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whosjunglejim4322 · 4 years ago

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Cobra Hybrid! Yukhei/ fighter AU

Warnings: pussy eating, breeding kink, competitive fighting, bl**d, mentions of open wounds, eagle hybrid Xiaojun, scorpion hybrid Hendery, minor mentions of getting high, angst, mentions of near death experiences, fluff bc Xuxi loves u an unhealthy amount

The sky outside of your bedrooms hopper window is scattered with rich hues of deep violet and burgundy, a sight that is too captivating to not sit and admire for at least a moment while your food cools off on your beside table.

You've always been particular about the temperature, needing it hot enough to burn your palms but not the surface of your tongue.

You smile warmly to yourself as you think of Yukhei, the way he can practically scarf anything down no matter the heat. You've had to physically stop him from inhaling piping hot ramen quite a few times, though he never listens. "Its okay, promise!I like when it's hot!"

Stubborn boy.

The colors above seem to dissipate by the second into shades that better suit the nighttime hour, not even a quarter of the sun peeking from below the horizon as the city below continues to buzz with work commutes, or perhaps lovers that are eager to be in the same space their partners occupy.

You sigh ruefully, knowing that it's just your suboncious missing a certain doe eyed, raven haired boy.

It hasn't even been two days since you last saw eachother, the navy blue sweatshirt that he wore over still hanging off the corner of your dresser, the scent of patchouli and cedarwood clinging to the fabric.

Your fingers reach out to undo the latch that keeps your window closed, the cool, dusk air gentle against your cheeks.

You know you shouldn't worry about him, he's with Hendery and Xiaojun and the others and they're all celebrating YangYang's birthday in his uncles house near Shenzhen.

At least that's what his last message said, and truly, you're not one to be overly nosey or obsessive. But the thought of Yukhei, your Yukhei, back in that poisonous red ring with barbarous eyes latched onto his body, eager for his blood to spill across the white floor-

You feel your throat tighten at the thought, eyes closing as you inhale through your nose, the air not as thick with smog this time of year and allowing for at least somewhat of a peace of mind.

You find the juxtaposition to the outside world, and the world that lies below the boutiques and indie music shops and niche cafes, to be sardonically humorous.

It makes sense, strangely, that the evil and greed that people possess would no doubt be thrumming with a life of its own in the hybrid world, even more so than that of the human world, sometimes.

And for hybrids like Yukhei, the ones with a little more strength, a little more aggression once the animal that coexists with their dna is provoked, for a king cobra; merchants practically frothed at the mouth when your boyfriend put himself up for rivalry.

It was the last thing he ever wanted to do, and not just because the clubs usually smelled of dry blood and spit among other noxious substances, or because of the fact that his body felt as if it had been hit by a train every morning when he awoke.

It's because of how you sobbed when you found out. Your eyes and nose raw with the fury in which you had rubbed them, your body shaking. It hurt more than anything, more than a fierce kick to the jaw or a pair of canines ripping into the flesh of his shoulder.

It was agoninzing, almost more so than the fact that he had to do it in order to pay off some stupid, futile debt that he owed.

It was a nefarious fox hybrid who helped him out of an almost brawl at a club downtown during the time he worked there, fixing drinks sometimes, or lending a hand in securing the canvas and apron that was needed for the fighting ring.

It was easy work for him, and he needed the money if he wanted to get through school by even a little, but the people who occupy spaces like that, they weren't too keen on a snake hybrid being allowed in during daytime hours; helping or not.

It was just a bigheaded bull, a new bartender who caught a glimpse of the few iridescent scales that gleamed acrosss the expanse of his shoulder blade, and before he could even smell the unprompted vexation wafting off of the hulking man- he was thrown across the room.

He was nearly impaled on the bar top, nearly. Though the fox jumped in almost too eagerly after the bull busted your boyfriend's top lip open, introducing himself as the owner and kicking the aggressor off of Yukhei after professing his status.

As far as the story goes, the owner was still quite upset at the fact that two bottles of expensive liquor had been busted and wasted in the whole debacle, news to Yukhei since he had been, well, fearing for the safety of his face due to the close proximity of six inch horns.

So, it was lose a decent job and have no other options left as such a reclusive breed, or use his strengths to his advantage.

You shudder everytime you think of the ladder. Nothing prepared you for hearing that from Xiaojun's mouth, for seeing him look so weak, so close to the brink of deterioration. He looked broken.

Your noodles are cold now, and you curse yourself for allowing your thoughts to wander off to a place so unnecessary to revisit.

You're too tired to heat them back up, moving from your window sill to your quaint, welcoming bed. You peel the thick comforter back and nestle yourself into the warmth, grabbing your old (but still functioning) laptop in hopes of finding something new to watch on netflix. You have too much of a habitual personality to start a new t.v. show, but a movie might suffice.

It's hard to focus your attention elsewhere, to not to think of him. He's the type of person that you can't ever get used to seeing upclose, so effortlessly beautiful it's almost painful, an ache in the pit of your chest.

Maybe that's silly to say, but it's not jusy because you're sickeningly in love with him. It's this force that he carries with him, like he's made of pure, raw sunlight.

You close your eyes for a moment, picturing the way his plush lips feel against yours when he smiles into a kiss, noses touching and giggles resonating in his throat as you play with the wild strands of his perpetually fluffy hair.

You think of all the things that make him inherently him. His hands, the way they always seem to be steady and gentle, elegant, despite their size. Even when he caresses your cheek with the back of his knuckles, it's featherlight.

It's in his nature to be so agile, so stealthy in his movements. You sometimes forget he's a snake hybrid at all, his outside appearance similar to a lion shifter, or a wolf.

It's probably the most unobvious thing about him, unless he were to take his clothes off and reveal the miscellaneous littering of scales across his broad back and shoulders.

They're similar to his eyes in the way that they're usually onyx until they glimmer under light, ranging from shades of dazzling silver to veridian. You think of the way he hums in satisfaction everytime you run your fingertips along the surface, eyes captivated with wonder.

You jolt in surprise as your phone rings obnoxiously loud, your eyebrows furrowed in annoyance at the prospect of your pleasant thoughts being so rudely interrupted. Your indignation vanishes when you see the caller ID.

Hendery 🦂 is calling...

"Hello?" Your voice is neutral for the most part, the rational side of your mind trying not to panick so suddenly.

That doesn't last long once you hear the troubled pang in the hybrids voice, the hairs on the back of your neck standing straight up.

"Hey, uh- I'm sorry, I'm so fucking sorry to have to- look Yukhei is hurt-" You're sure all the blood in your body has suddenly been drained, stomach twisting as the words fly from Hendery's mouth. "We can't go to the hospital, Yangyang isn't with us and-"

This can't be happening. Not again. Who lied? Did they all lie?

"Is it the same club?" The stillness in your voice is unsettling, though you're pretty sure you might be going into shock at this point. You can't feel your limbs properly.

"Yes." He replies bleakly, and your fingers tremble as they end the call.

It's like you knew, you always know. There's something about being with Yukhei that has given you a sort of second sense, it's like knowing when a step is missing and you're about to trip.

You know you're going well over the speed limit, skin pulled fiercly over your knuckles with the force in which you're gripping the steering wheel. You're only aware you're crying when streaks of warmth cascade down your cheeks and soak into Yukhei's sweatshirt that you threw on before leaving.

You never wanted to be back here, navigating the slim dark streets to find that familiar, seemingly abandoned building with a simple red logo spray painted on the side. It can only be understood by hybrids, humans not able to translate.

The building is tucked so far back behind the city, it makes for an incredibly unpleasant journey, along with an already unpleasant destination. It's a dark corner in a place full of light. It's the door to a shadow world, to the creatures that find comfort in malice and anguish.

You're surprised you've arrived so fast, not even aware of the strange, curious glances you've been getting by passerbys. No doubt wondering what a little human girl is doing in one of the most dangerous, underground parts of the city.

But they can't touch you, not legally anyways. It's forbidden for hybrids to harm humans, and none of them would dare risk exposing their little side show for a taste of a mundane.

It's Xiaojun you spot first, his conspicuous head of nearly white hair sticking out like a sore thumb amongst the darkness of the alleyway. It's only as you approach that you can see he's slumped under the weight of Yukhei, who's figure is akin to a wilting flower.

You feel your stomach lurch, though adrenaline is what drives you to throw yourself out of the car like a madman, leaving the door open and all to run to his side. You share a brief glance with a wide eyed Hendery, gesturing towards the car as your knees scrape fiercly against the pavement.

You almost don't want to look at him completely, gaze set on Xiaojun as you round to the other side and slip yourself underneath Yukhei's heavy arm. You can't, however, ignore the blood that sticks to your skin, nor the scent of it clinging to him. He murmurs your name with a strained cry, your knees wobbling.

It's a complete blur, happening in what you guess is only about two to three minutes. Yukhei slurs his words as you and the blonde haired hybrid hoist him up with all your strength, agonized groans bellowing from his throat while you move him to the back seat.

You help to manuever his long legs into the car, every bruised, wounded, and bloody part of him visible now underneath the light above your heads. It's even worse than before. How can it be worse?

You throw yourself in beside him, Xiaojun slamming the door shut before he sprints to the passengers seat, Hendery hitting the throttle as soon as everyone is secure inside the vehicle.

You turn to your boyfriend, your love. You have to resist the urge to reach out and touch him, terrified to accidentally skim past a laceration. You whisper his name into the darkness, hoping that he'll answer and that he won't disappear before your very eyes.

Getting him inside of their apartment complex isn't easy. And not just because it takes two of you to carry him, his body too weak to do much of anything; it's mostly because carrying a half dead looking hybrid to an elevator isn't really the most optimal option.

Luckily Hendery knows how to pick the lock to the fire escape hatch in the back of the complex, allowing the four of you to somewhat subliminally carry him up two flights of stairs before finally arriving at apartment 236.

Not the essiest thing you've ever done. But none of that matters, nothing matters right now except for him.

"Couch!" Xiaojun yells, Hendery two steps ahead of him, pushing the old coffee table in the center of the livingroom to the far right corner.

Yukhei stammers before you both set him onto the piece of furniture as gently as you can, a choked whimper being the only sound he can make. It's even worse in this light, all the shared meals and nights binge watching movies suddenly lightyears away. Now this room is tainted with the sight of him falling apart.

"What do we do? Oh god, what do we do?" You speak through a broken sob, on your knees next to your boyfriends limp figure, his long limbs hanging off the side of the couch while his head struggles to stay upright.

You don't even realize Hendery has ran off until he is jogging back with a first aid kit that probably won't do any good, not in this situation. He reads the uncertainty and disbelief in your expression, quickly rebuttling.

"Venom, we need his venom," He and Xiaojun share a look that you don't quite understand, but you're too overwhemled to question it right now. "We just need to clean him up first, as best as we can."

He hands you a warm, damp washcloth and you are quick to bring it to Yukhei's face, the only place that isn't too damaged to touch and somewhat tamper with. His swollen eyes struggle to stay open, but once your hand caresses his sweltering cheek, he uses all of the strength he has to mutter your name.

"I'm so- sorry, you don't...you don't under..understand."

You place a gentle finger to his busted lips, pulling back immediately as his eyebrows furrow and he winces, not yet aware of the two others pouring some sort of unfamiliar disinfectant onto the open wounds.

"Shh, not right now. We gotta get you fixed up, okay? It's gonna be alright."

The words are probably more comforting to yourself, though nothing is comfortable at a time like this. Everything is happening so fast, Hendery gently pushing you to the side and whispering something to Yukhei that is inaudible to your human ears.

He nods weakly, and you can't hide your horror nor contain the frightening gasp that escapes your throat when Xiaojun approaches and bares his claws, shoving them into your boyfriends side.

You're frozen in place, time stopping for a an infinite moment as you sit and watch what's unfolding. Hendery muffles Yukhei's agonized shout initially, removing his hand when he realizes that the cobras fangs have been ejected.

He holds a vile up to his mouth, puncturing the top open with the sharp edge of his tooth, allowing the sticky clear venom to drip down into the glass container. You've never seen Yukhei's fangs before, mostly because snake hybrids and cobras alike aren't one to use them unless absolutely necessary.

Life or death.

It happens quick, Xiaojun with a needle inbetween his deft fingers, likely from the inconspicuous looking first aid kit, pulling the venom through the syringe before handing it to Hendery to inject into your boyfriends carotid artery.

His body stiffens as if he's gone into shock, veins protruding from his skin and pulsing like his heart beat has gone past the safe amount of BPM.

And then, he's still, so still it feels like you're getting a glimpse of what it's like to lose him, and you still can't find the strength of the willpower to move.

"He'll be okay, I promise,"

Hendery is by your side in an instant, panting as perspiration drips from his forehead. "He just needs to rest, he's the only type of hybrid who can use his own venom as a healing agent."

It feels like you've stepped into a different dimension, like somehow now is the time that your brain finally begins to over process the fact that none of these boys are human and that monsters really do exist.

They're not the monsters. You're not bothered by their otherworldy state of being in the slightest, but there's something in the way that they speak that makes it seem as though you're missing a vital detail, like a page ripped straight from the spine of a book. A page that could very well determine the entire stories fate.

"Where's Yangyang? And the birthday?" Your voice is barely above a whisper, incredulity in your tone.

He and the blonde haired eagle look guilty beyond belief, hesitancy in their eyes. The anger that boils inside of you, starting from your toes and rising to your ears, pushes you to stand to your feet and move past them to where Yukhei lies.

Theur admittance to whatever the fuck is going on, can come later. You don't trust yourself right now anyways, too angry, too overcome with grief to yell or shout or throw things in the way you wish to.

You sit by his side, and reach out to brush his tousled hair out from in front of his scraped forehead, examining the violet and burgundy hues that blooms from underneath his honey colored skin.

"I love you, I'll always be here."

You whisper, lying your head against the cushion next to his, exhaustion suddenly clouding your brain and allowing you to forget, just for a second, that you almost lost him.

The sunlight burns red from behind your eyelids, last nights events not yet in the forefront of your brain until you hear the low timbre of voices from the other room, haunting images forcing you awake.

You sit up too fast, head pounding from the restless sleep you've endured. You realize you're in someones bed when you kick off a familiar pair of black sheets from your feet, the setting around you like a second home. Yukhei's room. Someone must have carried you here during the night.

You're quicker and more eager than you've ever been in the morning, feet carrying you towsrds the half open door as you practically sprint into the livingroom, expecting to see him lying there as immobile as he was last night; preparing yourself for the worst.

But you don't see anyone on the couch, in fact. It takes you a moment to register that everyone is in the kitchen, huddled around the island. You're too beside yourself to realize that the broad, tan back that's facing you belongs to him, until he turns around.

You don't get a good look at his face, already smashing yourself against his chest with a force that doesn't even budge him. You gasp suddenly, recoiling in fear as you step away, terrified that you've hurt him.

His long arms are still open expectantly, doe eyes glossy as he stares back at you in confusion, your expression as shocked as it is dubious. He's healed. Well, not completely. Your fingers trace over the scabs that have formed where gashes and lacerations once were just hours before.

He pulls you to him again by your elbows, and you look up at him through wet lashes to see that the bruises are no longer a severe shade of purple and blue, only slightly yellow.

It doesn't take many more glances before you're forcing yourself up onto your tippytoes, grasping his cheeks in your palms and pressing your mouth against his.

His arms enclasp you fiercly, nearly making it hard to breathe but you don't care, not at all. Not when he's whole and alive and smells like himself again, not when he's kissing you like it's been years since you've last seen eachother.

When you part you realize that Yangyang and Kun are here, and the confusion that you harbored last night for their actions and secret glances, has you reluctantly pulling away from the embrace of your lover.

You see it now, the fear and worry that colors his expression. All of their expressions. Your eyes are suddenly fierce, fists clenching by your sides as your nails form crescents into the flesh of your palms.

"Someone better tell me what the everliving fuck is going on and why this happened again," You've never been so furious, have never lashed out as anyone as angrily as you are right now.

"A birthday party? Really? That's the excuse you came up with?!" Yukhei hangs his head in shame, knowing that it's in all of their best interest to let you finish. It's only fair.

"And you all knew, every single one of you let him walk into that ring again, every single one of you were okay with letting him die!" Your voice rises an octave, fresh tears now springing from your tired eyes.

"And I know there's something more, you're all shit liars. I just don't know what's going on and I dont know why, I just need to know why?" You sound defeated this time, covering your face in your hands as the cobra cradles your head against his chest.

You're too weak to pull away, too run dry to sob any longer.

Kun is the first to speak.

"His venom, it's-" You can only guess that someone glares at him, Hendery murmuring to his elder to let Yukhei tell you himself.

You finally glance up, meeting the teary eyed gaze of the man you love, who looks as terrified as he does stricken with unidentifiable emotions. He's silent as he deliberates with himself mentally, looking over his shoulder and nodding to the group in a silent understanding, before gently guiding you towards his room.

Venom, money, high.

These words echo in your brain as you sit across from Yukhei on his bed, his eyes too scared to meet yours as he finally finishes his explanation.

It's the whole hearted truth, as painful as it is to admit to the one person in this world who he so desperately wants to protect. But it had to be done, for your sake and for his.

"So the drinks you were making, they were filled with your venom...and people drank it willingly?"

You're still struggling to understand, no anger or shame laced in your voice as he expected, though it still doesn't lighten the indescribable weight that sits on his chest. He swallows.

"It's like...it's like a high for some people, or like being drunk but to an extreme, euphoric level," He anxiously picks at the skin beside his nail beds.

"The fox knew he could profit off of it, but it's still taboo. He was my employer and could easily pass me off as a crooked cobra hybrid who was sneaking my venom into drinks for secret cash. So he told me if I wanted to stop, for good, I had the chance to get my get out of jail free card during the upcoming fight,"

Your heart feels as if it might rip through your shirt, the pain and obvious regret in his voice tangible. It all makes since bow, though, in hindsight. Though you still don't understand why the others were so involved.

As if he read your mind, he continues.

"And Hendery, Xiaojun...they were just protecting me. They'd wait and make sure that I left the club everynight unharmed, and they knew the cost of confronting the fox. Hendery's venom as a scorpion is lethal, so he couldn't get involved for obvious reasons. They weren't happy or okay with any of it, I just didn't have a choice."

You suddenly feel like the guilty one now, chest heavy as the pieces of the gigantic, horrifying, and confusing puzzle finally come together.

It's alot to take it, more than you were prepared for. And your anger isn't directed at them anymore, in fact wvery ounce of fire that had been raging inside of you burns at the idea of that stupid fucking fox doing all of this for cash.

Sensing that he's still worried you're upset, you reach out to grab his fidgeting hands, his chin lifting only slightly as to peer at you through his dark lashes.

When you crawl over to him and on his lap, he looks dumbfounded. Even more so as you kiss him gently, softer than a rose petal as your thumb caresses the apple of his cheek.

"I'm so sorry you had to go through that, I'm so so sorry." Tears slip past your waterline before you can contain them and he kisses them away just as quickly, voice incredulous.

"Baby no, don't apologize, ever," He lifts your face to his, eyes wide and full of reverie. "I'm okay, I'm okay because you were there and I promise with my entire heart and soul to never get wrapped up in that shit ever again, ever."

You kiss him again, the taste of tears not bothering either of you. You just need to feel him, to remind yourself that he's not going anywhere. You can't shake the thought of how he looked last night.

"I almost lost you, Yukhei you...I thought I'd wake up and you'd be gone and I'd never get to kiss you again or hear your laugh," He's crying now, too, silently as he closes his eyes and you bury your face against his neck. His hands cradle you as if he has the entire world in his grasp.

"Shh I'm here, m'not going anywhere baby. I'll stay forever with you."

And he means it to his very core, feels it in his bones, solidifed as you kiss him again and again like he suplies the air in your lungs. You're both so in love with every fiber of your being, so enraptured in the feeling of one another.

When you push at his chest to silently ask him to lie down, he's quick to assert who's taking care of who, eagerly gripping your soft waist and letting your back fall against his mattress.

"My sweet angel," You arch into his touch as his plush mouth nibbles the soft skin underneath your jaw, traveling across the expanse of your throat and to the sides of your neck. "Let me make you feel good, been so patient with me."

It dawns om him that you're wearing his hoodie and he swears his heart throbs in his chest, quick fingers pulling the garment over your head and tossing it to the side with your shirt underneath, before continuing his descent.

He's shamless in the way he cups your breasts in his wide palms, gazing up at you through slitted eyes as his pink tongue flicks over one of the hardening buds. You reach out to touch any part of him you can, whining as he repeats the action on the opposite breast.

He wanders even further down, across every inch of your tummy, humming all the while in satisfaction at how sweet you smell between your legs, at how needily you whine for him.

He's all too excited now, pulling the shorts from your body with a force that should've ripped them in half, kissing your inner thighs sweetly but not as earnestly as he'd like. He's just too focused on the enticing sight of your glistening sex, mouth practically watering.

He doesn't wait for you to prepare yourself, digging in immediately. Your hands fly to his hair, fingers tangling themselves in the strands as his mouth encloses around your throbbing clit, suckling before he licks a broad stripe over your folds.

"Yu-yukhei...oh!" Your thighs threaten to close around his head but he holds them open with an inescapable grip, endulging himself wholeheartedly as he slurps and licks at every drop of juice that flows from you.

It's a maddening sort of pleasure, your toes curling and belly tightening. His nose is pressed against your pubic mound as he keeps his mouth over your center, wriggling his head back and forth as his tongue flicks over your clit at an inhuman pace.

"Ah, I can't- oh fuck." You're blabbering incoherently, though it only drives him further. He relishes in the way you're writhing underneath him, the way you're so wet just for him and him only.

"Want you to cum on my tongue, can you do that for me?"

All you can do is cry out in response, bucking your hips against his mouth as he prods at your entrance with the tip of his tongue. You're so close it's humiliating, but he's elated, already sensing your orgasm in the way your walls throb and pulse with every lick to your bud.

The sounds are so nasty, so lewd in the way your wetness combined with his saliva is so audible in the small room.

You cum without a warning, not being able to speak or do much of anything except jerk and twitch as he keeps his mouth on you, unrelenting in his determination to taste your release.

You whimper.

"Fuck me, please Xuxi p-please."

You beg softly, with half lidded eyes and he reluctantly lifts himself from your center with dark yet gentle eyes, mouth saturated in your juices. He can't resist you.

He kisses you like this, and you don't complain one bit. Not when he's got his pants down faster than you can blink, gripping his thick shaft and rubbing the ruby hued tip of his cock against your sensitive clit.

"Want me to fill you up, huh? Want me to make you mine forever and ever."

You're unable to verbally respond when he pushes himself in, not even an ounce of friction due to a mixture of your cum and his spit coating your walls as well as the inside of your thighs. He buries himself to the hilt, your hands on his broad back.

His pace is determined but not frantic, body held up by his forearms so he can continue to kiss you while his dick spears into you. Your lips are one of his favorite parts about you, so soft, the perfect size to slot right against his.

"Yes Xuxi, want you to give me all your cum, pretty p-please."

He supresses a hiss, burying his face in the crook of your neck as you wrap your thighs around his middle, heels pressing into his lower back.

"Mm, gonna give you my babies," He doesn't miss the way your walls flutter around him, as he pulls himself almost all the way out before sheathing himself inside of you once more. "Want you to be leaking with my cum for a w-whole week."

You whimper, and it drives him mad. His hips are agile and precise as he fucks into you now, controlled and skilled. He knows exactly where your sweet spot is, exactly what has you clinging onto him for dear life.

"You're s-so big, missed your dick, missed you."

He's the one whining now, scattering wet kisses under your jaw, nibbling your earlobe. It's like no other sensation, being together like this. You can't tell where he ends and you begin, all you can do is feel.

"You like my big dick, hmm? Want me to stuff that pretty pussy full." His words are filthy, but his candence is sweet like honey, earnest in the way his voice trembles. He's just as high on pleasure as you are.

"Please, please, yes."

His thrusts become harsher in the way he fucks back into you, reaching past your cervix. Your fingers bury themselves into the dark strands of his hair as quiet whimpers bubble from your throat, senses overwhelmed with Yukhei Yukhei Yukhei.

It doesn't help that he's so vocal in your ear, the deep timber of his groans sending chills down your spine and causing your belly to fill with heat, spreading throughout your limbs like wildfire.

It's not just fucking, this feels like what making love really is. It's a reunion in more ways than one, a solidification of your bond. You wish it could last forever, the scent of his skin, the softness of it. You can feel every muscle in his body strained with the strength he uses to please you, to reach depths that have your toes curling.

