from the soft ground, Harry kisses Annie. He wasn’t even planning on it. It was like second degree murder. He found himself looking at her looking at the bluest sky, the sky looking back at her like it wanted to kiss her as well; so he kissed her first.

#GBSxmaschallenge #harry styles #harry styles fanfic #harry styles oneshot #christmas fic #thank you for reading!

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leggomylino · 4 years ago

Text

Vibe So Hot | Han Jisung

Genre: Fluff, Comedy

Pairing: Han Jisung x fem!reader

AU: neighbor au, prank war au

Word Count: ~11.7k

Warning(s): mild language (censored)

A/N: inspired by the song “Vibe So Hot,” Priscilla Ahn

ღ Stray Kids M.List | M.List ღ

-〤〤〤-

There were times when you weren’t really sure about Han Jisung.

The day you moved from your parent’s house into your new home, life was a dream. A delight. A living fantasy. You and your closest friend of twenty-odd years had been visualizing it for ages- a home for just the two of you, where you could make and break all the rules you wanted, eat dinner out of the cookie jar, throw paint and crayon all over the walls, and dump all the grease, homework, and leftover brussel sprouts down the garbage disposal that you wanted. It would be your kingdom with the two of you at equal pedestal on the throne, and no one could say or do anything about it.

While your visuals and ideals did change over time, what with hormones and taxes and a general understanding of how the world worked, you and F/n never stopped dreaming of the day you each held one half of the kingdom between your fingers. One half of freedom. It was a blissful, beautiful Tuesday morning. Exactly five months ago. Birds chirping in the small tulip trees. The sweet spring breeze ruffling the surrounding azaleas. The simple but water-efficient sprinkler system the two of you had worked a summer job to afford that was...spraying…...coke…

...Yes, it had been a beautiful Tuesday morning. And also the arrival of hell next door.

“HAN JISUNG!” you yelled, banging on your neighbor’s front door. “Han Jisung, I know you’re home!” You stamped your foot. “Open this door right now!”

It was now five months later. Five months since you’d moved into your dream home, something small and sweet and affordable that you and your friend worked hard for years to achieve. Just something small to start the two of you out, while you finished up school and figured out what the heck the two of you wanted to do with the rest of your lives.

It had easily become five months of back-and-forth hell. “HAN JISUNG!!!”

Click. The door slowly creaked open. It was dark inside, far too dark for 2 pm, like something out of a horror movie.

Oh, but you weren’t falling for another one of his tricks. Not this time. “Han Jisung, I know you’re there…” You called...weakly. “C-Come out this instant. I know it was you who stuffed cereal into the birdfeeder and left glue on the door handles. I was almost late for work this morning and F/n is stuck on the back porch.”

There was no response. You agitatedly sighed, running a hand through your hair and taking a handful of strands with you thanks to the faint remainder of krazy glue that simply wouldn’t come off.

“Han,” you called, poking your head inside. “Han? Han Jisun-”

The moment you stepped inside, a loud whrr! resounded, your body hoisting upwards. You spun around in the flimsily thin netting, falling into a fetal position backwards.

Han and a few of his cronies came out cackling at your expense, watching you gently spin and sway in their ridiculous trap. “I caught Y/n!” one of them cheered. “That’s 1,000 points.”

Another scoffed. “You didn’t do anything,” he said, blowing long blonde locks out of his face. “The points go to me for setting up the...project.”

“Shouldn’t they go to Han?” Yet another asked. “It’s his house.”

You rolled your eyes, attempting to adjust. Han tromped over proudly and swung his arm around the boy. “Exactly!” he cheered, pinching his cheek. “I’m glad you see it my way.”

The kid squinted his fox-like features in disgust, shoving the ringleader away from him. Han merely laughed, smirking up at you next. He sent a flirtatious wink your way. You scoffed.

“S’up, gorgeous?”

“Drop dead.”

“Ouch,” he playfully winced, pretending to take literal damage. “Didn’t like the glue, or the cereal? I told Hyunjin no one wanted his bland raisin garbage. But,” He shrugged. “He insisted it was good for the birds. The raisins, anyway-”

“Screw you,” Goldilocks groaned. “Shove off, I never said I ate the stuff. I just said it was better than wasting Lucky Charms or something actually good.”

“...Yeah, so there’s that.” He spared a passing eye roll before putting back on his deceitfully charming smile. Disgusting. “What brought you to swing by? Just dropping in?”

The other boys laughed again, causing you to turn an annoying shade of pinkish-red, some cross between coral and rouge. “I don’t have to tell you anything!” you snapped in your anger.

Unfortunately, Han Jisung needed to know the facts. “Then...how am I supposed to help you? Oh, oh! Hold on a minute.” He simpered. “Are you maybe trying to tell me that you came by unannounced because...you wanted to get caught up in my web?”

Han’s crew all made catcalls and whistles along with nervous smiles and suggestive expressions. The nerve of him. You fought yourself into an upright position, clawing angrily at the seams. “I meant you already know what you did wrong! Get me out of this stupid thing and get over to my house so you can fix it.”

“Oooo,” A freckled-faced boy you recognized as Felix cooed. He’d often been a leading officer in many of Han’s classic pranks and schemes. “I think she wants you bro.”

The heat on your face was intensifying, whether from rage or embarrassment, you didn’t care. Your prison shook. “That’s not what I-”

“Well then,” Han (classically) interrupted. “Guess I better get over there and fix it.” He wiggled his eyebrows in a salacious manner, padding around the clamour of boys and taking the stairs three at a time like a gazelle. When he reached the top, he revealed a rope from around the corner, lowering you gently...at first.

After three careful tugs, he dropped the rope entirely. Your eyes went wide, screaming as you fell--

...Right into Han Jisung’s arms. The boy glided down the stair rail and caught you at the last possible second. “Plenty of time to spare,” he insisted, showing you his teeth.

You slapped them away, wrestling your way back to your feet. “...You’re such an asshole, Han Jisung,” You dusted yourself off, smoothing out your attire single handedly. “I--”

...You yanked your hand down. Away from his face. Hard. Harder.

It was stuck. Your hand was stuck to his cheek. Krazy glue.

“OW! Ow ow ow okay! That hurts! Sh*t!” He cursed. You rolled your eyes, kicking his leg.

“That’s what you get for gluing my door! Now come on!”

To make things less awkward, you gripped his left ear, yanking him like a mother would a misbehaving child. The others crowded around and followed, laughing as—

The door slammed in their face. “OW!” You heard Hyunjin yelp. His watered-down image through the distorted window showed him covering his nose, the other two goons frantically asking if he was okay.

...Well, Felix did, anyway. Fox-face merely stared and shook his head a little. “Let’s go. You’re cleaning the glue off both doors and changing out the birdfeeder. If you screw it up, you’re buying me a new one.” A harsh gaze fell over your shoulder. “After you unstick F/n!”

Han grunted, his groans and whines a feeble echo of white noise along with the ridiculous passes he occasionally made on the way over.

-〤〤〤-

After spending an hour and a half watching Han unstick glue from around your house (after unsticking your hand from his face) and taking a trip down to the hardware store for a new birdfeeder that 100% came out of his pocket, you sighed, trudging yourself through the front door and collapsing onto the nearest sofa by a front-facing window. You leered, observing Han shuffle up his own walkway and exchange harsh words with his friends before they all piled inside.

That bastard. He was always coming after you, ever since you first moved into the neighborhood. After the first week of assaults (from moving day) you’d asked the other neighbors if any of them had any bad experiences from house 117, but they all gave a generally same response: “Who, Han Jisung? Oh, heavens no! He’s such a nice boy! A little quirky, sure, but such a nice boy! ...Are you sure it wasn’t a raccoon or a stray cat?”

Heh, yeah. Like a stray cat was capable of impersonating your friend to have the locks on your house changed. Didn’t they have to do security checks for that stuff?!

Speaking of locks, the sound of keys ricocheted from your left, and you turned your head to see F/n enter...very strangely. They looked spooked, their eyes wide as they turned their head this way and that, creeping into the house like an Egyptian wall painting.

“Is the cost clear?” they asked. “Is he gone? Nothing’s missing? Nothing’s amiss?”

“Relax, F/n,” you said, scratching your head. You desperately needed a shower, but that had been rather hard with the pipes spewing nothing but Mr. Pibb for the past three days. It’d apparently be a fourth until they cleared out. “The menace is gone, back to his evil layer. I made sure he cleaned up his mess and got him to replace your grandmother’s birdfeeder.”

F/n scowled, back to normal as they tromped into the room, throwing their bags down. “She made that birdfeeder from scratch, Y/n. With her own two arthritis riddled hands, that birdfeeder may as well have been an ancient relic. It was one of a kind.”

“I know, I know,” you insisted, peacefully trying to calm them down. “Just relax. I got it under control and taken care of.”

“You said that last time. Now look at the place.”

You looked around. “...It looks spotless. Han actually did a really nice job with that extra work he put in.”

“Well it wasn’t before! ...Wait, you let him into the house?!”

Whoops. “Only to do some extra chores. To make up for outside. And many other times he’s screwed us over.”

Your friend grabbed the sides of their hair, practically seething. They regarded you like you’d gone insane, and they were just on the brink. “Y/n have you lost your mind? Are you stupid? I thought you were smart! What was that 3.5 GPA for?!”

“Hey, GPA isn’t everything. It’s just a matter of getting on a teacher’s good side and paying attention. Also, I’m aware that...that may have not been the best move. But it’s fine!” you insisted, now following your friend into the kitchen. “I was watching him the whole time. He didn’t leave my line of sight once!”

F/n opened the fridge, glaring perplexedly. “...Not once?”

“......”

You thought. Oh wait...well…

You smiled sheepishly. “...Actually...ahaha...he may have asked to go to the bathroom once…”

F/n’s jaw dropped. “And you let him?!”

Your hands found their way into the air. “What was I supposed to do, F/n? Follow him into the bathroom? That’s creepy and gross and uncalled for.”

Your friend grabbed a beer from the fridge, slamming the door shut after. “No, Y/n. You tell him to go next door and use his bathroom.”

“But what if it was an emergency?”

“I think he can hold it.”

“But what if he couldn’t?”

They paused just beside you, giving you a harsh glare. “After all he’s done? I’d say that’s a real shame and another mess he’d have to clean up.”

“F/n--!”

“NO, Y/N,” Your friend of twenty-odd years turned to you, making it halfway back to the front door. “You don’t get it! It has been five years--”

“Five months.”

“...It has felt like I have had my guard up for five years. I can’t relax in my own home. I can’t relax at work, I can’t relax at school-- I can’t relax anywhere!” They polished off the beer, crumbling the can and tossing it aimlessly into the kitchen. You ducked, the can soaring over your left ear and colliding with a kitchen cabinet. “URGH!”

They grabbed their bags, beginning to march out. You were faster, sliding on sock-clad feet across Han-polished floors to beat them to it, blocking the exit. “F/n, listen. Please. I agree it’s bad, but I think you’re overreacting just a little.”

“Overreacting?! …” S/he crossed his/her arms, glaring at you skeptically and in disbelief. “Okay, fine. Which bathroom did he use?”

“Huh?”

“Which bathroom?”

You swallowed, thinking again. “...Uh...the upstairs one.”

F/n deadpanned. Cold and hard. “Great. Thank you for that. All my school supplies are up there. My office and workspace is up there. That’s where I sleep, Y/n.” You blinked.

“You sleep in your office?”

“URGH!”

They pushed you aside, storming into the wide, open world. Hysterically you followed, snagging your keys off the side table by the front door and making sure to lock up behind you. “F/n- ...F/n wait…! Ah, stupid locks…!”

“Don’t follow me, Y/n!”

“WAIT!”

“I SAID DON’T FOLLOW ME!”

From the corner of your eye, a silhouette of dark brown hair and overly-white teeth made its way toward your property line. “Hello F/n, Y/n.” The careful fall breeze blew the shade from his eyes, where evil and mischief still resided. “Having a little back and forth banter, are we? A disagreement, perhaps?”

Han-bleeping-Jisung. Your vision narrowed, a scowl aimed directly at him. When he was around, it’s all you could focus on. Your senses heightened, and not in a good way. He couldn’t be trusted.

You shouldn’t have let him into your house. Your sensors were picking up on something. He seemed too happy for someone that was just forced into doing chores in a house that wasn’t their own. And willing so…

A hot vibe was residing along the back of your neck, between your shoulder blades. A sinking, sensationally bad feeling. “What can we help you with, Han?”

“Oh,” he piped, brows raised. “We’re on a single name basis now. That’s rare.”

F/n cast him a dark look and continued down the sidewalk to their car. You sighed, trying to relax and having little success; F/n was right, it was hard to remain calm with a hellion next door. “What do you need?”

Han Jisung shoved his hands in his pockets. “Need is a strong word. I need a lot of things. Food, water, air--”

A groan escaped your lips. “Fine. Forgive me. What do you want?”

“Hmmm…” He smirked, listing his head. “I want a lot of things, princess. Depends what you’re referring to.”

You’re pretty sure you could hear the gag coming from F/n’s car as they started the engine, shifting into reverse. Han chuckled, letting you know he heard it too.

“Alright, fine.” He held his hands up in surrender. “You caught me. I came to warn you.”

“Warn me about what?”

“......” He pursed his lips. “...I may have gotten a bit carried away and...well, I couldn’t resist, really. But I was thinking and, maybe it was in bad taste. Since Hyunjin did break your grandmother’s bird-thing.”

A rustling came from the bushes. “That wasn’t me! That was you!”

Han cringed, turning over his right shoulder. “Shhh!”

You faltered, zoning in on Han’s shrubbery. “Who is that? Is that Hyunjin hiding in your flowers?”

Han rolled his eyes, tossing...some junk from his pockets. A coin or something. “I told you not to say a word!”

Blonde hair revealed itself from the viburnum bushes on Han’s property. “Cattywampus.”

“I SAID TO SHHH!”

Hyunjin scoffed. “Oh, so when we’re playing Scrabble, it’s not a word. But now that we’re probing Y/n for information, all of a sudden, it’s a word!”

The air left your lungs, quite dramatically, and you took a step back farther into the safety of your porch. “...What is he talking about? What information?”

Tensions spiked like never before. Han simply groaned. “Dammit...thanks a lot, Hyunjin.” He turned to you with a sour face. “Yeah, okay, whatever, just...I wanted to know when your birthday was.”

He shrugged, trying to pull off the most innocent, blow-it-off look possible. You weren’t buying it. “What were you saying before? What did you do to my house?”

“Oh yeah,” He clasped his hands behind his back, sending another classic trademarked wink your way. Hyunjin freed himself from the viburnum flowers, along with Fox-face, who’d gotten himself tangled up in the next-door rose bush; he tripped over an illy placed hoolahoop and ran into Hyunjin, the two of them taking turns removing literal thorns from their sides. “I left you a present inside.”

I left you a present inside.

He left you a present inside your house. A surprise. A bad one. You had invited him into your living space, your relaxation hub where relaxation was scarce, and gave him just enough alone time to leave something behind.

Something terrible. Something rotten.

Han Jisung was no longer looking like Han Jisung to you; what you saw before you was his true form: a plotting, overzealous, sadistic little impish demon of a man, no...a demon pretending to be a man. Someone like Han Jisung couldn’t possibly be human. There was no love at all in his heart.

“F/N!” You yelled, chasing after them as they drove down the street. “F/N, WAIT! STOP THE CAR! PLEASE!!!”

You could feel Han Jisung’s eyes as he trailed you all the way down Maple Street, his friends watching as F/n hit the brakes a hundred feet shy of the stop sign and let you clamber in the back.

“Step on it.”

S/he nodded, slamming the accelerator and getting the two of you safely out of Dodge. “I’m going to a friend’s house. I have to return a few things I borrowed before Han Hellion ruins them,” They looked over their shoulder. “Where are you headed?”

Your eyes glared proudly through the rearview mirror. F/n drew back, nervously looking between you and the road unassured.

But there was nothing for it. They could yell and pitch a fit at you later. Today, this very moment, everything was going to end.

“The craft store,” you said. “And you’re coming with me.”

“What?”

“We’re taking our house back.”

“......”

The car rolled to a stop at the cross section of Water and Runway Boulevard. If it was the friend you were thinking of, F/n would have to make a right here. Your local craft store was the opposite direction.

