#It took like 2 hours for the paint to dry so I just sat there and watched it.

[rendoa-blog]

Aphra! (IMV!Dust)

First time drawing one of Icarus's little guys!

Up first, Aphra having a breakdown!

And it's painted!

(Og Dusttale by ask-dusttale, even if this is majorly fanonized lol)

[fortheloveofwonderland]

Somewhere to Belong | 2/3 | S.R

Part 2 of my Family Challenge Fic.

Part 1 | Part 3

Summery - Spencer moves into his new home and his friends express their concerns. His adoption process hits wall after wall and each time you’re the one he turns to.

Pairing - Spencer Reid x BAU Fem! Reader

Warnings - talk of break ups, arguing, tears, swearing, mentions of Spencer’s childhood, drinking, drunk Spencer, talk of potential relapse, crying child, NA meetings.

WC - 7.9k

Part 2

It took until the end of April, around the time flowers started to rebloom and the grass turned a lush shade of green, when he finally got the keys to his new home. 

It felt fitting, the way the world was regrowing, starting a new beginning just as he was. 

He’d taken the first offer that came on his apartment, not caring that it was less than he would have liked for it. He had enough money saved from over the years that he could cover the difference needed. Time was of the essence, he couldn’t wait around. 

The team, now all apprised of his adoption intentions, helped him move on a rare weekend they had off from the BAU. Well all of them except for you anyway. 

Luke and Matt did most of the heavy lifting, much to Spencer’s elation as honestly he had no idea how he’d planned on doing it himself. 

Rossi, Emily and Tara helped fix together furniture while he and JJ started on painting the room that would hopefully one day belong to Wren. 

It broke her heart a little as she aided him in filling the little bookshelf with all the girls favourite titles and putting stuffed animals on another shelf all of which he’d brought for her. 

Because what happened if Wren didn’t come home to him? What on Earth would be left of her best friend if he wasn’t able to adopt her? 

He’d spent nearly all his savings on this house and furnishing it, even stencilling Wren’s name above the bed. She knew there would be no coming back for him if this didn’t work out. She would help in any way she could but she wished he was erring on the side of caution more. 

After hours spent getting Spencer’s new home in order, Rossi cooked them all carbonara alla Rossi which they all sat down to eat as a family. 

Minus you. 

And your absence was brought up about halfway through dinner. 

“I have to ask,” it was Tara who finally dared broach the subject that was on the tip of everyone’s tongues. “Y/N was really cagey when we told her about today. She said she had plans but wouldn’t say what they were.” 

“Did something happen between the two of you?” JJ added over her glass of wine. 

Honestly Spencer didn’t really see the point in lying about it. Whatever happened between the two of you was over now so he supposed it didn’t matter if the team knew. 

He put his cutlery down, leaning it on the edges of his plate and taking a sip of water. He leant on the table and cleared his throat. 

“Uh well…we were dating.” He shrugged. “For a few months. But it’s over now.” 

The members of his former team all exchanged looks, silently questioning each other to see if anyone had any idea. It seemed none of them did. 

“Wow, I’m kinda impressed you managed to keep that from us.” Emily chuckled dryly. 

“Me too.” Spencer replied. 

“What happened?” Matt asked the million dollar question. 

Again, Spencer didn’t see the point in lying. It wasn’t as though there were two sides to this story, it was cut and dry; about as straightforward as it could be. 

“I wanted a family. She wasn’t ready. I guess that’s on me for choosing to date someone so much younger than me.” He shrugged again, trying to act as if he didn’t care. 

“So you broke up because of Wren?” JJ asked him softly. 

“Yes and no. I’d already mentioned having a family before Wren came into the picture and she freaked out. And then Wren came along and I realised it was perfect timing. But uh, I guess my decision to adopt her didn’t exactly help matters.” He picked his knife and fork back up, hoping if he resumed eating they would understand he didn’t want to talk about this. 

“You’re sure about this right, Reid?” Luke dared to ask. 

Spencer huffed and dropped his cutlery again, letting them angrily clang against the China plate. 

“Am I sure about what, Alvez?” He shot Luke a look across the table none of the team had ever seen on Spencer before. “About my break up or about adopting Wren?” 

Luke shrunk in on himself a little, Spencer’s gaze heavily upon him. He’d hoped maybe someone else would jump to his rescue but no one did. 

Cowards.

“Any of it.” Luke’s voice cracked as he spoke. “We’re your friends and we want you to be happy, but I think I speak for everyone when I say this is all happening so fast.” 

Spencer’s nostrils flared. His jaw tightened. One by one he looked at the former members of his team under a steely gaze. 

“Does he speak for all of you?” Spencer spat. “Someone please speak up. If you all think I’m making such a huge mistake, please-”

“No one said it was a mistake, boy wonder, chill.” Garcia piped up, cutting Spencer off. “But Newbie is right, it’s so fast. Have you really stopped and taken a breath to think about it?”

“You’ve decorated her room, Spence and you don’t even know that you’ll get granted parental rights. What happens if you don’t? It’s going to crush you.” JJ added, her tone sombre. 

“And if you do manage to get through the adoption process, you’ll have a five year old girl to take care of. A five year old girl who lost her parents in the most horrific way possible.” Tara chimed in, tone equally as morose and JJ’s. 

“And you’ll be doing it alone. On top of a full time job at the university.” It was Rossi’s turn to speak. 

“We’ll support you whatever you do, Reid. We’re just worried that this is some kind of…a, uh…” Emily trailed off, looking at the others for help with finishing her sentence. 

But Spencer knew exactly what she wanted to say. 

He slammed his hands on the table and pushed his seat back, the wooden chair legs scraping against the tiled floor aggressively. 

“Just say it,” he growled, with a shake of his head. “You’re worried I’m having a mid life crisis, right?” 

He got to his feet and glared down at his so-called friends in disdain. 

“No one said it was a mid life crisis, kid.” Rossi sighed as though Spencer was some kind of nuisance child. 

“You didn’t need to say it. You’re all thinking it.” He grunted. 

“Spence,” Emily looked sadly at him. “We’re just worried about you.”

“I don’t need you to be worried about me, I am perfectly fine. Why is it such a big deal that I’m doing this? You know I’ve always wanted kids.” 

“Not like this though.” JJ rolled her lip between her teeth. “I have absolutely no doubt you will be a good father, someday. This…it doesn’t seem right.” 

“Thank you all for coming,” Spencer forced his anger down before he said something he would regret. “But I’d like you all to leave now.” 

He turned his back on them, the way they had all metaphorically turned their backs on him, and stormed to the kitchen. 

The rest of them silently decided among themselves who would be the one to go after him. Usually the job would fall to JJ but she knew Spencer was too angry with her right now. 

Eventually Penelope exhaled and pushed her chair gently back before getting to her feet. She didn’t look at the others as she left, tottering on her too high heels as she followed in Spencer’s wake. 

He heard the door swing open, heard her heels on the floor so he knew it was her. He gripped the counter top, his back to her. 

“Please don’t try to make it better, Garcia.” He spoke without turning. 

He heard her come closer and then there was a warm hand on his shoulder, turning him around. When she saw his face, the tears that were now rolling down his cheeks, her own face fell. 

“Oh boy wonder,” she pouted, immediately throwing her arms around him. 

Spencer sniffed, burying his head against Garcia’s shoulder and wrapping his arms around her waist. 

“I understand what you’re all saying, trust me I get how crazy this sounds.” He whimpered a little. “But I love that little girl. And I want to be her father more than anything else in the world.”