When you turn your head to kiss the skin just below his ear, his hips falter.

"Oooooh, shit baby m'gonna cum, fuck."

You pull his face from your shoulder to smash his lips against yours, cradling his face as he cups the back of your neck. His tongue slips inside your mouth, and you purposely squeeze your walls around his length.

He mewls, cursing under his breath. "Cum for me, please Yukhei," He's looking right into your eyes, lips kiss bitten, skin flushed. "Make sure you give me every last drop."

He's done for, hair sticking to his forehead, a broken groan straining to leave his throat as he pushes himself as deep as possible, both of you watching each others expression in the process.

"I love you I love you I love you." He chants, while spurts of his cum paint your walls white. You unravel when you look down between your bodies for a fleeting moment, catching a glimpse of the amount he's released as he disappears inside of you over and over again.

He kisses your face as you struggle to grasp onto him, the pleasure too much to handle, physically and emotionally. It has tears springing from your eyes, nails digging into his biceps as he continues to fuck you through it.

"I love you too, I love you so much." You finally reply, finding the strength to speak no matter how slurred and sleepy it might sound.

He smiles warmly with irrevocable adoration, eyes crinkling at the corners. He strokes your cheek with the soft pad of his thumb, leaning down to peck your nose, and then your forehead, and then your eyelids.

"You have my entire heart," He professes. "I'll always be here."

"Guess I saw that cumming."

Xiajun glares at Hendery.

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moonbeamsung · 4 years ago

Text

I Fell for You Like the Autumn Leaves

In which your neighbor, who might as well be a complete stranger to you, convinces you to revisit an old childhood tradition of yours. Oh, and you end up falling in love with him.

member: chenle (featuring the dreamies and taeyong)

au: pumpkin patch volunteer!chenle x gn!reader

word count: 11.3k

genre: fluff, angst, humor

warnings: mutual pining, very mild profanity, kissing, teasing

author’s note: I know, I know, the au is oddly specific but just trust me! :) And I’m crossing my fingers that the tags work this time. I have nothing else to say except that I’m very proud of this fic and it was very fun to write, so I hope you enjoy it. Hope everyone who celebrates had a nice Halloween!

The tall, slender lamp post on the sidewalk outside of your house glows a pale amber color under the gray evening sky, illuminating the leaf-littered ground beneath it. You’ve walked past it hundreds, maybe even thousands of times, on a day just like this one. But this time, something’s different.

There’s a small flyer taped somewhat haphazardly to the side of the post, the dark lavender paper catching your eye. It’s positioned perfectly at eye-level, and you begin to read.

Fall is finally here, and you know what that means: The town’s annual pumpkin patch and festival is now open! Pick out your perfect pumpkin, find your way through a corn maze, take a peaceful hayride, and more! Come visit us all throughout the autumn season, 7 days a week from 10am to 8pm, at the corner of Chestnut Way and Fairview Boulevard. There’s fun for the whole family!

Small illustrations of pumpkins and colorful leaves fill the margins of the flyer, and the festive palette seems to brighten up the gloominess of the October day surrounding you.

“Hey!”

Whirling around, you’re met with the sight of your neighbor, Chenle. He’s holding more of the flyers in one hand, a small roll of tape in the other.

Despite him living only a few houses down from you for a number of years, you hardly know anything about him. You suppose he’s always seemed sort of mysterious. Sometimes you would catch glimpses of him outside from your window, and no matter if you saw him snapping photos of the blossoming flower bushes in his yard, riding his bike down the street with some friends, or just sitting on his upstairs balcony with a book in his hand, none of these things gave you any clues as to what he’s really like.

You two have exchanged brief hellos whenever you’ve passed each other on the sidewalk, him on his way somewhere and you heading home, but aside from those fleeting encounters, he’s a puzzle for you to figure out. You can’t help but wonder about him. Is he a quiet or a loud person? Is he on the serious side, or does he laugh at almost anything? What’s his personality like in general? Long story short, Chenle intrigues you, and maybe after today you’ll know at least a little bit more about him.

“Hi,” you return his greeting with a small smile, the kind of smile you give when you’re not exactly sure what else to say.

“Those flyers look pretty good, huh? I helped design them this year!” He explains with a proud grin, placing a hand on his hip as he studies your response. To be fair, he hardly knows anything about you either, and upon seeing you inspecting the flyer, he had decided to approach you and hopefully take a small step towards becoming your friend.

“Really? That’s cool.” The awkwardness in the air between you is far too tangible for your liking, and you silently hope he’ll take the responsibility of carrying on the conversation you’re currently sharing. Luckily, this wish of yours is granted moments later.

“You’ve been to the pumpkin festival before, right?”

You nod. It’s true, the annual tradition is one that everyone in town can enjoy, but in recent years you’ve started to lose interest in the festivities. You’re growing up, and it’s like you’re at this weird in-between stage. Mostly, those that attend are either large families complete with young children eager to explore every corner of the patch, or couples hoping to enjoy the ambience created by the cute decorations and cozy autumn atmosphere. You belong to neither of these groups, and so you’ve felt more than a little out of place the last few times you’ve gone.

You’re not sure if this is something you should share with Chenle, but without waiting for any kind of approval from your brain, the words leave your mouth anyway.

“Yeah, but I don’t really have anyone to go with and I don’t know anyone working there, so I’m not sure if I’ll make it this year.”

He frowns sympathetically for a split second before his face lights up again. “Aw, but I was just about to tell you that I’m volunteering there this year! So... if you’re worried about not having someone to hang out with, you’ll have me.”

“Only if you want!” He quickly adds, and that’s the first time he’s seemed nervous, or at least anything less than completely confident during your conversation. The cutest shade of red appears on his cheeks, and you don’t know how you could possibly refuse his offer now.

“Hmm... I guess I can reconsider, then.” You smile wider, more genuinely this time, after faking your contemplation by tapping your toe and tilting your head, a finger stroking your chin as if in deep thought.

“Really?” He replies happily with a small gasp, and his foot starts to lift off of the pavement to take an excited step towards you before he stops himself. If you notice, you don’t say anything.

You nod once again, and he notes how enthusiastic you seem now. Cute.

“Great! My shifts are on weekdays, from 2 to 7. I’ll see you there?”

“Definitely.”

The next week, you bundle up in your warmest jacket before making your way down the sidewalk, turning when necessary as you navigate the winding streets of your neighborhood. About half a dozen blocks later, you’re out on the main road, and you can just barely spot the entrance to the festival in the distance, orange lights strung along an archway that marks the small trail leading to it.

When you finally reach the inside of the pumpkin patch, the first thing you do is look for Chenle. You regret not asking him exactly where he would be working, but it can’t be that hard to find him, right?

He’s been on edge all afternoon, wondering if you would actually show up. It’s not that he didn’t believe you when you told him you would be there, he most certainly did, but there’s an oddly anxious feeling in his stomach that’s been affecting his behavior and he’s not sure he wants you to see him like this.

Chenle, just like everyone else, can be clumsy sometimes. But today? Today was a whole different story. He nearly dropped one of the biggest pumpkins in the patch while he was trying to lift it from the tall haystack it had been sitting on. His shoelace had somehow become untied while he was walking through the corn maze to check for any candy-apple wrappers or cider cups on the ground. Fortunately enough for him, no one had been around to see him trip over it, saving him at least a little bit of embarrassment. He even accidentally left the door to one of the animal stalls open, earning him a light scolding from his supervisor, Taeyong, and an entire hour on feeding duty for the horse it belonged to, between its scheduled hayride shifts.

It wouldn’t be a good second impression, he decides, if you were here to spend time with him only to see him completely failing at doing his job instead.

So when he spots you not too far away, craning your neck as you search for him among the large crowd, he’s conflicted. Does he face his fear of messing up in front of you and possibly risk your only recently-formed opinion of him, or does he avoid you the whole night? His heart clenches at that last option, and in a spur-of-the-moment decision his legs begin to carry him over to you. Catching your eye, he smiles despite the uncharacteristic lack of confidence in himself that he’s currently feeling.

You’re hurriedly cutting across the sea of people that fills the walkways to meet him, and when you’re within an arm’s reach you start to lift your hand in a small wave. Before you can stop walking completely, however, he takes your raised hand in his own, briskly guiding you off to the side to stand out of the way of the massive group of festival-goers. Just as quickly as he took your hand he releases it again, gently letting it drop to hang by your side.

You only just had your first proper conversation with him a matter of days ago, and he’s your neighbor for goodness’ sake. So why in the world did your heart rate seem to speed up just then?

There’s a small bench nearby, and he motions to it with a nudge of his shoulder. Sitting down next to him, you try your best to ignore the confusing signals that your body’s sending you right now.

“You came!”

“Of course I did,” you reply with a laugh. “It’s nice to have someone to enjoy the festival with for a change. I’ve really missed that.”

“What do you mean?”

You explain to him how it had grown out of being a family tradition, and that your friends always seemed to be busy, leaving you on your own year after year.

“Well... you have me now!” His voice is cheerful, reassuring, and despite all the noise and activity surrounding you at the current moment, it makes you feel at peace.

“Wait.” You glance around, then look back to Chenle. “Shouldn’t you be working, though?”

“...Shoot!” He knew he was forgetting something.

Standing up from the bench you share, he continues. “You can come with me if you want, but I can’t promise that any part of my job will be interesting.”

“It’s okay,” you giggle, standing up as well and following him over to a small covered tent. The inside is packed with people, weaving in and out of aisles created by several wooden tables full of small, colorful gourds. The boy behind the cash register shouts his name, beckoning him over with his hand.

“Hey Chenle, can you come help me weigh these pumpkins? Donghyuck had to go help some kids at the crafts area and business isn’t slowing down anytime soon.” He’s too busy typing numbers into a small computer system to notice that he’s speaking to more than one person. When his eyes finally lift up from the keys, he asks, “Who’s this?”

Chenle introduces you to each other, and you learn that his name is Mark. The gray beanie he’s wearing is somewhat lopsided on his head, dark hair sticking out from beneath it after all the times he’s cutely scratched the back of his neck.

While Mark and Chenle ring up dozens of customers, you entertain yourself by browsing through the wide variety of miniature pumpkins and squashes, some green, some white, some yellow. You occasionally pick up an oddly shaped one, running a finger over the small bumps or darkened bruises on the surface of the fruit.

When you look over at the register again, the line has died down, and after a moment of consideration your eyes land on a vibrant orange pumpkin that looks like it would fit perfectly in the palm of your hand. Picking it up, you smile a little to yourself as you turn, pulling your wallet out from your pocket and patiently waiting behind the 4 groups in line ahead of you.

By the time you finally step up to the checkout counter, Chenle’s been wondering where you went. He hadn’t seen you when he was gifted with the rare chance to look up from the metal scale he’s been constantly working at for almost an hour now. Maybe you got bored, he thinks, and left to go do something else or to just go home altogether. So when he sees the familiar sleeve of your jacket enter his peripheral vision as you place your tiny pumpkin down in front of him, he looks up faster than he thought humanly possible, in both surprise and relief. “You know you don’t have to buy anything,” he attempts to whisper in the hopes of hiding his words from Mark.

“But I want to. This pumpkin’s really cute,” you insist with a pleading look in your eyes.

Like you, he nearly mutters. That would have been a disaster.

“Do you want me to pay for it?” He offers, almost pouting at this point.

“Such a gentleman,” you tease, “But no. I promise, I’ve got it.”

“If you insist,” he responds, matching the sarcastic tone of your words and hoping to distract from his reddening ears. Chenle weighs the pumpkin and then places it into a small bag that you sling over your shoulder, where it will stay for the remainder of the day.

Unbeknownst to both of you, Mark’s eyebrow raises at the playfulness of your conversation. Maybe you don’t notice the furious blush on Chenle’s face, but he certainly does. And he won’t forget it.

“Hey, uh, guys? Donghyuck just texted me that he needs a hand. Do you think you could go meet up with him and help out a little?”

“Are you sure you can handle things here, Mark?”

“Yeah, I’ll be fine. But Donghyuck won’t be if those kids are deprived of craft supplies for much longer.” He reaches underneath the counter and pulls out a huge stack of plastic sticker sheets, with small images of bats, candy, and everything in between. “Take these.”

“Thanks, Mark! See you later!”

“It was nice to meet you!” You call out over your shoulder, and as you momentarily focus your attention on the boy behind you that’s getting farther away by the second, you’re too caught up in saying your goodbyes to notice that the one beside you grabs your hand again. Chenle gently pulls you away from the counter and out from under the tent, steadily making your way towards the other side of the large pumpkin patch.

You were lucky that Mark had the decency to at least pretend there was nothing going on between you and Chenle. He had refrained from commenting on it in front of you, and simply chuckled to himself when he saw both of you walk off together, hand-in-hand. He finds it amusing that neither one of you seems to notice the mutual fondness the other so obviously has for you. Mark doesn’t know a lot about you, but he knows you must be pretty special to be able to fluster Chenle like that.

Donghyuck, on the other hand, does not possess the same decency.

When you reach the crafts area, which is a small, designated space with several picnic tables and bins full of art supplies like glitter, paint sets, and markers, he gratefully approaches Chenle and accepts the large bundle of stickers from him. Like he’s feeding a hungry mob of seagulls with just a few breadcrumbs, Donghyuck essentially tosses them to the large group of children eagerly jumping at his feet. Scurrying away as they snatch the plastic sheets out of the air and get back to decorating their pumpkins, his eyes land on you for the first time.

With a smug, knowing smirk and an exaggerated nod of his head towards your tightly intertwined fingers, he asks, “Who’s this, Chenle?”

You know those movie scenes where two characters look at each other, at something else, then back at each other again? That’s exactly what happens. Chenle’s and your eyes meet, surprise evident on every feature of your faces, before you both realize the exact same thing at the same time. With shaky pupils, your gazes drift down to each other’s arm, then to your hands, laced together and acting as a source of warmth on this chilly autumn day. Much faster this time, you make eye contact again before rapidly but unwillingly pulling your hands away. The guilty smiles you send Donghyuck’s way say it all.

Chenle introduces you for the second time today as his neighbor, but deep down you both wish it was as something else, something more.

“I see,” Donghyuck says under his breath, in a huff of poorly concealed laughter.

Only Chenle hears him, though, and Donghyuck earns himself a rough shove to the shoulder with the snarky comment. You’re looking in a different direction, vision focused on a small child with a frown on her face as she struggles to embellish the small orange gourd on the table in front of her.

“Chenle?”

“Yeah?”

“I’m gonna go see if I can help that little girl with her pumpkin.” You point a finger in the general direction of the picnic table she’s sitting at, glancing back at him for a second as you make your way over to her.

She’s close to tears now, and crouching down beside her small form, you ask, “What’s wrong, sweetie?”

The girl looks down at you, rushing to wipe her eyes before explaining in a quiet, shaky voice, “None of these stickers are the shape I want for my pumpkin...”

Oh, you realize, she’s trying to make a jack-o-lantern face.

“Um...” Upon looking around, you spot a piece of paper nearby on the table and hand her a purple marker from one of the art supply containers. “Well, can you draw what you want the face to look like and maybe I can help?”

With a small “Mhm,” she takes the marker from you and begins to sketch four odd-looking but not totally unfeasible shapes for the pumpkin’s eyes, nose, and mouth.

A good distance away, Chenle is growing tired of Donghyuck’s endless interrogations about you and if he’s absolutely positively sure that you’re not something more than just neighbors. He wordlessly excuses himself from Donghyuck’s side to join you by the picnic table.

The drawings that the little girl comes up with look like a deformed mix of squares, circles, and triangles. Thankfully, you have access to stickers shaped like all three, and you get an idea.

“What are we working on over here?”

Looking up to see Chenle kneeling down opposite you, resting an arm on the wooden surface of the bench, you notice that his voice is different. Not in terms of its pitch or volume, but just in the way that he’s speaking. It’s even more gentle than usual, filled with concern and care, all because he’s talking to a child. How endearing, you think to yourself, smiling down at the ground for a moment or two before you remember the task at hand.

“They’re helping me with my jack-o-lantern!” The little girl exclaims excitedly, causing Chenle to grin wider than you’d ever seen so far and allowing you to get a glimpse of his adorable eye smile for the very first and certainly not the last time.

Nope. Your heart did not just flutter. At least, that’s what you’ll keep telling yourself.

With a wave of your hand you motion for him to stand up, you doing the same before whispering your plan into his ear. Exchanging nods, you both crouch back down again and set to work, guiding the little girl as she overlaps the stickers on the pumpkin to match the picture she drew.

When you’re finished, she claps her hands together and thanks you multiple times, her genuine gratitude warming both of your hearts more than a blanket or a heater ever could.

“Wait,” you turn back around just as you’re about to walk over to Donghyuck once again. Flipping through the sticker sheets scattered across the table, you find exactly the one you’re looking for and peel it from the plastic.

“Wha—”

Before Chenle can even begin his sentence, you’re already pressing the small acorn sticker onto his cheek, giggling softly at how a blush seems to blossom from underneath it, the adorable pink hue spreading all the way to the tip of his nose. Your thumb applies the slightest amount of pressure to his skin while the remaining fingers hold the side of his face, and your other hand clutches his shoulder over the burgundy sweater he’s wearing. It’s at this moment that it dawns on you: This is definitely not a “neighborly” exchange.

You jump back in shock at your own actions. “Oh my god, I’m sorry, I really don’t know why I did that.” Inwardly releasing a string of profuse curses, you awkwardly step closer a second time, lifting your hand again to try to peel it from his face and just wishing this mortifying moment would be over already.

“It’s okay, you can leave it,” he stutters a little, taking a tiny step backwards. “I don’t mind.”

Not really knowing how else to bring the uncomfortable (well, that’s an understatement) conversation to a close, you let his last words hang in the air, casting daunting shadows over your heads as you both repeat the same thought over and over again in your minds like a mantra.

I shouldn’t like them...

Trying and failing to sneak a slight glance at the other, your gazes meet at the same time, both of you looking away just as quickly once you realize you’ve been caught red-handed. Or in this case, red-faced.

...But I do.

A few minutes prior, another festival volunteer had taken over Mark’s job at the cash register, leaving him free to roam around for at least a little while. Not knowing where else to go, he had come to see Donghyuck, and by default, you and Chenle.

As they watch your rather amusing response to the realization of and sudden embarrassment at such a shameless display of your crush on Chenle that you can’t quite bring yourself to accept just yet, Mark and Donghyuck talk lowly amongst themselves.

“He should just ask them out already. I haven’t even known that they exist for 15 minutes and I’m already sick of seeing them both deny their feelings for each other. It’s so painfully obvious!” Donghyuck makes a gagging noise, earning a glare from Mark.

“It’s kind of cute, though. Like puppy love.”

“Whatever you say, Romeo,” he snickers.

“Hey!” Mark shoves his shoulder, annoyed. Donghyuck just laughs.

Pulling out his phone, the younger boy types up a quick text message before hitting the small arrow to send it. Out of the corner of his eye, Mark sees the delivered blue speech bubble appear on the screen and asks him, “Who’s that to?”

“Jeno. He and Jaemin have got to see this.”

Not even a minute later, Chenle’s own phone dings with a message from the former of the aforementioned boys, providing a distraction from and successfully dispelling some of the tension that continues to weigh down on you both.

Once he finishes reading the text, Chenle looks up at you and explains, “Two of my friends are working concessions and they’re almost out of a few things, so I need to go pick up what they need and bring it to them.”

You frown a little and furrow your eyebrows. “Isn’t it weird that everyone’s been asking you to go from place to place bringing them stuff all day?”

Now that he thinks about it, you’re right. But there’s no time to stand around and wonder why there seems to be a pattern with his tasks today.

“Bye Donghyuck! We’re gonna go help Jaemin and Jeno at the concessions stand!”

Was it too much to ask for Chenle to absentmindedly grab your hand again? Apparently yes, because much to your disappointment he refrains from doing so this time.

“Did you seriously ask Jeno to make up a fake excuse for help just so you could get them to leave?” Mark questions him, a clearly unamused expression on his face.

“First of all, no. He actually told me that they’re running low on candy apples. And second, not only that, but also so they can see just how hopelessly they’re crushing on each other.”

“Meaning that they can tease them about it, too, right?”

“Exactly!”

Mark rolls his eyes. He supposes he shouldn’t even be surprised at this point. Donghyuck is always full of mischief.

You remain by Chenle’s side as he leads you towards a storage area for the festival and over to the kitchen section, where he grabs a medium-sized cooler packed with freshly candied apples. The walk is filled with casual conversation, any awkward encounters earlier in the day becoming long forgotten, or at least temporarily put out of your minds.

Not having any of his friends around to tease you helps, too.

The few minutes you have to yourselves come to an end all too soon, and as you approach a large booth that appears to be full of just about every autumn snack imaginable, you catch the eye of one of the two boys standing behind it. Whether it’s Jeno or Jaemin, you’re not sure. But sure enough, like everyone else you’ve met so far today, his gaze becomes one of surprise and interest upon seeing the way you’re walking so close to the tall boy at your side.

You decide to take the liberty of introducing yourself this time instead of leaving Chenle to do it for you. Reaching an arm out in front of you, you shyly step up to the conveniently empty counter of the stand. The first boy shakes your hand while the other turns around, eyes darting from you to Chenle multiple times.

“I’m Jaemin,” he lets go of your hand, but not before shooting you a wink and a ridiculously charming grin. Chenle’s stomach churns with jealousy. The boy is always like this, Chenle knows, but with you it’s different. Normally it’s just the regular flirtatious remark directed at a passing customer, making them nearly spill their popcorn or choke on their cotton candy. Despite his awareness of the fact that he means no harm, Chenle still has to fight the urge to pull you into him protectively. Jaemin picks up on his sudden envy but chooses not to mess with him further.

The second one speaks up, doing the same as Jaemin without the wink, instead displaying an endearing eye-smile of his own. “I’m Jeno.” His eyes light up when they land on the freezing container Chenle’s carrying. “Are those the candy apples?” He exclaims. “Thank you so much!”

“No problem,” Chenle grunts in response as he hands it to Jeno over the counter, still bitter about Jaemin’s coquettish introduction of himself. Picking up on his annoyed tone, you send a confused glance and then a sympathetic smile the boy’s way as you try to subtly calm whatever frustration that remains within him.

He softens immediately, regretting any worry he may have just caused you with his uncharacteristically cold demeanor. It’s immediately forgotten when Jaemin motions for the both of you to round the corner of the booth. Stepping inside from the back, you instantly realize it’s much too cramped to fit four people.

You’re about to excuse yourselves to go stand outside again when Jeno strides past, just a little too close for comfort. Taking a step back to move completely out of his way, you make a fatal miscalculation: Chenle’s right behind you. With a thud your back crashes into his stomach, and the awkwardness is more than just palpable.

Throughout the next few minutes you look for every opportunity to step away from him and escape the mutual discomfort of your current position, but business at the concessions stand picks up and both of the boys are constantly rushing back and forth, leaving you no room to do so. It’s not a physical discomfort, not in the slightest, but more so one where your self-consciousness is heightened, and you’re aware that it looks like something a couple would do, the way a couple would stand. In any other moment, perhaps a more private one, you might not have minded the proximity so much, but the public setting you’re in creates the need that you feel to visibly reject the non-existent distance between you and him.

Chenle could get used to how perfectly you two seem to fit together in what’s almost a back hug, with the way he could oh so easily wrap his arms around you from behind. Just not here, not now. Would it be too much, he thinks, for him to place a gentle hand on your shoulder as you both wait for the chance to separate from each other? He decides the answer is no, and as you both endure constant gusts of air each time Jaemin and Jeno pass you, Chenle holds you, grip light on the space between your arm and neck that’s covered in the cotton material of your jacket. His touch eases your nerves about the situation, for which you’re beyond thankful.

While you wait, your eyes find themselves lingering on the customers that shuffle through the line, some young, some old, tall or short. The scrumptious scents wafting within the booth begin to overwhelm your noses after some time, the pungent aroma of apples and spiced cinnamon becoming almost too much to bear for your sense of smell.

As expected, by the time you actually notice there’s finally enough space for you to step away from each other, you’ve already gotten comfortable where you are. The delayed response to this makes Jeno chuckle under his breath, handing a final box of pumpkin pie to an older couple over the counter of the concessions stand.

Glancing down at his watch, Chenle notes how much time has flown by since you arrived at the festival. He also realizes it’s nearly time for his shift at the horse stables, uttering a quick explanation to you and then the other two boys in the booth.