With a unanimous nod through the rearview, the two of you made a left down Water Street.

-〤〤〤-

Hobby Lobby had to be your favorite store, next to Fye’s Music Records where you occasionally went for your music collection and your favorite restaurant. ...Though a store wasn’t really a restaurant, and vice-versa.

You and F/n scoured the many aisles of arts and crafts, decor and gifts, candles and knick-knacks, searching high and low for everything on a messy-scribbled list the two of you put together in the parking lot. Revenge was going to be so sweet. Total bliss.

“Buckets?” A young employee repeated back to you. “Yes, let’s see, they should be near the back of the store, on the right-hand side. If you pass the glitter and pipecleaners, you’ve gone too far. I believe they’re on Aisle 13.”

“Thanks,” F/n said, grabbing your wrist and dragging you behind them. They almost seemed more excited about this whole revenge-war than you did. “Aisle 10...Aisle 11...Aisle--”

S/he stopped, pale-stricken. “What is it?” You tried peering around the corner. “What’s wrong? Are they sold out or somethi--”

Your heart nearly stopped. There, in the middle of the aisle, stood Lee Felix, perusing a wide selection of glitter glue. A bucket (not a basket) hung from slack fingers, carrying a barrage of other craft equipment as well as a plastic bag from the Home Depot next door.

Some kind of rage was flooding through your system. You could sense it in F/n as well. The two of you were in sync, fed up with the Hellion Clan’s crazy antics and batsh*t ideas that only brought you pain and suffering. Enough was enough.

You practically shoved your friend aside. “LEE FELIX!”

Felix jumped, startled, frantic, eyes zooming in on you like a deer in headlights.

Then, unlike a deer in headlights, he ran.

“AFTER HIM!” F/n cried, shoving the list in their pocket. S/he ran farther towards the front of the store to block the entrance, while you followed in hot pursuit of the freckled boy’s trail.

Your phone buzzed as you ran, and without taking your eyes off your target you shuffled it out of your purse, slamming the receive button a little too hard. “What?!”

“He’s going towards the back of the store! He’s heading for the emergency exit!”

You gave a quizzical look toward your friend’s voice coming out of your phone, then back at your target’s backside. “What? How do you know that? Where are you?!”

“Look up. Aisle 1. Holiday crafts.”

Carefully your eyes scanned the tops of the shelves near the entrance, and after doing a double take on a statue you found F/n squatting among some Santa Claus and Christmas angels, a pair of high-grade binoculars in their mits.

You had no idea when they’d gotten those. “Where did you get those from?! How the heck did you get up there?”

“That’s not important right now! Just SEIZE HIM! He’s getting away, run faster!”

With an aggravated grunt you hung up, shoving your phone away and pushing your legs to hit the tile twice as hard. Some twenty feet in front of you Felix squeaked, making a surprise turn down Aisle 2 and knocking over a stack of decorative boxes. You cursed, calling forth your skills from high school gym to hurdle yourself over the monstrosity and skid to a temporary halt before barreling down the half-storage half-Christmas decor aisle.

“He’s getting away!” F/n yelled. “Move!!!”

“Why don’t you help me?!” You called back. Felix made a 90 degree turn, charging farther back into the store in the opposite way you were anticipating; unless…

A store manager suddenly appeared at the end of the aisle, holding her hand out to stop you. “Excuse me, I don’t think so; there’s no horseplay allowed in the store.”

Though she tried to grab you, you dodged like a badass, perrying right, then left, then spiraling after a mop of retreating orange hair down Aisle 7. “Can’t! Sorry! I’ll pay for this later!”

“I’m sorry?!”

“Hold that thought!”

The sound of static and muffled voices crackled behind you as the manager called for backup, but you didn’t care. This would all be over once the little coral pipsqueak was in your grasp; you’d make sure to make him sing everything that was going on.

“LEE FELIIIIIX!”

Somewhere on the opposite side Felix squealed, either running into something or barricading another path to ensure his freedom. You slid to another halt, straining your ears to pick up on the sound.

Maybe you could sneak up on him. You were getting pretty tired, and running all over the store wasn’t a very good strategy for either side. Tiptoeing down Aisle 6, buttons and sewing equipment, you held your breath, carefully peering down both directions of the aisle.

Empty, minus a mom and her kid. You dropped down on all fours, crawling to the next aisle-- except--

“Ow!” you hissed, pricking yourself on something sharp. It was a discarded sewing needle.

It gave you an idea. After sucking on the injury a moment, you snagged the discarded object, pinning it to the side of your bag.

You hopped to your feet and gathered the strongest thread and yarn you could. After diving into a pile of fabrics when a few security guards walked by, you got back to work setting up your ingenious idea. A little thread here. Some fabric there. A weight right here…

You quickly sewed (loosely) a few strips of fabric together, finally finishing your creation. “Sorry, this aisle is closed right now,” you said to a few customers, spreading slime over each end of the hall. It was showtime. “I’m ready,” you told F/n, uttering the words through your phone.

F/n had done well to keep their disguise as an oddly-put Santa, peering through their binoculars when no one was looking. “Okay. I sort of lost him after the cops started lurking by here. Let’s see…”

Another curse left your lips. “He didn’t leave, did he?”

“No, I didn’t hear the doors open or close. He’s gotta still be here somewhere…..aha!” Their cry made you jump. “Found him!”

“Where?!”

“Opposite side. Aisle 18. He’s hiding around the picture frames.”

“Dang it,” you groaned, “I need him over here!” You looked around hesitantly. “Can you get him over to this side? I’m on Aisle 7. Additional Sewing and Craft Supplies. Fabrics, yarn, etc.”

“I’m scared to leave my post, but…” F/n sighed. “...I guess if you have a plan, I can chase him that way.”

“Great, okay. Hurry.”

“Roger.”

You hung up, taking another deep breath. Waiting. Ducking when the cops circled back around.

Suddenly, you heard a familiar battle cry from the other side of the store, followed by a man’s scream. The security guards and management started racing that way, but by the time they’d get there the source would be long gone…

Because he was headed straight for your trap. You scaled to the top of the aisle, keeping low with a blanket of fabric over your head as you watched Lee Felix weave in and out of craft stands and passing customers, buzzing toward Aisle 7 like a bee to a honey hive.

“RwARGH!” F/n cried, their Santa disguise flying with a full-powered shove. Felix went plunging for the nearest aisle, your aisle, and the moment his sneakers hit Elmer’s Color Slime Kit, he slipped, spinning out of control right into the giant DIY net you created. Yes! Score!

“HIYAH!” You screamed, jumping off the aisle shelf and tackling him. Gave over. You’d won.

Felix squirmed and fought with all the strength he had left in him, his abs, his arms, his quads, but alas, twice his body weight from you and your friend combined was more than enough to stop him. He gave out with a long sigh just as an employee rounded the corner, crying for assistance.

You were out of time. Tying his hands behind his back and bundling the rest of the fabric around him, your friend threw a couple twenties from their pocket at the young man before the two of you slipped out the emergency exit.

“You’re going to tell us everything!” You demanded, carrying his torso. Felix scowled, rolling his eyes. Despite his obvious anger, he was sweating bullets and looked rather afraid.

“I’m not telling you anything. You made me drop my stuff.”

“You can go back for it later. F/n, open the door.”

F/n shook their head, placing your captive’s feet down and unlocking the back of their car. “Nuh-uh. He’s riding back here.”

“In the trunk?!” The boy cried.

“In the trunk.”

F/n was dead serious. You stifled a laugh, even if it was kind of mean. Felix whined and bowed his head as the two of you placed him inside, F/n smacking a bow on his head that’d stuck to them during the chase.

“Okay. Let’s get out of here.”

The two of you slammed the door shut.

-〤〤〤-

The moment light hit your captive’s eyes, he squinted, groaning from the bumpy ride (as F/n insisted on hitting every speed bump and pothole). Lifting the boy on the count of three, he made sure to cry out for help- “HAN!!! HYUNJIN!!! JEONGIN!!! I’M OVER HERE!!!”- but, as it was expected, F/n simply dropped the boy on the driveway and threatened to stomp over a...delicate area...before smirking at his wide-eyed response and stuffing the bow in his mouth.

“Um, F/n…” You muttered, hoisting your prize up the porch steps, “don’t you think maybe you’re being too-”

“Don’t,” they warned, casting you a glare. “I’m not being too anything. These jerks deserve way worse.” They shifted Felix’s weight in order to allow you room to open the door. “Besides, it’s not like we’re gonna torture him or anything. Just ask a few questions.”

Felix gave a sigh of relief.

“...We can figure out what to do with him after that.”

...He took a sharp breath, beginning to sweat.

Inside the house the two of you tossed Felix onto the couch, running around the lower level to gather equipment before shifting him to a dining room chair. You were adjusting his bindings when the phone rang, F/n scampering off to answer it after sharing a look.

They smirked at the familiar caller I.D. “Y/n and F/n residence,” S/he answered in an overly-pleasant tone. “How may I help you?” Quickly they pulled the phone away, placing it down on speaker. The two of you, and Felix, glared at the voice coming out from the other side.

“We know you have him,” Han’s voice echoed throughout the living room. He sounded serious, demanding almost, sending a shiver down your spine. That was new. “What do you want?”

“Oh, what do we want?” F/n asked. They scoffed, peering out the blinds on the opposite side of the fireplace, just next to the kitchen. Directly at Han’s estate. “That’s something you don’t hear everyday.”

Han huffed, sounding disgusted. Suddenly, Felix erupted, spitting out the bow you’d forgotten to secure. “HAN! HAN I’M OKAY!!! BUT I LOST THE STUFF AT--”

Frantically you pounced, stuffing a fistful of Kleenex in his mouth. A chorus of anxious whispers filled the other line from Jisung and his goons, before Han silenced them and got back to business.

“Felix, if you can hear me, it’s okay. I need you to take one for the team right now until I come up with something.”

Ironically and unneeded, Felix nodded, as if Han could see him. You and F/n rolled your eyes.

Suddenly, a loud splat! sent them squealing backwards.

Your jaw dropped, watching rotten egg dribble and creep down your immaculately-just-cleaned window. Felix chuckled, falling on a sour note after you elbowed him. When two more assaults hit, you ducked for unnecessary cover behind Felix, F/n plastering themselves against the fireplace.

“What do we do?!” you whispered, cringing every time an egg bomb made contact with the glass. What if by some crazy law of nature those things actually broke the window and leaked into the house?! It could take days to get the smell out. Heck, given that it was right next to the fireplace, and you had yet to test the installation of the seams...it’d likely start leaking into the house within the coming hours.

The pelts were slowly getting louder, rising in a horrifically drawn-out crescendo. “GIVE HIM BACK! GIVE HIM BACK!” you heard the goons chanting.

Were they on the roof?! You couldn’t bear this much longer. Your house was being eggified. Sullied. Disgraced. Finally cracking under the pressure, you flew some hand signals F/n’s direction that didn’t really mean anything and army-crawled to a yet-to-be-ambushed window, examining the battle situation outside before rolling back to your feet and sprinting for a backroom.

“Where are you going?!” F/n whispered harshly. S/he and Han bantered back and forth a bit, his demands of Felix’s release rattling the warfront before you returned with exactly what you’d been looking for: a megaphone. Ah, camp counselor days.

F/n saw what you were doing and instantly, wildly, vehemently shook their head no. But you were taking matters into your own hands now.

“Han Jisung,” you stated, loudly enough so your voice could travel over the massive egg-pelting outside. “Hold your fire and I’ll bring Felix outside.”

You waited a few seconds, and the firing stopped. Han’s voice practically purred over the speaker. Very disgusting. “You’re starting to see things my way. That’s good.”

“Oh yes. I’m most certainly starting to see things your way.” The phone lifted between your fingers. “We’ll meet on the roofs in five minutes. If I hear or see one more egg on my property, the meeting is off.”

“......” There was an uncomfortable silence on the other line.

You tilted your head. “Han Jisung? No deal?”

Felix whined a few feet behind you. Han sighed, clearly hearing it. “...Fine. We’ll meet you there.” Click.

You tossed the phone to F/n, who scarcely caught it, juggling it a few times on nervous butterfingers. “Alright, look,” s/he said, pacing across the room and slamming it down on the receiver. “I don’t know what kind of cockameme scheme you have planned, but…”

You smiled. “Don’t worry. I know what I’m doing.”

They sighed exasperatingly. “I’m sure you told yourself that when you let him into the house earlier, too.”

“......” You faltered, crossing your arms. “Touche. But this time, I really know what I’m doing.” With the utmost confidence and summoned strength you tilted Felix’s chair back, causing him to panic. “C’mon. Help me get this up through the attic.”

-〤〤〤-

Glitter glue. Hair dye. A bucket.

Truth be told, you actually did manage to go back and secure Felix’s belongings. It was around some point during the creation of the gigantic net at Hobby Lobby: F/n had seen them while running around, snagged it, and stashed the goods in the car without telling you.

Now, you were going to use them against the enemy. If only you knew what the wrench from Home Depot was for… “Okay, listen up,” you stated, standing proudly on your roof. F/n stood at your side, Felix in between you two, still strapped to the dining room chair. Though the Kleenex were now gone, his pie hole remained shut...with Puffs. Not the good brand, F/n had said. “We have your friend, and as you can clearly see, he’s fine. We haven’t done anything to him.”

“Yet,” Hyunjin sneered, standing atop Han’s roof. He crossed his arms at Han’s right, Fox-face (Jeongin) on the left. “I fail to see how tying him up and stuffing his mouth shut equates to not doing anything.”

“Hyunjin, enough big words,” Han moaned. “We get it, you’re good at Scrabble, and you should have won. Lay off already.”

Hyunjin growled, making a face. From the opposing roof, you lowered your mic, extending your hand left. F/n glanced sideways, placing the box of hair dye in your hand. The situation on the other side swiftly grew stiff, everyone’s eyes watching you expectantly.

“Y-Y/n...what are you doing?”

It came out as more of a statement than a question. A fretful smirk played on the corner of your lips. “Oh my, what am I doing? …”

Yours fingers got right to work tearing open the packaging. Felix turned his head as far as his binding would let him, his eyes widening and brows sinking beneath his coral-colored bangs the moment he recognized the object...and the word permanent etched within a warning sign. “Mmm! Mm-mm mmm! MMM!”

“Wait, Y/n,” F/n said, reaching out. They suddenly looked hesitant, unsure. “We never questioned him first. Shouldn’t we…”

You paused, tossing the box and plastic wrap over your shoulder. With any luck, it’d blow into Han Jisung’s yard; if not, you could just pick it up later. “What, now you’re getting cold feet?” You huffed. “You’re the one that was getting carried away before. I thought you were sick of all this crap.”

“I am...I am. I’m just saying, maybe we should have pressed him for answers before running up here.”

“After they started egging our house?! What, was I supposed to wait for toilet paper to fly through the trees and spray paint to stain our front door?!”

“No, I’m just saying—”

“I’m done talking!” Your eyes narrowed, focusing on Han’s. He was staring right back at you, an intense look residing. “I want revenge. I want action. This ends today.”

You popped the cap off the bottle of murky green liquid, Hyunjin and Jeongin both seeming to lose their posture as the cap flipped through the air, bouncing to the ground below. They started to squirm, much to your delight; though perhaps a little overdramatic; but it was about time the other side felt the same pain and turmoil you had. It’d been far too long an unjust imbalance.

But Han held his hands at peace, calming his soldiers and taking a step forward; sending the imbalance back where it was, in his favor. He cupped his hands around that loud mouth of his. “Y/n!!! Listen to me, you don’t wanna do this! ...I-I don’t think, anyway!”

He seemed nervous. Flustered. You actually had Han Jisung, Hellion of 117 Maple Street, in a nervous fluster.

The moment was sweet, rich, decadent and savory. In the air, a cool breeze blew by.

“I’m sorry? What was that?” You lifted the bottle over Felix’s head. His whole body tensed, slightly leaning away like a magnet that didn’t attract.

Han bit his lip, gaze flitting between your hand and the boy below. Behind him, Hyunjin and Jeongin watched with battered breath, biting their nails and covering the lower half of their faces. Han sighed, suddenly waving his hand behind him. “Jeongin, you shouldn’t see this. Cover your eyes. I don’t know if I can stop her.”

The boy frowned, shakily turning from Han’s voice back to you. “I-I can’t, Han...it’s too horrible, but I can’t look away.”