“I know you do, Reid.” She cooed, running her hand up and down his back. “We just worry about you is all. No one is saying you shouldn’t do this, we just want to make sure you’re certain of what you’re doing.” 

“Penelope,” he raised his head so he could look her in the eyes. “I have never been more sure about a single thing in my life.” 

Garcia smiled at him softly, wiping away the tear stains on his cheeks. 

“That’s good enough for me.” She placed a gentle kiss on his forehead. “Anything you need, Spencer, just say the word. If you need any red tape cutting through, I am a master of that.”

“Thanks Garcia.” He half-smiled. “I’ll bear that in mind.” 

Garcia kindly corralled the others out of Spencer’s door and stayed to help him clean up. By the time she left he was utterly exhausted. 

He climbed the stairs, running his fingers along the bannister, feeling his way in his new home. He bypassed his own bedroom and found himself in the room he’d slaved away to make perfect for Wren. 

He collapsed on her small bed, the one with the My Little Pony bedspread, clutching one of many stuffed toys he’d brought for her. 

He closed his eyes and he nuzzled against the pillow. If he concentrated hard enough he could feel her here in this room she’d never actually stepped foot in. 

He could hear her heart warming giggle, smell her on the pillow. He could imagine her crawling under the pink pony bedspread, lying beneath a string of pumpkin fairy lights while he read to her. 

He could hear her inquisitive line of questioning every time he reached the end of a page. 

He could picture her hugging Rover tightly to her chest while her bright green eyes slowly closed. 

His tears fell from behind his closed lids. His friends were right and he hated that. 

He’d gone through all this trouble, all the time, money and effort but what if it proved fruitless? What if he never got to bring Wren home? 

What if he was doomed to live in this large house all alone for the rest of his days, pinning for the life he could have had?

***

Two days later a social worker came round to do her initial assessment of his new home. He didn’t miss the small smile that crept to her face when she saw the room he hoped to be Wren’s.

He made tea and sat down in his new living room with Jenny, Wren’s permanent social worker and tried to mentally prepare himself for another grilling. 

The application process itself had been particularly probing but he knew this would be worse. Garcia had emailed him over a list of potential questions which he’d tried to cultivate answers for ahead of time but right now everything went out of his head.

Jenny sipped her tea and retrieved a notebook and pen from her bag. 

“So, shall we?” She smiled at him but it didn’t help alleviate his nerves. 

“Sure.” He nodded, shakily smiling back. He drummed his fingers against his thighs. 

“I’d like to know what your childhood was like, if you could, Doctor Reid.” 

Fuck, what a place to start.

“Well,” he swallowed thickly. “It wasn’t exactly conventional. I’m sure you know about my mother from my application.” 

“I do.” She nodded, pen poised above the page. 

“Uh, I was pretty much responsible for myself from ten years old when my dad left. And I was also responsible for my mom. I’ve never really had anyone to depend on and on top of that I’ve had to look after a parent. I guess the parental roles got slightly tangled in my head somewhere, but I think it’s why I’m so determined to do right by Wren. She’s lost her parents and I just want her to have a family again. I want to be her family. I want to be the father I never had.” He took a big sip of tea as a way of indicating that he was finished. 

Jenny jotted down some notes before looking back at him.

“So what’s your relationship with them like now? Your parents?” 

“I’ve only ever seen my dad once since he walked out on us.” When I was accusing him of being a child molestor and a murderer. “I’m really close with my mom though. She’s in a facility in DC and I visit her once a week. She’d love Wren, I think Wren would love her too.” 

“I think you’ve already kind of covered the effect your upbringing had on you, so I’d be interested to know what a day in the life of Spencer Reid looks like.” She paused her note taking again to look at him. 

“I’m still getting used to that myself if truth be told. I left the BAU after fifteen years so I could have a job with more reliable hours for Wren. I lecture four days a week at Marlborough, I’m a criminology professor. Monday, Tuesday, Wednesday and Friday. Thursdays are usually paperwork and grading papers but I can do that from home. 

It’s normal hours, I can be here in the morning to take Wren to school and be here to pick her up and cook her dinner. Read her bedtime stories. She likes it when we read together. She has this incredible mind, she reminds me of me when I was a kid. She’s so curious and smart. She loves to learn and I love to teach and I…I’m rambling. Sorry.” 

“It’s ok.” Jenny smiled softly. “Doctor Reid, no one is doubting the fact that you care deeply for this little girl. No one would be going through the lengths you’re going through for a flight of fancy. I’m just simply trying to ascertain the best fit for a frightened and traumatised little girl who lost everything.” 

“And I might not be the best fit.” He sniffed, eyebrows knitting together. “Because it’s just me. Because she lost not only her dad but her mom too and you think she needs two parents.” 

He was a profiler for so many years, he couldn’t just turn it off. He understood the things she wasn’t saying. 

Jenny put her pen down and leant forward in the chair. 

“I have no doubts that you love Wren, Doctor Reid.” She prefaced. “But unfortunately in these kinds of delicate situations we have to consider where the child has been. And where Wren has been was in a home with two loving parents.” 

The tears flooded to Spencer’s eyes in a flash and he fought to keep them at bay. He rolled his lip violently between his teeth to try and stop them falling. 

He tried to speak a few times but the words wouldn’t come out. He closed his eyes. Took a deep breath. 

“What are, uh, what are my chances here?” He croaked. 

“I don’t know, Doctor Reid.” Jenny sighed. “I have no doubts you would be a great fit for some child out there but maybe…maybe don’t set your sights on Wren.” 

He opened his eyes again, the tears broke free. 

“I don’t want another child. It’s not just about having some child.” He suddenly stood up. “The moment I met her I felt an intrinsic need to protect her. She is special and she is wonderful and I…I feel like her dad, don’t you understand? I love her as if she were my flesh and blood. I don’t want a child, I want Wren.” 

Jenny inhaled sharply and pushed herself to her feet, slotting her notebook back in her bag. 

“I’m not saying it won’t happen, Doctor Reid. But you need to be prepared for the fact it might not.” She shook her head sadly. “We can pick this up later in the week ok? I’ll call you.” 

Spencer couldn’t get any words out to reply. He just stood there dumbly and watched the social worker leave. 

He watched her leave him alone in this house, this fucking suburban nightmare of a house that he’d only brought for the sake of Wren.

Wren who he’d promised he would look out for, who he promised he would bring home with him. And now that could all go up in smoke. 

His tears wouldn’t cease, like a never ending waterfall flowing down his face. 

The walls of this goddamn house suddenly felt so small. This house was the last place he wanted to be right now. 

Without much thought to where he was going, he grabbed his car keys before throwing open the front door and disappearing into the balmy spring afternoon. 

***

It was late when the jet touched down and so Emily sent you all home from the air strip telling you all paperwork could wait until the morning. 

You could barely keep your eyes open as you drove home, tired down to your bones. 

When you found a body slumped on the floor using your front door to prop them up right, you could have burst out laughing because this was just perfect. 

His shirt was wrinkled and his hair hung messily in his face. As you approached, he didn’t move, not even an inch. 

You frowned as you fished your keys out of your purse, clearing your throat but he didn’t look up. His head was flopped forward to his chest, hair obscuring most of his face.

“Spencer?” You spoke his name but received no response. “Spencer?” Still nothing. 

Goddamnit. 

“Spencer!” You kicked him firmly in the hip and he wobbled a little and then you heard a sharp intake of air.

His head shot back, his eyes suddenly wide open and staring at you like you’d woken him from a deep sleep. You most likely had. 

“Y/N?” He croaked, running his hand through his hair, eyebrows knitted in confusion. “W-where am I?” 