Exchanging brief farewells, you follow Chenle outside and down a thin path to a more secluded area of the festival grounds, out by the field where hayrides are given. On the way, you pass by the corn maze and the games area. The boys manning the attractions both look as if they’re part of the same group of volunteers that Chenle has introduced you to so far, if you had to guess.

Your assumption is confirmed when he waves at the first one, who’s standing beside a small group of children playing bean bag toss. Scanning the area for any supervisors that could scold him for running off for a minute, he darts over to the two of you.

It’s refreshing that he doesn’t inspect you from head to toe with his gaze, something that had happened to you far too much today. “I’m Chenle’s neighbor,” you start before telling him your name, feeling optimistic that he won’t bug you about your connection to each other very much.

“I’m Jisung,” he responds. Then, “Chenle never brings people to the festival like this. Are you dating or something?”

Never mind.

You inwardly facepalm at his blunt statement. Chenle actually does, the smack against his forehead sounding almost painful.

“We have to get going now, Jisung. I just wanted to introduce you to each other.” Despite being frustrated with the younger’s directness, Chenle still gives him a quick side hug and a “Bye” as you walk away, presumably to stop by the corn maze briefly as you had just done with the games area.

“They never answered my question,” Jisung mumbles to himself.

“Renjun!” Chenle calls, hoping this encounter will go more smoothly than the last. Surprisingly enough, it does. The boy extends a hand out for you to shake with a kind smile, not asking any questions about your relationship with Chenle. You’re extremely grateful that he accepts your status as his neighbor and nothing more.

Only when you’re turned away, gazing into the distance at the hustle and bustle of the event does he pat Chenle firmly on the back, exaggerating a wink and whispering a “Go get ‘em, tiger” into his ear. Chenle scowls at Renjun, groaning about being teased the entire day just for bringing someone to the festival with him.

“Alright, alright, I’ll leave you alone.” Renjun starts to back off, but he simply can’t help himself. The next words that spill from his lips will be the last, he vows in his mind. At least, for now.

“...You like them, though, don’t you?”

“Mmph,” Chenle reluctantly replies after a moment, offering a noncommittal answer.

“Don’t overlook it, okay? You never know. They might feel the same way,” he gives Chenle’s arm a quick squeeze before sending him over to you. The light tap he plants on your shoulder makes you turn around with a smile, expectantly gazing up at him. “Ready to go?”

“Yep,” he nods towards the stables, and you both wave back at Renjun as you make your way over to the large structure.

An unfamiliar man leans against one of the walls once you get there. When he sees Chenle, he straightens up and runs a hand through his brown hair, a slight smile tugging at his lips.

The man steps aside from his spot on the wall to reveal a shelf full of animal care items, from cleaning supplies to heavy bags of feed and dry bundles of straw for the ground inside the stalls. “You know what to do,” he nods at the boy while eyeing you carefully at the same time.

Chenle manages to read his mind surprisingly fast, and he jumps to defend your presence. “They’re with me,” he clarifies.

“But you know the rules, Chenle.”

“Just this once, Taeyong! Pleeease?”

Unable to resist the puppy-like expression on his face, Chenle’s supervisor finally caves. That, combined with the way your face fell when he threatened to send you away in a nonverbal manner is enough to make Taeyong change his mind. A minuscule inkling inside of his brain tells him that you’re okay to be by Chenle’s side as he does his job, even if it might mean that he’ll get distracted at times.

“I suppose they can stay.”

“Yes! Thanks, Taeyong!”

“Wait a minute, what’s that on your face?”

Chenle brings a hand up because he’s genuinely forgotten, but when his fingertips brush the cheap plastic sticker on his cheek he remembers how it got there. “Oh, it’s... uh.” He looks to you for help.

“I did that,” you explain with an embarrassed laugh. “We were joking around and I stuck it on his face.”

“Oh, okay, just making sure you know it’s there.”

Some friends he has, Chenle gripes internally. They didn’t even bother to point it out. What if it had been something else?

Luckily, he doesn’t mind the cute sticker, even if it does make him blush like a fool when he thinks about your cute hands pressing it onto his skin.

As Taeyong passes him on his way out of the stable doors, he pinches one of his rounded cheeks, leaving the younger boy cringing in the process.

Time passes somewhat slowly as you watch Chenle go about doing his tasks, first taking one small handful of the horse’s food at a time and feeding it to her, steadily depleting her evening meal little by little. Then he grabs a broom and steps into the stall to sweep some of her bedding.

“What’s her name?” You ask him after a while, the simplicity of his actions creating a calming effect on you as you observe them. You only know it’s a female because you had heard him mutter “Good girl” to the horse rather affectionately a few minutes earlier.

“Nutmeg.”

“That’s cute,” you reply.

The silence feels heavy, begging you to face what you’ve both left unsaid throughout the day. It’s the first time you’ve really been alone together since you got here. But you’re both too scared to bring up the countless assumptions made by his friends over and over again during the time you’ve spent together that you’re dating, fearing that the conversation, supposed to be a joking one, would inevitably progress into something much deeper.

“I’ve had fun today.”

He says it out of nowhere, making both your body and your heart jump a little.

“Me too.” He peeks his head out from the stall to smile at you, your response tinging the tips of his ears red.

A few minutes go by as you fall into a light dialogue, talking about anything and everything you can think of, getting to know each other more. As he’s finishing up, you finally stand from where you’ve been seated for the past 45 minutes, walking leisurely over to the shelf of supplies, which just so happens to be next to the stall door.

All of a sudden Nutmeg hears something that spooks her, and you don’t realize that she starts to charge towards the closed pair of wooden panels you’re currently right beside.

It’s an instant in which Chenle’s clumsiness from earlier in the day threatens to come back in a much more severe form if he doesn’t do something. Senses more alert than yours for whatever reason, he takes action without hesitation, and time seems to slow before his eyes as he does so.

Swiftly moving you out of the way of the split stall door less than a second before it swings open from the force of the horse’s strong neck, Chenle pulls you to him. His arms dart out to catch you tightly by the waist while he turns both of your bodies around, ensuring that he’s the one closest to the enclosure. His reasoning? If he doesn’t take you out of harm’s way fast enough, at least he’ll be the one that feels the impact, not you.

As you’re being held flush against his chest, your mind races to process just how you got into this position. But your heart presses pause on the gears of your brain, and allows you to just enjoy the close intimacy of the moment.

Chenle knows he should do something, say something, but all he can think of is to stay just like this. Your head is turned to the side, an ear pressed to his sternum and in the perfect spot to hear his heartbeat. Its not-so-steady thump matches your own, sounding much like the uneven rhythm that a young child might play on a drum set, striking the instrument with force and conviction and unwavering confidence.

If only you could confront your feelings for him in the same way.

Both thanking him and apologizing profusely for your lack of awareness, you move to take a tiny step back and away from the snug hold of his arms. Only, you find that you can’t. Chenle’s still holding your waist, oblivious to the fact that he’s been clutching you closely for the past thirty seconds in preparation for a moment that lasted less than one.

“You... you can let go of me now, Chenle,” you say apprehensively, a half smile on your lips as you attempt to look him in the eye without being overwhelmed by the urge to kiss him right then and there.

“Ah, right. My bad.”

Chenle’s not usually this bold when it comes to the physicality of a relationship, romantic or not. But he can’t help it that there seems to be an invisible gravitational force surrounding you, just begging for him to reach out and lay a tender hand on the small of your back. Compelling him to tangle your fingers together like a mess of yarn, with the ends fraying and coming undone but at the same time holding each other up, keeping each other from falling apart. Giving one another something to hold on to in the most unlikely of situations.

With only a few minutes left to spare in his shift, he tells you to wait outside while he packs all of the supplies up for the night. Once everything is back in its proper place, Chenle is just about to step outside through the swinging wooden doors of the stables when a small noise from the caramel-colored horse stops him in his tracks. Turning around, he carefully approaches the animal with an outstretched arm, stroking her shiny mane once he’s close enough.

“What am I going to do, Nutmeg?” The conversation is a futile one, he knows, but it proves to be therapeutic for his conscience. She nuzzles his hand with her snout as he leans onto the wall, lost in thought.

“Should I tell them how I feel?” Her large dark eyes peer back at him, and as silly as it sounds, Chenle gets the sense that she actually understands, despite her inability to respond with comprehensible words.

“I’ll do it, then. Not tonight, but soon. Before autumn ends,” he vows, making a promise to himself and his heart all at once.

Nutmeg lets out a small whinny as if to express her approval. Smiling at the animal’s nonverbal reassurance, he opens the door to step out into the chilly fall night, strides a little lighter and head held higher than usual.

As the small clock tower set up in the middle of the festival grounds tolls seven times, loud clangs disrupting the low and indistinct chatter of the evening, you and Chenle return to the same bench you sat on that afternoon, eyes heavy and feet tired by now.

“Your shift is over now, right?”

“Yeah,” he affirms. “Ready to go home?”

“Definitely.”

The festival has mostly cleared out, which is surprising for the time of night that it currently is. The lack of all the hustle and bustle around you makes it significantly easier to navigate the paths extending in nearly every direction across the grounds.

On your way to the exit of the festival, the same autumn-themed archway you ducked under several hours ago, you pass a few of the boys you met during the day, offering a small wave goodbye to them.

The roads are quiet as you and Chenle walk next to each other on the paved sidewalk, the streetlights placed at every small intersection between the tightly-knit suburban roads providing the only source of illumination. With no one around to hear his shaky voice, he turns to you and stutters out, “I know I didn’t ask for your permission to do this earlier, but may I hold your hand?”

You let him, but not without a bashful scratch to the back of your neck and a mumbled answer of “Sure” directed his way.

Like two schoolchildren with the biggest and most obvious crushes on each other, there’s a skip in both of your steps as you walk the rest of the way home. Insisting on staying outside of your house until he sees the light in your bedroom window turn on, Chenle bids you a sweet goodnight with a lingering hug and a small kiss to the top of your head that he mistakenly thinks you don’t notice.

That night you fall asleep with a smile on your face, visions of pumpkins dancing through your mind and the small one that you bought resting on your nightstand beside you.

It’s the first thing you see when you wake up the next morning, and you reach out to take the small item in your palm. You’re convinced that you can still feel the warmth of Chenle’s hands cradling it as he placed it on the scale, recording the measurement before he gave the miniature pumpkin to Mark, who told you how much it cost. You were so eager to accept the small tote bag Chenle was extending out to you that you didn’t even bother asking for your change back, shoving the money into Mark’s hand and insisting that he keep it.

Your eyes land on the same bag, sitting in the corner of your room, and it makes your face break out into a bright grin. Not even bothered by how early you’ve woken up, you bound down the stairs for breakfast, the most excited for the day ahead you can ever remember being.

You spend the next couple of weeks visiting Chenle during his shifts at the festival, sometimes staying late enough for him to walk you home like he did that first day. With each time he sees you, he warms up to your presence, becoming more like his usual witty and hardly-ever-flustered self. Oddly enough you start to act less and less like a couple, which doesn’t go unnoticed by his friends. The incessant blushing is gradually replaced by sarcastic banter with one another. You don’t know anyone who makes you laugh like Chenle does.

“Hey,” he pipes up one afternoon as you’re watching him organize some pumpkins. “What if I dyed my hair this color?” Chenle points to one that’s a particularly vivid shade of orange, raising his eyebrows as you think of a reply.

“Then you’d look like a pumpkin,” you hum in response.

He chuckles. “Is that supposed to be a bad thing?“

You shake your head. “Not necessarily. Are you really going to dye it, though?”

“Probably not.”

“As you wish, pumpkin.”

He whirls around, nearly dropping the stack of gourds in his hands. “What did you just say?”

“You heard me... pumpkin,” you smirk after repeating the new nickname, and it puts an impossibly cute pout on his face.

“Don’t call me that!”

You jokingly ruffle his hair, and Chenle’s small smile betrays his annoyed facade as he realizes he could get used to hearing the word roll off your tongue, not to mention you addressing him with it.

It’s the week of Halloween when the six boys that volunteer with Chenle at the festival meet up to create a plan that will, ideally, end with both of you confessing your feelings. All but one of them, which happens to be Mark, excitedly discuss possible ways to set you two up. Should they send you on a private hayride somehow? Or maybe they could get you to try out the corn maze together, and hopefully you would struggle with finding your way out long enough to express your mutual crushes on each other.

“I don’t know about this, guys. I still think we should just let them figure it out on their own.”

“You’re no fun, Mark,” Donghyuck chastises. The eldest shrugs, an expression of resignation on his face. At least he tried.

Finally, they decide on having both of you move between each of their respective areas or booths around the festival, dropping as many hints to you about the other’s infatuation as possible. First you’ll start the evening off by navigating through the corn maze, which they realize is impossible for you to get lost in since Chenle had to memorize the map of it. So much for their earlier plan.

After that, Renjun will usher you off towards Jisung’s station, the game area. Conveniently, he’ll suggest you play the balloon dart toss together, but there’s going to be a catch: one of you has to carry the other in their arms while they throw them. They laugh a little at how flustered they imagine you’ll get.

Next, Mark and Donghyuck will help you pick out the best pumpkin to carve for the upcoming holiday. You’ll start to pick it up, but Chenle will insist on holding it instead. If you had heard this, you would be fuming. Who says you’re not strong enough to carry a pumpkin on your own? You’ll show them.

To end the night, Jaemin and Jeno will “accidentally” only give you one stick of cotton candy, forcing you to share. By that time, they hope you’ll be perceptive enough to finally see that the attraction is mutual, diminishing the fear of rejection in both of your minds.

Not so surprisingly, nothing would go as planned.

The boys put their little scheme into action on the night of October 30th. Chenle is actually finished with his days of volunteering at this point, and even though he could stay home after working many long hours over the past few weeks, he opts to visit the festival as a guest this evening, with you by his side.

He picks you up outside of your house, waiting on the sidewalk right next to the same lamp post that the flyer for the festival was taped to, also known as the entire reason why you’re in this situation in the first place. If you hadn’t taken the time to read those words on the purple-colored page, you honestly don’t know where you’d be right now.

Dressed in your favorite and coziest autumn outfit, you practically fly down the stairs of your front porch to greet him. Like you’ve gotten used to doing by now, he holds your hand in his as you walk, taking the same route you always do.

Chenle’s heart beats a little faster when he sees your eyes light up at the sight of the festival in the distance. For the first time, you’ll both be able to enjoy the event together without being bombarded by constant requests to help with various tasks throughout the night. Or so you thought.

From the moment you step foot inside the grounds, Jisung is already standing at the entrance and hurriedly directing you to the corn maze. Confused but obedient nonetheless, you both head towards where his finger is pointing.

Chenle knows something is up as soon as he sees a familiar mischievous twinkle in Renjun’s dark eyes. “You go ahead, I’ll catch up,” he tells you.

“Chenle, it’s a maze. I don’t think they work like that.” He ignores your playful sarcasm.

Speaking in the quietest voice he can muster, which is quite a feat for him, Chenle leans in close to whisper harshly in the older boy’s ear. “What are you trying to pull?”

At a volume level that’s loud enough for you to hear, Renjun replies, “The others and I thought it would be fun to plan out your evening a little! So first we want you to start here, at the corn maze.”

“Aw, really? That sounds like fun!” Oblivious to the group’s true motives, you endorse their plan with your words. “Better get started,” Renjun winks. As you turn to make your way in between the tall rows of vegetables, he roughly yanks Chenle backward to quietly say, “There isn’t a more perfect time to confess to them, I mean, a romantic autumn night at the festival? Make a move already,” he encourages.

Glowering back at him, Chenle reluctantly follows you into the maze.

Only 15 minutes later you emerge from the corn stalks, the boys’ scheme momentarily forgotten. It quickly comes to mind again when you find Jisung waiting outside for you for the second time that night. One time too many, in Chenle’s opinion.

Not missing a beat, the younger of the two boys leads you both over to the area he’s assigned to. The wall of colorful balloons catches your attention immediately. “Let’s play this one!” You exclaim as you tug on his sleeve like a little kid. Delighted with your choice, Jisung quickly explains the rules, but the twist he adds to them goes right over your head. In fact, you’re the one that offers to carry Chenle first. Neither of your faces turn pink with embarrassed blushes.

You don’t even bat an eyelash as you carry the pumpkin that you picked out together in your arms, much to Donghyuck’s dismay. Mark just stands to the side, amused at their attempts to artificially force confessions out of you. The singular stick of cotton candy that Jaemin hands to you over the counter of the concessions stand fails to phase either of you whatsoever, and you end up just pinching off small pieces from the sticky sweet dessert with your hands. Jeno points out your simple solution to the boy standing next to him, observing their failure. “Why didn’t we think of that?” He mumbles.

The six boys finally gather together when they collectively realize they didn’t succeed, but actually did just the opposite. Making a small circle, they start to argue and pointlessly blame one another for causing everything to go wrong. You only manage to catch a few words of their heated conversation, but something in your gut tells you that they were up to more than just creating a schedule of activities for you to follow.

Exchanging glances, you and Chenle nod at each other, about to try and quietly slip away from them. Hand in hand, you take careful steps backwards, but before you can dash away Mark catches sight of you. Thankfully, he smiles a little and puts a finger to his lips, making a “shh” sign as he waves his hand in a signal for you to hurry up.

Abandoning all of your cares, you give up on going unnoticed by the group and shamelessly scamper off in the opposite direction.

“Wait, I know that place!” You shout excitedly as you pass a small playground meant for the younger visitors to the festival. “Can we go over there?” You plead with him, but you suppose you shouldn’t call it that since he gives in to your request so easily.

The child-sized vehicle standing in the center of the play area is a familiar sight to you, and Chenle knows what you’re about to ask him before you even open your mouth. “Go ahead,” he says with a loving smile on his face as he motions to the carriage, designed to look like the very object that the entire festival itself centers around. Catching up to you, Chenle steps forward a little so that he reaches the small stairs leading up to it first.

“Your highness,” Chenle bows, crossing one foot behind the other and bending a knee. Opening the creaky door to the pumpkin carriage for you, he gestures to the inside of the oversized fruit, the graceful movement ushering you to climb inside. You bashfully tug on your striped scarf, holding the woolen material up against your cheeks as you laugh at his chivalrous display. It tickles a little, and he thinks you look even more adorable bundled up like that.

The interior is much smaller than you remember. But then again, you had been much smaller the last time you sat in this very seat.

Calling the inside of the carriage cramped is an understatement. There are two narrow benches on either side of it, the space on the floor between them barely enough to fit the legs of one occupant, much less two. Chenle struggles but eventually sits down across from you, unintentionally forcing your knees to rest in between his. The small windows on the squeaky, rusty doors do little to let in any light whatsoever. In the darkness, you can’t see the boy’s face flush at your closeness.

‘What now?’ You think to yourself, wondering if you’re brave enough in this moment to finally tell him how you feel, how much you enjoy his company, how special he’s become to you. And though you don’t know it, across from you Chenle is contemplating doing the same. He beats you to it with his next actions.

Your racing train of thought skids to an abrupt halt when you feel his hand on the lower part of your thigh, touch innocent and timid as it lingers on the soft fabric of your corduroy pants.

Eyes hurriedly adjusting to the dim space surrounding you, you feel his fingers grasp your own before you see them. At last you make eye contact with each other, gazes boring into one another and recognizing the same things, the same feelings in them. Chenle’s clutching your hand in his now, the first still resting comfortably on your thigh, and you feel the dull sensation of his legs bending inward, squeezing your knees together. His mouth opens, rounded lips parting as though to ask the question that you both already know the answer to. You bring an arm up to hold him by the shoulder, the movement in itself confirming that this is what you want as well. That he’s what you want.

Careful not to bump your heads against the low ceiling of the carriage, he leans towards you, closing the already minimal distance between your faces as he meets your lips in a kiss.

Heads tilting and eyelashes fluttering shut at the same instant, you both pour every unspoken thought, every secret glance, every loving word that never made it past your lips into the contact they currently share. The moment itself feels long overdue, like something you could have done on that first day you spent at the festival together.

It means more this way, though. The amount of time it took for this to happen gave you more time to discover and get comfortable with the way you feel about Chenle. To get comfortable with him. His presence, his humor, his personality, his touch, everything about him is something you’ve grown to depend on over these past few weeks.

Even your lips begin to depend on Chenle as they fall into place against his own, moving with a fervor you weren’t even aware you possessed.

There’s a quiet rhythm to the osculation of your lips, an airy sigh or breath from one of you breaking the silence every few seconds. In the midst of the indescribably wonderful sensation that is the kiss you’re sharing, you faintly feel his hand start to move up and down your leg, not in a provocative way but a reassuring one. His loving caresses have you leaning further into him even though there’s barely enough room to do so, making you wish for one reason and one reason alone that you were having this kiss somewhere else. Otherwise, the location is perfect.

More than a decade has passed since you were just a young child, begrudgingly posing for a photo for your parents by poking your head out through the same small window of the carriage. Since then, the orange of the paint has dulled, the once-soft carpet on the floor has become coarse from the countless shoes that have trodden over it. The wooden doors are splintered and, though never functional, the carriage’s large wheels have undoubtedly begun to show their age with the amount of dirt and dust caught in the grooves.

You’ve made many memories in this place, but the one you’re making today is sure to be unforgettable.

Chenle would give anything to be able to hold you right now, to maybe bring you onto his lap in a tender embrace as he shows you just how fast and how hard he’s fallen for you. Not that volunteering at the festival was a bad thing at all, but you made it so much more bearable, so much more fun. The thought of spending another perfect day with you was more than enough to get him out of bed every morning.

He compromises for the restrictions that the enclosed space places on your movements by untangling his fingers from yours, choosing to cup your cheek with them instead. You’re a little disappointed when his hand lifts from its place on your thigh, anxiousness bubbling up in your gut as you anticipate where he’s going to place it next.

It’s safe to say you just about melt when you feel his palm come up to delicately cradle one side of your chin, thumb darting out to glide along the skin that’s just below your bottom lip. Arching into him, you make the most of the little room you have left to pull him closer.

It’s then that your lungs finally catch up to both of you, sending simultaneous signals telling you to breathe. Granted, Chenle’s kisses feel like all the oxygen you’ll ever need anyway.

Reluctantly leaning away, your chests heave with muted but sharp gasps. A pang of worry hits you when he doesn’t smile, doesn’t laugh, doesn’t say anything. His mouth has fallen open, eyes wide with just as much anticipation as you feel. Taking what feels like the biggest breath in your life, you pray your voice doesn’t tremble as you speak for the first time since you clambered into the dark, cozy carriage.

“I really like you, Chenle.”

The relief that washes over you when he responds is unlike any you’ve ever felt before.

“I like you, too.”

But he’s not done.

“...A lot, in case you hadn’t noticed.” The extra detail makes you giggle, smiling shyly at anything that isn’t him.

He goes to lean in again when you stop him. “Wait, wait, can we at least get out of here first? I want to do this properly.”

You scoot sideways after he nods in agreement, far enough for him to open the door and step down from the elevated imitation of a pumpkin. He extends a hand up to you once he’s on solid ground again, and you take it. His face breaks into that signature bubbly grin of his that’s more contagious than you’d like to admit.

Joining him on the grassy surface, you dramatically stretch your arms out in front of you, waiting for him to reciprocate the hug you’re implicitly requesting.

The impish twinkle in his eye you know so well appears with his next words. “Can I pick you up?”

“You’ll drop me!” You retort, scoffing.

“Aw, c’mon! No I won’t,” he pouts. “Don’t you trust me?”

“Do I?”

“Yes, you do.”

Strong arms envelop your form as he lifts you into the air, only to pull you tightly against his torso. Not even the world’s fluffiest blanket can compare to the fleecy warm softness of the plaid shirt and sweater vest he’s wearing.

The enamored smile on Chenle’s face is the kind that would have made you weak in the knees if you were standing. Forgetting that you’re no longer shielded from the world by the carriage’s privacy, he presses your foreheads together and cutely nuzzles your nose with his own.

Framing his sharp jawline with both of your hands, you lean in to share a second kiss with the boy you wish you had gotten to know sooner. It’s no use wondering about what could have been, however, so for now you decide to focus on only this moment, only these lips, only Chenle. The way he smiles into the kiss has you reeling with affection.

Not even the distant cheers that just barely reach your eardrums can tear you away from each other.

When you feel as though the kiss has conveyed all you want and need to say to one another, Chenle begins to mumble against your lips. In a voice low enough for only you to hear, he says, “We’re going to have to face them sooner or later, you know.”

“How about never?” You reply, grumbling.

“Just follow my lead, okay? I’m used to their teasing,” he comforts.

“If you say so...”

Breaking out of the kiss-induced daze, you both look over to where the six boys stand, clapping and pumping their fists in the air in celebration with one another.