“Then get back inside. I’m sure Y/n will at least allow that much.”

Raising his brow at you in question, you carefully gave a single nod, watching the young fox-face go. Jeongin had never done anything to you, except for maybe participate in the egg-throwing debacle eight minutes ago. Otherwise, as far as you could tell, he was clean, just a bystander in Han’s antics.

As the roof door shut above Jeongin’s head, F/n gave you a worried look. “Y/n…” s/he said, turning to you sideways. “...Something’s not—”

“Shhh!” You spat. Your hand holding the bottle teetered towards a horizontal slant. “Not now. This makes things easier. One less groupie to worry about.”

“But Y/n—”

Felix could practically sense your movements, starting to squeal. “HAN! Please! I have an interview tomorrow and I don’t think they allow unnatural hair!!!”

F/n grunted, crossing their arms at being ignored. You listed your head to match the angle of the bottle. Revenge was so sweet. “Well, Han?”

It felt like an eternity went by. Everything was still, calm, the only noise to be heard the rustling of the trees. A distant clicking that was probably just the other neighbor’s cat. You felt like you were in a Shonen anime, where the characters face off for episodes at a time with nothing but empty heated stares and uselessly repeated banter (usually flashbacks).

“......” Han Jisung swallowed. “Okay, Y/n, stop.” He sighed. “...You win.”

A heaviness released from your chest. You...won? That was it? Was he really just surrendering right now? No surprise counterattack? No negotiations?

Instead, Han Jisung and his last remaining sidekick glared pitifully in your direction, like all hope had fleeted from their grasp. Meaning…

You won. You actually won...

The biggest smile took over the lower half of your face, so happy you could have cheered, overjoyedly so, kissing your friend’s cheek. You squealed in delight, tossing the bottle in the air and not really caring where it landed, so excited, so stoked, so—

“Ow!” a young man’s voice said.

Gasp. What was that?! That didn’t sound like Felix or...your friend...that was...wasn’t...

“Y/n!!!”

You whirled around, just in time to see Jeongin standing at the height of your roof, stuffing your friend down the ladder. He paused, similar to how Felix had in Hobby Lobby; that deer in the headlights look; and with terrified effort kicked F/n down the attic, hopping in and letting the door drop after him.

Laughter could be heard bellowing along the wind, a hurricane billowing your direction. You whirled around, flabbergasted, horrified to see Han Jisung with that coy smirk on his face, that evil glint in his eye, the long-legged Hyunjin doing a memey sort of dance, as the two of them laughing it up at your expense. Even Felix, still bound to the chair, was…

...Well, actually, he looked rather annoyed and a little pissed. “HEY!” he griped, stamping his feet. “What happened to releasing me first?! I thought that was part of the plan!”

Plan…? ……

“You mean…” You glared expressionless. “This was all setup...from the beginning? Even Hobby Lobby?”

“Duh,” Hyunjin piped, giving you an incredulous look. “We saw you and F/n heading that way, so I called Felix while Han coached Jeongin on the art of...sneaking onto other's property. We knew the two of you were probably at your breaking point, given how you were screaming all the way down the street…” He shrugged. “We figured you’d try to retaliate. It was too good to pass up.”

“......”

Anger wasn’t enough anymore. You were downright enraged, seething...and also, a bit heartbroken. A lot heartbroken. It was all planned. Your revenge was just another part of their game. They anticipated it, adjusted to it, even arranged it. It was all for not...and, what’s more…

Now they had F/n. The Fox-faced demon would be scampering out of your house and into the devil’s layer at any minute.

But he’d made a fatal mistake. You still had one of their own in your grasp.

With the utmost vexation and irritability you screamed, grabbing the bottle of hair dye from where it got caught between two shilling panels and tore the whole lid off, dumping the entire bottle into Felix’s hair. Han and Hyunjin froze in the middle of their victorious dance ritual to watch in horror as Felix screeched, trying to shake the substance out and make any feeble attempt he could to get away. You ripped open the glitter glue next, aiming it right at his scalp.

“Give F/n back right now or I’m adding glitter. Lots of it.”

“......”

Han Jisung and Hwang Hyunjin just continued to stare at you dumbfounded. Because they didn’t respond, you emptied the entire container, not caring if it seeped into the boy’s eyes as you dropped everything else for the attic door.

“OH SH*T! MY EYES! MY FACE! YOU GUYS SUCK! AHH—”

The roof latch clicked behind you.

Flying down the ladder and around the hall you ran with all your might for the front door. Surprisingly enough, however, Jeongin was having a tough time getting there himself, wrestling with F/n for a position that allowed him to keep them quiet while having the freedom to move quickly. Unfortunately for him, F/n wasn’t going down without a fight.

“Let...go…! Get…off…...ahh! Y/n!!!”

They were wrestling at the end of the hall, just above the stairs. You pushed yourself harder, faster, ready to pulverize this kid you once found cute and adorable.

Something was off, though. You noticed as you got closer. The way they fought— it was almost too carefully, like they were trying to avoid hitting something.

You found out too little too late. F/n’s eyes widened.

“Y/n, no, look out—!”

Fwoosh!

Your foot tripped over a wire, and the three of you went tumbling upwards.

You couldn’t believe you fell for the same trick twice.

-〤〤〤-

“Hold still,” Hyunjin groaned, clawing at Felix’s bindings. The boy practically refused, squirming with all his might.

“I’m holding still! I can’t see!”

“What does that have to do with being still?!”

Felix fumed.

Han Jisung made his way to the top of the ladder, rolling onto his back to catch his breath. It wasn’t like he wanted to drive Y/n to do this. Rather, he was just having a little fun, passing time, and essentially, getting to know her.

She was the girl he thought about spending quite a bit of his life with, after all.

He turned his head sideways, taking in the view of the mountains, the small forestry area, the big city on the other side. Dang it, he knew Y/n’s roof had a better view of the area. “Both of you...quit whining...for a sec…”

He fought to catch his breath. Normally he thought himself to be in pretty good shape, but maybe eating a whole cheesecake and slacking off last week for that Netflix marathon put him back a few steps. Diagonally above him, Hyunjin sighed, removing the last of Felix’s restraints. “Okay, there. You’re free now.”

Felix stood, immediately rubbing his shirt over his face and stretching his arms out wide, then his legs. He looked around.

“Something wrong?” Hyun asked. Felix began to sweat, visible from a mile away.

“Oh, gosh, you guys. I still can’t see. I think I’m legally blonde.”

“......” Hyunjin blinked. “You mean legally blind? Legally Blonde is a movie.” He glanced up at his sparkling dishwater-green hair. “Also, your hair’s green now. An ugly green. And shiny. Too shiny—”

“Both of you shhh,” Han griped, sitting up sideways. He pushed himself up all the way, stumbling diagonally as he hiked up toward the other side of the roof. “Has Jeongin come out yet? Where’s Y/n?”

“I don’t know,” Felix spoke, swatting at his surroundings. “I can’t see anything.”

“He obviously wasn’t talking to you,” Hyunjin piped. He leaned over the edge, examining the front porch, then the lawn. “...I don’t know either. I didn’t hear the front door but, then again, I couldn’t hear anything with Whines-A-Lot back here blubbering so loud.”

“Why are you in such a bad mood today? Normally you’re really sweet and chill. And why is everyone attacking me all of a sudden?! I’m the one that agreed to be the bait of this operation! Me!”

“Okay, okay,” Han waved his hands. He really hated being the responsible one, but with these two at each other's throats and Jeongin nowhere to be found, he really had no other choice. “Felix, go inside and see if you can find Jeongin. Or Y/n. Anyone.”

Felix scoffed, throwing his hands in the air like a tossed salad. “Oh, yeah. Send the blind guy in. That plan always works. Makes total sense!”

“Oh, right...uhh, Hyunjin?”

Hyunjin scrunched up his face. “No way. I’m not going in there. Breaking and entering is not going on my personal record. Pranks are fine, but I’m not violating the law. That’s your department, Mr. Fifteen-Unpaid-Speeding-Tickets.”

“......” Groaning, Han made his way to the top of the roof, kneeling just short of the peak to pull the lever. However, the door wouldn’t budge. “...It’s locked.”

“Locked?”

“Yeah, that’s what I said. Locked.” He ran a hand through his hair. “Shoot, why would she stop to lock the door? Now wh—”

“HAN JISUNG!!!”

All three college boys froze. Crouching, they whipped their heads around wildly. Even Felix. “What was that?!” He asked. “Was that Y/n?!”

“HAN!!!” Another called. Smaller, lighter, yet contradictingly more masculine. Hyunjin gasped.

“That sounded like Jeongin!”

Then, suddenly, all three missing voices meshed together, the chorus dark and booming: “LET US OUT! LET US OUT LET US OUT LET US OUT!!!”

Hyunjin jumped to his feet, kicking and pounding at the door. “Quick, open the door! We have to rescue Jeongin!”

Han’s jaw fell a little. “What about Y/n?”

“What about her?!” He grunted, hitting the door harder. “Jeongin is our first priority!”

“I thought you didn’t like breaking and entering,” Felix sneered from the back, still waving at the air like a recently-blind person would. His elder tsked, scowling.

“It’s not breaking and entering if someone’s life is in danger! Han, what the hell kind of trap did you put in there?!”

Han blinked, trying to process. Everything had gone South so quickly, curved in a direction he wasn’t expecting— he couldn’t think. His mind drew up blanks. Never in his thirteen years of pranking history had he ever not been in control of his own crafty work.

Now his work was playing a joke on him. “Han! Hello?! Earth to Jisung?”

“...I…”

“What did you do in there?!”

“......” He swallowed, barely regaining his composure. “I set up another net. Just a quick one, like the one from earlier today.”

“What?!” Hyunjin roared. “But that took me all morning! How did you do it in five minutes?!”

“I didn’t,” he replied. “I did it in four.”

Hyunjin deadpanned, smacking a hand over his face. “‘Kay…how did you manage to pull that off?”

His superior in the art of mischief fell back on his behind, staring out seamlessly at nothing in particular. Obnoxiously calm for the circumstances. “I’ve been sneaking into her house every now and then when she left the back door open. I’d set up a small part here, or a spring wire there, just small stuff out of the way that no one’d notice. They’ve hardly been home with midterms going around.”

“......” Hyunjin shook his head in disbelief. “Han, there’s no way they wouldn’t notice or not accidentally set something like that off until now.”

Han turned back to him in earnest. “I just set the final wire down this afternoon. The activation one. One of them— probably Y/n— tripped over it.”

“...If that’s true, then…”

Another sonorous from down below reached the canopies above: “LET US OUT!!!”

Hyunjin dropped back on all fours. “LET US IN!!!” he cried, pounding on the hardwood door. “Jeongin, buddy, it’s going to be oka—”

“Come on!” Han said, leaping to his feet. He grabbed Felix by the wrist, tugging the two along behind him before making a crash landing for the bushes. No time to waste now. He needed to get his act together, take a leap of faith that, maybe, if he played his cards right, Y/n could see him in a whole new light.

It would be a long shot. If he remembered to jump from the right spot, anyway. “AAAAAAAAAAAAAA!!!” Both boys screamed, clinging to each other’s sides. They hit the shrubs, bouncing forward and rolling into Y/n’s front yard.

“...Was that a trampoline???” Felix asked. Han scoffed, shoving the two off of him.

“I planted an emergency escape device in her bushes last week, just in case.” He dusted himself off, screwing his head on straight while jogging to the front porch. “What do I look like, stupid or something?”

“......” Hyunjin watched him cross to the front door, lying upside down. “Do you want us to answer that?”

“...No.”

Han rang the doorbell. Stamped his foot. Remembered all house guests and tenants were currently tied up at the moment, slapped himself, panicked. He banged his fist against the door.

“Y/n?! It’s okay! Daddy’s going to fix this!”

Hyunjin made a noise (he was full of noises), tromping up the steps while Felix rolled himself around in the yard, trying to figure out which way was up and what he should do with himself. “Did you just call yourself—”

“Yes, now shut up.” Han dug around in his pocket, pulling out a key. “Heh heh heh…”

He jimmied the lock, twisting and turning the key this way and that. But the door wouldn’t budge, not even an inch.

“Sh*t!” He grabbed his hair. “Why isn’t this working?! I made copies of her keys three weeks ago!”

Hyunjin glared sideways. “You changed out her locks two weeks ago.”

Shoot, that was right. Han kicked the door, fuming. “Dang it! ...Ow!”

He was spent. Gone. Energy depleting. And now, his foot hurt. Spinning around he banged his head against the door, sliding down to sulk on his backside.

He hadn’t meant for things to go awry. He’d just wanted to mess with Y/n, see what made her tick, have some fun. Find out what she liked, what she didn’t like, maybe get up the nerve to ask her what she was doing for dinner next Saturday so he could mess with the food at her favorite restaurant and force her to come to a candle-lit dinner in his backyard instead, where he’d have her second-favorite takeout waiting on plates of gold he’d “borrowed” from Hyunjin’s aunt.

If only things would have worked out that way. “LET US OUT LET US OUT LET US OUT!!!” the house called.

Hyun and Han shared a pitiful look, plastering themselves to the walls and door. They had no choice. There was nothing left. “LET US IN LET US IN LET US IN!!!”

“HAN JISU— …”

Quiet. That was strange. What was it quiet?! What happened?! What could have—

...Oh no. What if…!

“DON’T HURT JEONGIN!” Han screamed, pressing his nose to the glass. “PLEASE! Y/N F/N PLEASE HYUNJIN WILL KILL ME IF SOMETHING HAPPENS TO HIM!!!”

“WHAT?!” Hyunjin yelled, pressing against the glass as well. “Move over, I can’t see! WHAT ARE YOU FIENDISH PEOPLE DOING TO HIM?!”

There was no response. Han began sweating profusely, feeling his heart ready to burst in a bad way. This was it. It was over. He’d have to call the cops to have them released, and then Han would probably go to jail for twenty-seven misdemeanors and a couple felony charges. Not to mention those unpaid speeding tickets.

Chink. Clunk. Creek.

A force against him gave way, the front door magically opening. As Han and Hyunjin fell forward, a blind, sparkling, green-haired man smiled down at them, standing at the other side.

-〤〤〤-

The clamouring coming from your front door set you on edge, wiggling and slashing at the ties that bound you. And F/n. And Jeongin.

The three of you piled on top of each other in an awkward heap, you being fortunate enough to have flipped on top. “Ow! Y/n, get your foot out of my eye!” F/n cried.

Apologetically, you shifted your weight, trying to give them room in the small net. Jeongin huffed as you did, making the most cumberous and uncomfortable face as you shifted your bottom over his backside, close to his head. “This is your fault for sneaking in here and trying to kidnap F/n,” you scolded, only feeling a little sorry given the circumstances.

He blushed, perplexingly so, carefully trying to claw his way to a corner that didn’t exist. “I, um...I’m sorry…”

Like that was enough to get the three of you out of this arrangement. Rolling your eyes, you focused your attention on the front door you could just barely see, tuning your ears to adjust and pick up on anything.

“What are they saying?” F/n asked. You shrugged, huffing and puffing disorderly.

“I don’t know. I can barely hear anything. They’re whispering. They keep looking over here, though.”

“Who opened the door?! How did they get in here???”

F/n was currently squished with their head facing the opposite direction, explaining their heighted insecurity and naggingness. You sighed, squinting and rocking your weight in order to make the small flexible cage sway to better see around the corner. “I think...Felix let them in. He must have used the back door or something.”

“Son of a b*tch, Y/n!!!” F/n quietly fumed. “This is why I always tell you to make sure both doors are locked! You never think to check the back door and it drives me crazy!!!”

“I know, I know okay?! Calm down! You’re gonna draw attention!”

“HAN!!!” Jeongin suddenly screamed. “FELIX! GET ME OUT OF THIS THING!!!”

Both you and F/n panicked. “SHHHHHHHH!!!”

He regarded the two of you like you were crazy. “Just five minutes ago you were screaming too!”

F/n hissed. “Yeah, well that was five minutes ago, and this is now!”

Jeongin sighed. “Listen, this is really uncomfortable for me, especially because you’re sitting...entirely too close to me,” he spoke, “so how about I make a deal with you two?”

“No way. I don’t make deals with demons. Or vipers, or monsters, or Fox-faced devils that sneak into our house and try to kidnap me!!!”