It was then you realised his bloodshot eyes, red raw and you knew it wasn’t just from crying. 

“Spencer, are you ok?” You swallowed, feeling your hands start to shake. 

“How did I get here?” He squinted at you. 

“I have no idea.” You reached out and grabbed him by the wrist, pulling him to his feet. 

He didn’t make it easy, he was like a led weight in your arms. He stumbled once he was up, falling against your door.

Your heart thrummed against your chest.

“Spencer,” you swallowed again. “Are you…are you high?” 

He averted his gaze to the floor, a symbol of guilt you knew all too well. But then he looked back at you and sighed.

“No.” He pinched the bridge of his nose. “I appreciate that’s what it must look like. I’m…drunk. Really fucking drunk. Not high. I swear.” 

Oh thank god, you allowed yourself to breathe a sigh of relief. Half a sigh anyway.  

“That’s probably not much better though right? You don’t drink.” 

“True.” He nodded. “But if I didn’t drink I might have gotten high. I don’t even know how I ended up here. Or how long I’ve been here.” 

This seemed way over your head, a job for JJ or Emily, not you. You didn’t know how to handle this, you weren’t equipped for it. 

You knew about Spencer’s history with dilaudid, he’d told you he didn’t drink on your first date when you’d asked him what wine he wanted with dinner. He proceeded to tell you he didn’t drink because of his past addiction, he didn’t want to find himself dependent on something else again. 

But here he was, drunk. Drunk and telling you he’d thought about getting high. And you had no idea what to do. 

“Come inside.” You got your door open and helped him inside as he couldn’t walk in a straight line. You guided him with an arm around his waist to the couch where he fell down like a rag doll. “Should I call JJ? Emily?”

“No, p-please don’t.” He whined, his words slurring together. 

“Spencer, I don’t know that I’m the best person to handle this. Do you need a meeting or something?” 

“I haven’t been to a m-meeting in over ten years.” He slurred again. 

You had to strain yourself to understand him, all his sentences sounding like one long word. You sat down on the coffee table in front of him and sighed. 

“Why did you drink? Why did you want to get high?” Maybe you could help if you understood why. Probably not, but it was worth a shot. 

He ran his fingers through his tangled hair, sweeping it back off of his face. It struck you then how old he suddenly looked, like he’d somehow aged thirty years since you’d last seen him. 

“I…my social worker…she thinks…” his sentence was punctuated with heaving breaths, as though trying to stop himself breaking down into tears. “I might not be able to a-adopt Wren.” 

Ah, so that’s what this was about. 

The last time you’d seen him you’d argued over this exact thing. So why of all people were you the one he’d come to? 

“I see.” You didn’t know what to say if truth be told. Thankfully he continued. 

“She grew up in a t-two person household. J-Jenny thinks it's more likely they will place her in a home with two p-parents.” It was the most coherent he’d been, which was good. But he sounded so unbelievably sad. “I get it. I do. I w-want what’s best for her…but w-what if that’s not what’s best for m-me?” 

You felt your heart ripping in two. It was painfully obvious how much this girl meant to him and you hated seeing him this way. Again you didn’t need to speak as he carried on. 

“It’s ironic, you know? The only reason I even w-want to adopt is because I can’t h-hold down a relationship, c-can’t seem to find someone to have my own family with. And now it m-might be the reason I can’t adopt.” His breathing grew really frantic and you could see the tears welling in his eyes. 

You really did hate that he was going through this. You leant forward and placed a gentle hand on his knee.

“I really wish I knew what to say.” You whispered. “I really am so sorry Spencer. I know I was less than thrilled with the idea but I can see how much she means to you.” 

“Just wanted to take my mind o-off of it.” He mumbled. “Just needed to forget. Wanted to get high, for the f-first time in years. Didn’t though. I didn’t.” 

“I know. I’m proud of you.” You gave his knee a squeeze. “But getting drunk isn’t going to help anything, you know that right?” 

“Yes.” He sniffed. “Just wanted to forget.” 

Suddenly he jerked forward, his large hands gripping the sides of your face and tugging you closer until his lips slammed against yours. 

He tasted like whisky. Whisky and tears. 

You were so gobsmacked for a moment you let him kiss you. But once your brain caught up to what was happening, you quickly pushed him away.

“What are you doing?” You frowned at him. 

His eyes widened as the realisation of his stupidity washed over him and he stumbled up to his feet. 

“Oh my god.” He shook his head frantically. “What am I doing? I’m so sorry, I should…should go…” 

His shaky legs tried to carry him to the door but you managed to jump up and grab his wrist before he could get too far. 

When he looked back at you his cheeks were bright red with his embarrassment and he struggled to look you in the eye. 

“Don’t go.” You spoke softly. “I can’t let you roam the streets in this state. Stay, you can sleep on the couch. We’ll forget that ever happened.” 

He pulled a face like he might argue with you and maybe if he hadn’t had so much to drink he may have. 

But god knows where else he could end up with the alcohol clouding his brain, he was sure he hadn’t meant to come here in the first place. 

He exhaled and nodded slowly, moving away from the door and further into your apartment. 

“I really am sorry about Wren. But it’s not over, Spencer. You have to try and stay positive. For her.” You whispered before you turned away to gather blankets for your ex’s drunken stay on your couch. 

***

In the morning you found your couch empty, blankets and pillows piled neatly at one end and a small scrap of note paper on top. 

In Spencer’s chicken scratch handwriting you read: 

Thank you for last night. I thought it best I leave before you wake up. I am absolutely mortified about my actions. I should have known better even in the state I was in. 

I’m sorry for putting you in that position and for making you feel as though you had to let me stay. I’m sorry if I made you uncomfortable. 

I’m sorry for everything. 

Spencer. 

Everything; he was sorry for everything. 

Sorry for blurting out that he wanted a family? Sorry for reacting the way he did when you told him you weren’t ready? Sorry for calling whatever the two of you had a waste of time? Sorry for diving head first into adopting a little girl without telling you? 

You folded up the note and hid it away in your nightstand. You considered calling him but you were fairly certain he wouldn’t pick up. 

You made coffee and ate breakfast, all the while Spencer’s heartbreak over potentially losing that little girl was weighing on you. 

There had to be something you could do to help him. Anything. You would do anything for him. 

You took your coffee over to the desk and booted up your laptop. Even as your fingers were hovering over the keys, you weren’t sure why exactly you were doing this. 

Other than the fact you hated to see Spencer so sad. 

***

It was deep into the month of June when Spencer was allowed to take Wren out of the halfway home for the first time. 

Jenny accompanied them but assured him she was just here to supervise and she wouldn’t get involved. 

He’d tried to remain positive, the fact they were allowing him to still see her, to take her out of the home surely meant all was not lost? Maybe he still had a chance to be her father. 

The first place Wren wanted to go was for ice cream. He told her they could go anywhere she wanted and she wanted ice cream. 

So he took her for ice cream. 

She couldn’t decide what she wanted so he brought her seven different little cups of seven different flavours. She ate each one with a smile on her face and apparently each one was better than the last. 

Hopped up on sugar, he took her to the park. She held his hand as they walked and hers was so tiny in his. It made his heart soar, spiralling up into the atmosphere and blanketing him in a warmth he’d never felt before. 

He pushed her on the swing set while she giggled and screamed to go higher. He caught her in his arms at the bottom of the slide which she went down twenty two times. 

And each of the twenty two times he caught her, wrapping her small body in his arms, picking her up and spinning her around causing more laughter to erupt from her. And each time when he placed her back on her feet she screamed, again! 

He held her little waist while she attempted the jungle gym, not having the upper body strength to hold herself up. 