One of them, probably Renjun, you can’t quite tell, cups his hands around his mouth in preparation for the shout that leaves it not even a second later.

“It’s about damn time!”

“I told you guys if we just left them alone they’d figure it out themselves!” Mark adds triumphantly.

Apparently more than one kiss is one too many for his friends to see, and enough to make the small group turn away, yelling for you to “get a room” at the top of their lungs. You feel Chenle smirk against your lips at their repulsed reactions.

“Serves them right.”

You agree.

You’ve never had someone to spend Halloween night with before, and boy does this stress Chenle out to no end. He wants everything to be perfect, wants to do everything that a couple should do on such a holiday. “It’s really not a big deal, Chenle,” you insist sympathetically as he paces your living room floor, currently obsessing over what costumes you should wear.

“But... it’s you, and you’re a big deal. A big deal to me. I just want to make you happy.”

“Nothing could make me happier than being able to call you mine,” you proclaim proudly, enjoying the way his face practically turns into a tomato when what you’ve just said registers in his brain. “Stop it,” he stutters, lowering his head to stare at the carpet under his feet. You just giggle.

The excitement of the night is unlike any other. Your neighborhood’s streets are full of mostly children, but some adults and grandparents too, all taking part in the festivities. Going from doorstep to doorstep, you chant the famous three-word phrase at each house, assuring anyone who answers the door that you’re never too old to trick or treat if they ask. You get lots of compliments on your matching costumes: Chenle’s dressed as Sully and you’re Mike Wazowski from Monsters Inc. The soft fur on his outfit makes it extremely difficult for you to hold yourself back from hugging him any chance you get.

With your bags full of enough candy to last you two months at least, you return home for the night, this time crashing at his place. Despite the fact that it’s already getting late, both of you quickly change into some more comfortable clothes before settling in on his couch for a Halloween movie marathon.

“How about...” Chenle scrolls through the large selection of films on the screen. “The Nightmare Before Christmas?”

“No!” You cry out abruptly, lightly pounding against his chest with one of your fists before returning it to its original position around his waist.

Looking down at you, currently curled up in his lap with your other arm thrown rather lazily over his sturdy shoulders and your side pressing into his torso, he asks, “Why not?”

In a small voice, you respond. “It... gave me nightmares when I was little.”

“Really? A Disney movie?”

“Yes, now can we please stop talking about it and pick something else?”

“Aw, are you scared?”

“Shut up!” You whine shyly, burying your face as far as it would go into the thin fabric of his loose white t-shirt.

“Hey,” he hushes you, “I’m not making fun of you, baby. It’s okay... I’ve got you.”

Chenle swears he feels the warmth of your blush against his shoulder, generated by his unusual use of that particular term of endearment.

He runs a reassuring palm along one of your arms down to your hand. Effortlessly he winds each of his fingers around yours, like piecing together the most delicate of puzzles, and you remember how this action would have flustered both of you beyond belief mere weeks before. It’s become so simple, so instinctive a movement, saying everything you need to know without even the slightest whisper of a word in the air.

Rubbing small circles into the skin on the back of your neck with his other hand, he holds you close, the harsh light from the television illuminating your form as it clings to his.

You eventually decide on an actual horror movie that leaves you muffling your shrieks with a pillow, but Chenle just laughs with a pitch so high that it reminds you of a certain marine mammal. You scold him by giving his shoulder a whack. “Shh, Chenle! You’re going to wake the whole neighborhood up!”

“Hey, you were screaming too!”

“That’s not screaming, that’s called laughing, you dummy.”

Hours later, Chenle’s arm hangs limply down into the large bowl of treats you’ve been sharing. The soft snores next to your ear tell you that he’s fallen asleep. His family finds you two knocked out cold the next morning, covered in fuzzy blankets and colorful candy wrappers strewn about the sofa.

Indeed, this would be a Halloween to remember, and you hope to spend many more together in the future. With Chenle in your arms right now, there’s no place in this world that you would rather be. And it’s all thanks to a flimsy piece of paper on a lamp post.

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atomicblasphemy · 3 years ago

Text

Eda becomes some kind of flying taxi service

Amity: So I told Malphas he needed to have a talk with Gary about our coffee break space.

Emira: Mhmm.

Amity: I mean, for one, Gary never cleans after himself. Like, I once saw him leaving his mug dirty for over a week. A WEEK. It was disgusting. It was just sitting dare on the table for days. I didn’t want to clean it, I’m not a doormate. But it was dire and I had no choice. And don’t get me started on the fridge situation. My lunch has been getting smaller by the day and I can’t seem to figure out the culprit.

Emira: That’s nice, Mittens. Isn’t it nice, Edric?

Edric: What?

Amity: Will you guys pay attention? I need some advice on...

*Windows cracking”

Edric: What the...

Hooty: AMITY FELICITY BLIGHT! IT IS I, HOOTCIFER, HARBINGER OF THY DESTINY. COME WITH ME AND I SHALL REVEAL WHAT JOYS THE FUTURE HOLDS FOR THEE.

Amity: I... What?

Hooty: DOTH THOU DARE DEFY FATE? *Swallows Amity*

Emira: ... What just happened? Wasn’t that Eda’s house demon? You know, the one we met before Grom?

Edric: I think it was. I’m not sure though, he sounded more... ominous...

SEVERAL EMOTIONAL MOMENTS LATER

Luz: It’s early... Do you really have to go already?

Amity: Yeah... I still have to finish homework, and I have work tomorrow. But I’ll come back here tomorrow... If you’re okay with it, that is...

Luz: YES! I mean... yeah, I’d love that...

Amity: Anyway... I guess I should get going, we’re not exactly neighbors after all. See you tomorrow then.

Luz: Wait, I have an idea. *Turns around* EDA!

Eda: *Not stopping her flight practice* What?

Luz: Do you think you could give Amity a lift back to her place?

Eda: Oh? Not walking your girlfriend home? Thought you’d be more chivalrous.

Luz: *Showing that Amity’s tomato like properties are infectious* EDAAA!

Eda: Sorry, sorry. But yeah, sure. *Picks up Amity and flies away at neckbreaking speeds. She soon slows down to a more reasonable pace* So... Amity, before I give you that whole “What are your intentions?” scare there’s something I’ve been itching to ask you. What made you chose to dye your hair of all colors, and how did Odd-alia react?

Amity: Luz... Me... Girlfriend...

Eda: Ugh... Don’t make me regret making harmless fun of young love, kiddo.

ONE AWKWARD TAXI EDA FLYING SESSION LATER.

Eda: *Placing Amity on the Blight Manor’s front porch and looking at the two bewildered faces watching her* Sup. *Turns to fly away* Oh right, I guess purple here is in not in the mental state to give any explanations.

Amity: Small ceremony... Human realm... Only friends and family... Boscha is not invited...

Emira: Are you... Edalyn Clawthorne?

Eda: Last I checked I was.

Emira: You look different.

Eda: Oh right... Look, it was a very eventful night so let me start with the simpler one. King, you remember him, right? Tiny, angry, looks like a cat, was the MC at the last Grom along with Goops.

Emira and Edirc: Yeah...?

Eda: He’s harnessing all the powers of yelling. I guess all children his age kinda do that but he went above and beyond and actually learned how to make things go boom with his voice alone, and that’s why both Luz and your sister are still alive. And now I’m realizing I should probably go hide all those Death Metal records I got in human realm. Can’t risk turning my son into a weapon of mass destruction. Not yet.

Edric: That’s... nice... I guess?

Emira: How about Mittens?

Eda: Right. She and Luz are an item now. It was adorable, I called her Luz’s girlfriend then I think it finally really hit her and that made her go all catatonic on me. Sorry about that.

Edric: WHAT?

Emira: Okay, okay... So came out with it? Ed and I have some scores to settle.

Eda: I... Both, I guess? I don’t know, it was sort of at the same time. But I don’t want to spoil it for when she recovers. So I guess us three are kinda family now, huh? Tangentially at least, like you’re my nephew and niece-in-law or something like that, I don’t know.

Eda: The important thing is: there’s a huge waterway under my house and I think it is actually part of my property. Now I need to figure out a way to find out how big that place actually is without letting town hall know so my taxes won’t go up. Can’t push my tax evasion skills. I mean, can you imagine it? The Owl Lady, the most successful outlaw in Boiling Isles history: arrested for fiscal crimes.

Emira: Okay... That’s... cool.

Edric: Yeah... Not to pry though, but what happened to you?

Eda: Oh... Me? I got very high. Not on purpose. Then I became a Harpy. Also not on purpose.

Emira: ... I’m sorry but I’m not following the cause and effect relation between those thing.

Eda: Neither am I. All I remember is: Hooty spiked some cookies; I revisited that time I gauged out my dad’s eye, also not on purpose; then when I push my ex away (You know, Raine Whispers, current head of the Bard Coven, lead a small revolutionary guerrilla, now under mind control. Oh, yeah, guess they’d make to sure to keep it under wraps, anyway...)

Eda: Then it got pretty weird. I got trapped by this tall hooded sun and moon figure and I’m not sure whether that was an actual memory (I did get arrested a few time after all) or if it was just a hallucinogenics induced manifestation of the subconscious trauma of being persecuted for years by the state. Anyone’s guess to which was it.

Eda: And then I became Icarus, fell into the sea, and became a piece of paper. Then I was at the beach, the piece of paper was also there, but that’s not important... I hope... Anyway, so, my curse was there too an for a moment there I thought we were gonna play some chess, but nah.

Eda: I did have an epiphany though. The sky changed colors and now I’m a Harpy. Gotta a lot of stuff to process right.

Edric: *Wide eyed and mouth agape* Mother of Titan...

Emira: *Same as her brother* Do you... need a hug or something?

Eda: Ehh... Don’t worry, I’ll get through. I mean, I’m a badass Harpy woman now, what else could I want? I appreciate the thought though. Anyway, I’ll get going, Luz has probably been stuck in the same place ever since I left. Was nice seeing you guys. *Turns around*

Edric: WAIT, EDA.

Eda: Yeah? What is it?

Edric: Can you take me flying a little bit like you did Mittens? Pretty please?

Emira: *Elbowing her brother* EDRIC!

Edric: What? There’s a tall and friendly winged lady standing in our front porch and calling us family...

Eda: Kinda family.

Edric: Kinda family. And we only went flying, on dad’s staff mind you, like twice. And I mean, look at her. That’s clearly a person with next to no regard for speed limits or any form of flying safety. *Turns to Eda* I mean that as the highest of compliments, by the way.

Eda: *Nodding and smiling* Well, I’m not one to brag... But you’re on point there.

Edric: *Turning back to Emira* See? It will be fun. *Turns back to Eda while making puppy eyes* So, pretty pretty please?

Eda: Eh... What the heck, why not? I do need to get a better hold of this flying thing after all. Fair warning though, I only had these for about an hour, I’m not taking responsibility for any loss of limb or life. *Picks Edric up and place him on one of her shoulders and turns to Emira.* You sure you don’t wanna come with? There’s plenty of room.

Emira: ... I never said I didn’t want to...

Eda: *Placing Emira on her other shoulder* Alritty then, make sure to hold on tight to my hair, just don’t fall into it. Can’t promise I’ll find you if you do. And up we go. *Takes off at neckbreaking speed*

Eda: So... I tried that to Mittens herself, but she was too lost in elation to form coherent sentences. What’s the deal with her hair color change? Why did she pick that specific shade of... pink? Lavender? Purple? Whatever, I was a tad curious about that choice coming from one of Odd-alia’s offspring. So either of you can shed some light on it for me?

Emira: Eh, what can I say? Our little Mittens is growing up, coming out of her shell. I mean, if you told me a month that she’d have a girlfriend by now I’d call it bullshit. Though I would have guessed Luz as being the most likely candidate. In any case, I’m pretty proud of the steps our baby sister is taking, not gonna lie.

Edric: Yeah... Same. But I can’t shake the feeling that it is at least in part an act of rebellion against mom. She did always have that weird fixation with Amity’s hair after all...

Eda: Hum, I see. This actually takes me to my follow up question. How did your mom react when she saw it?

Edric: *chuckling* Oh, I thought she’d have a stroke right then and there.

Emira: Yup. Never saw mom that mad. You’d think the two of us would be the ones to cause it but nope, Mittens beat us to it. Again, I’m a proud big sister.

Eda: Hehehe Sounds about right. You two are the troublemaking type then huh?

Edric: That’s a way of putting.

Emira: We like thinking of ourselves as practical entertainers however. We are in the Illusions track so it comes with the territory. Buuut...

Edric: We indulge in some prankery every now and then, and there’s no one better at it than us.

Eda: Is that so? Ever get in trouble for it?

Edric: Sometimes... When we (kind of accidentally) cause more property damage than intended because SOMEONE botched their end of the spell and caused Bump’s office to almost go up in flames.

Emira: Awww. Ed, I told you already. Don’t beat yourself over it. Accidents happen. You’ll do better next time.

Edric: HEY!

Emira: Anyway, Eda. Why were you asking about Mittens’ hair?

Eda: Oh... You guys are going to love this. I think. Anyway, did you know that me and your parents attended Hexside at the same time?

Edric: Yeah, I remember mom seeing one of your wanted posters a while back and calling you “Ewdalyn Clownthorne” or something like that.

Eda: Ah, haven’t heard that in a minute, Titan those were the day. Anyway, as you might have guessed by now me and your mother we... had a bit of a rivalry. Unfortunately, I couldn’t top the nickname she gave me, best I could do was Odd-alia. No offense, but Blight doesn’t give much to work with in terms of puns, can’t get funnier than that. Especially when thrown at her.

Emira: None taken. And yeah. I mean, it is fun when people call us stuff like “The Blights of Hexside”. But it is kinda sad to know we’ll never get a nickname as cool as Owl Lady or Lord Calamity.

Eda: Oh, my fame still precedes me huh? You know, I think the three of us will get along just fine.

Edric and Emira: Yup, we sure will.

Eda: Anyway, flattery aside... Part of the reason why I love poking your mom with a short stick was, other than how aggravated she’d get and how surprisingly good at paying in kind she was, the fact that she was in the Oracle track. You see, that made her a challenge. And given how she would actually prank me back (successfully, mind you, I have no shame in admitting that) I feel like like we actually a weird sort of friends, or at least we reached some kind of agreement that we were fair game for each other. And trust me, she was ruthless, and very good at escalating things.

Emira: Wow...

Edric: That sounds nothing like the mom we know. Other than the ruthless or the escalation part, that is still true.

Eda: Yeah, anyway. Part of our little game was keeping it hidden. Neither your dad or my sister actually ever realized what was going on until... well, I’ll get to that.

Eda: Anyway, so some lovely day I notice how weirdly obsessed with her hair Odd-alia was. This gives me some ideas, but I know I have make this the mother of pranks, so I decided to just keep a watch, to figure out what the best way to go about it would be. And I was also making those smaller pranks, something to throw her Oracle powers off-balance, you know?

Eda: Well... Back in the day your mother wasn’t monochromatic as she is nowadays. She’d circle through all colors you can think off on her accessories (which she used an ungodly amount, and no judgement it just never seems physically possible). But I noticed that there was one very specific color that she never got anywhere near her.

Edric and Emira: No way...

Eda: And as I said, she was weirdly obsessed with her hair... And as top student of the Potions track making hair dye was child’s play for me... So... do the math... And guess what very specific color was? I may be bad at color names, but I won’t ever, EVER, forget that particular shade.

Edric and Emira: No... freaking... way...

Eda: Yes... freaking... way... I mean, seriously, the first time I saw Amity’s new hair I had to do a double take. The resemblance was just too uncanny.

Emira: And what did she do?

Eda: Well... For a couple weeks there I thought I’d have to place a restriction order on her or something like that. Ultimately the two of us, along with Lilith and Alador (they were our attorneys, no they were not qualified for the role.) sitting across from each other in a very formal looking table, signing a contract. An actual freaking contract setting clear limits to our mutual pranks, like what was off limits like her hair or my then partner, how long was the maximum period a prank could last, so on. Surprisingly enough that was Al’s idea.

Eda: And let me tell you, that was probably the toughest negotiation I ever been a part of. Shame it was not long before I dropped out so never could really put it to use. You know, sometime I think this actually made Odd-alia realize she wanted to be a business woman. I mean, before that she’d go off about how she’d join the Emperor’s Coven all the damn time.

Edric: Wow...

Emira: I second that. Really, wish I had brought something I could take notes on. You completely blown anything we ever did out of the water.

Edric: No wonder she never told us that. You know what? I think I’m dying my hair that color first thing tomorrow.

Emira: Can we tell Amity this story?

Eda: Are you two actually thinking of antagonizing her? Are you crazy? First off, she’s your mother, she holds power over you. All you’d accomplish is getting grounded. Not to mention that she has decades of experience on you, even if she wasn’t your mom, she’d demolish the two of you. No offense, you’re still young, naive, you lack guidance in the ways of the pranksters.

Edric and Emira: *Dejectedly* Ohh... You’re right...

Eda: Hey... Don’t look so gloomy. I see a lot of potential in you, in both of you. *Sighs* I can’t believe I’m gonna take more kids under my wing... But.... Have you guys ever heard of the Bad Girl Coven Initiative? We annoy our foes into submission.

Edric and Emira: WE’RE LISTENING.

Eda: Heh... We’ll get along just fine indeed.

#THE OWL HOUSE #the owl house hooty #Edric Blight #Emira Blight #amity blight #luz noceda #king clawthorne #the owl house boscha #raine whispers #I lost track of what was trying to accomplish halfway though writing this. read at your own discretion.

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rpmemesbyarat · 4 years ago

Conversation

DISNEY'S "GARGOYLES" SEASON 2 QUOTES RP MEME

Why do you read that stuff?

I like a man who brings me weapons.

Nice wake up call.

We won't have to find them. They'll find us.

Revenge, as they say, is a sucker's game.

I'll settle for tearing this jerk IN HALF!

Want to see me use both hands?

That's no way to treat a lady!

That was no lady.

Thanks for saving my bacon before it got fried.

Look, just promise you'll call if there's trouble.

Go ahead, try something!

I'd love to do that again!

That wasn't a tranquilizer dart.

It was loaded with a mutagenic formula!

You don't know anything about her!

Why are you stomping on my friend here?

I was particularly proud of my death scene.

You never let me drive.

The important thing is, you're alive.

Are you sure this is a good idea?

Something's not right here.

Then you leave us no choice!

How are we supposed to find them?

Please, I beg you, be quiet.

This isn't a good idea.

I'm best qualified to go.

My memories are clouded.

Why should I trust you?

If you can't trust me, then trust your heart.

Why do you fight me, my love?

We are destined to be together for all eternity.

I will choose who I love!

Now we'll see what this creature looks like up close.

Why stare at marks on a page when you can rent the video?

Well, I can't read and I don't think I'm missing anything.

Harrier jets! They can take off and land like helicopters. When your life's this exciting, who needs books?

Are you all right?

I had a little trouble.

This beach isn't safe after dark.

Do you need a doctor?

Come on in. I've got a fire going.

There's little I can offer in return, except my thanks.

You understand, I don't get any real pleasure from this. Well you've got courage, beastie. I'll give you that.

Funny, something about your voice made me think you were a soldier, once.

You were there.

I'm old, but I'm not that old.

I'm glad you came back.

I'm afraid I can't stay, but I think I left something on the terrace this morning.

Have you come across a large canister?

The name sounded phony.

I do know him, but he's not a friend!

A magic book?

They're worthless. No magic at all.

The written word is all that stands between memory and oblivion.

Without books as our anchors, we are cast adrift, neither teaching nor learning.

Books are lighthouses erected in the dark sea of time.

Is this how you welcome all your guests?

They have a sense of humor. You have none.

Yeah, I know, you're as relieved I am that everything's back to normal.

Wouldn't it be great to be a shapeshifter?

Well, let's just get this over with, shall we?

How can I be of service, hmm?

Out with it. I haven't got all night.

I'm sure you'll fit right in.

What is it you really want?

This just might be fun after all.

I thought everyone knew this.

Shapeshifters, elves, fairies, you mean they're real?

You mean, you thought I was ugly?

I want you to get rid of the humans. ALL of them.

Does this look like Aladdin's lamp? I have limits, after all.

Humans love a battle hearty.

I'll never get the hang of jumping off rooftops.

I'll always be there to catch you.

Do it, and you win your freedom.

It will be my pleasure. But afterwards, I'm going to need a very long nap.

There. You're free.

The sun, it's glorious! I never thought that it could feel so good.

I'm sorry about the bomb. But it proves how dangerous this case is.

When someone messes with your partner, you're supposed to do something about it.

You still haven't learned that crime doesn't pay.

A trade?

Let's just say, I don't trust you with it.

So, now you know my weakness.

Only you would regard love as a weakness.

A momentary lapse, I assure you.

Halloween! Tonight is the night!

Come on. I've wanted to stroll down a city street with you for a long time.

Marry me.

Are you serious?

We're genetically compatible, highly intelligent, and have the same goals.

You could've been hurt. I should've been with you.

Oh-well, spilt milk. Let's move on to plan B.

Don't listen to him. It's a trick! He couldn't tell the truth if his life depended on it!

Even if what you say is true, why should I help her?

Because you know what it means to lose some you love.

Not a good night for you.

You can't believe anything he says.

If someone like him can love, perhaps there is some hope for this world.

Take this as token of my love.

Upon this I pledge my heart to you forever.

Why do you need all this?

I wanted it, so I took it.

It's so unlike you to attack first.

I simply invited you here to talk.

Our past encounters have not inspired me to trust you.

It's crazy to even consider going!

I'm not interested in reminiscing!

Have you no respect for anything?

Believe me, I know exactly how you feel.

I will never be like you!

I do not wish to hurt you.

I do not wish to be you!

What am I to do?

Do nothing.

Do not worry.

Live in the moment.

Attend the petty angers and jealousies that fill your heart.

Fortify yourself with love and trust.

Fulfill the vows of love you make, for they can surely save you.

Time travel's funny that way.

Get away from me, you sentimental fool.

It's a pretty good likeness.

You know more than you're letting on.

T'was your handiwork.

very life is precious.

Take care not to become what you fight against.

Vengeance begets only a further cycle of more vengeance.

Do you want vengeance or a solution?

This is bigger than either of us has ever faced.

We'll have to work together to stop her.

Truce?

You are the cause of all this.

Humans will learn to respect you.

I would rather they fear me.

What are you doing to help?

That's one way to settle an argument.

I thought I'd rid myself of you long ago

You've forgotten about me.

You're too late. You can't save them. No one can!

I'm not here for them. I'm here for you.

I want it over between us!

I wear this as a reminder of your treachery.

Let's not start that again. You blame me, I blame you. Aren't you tired of talking about it?

I'm not here to talk.

Killing me will gain you nothing but your own death.

Death is never the answer. Life is.

I'm just so tired

Your thirst for vengeance has only created more sorrow.

I offer you one last opportunity for forgiveness and mercy.

I merely offer a sample of what you planned for me.

You have learned nothing.

I will still have my revenge!

What do we do with them?

You come in handy now and then.

I'm quite glad the plan worked.

I'm no hero, I just do my job, and my job for tonight is over.

All I want to do is hit the sack.

Why would you want to hit a sack?

How long was I out?

Even shadows must be true to their shade.

We don't need to wait for sunset.

Is it supposed to hurt that much?

Just get on with it.

Recognize the woman?

She seemed familiar, but I just couldn't place her.

You're getting real good at bypassing alarms

Don't give me credit.

It was too easy!

Maybe misery loves company.

If you're human, then you're subject to human laws.

Either way I win!

I fear no human!

There are forces at war within me.

I will return some day, if I can.

You sound like every human employee I ever fired!

Crush all of them together and you couldn't squeeze one iota of personal integrity from the lot!

No excuses, creature!

Learn to take responsibility for your own actions! And STOP whining!

Oh, I am trembling in my chair.

You believe I am not responsible. Yet I remain your prisoner?

Who said you're not responsible?

It doesn't matter that you were tricked, you know now that your actions inflicted grievous damage. Do you take responsibility for them or not?

Well, what are you going to do?

You seem distracted, having second thoughts?

We'll celebrate over breakfast.

No more excuses. I accept full responsibility for my actions. I was wrong.

Integrity is never easy. It's a daily struggle, a costly struggle.

I know I owe you a great debt for the mistake I made a year ago.

If the text wasn't new to me, it was at least worth revisiting.

All I know is I'm about to be wiped out!

It doesn't have to be that way.

I can break these chains. But only you can get me past the bars.