Jeongin sighed again, letting out a slight hiss of annoyance at the end. At the base of the stairs, Han and Hyunjin started making their ascent, Felix stumbling around a bit with a bandana now over his eyes before following after them.

“Oh shoot,” you whispered. “Here they come.”

Making his way around the net once, Han paused right square before you; and there it was, that evil flirtatious wink, tongue sweeping over his lips scarcely so. “S’up, gorgeous?”

Shoot me. I want to die.

Han poked your nose, making a little annoying sound effect and laughing when you teetered backwards, swatting away at the germs he left on your face. “Aww, I think someone doesn’t like their situation very much.”

“Lay off. Get us out of this stupid thing and then get the hell out. If you don’t, I’m calling the cops.”

Han chuckled and slapped his leg like you were just the cutest little thing to him. “Oh, alright, calm down princess. You’re just sour over falling for the same trick twice.”

It burned you how much truth there was to those words. You would have spit at him if F/n wasn’t at risk of being in the line of fire. “Just shut up and get us out of here. Take your friend with you.”

Tangled up behind you, Jeongin sputtered; you could feel him roll his eyes. “Gladly,” he muttered.

After admiring your pissed-off look for a few seconds, and Han taking a few selfies for his own selfish gain, Han and Hyunjin got right to work, snipping wires here, tugging at rope there. Eventually, after a few moments of unblissful trepidation and embarrassment, the net lowered gently, falling lifelessly about a foot above ground.

The three of you groaned, F/n having the wind knocked out of them for a second. Scampering and shoving off of each other, you turned away the moment you found your legs, brushing yourself off and walking down the hall a few paces. Your feet prickled with numbness, then faded and blood rushed through.

When you turned around to check on F/n and kick everyone else out, Han Jisung had already found his way to your face. “Hey there, gorgeous. All better?”

You scowled most irately, placing your hands on his chest to push him off and startling yourself when he wouldn’t budge, and your hands just...stayed there. “Get out of here. You got us out, now you’re no longer welcome.”

“Oh, was that all you needed from me?” He smiled. Almost tenderly. Or maybe it was, you didn’t know. “I’m hurt, Y/n. I thought maybe we could...talk more. Get to know one another.”

“What?!” You tried to see around him, but he mirrored your every step and movement. When you pulled your hands away, he latched onto your wrists, placing them back. His fingers smoothed over the backs of your hands, intertwining with yours. You gulped, a feeling in your gut exploding.

“This is nice,” he said softly, giving your hands a gentle squeeze. “Isn’t it?”

It most certainly was not nice. Not nice at all! ...Yet, you were having quite a bit of trouble telling him that. His hands were so soft and...rigid...even the small calluses that sprouted along his palms and outline were somehow oddly alluring, inviting you to stay.

You shivered, bristling all over. No, no. Get ahold of yourself Y/n. This can’t happen. I can’t go down like this.

Shaking your head you shoved yourself back instead, running two steps to the right...and slamming gently into the adjacent wall. Gently. Softly. Softly slamming.

What the hell, why was everything with Han Jisung so soft all of a sudden?! You bore your eyes up at him, seeing as he was now just...inches away from you...again...g-getting closer…

His nose brushed right up against yours. A breath caught in your throat, begging to scream. Everything else in your body was. He had slithered himself to press up against you.

You’re pretty sure, even if you couldn’t feel it, your face was the darkest shade of red right now. Han undoubtedly noticed too, simpering just a fraction from your lips. “What should we do now, princess? Should we…” He inched your waist forward. “...go next door?”

Next door. Next door, where the hellhole of disasters had started.

...Something about that line just didn’t sit right with you. Feeling as if the whole moment had been ruined (and good gravy you had to get out of this), you shimmied yourself a bit of wiggle room and shot your knee skyward, wincing as a howl of pain rang out in your ear. You kicked Han back, making a run for F/n…

...Who was again, gone. Everyone was gone.

Turning around, Han gave you a childish salute, that flirtatious wink following him all the way out the front door. You couldn’t do anything. Just observe him leave in shock.

Until you heard a thump from downstairs, and raced to find Felix feeling his way around the kitchen.

“Now, I know there’s a backdoor somewhere...it was in here when I came in…”

You bore your eyes into him. Smirked.

Five minutes later, his whines echoed all through the house and down the porch steps.

-〤〤〤-

It may not have been high noon, but that didn’t stop Hyunjin and Fox-face Jeongin from turning on an old western showdown score.

You stood on your side of the property line, Felix rebound though now standing at your side. If he was miffed about his hair and the overzealous glitter drawing attention to it, he didn’t say anything. Possibly because being temporarily blind was pulling all his attention away.

On the other side, about ten or twelve meters from the line, stood Han Jisung, in all his hellion, dark-profiled glory. F/n was bound and gagged beside him, looking like a tick about to pop. You’d never seen that vein before, throbbing above their forehead. Hyunjin and Jeongin observed from afar, amongst the safety of shade and porch railing.

You lifted the megaphone you’d brought back with you from the roof. “On the count of three,” you instructed, gripping Felix’s sleeve tight.

Han Jisung cackled, or his eyes did anyway, a sparkle of humor at play. “Alright. Hostage exchange on three.”

“Okay…”

You both paced exactly twenty-something steps until you were only two feet from the line.

“One…”

“Two…”

“...Thre—”

“Wait.”

Your mind did a little flip, attention spiraling upward. “What?”

The hellion next door smirked. “I have one condition.”

“Oh?” You sputtered. “So do I.”

“Ladies first.”

You deadpanned. “Stop intervening and disturbing my life and F/n’s sanity and I won’t call the cops.”

He laughed, a very hearty, joyful sound. It sort of...made your heart spin. “That’s fair. I can agree to those terms...if you agree to mine.” You scoffed.

“And what would that be?”

Han Jisung smiled. Brighter than the sun. For once, it was almost as if he was revealing a side of his persona to you he’d kept locked away all this time; he suddenly appeared to be genuine, sincere, and oh-so benevolent. Not to mention handsome. “Go on a date with me. Saturday, at five.”

“What?!”

The world came to a crash. Everything just seemed to stop, the birds even dropping like flies to gawk at the enigma that was Han Jisung. Behind him and to the left, Jeongin and Hyunjin stared at each other in bewilderment. Felix muttered some kind of disbelief beneath his breath. F/n looked like s/he really would pop.

“Mmm?!” They shrieked. Han chuckled, ruffling his hair away from his face and casting squinted eyes out over the neighborhood.

“Yeah, uh...I’ll pick you up at five, if you like. I mean, you have to, because this is a condition. My deal. Where we’re going is a surprise, but I can give you a hint.” He leaned forward, twitching his nose a bit. “There’s a lot of action going on in the color department, and it usually gives me an allergy attack. But, I figured you may enjoy watching my face fall apart.”

“.........”

Slowly, you adjusted your gaze over to F/n. They were shaking their head wildly, though limitedly, so as not to tip off anyone.

“.........” You turned your face back to Han Jisung. “...Make it five-thirty. I have an errand to run that day.”

He bit his lower lip to keep from smiling too much. “Deal. Okay, on three. One…”

“Two…”

“Three.”

You each pushed your captives over at the same time, Felix and F/n stumbling forward over the property line. Hyunjin and Jeongin raced down into the lawn while you quickly got to work untying and freeing your housemate.

S/he turned and looked to you with the utmost confusion and disappointment in their eyes. You smiled, sadly, and turning away watched as three of the four boys embraced and spat at each other, Hyunjin and Jeongin poking and teasing Felix about his hair, and Han Jisung watching you back with stars in his eyes. Once a hellion, it was as if a great fog had lifted over the valley, and now you could see he was both day and night. A myriad of sunlight, and a mischievous moon.

“You’re not really going on a date with him,” F/n scolded, walking in sync with you up the porch steps and in through the front door. You waited until they were safely inside and halfway to the kitchen for another drink, waving and even winking in Han Jisung’s direction. It caught him off guard, and you snickered at his confused stare.

“We’ll see,” is all you said, shutting the door behind you.

-〤〤〤-

Saturday, 5:25 p.m.

Your house mysteriously felt like the Island of the Lost.

“F/n! Have you seen my hairbrush?!”

Running back and forth in front of the TV, up and down the stairs, rummaging through both bathrooms, F/n sighed, annoyed at having their early-evening talk show interrupted. They set the TV on mute. “What are you looking for? Your hairbrush?”

You nodded, heading back towards the upstairs bath. F/n jumped up from a commercial break, following you.

“How did you manage to lose your hairbrush? Sheesh, Y/n, you’ve been forgetful all day.”

You turned toward the mirror, staring worrisome eyes at the curlers in your hair, the sloppily-applied two minute makeup job on your face. F/n noticed as well, giving a small pout as s/he crossed their arms, leaning against the doorframe. “Where are you going, anyway?”

Uh-oh. “Hmm...?”

You pretended not to hear that. F/n blinked, their face falling to an unimpressed state. “I asked, where are you going?”

“......”

Downstairs, the doorbell rang. Crap. It wasn’t five-thirty yet!

F/n turned toward the sound, their brows lifting in minor surprise. “Who could that be? Are you expecting a package or anything?”

They began wandering in the direction of the staircase, but you cringed, throwing yourself as a blockade. “Ahahahahahahaha! …” Sweat. “...I-I’ll get it. You should get back to your show!”

F/n gasped, pushing past you and gracefully making a sharp left just a few feet from the door. Phew.

You peered around the corner, trying to make out the silhouette through the foggy glass.

Tall-ish. A bit on the short side. Skinny? Seemingly masculine.

It had to be him. Panic struck you like a bat out of hell, scrambling to the bathroom and ripping the curlers out of your hair. You fought through three bottles of creams and mascara while juggling your toothbrush hanging out of your mouth, rinsing, spitting, and finally flipping your hair down, shaking it loose and flipping back over.

Oh yeah. Messy-chic look. Perfect. With a touch of gloss (or lipstick) you smoothed out your casual-dressy outfit before skipping downstairs and slipping on your favorite dress shoes at the door, purse slung over your bodice.

This was it. You discreetly shifted your eyes to the left. F/n was still inthralld in their talk show. Now was your chance for a clean getaway without any awkward accusations or encounters.

Taking a deep, measured breath, you gingerly opened the door, blowing it out on the exhale. Han Jisung stood in all his new-lighted glory, his back turned to you as he examined the neighborhood, waiting.

You gave a small cough, stepping out and locking up behind you. Han turned around, his eyes widening when he saw you. “Whoa...uh…”

“Yes?” Your gaze traveled down to the flowers in his hand. “Are those for me, or an apology to F/n?”

You both laughed, Han thrusting them forward a bit forcefully. An awkward color painted a ring around his face, across his ears and along the curves of his cheeks. “Uh, b-both, I guess. ...But, mainly for you.”

He was nervous. For real this time. You smiled, taking the small bouquet and burying your face into the petals. You inhaled deeply. “...Mmm...they smell really nice!”

You beamed. For maybe five seconds. After that, a spout of water soaked your forehead.

Han Jisung pressed his lips together, trying his darndest not to laugh. His eyes avoided you entirely, observing everything but your face. A moment later, he bolted, signalling for his groupies to turn on the sprinklers. Coffee rained down on both of your lawns, dyeing both sides murky Vanilla Latte.

You chased him down the porch steps, through the caffeinated shower, laughing.

-〤〤〤-

“...And that about wraps up our show for today!”

F/n flipped the TV off, turning their gaze to the window. Is it raining already?

As they approached the window, their jaw fell. They opened the window. “Y/N!!! HAN JISUNG!!!”

...It was no use.

Pulling up a chair, they fell to their knees, observing the bizarre weather in a moment of acceptance. They extended their mug over the windowsill, sighing as the caffeinated shower refilled their morning latte.

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drabbles-of-writing · 4 years ago

Text

Scintilla

This is part of my Four Years AU

AO3

Masterpost

. . . . . . . . . . . . . .

Camilia opened the door to her home, her feet dragging on the floor.

There had been a lot of patients at the hospital today, and she was exhausted.

She paused at the entrance and felt around for the switch. She flicked on the front porch light before stepping inside and shutting the door.

She didn’t need to turn on that light, but it had become routine. It made her feel safer. Knowing that on the off chance that Luz came by, she’d see the light left on for her.

‘It’s been four years,’ Whispered a tired part of her mind. ‘How long are you going to do this?’

Camila flopped onto the couch with a groan, far too tired to make it much further inside. She flipped on the lamp by the couch, but aside from that and the porch light, her house was completely dark.

She hated coming home.

Four years ago, when she’d come home late like this, she’d find Luz waiting for her. She’d scold her daughter and tell her she should be in bed. Luz would protest and say she wanted to make sure she made it home.

Camilia would sigh, ruffle her hair, and thank her. Then she’d tell her to head to bed before she tucked in herself.

The house felt far too quiet now. Far too empty.

Her work friends had started saying she should move. Find a smaller, cheaper house. There were too many painful memories at her house now.

Camilia would always shake her head and say she couldn’t. What if Luz came home and she wasn’t there?

Her friends would then look at each other and tell her to think about it.

They thought Luz was dead.

And Camilia couldn’t blame them.

A fourteen year old girl up and vanishing on her way to a shady summer camp? What are the odds she’s survived after four years? There was no ransom, no clues, nothing.

The camp might be closed but the wounds were still there.

Her one solace were her two elderly neighbors, Dottie and Roselle. They were a bit crazy, what with their house full of cats, but they were kind. Luz loved visiting their cats and playing with them in the garden when she was younger. They were both distraught when they heard of her disappearance.

They supported Camilia in her endeavours. Though recently, nowadays they’d only smile when she’d bring up Luz.

“There’s always hope,” Roselle would say simply. “And that’s better than nothing, isn’t it?”

They weren’t confident in her return, either.

Camilia had become very aware of the time left for Luz to return. In three years, she’d likely be pronounced legally dead. And Camilia wasn’t ready for the police to start officially searching for a dead body.

Though she figured many of them already were.

For years, Camilia wondered if it was her fault. She never should’ve sent Luz on that bus. Another part of her wondered if Luz really had run away.

But where would a fourteen year old run to? Luz was naive, but she wasn’t stupid. Far from it. She wouldn’t have picked up any horrendous jobs that old men off the street would offer her. Could she have fled the state? Wound up in an orphanage? Integrated with a different family?

Did she hate her own mother that much?

‘Wouldn’t be a big surprise,” Her thoughts hissed. ‘She must’ve thought you hated her. Hated how she acted.’

Camila had tried every police force she knew. Ones nearby and closer to the camp. Many had dwindled back after only a week. And after barely a few months, barely anyone talked about Luz’s disappearance.

After all, who cares about a weird lonely latina girl going missing?

Camila pinched the bridge of her nose and sighed, taking off her glasses. She couldn’t think like this now. Couldn’t fall back into wallowing in her misery. It had taken long enough to get herself out of it in the first place.

She owned Dottie and Roselle a lot for helping her out of that one.

Camila slowly stood up, her joints protesting. She should probably have dinner. But she was way too tired to make anything now.

Almost on a whim, she glanced on the window by the couch.

She blinked and lifted her head. Camilia squinted her eyes and put her glasses back on.

Off in the distance, somewhere among the tree, she swore she saw a flicker of light.

The more she stared, the more positive she was. A light was flickering in and out somewhere in the forest. It wasn’t getting closer or further away, just staying there, hovering.

‘Luz?’ Her optimistic side wondered.

‘Oh come on,’ Her pessimism stamped it down. ‘It must be some teenagers goofing off. ’

The point was that there was something in those woods. And Camilia was never one to let things slide like they never happened.

Her first thought was to call the police. But if it ended up being nothing, they’d just be more annoyed with her than they already were with her insistent calling every month to see if there was anything on her daughter.

Camilia quickly rummaged through her drawers and pulled out her pepper spray. And as an extra measure, grabbed one of the knives from the kitchen and made sure her phone was recording from her pocket.

Maybe it was overkill to some, but she wasn’t taking any chances.

She opened the front door and stepped back, illuminated in the porch light as she gazed towards the woods.

The woods was one of the few places Luz didn’t adventure in, as Camilia strictly forbade it. She already caused enough trouble everywhere else, she didn’t want to know what happened in the forest.

And here she was, hurrying towards a mysterious light coming from said forest.