Once he settled her back on the ground and asked her what she wanted to do next. Her expressive eyes wandered the park, the little cogs in her brain turning while she tried to make a decision. 

But then something horrible happened. 

When her eyes finally landed back on Spencer, he saw the tears behind them a split second before they started falling. Her bottom lip pouted and her small frame started to shake violently. 

“Wren?” Spencer immediately knelt in front of her in the grass and placed his hands on her shoulders. 

She was vibrating, sniffing dramatically and shaking her head, curls bouncing as she did so. 

“Wren, what’s wrong?” He felt his heart shattering as he looked at her. 

“I want to go home!” She screamed, so loudly Spencer was sure he felt an ear drum burst.

Before he could reply she had pulled herself out of his grip, turned away and started running as fast as her legs would carry her. 

“I want to go home!” She screeched as she went. 

Spencer pushed himself up and suddenly Jenny was at his side. He barely registered her until she spoke. 

“What happened?” She asked almost accusingly. 

“I have no idea.” He shook his head, not taking his eyes off of Wren who was running towards the tree line at the edge of the park. “Let me go, I’ll find out what’s wrong.”

He didn’t wait for Jenny to reply before he took off running after her. Spencer had never relished running or any kind of physical exertion. In his time with the BAU he’d avoided it at all costs. 

But right now he didn’t care. He would run to the ends of the Earth if he had to just to find Wren. Thankfully he didn’t have to. 

He found the small raven haired girl collapsed at the trunk of a large tree, legs drawn up to her chest and she sobbed into the fabric of her cream coloured leggings. 

Her cries were so loud, so gut wrenching that he could have burst into tears just from the sound. She looked utterly helpless and Spencer wanted to wrap her in his arms and shield her from all the bad in the world. 

But he wasn’t so sure that’s what she wanted. 

He approached her with caution, not wanting to startle her. When he reached her, he dropped to the grass in front of her on his knees. Slowly he reached out and brushed her tangled curls behind her ear. 

“Pumpkin, what’s wrong?” He whispered soothingly, hooking his finger under her chin and raising her head so he could look at her. 

Those electrifying green eyes were made almost blindingly bright by her tears. 

“The lady,” she sniffed, lips still pouted. “The lady by the swing set. She looked like my mommy.” 

Fuck. 

He felt a lump form in his throat. Sometimes she was so happy and upbeat it was easy for him to forget what had happened to her parents. She was so brave, so strong, but he couldn’t imagine the kind of inner turmoil she battled with everyday. 

“Oh, Wren. I’m so sorry.” He started to brush away her tears but she surprised him when she huffed and shoved his hand off of her face. 

“Stop it.” She frowned at him. “I want to go home!” 

“Wren,” he tried to ignore the pain of having her push him away. “We’ve talked about this. You said you understood that you couldn’t go home.” 

“I don’t care!” She yelled, slamming her little fists in the dirt. “I want to go home! I want my mommy and daddy!”

Spencer felt a presence somewhere behind them, he knew it was Jenny. He hoped she’d let him handle this. 

“Wren, I know this must be hard for you…” he trailed off when the little girl pushed herself to her feet. Spencer stayed on his knees. 

“I want my mommy and daddy!” She screamed at the top of her small lungs.  

“I know you do, pumpkin but-”

“Stop calling me pumpkin.” She huffed again, stamping her foot. 

“I thought…I thought you liked me calling you pumpkin?” His chest tightened, his heart breaking. 

“Well I don’t.” She folded her arms dramatically over her chest, stomped her foot again.

“Ok, that’s ok. I won’t call you it anymore if you don’t like it.” He spoke softly, he hoped calmly. 

“I don’t like you.” She suddenly spat, eyes sad and eyebrows knitted together. 

The pain that shot to his heart hearing those words was like nothing Spencer had ever experienced before. It was as though she had taken her tiny fist and punched him straight in the chest with a force much stronger than herself. 

The air left his lungs, the wind leaving his sails. The hurt caused by those four words was far worse than getting shot, worse than being beaten by Hankel, or the beatings he’d received in prison. Even worse than the mental and emotional anguish of watching Maeve die. 

Her words were like a knife, cutting and ripping at his flesh, slicing him open and leaving him completely raw. 

“W-Wren…” he choked out, his pain evident in his voice. “I know you’re sad but please don’t say that. It’s not a very nice thing to say.”

“I don’t care!” She screamed again. “I hate you! You’re not my daddy. I want my daddy!” 

She grew hysteric after that, sobbing so frantically nothing she said made sense anymore. He tried to comfort her, to hold her, but she pushed him away each time. 

Eventually he glanced over his shoulder where Jenny was in fact standing and looked forlornly at her from the ground. 

She stepped closer tentatively and crouched next to the screeching child. 

“It’s ok Wren, let’s get you back to the home.” She was able to put her arm around Wren without being pushed away and the little girl buried against her. “I’m sorry Doctor Reid but I need to take her back. I’ll call you tomorrow, ok?” 

Both adults raised to their feet at the same time, Spencer’s tears filled eyes meeting those of the social worker. 

“I…I…” he looked back at Wren who was clinging to Jenny like he was some kind of terrifying monster. He wanted to argue but he could risk further upsetting her. “O-ok.” 

He stood dumbly and watched as Jenny led Wren back across the park. His tears started to fall despite himself and he curled his arms around his body, hugging himself tightly. 

All he wanted in the world was for Wren to be happy. But if she wasn’t happy with him, how did he even begin to be happy without her? 

***

“Thank you for coming with me. I’m sorry I keep dragging you into this.” Spencer averted his gaze to the sidewalk as he ambled along. 

You strolled next to him, curiously watching the side of his face as you sipped your coffee. 

When he’d called you this evening you’d been at the BAU finishing up some paperwork. You hadn’t seen or heard from him since the night he showed up drunk at your apartment and you were surprised to see his name flashing on your phone screen. 

His tone had been frantic down the phone, you only managed to catch every few words. 

Wren hates me. Fucked up. Want to use. 

You managed to get him to calm for long enough to tell you where he was. When you’d hurried to Emily’s office your fear must have been written on your face as all you’d needed to say was, I have to go, Spencer… and she was motioning you out of the door. 

You found him where he’d said he’d be, on a park bench with a bottle of whiskey concealed in a paper bag. 

It was unopened. Small miracles. 

He didn’t tell you what was wrong, instead he asked you to follow him. And you did without question. 

He led you to an old community centre and once inside you understood why. 

You sat and listened as he spoke to the room at Beltway Clean Cops of everything that had happened, right up until this afternoon when Wren had screamed that she hated him and didn’t want him as her dad. 

He told them how he had never wanted to use so badly in over ten years and how he’d gotten drunk a little while ago to stop him getting high. 

Afterwards he left and you followed him again. 

He brought you coffee at a nearby cafe and the two of you walked in the DC night side by side. That was the first time he’d spoken since he addressed the room at Beltway. 

“I’m glad you called actually. I’ve been worried about you.” You kept your eyes on his face but he wouldn’t look at you. “She’s been traumatised, Spence. It sounds like she’s been brave up until now but you and I both know that kind of trauma has to be dealt with eventually. I may not know her but I’m certain she didn’t mean what she said.” 

“What if she did?” His hand tightened around his coffee cup. “What the hell am I supposed to do?”

“You need to give her time, that's all you can do. She needs to feel what happened to her so she can start to move past it.” You wished you had a better answer. 

“So I’m just supposed to wait? I can’t do that, I have to do something.” 

You reached for him, touching the back of his free hand. He slowed to a stop and you did the same. Finally his eyes flit up to you. 