Automatons know nothing of betrayal or honor. They know only what they're programmed to know.

Only living beings possess the ability to change, and make new choices.

You've given me much to consider.

We are friends.

I'd rather not have your death on my conscience

You'll never reach the bridge!

You have two minutes until impact, one minute before I detonate.

I don't want any innocents hurt!

If it goes down, I'm going down with it.

I knew you wouldn't let me down.

Yes, well, you have that effect on people.

I built this company for you!

I'd probably give it to you, if you'd just stand up and ask me for it honestly!

Asking for it wouldn't be any fun at all.

'Fun' is still more important to you than honor. I can't understand that.

Well, maybe you'll have better luck relating to the next generation.

You should've heard him laugh.

Made my hair stand on end, if I had any.

Surely you know I am not in the habit of playing childish pranks or laughing maniacally in the dark.

Do you even know how to laugh maniacally?

Don't tempt me.

Typical. You do and do and do for them, and what happens? They twist the knife in you!

I think I've created a monster.

Have you ever considered the bounties of genetic engineering?

Or maybe cybernetics is more your style?

Save the horror show for Halloween.

I'm sure tired of taking punishment, and I'd love to be able to give some back

That's the source of the trouble.

I hope you not planning to eat your catch.

Now that I'm in charge, I'm not taking any more of your cracks!

You're barely our species!

I'm in charge, here!

I find him very attractive.

Well, that's sicker than usual.

I'm a partner in a freak show!

I should'a figured it was crazy to stick with this crew

And if you play it smart, there'll be plenty of lettuce for everyone!

I should get my own cable TV show.

Oh, me and my big mouth.

It is the cure! It has to be!

Of course it's the cure! You must trust me!

It was you all along! I trusted you!

You turned me into a monster and I defended you!

I'm sorry it had to turn out this way.

You always overplay your hand

Tell me something' Why me?

You're old, and getting older.

I thought you might even appreciate the opportunity.

Growing old terrifies you, doesn't it?

Nothing terrifies me, because nothing is beyond my ability to change.

True immortality isn't about living forever, man; it's about what you do with the time you have.

When all your scheming's done, what will be your legacy

You're still alive! It's a miracle!

Boy, the city sure is different when it snows.

Not a bad life, all things considered.

There is a cure. There must be!

You can't keep me in here forever!

I'll get out! Do you hear? I'll get out!

About time you came back.

Why did you kidnap me? What do you want of me?

See, it wasn't as hard as you made it sound.

Ah, you wish to be immortal.

If the procedure is successful, I'll release you.

This is just a sculpture's model. The real thing is life sized, and lifelike.

What's in this for you?

Service is its own reward.

I wouldn't even know where to start looking.

You may as well be of some use to me.

Open this cage, and I'll show you how 'useless' I am.

It's hard to top that.

What you seek demands a heavy price.

Death and old age have their price as well. And it's too expensive for me.

Without your sword, you're helpless.

Swordless? Maybe. Helpless? NEVER!

What you choose to do with your life is your own affair, as long as it's got nothing to do with me.

You're just full of surprises.

No, let him go. He's earned it.

I wish it hadn't turned out this way.

I was so close to finding out if the legend was true. Now there's no one to test it on.

Throw down your weapon!

Is this a whole city of fools and lawless ruffians?

I'm the law here, pal!

You are a guardian, like myself.

I will submit to your law.

You are learning.

It will take some time.

Prepare to do battle!

I have no fight with you.

What is this, merit badge test night?

Oh well, better make sure it's an uneven fight.

The weak are to be protected, not exploited.

Aaah, who died and made you king?

If you don't know anything, why were you shooting at us?

Do I really need an excuse to have a good time in my own home?

They say a man's home is his castle, and what fun would a castle be without a dungeon?

If it gets any more saccharine in there, I'm going to put a finger down my throat.

I'd sure like to know how you got here, but I'm programmed to shoot first and ask questions later.

I demand a favor.

Death is always pointless. That is the point.

I demand reparation! My son was cruelly and unfairly taken from me!

Death is the ultimate fairness. Rich and poor, young and old - all are equal in death.

Our planet cannot support so many lives at once.

I apologize for any trouble I caused in my efforts to reclaim it.

It seems I'm out of practice dealing directly with mortals.

It seems I am unaccustomed to dealing with a god

We have all gained rare enlightenment this night

Mmmm, what a peculiar sight.

Now, that's odd.

Do you often go wandering about at night, young lady?

My dear, are you saying you don't remember your own name?

I can't seem to remember anything. I feel lucky I know how to talk.

How did I end up in the middle of the Pacific?

I guess I could use a ride

I thought you looked familiar. We've met before.

Do you know what a scroll is?

Get your claws off me!

You might want to reconsider your request.

We're gonna die!

I will not let anything harm you.

You win. I'll behave.

I cannot believe you pulled the trigger on me.

Just shut up and land.

I just don't remember! I'm not even sure I want to remember!

I understand your words, I simply do not believe them.

You have been long expected.

This trough is filled with acid. In about ten minutes its going to do a very nasty job on that soil carving, not to mention your rugged good looks.

It's my first real stab at clichéd villainy. How am I doing?

How are you doing this? No machine can hold me!

I should sue you for trademark infringement.

I've always considered myself a trickster at heart.

History cannot be changed.

You will not win!

What are you going to do? Bite my kneecaps off?

I know from experience the transforming power of a child's love.

The future is not written yet.

I have a sunny disposition and I'm always kind to animals

I've always respected you as a fellow inmate

He's a fool, but he may be useful.

I can work with that!

Now, now! That's your friends' genetic make-up you're insulting.

You are master now?

I should've known. But why this subterfuge?

Hey, I live for subterfuge!

I do not want escape, I want vengeance!

There's no such thing as "a little" vengeance.

No catches. No tricks. No strings.

So, things have come full circle.

You know how I feel about you, right?

#rp meme #rp memes #rp starters #roleplay memes #roleplay meme #roleplay starters #disney's gargoyles #gargoyles

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write-orflight · 4 years ago

Text

Songs to Play While Hunting a Killer: Chapter One

*Gif not mine*

Prev -> Next

Pairings: HotchxReader, Enemies to lovers

Rating: M

Words: 2.5K

Warnings: None right now, eventually will be smut

Request: OPEN/CLOSED

Summary: Y/N is a Bounty Hunter who always runs. Aaron is the Agent that stays behind, it was no mystery why they didn’t get along. When the two are called to revisit an old case together it’s no wonder old feelings revisit too.

AN: I’m taking some liberties with the reaper storyline but still keeping the basic crux of it. So please don’t attack me that it’s not exactly like the episodes I’m trying to fit it around the story. Message to be added to taglist! much love, Cia.

Chapter 1: Killer Queen by Queen

You stopped at the motel first to check out and change. Opting for a black cropped t-shirt, skinny black jeans and as always your leather jacket. You put your bags in your car and head to the FBI headquarters. Queen blaring in your stereo and suddenly remembering why you hated driving in the city. You parked in the parking garage and put the top on Lou, figuring you’d be separated for a while. As you say your goodbyes, you hear a low whistle behind you.

“Is that an 85 Miata?” The older gentleman asks.

You smile. “Close, 1990. How are you doing, Rossi?”

The man looked confused for a second before the realization took hold. “Y/N?” You nod and the man is sweeping you in a hug. “Look at you, bella, you’ve grown. And changed styles apparently.”

“Yea, that tends to happen over a decade, Rossi.” You laugh, following the man into the building. “What are you doing here though? Last I heard you were retired and rich?”

“Still rich, just not retired.” The man laughs. “What’re you doing here though? Last I checked your dad is actually retired.”

“Actually, Hotchner invited me to consult on a case.” You say. Rossi looks at you incredulously.

“Hotch? Willingly asked for your help?��

“Well, it was like pulling teeth but thankfully he’s not an idiot.”

“What happened with you kids anyway? You were inseparable back in the day.”

You frown. You didn’t like to think about that time in your life. “People change.”

“I’ll say, look at you kid. All leather and classic cars now.” He laughs, you laugh with him as he directs you into the BAU.

The two of you are immediately greeted by a brightly dressed blonde woman. “Hey Rossi!” She says to the man.

“Garcia.” He greets, gesturing to you. “This is--”

“Y/N Y/L/N.” She says, extending a hand for you to shake. “Hotch had me look into you, you are completely bad-ass! I read about how you went after that team of bank robbers last month that ended in a car chase. You’re like super cool, I’m Penelope.”

“Thank you, Penelope. Hotch made you look into me?”

“Oh yea, I’m the Tech Analyst for the BAU.”

“I assumed so, and he made you do a background check on me?” You ask, trying not to sound angry. It wasn’t her fault, but your tone betrayed you.

She looks at you awkwardly. “Umm, yea… Sorry?”

“Not your fault, excuse me.” You nod to the two people. Rossi tries to stop you but you dodge the hand going to your wrist and stalk up the stairs to your dad’s old office that was now Hotch’s. You slam the door closed and he looks up from files on his desk and levels you with an angry expression.

“What do you think you’re doing?” He says.

“You had a background check run on me?” You ask angrily. “When I’m already an approved consultant.”

“Of course I did, I needed to know what kind of person I’m sending out there with my team.”

“Which is why you read my file which already has my background check in it! Not to mention, you already fucking know me, Hotch.” You say, seething. “Don’t look into my life without my permission again.”

The two of you didn’t notice the team watching you from the bullpen below.

“Do you guys know who she is?” Reid says, looking to the group.

Emily shakes her head. “No, but judging by how they’re yelling at each other, Hotch definitely knows her.”

Penelope walks up to the group. “That’s Y/N Y/L/N. She and Hotch went to Academy together and she’s helping us with our next case. Which is what I came to tell you, we should head to the conference room now.”

The team is waiting in the conference room for 5 minutes before you and Hotch walk in. You’re still kinda pissed but you knew better than to make other people shoulder your bad mood, especially strangers.

“This is Ms. Y/N Y/L/N, she’ll be consulting with us this case-”

“Doctor.” You say. Hotch looks at you confused. “I went back to school after I quit the FBI.” You explain. “So it’s Dr. Y/N Y/L/N.”

“I didn’t know that.” He says.

“What? It didn’t come up in your unnecessary background check?” You say, the team including Hotch give a small grimace. You decide to ignore that and sit. “Shall we get started?”

A blonde woman cleared her throat. “Yea, we’re going to Boston, a couple was found dead in their car, the boyfriend was shot once in the head, and the girl was stabbed multiple times. We’re investigating to see if it was the Boston Reaper.”

A light skinned man speaks up at that point. “The Reaper is back? He hasn’t killed in a decade, how are we sure it’s not a copycat?”

“It’s him.” You speak up. The group looks at you, but you keep your eyes trained on the crime scene photos. “Is there any record of the male victim wearing glasses?”

You watch the woman who introduced herself as Garcia earlier type on a laptop for a minute before speaking up. “There’s no record of it, why?”

You push the photo towards Hotch so he could see what you were seeing. “It’s Foyet’s.”

He looks at it and nods. “Wheels up in 30.”

You pale for a second. “Up?”

“Yea, we have a jet now, Bella.” Rossi says, patting you on the back. You swallow roughly.

God, you hated flying.

—————————————————-

You really hated flying.

The team seemed pretty calm, expected since they fly so much but there was a reason why you liked driving Lou everywhere. Flying was… not your style.

“Fear of flying?” You look up to see the lanky kid from earlier looking at you.

“Fear of crashing.” You nod back.

“You know, turbulence hardly results in crashes. What you really have to worry about is microburst. The sudden down-pressure of air hitting a craft like this will capsize it.” He says smiling, you look at him in horror, knowing he was just trying to comfort you but accidentally did the opposite.

“You’re Dr. Reid, right? Gideon’s prodigy?”

“You knew Gideon?”

“I know Gideon. He was an agent on my dad’s team for years. I just had lunch with him about 2 months ago.”

“Months?” He says, confused. “I haven’t heard from him in years and you saw him months ago?!”

“Relax, it was purely by chance. I ran into him while working a bounty in Albuquerque and we decided we might as well eat lunch together while we were in the same place.” You shrugged. “He talked about you a lot though. Still keeps track of the work you’re doing, said he was proud.”

“Well, if he really was I’d hear it from him.”

“I know. Trust me I’ve called him an idiot multiple times for leaving the way he did but…. this life isn’t for everyone, it certainly wasn’t for me. It takes a toll and eventually something's gotta give.”

“Let’s go over the case, please.” You hear Hotch call out. You both instantly turn your attention to the man. You can’t help the nervous feeling in your stomach, it’s been a while since you worked an actual case that wasn’t already solved. You didn’t want to fuck this up. You watched Aaron and his team go over the details of the case, now with the information that you provided them earlier. You watched as his team regarded him with respect and the authoritative air he had about him now. Hotch had always been a serious person, you not so much. Back in the academy days you used to balance each other out. Now, all you did was clash.

“Do you have anything to add, Y/N?” Hotch asked. The team immediately turns to look at you.

You smirk. “If I had something to say I’d say it, Hottie.”

“Hottie?” The light skinned man from earlier questions, smirking at Hotch as well. Hotch ignores him leveling you with a serious look.

“I’ve already told you it’s Hotch or Hotchner now, Y/N.”

“Hotch.” You say, testing the word out on your tongue. You grimace. “Doesn’t have the same ring to it. I think I’m going to stick with Hottie, if you don’t mind.”

“I do.” He says, blankly.

“Well then, I guess it's good we have bigger things to worry about right now.” You say. He looks you in your eye, you look right back. You’ve never been scared of Aaron, you weren’t going to start now. The team was now watching the exchange intensely, you imagine that no one had really stood up to Hotchner before.

“Fine.” he says after a while. “Reid, JJ you guys head to the Field office. Morgan, Prentiss and Rossi head to the crime scene. And you.” he says, looking you back in the eye, you smirk. “You’re with me, you’re going to help us find George Foyet since he has no last known address. Show me how good you actually are at bounty hunting.”

“Oh, I’m more than good, Hottie.” You wink. Aaron rolls his eyes.

You sigh. Just like old times.

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

When you exit the plane, the FBI issued SUVs are already waiting. Before he could notice, you picked the keys out of Hotch’s pockets and slid into the driver's seat, putting your shades on to combat the baking sun. He looks confused for a second before just getting into the passenger seat. You put Queen on the stereo before peeling out. You drive for a while in silence, Hotch clearly watching you.

“What?” you say.

“Is this how you start all your cases? Because you seem to just be driving aimlessly and we don’t have tim--”

“Hottie, relax. I know exactly what I’m doing.”

“Hotchner.”

“Come on, there was a time when you liked me calling you Hottie.”

“Times change.”

You nod. “That’s true.” You say, you knew you and Hotch would never be the same after what happened. “Call your tech girl for me?” You ask.

Hotch nods and calls. You hear a voice on the line. “Talk dirty to me.” it says.

“Hey, it’s Y/N/N.” You say. “Can you tell me where Roy Colson works?”

“I can tell you what he ate for breakfast, honey. One second.” You continue driving listening to the faint clacks of Garcia’s typing. “Employee records say he’s employed at the Boston Examiner now.”

“Exactly what I thought, thanks Garcia.” You park. “We’re here.” You say getting out the car, Hotch falling into step behind you.

“How’d you know? Where Roy was?” He says.

You look at him confused. “Basic investigation skills? I may not have a fancy technical analyst but I do know how google works.”

The two of you walk into the building and are greeted by a woman seated at the front desk. You smile walking up to her. “Hi, Meredith? I think I spoke to you on the phone earlier.”

“Yes, Zoe right?”

Hotch looks at you confused but you just smile and nod. “That’s me.”

“I’ll show you back to Roy’s desk. He must be so excited you guys are visiting.”

“Yea, we’re just stopping in town before the honeymoon, thought we might surprise him for lunch.” If Hotch didn’t look confused before, he sure did now.

“If you head down this hall and to the left, his desk is in the far left corner. Have a fun lunch, Congrats on your marriage.”

“Thank you!” You say smiling, slipping your hand into Hotch’s. “Come on, honey. Let’s go.”

As soon as the receptionist is out of sight, Hotch is pulling his hand back like it was chemically burning him to be attached to you. “Hey! That could hurt a girl's feelings, you know.”

“Zoe?” He asked. “Honeymoon??”

“So I said a tiny white lie to get in. Roy wasn’t answering my calls.” You shrug. “I lie all the time on bounties.”

Hotch stops you from walking, stepping into your space to look you in the eye. “This isn’t a bounty, Y/N. It’s a federal investigation. This is unreasonably irresponsible and if you had been caught in your lie that’s the only thing the defense would need to call a mistrial. A serial murderer would go free because you can’t think for one second.” He’s angry, you’ve seen it before. And you want to get angry right back but for some reason the only that happens is butterflies in your stomach.

So not the time, Y/N… you think to yourself.

“Fine, no more lies. Only honest real investigation from now on. Scouts honor.” You say, saluting the man. He only rolls his eyes before continuing to walk down the hall.

The two of you walk onto the editing floor where you see Roy hunched at a computer desk. He looks up and sees you, eyes widening.

“How’re you doing, Roy?” you say.

“How did you find me?” He asks, you scoff.

“Finding people is literally my job description.” Hotch watches you lean back on his desk, arms folded. “You’ve been ignoring my calls, Roy.”

“I already told you I wasn’t comfortable giving up his location to you.”

“And I told you, it’s not for me it’s for him.” You nod, and Roy turns finally looking at Hotch. “Reaper’s back, which puts George at risk, so I’m going to need an address before Big Boy arrests you for obstruction of justice, ok?” You slide over the stack of post-it notes he had on his desk to him. “Write.”

Roy writes silently before sliding the pad back to you. You rip off the top note and smile. “Thank you. Oh and Roy?” You lean down, so that you’re eye level to him, looking him deep in the eye so he’d know you were serious. “If I see any of what we talked about today in tomorrow’s paper… I’m going to find you, for real. And Aaron won’t be here to protect you that time. Understand?”

The man gulps and nods. You tap him lightly on the cheek with your palm. “Always nice to see you, take care.”

You and Hotch walk out the building together. “Was there not a better way you could’ve done that?” Hotch says.

“That?” You ask. “That was nothing, It’s not my fault Roy is essentially a gopher.”

“You can’t just go around making vain threats to people for information, Y/N.”

“That’s literally how I do my job, Hottie. And I apparently do it well since I got the address.” You look at Aaron over the roof of the car. “Don’t question how I do my job, I won’t question how you do yours.” You say before getting back into the driver’s seat.

Aaron sighed a deep sigh, looking up towards the sky.

This was going to be a long case.

Taglist: @evyiione @weepingmoneywagontoad @yeah-just-ignore-me-thanks @dj-lowkey @zizzlekwum @blrthelines @diesinspanishbcimhispanic

#criminal minds #hotchner x reader #aaron hotchner x reader #hotch x reader #aaron hotchner #aaron hotchner x reader smut #hotchner x reader smut #bau x reader #hotch x reader smut

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malfoymanortings · 4 years ago

Text

parallels

SUMMARY: history seems to have a habit of repeating itself when elanora snape overhears a conversation between harry potter, the boy she fancies, and his friends.

PAIRINGS: one sided Harry X fem!oc/Snape’s daughter

kinda angsty. hope you all enjoy!

“Elanora Snape and Harry Potter.” Slughorn called, confirming what Elanora had been hoping against.

He kept pairing others together, but all Elanora focused on was that her always unfortunate luck had put her with Harry Potter. Not only was the boy awful at Potions, but her father despised him which meant they didn’t exactly get along.

Slughorn instructed them to go to their assigned partners. Elanora trudged along to where Harry sat, her heart beating in her chest.

Ron Weasley was whispering something to Harry, abruptly cutting himself off when she arrived. He didn’t give her more than a disapproving look, and she felt her lip lift in a sneer as he did so.

She sat down gingerly in her chair, tying back her long black hair with her nimble fingers. Harry nodded to her, pulling out his Potions book.

“Right, so we’re meant to make a poison antidote,” Harry stated awkwardly, running a hand through his unruly black hair. “Would you like to choose the Potion, or should I?”

“I can.” she offered quietly, sliding out of her seat. She could feel his eyes on her as she walked to the front of the room.

She plucked a glittering pink potion, recognizing it as a particularly deadly poison that, once ingested, ripped apart the person's insides. Holding it in her hand, she walked back to Harry, who was studying his Potions book intently with a frown on his face.

“All we’ll have to do is neutralize the acromantula venom in this,” she held out the vial. “And it shouldn’t be poisonous any more.”

“Brilliant,” Harry looked up, seeming disappointed in something. “Well, let’s have at it then.”

They set to work, talking only to discuss possible ingredients. Normally Elanora would be much more focused during a Potions lesson, as it was nearly second nature to her with her father being Potions master, but she kept getting distracted by how brilliantly green Harry’s eyes were. The light would catch them in the most spectacular of ways, sending different shades of green throughout the iris.

He kept running a hand through his hair, his long fingers messing up the already untidy strands. His jaw would clench in frustration every so often, and he would grip his book tightly, making the taught muscles in his forearms pop. Elanora found herself watching his every move subtly, swallowing hard and flushing whenever he would seem to catch her.

“Do I have something on my face?” Harry questioned suddenly, wiping at his cheek.

“Oh,” Elanora flushed, tapping her finger tips against the table. “No, I don’t think so.”

Harry made a noncommittal noise, eyeing her out of the side of his eyes. She resumed looking through her textbook, reprimanding herself for staring so heavily. He was just so beautiful.

Harry’s luck in Potions had seemed to run out as well. For whatever reason, Hermione Granger was smug about the fact. It made Elanora angry to see the bushy haired girl nearly euphoric at the sight of Harry and her failing to find the correct antidote.

As Elanora added pixie tears to the possible antidote, Harry suddenly stood from his chair and hurried over towards the supply closet. Her breath caught in her throat as she found herself mesmerized by his movements once more, and she quickly shook her head. There was no need for her to revisit her carefully hidden crush on Harry Potter. It was a fact that she had hidden from everyone else.

“This should do it,” Harry held out his hand, revealing a Bezoar in his grasp. “Think it’ll slide with Slughorn?”

A laugh escaped Elanora’s lips. “It just might. A bit bold of you, I must say.”

“Well, I would never try this with your dad,” Harry said offhandedly, setting the Bezoar down. “I’m sure he would have-” he abruptly cut himself off, as though he had just realized who he was speaking to.

“He probably would have spit in your face, and taken fifty house points from Gryffindor.” Elanora finished for him, a slight grin on her face. She knew her father could be an arse. That was the only side he ever showed at Hogwarts. He was a touch better at home, away from all the eyes.

Harry let out a started laugh, shaking his head as he eyed her appraisingly. “Yeah, he would have.”

His smile caused her tummy to begin performing an acrobatics routine. He was so handsome. Why did he have to be so handsome?

Much to Hermione Granger’s dislike, the Bezoar went over supremely well with Slughorn. Harry’s grin at the teacher's approval made Elanora grin herself.

From the moment of their pairing in Potions class, Elanora and Harry became more

cordial. It made the crush she harbored for the green eyed boy blossomed into full blown fancying. Her sixth year was already hard on her. Her best friend Draco had suddenly decided he no longer wanted to associate with her due to something going on with her dad. She wasn’t able to figure what exactly it was.

Harry had become the highlight of her year.

They were walking together after Potions, discussing the lesson. Usually he walked with Harry and Ron, so the fact that he was walking with her had her heart fluttering in her chest like a caged bird.

Harry was recounting a story from earlier in the year when he had mouthed off to her father, saying he needn’t call him sir. It was funny hearing Harry’s perspective, as she had already heard it from her father. Harry had grown more comfortable complaining about her father with her, as she had made it clear that she understood her father wasn’t perfect and definitely targeted Harry. She wasn’t quite sure why.

“Hey, Harry!”

Ginny Weasley appeared from the crowd. She didn’t spare a glance towards Elanora, instead smiling widely at Harry.

Harry was smiling back. He suddenly tugged at his shirt, running a hand through his hair. He had a look in his eye that was unmistakable. It was the look Elanora found herself giving him more often than not.

Her heart sank.

“Oh, hi Ginny,” Harry beamed, before glancing down at Elanora. “Mind if I catch up with you later?”

“No problem,” she forced a smile on her face, her throat constricting. “See you around.”

Harry smiled at her, and walked off with the beautiful redhead. Elanora’s face began to crumble, and she hurried along the hallway with her head down. She didn’t need to cry over something as trivial as this.