Camilia stopped at the edge of the trees, fiddling with the peppery spray in her pocket. She glanced back towards her house light one last time before making her way through the trees.

As Camilia walked closer, she found she could hear something as well.

It was distorted and strange, like the cutting out dialogue of a glitching tv.

At first it just sounded like crashing and breaking, and it was faint. Camilia kept her knife in front of her as she wound through the trees before finding an open path and following it.

Then, among the distorted crashing, she heard a voice.

“Stay back!”

Camilia froze for a moment.

Then she picked up the pace.

Camilia could hear distorted shouts and threats along with the chaos, and increasingly she grew worried. Was someone being mugged? Maybe she should call the--

The path ended. And standing in front of her was a small, broken, run-down house.

Camilia blinked at it, surprised. The police had combed the woods when Luz first vanished, and they had mentioned an old building, but it didn’t look like anyone had used it for decades.

A light flashed from the broken windows.

“Don’t you dare!” The same voice from before shouted. “You can’t--!”

Whoevers voice was cut off as the light flickered, dying out for a moment before spiking up again.

“Hello?” Camilia called, holding out her knife as she approached the house. “I’m calling the police!” She warned, pulling her phone out of her pocket and stopping the video, instead getting ready to type in 911.

Whoever was in the house didn’t respond, and the light became less frequent as it flickered in and out.

“...hello?” Camilia called again, slowly walking up the steps. “Is everything alright in--”

Blinding.

The house erupted in a bright, blinding light. Camilia shouted and dropped her knife and almost her phone as she covered her eyes, taking a step back.

Accompanying the light was a scream. A horrifying, sickening scream.

Then, just as suddenly as it arrived, the light and scream vanished in a snap.

Camilia blinked, lowering her hands and blinking her eyes.

The only other sound's were the wind blowing through the trees.

Camilia swallowed and inched over to one of the broken windows, momentarily forgetting her knife as she peered in.

Nothing.

There wasn’t a single thing in the house. Not even any furniture.

“What?” Camilia whispered.

She picked up the knife again and opened the door, walking in as she tapped the call button on her phone.

As the phone rang, Camilia looked around in confusion.

That was, until, she looked down.

In the center of the floor was a massive scorch mark. Accompanying it were scratch marks, both human and animalistic. The claw marks were longer than her arm.

The scorch mark was very, very fresh. She could still see bits of ember on the wood.

“Nine one-one,” The operator picked up. “What’s your emergency?”

Camilia slowly lifted the phone to her ear, never taking her eyes off the floor.

“I’d like to report suspicious activity,” She said. “I think...I think someones been attacked.”

God, she hoped her pessimism was right.

#the owl house #owl house #toh #drabble post #my writing #camilia noceda #camilia #luz noceda #the owl house luz #four years au #light #angst #ish #mystery

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ss-wingman · 4 years ago

Text

The Intruder

I have been writing this thing on and off for the last year and a half. Formaggio x Reader Fic that has been on the backburner for a long time, that I had mentioned wanting to write once.

Summary: Mistaking your apartment for another, an unwanted guest somehow gets into your apartment, ruining your plans for the night.

---

You let out a heavy sigh as you pushed the door to your apartment open. Finally. The day was almost over. Work had been tiring, traffic was a nightmare... even the two little grocery bags were starting to feel heavy. But, you were finally home. As soon as you put the groceries a way, you'd intended to wash off the stress of the day, slip into something comfortable and enjoy some dinner and a movie with your beloved cat curled in her usual spot on the arm of your couch.

The thought alone was enough to put a smile on your face, but the sound of clattering coming from your kitchen followed by a muffled voice quickly wiped it away. In a quick moment of panic, you'd accidentally dropped your groceries in a vain attempt to stop the door behind you from slamming shut, alerting the intruder to your presence.

An unfamiliar red head peered out from behind the kitchen, a confused and slightly out-of-it look on his face.

On instinct, you reached for the mace you'd kept on your person and aimed it straight for the intruder. “Who are you and how the hell did you get in my house?” You demanded in as stern a voice as you could muster while your free handed searched for your phone. “I'm calling the police if you don't answer me!”

“What- Melone didn't tell me he moved.”

Your question seemed to go right over this stranger's head, but the name he spoke rang a bell; Melone, your neighbor from the floor just about yours. Less panicked now, you could faintly make out the quickly fading hint of alcohol in the area and the slightest tint of pink on his cheeks. The dots connected quickly. You relaxed just a bit, but didn't lower the spray.

“I- think you have the wrong apartment, sir.”

“I do?”

“You do.”

He moved to get a little closer, but you stopped him. “Don't make any sudden movements! I'm going to make a quick call and you are going to stay right there.”

The man nodded and muttered out an OK, before doing the exact opposite of what you'd ordered as he began to follow around your cat, who'd come to investigate all of the commotion. You were tempted to stop him, but if that was the worse he was going to do for now, you could handle it.

You dialed in the number Melone had given you just in case you ever needed his “company”. You hadn't taken him up on the offer – he wasn't exactly your type – but you did keep it for... well, you guessed emergencies like this.

“Pronto, you got Melone.”

“Hey there, Melone, it's [Y/N]. From downstairs.”

“[Y/N]? Now, isn't this a pleasant surprise. I was getting worried you'd never call. To what do I owe the pleasure?”

“I think one of your friends is here looking for you.” You didn't miss the disappointed huff from his end, but you chose to ignore it. “Shaved, red hair? Probably piss drunk, right now?”

“That's him.”

“Formaggio. So that's where he snuck off to.”

“Do I want to know the story behind this?”

“I was supposed to go pick him up from the bar. But I guess he went over to my place, instead. Or tried to. At least he made it to the right building.”

“Yes, good for him. Can you come get him? I don't exactly want a drunk stranger in my house.”

“Don't worry, he's harmless and I'm not too far away. Just keep an eye on him so he doesn't wander off and I'll be right there.”

You glanced over at Formaggio, once again in the kitchen, this time trying to coax your cat down from her spot on top of the fridge. “Come here, sweetie, just one pat.”

You knew you had no reason to say yes and you could probably just leave him to wait outside Melone's door, but that would be cruel.

“Half an hour, got it?”

“Ah, grazie, [Y/N]. I promise I won't be long.”

“You know you owe me for this, right?”

“Don't worry that, I'm sure we can work something out.”

And with that, you hung up on him, leaving you with a choice: either kick this intruder, Formaggio, out despite your promise and enjoy the rest of your night or spend the next half hour or so essentially babysitting. Against any and all better judgment you gave in, resigning yourself to your fate.

'Always have to be the nice one, don't you?'

You bent down to pick up the remnants of your groceries. Luckily only a few things had spilled but the bags themselves were still somewhat in tact. You walked to the kitchen and set them down onto the counter.

“Hey... um, Formaggio, right?”

He turned over to you at the call of his name. In his distraction, your cat managed to escape. He tried to give chase, again but you blocked him, finally getting his full attention.

“Leave her, please. You're lucky I had her claws filed.” You let out an annoyed huff. “All right, listen. Melone is going to be here in a little while to pick you up. So, for now, you're going to be here, ok?”

Formaggio thought over the situation for only a moment before smiling and leaning a little closer to you. “No problem with me. Who would I be to complain about getting to spend the night with a cutie like you?”

You stopped his arm before he could sling it around your shoulder. “I will mace you, don't temp me.”

With your grip on his arm still firm, you dragged Formaggio into your living room. “Ah, be gentle.”

You didn't respond. You simply sat him down on the end of the couch and took a seat for yourself at the other end. You had no intentions of even trying to relax, now, with your night pretty much ruined. You would rather just wait it out, quietly, until this intruder was gone and you can get back to the night you had planned. You flipped on the TV so there was something on in the background, at least, and let yourself sink into the couch, arms folded.

“Hey now, beautiful, what's with the sour face?” Formaggio asked, scooting closer to you. You didn't even turn to look at him when you responded. “Well, you kind of ruined my whole night.”

Formaggio closed the gap between you, leaning over just slightly. “What if I promise to make it up to you? Tomorrow night if you're free.”

You glared over in his direction, but he only smiled and winked at you.

“Come on, angel, I'm good company.”

You pushed Formaggio away from you. “Arms length or you're out of here.”

The next few minutes were mostly quiet after that, with the two of you on opposite ends of the couch. You kept glancing over at your guest through the corner of your eye, just to make sure he didn't make any sudden movements, but Formaggio was mostly still, sulking in his corner. He seemed to be thinking of something, but what you couldn't tell. Now that you'd had a moment to calm down, you'd took a second to look him over. He was, all things considered, kind of handsome. The kind of guy you could give a second look if you passed him by.

A few more quiet minutes and he turned to you with a curious look on his face.

“Oi, cutie, what's your name?” He spoke up. You turned to him.

“You ask that only now?”

Formaggio shrugged in response, “I mean, if you don't wanna give it, I'm sure I can think of plenty more ways to call you beautiful.”

You fought the blush creeping on your face and turned away from him. You gave him your name under your breath, earning a light chuckle from him.

“Don't act cute; you still, somehow, broke into my house. How did you even do that?”

“What can I say? I'm a man of many talents.”

You rolled your eyes at him in response. “Apparently being humble isn't one of them.”

“Ooh, got me there.” Here laughed. You must've been getting tired because it almost sounded kind of cute when he did.

“Are you always this obnoxious?”

“I'm just being friendly.”

You almost jumped up when you heard a knock at your door.

“All right, where is he?” Melone asked.

“Over there.” You moved from the door way to turn to Formaggio. “Hey, your friend's here. Come on so you can go.”

“Aw. I thought we were bonding.” Formaggio got up from his spot and walked over to you to. You made way to let him out. He was pouting as he walked you by but turned just slightly to wink to you once more before joining Melone's side.

“He wasn't too much trouble, was he?”

You shook your head. “No, it's fine, just... you two go already, all right?” You motioned your hands to shoo them away. “Have fun doing whatever, boys, I have a night to enjoy.”

They both bid you farewell and you retreated back into your home. Well, that certainly was... something.

The following morning, you woke up late to the sound of knocking on your door. Formaggio stood in front of you, a slightly bashful look on his face. “Hey, uh... {y/N], right?”

You leaned against the frame of your door, still tired, but you nod and waited for him to respond.

“I, uh, just came by to say sorry about last night.” He gave you a nervous smile. “Hope I wasn't too much trouble.”

You thought for a second then shook your head. “Don't worry about it. It's... fine.” You yawned. You stretched a bit, eyes closed so you missed the quick glance up and down your body.

“I see you're still tired, so I won't stay long, but I do kinda of remember promising to make up for dinner if you want.”

You looked at the time on your phone then back at Formaggio. A moment of silence before you gave in and answered. “Give me a few minutes to get ready and we can make it breakfast. There's a bar right across the street you can take me to.”

Formaggio instantly perked up. “Take your time; I got all day.”

You motioned for him to follow you in and pointed out his previous spot from the previous night. “Sit there. I'll be right out, OK?” You said before disappearing to the back of your house.

“Can do.” You heard from the living room.

You weren't sure why you agreed; maybe you were just tired or maybe he grew on you. Whatever it was, you felt a bit of excitement start to bubble in your chest. It was probably nothing, you though, but that didn't stop you from smiling or the butterflies in your stomach from fluttering.

“Keep it together. It's not even a date.” You murmured to yourself.

But would you really mind if it was?

#long post #formaggio #guest appearance by melone #he lives in the appartment right above your #s #and also reader has a cat #fic #not a requests

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returnto-dust · 5 years ago

Text

Three in the Morning

Summary: Set right at the beginning of season 1. Reader’s back in Hawkins after graduating from college a couple months ago. As she searches for a more permanent job, she works part-time at the police station. She loves the job, despite the... history between her and her boss, Chief Hopper. A troublemaker in high school, she’s had her fair share of run ins with Hop in the past. But, that’s just it: it’s all in the past. Or is it?

Pairing: Jim Hopper x unnamed female character

Word Count: 3553

Warnings: smut (18+), car sex, cursing, three OCs (is that a warning?)

A/N: this is probably OOC Jim because I’ve never written him before, but i had a lot of fun writing this! I hope you enjoy it!

Based on the dialogue prompts: “It’s three in the morning.” and “I’ve been waiting a long time.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The wind is howling but the rain hasn’t come yet. Hawkins is alive with tension tonight, search parties out and about looking for the missing Byers boy. She feels bad for Joyce, she does, but there’s something else on her agenda tonight, else she’d be out there with the rest of the volunteers, right alongside her boss, Chief Hopper.

She’s only been working at the station for a couple months, but she loves the job, despite how mundane it seems some days. She files documents and fetches coffee and lunch for the deputies and Hopper, and even for Flo when she’s too busy taking bogus calls from nosy neighbors and old cat ladies.

But it hadn’t been easy getting the job, regardless of her qualifications. She’d just graduated college and moved back home to Hawkins before applying to the help wanted sign outside the window of the station. She’d hesitated at first, her reckless past weighing heavy in her mind as she contemplated calling the station from her new living room. But she needed to pay the rent and eat somehow, and there was no way she would get her old job back at Melvald’s General Store. So she sucked it up and called in, snagging an interview for the next morning.

Luckily, Deputy Callahan gave the interview. If it had been Chief Hopper, he would’ve sent her packing the second she walked through the door. But she got the job, and a week later, when Hopper finally decided to show up to work, he just looked at her with disdain, shook his head, grumbled low in his throat, and slammed his office door behind him.

Now, six months later, she makes a decent living working a job she enjoys, even though her boss still doesn’t trust her, or give her the time of day. She doesn’t blame him though, not necessarily, but it is annoying and frustrating to deal with on a daily basis. She wishes things could be different.

She’s thinking of all this as she treads down the sidewalk of Hawkins town square. It’s nearing two in the morning, and she’s shivering under her dark coat. She wouldn’t even be out here if it weren’t for the phone call that interrupted her dinner. She’s grumbling now, hands shoved deep in her pockets, hood up to protect her ears from the wind. Dammit, Cindy. This better be worth it.

There’s laughter and the flickering of flashlights up ahead, Cindy’s tell-tale snort, followed by the low timbre of a male voice. She rolls her eyes. Of course, Cindy’s brought along her boyfriend, Micheal. She continues walking until she turns the corner into the alleyway behind the library. Sure enough, Cindy and Micheal are there, now locked at the lips, also joined by Jeremy, who shakes his head at the couple and pretends to gag at the sight.

She chuckles and it catches his attention. He strolls over and throws an arm across her shoulders, leading her further into the alley. There’s a spotlight set up, aimed toward the brick wall of the library, shining bright. Several cases of beer are stacked next to it, with an open duffel bag in front of the wall. As they get closer, she can see the spray painted graffiti on the brick, the cans of paint thrown haphazard into the bag. Her stomach drops.

“Hey, look who finally decided to show up!” Jeremy teases, squeezing her shoulders and moving around her to pick up a beer. He holds it out for her, but she shakes her head. She looks at her best friend in question, an eyebrow raised high.

“Oh, come on! Don’t look at me like that! I told you we were just having a little bit of fun,” Cindy says, flipping her hair over her shoulder and skipping over to stand in front of her. “C’mon, have a drink! It’ll be just like old times.” Cindy takes her hands and tries to pull her toward the paint, but she stands her ground. Cindy huffs and crosses her arms over her chest.

“What are you doing? We’re not in high school anymore,” she says, looking at all three of them. She can understand the appeal, but to actually come out here and do it? After all this time? They’re not kids anymore.

“We’re just trying to have some fun. Geez, lighten up,” Michael insists, popping open a can of beer.

She scoffs. “Some fun? This is illegal, you know. And this isn't the first time, is it?” She’s filed multiple reports of graffiti sightings around town. Never would she have guessed it was her old high school friends.

“You think you’re all high and mighty now that you work at the station? Whatever, buzzkill,” Michael tosses his can to the ground. “Let’s get out of here.” He throws an arm over Cindy’s shoulders and they start walking away.

“Way to ruin the party,” Cindy tosses over her shoulder.

Jeremy steps around her, walking slowly backwards out of the alley. “You’re not gonna tell anyone about this, are you?”

She sighs. “Just get out of here, Jeremy.”

He jogs off to catch up with the others.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

She’s tossed all the empty beer cans in the garbage and moved the other cases to the sidewalk. Free beer for anyone who wants it. She regrets not taking her car, because now she has to leave the spotlight and the graffiti on the wall. Despite their foolish behavior, she doesn’t want her friends to get in trouble.