“You know the Serenity Prayer, right? They use it in drug rehabilitation.” You kept your hand on his, he didn’t seem to mind. 

“Of course I do.” He frowned a little. 

“I know you’re not religious, but I need you to say it with me. I need you to hear it.” You turned his hand over so you could hold it. 

He looked like he might argue, huffing out a breath before he rolled his eyes. 

“Fine.” He agreed although clearly not happily. 

“God, grant me the serenity to accept the things I cannot change, the courage to change the things I can, and the wisdom to know the difference.” You spoke in time with one another, keeping eye contact as you did so. 

“You have to grant your own serenity, Spencer. You have to accept that you can’t change some things no matter how much you want to. I know it’s hard, but some things are out of your control.” You went to remove your hand from his but he surprised you by keeping a firm hold on you. 

“I don’t know what I’d do without you.” He spoke quietly, his eyebrows still knitted together. “You’re the wind beneath my wings, keeping me airborne when I feel like I might start free falling. You’re…you’re my favourite person in the whole goddamn world.”

“And you’re mine.” You smiled at him, squeezing his hand. “I want this to work out for you but if it doesn’t, you have to be able to bounce back. You just have to.” 

“I know.” He agreed with a nod. “Thank you Y/N.”

He let go of your hand but was quickly wrapping his arm around you, pulling you close to his chest. In turn you wrapped your free arm around him too and you held each other tightly. 

“You’ll be ok Spencer. I’m sure of it.” You whispered against his shirt. 

“I hope so.” He nodded, inhaling the scent of your hair. “Can I…can I call you tomorrow after I’ve spoken to Jenny? Good or bad?” 

You lifted your head so you could look at him, a gentle smile on your lips. 

“You can call me any time, Spencer. I mean it.”

You noticed the way his eyes grazed over your lips and you thought he might kiss you. And this time you might have let him.

He wanted to kiss you, he almost kissed you, but he knew it wasn’t fair on either of you. You were one of those things he needed the serenity to accept he couldn’t change. 

He swallowed thickly and stepped back from your hold, awkwardly scratching at the back of his neck. 

“Can I walk you to your car?” He asked, eyes once again on the sidewalk.

“Sure.” You nodded and soon the two of you fell in step again and neither of you spoke until you said your goodbyes at your vehicle. 

You drove away knowing you had to do more. You’d already started making provisions, taking steps in order to help your most favourite person. But you needed to do more. 

And you needed to do it fast. 

***

The following day Jenny called him and asked him to come to the halfway home. He was nervous, having no idea what to expect when he got there. 

It wasn’t Jenny that met him in the day room though, it was Wren. 

She had her curly hair in pigtails and she wore a cute pair of denim overalls with a polka dot shirt underneath. She had a shy smile on her lips, one hand clutching Rover by the ear and the other held a sheet of paper. 

“Hi Wren,” Spencer cautiously stepped closer to her, wanting to give her space. 

She proffered the paper towards him without a word, which he took and scrutinised. 

On one half of the page was another of her crayon drawings, this one depicting a small dark-haired child cuddling an extremely tall man, taller than the trees he was standing next to. 

On the other in orange crayon was a note, every word spelled correctly, he wasn’t sure if she was just that smart or if she had help. It didn’t matter much either way, what mattered were the words themself. 

To: Spencer

From: Wren

I’m sorry for being mean to you. I don’t hate you and I still want to live with you in the pretty house. I miss my mommy and daddy but I still want us to be a family.

He felt the tears filling his eyes before he reached the end and once he’d read it through a handful of times he looked back up at Wren who waited patiently for him to finish. 

“You’re sure?” His voice cracked, betraying him. 

“Yes.” She nodded, pigtails bouncing, 

“Come here,” he sniffed, holding his arms open for her to make the first move.

She was quick to come closer, falling into Spencer and wrapping her small arms around his waist while he enveloped her in a tight embrace. 

“God I love you kiddo.” He blurted out, as she snuggled against him. He’d never told her that before, always too scared of what a five year olds reaction would be to that.

She squeezed him as tight as she was able, nuzzling her head into his stomach.

“I love you, Spencer.” She replied and Spencer felt the pieces of his shattered heart fall back into place. “And I do like it when you call me pumpkin.”

Spencer held her tighter still, feeling as though his chest could explode with love. He bowed his head and kissed her curls. 

“Ok, pumpkin,” he whispered into her wild hair. “You want me to read to you while I’m here?” 

“Yes please.” She nodded, pulling back from his arms. 

She soon started running away, over towards the couch they usually occupied how he read to her. He glanced down at the piece of paper in his hands and smiled. 

If it was the last thing he did, he was bringing this little girl home. 

***

July came and went in a blur of home visits, parental training, family profile meetings and days out with Wren and Jenny. 

August came and Spencer felt positive. With each passing day he was getting closer and closer to being able to finally bring Wren home. 

But just as quickly as he’d gotten his hopes up, they were dashed again, leaving Spencer spiralling towards a dark abyss with no way to break his fall.

“I’m sorry, could you repeat that?” Spencer stared at Jenny across his coffee table, his mug of tea wobbling in his shaky hands. 

Jenny inhaled, sitting back in the armchair and crossing one leg over the other. 

“I said there’s a young couple who have taken a liking to Wren. They’ve expressed interest in pursuing adoption. They’re already approved, done their home studies and training. They’d just been waiting for the right child.” Jenny braced herself, waited for the doctor's reaction. 

“They’ve met her?” He swallowed.

“Yes, they adore her.” Jenny told him somewhat morosely.

“And Wren?” 

“She seemed to like them.” Jenny smiled sadly at him.

“So, uh, it’s over? Just like that?” The tears misted his eyes but he managed to keep them at bay. 

He recited the serenity prayer in his head like a mantra. 

God, grant me the serenity to accept the things I cannot change, the courage to change the things I can, and the wisdom to know the difference.

“It’s not over, Doctor Reid. And if you wish to still pursue your adoption you are well within your right to. But you’re entitled to know what’s going on and I’ve said before-”

“The state will be more likely inclined to place her in an environment similar to where she came from. Two parents instead of one.” His voice was monotone, not an ounce of emotion to it. 

“I’m afraid so.” 

Spencer wanted to cry. He wanted to laugh. He wanted to scream and break something. He wanted to drink or take dilaudid. 

God, grant me the serenity to accept the things I cannot change. 

“O-ok.” He croaked. 

“Ok?” Jenny frowned at him, clearly expecting him to put up more of a fight. 

“I want what’s best for Wren above all else. Maybe two parents can give her more than I can.” He choked back a sob. “I’ll keep fighting for her, to the bitter end. But if it doesn’t work in my favour there’s nothing I can do, right? I have to accept the things I can’t change.” 

“For what it’s worth,” Jenny pushed herself to her feet. “I’m rooting for you. But there’s only so much I can do.” 

“Thank you.” He stood as well. 

He saw her out and padded back to the couch, running his fingers through his tangled hair. 

It was only then he realised how exhausted he was. These last few months had taken everything out of him, physically and mentally. He’d continue to go through the motions in the hopes this might end in his favour but honestly, he couldn’t keep fighting the way he had been. 

He loved Wren, with every beat of his heart. But perhaps it wasn’t meant to be. Maybe he was never supposed to have a family.

He grabbed his phone and typed out a quick text, hit send and closed his eyes. 

Before he could succumb to sleep, there was a knock at his green front door. 

@ultragirrl @wittlewowa @bxtchopolis @coldheartedmar

[kissorkill16]

We Met Again: A Hello Neighbor Fanfic

By JJ

Summary: 2 friends meet again after years of separation.