Later that evening, she resolved herself to speak with Harry. Maybe, if she told him how she felt, he would feel the same. She knew Ginny was dating Dean Thomas anyways. Besides, she had to admit she was fairly emotionally invested in Harry at this point. For all she knew, the interaction he and Ginny shared may have been entirely friendly, but her mind hadn’t allowed her to see that.

She had recalled him saying he was going to the library with Ron and Hermione this evening. She could walk in there, and ask to speak with Harry alone. Surely, with any luck, he would feel the same way. She had to hold onto that hope.

The library was huge, but she found the trio fairly quickly. Her heart swelled when she saw Harry’s unruly hair, but the words coming from Ron’s mouth made her falter in her step, and hide behind a bookcase as she eavesdropped on their conversation.

“So, Gin said you were walking with Snape after class,” the redhead let out a laugh. “Gin thinks she fancies you.”

“Elanora?” Harry questioned, straightening up in his chair.

Her interest was undoubtedly peaked now. A smile crossed her face, perhaps she was about to get her answer without asking him herself. Maybe Ron Weasley wasn’t a complete idiot.

“Yeah mate,” Ron sounded humourous. “Anything you want to tell us?”

“No,” Harry said quickly. “No way I’d ever be with a Snape. Don’t think I could ever get over the nose.”

The three bust out laughing. The words stabbed deep into Elanora’s heart.

“That’s a bit harsh, Harry,” Hermione reprimanded between giggles. “But I do see what you mean.”

“Hard not to, innit?” Ron joked, his laughter subsiding. They laughed again, before moving onto another topic.

With tears welling in her eyes, Elanora backed away. She wasn’t as careful as she should have been, and she knocked into the bookcase behind her, causing a few books to tumble to the floor with a crash.

The trio looked behind them, their faces reminiscent of a deer caught in headlights. Elanora felt her tears slipping down her cheeks in a steady stream, and she turned on her heel, leaving the books on the ground.

The few students she passed in the hallway gave her odd looks as she clambered through the hall to her common room. Her chest ached and her throat was tight, but she made it to her room before she completely fell to pieces.

She was so stupid. Why had she even entertained the thought of Harry liking her back?

Something inside of her shifted and cracked. Her sadness gave way to a burning pit of anger that settled in her throat. She wanted nothing more than to hurt them the way they had hurt her. But did she want to go that far?

#harry potter #harry #potter #snape #snape fandom #snape family #snape daughter #severus snape #hogwarts #ron weasley #ronald weasley #harry potter x oc #angst

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theaspers · 5 years ago

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you feel like home | satan x reader

a/n: i’m too lazy to finish this but i got lazy towards the end so here, you can have it. college au so everyone’s human here but u will find i rarely ever write satan’s name and that’s only bc it’s so weird to write it and think about how in this au a set of parents thought naming their child satan is ok lol. this will be the only time u see me use a post divider bc it’s that messy.

here is how it usually is:

satan wakes up with a start. his breathing is heavy, every gasp sounding terribly like it might be his last, and his eyes are wild. this isn’t fear because he is not afraid. he is never afraid. rather, it is anger. anger at himself, at his brothers, at anyone and everyone who has ever wronged him before. fiery red and burnt orange, anger in all possible forms and shapes and sizes, rolling off of him in waves.

there is not many places in which he finds respite from the barrage of emotions he constantly feels. but when you wake up, bleary-eyed and groggy, and say nothing, waiting with the utmost patience for him to return. when you wrap an arm around his shoulders, careful and cautious. when you tug him down and hum a little tune under your breath that lulls him back to sleep. it’s as close to one as he’ll ever get, he thinks.

for a fleeting second, he thinks about telling you of his feelings. vomit it all out so he doesn’t have to sit any longer with the uncomfortable feelings that’s been bubbling at the pit of his stomach for far too long. but your fingers are too gentle as they press against his still-pounding heart, and your eyes are too tender as they meet his own. there’s an unusually bright beam of moonlight spilling across your features from the gap between the curtains and it makes you look as dazzling as ever. it wouldn’t be right to ruin such a beautiful moment, he thinks, to ruin such a beautiful person with all of whatever he is. so he doesn’t.

repeat and recycle.

you are kind. with him, you’ve managed to practice this weird balance of confident indifference and empathy that just works for him. it’s never been like that before. not when he’d lost his parents but had felt relieved instead of the expected grief. not when his sister had died and had taken along with her a good portion of everyone’s soul. not when he’d finally just upped and left because the tension in the house was getting too much for him to bear.

he has no parents, he told you once, a long time ago. a green haze of disgust had curled around him and eyes steaming, rolling and boiling. the grip he had on the stack of papers he’d been flicking through caused ripples across the filled pages. you know this fact, clever enough to have gathered as much from how much he soured whenever parents were mentioned, but he had never outright admitted it.

“you’re ruining my notes,” you’d said to him instead of the pity he is all too familiar with. there had been a deep furrow between your eyebrows, displeasure in your frown, “i worked extremely hard on that.”

it had been relief, looking back now, that had filled him up to the brim. his heart had felt full, but not in the bad way - always in the good way with you - and he’d felt unburdened for once. he looked at you then, eyebrows raised. where he thought there would be anger, there was only amusement. he’d only known you for a handful of months but somehow he’d expected as much from you. and it’s comfortable.

“the world’s full of awful, terrible people who shouldn’t be parents,” you’d pointed at him with an opened highlighter pen, waving the neon tip in his direction, “doesn’t mean you’re awful or terrible too.”

huh.

“and it certainly doesn’t mean i want to spend my whole afternoon talking about them,” your frown turned into a scowl as you reached over the tabletop filled with textbooks and worn notebooks and loose papers, “give those here if you’re not gonna treat them right.”

light laughter spilled out of his lips as he pulled the notes away. you were kind. too kind. looking back, that must have been the start of it all.

you’re curled up in a hoodie, crumpled up on the sofa in a way he’s sure is not good at all for your posture but he’s long given up trying to chastise you over it. face smooshed against the arm of the chair, a textbook draped open over your chest in a way that makes him wince, you looked positively ridiculous. ignoring the pang of fondness, he nudges you with his knee.

“come on,” he says, closing the textbook and putting it aside, “let’s get you to bed.”

you groan but are otherwise easily coaxed into bed, curling into his side as he lead you to your room. the fondness magnifies immensely. that you’d spent the better half of yesterday revisiting old topics and making notes which is why you’re so tired right now is somehow endearing to him. he brushes his lips against your forehead as he watches you settle into bed. if he spends a bit more time lingering at the door, no one would know.

he doesn’t want to say it’s because of you but you did play a big part in it. he talks more to his brothers now and it’s, well, good. it’s the distance and the fresh air too, maybe.

he doesn’t have parents but he does have 6 brothers, he’d admitted one quiet night. the two of you had been lying on your backs, the clear night sky spread out over your figures, gorgeous swirls of different shades of blacks and dark blues with specks of bright diamond jewels. 6 brothers and a sister who had passed and had taken a piece of all of them with her.

“oh.” you’d said but you already knew about his brothers because he’d told you. not so much in stories, of course, but through bits and pieces he’d mentioned here and there. beel likes that snack, he would tell you and so you’d tell him to send some to him. asmo’s been talking to him about a brand new make up collection that’ll be released soon and so you’d tell him that you’ll keep an eye out. but the thing about his sister - that’s new.

the hurt is still there even though it’s been a long time now. raw pain as if his chest is dangerously exposed and someone’s gone ahead and ripped his still-beating heart out of him. he has yet to find that heart, it seems. it still hurts but ever since he’d left, he’s been able to breathe a bit better. see past the green and grey cloud that hovered over him and his brothers when he’d been at home.

“that one’s orion,” you’d murmured, and he knows it’s just you trying to digest his words, trying to figure out a good response, “people use that one to find other stars too, did you know that?”

he did, in fact. but still, he’d watched, quiet as you pointed out a few others. your eyes are wonder-filled, the twinkle brighter than anything else in the sky, and it had left him breathless. the tightness around his throat had loosened. southeastward and there is sirius, you’d said, in awe and in love. from rigel to betelgeuse, there is gemini - the stars castor and pollux.

“it must be stuffy to be immortalised like that, huh?” you’d turned him then, meeting his eyes, smile gentle, “always expected to be same. unchanging. must be suffocating.”

a stray chuckle leaves him, weak.

“just let it happen,” you told him afterwards and he’d wanted to laugh even more because it shouldn’t be that easy to absolve him of everything he’s been feeling but it had been. “all i’m saying is that you don’t need to feel guilty anymore.”

“talk to them,” you suggested, no hesitation, letting him lean against you, “they lost a sister too, you know?”

there’s a lecture that he has to attend in about an hour but you’re still snoring away on your side of his bed and it’s so tempting to join you in sweet slumber. you don’t have classes until later on so you’re good but he’ll be late if he dallies for any longer.

but he can’t seem to pull himself away from you. so he takes this in, the absolute mess in the morning. listens to your steady breathing. savours the moment and keeps it close. a beautiful solace that he’ll allow himself for when he needs the reprieve.

“ha,” there’s a smug curl to your lips, eyelids fluttering open as if knowing that he’d been starting, “nerd. go to class.”

he rolls his eyes. he could always count on you to ruin a tender moment.

“you should get one for lucifer,” the words barely leave your mouth before you’re laughing, from a tiny little snicker to full blown laughter, “for- for cerberus.”

the hand that’s holding out your phone for him to see the page full of ugly little suit for dogs shakes wildly. he scowls at the mention of his eldest brother and you laugh even more, setting down your utensils in favour of rubbing the tears that have sprung up in the corner of your eyes from laughing too hard.

“are you going back for the break?” you ask once you’ve calmed down, reaching over to pull his plate of pie closer to yourself. you pick up your fork once more, digging into the soft pastry.

he curls his nose at the prospect of going back home, “unfortunately.”

“unfortunately,” you parrot playfully, rolling your eyes. “yeah, okay.”

“it’s been a long time coming anyways,” you grin around the mouthful of pie, “they miss you, i think. and don’t tell me you don’t miss them too.”

he sighs, shakes his head as he tugs his plate back over to his side. he knew he shouldn’t have given asmo your phone number. he would never attest to the happiness that blooms in chest. no one would be able to prove it, anyways.

here’s how it is now:

he reels you into a hug as he’s about to leave for back home. he feels as light as a feather, and he has to admit, he’s a bit...excited. when the two of you break apart, he says thank you and gives you an earnest smile. he has to suppress his laughter when feels the way you shudder in his arms.

something’s changing. and change is, well, good. in most cases. and this is one of those cases. it’s good. he’s not afraid, he tells you, he’s never afraid. there is no fear. no anger. just adoration and fondness. for you.

and so he decides in that moment - when he gets back, he’ll let you know.

#and then he never comes back lolol im jk...or am i?#obey me #obey me swd #obey me x reader #obey me imagines #obey me satan

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noxtms · 4 years ago

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IN CHARACTER DATE : december 25th, 2020. TRIGGER WARNINGS : n / a.

( at first, nothing. )

a woman screams. she is crouched before the veil, supporting the non existent weight of a skeleton - no, no, a man, so naked and emaciated that he passes too well - both arms wrapped around him, pulling him, trying to force him to his feet even while she struggles to get her own beneath her. cloaked figures stagger forwards across ancient stone, just as disoriented, taking him from her so that she can rise, shakily, to her feet.

( SUDDENLY : EVERYTHING. )

she lunges. looks as if she's about to fall. doesn't. she is desperately trying to reach for the items that lie before the archway, her fingers extending, the edge of a silvery wisp of fabric just barely within her grasp when a jagged jet of red light collides with her arm. another explodes against the ground. another.

figures - uncloaked, eyes wide, ferocious, shoulders squared, wands drawn - flood the room and take it all in. the destruction. the sight of the others who are only now beginning to rise. bellatrix scrambles backwards, clutching her arm to her, unheard of fear tinging her expression. a tall man with a long, dirtied beard raises his wand again -

they disapparate. all of them. everyone dressed in black disappears, only one extending a hand to grab onto her shoulder and take her with him, the last scream of protest echoing in the chamber. the man is gone too. has been brought. he looked dead.

( lungs fill - oh god, oh god, they might explode - everything feels red, raw, fire, burning - )

beyond the archway stands another man, his shoulders hunched, damp & ragged long hair covering one side of his face. he looks like someone. someone known, once. someone remembered. someone who never appeared on the other side like he was supposed to. they are so alike that it is jarring, sets teeth on edge, forces you to look desperately for just one difference, just the one to set them apart - if he smiled, it would light his face so differently. not charming. shy. it isn't him, but if it isn't, then who is it?

he jolts when the others realize he's there, a deer caught in headlights. his chest rises and falls, rises as if he is gulping air for the first time in years, like a drowning man who has just stumbled from the grasp of murky waters, every exhale hurried so he can inhale again, sharply.

not him.

not sirius.

someone moves. does not brandish a wand, just makes as if they are going to move toward him, and then he is gone with a crack. just like the others.

( it is so hard to focus. it is so hard to see. everything hurts - everything blurs - everything twists inside - )

a shock of red hair. she's lying so still, again, slumped near to the items abandoned. another redhead on unsteady feet clambers the dais - does not care about these meaningless things the wild woman tried so hard to reach - and pulls her into his lap. "ginny, ginny, ginny-" his whole body shakes. she’s so pale.

another's hand presses to her neck, and something blossoms in their expression, brightens a face that had turned a horrible shade of grey. "she has a pulse. she’s alive.”

is she? is she, really? she doesn't look it. no one thinks it. murmurs of how it can't be, it can't be, it isn't possible.

she doesn’t look it. maybe it isn’t.

( a whimper slips past broken lips. )

"who..."

( who? )

noticed with a gasp. the pounding of footsteps. someone falls to their knees and cold hands press against his skin and he flinches away from the touch because it is still too painful - it is a relief, but it is too much, his skin feels too fresh, and they don't know, or realize, because they are mirroring the action done already, pointlessly searching for a pulse that flutters too fast beneath their fingertips.

they babble with senseless confusion and others loom above him and he cannot make their features out, cannot see through blurred vision, but they are... warm- familiar- they know him. he knows them.

"harry-"

a legacy. a life done before. a name forms on the tip of his tongue, the salve to undoing :

harry potter.

ROUNDUP OF FATALITIES & INJURIES ( DUMBLEDORE’S ARMY ):

dennis creevey took a stunner to the back & was knocked unconscious. aside from some minor cuts and bruises, he's in perfect health.

aura hargate's knees will have to be put the right way around again, and this in combination with some unnamed curses cast upon her by thorfinn rowle spells a few days in st mungo's for her.

nellie diggory is badly shaken by her experience under the cruciatus, and some additional injury sustained in the chaos of the battle means she will have to spend at least 24 hours under observation on a ward in st mungo's.

alicia spinnet managed to break her ankle in the second tumble that she took, and has some cuts from the glass case that shattered in the elder wands room. her other injuries are fairly minor, sustained in battle, but she will have to take heavy doses of skele-gro for a few days.

luna lovegood is battered and bruised, though the worst injury she seems to have received is the long gash along her arm that rendered it unusable for the latter half of the battle. she won't have to go to st mungo's, so long as she promises to apply a healthy amount of essence of dittany.

hermione granger's cheek was sliced cleanly by an unknown spell, and she has a number of other injuries ranging in severity, including ones sustained from the explosion of glass in the wands chamber, including what may be a shard in the eye - the healers will take a closer look at st mungo's.

ron weasley is shaken up badly by his time under the cruciatus, and sustained a number of other injuries in the battle. some of his ribs were fractured in one of the dives he made to avoid numerous confringo's, and should rest up for a while.

cassia trelawney's right side is badly burned from her dress going up in flames. though they were able to be put out, the damage was quite severe - she'll need to spend an extended time in st mungo's as they work to repair it.

dean thomas will spend at least twenty four hours in an induced coma as mediwizards work to undue the curse placed upon his skull, and reduce it to its normal size. when he awakes, he'll have to spend a few days for observation. the rest of his injuries are mostly superficial.

ginny weasley died, so there's that, but sustained a gash to her head after being caught with a ribboning curse and has a large injury shoulder to torso that will require immediate medical attention. she's fairly battered and bruised, in general, but st mungo's will focus on the former.

percy weasley was tortured for a number of days. he will have to spend as much time as they can keep him in st mungo's to be treated for the injuries he received at the hands of the carrows in addition to the starvation and dehydration from what was withheld from him. the healers think he'll make a full recovery - physically.

ROUNDUP OF FATALITIES & INJURIES ( THE DEATH EATERS ):

mikaela karkaroff is generally fine, though she sustained some minor cuts and bruises in the battle.

niko karkaroff is also relatively okay, though his minor cuts and bruises pale to those his feet suffered following the loss of his shoes. that's what you get for being a death eater, i guess.

hazel graves suffered serious lacerations at the hands of nellie diggory, though a few days in a st mungo's ward having essence of dittany applied regularly to them should heal her right up.

alecto carrow has a concussion from being thrown across the room. she did not take part in the initial battle and would have escaped unscathed if not for this - her brothers nose is broken by the stunner that he took to the face.

antonin karkaroff fared well, but fractured a number of his ribs when he took a serious tumble. he needn't visit st mungo's provided he has a private healer he can trust to take care of him in this time.

helen buchanan was knocked unconscious in a fall and also will have suffered a concussion from it, however, she was unfortunately caught in a blast when one of the stone benches around her exploded. she will need to be treated professionally for these injuries.

WORTH NOTING:

apparition in and out of the department is impossible unless one is travelling with a member of said department, or has been given strict overriding permissions. the death eaters being able to apparate will likely be cause for suspicion, since the order of the phoenix were only able to apparate directly into the department of mysteries due to permission granted by the minister of magic himself.

cho chang informed the order of what dumbledore’s army was planning as quickly as she could - it wasn’t quick enough to stop what happened, but she’s owed a great thanks for her concern.

jo diggory & theodore nott, notably unpresent for the past five plot points, are alright. jo was left with cho at number twelve, grimmauld place, needing rest and recuperation to heal from the sectumsempra that hazel graves hit them with. theo was found soon after the battle and revived, and aside from being disoriented - and the use of an unforgivable curse upon him likely to be revisited later - was unharmed.

OUT OF CHARACTER:

this marks the official end of NOXTMS : PLOT ONE. it’s been a great few months, but trust me - we’re in for some FUN over the next few months and phase ! individuals who had characters that took part in this event are welcome expand on their own re: the injuries sustained that aren’t specified, and we’ll discuss in the discord what our next steps as the dumbledore’s army group is.

while nox remains at the masquerade, event wise, moving slowly forward through the night to eventually incorporate this - you’re very welcome to start private and public threads dealing with the aftermath if you’d like. all the more for fun !

applications for HARRY POTTER & REGULUS BLACK will not be accepted for at minimum seven days, as i don’t intend on letting it be a first come, first serve situation. lord voldemort is understandably joining the ranks as an npc.

THANK YOU SO MUCH ! i’m going to want to make a larger ... thank you speech, later. but thank you all so much for your engagement, and i hope you’ve enjoyed !

#nox.event009 #nox.important #hp rp #harry potter rp #appless rp #fandom rp #canon rp #oc rp #mumu rp #hp roleplay

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likealightsw1tch · 4 years ago

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The Olive Branch

This is a short little part-two, of sorts, to my story The Time In-Between. It was always intended as a one-shot, and then I started mapping out a continuation (which still might happen), but for now I think I’m going to compromise and leave it at this drabble that takes place the morning after the events of the story.

I wanted to write something for @elderkevinmckinley for her birthday, and she had so many kind words about this particular story of mine, so I figured this was as good a time as any to revisit this.

Anyway. Happy birthday, hope you enjoy :)

*****

“Hey.”

Kevin woke to a hand on his shoulder, shaking him lightly. He jerked back at the unexpected touch but settled when he opened his eyes to see Jack standing over him.

“Sorry,” Jack muttered, his eyes narrowing slightly at the reaction. Kevin looked away. “Um, we should probably switch places. Mom will be up soon.”

He squinted at the alarm clock across the room. Nearly six o’clock. He was finally paying for all those months of being spoiled by the luxury of sleeping in with no one to hold him accountable. “Okay,” he replied sleepily.

He saw Jack’s gaze shift to where Connor’s head lay on his chest, his arm strewn across his stomach, and almost apologized on instinct before he stopped himself. There was nothing to apologize for. He wasn’t sorry. But if Jack was offended by the predicament, he kept his mouth shut, instead standing up straight and taking a step toward the door. “I’ll, uh. I’ll give you guys a second.”

He retreated from the room and Kevin heard the click of the bathroom door down the hall. Grateful, he turned his attention to Connor, and his stomach immediately twisted.

He looked worse than he had last night, which was saying something. While the swelling in his lip had gone down significantly after icing, the bruise around his eye was a deeper shade of purple, his eyelid forced firmly shut. Kevin couldn’t wrap his mind around it. The idea of hitting Connor McKinley, the sweetest, gentlest, most compassionate person he had ever met, was something so unjustifiably evil to him. He couldn’t understand how anyone, least of all his own father, could have done this. Instinctively, his arms tightened around the sleeping boy in his arms before he released him, bringing a gentle hand up to comb through his hair.

“Hey, Con,” he spoke softly, gently rousing him. Ever the light sleeper, he stirred at the touch, his good eye fluttering open. Kevin watched the momentary confusion sweep over his expression, followed by a wince of pain, as he pushed his head up to look around.

“It’s okay,” Kevin ran a hand over his arm, “I’m right here. We’re in my house. In Jack’s room, remember?”

Connor met his eyes, the realization falling over him, though it rightfully seemed to unsettle him more than comfort him. Of course he remembered.

“Sorry,” Connor croaked, the low, gravelly morning voice Kevin loved so much peeking through. “Did I sleep too long?”

“No,” Kevin assured him, “No, it’s not even six yet. I just wanted to let you know me and Jack are switching back. I didn’t want you to wake up alone and be scared.”

Connor peeled himself off of Kevin, leaving behind an immediate cold in his absence, and settled into the pillow beside him. “Thank you.”

Kevin let his eyes linger on his boyfriend a moment longer, watching as he struggled to find a position that wouldn’t press against his bruises on his face.

“You should sleep as long as you want to,” Kevin told him, reaching out to run his fingertips against the unscathed part of his cheek. “You need rest. We’ll talk about going to get the car later.”

Connor only nodded, letting his eyes fall shut again. Kevin pulled his legs over the side of the flimsy bed. He paused, reaching back to hold Connor’s hand. “I love you,” he said. Connor was nearly asleep again by the looks of it, but he squeezed Kevin’s hand gently in return, and Kevin heard the reply anyway.

*******

Kevin made it down the stairs without a sound, casting a glance down at his watch as he reached the bottom. He still had a few minutes before his mother’s alarm would be set to go off, which should be plenty of time if he worked fast.

He crept into the empty kitchen and looked over his shoulder before pulling the ziplock bag of coffee grounds out of his shirt. It felt ridiculous to treat the simple task of brewing coffee with the delicate precision of a bank heist, but in his parents’ household it might as well have been one.

He had made it all of two days without it upon his return to the states, vowing to respect his parents' rules as long as he was living under their roof, but caffeine dependency was no joke, as it turned out. In the end, he justified it by deciding he was better off sneaking a rogue cup of coffee in the morning than inadvertently biting off someone’s head during the day. Really, he was doing everyone in a favor.

Twisting the kitchen faucet to its lowest (and quietest) setting, he filled up a small pot, setting it on the stove. He peeled open the bag and shook some of the grounds into the glass cylinder of his stealthily hidden French press. He paused, tilting his head at the measurement before deciding to pour a little bit more. He hadn’t gotten much sleep last night, after all. He had earned it.

The whole bag nearly slipped out of his hands, however, when his mother’s voice chirped from behind him. Kevin jumped, narrowly intercepting the expletive that threatened on the tip of his tongue.

“Good morning,” she greeted, pulling her robe around her middle from the doorway of the kitchen.

Kevin clutched the bag to his chest as he spun around, the evidence on full display. “Mom. Hi.”

Mrs. Price shifted her gaze from the incriminating coffee grounds, back to Kevin’s face. He braced himself for a fight, but she only cleared her throat, averting her eyes altogether before making her way to the fridge. He stood frozen as she brushed past him, watching as she wordlessly gathered supplies for breakfast. When she offered no further comment, he turned back to the counter, resealing the bag. His mother set up shop on the opposite side of the stove, seemingly paying him no attention as he continued on with his morning routine. He looked up at her as she began cracking eggs into a bowl.