She turns the spotlight off just as a car drives by the alleyway. “Shit.” She rushes to zip up the bag of paint cans, throwing a strap across her shoulders and booking it out of the alley.

But it’s too late. The Chevy Blazer has already backed up, and Chief Hopper is rounding the car just as she slows to a walk. Shit. She wishes there was a dumpster or something, so she could ditch the bag, but of course, she has no luck. Hopper pulls out a flashlight and clicks it on, and shines it directly in her face.

She’s blinded momentarily, raising a hand to block out the light. He lowers it from her face, but keeps it shining on her so he can see, his eyes shifting down to the bag on her shoulder. “It’s three in the morning. What are you doing out here?”

She needs to think fast, because she knows how this looks, and she knows he knows about her past. They’ve been in this exact position before, only four years ago. Except this time, she’s innocent. “Um… just out for a stroll.” Fuck. Not smooth.

He looks her up and down, and then shines the light down the alleyway behind her. “At three in the morning?”

She sighs and pinches the bridge of her nose, letting the bag drop to the concrete below. “Look, Hop, I know how this looks-,”

“Really? Cause it looks like you were out here maybe doin’ some recreational art,” he puts one hand on his hip where his cuffs glint in the light.

Dammit, Cindy, you are so dead! “Okay, now, before we jump to conclusions, this is definitely not what it looks like.”

Hopper raises a brow and makes a show of shining the light at the graffiti on the wall, then down at the bag on the ground. “Oh yeah? Unzip the bag.”

She shakes her head. “I’m not gonna do that.”

His jaw clenches. “No? Because there’s spray paint in there?”

“Of course there’s spray paint in there!” she throws her hands up in exasperation. “But it’s not mine!”

He already has the cuffs unhooked from his belt and is moving closer. “Mmhmm, sure it ain’t. Turn around,” he motions with his hand for her to spin around.

She shakes her head wildly, holding her hands out in front of her. It gives him the perfect opportunity. He slaps a cuff on one wrist and twists her arm around, shoving her face first into the brick wall, securing the other wrist.

“Stop! This isn’t fair! You’re not listening to me!”

“Yeah, yeah, I’ve heard it all before,” he pulls her away from the wall and escorts her forward by the shoulder. They stop by the passenger side of his truck. “Wait here.” He leaves her there to retrieve the bag of paint cans, tossing it in the back of the truck before coming back around to stand in front of her. “Now, you wanna start tellin’ the truth here?”

“I am telling the truth! It wasn’t me!” she looks up at him with wide, pleading eyes.

“I’d be more inclined to believe you if I hadn’t just found you with the evidence at the scene of the crime,” he presses on her shoulder to get her to lean back against the truck.

“Please, Hop, you have to believe me! I’m not that same girl, I don’t do this stuff anymore.”

He takes a moment to search her eyes, then he pulls her away from the truck and turns her around. He lifts her hands up as much as they will go and shines the light on them. No paint residue. He turns her back around. “Can you prove it?”

Screw it. If Cindy got her into this mess, she can get her out of it. “Yeah, yeah. I know who did it. They’ve been doing it all over town.”

“Who?”

“Do you remember the group I used to run with in high school?”

“How could I forget? It was always the four of you when something went wrong in Hawkins.”

She chuckles, “We had to give you something to do.”

Hopper rolls his eyes, but the corner of his mouth lifts in a small smile. “So it’s them then? Cindy, Michael, and Jeremy?”

She nods. “Yes. Cindy invited me out to have some fun. I had no idea this was what she had in mind. They’d already painted the wall before I got here.”

He purses his lips and squints at her, rolling over her story in his mind.

“I swear Hop, it was them. I don’t have to spray paint walls or steal cases of beer to get your attention anymore,” oh shit. That wasn’t supposed to come out. She can feel her face burning. Thank god for the dark.

“Oh yeah? That why you made my life a living hell your senior year?” there’s a playfulness in his voice. He’s teasing her.

“Oh, god. I’m never gonna live this down,” she whispers. “Yes, okay? I wanted your attention. You think I did all that stuff just for fun? I could barely get into college with my record.”

He laughs out loud and makes her turn around again. Seconds later, her wrists are free, and she rubs the soreness out. “I can’t believe you went through all that trouble just for me.”

“Well, it was the only way I could get you to look at me,” she admits, refusing to meet his eyes. “You were new in town and married. I’m not a homewrecker. And I was just a kid. It was fun, playing cat and mouse, even though I knew I could never be with you.”

“Is that why you wanted to work at the station?” he tries to catch her eye, but she still won’t look at him.

Damn, way to put a girl on the spot. “It’s not the only reason,” she chuckles and rubs the back of her neck, finally meeting his eyes. “I do need the money.”

A gust of wind blows by and she shivers, burrowing further down in her coat. “Why don’t I give you a ride home?”

“Okay.” He opens her door for her and waits for her to climb in before he closes it and walks around to the driver’s side. He sits in front of the wheel in silence for a few seconds. “Hop?”

He slowly turns to look at her. “Get over here.”

The chill leaves her body, and suddenly she’s on fire from head to toe. “What?” Her mouth is dry.

“You heard me,” he rests one arm on the back of the seat, the other on the door, opening up the space around him.

Her heart races in her chest, pounding in her neck and in her head. There’s a tsunami of nerves in her stomach, and she doesn’t know whether to laugh or to cry. “Really?”

He smiles, “yeah, really.”

She searches his eyes, and nods her head, pulling her legs up under her to sit on her knees, crawling over the seat towards him. He grows impatient and wraps his arms around her waist, pulling her into his lap. She yelps in surprise, bracing herself with hands on his chest. He laughs with her, resting his hands on her hips. She has trouble meeting his eyes, practically trembling in his hands.

“Hey, look at me,” he tilts her chin up and their eyes meet. “It’s okay. You’ve got my attention.”

She bites her lip, shaking her head at the situation she’s found herself in. “I thought… I thought you hated me.”

“No, of course not. I thought I couldn’t trust you. I wanted to,” one hand finds its way under her jacket, rubbing up and down her back over her shirt.

“Yeah? Six months, and I thought it was all one sided,” she slides one hand up his chest, tangling in the hair at the base of his neck.

“You grew up. You’re right, you’re not that little girl anymore.”

“You never said anything,” she adjusts herself in his lap, one knee on either side. She can feel the muscles in his thighs flexing with every movement, and it sends a shiver down her spine.

“Wasn’t sure how you felt, didn’t want to make things weird,” he scoots down a little in the seat and takes his hat off, tossing it up onto the dashboard. There's a tension in the air now, shifting tides now that they’ve admitted everything.

“What now?” she licks her lips and his eyes follow the action. His hands grip her hips.

“Well, I can take you home, and we can call it a night. Or, if you want, I can kiss you… and we can see where things take us,” he raises a brow, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear.

She flicks her eyes between his and his lips, “Or I can kiss you.” He’s smiling as she leans down and captures his lips with her own, holding his jaw with both hands. He opens his mouth to her, and her tongue finds his, massaging them together. He groans and pulls her body closer, their tongues swirling around. She gives an experimental roll of her hips, finding a bulge already formed in his khakis. She moans into his mouth, their lips parting just inches, breathing in each other’s air, foreheads pressed together.

She rolls her hips again, harder this time, and he growls, fingers digging into her hips. She pulls back from him, smirk on her swollen lips. She makes a show of unzipping her jacket, sliding it off her shoulders and tossing it onto the floorboard.

“Are you sure?” Hop asks, fingers pulling her shirt from the waistband of her jeans.

“I’ve been waiting a long time. I’m not waiting any longer,” she pulls the shirt over her head and it joins the jacket on the floor.

Hopper finds himself speechless, hands on her sides and stomach, back and shoulders. Countless times he’s imagined himself in this scenario, and he never thought he’d actually get to do it. She leans in and presses a kiss to the corner of his mouth, then his chin, down his jaw, to his neck, sucking gently, trying to find the spot that makes him tick. He leans his head back and moans softly when she kisses the spot just under his right ear, working gently at it until there’s a small purple patch of skin left behind.

“Take this off,” she tugs on the collar of his uniform shirt, and he quickly gets to work on the buttons, fingers fumbling when she rocks her hips back and forth, running her fingers through his hair.

He finally gets it undone, and leans forward to slide it off, pushing her into the steering wheel, causing the horn to blare. They both startle, Hopper’s arms wrapping protectively around her waist, and then they’re laughing, so hard they have to clutch at their sides.

“Oh, man,” he has tears in the corners of his eyes. “Sorry about that.”

She waves him off with a smile, pulling his white t-shirt out of the waistband of his pants. “This next, Hop.”

The shirt gets caught around his head, but he pulls it over to find her unbuttoning her jeans, lowering the zipper, and pushing them down as far they will go with her sitting in his lap. Everything she’s doing makes his cock swell, and he groans at the sight of her matching bra and panties. She looks up and meets his eyes, smiling sweetly at him. “Give me a sec.”

She climbs off his lap and sits back in the passenger seat, toeing off her sneakers. She pushes her jeans the rest of the way down and off, picking her socks off as well, before crawling back into his lap.

“Damn,” he breathes, hands back on her hips, thumbs dipping below the waistband of her panties.

She chuckles, “Kiss me again, Hop.”

He does, licking her lips first, then firmly pressing his lips to hers, squeezing her ass and rocking her into him. She moans into his mouth, their tongues dancing again, nails scratching down his chest to his belt. It jingles and jostles as she undoes it, pulling it from the pants and tossing it aside, popping the button and lowering the zipper.

They break apart again so he can lift his hips, pushing the pants and underwear down just enough to let his cock spring free. He groans as the cold air hits it, looking up to watch her remove her bra, throwing it in the back. His mouth finds her nipples, licking and sucking and nibbling until she’s a moaning mess above him. She’s light-headed and breathless when he pulls away, clit throbbing with need for him.

“Hop, I wanna ride you.”

He could cum right then and there, but then he wouldn’t get to feel her wrapped tight around him. “Whatever you want, baby.”

She grips his cock and strokes him a couple times, using his precum as lube. He’s hard as a rock, warm and heavy in her hand, pulsing with every stroke. His head falls back until he feels her climbing up, the warmth from her pussy right above his cock. She’s using two fingers to pull aside her panties, the other hand holding his cock at the base. Hopper replaces her hand with his, guiding his cock and she sinks down, taking him in inch by inch. She’s soaking wet, whining low in her throat. She buries her head in the crook of his neck, breathing heavy, gripping his shoulder. She’s wrapped impossibly tight around him, he can feel every inch of her, her walls fluttering, her thighs quivering.

“Shit, Hop, you feel so good.”

He groans low and deep, their hips now flush together. He grips her ass as she lifts her hips, almost coming completely off of him, before dropping back down. The windows are fogged up, and they’re both breathing heavy. He guides her hips and she continues the motion, taking him slowly at first then picking up the pace.

“That’s it, baby. Just like that. You’re doing so good,” he praises, fingers digging into her ass, lifting her off, then pulling her back down, their thighs slapping together. She’s moaning right into his ear, every little sound going right to his cock. He’s throbbing, not sure how much longer he can hold on.

“Oh shit, Hop, you’re gonna make me cum!”

He growls, one hand moving to grip her tit, pinching her nipple, making her whine. Her walls are clamping down around him, her hips faltering with every movement. She’s got a hand down to massage her clit, fingers brushing his cock.

“Hold on, baby, I’m almost there,” he’s sweating and his thighs are straining.

“You make me feel so good, Hop. You gonna cum for me? You gonna cum inside me?” she’s whispering in his ear, walls tightening impossibly around him.

There’s a tightening in his stomach, and he pulls her down flush on his cock as he cums hard inside her, her teeth clamping down on his shoulder to muffle her scream as she squeezes him, milking him for all he has. He groans loud and long, nails raking down her back.

It’s several long seconds before either of them are back on earth. She pulls back to look at him, a sheepish smile on her pink lips. “Good?”

His head falls back to the seat, hand caressing her sides. “Amazing.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The next morning at the station, Hopper greets her with a pleasant ‘good mornin’ before heading back to his office. She can’t keep the smile off her face, and she avoids the eyes of everyone else in the office for the rest of the day.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

I hope you enjoyed! Feel free to like, comment, or reblog if you did! Please do not repost!

#jim hopper x reader #jim hopper #hopper x reader #stranger things fanfiction #stranger things #jim hopper fanfiction #mine #my fic

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captainjimothycarter · 4 years ago

Note

I really love that Peggy and Sousa encounter each other in the future post 😍

I had to go back so many posts to find this post, lmao. This is a long one! 4k! This is so not what you wanted but I couldn’t stop writing???

Chaos was a normal way of life for Peggy. She had already accepted that when she signed up for the war, following Michael’s death. Being a codebreaker beforehand was hard enough and she was good at it, Peggy was good with her hands but it wasn’t enough. There was always that itch in the back of her head that just reminded her there was more that could be done and unfortunately, it took the death of her brother to realize what exactly she should be doing.

Then she met Steve, a scrawny Brooklyn Native who didn’t look like he should be breathing much less standing beside Dr. Erksine who insisted this is who he wanted for his experiment. It took very little convincing before this absolute mad man was nodding eagerly about this experiment, promising to keep the details under lock and key. As quickly as she met and no matter how hard she tried not to admit it, she lost Steve. A part of her heart went down with him in that plane and no promise to recover. To just move on because she had to.

Or so, Peggy thought.

Time travel was an idea of fiction on paper. She didn’t think it was real or something possible. Why would she? It was an amusing idea, one even Howard had tinkered with, yet as all ideas are, there is some truth to them. There had to be or otherwise, Peggy was insistent she was going mad here because Steven Grant Rogers was standing on her doorstep wearing clothes a size too big and with a bouquet of roses in hand.

The shattering teacup was the last thing she remembered.

That night, there was a long, long talk. One that went far on until they were both hoarse and bags under their eyes from lack of sleep. In reality, she was afraid to sleep. If she closed her eyes, Steve might disappear. This might be some hallucination from her imagination but every touch to his skin felt real whereas she couldn’t touch him before. He felt real when it came to the body heat and his heart. So, in conclusion, he had to be real, she just couldn’t accept it because he could easily be taken away.

There was this tale he spun for her. One about the future, about being frozen for so long, about how he fought in new wars, worse than their own, how the organization she was building in secret was destroyed from the inside out, how he had a key hand to it [and how very apologetic and downright hurt he looked by telling her this], how he has lost and gained, just to lose again, and how he got here. Time travel of all foolish things. And she wasn’t sure what was worst, the fact that he was here or the fact that she believing him.

Or the fact that she was going with him.

There was no other word for this beyond selfish but Steve had assured her that she wasn’t. Selfish wasn’t helping the greater good, he assured. They could rebuild Shield with the help of some new friends, start their life together. He would be there. And yet her life here? In this single, dreary apartment where the front door didn’t close all the way and her neighbor’s cat had snuck in and sprayed her bedsheets? Well, she didn’t think she was leaving much behind, so she agreed.

Steve did try to warn her. He did try to tell her about the future and the insane technology, not even Howard had agreed on. How Howard had a son [‘he’s hurt but he’s alive and he’s gonna be okay, Pegs, I promise.’ Funny, it sounded like Steve was convincing himself more than her], how Sargeant Barnes was alive, and the complicated history of Hydra behind it. He’d told her not to feel so guilty for it because no one knew but there was that itch, that self-guilt that told her they’d been so close to rescuing him. She just knew it, but they snuck out right under their noses.

There was a whole crowd of people waiting for her as they stepped through the portal, Steve holding the bag of essentials she’s packed. An outfit or two despite his insistence that they had clothes, a few files, photos, and even books. And of course...Steve’s photo that she kept close to her heart. She dressed comfortably, in her leather jacket from the war, slacks, and a blouse. The last she expected was a sharp whistle to cut through the crowd and to see a man with an eyepatch standing in the back.

Steve’s sigh told him all.

“Director,” he said harshly, almost standing between him and Peggy, as if to put himself in harm’s way. “This doesn’t concern you.”

“Oh no, taking people from the past and bringing them to our future doesn’t concern me,” Fury huffed, sounding annoyed and almost amused. “Tell me why in the hell did you bring Carter here.”