21 year old Trinity Bales was sitting down at a table at Starbucks, reading a book, eating her chocolate chip cookie and waiting on her coffee.

About half an hour later, a man in an apron came to her, holding her latte.

"Here's your drink. I'll bring you the bill when you're finished.", he said. "Also, it's a company policy to ask customers to remember to throw away your trash."

Trinity looked up, "Thank you, sir."

She was about to take her coffee, but then she took a closer look at the man that served her drink.

He looked different, but almost familiar.

"Nicky?", she whispered.

The man stilled in surprise, but then he took a closer look at the woman.

"Trinity?!", he almost shouted.

Trinity stood up, and she had such a strong urge to just hug the pale man, or shake him.

It's been years since they've last seen each other. Nicky moved away from Raven Brooks when he was 13, and Trinity was left with the rest of the squad to investigate other mysteries of this messed up town.

"Oh my God, I haven't seen you in so long!", said Nicky. "Also, not to be rude, but I go by Nick now. Nicky was a childish boy.", he pointed to his name tag. "See?"

Trinity put her hands on her hips and tilted her head to the side, "Okay then, Nick. How have you been?"

"I've been okay. Just trying to get by in life like every other human being. I work here during the day and I work at a liquor store by night.", Nick let out a dry laugh. "Sometimes I get free drinks."

Trinity took Nicky's hand and held it in hers. "Do you want to come back to my place after work?"

Nick felt a wave of emotions as Trinity held her hand. It reminded him of the time where she and her friends saved him from the basement of Mr. Peterson's house. Her warm hands on his, covering them like a warm blanket.

"My shift ends at 3:00."

Trinity came back an hour later, ready to pick her friend up. Nick walked over to her car and got in once he saw her wave.

Trinity took Nick to a nice, freshly painted house in Newtown. Nick found it to be beautiful, compared to his old, boarded up, rotting house.

"Wow, Trinity. You really treated yourself.", he said.

"Thanks, Nick."

They got out of the car, and Trinity unlocked the door, and they walked in. They were greeted by a nice, warm feeling of air.

"Woah, sure is toasty in here.", said Nick.

"Yeah.", said Trinity.

They took off their shoes, went to the living room and sat down on the couch. It was silent for a moment before Trinity spoke up.

"Where'd you move to after Raven Brooks?", she asked.

"I don't know, some place in New York. I think it was either Brooklyn or Queens or some shit. Either way, it was New York.", replied Nick. "My parents were able to find a good therapist that wasn't a total creep, or part of a secret cult."

Trinity hummed.

"What about you? Raven Brooks been treating you right?"

"Somewhat.", said Trinity. "Things slowly got rocky in Raven Brooks. We haven't seen anything or heard anything yet, but I still have a weird feeling that there's still something lurking about in this messed up town."

"Trinity, there's always something lurking about in this messed up town."

"I know."

Another moment of silence.

"How's the rest of the gang? You and Enzo together yet?"

Trinity shook her head. "Me and Enzo didn't really work out. He loves me, but I only like him as a friend, so I broke up with him. He's still pretty salty about it, but we're on good terms."

"Damn, that sucks.", said Nick. "I haven't really had much interest in anyone. I've been more focused on work and not having nightmares."

Trinity looked at her friend in worry, "Speaking of which, how've you been...coping with it lately?"

Nicky didn't answer, at least not until he coughed, and a little bit of smoke came out.

"Yeah, I developed a little bit of unhealthy habits before therapy. I'm already paying for that, groceries, and bills, so I don't really have much left over for rehab."

Trinity grew more worried. "You started smoking to cope with your trauma?", she asked. "Nick, that's not healthy."

"It's not just smoking, sometimes it's drinking.", said Nick. As if that made it any better. "And that's only part of the reason why I started."

Trinity crossed her arms. "What's the other reason?", she asked.

Nick sat in silence for a minute, before he flopped into the couch, looking at Trinity. "Because I missed you."

Trinity couldn't believe what she was hearing. Her friend who was a social pariah since the day she met him, the boy who got kidnapped by her crazy neighbor, turned to smoking and drinking to cope with the thoughts of her. "You missed me?"

"It was kinda hard for me not to.", he said. "You were the only one who believed in me, the only one who didn't think I was crazy. When I moved away, all I could think about was you. I know it sounds weird, but it's the truth."

Trinity felt her face grow red.

"But I think I might've had feelings for you before I moved away. I didn't want to say anything since I knew Enzo had a massive crush on you. But every time you hold my hand, I feel all warm and fuzzy inside.", he said.

Trinity smiled, her face growing more red.

"I missed you too, Nicky. You're one of the best people I've ever met.", she said.

Nick smiled at her, but wasn't prepared for what she did next.

Trinity pounced on the man, and shoved her mouth onto his, but quickly pulled away once she tasted him.

"EWW! You taste disgusting.", she said.

"Well, yeah. What did you expect?", Nick sassed at her.

"I'll pay for your rehab and get you some help.", said Trinity. "But first..."

She continued to devour the man, and Nick didn't even mind one bit that this happened.

Boy, was he happy to be back.

[duckies-minsung-fanclub]

"We met once...in a dream."

HyunLix fanfic

*Requested*

Fluffy (I think?). Could be added onto, but I like how this turned out enough to post it now! If ya want a part 2, just let me know!

Hyunjin woke slowly, wishing he could go back to sleep and finish his dream. He didn’t want to leave the mystery boy that had smiled at him so brightly. His eyes were surrounded by freckles that reminded him of the constellations in the night sky, and Hyunjin wanted so badly to sit for hours and count each freckle slowly just to stare at the boys’ face as long as possible. It was a shame he was just in a dream.

Rolling over and out of bed, Hyunjin shuffled to the bathroom connected to his bedroom. He leaned on the sink, staring groggily into the mirror. The mystery boy smiling at him flashed swiftly in his mind before fading away just as fast. He sighed and decided in order to keep him in his memory he would do what he does best; paint him.

It would be a challenge considering it would all be from memory and from a dream at that. Regardless, he was up for the challenge just to keep a part of the gorgeous human as a memento. Knowing his luck, he wouldn’t dream of him again ever, which disappointed him. He would love nothing more than to have someone like him in his life to show off and hold close. To share sentimental moments with…

“Geez, Hyunjin,” he whispered to himself. “Loneliness doesn’t look good on you.”

After finishing up in the bathroom, he shuffled to the kitchen to make him an iced Americano from the machine a friend had gifted him for his birthday. It was extremely thoughtful, considering he was always drinking them. Having his own machine saved him money, even. He couldn’t thank his friend enough, in his opinion.

Once his coffee was finished, he padded his way into his home studio and set up a large canvas on his easel. He stared at it for a moment, remembering each detail he could as he sipped on his drink. A smile played at his lips as his dream replayed in his head of the boy walking with him in the park, looking up at him with bright eyes and smiling wide. He could almost feel their hands entwined together still. The feeling was comforting. A cold feeling filled his chest when realization hit that he would never feel it in real life.

Nodding his head and taking a deep breath he got to work prepping his canvas and painting. He painted in great detail, as much as he could remember. The way his hair fell perfectly, the way his eyes shone brightly, how each freckle had their own unique shape including the heart shaped one that sat just below one of his eyes. He painted the way his full lips pulled into a beautiful smile, the same smile that gave Hyunjin tiny butterflies in his stomach, even now as he was painting it.