“Sorry,” he said sincerely, awkwardly. “I was hoping I would be done before you guys woke up.” She only spared him half a glance and a tight smile, focusing on the work in front of her. He cleared his throat and tried again. “I don’t mean to be disrespectful.”

At this, Mrs. Price finally turned to him, albeit briefly, and her smile bore a slightly more genuine glint this time. She pulled her eyes away again before she spoke. “It’s fine, Kevin.”

Kevin’s eyebrows twitched downward, but he pulled his attention back to the stove, turning up the heat. He wasn’t sold on her sudden nonchalance, but he was far too smart to reopen a case she seemed willing to close. At least for now.

“How is he?”

“What?” Kevin looked up to find his mother’s eyes trained on her bowl as she began whisking.

“Your um… Connor,” she said, his name slightly pinched in her throat. “Is he… well, how is he doing?”

Kevin blinked a few times. “Oh. Uh, he’s okay, I guess.” He winced at the intrusive memory of his purpling eye, the look of fear in his expression when he woke up. “As okay as he can be.”

His mother nodded, never once meeting his eyes. He thought that would be the end of the conversation, but as he lifted his boiling water off the stove, his mother placed the bowl on the counter and braced her hands against it, going completely still. Kevin looked to her.

“It’s a shame,” she whispered, and though he couldn’t see her face from the way she had her head tucked away from him, he swore he heard the hint of tears in her voice, “I just don’t understand how his father… how his mother…”

Kevin clicked the stove off, swallowing hard. He watched as she struggled to gain her composure, but after a quick shake of her head, she turned her back to him, wiping at her face and opening one of the cabinets above her.

“Sugar?” She asked, her voice stretched thin and high.

Kevin blinked. “Huh?”

“Do you take sugar? With your coffee?”

He turned to her, their eyes finally meeting. Her smile was just as stiff as before, but it was a smile nonetheless. Everything about the exchange felt a little sticky, a little too careful and perhaps even some parts of it forced, but as she held the jar of sugar out to him from across the stovetop, Kevin thought he saw the transaction for what it really was. An olive branch of sorts, maybe. A show of her willingness for compromise. A silent “I don’t understand you right now, but I love you.”

A promise of I would never do to you what his parents have done to him.

It was far from perfect, Kevin knew, but it was a start. It was a start.

“Sure,” he smiled, taking the jar from her hands. He was unwilling to tell her in that moment that he had never once added sweetener to his coffee. Today seemed like as good a time as any to make an exception. “Thanks, mom.”

#book of mormon #mcpriceley #kevin price #elder mckinley #connor mckinley #amanda's bom cinematic universe #the time in-between #jack price

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randomoranges · 4 years ago

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i’ve had this idea for ages and never got around to it.

Impulsively Yours

They’d agreed, ages ago, through much trial and even more error, that when they visited a museum together, they’d do a first run together and afterwards, once Edward was done, he’d give Étienne a few more hours and they’d meet up afterwards. It wasn’t that Edward didn’t enjoy museums, he enjoyed going very much, but Étienne brought the whole “museum outing” to a whole other level.

The man could spend an entire day there, without exaggeration.

Edward, however, being a mere mortal, needed fresh air, a break, water, and some type of food after a few hours or else he became very unpleasant and miserable.

He also did not spend thirty minutes plopped in front of a painting observing it. (The record, to date, was forty-four minutes and forty-four seconds. Edward had counted. While sitting a few feet away.)

Étienne, on the other hand, was a special case all by himself.

Edward remembered one of the first times they’d gone to the museum together. Edward had thought they’d go, spend max three hours, then grab an early dinner and then take it from there. Instead, his darling boyfriend had them show up as the museum opened, which was fine, and then the nightmare had started.

Sure, Étienne had studied art a lot more than he had, and yes, it was nice when his boyfriend explained certain techniques that a painter had used, and it was neat when Étienne would give him the back-story of a certain piece, and yes, it was very interesting to watch Étienne be completely enthralled and captivated by a piece. In fact, those were his favourite parts of going to a museum – listening to Étienne ramble on about his impressions of a piece, or how this particular art movement had come to be. He loved the way Étienne’s face lit up with passion for the subject and he had a way to make even the dullest of pieces come to life, but Edward got restless after a bit. He enjoyed the stories, but in doses. Not as some gluttonous overindulgence.

Therefore, after one too many outings where Edward had grown insupportable, had dragged his feet through the last bit of the gallery and after far too much bickering, they’d come to their current solution.

Before going to the museum, they scoped out which exhibits and wings they both wanted to see. They would start with those and Edward was free to follow Étienne around, or if he’d gotten his fill, he would sit and wait for him, before they’d move on to the next part they wanted to see. Then, once they’d seen everything they both wanted to look at, Edward would leave and they would meet up in about two hours time max at some place they had previously agreed to. That way, Étienne could spend more time, Edward could grab a snack somewhere, and afterwards they could continue on their day together, without either of them being in a foul mood.

It was a good compromise.

This was how Edward currently found himself browsing the busy streets around the museum, while he waited for his beau.

He’d gone and gotten himself some ice cream, but seeing as Étienne still had another hour if he so desired and he hadn’t gotten a message saying that he was on his way, Edward decided to walk around and play the tourist while he waited. He wasn’t looking for anything in particular, he simply wanted to pass time, and that’s when he stumbled upon a display that made him pause and walk back.

The shop was a local jewelry store and in its display window, there were lovely pieces, one of which caught his sight due to its unique colour and shape.

Edward hesitated for a moment, but eventually, decided that there was absolutely no harm into stepping inside, especially if it meant that it would get him out of the heat and into the cool air-conditioned store for a moment.

The thing was – he and Étienne had discussed this – the idea of getting married – beforehand. They’d agreed that it had certain benefits, but they were both content with the way things were between them, so they had decided to wait, especially after they’d bought the house. Therefore, they’d left it at that and figured they could revisit the idea at a later date.

But, Edward had seen a very pretty ring in the display window and – he needed to see it up close. Just to – get an idea really. Kill off a few minutes, nothing more. To see what the ring looked like when it wasn’t ensconced between pretty satin sheets and such.

A polite and helpful store clerk asked if they could help him and Edward babbled something about wanting to see the ring in the display window. The clerk nodded and went to retrieve the item, fetching a set of keys and wiggling it out of its elaborate decorative set up, before placing it gently on a tray and bringing it over to the counter where Edward could have a better look at it.

For starters, Edward liked the fact that it wasn’t the usual white or yellow coloured gold; instead it was a pretty shade of rose gold. Étienne was unique and special to him and thus, Edward knew that if ever they were to actually get rings and – do something about them, Étienne would need something that would be as unique and special as he was.

The other thing Edward really liked about it was the two sorts of bands that twined together as if creating some sort of vine that interlaced together. He liked the fact that the bands were thick and solid looking and not something delicate that might break or get damaged. Étienne worked a lot with his hands, and even if he chose to wear the ring around his neck on a chain, (if Edward actually bought the ring and managed to propose and give it to him), he still wanted something that would last.

Edward also knew that as much as Étienne could be extravagant and bold in the way he dressed or the way he acted, he also enjoyed simple accent pieces that spoke for themselves and this ring delivered on that. There were no flashy diamonds or stones, but the criss-crossing bands that weren’t closed over spoke enough for themselves and created motion within the ring.

“It’s a gorgeous piece,” The clerk said, “Is it for someone special?”

Edward smiled and nodded, “Yes – my boyfriend,” He managed to say. He hadn’t really considered properly proposing, but seeing this ring, he knew he wanted to offer it to Étienne. And – they didn’t really need to get married. The gesture and symbolism would be sufficient, but – he wanted Étienne to know and have some physical proof that he was serious about him – about their relationship. Maybe it was a little – over the top or so very typical and maybe even conformist, but the idea made him giddy and happy and he supposed that had to count for something.

The clerk smiled brightly at him, “Well, I’m sure he would love this ring; I’ll give you a moment to think it over?” Edward nodded, thankful and looked over at the ring again. He knew he could shop around, if he was really to do this. He could go to different stores, wait for specials, and weigh his options. He also knew that sometimes, he could accidentally end up waiting too long and then miss out on a certain item. He could, potentially, find something he would like more – or not. He could look around some more and always return here, but what if the ring was gone by then? Surely, if he’d been pulled into this shop because of the ring it had to mean something. And – there was always the chance that Étienne wouldn’t like it – that he’d politely thank Edward for it and politely wear it, but never really fully love it.

He took a deep breath.

Between the two of them, Étienne was the impulsive one. Étienne saw things he liked and went for them. Étienne did not spend days and weeks and months and sometimes years over thinking the smallest of decisions. Étienne was proactive. Usually. On most cases.

Maybe – maybe it was time for Edward to take a page out of his boyfriend’s book and – go for it. The price wasn’t really an issue and he was convinced Étienne would like it. The only thing really stopping him was some sort of fear and the potential for regret. (For what, he wasn’t really sure, but there was always room for regret.)

“I’ll take it.” He finally said when the clerk returned some time later. They smiled at him and went to retrieve a box and Edward grinned, feeling good about the decision – it had been the right one, he was certain.

He made sure to place the ring box deep in his messenger back so that there would be absolutely no way whatsoever that Étienne could accidentally find it in case he went foraging for something and by the time he stepped out of the store, it was nearly the time to meet up with his boyfriend.

“Didn’t miss me too much?” Étienne asked later on as he leaned close to Edward’s side and made a grab for his hand, twining their fingers together, before they headed off.

Edward chuckled and gave his boyfriend’s hand a squeeze, trying not to think of the ring safely nestled in his bag, “Nah, but I did find us a perfect little place for lunch.”

Étienne’s face lit up at the mention of lunch and as they made their way, his boyfriend told him all about the other great pieces he had seen at the museum and then shared some of the photos once they were seated.

The next step, obviously, was to find a time and place to propose, but Edward figured he had time to think about that later. What he never expected, however, was for Étienne to propose to him, one fine June day, after brunch, a few weeks later.

(He said yes, obviously, and later, once he’d gotten over the surprise and his emotions, once they were back home, Edward retrieved the ring he’d purchased some time ago and presented it to Étienne. Étienne of course adored it.)

Now, they just had to figure out when and how they wanted to get married, but there would be time for that eventually.

FIN

#pc: montreal #pc: edmonton #edward murphy #étienne maisonneuve #au #fic #pre-amnesia au

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popculturebuffet · 4 years ago

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Star Vs the Forces of Evil Reviews: The Blood Moon Ball (1-15)

Welcome back.. though to most of you probably just joining me, welcome. I’ve been on a sorta hiatus from revewiing due to a combination of procrastination, depression, and being really busy. But I finally decided it was time to put boots to the ground and get back to doing what I love: Going on way too long about children’s television. As such, with She Ra taking a bow a few weeks back and nailing it I got to thinking about another show that just so happened to end the year before: Star Vs the Forces of Evil. Part of it was very simple: She ra ended on a trriumphant note, making a well set up romance that had been it’s backbone canon, having a wonderful final battle, tons of payoff and a throughly happy ending that satisfied all involved and got tons of well earned coverage for having a deep, meaningful relationship between two lesbians finally coming together being the thing that saves the universe. It was freaking great. Meanwhile a year prior Star Vs, after having been treated like toilet dinner by disney for no good reason by having it’s final season shoved out over a few sundays after a yearlong hiatus.. ended not with a bang, but with a wah wah trumpet. The series ending was unsatisfying, left more questions than answers, had the title character loose all likeablity and was in general miserable. I hadn’t been this pissed off at a finale since How I Met Your Mother and hadn’t seen a romance botched this badly in animation since “Merry Christmas Mordecai”. It was BADDDDD. However it did make me want to go back to the series; To revisit the good, the bad and the just plain weird to remember what made me love the series, what made me want to throw my tv into a river before reminding myself “No dude, shit’s expensive. “, and what COULD have been, what SHOULD have been and what WASN’T. So i’ll be reviewing assorted episodes.. and the best place to start for me was with the introduction of one of the series best characters, as well as at the same time the start of a ship that was a good idea at first but would slowly take the series down with it as it started to fall apart. This is Blood Moon Ball. There will be blood, and a dead horse, after the cut.

Before we get into the episode, one of the series most notable and honestly a damn good one, for those 2 of you not familiar with the series a quick refresher: Star VS is the story of Star Butterfly, a rebelious 14 year old princess from the Kingdom of Mewni. Mewni is your standard medievil fantasy kingdom.. but you know with wifi because they have magic compacts that work as phones and large sale acess to the multiverse. Their also ruled over by a long sucession of queens with great and terrible magic power, which is channeld through an increidbly powerful wand that’s passed down from generation to generation. On her 14th birthday Star gets her turn with the wand.. and not long after sets everything on fire. Not wanting the kingdom to get blown up while Star figures out thing, her parents send her to Earth, and after bribing the school principal into enroling her, that’s not a joke on my part but an actual joke from the pilot, Star soon becomes an exchange student, boarding with the Diazes and soon becoming best friends with their teenage son Marco, a saftey obessed, shy talented martial artist. The two are frequently forced to beat up the hordes of Ludo, a spoiled monster king who wants the wand for himself. Things would get way darker... like in literally two seconds as the revelation star’s people stole mewni from the monsters and Star’s hatred being revealed to be partly racisim instead of standard hero and villian stuff. But that’s for future reviews. Today we have demons, internet commentors and ship tease to get to. So with the basic premise set up let’s finally get on with it. We open on the arrival of my boy and yours, hopefully, Tom Lucitor. Tom is the prince of the underworld, basically exactly what it sounds like: fire, brimstone, demons spooky scary skeltons sending shivers up your spine. He’s also Star’s ex boyfriend. How they broke up is.. never really explained. While more details about their relationship, includign the fact Tom bought Star her iconic Devil Horn headband on their frist date, were revealed in the tie-in spellbook, and reveals that star’s arson that got her sent to mewni happened right after her and tom broke up, but never explains WHY. My guess is since the series clearly frames the breakup as Tom’s fault in this episode and on his anger, they probably didn’t want a scene of him screaming his head off at star, either to keep him sympathetic or , more likely, because a scene of a teenage girl watching her boyfriend having a rage fueld breakdown that leads to htem breaking up would be MASSIVELY uncomfortable to watch and unlike some uncomfortable to watch scenes, wouldn’t tell us anything we didn’t know already. So unlike some later things they never pulled the trigger on this one at least makes sense. Anywho, Tom arrives, parking in the handicap spot (a nice little gag as Star’s crush at the time Oskar points it out, while the dead skeletal horse pulling tom’s carriage turns around to look at him), and all the girls stop and stare.. including Janna, who would probably regret this moment once she realize tom was a bad boy because he’s socially awkard and has anger issues. Basically he’s Kylo Ren but his redemption dosen’t come straight out of JJ Abrhams ass. Tom arrives at Star’s classroom, removes his shade and damn if he dosen’t have game.. but naturally showing up unnannaounced to her school (Not that TOm probably gets what school is as Mewni dosen’t have those, but still), basically assuming she’ll go out with him, after they had a messy breakup it dosen’t go well and we get a great cut of Star shoving tom back into his carriage.. we also get the best joke of the episode. Star: So take your invitation and your fire and your dead horse and go. Dead Horse: wait.. i’m dead? Sad but hilarious. Anyways it’s quickly conved to viewers like us that Tom has anger problems, but he insists to star he’s doing better: he has an anger managment counsler he takes with him places, Brian, voiced by the wonderful and weirdly in Disney’s pocket these days Stephen Root, and a bunny he pets. Before star can pet said bunny Marco , KARATE CHOPS TOM’S HAND OFF.. I just.. until this review I hadn’t sat back to consider just how freakishly strong that boy is , that he can just accidently chop off a hand. I mean tom may have weak joints or something but even after taking far worse blows later on his hands just.. don’t come off. Tom flies itnto a rage and it becomes clear that yeah, whatever happened, it was tom’s fault, and given the kind of rage she flies into, you can see why i’d assume the writers really didn’t want the audience to see him at his worst. I certainly don’t. Star both worried and clearly having seen this sort of thing go bad before urges Marco to run but tom quickly recovers, both reuniting with his hand and having calmed down, and he and Marco are formally introduced, with star explaning the invite. We also get a great line with marco encouraging her “Star never go with a preadator to a second location”. This show was damn good at getting shit past the radar and i’m here for it. Anyways, Star isn’t quite sold despite tom clearly TRYING to get better, and Tom , in a really nice move, gives her a bell and tiny hammer to summon his carriage with if she decides to go but leaves it up to her, not pressuring her or anything. For how selfish tom is initially.. this is a spark that shows h’es not a TERRIBLE person, just one who has some growing up to do. Marco however is not convinced and wants to go with, with Star teling him no because A) he wasn’t invited and it’d be rude to ask and B), she appricates the concerns but she can handle this, and implicily, despite her reckless nature knows this is a risk but knows if the night turns she can handle Tom, and that maybe he’s changed. Marco insists Tom can’t change.. which I find hilarious given his massive character arc to the point I had as eires ofessays planned, and one don about his growth before deciding to change formats to doing each ep of his journey instead every so often, to the point where two years on in the series timeline.. we’ve gone from Marco thinking Tom is a predator to...

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But star decides to go and .. it’s clear from the subtext that while part of it is clear concern for star, Marco’s line about “it being fun here all the time” may mean that while he DOES have the best intentions.. part of him is jealousssssss. More on that in a bit. For now we go to the underworld with the second best gag of the episode as Tom is toning down the spookiness to please star, and one of the guys in the picture at the top insults him... and when tom asks which one he says me. We sadly don’t get an answer but it’s small gags like this that made me want to do this episode by episode. Star arrives.. and things quickly go south. Tom tries giving her a corsage that’s a live spider and she rejects it. This admitely looks bad on both as Tom , living in you know, a hell dimenson probably sees it as a sweet gesture, and Star is refusing it.. but star does so POLITELY, and for understandable reasons, and Tom is still clearly pissed about it. Not long after, they line up for what’s essentially a prom photo.. and to get Carried by a bucket of unicorn blood, another nice little gag. Star refuses since well her best friend is a unicorn, one of them anyway, or at least it’s head.. and yes one of the species in this series multiverse is a bunch of headless unicorns. IT’s wonderful. And star also notices tom needs his anger managment bunny and is clearly pissed about it when, having dated her for several months, clearly should’ve KNOWN this might bother her. That’s really tom’s problem here: He wants everything his way on his terms and only compromises if he thinks it’ll get star to do things with him. He’s made the PRETENSE of changing.. but he really dosen’t WANT to yet. He just wants her back and wants to change just enough to get her back so he can stop trying again. He also may , due to the underworld being diffrent and a place where being covered in a bucket of blood is a time honored tradition instead of the thing that turns a young mutant into a mass murderer, and yes I think a carrie x-men crossover would be the shit. He probably dosen’t GET that star wouldn’t like a spider corasge or bathing in her best friends blood.. but the problem isn’t that. that’s culture shock, that can be bridged with some talk.. the problem is tom dosen’t want to talk, he just wants her to do what he wants and things to be all cool and to get his way. Being a prince with two loving parents, we’ll meet them soon enough just not this episode, and tons of servants, I get the impressionf rom this and other episodes tom simply isn’t USED to not getting what he wants.He’s not USED to being told “No”, and thus has no way to deal with it healthily and isntead lashes out like an angry toddler. It dosen’t make his actions RIGHT but it does make them more understandable and makes it so Tom’s later growth FEELS natural depsite some of his sketchier actions beforehand.

Back at Marco’s house, Marco is depressed eating nachos in a sumbrero.. which if I had corn chips, cheese and a sombrero would probably be my daily life right about now. It’s then we get a WEIRD dropped bit, as Marco hears a weird piratey voice telling him the blood moon is the moon for lovers and stuff. This is IMPLIED to be his monster arm, from an earlier episode.. but it’s.. never explained. Whatever it was going to be was dropped. Which would be fine if the blood moon itself and the end of this episode didn’t get a full explination in season 4 with the writers clearly going back to it to resolve the dangling thread.. but still not explaning the spooky voice. I mean what was it? Marco’s pirate ancestor? the sea captain from the simpsons? the monster arm? terry that bastard? Burt Macklin FBI? Old Man Withers the guy who runs the amusment park? Dirk Dastardely? A sentient payphone? The alps? Tell us damn you! Okay that tangent aside Marco decides to party crash at the advice of the ominous voice.. seriously is it Flintheart Glomgold? Nevermind. Back at the ball star is bonding with a small skeletal fish int he magma punch whent his random asshole comes up and whines for a good minute,if hilariously so, about the ball being changed.

He’s feels, looks and acts like the combination of those morons who were mad adora wasn’t “as hot” in the she ra reboot and was aged down to a teenager and the threw it on the ground guy. After that interlude, tom shoos away a guy asking star to dance and the guy makes vauge comments about tom wanting his and star’s souls to be link while making kissy nosies. Before Tom can explain what he means by that, or at least lie about what he means by that, the blood moon is about the drop, the lights turn red and tom walks off because he wants the music to be perfect. And then Marco arrives in his really damn cool calevara outfit. Which fair play, I can see why, besides ship reasons, it gets a lot of art: it looks really damn neat. Speaking of shipping.. it’s time. Star, not realizing it’s marco, dances with him.. quite romantically in fact. It’s here that the show conciously starts Shipping star and marco together. Starco is born, and the scnee is really good: romantic, well animated, jsut great all around. While the ship would .. end up done rather poorly and lead to some really terrible stuff at the time.. it wasn’t abd and already shipping them I loved this and even now, even knowing what woudl come later... it’s not a bad sequence. The only bad thing is what would come later, but I can’t fault the writers of THIS EP for what they would do in a LATER ONE. That’s just not fair. The ship wasn’t bad to start and the later arc springing from it in season 2 would be good.. it just quickly went in bad directions as the series went on , then disappeared, then how it finallyc ame about was just awful. But as much as I want to.. I can’t blame the sequence on this. It didn’t create rabid shippers or poor writing, it was just good and deserves to be praised as such. Naturally tom takes this about as well as me when I found out HBO max wouldn’t be on roku at launch and prepares to murder Marco.. and promptly gets frozen by star who decides to wisely get out of there. It’s a ncie moment.. and reminder that Star is crazy powerful, as is the wand itself, because as we’ll see later, tom is no slouch himself in the power department, but even if her attack was from behind, she still stopped him in one move. So Star takes marco home and dresses him down for sneaking in, understandbly so: while it was an iffy situation, Star knew who she was dealing with and as shown at the end, was strong enough that tom was no threat to her, and given what we learn later, Tom’s parents would likely never let her come to real harm. For all her reckless decision making, Star thought this one out and Marco shoudl’ve repsectied that and didn’t for his own reasons. To his credit though he apologizes, Star admits to liking the dance, then the two speak in unison a few times, and we wont’ get followup on that till the last season! Roll credits. I don’t have the credits for this episode so enjoy this instead:

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Final Thoughts: Blood Moon Ball is a spectacular ep. A good plot, a great introduction for tom, and great animation and humor really make the episode pop and it’s nice to get our first look at the underworld and tom himself. Tom would be back, and i’ll be back to tom eventually, but on it’s own the episode is really good and it’s standout sequence still holds up even as starco ended up in the sewer quality wise. All in all a great ep and a great starting point if you haven’t watched the show yet. Coming Soon: A return to Star in the near future probably since Tom is great and his second ep deserves love too, as do several other star eps, as well as a look at the saluna episodes of the loud house because i’m in a gay mood for obvious reasons, and a loud house mood for less obvious reasons. Until then, feel free to hit me up with asks with suggestions or commisosns for future reviews, and until next time, later days.

#star vs the forces of evil #star butterfly #marco diaz #tom lucitor #startom #starco #animation #shipping #she ra #rider strong #blood moon #blood moon ball

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grim-faux · 4 years ago

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7 - Men in Shadows

This cell block was small, possibly for the more deranged or criminally insane. With this place it was hard to tell, unless there was a sign saying

Criminally Insane

Please Do NOT Feed

I couldn’t tell. At this point it didn’t matter, the patients were everywhere. The only detail that would make my current location relevant was whether there was a way out of this area. From the pile of corpses I couldn’t discern what was once patient, or if they were what remained of the staff. The idea sickened me that they were left stacked like this, I tried to avoid looking at them as I moved around. I didn’t want to be here longer than necessary.

This choice wasn’t mine. As soon as I spotted the big fucker, I had dashed to the nearest door that would open and ducked inside.

Miraculously the room was clean, aside from the grotesque stench of rot and human waste. I didn’t hesitate to huddle under the bed and listen for the telltale sound of snuffling and mutters about protocol. What was it the reports said, his retardation to former military security protocol? For some reason I fell within this parameter.