“Tell me why in the hell are you speaking about me as if I’m not here?” Peggy snapped, stepping around Steve and folding her arms across her chest with an unamused look. She swore the man’s lip twitched. “I can speak for myself and don’t need Steve to speak for me. I think it’s very clear why I’m here and beyond the obvious to help recreate an organization that you have very well allowed being destroyed by your greed and a blind eye.”

There was a smirk on Steve’s lips as Fury rolled his eyes and muttered something about having ‘other plans’ and ‘not officially director anymore’ that reminded her of the scrawny boy from Brooklyn. That he was proud of her. Oh, that did the heart wonders.

“Spunky as always, huh, Auntie?”

The voice made Peggy turn to find the owner. She felt like she was staring right at Howard Stark, except with more salt in his beard and more burn scars and a missing arm. This had to be Tony Stark. Steve’s friend, Howard’s son.

“Auntie?” She questioned, raising a brow to his amused look. “I think you’re older than me.”

Tony shrugged, still amused. “Maybe.” She scoffed as if not to say maybe. “Okay, I am but you practically raised me at points in my life. Not you, another you...the here...you. Steve, why did you have to make this difficult?”

“I did not,” Steve countered, wrapping his arm around Peggy to squeeze her close. “You’re making it awkward.”

Rolling her eyes and muttering boys, Peggy enveloped Tony in a familiar hug, mindful of the burns.

“Auntie or not,” she sighed, patting his cheek. “I think I can still wring your ear when you need to be reminded of your manners.”

An almost familiar redhead was watching her from behind Tony. There was a sense Peggy got from her that she’s seen her before. Or perhaps another version of her. Younger, with hair and outfits that changed colors, and words that taunted her and wrung in her head. With mysteries that they still never solved.

“Black Widow,” she breathed, much to Natasha’s amusement. “I’ve fought one of you before.”

“Dottie, if I remember correctly,” Natasha sighed, giving a small nod. “My trainers never quite let that go. You were always a pest on their side, even to the day you rescued me. Or well, you and Barton.”

Barton, she pointed out made her look over her shoulder to see a tall blonde with purple hearing aids and a boyish smile on his face. His hands wrapped around a leash, a golden lab at the end of it. Beside him stood a familiar sight. A very familiar site that took her breath away.

James Buchanan Barnes. Broader than she remembered the slender soldier, with long hair that was now tied back into a bun, and a shimmering arm of silver and gold. His stormy gray eyes betrayed the fear that echoed through him, one step more forceful than the next before he dropped to his knees at her feet.

Peggy was quicker and saw the fall coming from a mile away, dropping with him to catch him in time and envelope him in her arms. He held onto her tightly, she was his comfort, his solace, and he was begging her for forgiveness for sins she did not know but haunted him. She felt the stubble on his face brush over her neck as he buried his face into her, his shoulders shaking with every other sob.

“I have you,” she whispered, brushing his hair back, her face tucked into his neck to give him that peace. “I have you, little one. You’re okay.”

“You-you’re...younger…” He hiccuped, trying to force those old Barnes ways back through.

“Younger and yet wiser,” she teased. Looking up, she saw the crowd disperse with the promise of introduction at dinner. Far as she understood there was still a God she had yet to meet and these other...agents. The only people who stayed were Steve, Barton, Romanoff, and another man who stood beside them with bright eyes and a smirk that reminded her of Gabe Jones.

Pulling Bucky back after giving him a few minutes, she pressed their foreheads together, brushing the tears from his cheeks. Steve had crouched beside them, a comforting smile on his face. This close, Peggy could count Bucky’s full lashes if she so wished.

“Are you okay?” She whispered in French. Steve had gotten the basics of it when he was alive beforehand, but Bucky had been fluent.

The language made him blink, the Soldier was never taught French. It was a forgotten language. But Bucky, no he knew it. It made him smile.

“No,” he replied honestly. “Not really. You don’t understand because it hasn’t happened and I don’t think it will happen’ but I tried to kill you.” He took in a shuddering breath, avoiding looking at Steve. He wasn’t sure if Steve even knew this. “Hydra s-sent me to kill you, it was my first solo mission. No handler, no contact. In and out. I failed. You knocked some sense into me, literally, with a-a lamp post. It was...in some hotel I remember. We sat and talked. You tried to help me but I-I couldn’t let you get close. I told you of some names in..in Hydra that might be in Shield and...can remember my handlers torturing me when...when they died by your hand.”

“Damn right,” she grumbled. “Not about you...being tortured. Look at me.” She cupped both his cheeks and pressed a tender kiss between his eyes. “You are safe now, okay? You’re here and I’m not upset at you. Or going to hurt you. If...if you seeing me…”

“Stop being the selfless one for once,” Bucky snorted. “Jesus, no wonder you and Steve are perfect. You’d both take a bullet for one another.”

“Technically a grenade,” Peggy mused, making Bucky look up in alarm at the blonde.

“Steve.”

“It was...years ago, Buck, c’mon.” Steve shot Peggy a look, standing them both up and looking away as Bucky cleaned his face up.

“Did you jump on a grenade?!”

“It was a dummy!”

Peggy laughed at their bickering, hugging Bucky tightly to her and kissing his cheek. She’d missed him, no matter how much she wanted to deny it. She did miss him.

“I’m not going to avoid you, Pegs. Some days are gonna be harder than others, but I’m gonna be fine. I can’t avoid you.” He tilted her head up with the metal hand, giving her that trademark smile that reminded her of her older brother so much. “You’ll find ways to wiggle into my life later, but I...think you met my partners.”

Yes, partners, Peggy hadn’t misheard. She was reintroduced to Natasha, Clint, and now Sam. Sam, who was the great-nephew of Gabe Jones.

“I take it you kept these two in line?” Peggy teased, hugging Sam tightly who just melted into her.

“Hell no!” He laughed. “These two are hell-bent on getting themselves killed. I think they learned that from you.”

“Guilty as charged,” Peggy mused.

It was a full month later before Peggy was introduced to those fellow agents she was promised to meet.

There was Mack, now the official Director of Shield, and who was very humble to meet her and as only she could describe was a giant teddy bear. He even made Steve look small.

May and Coulson, two lovebirds who were dangerous in their own way and yet we’re still in love. May just looked amused as Coulson gushed about ‘being a fan’ and Steve just looked embarrassed for her. Then it was chaos after the ‘Avengers’ saw Coulson in their living room. The chaos of yelling about how he was alive and not told for so long. That was an argument that May and Peggy quickly escorted themselves out to have a friendly chat.

Three new people arrived a day later in a small, private jet. The first soul out of it was a small blonde, little girl who came to Peggy’s hip and had all the energy as a toddler should. She laughed when Peggy caught her so she didn’t run off towards the lake, spinning her around. The laugh made her smile. And even Steve who snuck up beside her.

“Alya!” Jemma sighed, running up to Peggy before skitting to a stop over the turf when she realized who spun her daughter around in a circle. “You’re...you’re…”

“I’m told you’re a fan,” Peggy laughed, holding her hand out and shaking hers and then her husband who looked amused. “Jemma and Fitz, correct? And this is?” She held her arm up where she now hung upside down on her arm.

“That’s our littl’ monkey,” Fitz laughed, scooping his daughter up and putting her on his shoulders. “Coulson called us about...this and we didn’t want to believe.”

“You didn’t want to believe,” Jemma countered, shaking her curls. “I believed him. Why would he lie, Fitz?”

“It wasn’t lying I was worried about! Normally people pulled from the past isn’t good! Look at Sousa!’

Time stood still and Peggy felt like her heart had stopped. She was fully aware people were staring at her. Steve had stood behind her, touching her cheek.

“Pegs?” He whispered, clearly worried. “Peggy, are you okay? Hey, hey. Whoa.”

He lowered her to the ground when her knees gave out, supporting her body. Jemma knelt beside her, sending Fitz inside with their daughter so Peggy wasn’t crowded. Even May had come out of the lake house to check in on them.

Peggy blinked a series of times, clearing her throat. She could feel Steve’s hand on her neck, checking her pulse. She felt like she couldn’t speak, her mind was stalled out. She forgot every word she knew. Everything had been replaced by his voice, his face.

While she didn’t harbor feelings for Sousa, while their kiss had been rash, and she decided not what she wanted, they parted on good terms. Really good terms. His death, his violent, needless death of a body floating in a hotel pool had made her choke on her coffee when the news was told to her in passing as if it was a normal thing.

“Sousa is alive?” She finally whispered, feeling her hands starting to shake even as Steve’s own closed around them. “He’s alive?”

Jemma and Steve shared a look above her, one Peggy missed. “Yes,” May replied over both of them, shifting so she was in Peggy’s vision. “Yes, he’s alive. And he’s doing wonderful. They’ll be here in a few hours.” She paused as if to consider her words. “He’ll be happy to see you.”

“Can you handle your jealousy?”

Steve looked up from the bed, where he was trying to rethread his boots with difficulty. He paused as the boot fell to the floor, the lace slipping out of it with a heavy sigh.

“Why am I jealous? No, how am I jealous? If I remember correctly, you shot at me for kissing…”

“No, I was shooting the shield.” Peggy reasoned, fixing her last curl into place before turning to face Steve from the mirror. “And you were kissing her!”

“No, she was kissing me. She kissed me and I couldn’t back away! I’ve told you, I didn’t want her, I wanted you.”

Damn Rogers and damn him for saying the right words. Peggy’s shoulders slowly relaxed and her eyes softened as she took the boot from his hand and wrapped him in a tight hug. “I know,” she sighed. “I see you kept the marks on your shield, after all this time.”

“Well, I had to have some keepsake to remind me not to fuck up again.”

They laughed, Steve slowly kissing Peggy as he savored every moment. He only jerked when there was a knock on the door, looking embarrassed as the door opened to a new face.

“Oh!” Daisy, breathed, her won cheeks tinging pink. “I can go if you two are busy. May just sent me to find you...two…” Her eyes fell onto Steve, then Peggy and a small smile grew on her lips as if confirming something to herself.

Peggy stood up, taking Steve’s boot in hand and lacing it in three easy strokes before handing it back to him. “I take it you must be Daisy, right?” Her hand held out to him and she smiled as they shook hands.

“And you’re Agent Carter. Jemma has told me everything about you.” She paused, her tongue between her lips. “And Daniel.”

“It’s okay, I’m not...jealous or anything like that.” She wanted to make that clear, even if Steve snorted from the bed. “You have anything to say, Captain?”

“Just to keep your gun away from a man who doesn’t have a shield,” Steve teased, pecking her temple. He nodded politely at Daisy. “Coulson has told me much about you and the rest of the team. He thinks highly of all of you.”

“Yeah, well for a robot...he has a lot of feelings,” Daisy laughed with a shrug of her shoulders. “Is your team still done yelling at him?”

“Friends, not team. And sorta? Thor already knew because of Sif. Tony was quick to forgive him. Bruce said he knew already from working with Fury on some side project. As for Agent Barton and Romanoff… well, they hold onto grudges for a long, long time.”

Daisy chuckled as they left, hands in her pockets as they walked down the hall. She didn’t miss how Peggy had taken Steve’s hand. “We know. Agent Romanoff has gotten May back for a few things during our time together. Try explaining to Director Fury at the time why five chickens were in her office once. It took us ages to get them out. I think Fitz still has nightmares about those chickens.”

“They’re dreadful beasts!” Fitz shouted from the kitchen. “Let’s not talk about the Chicken Incident, please.”

“They are not,” Jemma insisted, smiling at Peggy. “Are you feeling any better?”

“Wonderful, thank you. I’m glad someone knows how to make a proper cuppa. The bath and nap did help.”

Steve pouted when Peggy’s eyes shot over to him. “Hey, I tried to learn during the war. Unlike Pinky who just put straight up a leaf in hot water one time.”

“Steven, if that’s what you call tea, then I don’t want to know what you call coffee. You just don’t have that touch.” Peggy’s hand patted at his cheek, making Steve flush.

“Don’t worry,” a voice behind them said. “I tried through all my years with her and still didn’t learn right. Even Mr. Jarvis tried to teach me. I have too heavy of an American hand, whatever that means.”

Leaning onto his cane behind them stood Daniel Sousa with his still boyish, but more handsome face and a proud look in his eyes that hadn’t been there before. Peggy’s breath was in her throat as she saw him, her hand gripping Steve’s tightly. Everyone around them, save for Daisy and Steve suddenly found they needed to be elsewhere to give these people privacy.

“Hey, Pegs,” Daniel breathed, giving a warm smile. “Whoa, whoa hold on.”

He nearly fell if it wasn’t for Steve when Peggy darted to him and hugged him tightly. He had to admit, some part of him felt almost a little jealous until he saw Peggy’s shoulders shake. She had taken his death hard, she’d told him. The fact there was not even a body to bury had made it much worst and he wondered how much of that funeral reminded her of his own.

“She took it hard,” Steve whispered to Daisy, giving a sympathetic look to the pair whispering to one another. “Even if they were friends after...everything, she didn’t learn about his death until weeks after. Hydra was trying to cover it up. She blamed herself.”

“She’s really hard on herself, huh?” Daisy sighed, shaking her head. “Daniel has told me everything about them. Is this...weird for you?” At Steve’s confused look, Daisy shrugged. “Your...girlfriend with her ex? Is that weird?”

“Never really had anything to compare it to, so I supposed not. Daniel is an important part of her life,” he mused. “I just have to accept that, as she has to accept my friends are important to me. She knows about Bucky and I…”

That was the last thing Daisy had expected to hear, her eyes widening. “You and the Winter Soldier were…?”

“Bucky but yes, teenagers, during the war, Peggy was involved in it. And even after.”

“I think Coulson owes me fifty bucks,” she muttered.

“Mention it to Clint and you’ll get a hundred.”

“Captain…?”

Steve looked up from where he sat on the bench by the lake, watching Alya, Peggy, and Fitz look for ‘specimens’ in the shallow end of the lake. On the other side, Bucky and Lucky were going for a jog or more as Lucky was dragging Bucky through the marsh. In front of him stood Daniel, still with that boyish smile and leaning on his cane.

“Steve,” he corrected, scooting over and patting the seat. “Sit down. I know that thing has to hurt like hell. Don’t lie, I had to have a brace as a kid for my back. Felt like torture.”

“The whole straightening rod and all? Poor you. I see it’s done nothing for your posture,” he teased, groaning when he finally sat down. “It’s gotten better. I’m looking into better prosthetics, giving this up...feels sorta odd. Is that how the serum felt to you?”

“In a way,” Steve responded after a moment to think about it. “But in another, I didn’t know what the hell to expect. None of us did. I went in an asthmatic boy and came out...able to breathe and see color for the first time.”

“Was it Peggy?”

Steve looked over at him, raising a brow and Daniel shrugged. “When you saw color for the first time, was Peggy your first sight?”

The Captain sighed and laid his head back, rubbing a hand over his face. “Yeah. Red. First time I saw it, you know? I knew the color existed, been told it does, but seeing it...seeing her eyes...her hair… But that red, it stuck to me. Took my breath away. She was...beautiful. Still is.”

Even if she was covered in mud now by Alya giving up the hunt and having a mud-fight.

“I hope you don’t find it odd that I’m here, that Peggy and I talked,” Daniel replied after a few minutes of comfortable silence. “Peggy… Marge…”

“Look,” Steve put a hand on his knee and gave a gentle squeeze. “You and Peggy have a history, that’s okay. I don’t care. She’s important to you and you’re important to her. I’m not jealous. She took your death hard given everything at the time. You were there for her in times I couldn’t be and I’m thankful that you were a crutch for her to lean on. So, stop this...awkwardness...Pegs is important to both of us in separate manners. She’s gonna be here for a long, long time and I hope you stick around too. I like to think we’ll be friends even.”

He could even hear Bucky, in the back of his head, telling him what a kid he sounds like.

“I’d like that,” Daniel sighed, squeezing Steve’s hand gently. “She never stopped, you know? She never stopped hoping to find you. A part of her always kept looking. Always hoping, even if it was a body to bury. She’s always loved you.”

“I’m thankful for that because Gods know I fucked up a lot.” He gave a strained laugh, shaking his head. “She loves you too. In her own manner. It’s why your death hit her so hard.”