Hours had went by, he knew it. He couldn’t remember the last time he was so engrossed in a painting the way he was with this one. He remembered the sun shining early in the morning and how it threw shadows across the room as it moved in the sky. However, the only light that shone in the room when he finished was the ceiling light fixture that he had recently turned on due to the room becoming dark. He had taken a few breaks to get food, but he barely remembered it. The only proof was the trash that littered the floor around his easel that wasn’t there earlier.

He took a few steps back, examining his work. A proud and satisfied smile creeped onto his face. He had finished it, and his confidence was through the roof. It looked exactly like him. Down to the exact freckle placement. He even captured how the sun highlighted his blonde hair perfectly. How he managed to do so well, he wasn’t sure. It just made the piece that much more meaningful to him, though. Now, he would never forget the mystery boy in his dream.

He stretched and looked at the time. It was well pasted midnight at this point. He decided to call it a night and let his masterpiece dry overnight before doing anything further with it. Taking one last glance, he turned and walked out of the room. His body felt tired, though his mind was hopeful the dream would surface again.

***

The smell of fresh brewed coffee filled Hyunjin’s nose, waking him from his dreamless sleep. He blinked his eyes open, sighing with disappointment. He should have expected not to dream of him again; his mystery dream boy. Still, he would have loved to see him again, to hold his hand and hear his breathy laughter, even in his dream.

Grunting softly, he sat up and swung his legs over the bed. He shuffled out of the room, skipping the bathroom. As he got closer to the kitchen, he heard shuffling and other noises in there. Sleepy confusion made him pause. Did Minho come over in the middle of the night to ransack his kitchen?

He quietly crept into the kitchen and froze. It can’t be…

He turned and rushed to his studio, opening the door and staring at the canvas that he painted on last night. The canvas he spent hours painting on was now blank. He walked up to it and touched it. It was as if he never even prepped it. But he remembers painting every single detail of…

The same boy that was in his kitchen.

He peeked out of his studio room, into the kitchen. The same boy was shuffling around, a white powder littering his gorgeous face. He was mixing something in a large bowl, his focus on the contents he was mixing. Hyunjin slowly made his way back to the kitchen, his curiosity getting the better of him. When he reached the entryway of the room, he stopped and stared.

The boy paused and glanced up, doing a double take of Hyunjin before giving him that same bright smile. His eyes turned into crescents with how wide he smiled at him.

“Good morning,” he greeted, his deep voice like velvet. “Would you like some coffee? I’m making pancakes for breakfast.”

Hyunjin couldn’t respond. He could only stare, trying to make sense of how the boy in his dreams, and in the painting, was in his kitchen. He took another step into the kitchen, never taking his eyes off of him as he walked closer. When he was within arm’s reach, he lifted his hand and touched the boys’ cheek. This caused the boy to chuckle.

“I’m real, if that’s what you are wondering.”

Hyunjin blushed and pulled his hand away. “I just…who are you?”

“Oh, that’s right. I never told you what my name was before.”

“Before?” Hyunjin asked, his eyes going wide with surprise.

The boy nodded. “I’m Felix.”

“Felix…” Hyunjin whispered.

Felix smiled. “We met before. In a dream, I believe.”

Hyunjin reached out and touched Felix again, feeling the need to double check. When his fingers touched Felix’s wrist softly, he softly ran them up his arm to his elbow. Felix watched him patiently, knowing how it felt to feel as if he was dreaming.

“How is this real?” Hyunjin asked into the air.

Felix shrugged before mimicking what Hyunjin did to him. He started at the top of his hand, slowly moving his touch up Hyunjin’s arm to his elbow. He turned his body, facing Hyunjin and stepping closer. He watched as his touch caused goosebumps to form on Hyunjin’s arm where his fingers traced.

“I’m not sure how, but I’m real.” Felix began, slowly moving closer to the taller boy. “I know in your dream we were so close. I’m not sure what we had there, but I want that with you here.”

Felix looked up at Hyunjin, his eyes shining. Hyunjin’s breath caught in his throat as he remembered the dream and how close they felt. It was…romantic. He wanted that too, but how was he supposed to explain how they met?

Before he could do or say anything further, Felix wrapped an arm around Hyunjin’s waist and pulled him close. He placed his other hand on Hyunjin’s cheek softly. He stretched up slowly, their lips colliding in a soft kiss. Hyunjin was surprised at first, his body tensing for a few seconds before relaxing into the kiss.

The kiss didn’t last long enough to Hyunjin, but he had a feeling he was going to have plenty of time to experience more as time went on with Felix.

@redstayrosie (requested by)

[le0thewe4id0]

Lux had knocked on Astronyu's immediately after she had passed out on the doorstep. Astron was just inside, they were painting near the fireplace as the rain poured, then they heard a knock at the door they had gotten up and went to answer. They had peaked their head out looking side to side not seeing anyone then looked down to see Lux looking like a sad wet cat.

Astron took Lux in and had set her down on the couch, after Lux regained her consciousness she had woken up looking to the side seeing a cup of nice warm tea, and some fresh cookies, and of course Astronyu who was still painting not noticing that Lux was awake.

(L = Luxintrus, A = Astronyu)

L: Astron?

A: Yes Lux?

L: Can I go shower?

A: mhm!

Astronyu had snapped their fingers then some towels along with some extra clothes had appeared in Luxintrus's hands

L: I-

A: Go down the hall then to the right is the bathroom!

Lux was now in the bathroom. She had turned the water on and turned it on to be very hot, they then got changed out of their clothing and had hopped in the shower. Once they were in the shower they had left the burning hot water hit her back as she had let out a long sigh. After the 2 hour shower it was now 12:13 they turned off the water, grabbed a towel, dried herself off and wrapped the towel around her body and was about to do the same thing for her hair when she noticed their hair was gray, they looked at the goggles that were once The Mason's now had a crack on them and to mention the scars she now has thanks to Winsweep

L: Great! Fuckin great! Now I look like a grandma thanks to Blake!! Fuckin asshole- but hey at least I have some cool scars

Lux had wrapped their hair, and had gotten changed then walked out with a towel still on her head

L: Hey astr-

Astron snapped their finger and a combo along with hair detangler appeared I'm Lux's hands as the wet clothes got put on the porch outside letting them dry off

L: thanks-

A: No problem! Also you need help brushing your hair?

L: i- yeah-

Her face went bright red from embarrassment, Astron had patted right beside them as a sign saying "sit here.” Lux had went over to them and sat besides them, as they took off the towel, sprayed the detangler and started to comb her hair

A: You have nice hair Lux!

L: Thanks Astron-

A: Although the purple hair did fit you, I like the gray hair!

L: huh- I was just thinking of dying it back to purple

A: noooo let me be the only purple-

L: fine-

After Astronyu had finished brushing Lux's hair, they had said goodnight and had given her some blankets then went to their room and had fallen asleep. Lux was having some trouble falling asleep since what had happened between her and Winsweep. She sat up on the couch then got on her knees and started praying to Folly aka the goddess of Chaos and bad choices aka Rat's older sister aka the goddess that SHE(Lux) simps for.

L: Folly.. Please make sure Rat is okay? I never meant for him to get launched 300,000,000 blocks away- I really didn't and I'm sorry Folly just please make sure he's okay.. please and thank you Folly

Lux then laid down pulled the blanket over her and had fallen asleep feeling a bit more at ease thanks to that

====TIME SKIP====

It was now morning and astron was up and making some breakfast as Lux was still asleep, they were hearing Lux sleep talk she was saying something about being sorry and not meaning for any of this to happen, and was also apologize over and over and over they were apologizing to Rat, The Mason, and Nox

They had finished cooking and had set it on the coffee table since their table was occupied by blank canvas, art supplies, paint, water colors, and some paintings. Thankfully Lux is a light sleeper so they only had tapped Lux on the shoulder three times and she was awake

A: Lux- morning sleepy head!