“I’ll make the pain go away.” I pushed myself under the bed a little more, until my back was to the wall, and stared at the door.

Worst position I had been in yet. These doors couldn’t be unlocked from the inside. If he, for whatever reason decided to shut it, I was doomed. If he found me locked inside, oh god.

The minutes seemed to drag by as I listened. He muttered to himself, sometimes going to his security protocols, the dangers of contamination, then would swing back to the current task. His mind was damaged, but he still revisited the present and his current mission to locate and kill me.

He knew I was here, that was the only reason he remained patrolling the cell block. It seemed the other patients beyond their fixations could lose interest or forget what they were on about, but the big ugly fucker kept on his task until it was done. Scary as hell.

I was using my NV to track his movements, figure out his pattern. For a short span he became enraged and began throwing things, shoving what sounded like solid metal pieces around. Beds, I think. I saw a few frames discarded outside before I hid. I had to get out of here before the door was flung shut.

The battery needed to be changed first, and better right here should the cameras cheerful peep alert him to my position. I made double sure he was nowhere near the door before I slid out from the bed, on my knees and elbows I crawled out listening. His chains rattled beyond the cell as he calmed his rampage, but resumed a casual stroll.

“I’m coming….”

I pressed myself against the doorframe and stared, and listened. He was on the other side of the room beginning to move in my direction, eyes blazing with a fury that could not possibly be attributed by the cameras night vision.

MOVE Miles! Get going!

I kept low and sprint alongside upturned bed frames. I could make out his heavy foot falls, his labored breath as he shortened the distance. My leg bumped an upturned wheelchair arched over a decapitated body. I froze and waited as Chris seemed to pause. When nothing happened for a long, silent, painful moment, I began up the long row of grated stairs. My steps were nearly nonexistent, but I was certain he could imagine my progress. He wasn’t fooled.

High overhead the light filtered out through the murky windows hitting the dull wall, but not low enough to compromise my stealth. There was one door to the left where I had envisioned ‘Father’ Martin’s form, but of course it was locked. I gave the handle a gentle rattle before I abandoned it. The big fucker’s movement seemed to be getting louder, and his murmurs were more based on how he was going to find me. Restraining my panic, I kept my progress discreet and slow. He was still on the lower floor, he had to find me first. The trick was, not to get caught.

“Little pig, little pig.”

What the fuck was with him? Seriously.

Doors and a few crushed wheelchairs had been jammed into the walkway, which shifted and gave some sound as I pole-vaulted over them on my hands. The walkway was lined with that thick chicken wire, along the wall more patient rooms dotted the walls, nothing to bother with. I didn’t need to encourage myself to hide at this point. All that would manage would be me getting locked in a room.

There must be a way out. If I pretended that I left, maybe the big fucker would resume his search and smash down another door. I’m sure HE could break these metal gates down.

“Come here, little pig.”

I slipped over another bed frame and knelt down, taking pause to try and locate exactly where he was. I couldn’t find him on the lower floor, but he might’ve ducked into one of the open cells. Even if I trapped him in one, he would still smash out. I just needed to stay far from him and everything would be fine.

A segregation point awaited in my path, the door ripped off. One of the two inside might be open, I doubted it though. With the grace of a specter I tried the door before me, then the one to my left. Both were locked, which left the broken opening to my right. I had gone in a big loop around the room with very little to show for it, but I had not seen the end of this path yet.

I still couldn’t find where the big fucker was, but it sounded like he was closing in. Where was he? Had he found a way that I had missed? Unless he smashed down a door, this would be impossible without a sound! There was nothing, nothing I could see.

“Little ghost….” That was right next to me.

I turned the camera, and on the other side of a steel gate stood the big fucker. Shocked, I stumbled back as he began smashing at the door. Maybe he couldn’t break them down?

But as I watched the metal warped inward, around the latch.

Stupidly, I shot forward just by where the door was folding in, torn from its steel hinges. Chris was calling me to come back. I ran, taking the first open route on my left. Could’ve been a dead end, I didn’t give a damn. I needed that distance behind me.

Ahead was another blockade piled high with beds and furniture, somewhere in the collision I’m sure I spied what looked like a gate. I didn’t slow before I shoved my shoulder against the metal frame grunting as I pushed, wedging between broken beds and metal tables. I smashed the side of my brow on the leg of something, but refused to pause as Chris Walker charged up grabbing at the calamity.

Meanwhile, I toppled out the other side falling onto a puddle of filthy water. That was the least of my concerns as I turned back, Chris fought with the metal crammed against the bars of the gate. The more he thrashed and tore at the obstruction, the more it twisted into a cage against the small opening. I dragged myself backwards, not realizing I had dropped the camera as I watched the grinning face with morbid fascination. I dared him, I fuckin dared him to tear down that wall and come after me. I would run again.

“Fuck!” With his anger rebuffed by junk, he pivoted and marched off. Presumably to locate another path to me, or perhaps find someone else that had missed their daily decapitation.

I dropped to my back beside the foul smelling water and panted, dark blots pulsed in my vision and my ribs ached like sharp ice. I had an odd feeling before long, I’d see him again. The sooner I accepted that, the better off I’d be.

I didn’t bother to wait and let myself settle, there was no safe place in Mount Massive and I couldn’t afford to let my guard down at this point. I took up my camera and gave it a look over as I sat up. The red blotches along its side were still there, along with a few new scratches it received somewhere when I was bumbling about. Probably when I fell, which was between cell Block B and Block…wherever the hell I was now. I tried to spit on my damp sleeve and get some of the blood coating its side off, but I was dehydrated. I had been since I awoke in this nightmare, but hadn’t had the chance to pause for a drink. Hell, I doubted any of the water lines still worked with the basement flooded as it was.

The puddle of discolored water?

No way. Rotten blood was ten times cleaner than whatever that was.

I gave up on my coat. I had no idea what it looked like on the backside, I didn’t want to think about it. The inmates might identify me as one of their own the way I was looking now, I just didn’t give a flying fuck anymore.

The path ahead looked ‘favorable,’ that term was used lightly. Another fallen, but the door across from me and the one on my left were both locked. I might’ve recognized the door to my left as being one of the gates I had tried while the big fucker was hunting me on the other side, but I was conserving my batteries for the time being and barely noticed the shades beyond the bars. I returned to the previous darkened hall I had passed by, where bed frames and tables had been stacked precariously against a gate resembling an odd fort. I went ahead and crouched on my knees and hand to crawl through the small space left open.

A silhouette jutted out in my face, and I tried to shove myself backwards only to succeed in hitting my shoulder on the table wedged between the walls. I moaned in pain, my bruised arm not taking the action well. Before I progressed the camera was raised, and I glared at the face. He retreated around the side of the bed, and I slunk forward wary of the obvious dangers. I began to doubt that.

Another man curled in on himself, trembling in the dark like a child hiding from the monster. His hand looked mangled, and an assortment of scars decorated his arms and chest. Even as I moved away from his line of sight, he stared forward at nothing but the cold wall. I left him where he was.

The door at the end of the hall looked locked, I bet money it was locked. I won that bet, and returned to a cell door open part way that led into one of the many nightmares buried in the Asylum.

This was where I learned my fate if I was unable to escape. This area by appearance seemed as general as the Asylum went, but that same forbidding that crawled through my veins when first I set eyes on this place had returned. I knew now not to disregard my instincts.

Crumpled on the floor was the security guard, alive earlier this day, dead now. I had seen the tail end of his life as it was ripped clean out from under him. His head, who the hell knew where it went? Some toilet, a shelf, who cares? Blood had pooled around the stump of his shoulders, he no longer had a neck. It went with his head. I glanced at my camera, before I raised it and filmed. I took in the fallen security operative, then zoomed out on the cell blocks in an uproar with activity.

Most still had people in them.

“Are you my friend?”

I jerked away from the bundled up patient as he approached. Once my initial shock wore off I stood and watched as he came closer and stopped, I checked my visor to make certain my shot of him was clear.

I’m not certain how he saw me, his face was wrapped tightly with gauze, maybe he sensed me. I was beginning to believe anything I came up with. I doubted there was much to fear from him, his arms were tangled tightly in his straightjacket. It looked like his most violent action would be to kick the tar out of my shins, but as it was he only stood at arm length and mumbled through his gag/muzzle.

“Silky. You look so silky. Let me just…” I moved away when he tried to approach, and ignored him as I commenced scouting this place. From the looks of it, the other patients I had seen frantically searching for a way out of here had succeeded, I wondered how the big fucker had gotten out with the fort built in the hall. Some of them might have assembled it when he left. That man trembling, had he been one of the ones seeking a way out and given up? I couldn’t remember, it was dark and I was suffering from shock.

“I need to tell you a secret.”

I didn’t know what to make of this Block D. It was by far the largest, with long thick pillars holding up the high walkways and rooms. The lights still worked gleaming off jagged cement cut like teeth, emphasizing on a sort of ancient rot like being trapped within the ribs of some ancient derelict of a monster slain by science. Shadows were near extinct in this area which unsettled me. The room was a symphony of chatter as patients rattled their bars and yapped for help, or screamed nonsensical phrases of lives left behind. I kept my distance as I searched for an alternative way out, somewhere to climb up or crawl through.

Unlike Block B, the cells in Block D were actual jail cells. Thick bars designed to withstand time and abuse, the patients fought their cage but I couldn’t decide what few had achieved freedom between those that had been freed. The way the floors above had degraded it was no wonder they were trapped inside. Many of the cells on the ground floor were open, I explored a few doubting the capacity of locating a clue to my whereabouts. They were too foul to linger around and many had been stripped of furniture.

“You! Hey!” I didn’t jump back in time, the man had shoved his arm between the bars and caught my coat. “You, you have to let us out of here. These bars, they won’t stop the Walrider.” I shook my arm, but he held tight. “It’ll come for us one by one until we’re all gone.” A final jerk and he lost his grip, I stumbled away and caught myself by one of the pillars. “Please. For the love of god!” He was still reaching for me shrieking.

Another man in his cell paced back and forth mumbling dates and facts. “What did we bring home? What did we use it for!?”

I ran to the other side where, I couldn’t tell exactly, someone was sobbing about the therapy he was forced into. “My family needed money, they said had debts, things to pay….”

My pant leg was ripped up the back of my calf. I leaned down to examine it pretending I couldn’t hear the man confessing. The very bottom of my jeans always wore away at the base, where they met the floor. The material on my leg was still intact, it was only noticeable if I pulled at the denim. My main concern was how well it would protect me, my own blood had seeped through the fabric from shallow scraps I hadn’t noted in my earlier panic. The stain was nearly impossible to distinguish from the dark smears of—

Back to task. I needed to get out of here. There was a way out the patients used, I wasn’t thinking critically enough. How did the lunatics escape? How did they work this out?

Someone, or a few of them, had set up a small collision of beds that were stable enough to climb on. I took it as my best option and crawled up.

“…and there was only one thing I had worth any money.”

Briefly I paused glancing over at the doomed soul, before I climbed up.

A foul reek of fecal waste hit me, forcing me to turn away. “Nurse! Nurse! I’m going to need some help getting clean.” His voice was heavily suggestive, as he ended with cackles. “Nurse.”

Fuck you.

Another locked door, but I checked anyway, couldn’t leave no stone unturned. I raised my camera to check my path, there was a lot of debris from the upper floor on the walkway. The next cell I heard sounds that confused me at first, but I reasoned it was better off not knowing. The door was locked, everything was good. I hurried back to the other path.

I just hated this place. It needed to be nuked from orbit, it was the only way to be sure. Just, god damn these people, and the people that assisted in making them more fucked up than they were in the first place. Was that even possible? I don’t give a shit, blame Murkoff, blame them for everything, including me stumbling into this nightmare! It was all their fault. End of story.

I wasn’t going to note that. Just film whatever and get out with everything I could. My body, my sanity, and most important, my love for living.

But damn!

I turned the corner, another patient rattling his bars and a man in a chair. I paused to examine him, recalling what happens with people in chairs. He wasn’t in a wheelchair though.

“One day. I’ll be free.” I held my breath as he stood and swayed. I should probably not be in his way, let alone be anywhere near him. “You too will see!” He lunged grabbing me by the neck, I held my ground but staggered back with a low gurgle. I couldn’t get his grip off, I felt my neck being crushed as a soft bubbling filled my ears.

I released his arms and took his throat in my hands, my vision distorted as I squeezed with everything in me. I envisioned myself wringing a wet rag, trying to get every little drop of water out. Tighter and tighter digging my fingernails in to reinforce my grip and twist all the moisture free. I felt my lips draw back as I grit my teeth tight enough it felt like my skull would shatter.

His grip loosened a little, allowing my mind to clear. I stepped back, my heel hit the bars of the cell behind me and inside the man muttered about sheep and followers. I braced my shoe between the bars and pushed with my fading strength.

The man toppled backwards hitting the rail and plummeted. I collapsed near the path staring over the edge, but I couldn’t see where he had fallen. I pulled myself forward and managed to get on my feet, a little wobbly but I’d walk it off. Below, I could see where he had fallen.

“Do you itch? You look like you have an itch.”

I didn’t have the heart to tell straightjacket, his new friend was dead.

I pressed my forehead down on my cold hands curled over the rail and zoned out, not staring at anything in particular. I let the noises of the patients fade, let everything swarming my head turn gray. I had a sudden attack of nausea but I didn’t feel like moving to settle myself, I felt rotten about what I had done. As if this should have some sort of impact on my life and I was letting it roll on by, like water off a ducks back. Incredible, the guy tries to kill me, and I felt bad about throwing him to his death. It was an accident anyway.

I took a deep breath through my mouth and let it out. Just keep moving, don’t overthink what I see. Filter. Filter. Healthy thoughts. Sane thoughts.

Was it insane I had to keep reminding myself of this?

Ahead, the path ended but what was left along the wall seemed stable enough. It was a portion of the floor that looped around the block, cracked and fallen due to whatever happened to this place. It looked recent, I wasn’t quite certain myself anymore. Murkoff reported one thing, the patients recollected another. I had taken note that there was fewer of Murkoff staff in this area, aside from the guard that might have been hiding here or searching for a way out. Murkoff must have stored the patients in this area and abandoned them before the disaster.

That didn’t matter at this point, speculations and theories was my fuel and I was running low. My only concern at this time was the set of bars on that path, and the creature patrolling behind them. Just…don’t dawdle, he might not even notice me.

I edged onto the footpath and slinked along, gripping the bars behind me whenever I felt my shoes slip. The gap ahead of me didn’t seem too far, a straight jump. I had jumped further in my youth, with more at stake. But the rebar along the side looked cruel, if I hit it with my weight I wouldn’t be worried about the many ways I could die.

I braced myself against the bars and leapt—

Missing!

I fell to my feet and tumbled, barely avoiding the shock that traveled through my body. I leaned over trying to work out the pain in my ribs, and rose to my feet.

I went all the way back to that damn ledge, this time pulling my camera out and making sure I knew where I was going. I couldn’t hesitate, had to get this done and keep going.

“What’s the experiment the dead would perform on the living?” He yelled behind me. “I’ll give you a hint. It’s still happening. The experiment is still happening!”

I hit the ledge and gripped for dear life, my camera still held in my right hand. I unhooked it and pushed it away before I tried to drag myself up. No stopping, not here.

The fingernail on my left hand had snapped, just below the skin line. It hurt whenever I touched it, or when it brushed something, and deemed a mild nuisance as I traveled. I bit it between my teeth and tore it off, taking a bit of skin in the process. It bled some, and I didn’t want to imagine the possible infections I could get roaming the vile surfaces, but survival came first. I wiped it on the inside of my coat where it was mostly clean. After this I was going to get a whole new wardrobe, sentimental value on my coat aside. And shots. Lots antibiotics or whatever.

Once this little crisis was dealt with, I picked up the camera and checked the first set of bars I came upon on my left. Inside was light along with the very helpful phrase Witness written in blood, and a large crimson puddle drying on the floor. It looked fresh, but I didn’t care to confirm this. A man was curled up in the blood, quaking under the bed frame. On the wall across from me was the very cryptic message written, it what might have been authentic black Temper paint, He did not Kill his Enemies. I’m not sure what to make of that, I’m pretty sure all these people were not doing much of anything else

It was against my dear wishes to enter his room, but on the desk there was a file that might shed some insight on this mockery of a hospital. More about the Project Walrider? It seemed whenever I flipped through the pages, more questions arose between the blank lines than what were answered among the staffs reports.

OBITUARY FROM

www.denvereagle.com/obituaries/obituary.aspx?pa ge=lifestory&pd=17827364905

Rudolf G. Wernicke

Dr. Rudolf G. Wernicke, age 90, passed away doing the work he loved on February 28th, 2009. He was born in 1918 in Munich, Germany, and achieved fame in the mathematic and scientific communities for a paper written with early computing pioneer Alan Turing. After a cloudy history with the German war effort, he emigrated to the United States in 1949 with a visa from the State Department. Several decades of government research in Los Almos led to New Mexico, where Dr. Wernicke retired to pursue landscape photography and care for his cats. He came to Colorado shortly after the turn of the millennium to pursue charitable work for the Murkoff Corporation. A statement from the company calls Dr. Wernicke “a true humanitarian with a generous spirit.” He leaves no survivors.

I’m sure his history with Germany was cloudy. They couldn’t have their “true humanitarian” looking bad before he fractured the minds of a couple dozen mentally disturbed people, and a delusional finger painting ‘priest’ guy. What a loud of shit.

“We have faith in all the wrong things. And it will destroy us.”

I looked from the man beneath the bed, and turned with the file to the foul toilet.

That wouldn’t have been very professional, so against my best wishes I left the file on the desk. It would have made me feel better to dump it in that sludge, but if ever there came a day that they might find that file, it had a better chance of being illegible if not soaking up filth.

With a sigh I left the cell, not bothering to shut the door. There was a purge gate a short distance ahead through another segregation gate, but of course it was locked. Might’ve been the one that doctors head was in, I’ll never know. Metal steps from here led to the upper floor, and more aggravated patients hammering at the bars with whatever they could lift.

“It’ll stretch until you snap.”

And fuck you very much, too. I reeled around the nearest corner and found a dead path, broken completely. Unless I wanted to risk climbing the bars, but there was no guarantee there was any way open on that side. I didn’t want to test my bruised arms unless absolutely necessary.

I breezed past the patient, only satisfied he’d probably rot and die in there, but I had nothing to do with that. Camera, night vision, and the comfort that I could see mostly where I was putting my feet. The floor was clear, most of the wreckage had occurred on this floor which would impede my progress. I’d manage though.

Showers. I was supposed to escape through the showers. Or, I was promised there was a way out through the showers. How did I get there from here? They were on the other side, that was my presumption. I needed to find a way through this block, back to them. It felt like I was far off course, I needed to know where I was and where I was going.

As I was passing a set of cells, the patient within opened his door right in front of me. I had to back away or get knocked over the side, this seemed his intention as he stalked towards me, a whirlwind of insanity building in his eyes.

“Don’t you look at me like that. Don’t you fucking think you’re fit to judge me, doctor!”

What the fuck! He swung at me, and I put my arms up protecting my face, and the camera. I shoved it in its pack as I tried to get around him, but he clubbed me in the mouth anyway as I ducked down. “The well was always here, always poisoned.”

I dropped to my knee, but managed to stagger by as he tried to kick me. Was there a way out over here?

Just another ledge that looked too short for my feet, but I took it anyway stuffing my heels back between the bars. “Everyone, over here!”

Fuck him. I scooted along the ledge, using my hands more to hold me steady when I repositioned my heels. I fought with my horrible curiosity to look down and imagine what would happen, as my shoes slid against the loose cement. It was all right, I wouldn’t let go, just had to keep a firm grip on the bars.

A set of arms thrust over my shoulders, grabbing me around the torso. I gagged and grabbed them, shaking until I had bashed the side of his elbow against the bars. I was free, but falling. Twisting, I managed to snag the bars with a hand and swing about to face my attacker. He punched out, and I was forced to twist away again, this time placing my back to a solid, safe wall.

There was very little left of the wall, and it permitted me into the remains of a room with a desk and bed, and toilet. Not much to film, but it was dark and I found myself relying more and more on my camera. Regardless, it was all evidence to use.

I hadn’t really given thought to a lawsuit against Murkoff, even if it were possible. After everything I had seen, everything I had endured, what were they going to give me? Money? Pfft.

There was a small hole knocked into the lower side of the wall, joining it to the next room, but not the one with the psycho that tried to strangle me. I crouched down and peeked inside seeing only a bed and a body under it. I was startled when it cringed away and spoke.

“The doctor told me once, that if you showed a caveman our technology, he would think it was magic. And that if you showed a modern man magic, he would think it was technology.”

Another controversy of the reports, and the recollections of the patience. They had to be talking about Dr. Wernicke, but many believed he was still among them. Performing his experiments?

Dates and details of the Obituary and Death certificate conflicted as well. But why? Why cover up his time of death?

Or did he mean another doctor? That was the higher possibility. But so far, I doubted this.

There was no way out of this room, but for a cell door. By the good grace of god it was unlocked, and I shuffled around the broken floor into an open walkway and solid ground. The cells along this level looked as though their doors had been torn off, but there was no one here. I soon saw why.

One room had a light that still worked, I lowered my camera to peer inside along a red streak that had been painted. For me, for them, for us. It didn’t matter what I thought anymore. This was some sort of calling, a message to gather. The options were follow and see, or remain and rot.

It looked like a body had been dragged here, and pulled down the hole chiseled out in the floor. I couldn’t imagine what had done this work, didn’t want to either. I dropped down the hole into a familiar chamber. Tile walls, and grungy cement floor with a red streak indicating my route.

The egress, I think he called it. Down the drain, follow the blood. I turned the camera up toward my path and paused, I wasn’t sure but it looked like a shape had moved on the wall beneath the steps.

That one other guy had gone the other way, he might still be down here. Just to be certain I took the camera and fiddled with the options and played back to before the end.

The night vision had caught what looked like a shape, something I had seen before. But I couldn’t be sure, it was too obscure and resembled your typical shadow. I exited out and returned it to its regular functions.

I stepped down the steps listening for any sounds, the rumble of thunder came through causing me to pause and wait as the lights dimmed. There was safety in the dark but I needed batteries to implement it fully. At the base of the steps I saw only a crimson pool awaiting on the cracked tile. Smelt like soured water and mildewed gym socks, and bad meat. When I reached the bottom I saw in full the horror left to me. Entrails and a spinal cord ripped apart, looked like somebody mopped the floor with innards. All over the lockers and walls were written the words

Walrider

On one side was a symbol, vaguely reminding me of the atom. Perhaps it meant a similar form, a poison or contamination. Murkoff had called it ‘Environment contamination.’ I made certain to film everything, the bloody footprints, the God the ‘Father’ praised, and what he believed was its work.

“The word “Walrider” is all over this place. Murkoff was running an experiment here called PROJECT WALRIDER, but the patients talk about the Walrider like it’s a physical presence. A spirit or demon. Something they found in the mountain. I’d chalk it up to schizophrenic delusion, but I just saw something. Maybe. Maybe it was a glitch in the camera. Or maybe this place is getting to me.”

Yeah, just maybe my coat was beige and had a big blood stain on the back. It was starting to dry, and it smelled almost as bad as this room.

I tried to rationalize what I had seen, it hadn’t been clear in the first place. Just a shadow, the egress guy might’ve been hanging around, or anyone else. Patients were everywhere, they had a habit of showing up where they could do the most harm. Thunder, the lights dimmed from the storm. There was an explanation that I would feel comfortable with, it just needed to sound like more a valid scientific fact rather than coddling bullcrap.

This place was just getting to me.

The showers looked more like a death camp gas chamber. Spouts hung off crooked pipes from the ceiling, and more lockers had been placed at the far end of the dark room. With blood. I saw no handles to turn, water would have been sweet nectar, to clear the taste of blood in my mouth, and a little to clean the camera a bit, but it was not to be.

There was another battery that had fallen from a locker, which I took. I couldn’t have too many in this place.

I stood beside the egress staring down into the chiseled cement, attempting to fathom in my scarce knowledge how these people might have managed this. Where would it lead me? Down the drain, it was the only way out. Why? To what purpose? Why the elaborate detour through hell?

To find whatever it was the Father wished me to see? This Walrider? I doubted it. But a part of me felt that this was his Calling for me. Ever since he discovered me in the main lobby, he had orchestrated this all out. My path, the patients, the messages. I was here to see something, and I was seeing too much of it.

#miles upshure #outlast #outlast novelized #outlast fanfiction

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