“Yeah, well, now we have all the time to make up for it.” Daniel stood up, holding his hand out to help Steve up with a small smirk. “Sure wish Thompson was alive right now. He’d so owe me ten bucks for even being friends with Captain America.”

“Don’t remind me,” Steve groaned, rubbing at his brow, hearing a heavy splash. He laughed at the sight of Lucky dragging Bucky through the mud before the man had the sense to let go and let the dog run off back towards the house. “That’s a face I wouldn’t mind punching, much shit as he gave Pegs.”

“Then I hope you don’t mind I’ve done it a time or two and blamed it on the alcohol,” Daniel laughed. “You want a few beers? I think they’re gonna be busy for a while.”

“Sure. What’re a few beers between friends?”

#Steggy #StevePeggy #Steggy Prompt #Nonny Prompt #PeggySousa Mentioned #Peggy & Sousa #Peggy & Avengers #Peggy & Bucky #[that relationship is special to me]#Peggy & Jemma #Peggy & May #FitzSimmons #Alya FitzSimmons #Ayla Fitz #Coulson gets yelled at #The SASS #Anyway sorry this isn't what you wanted #Daniel & Steve broship

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sope-and-shine · 5 years ago

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Christmas Special: Day 21

-> Pairing: Dog Hybrid!Jeongguk x Cat Hybrid!Reader // Yoongi x Named OC(Ara) -> Hybrid!AU // Fluff and sadness -> Word Count: 3.3k -> Summary: Being the last hybrid in the shelter for Christmas isn’t what you want, but maybe Santa will have a better plan for you. -> Warning(s): Abandonment // cute little boy

A/N: I kinda wanna make this a series, so let me know what y’all think.

Family has always been your number one priority. It’d been instilled in you since you were a kitten, and you’ve always taken pride in taking care of your loved ones when you could. Growing up with two younger brothers made that easy - Jimin and Taehyung always did manage to get themselves in trouble - and with you being 8 years older than them, it made taking care of them a lot easier. The three of you were separated from your mother after a bad storm when you were only 11 and your brothers were 3. You’d been scared and worried about hybrid control finding you before you could make it to your mother, and you were sure that you would be separated for good. But Mrs. Kim - the nice, old lady that you live with now - took you in and promised to keep you safe. She found you outside of her little tea shop carrying both of your brothers soaked to the bone, and she had no problem bringing you in to the warmth of her own home.

To give you and your brothers a new one.

During the day you helped Mrs. Kim with her everyday chores and running the shop, keeping an eye on your brothers playing with toys in the corner near the window at the front of the shop. You taught your brothers everything that your mother taught you, and you taught yourself as much as you could when everyone was asleep. Day after day you would do your best to be just like your mother, so that your brothers had someone to look up to. Being with Mrs. Kim gave you that opportunity to take care of them and give them a better chance in this world for what the 3 of you were, and if they were lucky then they’d find a home or a job with someone who would appreciate the work that you put into raising them. You spent 6 years raising them with Mrs. Kim at your side to take care of you, until the day she fell.

And then she was gone.

It wasn’t that she didn't make the fall, but she had to be placed in the care of someone who could do a better job than you could. She had to leave you, and that meant you’d be given to someone new. It meant that your brothers would be given to someone new, and there was no guarantee that this new owner would be kind, or that they would even take both of them. There was a chance that no one would take either one of them, and that scared you the most! Hybrid’s left in shelters for so long never stood a good chance, and there was always the possibility of being sold to a warehouse for constant, grueling labor with poor conditions. If your brother’s ended up in a position like that, you would actually keel over and die from heartbreak.

But someone seemed to be looking out for you.

After Mrs. Kim’s fall and she was moved to her new home where she could be watched 24/7 by trained nurses and hybrid’s, her son placed you and your brothers in the best care he could on behalf of his mother. Seokjin had two hybrids of his own at home on top of his three children, and you could understand why he couldn’t take your brother’s. Thankfully, he knew someone who ran a shelter unlike any other shelter in the city. A shelter that ensured the safety of their hybrids and didn’t allow anyone to leave with a hybrid without a full background check. Min Yoongi built his shelter from the ground up with his older brother when he turned 22 - as you learned when you first arrived with your brothers - and he’s kept it running by himself with the help of his volunteers and his wife Ara.

It’s a large building that’s set up like a cafe in the front with a children’s themed cafe for the younger hybrids next to the counter. A small hallway runs between the kids cafe and the counter, leading to the back of the building where small rooms are built for said hybrids. It’s like a small hotel, enough to keep them safe, warm, and sane throughout their stay until they were placed in a good home. Everyday when you first arrived, Yoongi would appear in the small room he’d set up for you and your brothers at the back of the large shelter to bring you breakfast. He was used to hybrids being uncertain when they first arrived, especially older hybrids that didn’t have good experiences from their youth to now.

“You don’t have to join us if you don’t want to, but my wife and I will be around all day, okay? Anything that you need, we can get it for you.” He said to you. Everyday he assured you that he and his wife would help you in anyway they could, and he kept true to his word. He fed the three of you, clothed you and your brothers, helped to teach you and your brothers, and he did his best to find the most trustworthy owners for you and your brothers.

Unfortunately, just as you thought, you and your brothers wouldn’t be able to stay together forever. Ara managed to find the perfect owner to take in your brothers, and after meeting with them in the cafe 8 times just to be sure...you didn’t have it in your heart to keep them from a better life. A man named Jung Hoseok, his heart shaped smile and the pure joy he showed when interacting with your brothers was the true deal sealer to give you the strength to let them go. The 3 of you had never cried that much since Mrs. Kim had her fall and you all had to leave her, and watching them get in the car with Hoseok and driving away was the hardest thing you ever had to do. You were sad to see them leave, but every part of you knew that you had to.

Even if you would be alone.

Now, with the holidays approaching and the hybrids around you being adopted for children and those in need of company, you find yourself to be the only hybrid left in the shelter. It wasn’t like you really expected anyone to adopt you before the holiday, but you had hope that maybe one person would take you in. You’d taken to sitting at the table next to the window of the cafe drawing whatever came to your mind: sometimes your brothers, sometimes Mrs. Kim, and even the stray picture of Ara and Yoongi spraying whipped cream at each other. When kids come in to visit, they’ll sit with you and pet your ears while you draw and color for them. Adults come in to talk with you once in a while or get opinions on things that they’re unsure of, but they always leave when they’re done.

At least you’re no stranger to their absence.

Thankfully, Yoongi and Ara are not willing to let you continue on that way. When it came time for the shelter to close for Christmas and the couple to return to their home, they surprised you in the best way possible.

“You want to me to what?” You ask, staring at the two before you in disbelief as you try to grasp what they just said to you.

“We want you to join us for Christmas.” Ara repeats, holding a coat for you to take out into the cold air. Yoongi holds a bag, presumably with your belongings for the few days you’ll be with them.

You shake your head in confusion, “Why?”

Ara’s face drops immediately, in more shock than she should be after the years she’s spent doing this. “Sweetheart...the fact that you even have to ask that-”

“-We’re not leaving you alone for the holiday.” Yoongi says.

“We have plenty of space for you to join us, and I refuse to leave you here when you can spend Christmas with our family.” Ara assures.

They both look at you with such fondness and hope, that it’d be impossible for you to try and deny them anymore. You shrug, “I guess it would be rude to refuse.”

That’s how you find yourself being led into the tall apartment building the two have made a home in, being taken to a floor almost completely at the top of the building - in the elevator which was a very scary experience for you - and stopping in front of a door with a wreath hanging off of it and a doormat with a cat telling neighbors to kindly ‘go away’ instead of knocking. You could smell their dog hybrid all the way out in the hallway, and it made you nervous to think he’d be aggressive with you entering his territory.

Ara places a gentle arm over your shoulder, making you feel nice and protected from your worries, “It’s okay, Sweetheart, Jeongguk is a good boy. He wouldn’t hurt a fly.”

“Yeah, the real threat you need to worry about is-” Yoongi is cut off by a loud crash as soon as the door opens.

“Kookie! Throw Jun-Jun higher!” A small voice yells.

The three of you walk further into the apartment and find a small boy being held high above the floor while a boy about your age with fluffy brown hair and black ears, sweats with a fluffy black and brown tail peeking out and a t-shirt stares at the broken glass below him with wide eyes. His ears are up, and it’s clear he knows everyone is home now.

“Kookie will throw Jun-Jun higher as soon as Kookie cleans the glass.” He says to he little boy and breaking away from his chance. He rests the boy on his hip with a sigh and turns to offer the three of you a sheepish smile, “Hey guys. How was work?”

Ara turns away with a sigh, almost unbothered by the event like it happened every time they come home, “I’ll get the dustpan.”

“Just bring him over here and we’ll take care of it, Gukkie.” Yoongi instructs. He turns to you and wraps an arm over your shoulder with a welcoming smile before turning back to Jeongguk, “Come and meet (Y/n). She’ll be staying with us for the holiday.”

“Nice to meet you.” He nods. You watch as Jeongguk’s eyes stare directly at Yoongi’s hand placement, watching part of his tail wrap around the little boy in his arms. Nervous yourself, you nod back to him.

“Kitty~” Thankfully, little Jun was more than happy to save the awkward tension. His arms fly out to reach for you, wriggling as much as he can in the dog hybrids tight hold. He was excited to have a new friend, and it looked like Jeongguk was also trying to hold himself back from really greeting you in fear of how you would react. But the little boy was wanting to waste no time, “Jun-Jun want pretty kitty!”

You blush, a small smile etching on your face. He reminded you of your brothers when they were younger, and you wanted nothing more than to experience that again. Hesitantly, dropping your ears and trying to not make eye contact with the more dominant hybrid, you reach your arms out in want, “May I please hold him?”

Ara and Yoongi watch hesitantly as they watch Jeongguk think for a moment before he slowly walks closer with Jun, nodding and letting the little boy leap into your arms. It’s almost unreal for the two to watch your eyes light up and a smile they hadn’t seen since your brothers had helped to make a cake for you for your birthday. You looked like it was Christmas day already as you bounce the toddler happily in your arms like he were your own, and that made the two adults happy to see you pleased as well.

“We already ordered dinner for tonight, so it should be arriving soon. Why don’t the two of you play with Minjun and get to know each other while we get some plates ready?” Yoongi suggest.

Ara nods in agreement, “You both like to draw, maybe you can start with that.”

“You draw?” Jeongguk asks, his ear perking up.

You look to the floor, avoiding his eye contact and shrug, “I draw the people I see out the window when I’m at the cafe. It gives me something else to think about.”

“I used to live at the shelter with my brother too. Ara and Yoongi talk about you alot, and I know how you feel when it comes to being separated from family.” He explains.

“I’m sorry.” You mutter, unsure of what else you should say.

“It’s okay, I got to come here and get a new brother!” He says with a big, goofy smile. He turns to Minjun in your lap and gets face level with the boy. “Isn’t that right, Minjunnie?”

“Big brother Kookie is the best brother for Jun-Jun!” Minjun agrees, falling off of your thigh to reach out and give Jeongguk a sloppy kiss to his cheek. The both of them together made your heart feel a little more full than it had since your brothers left for Gwangju with Hoseok, and you just felt yourself feeling more and more relaxed as you continued to play and chat with them. Even through dinner, you were able to enjoy their company, along with the familiar, calming presence of Yoongi and Ara. It felt like you found a family you could trust, but their was still the fact that you’d be returning to the shelter once the holiday was over.

And then you’d be alone again.

When it came time to go to bed so Santa could come and surprise Minjun with his gifts, you were offered the spare bedroom across from his room and next to Yoongi and Ara’s. Jeongguk was right next to Minjun across from the bathroom, so it made it easier if something were to happen and Minjun needed something in the night. Minjun was actually intent on sleeping with both you and Jeongguk, but Ara was quick to talk him down for your sake. Though, the both of you did sit with him in his room to help him fall asleep.

“And then, the two little kittens jumped through the window and saved the Princess from the monster!” You tell, bringing the story based on your two brothers to an end. You watch as Minjun’s eyes try to close against his will, fluttering shut every now and then as Jeongguk strokes his hair.

“They sound so cool…” He mutters, hands holding your tail very gently as he continues to fight the sleep.

You smile, joining Jeongguk in moving stray strands of hair from Minjun’s face as his drift close, “They are! They fear no monster, and are praised when they return to the King with tales of their adventure.”

Eyes still closed, Minjun sighs, “I want...to do that too.”

“You can, Minjunnie.” Jeongguk assures him, nuzzling his nose into the little boys hair. It isn’t long before his soft snores finally reach your ears.

“He’s so easy to put to sleep.” You whisper, continuing to stroke the boys hair as he sleeps.

Guk laughs, “Yeah, it’s how you know he’s Yoongi and Ara’s kid.”

“I remember my brothers at this age. I forgot how much I missed it…” You sigh, remembering the days where you would tell your brothers story of your mother and cuddling with them until they fell asleep. It was nice to have someone to coddle again, especially someone you didn’t have to coddle alone. “He’s so cute.”

Jeongguk lays head head on the pillow above Minjun, beginning to feel drowsy himself, “I bet your brothers really miss you too. You seem like you took good care of them.”

You smile, “I like to think I did.”

You lay down with your head just above Minjun’s but lower than Jeongguk’s when he asks, “What do you think they’re doing now?” It’s a question that you think about a lot when you’re at the cafe or getting ready for bed in your now empty room in the shelter. It was nice to know where they were, but it was still heartbreaking that they were so far away.

You sigh, “Well. I hope they’re being given the best life their owner can offer them. I know he’s a good guy, so I’m not worried about their treatment, but I really hope they’re happy together.”

“They are.” Jeongguk assures, seeing the longing in your eyes. He could tell how well you took care of them, and he knows just how good Yoongi and Ara are at finding homes for their hybrids. He had faith that your brothers were okay.

“How do you know?” You ask, head tilted and ear folded. Jeongguk can’t stop himself from smiling at how cute you look, reaching over the sleeping child between you and scratching your ears.

“I can feel it.” He assures you, making sure to be gentle as he continues his petting.

By the time morning comes, the both of you don’t even realize you fell asleep in Minjun’s bed beside him. It’s only when the little boy begins jumping up and down excitedly on top of the both of you that you even realize where you’d fallen asleep. Thankfully, with Minjun dragging you to the living room to look at presents instead of the fluffy haired canine hybrid, you have no time to feel embarrassed at sharing a bed with him.

As soon as Minjun finishes waking up his parents and they both begrudgingly leave the safety of their bed for their sons happiness, you all settle in by the tree filled with presents and begin to unwrap the treasures left for you. Gifts from husband to wife, gifts to a child disguised as a beloved holiday figure, and gifts to not one but two hybrids under the tree. It’s a happiness you didn’t think you’d get to experience again, and you’re more than happy to share it for one day with people that seemed to genuinely care about you.

“I have one more present.” Ara announces. She reaches around the side of the couch and pulls out an orange bag with purple and pink tissue paper sticking out. She places it right on top of Yoongi’s lap and pulls out her phone with a smile, “Open it.”

Yoongi is hesitant with Ara filming him, but complies anyways. He pulls at the flimsy paper until he pulls out a baby binky, staring at it like he was suddenly constipated until his face lights up in realization. He turns to her with a sudden gleam of happiness, “Are you serious?”

“That’s why I’ve felt the need to be more gentle around you.” You says, now realizing why you’ve felt so attached to her recently. She was pregnant, and you had subconsciously known this whole time.

Yoongi’s eyes are brimming with tears as he leans into his wife’s shoulder and pulls her close. He can’t express his emotions well enough in this moment of surprise, “Angel, I’m really happy…”

“So am I. Especially since we still want to add one more person to our little family besides baby #2.” She says, now turning to face you instead. Her smile doesn’t leave her face as she continues just staring at you with a look you can’t quite place.

“Why are you looking at me like that?” You ask. You don’t get it until you take one glance at Jeongguk and he nods to you, “Wait...you mean me?”

“Yeah, we mean you.” Yoongi assures, sitting up and wiping the tears from his eyes with his arm still firmly wrapped around his wife.

“Kitty stay!” Minjun cheers, clapping happily.

“So what do you say?” Ara asks.

Jeongguk places a hand on you shoulder and teasingly asks, “Kitty stay?” As if Minjun were the one asking you to stay with them. Even so, you can’t help the smile that spreads across your cheeks or the tears that fill your eyes.

You nod, “Kitty stay.”

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