L: hm? Oh-.. morning Astron-

A: I made some breakfast for the two of us so get up and go wash your hands and then we'll eat! Okay?

L: mhm-..

Lux sat up on the couch still trying to process what had happened yesterday, then got up and had went to the bathroom to wash her hands

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

I kinda changed it a little but here it is I'm working on finishing it maybe today or tomorrow! So hopefully I can get this done and yall lovely peeps can read it!! Love yall!/p and make sure to stay safe! <3

[gothdaddyissues]

The Devil Came To A Small Town

Chapter Three available on Ao3 - or under the cut (~6500 words)

Summary: Cardinal Copia seeks out Primo for some advice. Izzy and Copia meet again, and continue to pine for each other (like the idiots they are).

Tags: OC female, Cardinal Copia, Papa I/Primo, Mutual Pining, Slow Burn, Ministry Hijinks, Idiots in Love (heart-eyes motherfucker), Eventual Smut (but not yet), swears and cursings, No Beta (we die like Terzo), Google Translate Italiano

Catch up here: | Chapter 1 | Chapter 2 |

September 30

Her nose was cold.

Isabelle had slept with her bedroom window open. The night air was crisp and cool this time of year and always made for the best sleeping environment. The contrast between the outdoor breeze and her body cuddled in the blankets guaranteed a blissful night’s rest. But now, the chill was creeping in, slithering across her face, tickling her ears, and sneaking down into the cozy nest she had built in her bed.

She sat up with difficulty, her cat asleep between her legs and burrowed in blankets to keep warm. She gave him a pat on his head, noticing his ears were cold too.

“Gonna go close the window, Poe,” she said to him, “Be right back.”

The uncarpeted floor was like ice. Hissing, she skipped across the room to the window and pushed the curtains back enough to close it. The first colors of dawn were coming to light on the horizon, while the moon and stars still hung visible in the clear sky overhead.

Izzy hurried back to the bed, wrapping herself up in the covers again. She grabbed her phone to check the clock - just past 6:15 am, hours before her usual wake-up time. But she was wide awake now, the cold on her skin jolting her straight into full consciousness. She lay huddled in her duvet, staring up at the ever-lightening sky through the gap in the curtains. Today was the last day of September, meaning tomorrow would start the busiest month of the year for her, business-wise and personally. Samhain / Halloween would be here before she knew it.

She fussed under the blankets, rolling over onto her side, annoying the cat enough to make him jump off the bed. It was unlikely she would go back to sleep at this point, between the chill and Poe hounding her for breakfast now that she was awake. She mentally ran down her checklist of things to do for the day. End-of-the-month bookkeeping would be her first priority. She had to make some orders for supplies. Was there anything left over from the previous day?

The previous day…. Cardinal Copia.

Fuck.

She had successfully managed to distract herself with TikToks long enough to fall asleep the night before. There were no captivating dreams about him (or the skull-painted man that may or may not be him). And she had awoken without thoughts of him, until this moment.

Now it was unlikely she’d think of much else.

“Okay, fine,” she sighed to herself, tossing aside the covers and getting out of bed, “Let’s get the day started.”

Izzy took her time with her morning routine: feeding the cat, a shower, a light dusting of makeup, and a cup of tea with some avocado toast for breakfast. She planned to go to the shop early for a head start on paperwork in an effort to keep her mind occupied. She sat and ate her meal, staring out the window at the sun finishing its rise. A foggy haze was descending, the cool air mixed with the still-warm earth to blanket the town in mist. This was her favorite type of weather.

So instead of working, she chose to distract herself by heading outside for a walk. She outfitted herself all in black - leggings, a sweater, a long coat that hung past her knees, and her most comfortable boots. With her phone in hand, her earbuds in, and her moody Darkwave playlist on shuffle, she ventured into the chill morning.

She first went down Main Street a few blocks, then crossed the road onto King Street. She passed the dry cleaner, the salon where she got her hair done, the Reiki practitioner, the insurance office, and finally the library, one of the oldest and most imposing buildings in town. It was still too early for anything to be open, but the streets were alive with residents on their morning jogs or walking their dogs. She exchanged smiles and nods with everyone she saw.

King Street came to an abrupt dead end just past the library. At the end of the block was the entrance to a vast forested area, known to most everyone simply as “The Woods.” It was blocked off by concrete barriers, with a small enough opening to allow only pedestrians and cyclists through. The town owned the Woods, and while it was not an official park, the residents used the roughed-in trails as though it were. Over the years, unscrupulous businessmen had tried - repeatedly - to buy it, tear it out, and develop it, but the town had always fought back and kept them at bay. It was too beloved a spot to destroy.

It was also the place where Izzy felt most at home.

Being a witch, she was drawn to nature, of course. But she had spent so many hours of her childhood and youth exploring and playing in these woods. And as she grew into her teen years, the Woods became a safe haven for her and her friend group. It was a place where they could hide away from their parents, drink, smoke, play music, and party. The secret makeshift clearings they had built deep in the brush still stood. She never felt afraid here, only comfortable and nostalgic.

The main path through the Woods was not paved, but so well-worn that it was easy to navigate. Izzy took her time and kept a steady pace, enjoying the music in her ears while she wandered the path. Birds and squirrels were busying themselves preparing for winter. Acorns and leaves crunched under her boots. This was the distraction she needed. There were no thoughts except existing in this moment and enjoying the foggy beauty around her. She was content. She inhaled deeply, the brisk air filling her lungs, and the heady smell of damp earth enveloping her.

About twenty minutes into her walk she reached a large clearing, known as the Halfway Log Turnaround, so named because of the huge trunk of a felled tree that lay across the ground there. It was the ideal place to have a seat and rest. This was also the spot where most people would, as the name implied, turn around and head back into town, which was what Izzy had initially intended on doing. But she stopped, surveying the way ahead of her.

The path continued on, past the clearing, further into a more dense part of The Woods. It was not nearly as well-worn as the first half of the path since it was now so rarely used. It was a bit harder to navigate, more serpentine, but still accessible if you were confident and careful. Or if you knew the way as well as Izzy did. Because she and her friends had traveled it often back in the day, using it as a shortcut to get to Windermere Abbey.

Windermere Abbey. The new home of the Church of Emeritus. Where the Cardinal most likely was, right this minute.

Now she was second-guessing herself. Had she really wanted to just ‘go for a walk’ or was she being compelled to end up here? Here on the path that would carry her to the mystery man she was so drawn to…

Izzy checked the time - it was almost 8:30. She had about two and a half hours before the store was due to open. The wooded path ended beside the old, overgrown graveyard at the back of the Abbey property. It would take about twenty more minutes to get there, then another forty or so minutes back to town.

Her head was telling her to turn around and go home.

But her feet had already started moving in the opposite direction.

********

Copia hurried through the halls of the Abbey, red cassock swishing around his legs and Grucifix jingling as he moved. He had successfully avoided any more interaction with Sister Imperator the previous evening by taking his dinner in his office and heading right to his quarters afterward. He had slept fitfully, unable to stop thinking about Isabella, and had to drag himself out of bed as early as he could so he could speak with Primo before the duties of his day began. And he wanted to do it before Sister Imperator was up and about, so he had to move quickly.

He made a brief stop in the dining hall, pouring two silver travel mugs full of hot, fresh coffee. With one in each hand, he made his way through the less-traveled corridors at the rear of the main building, taking the first exit he could find that would lead him out into the grounds behind the Abbey. He used his elbow to push down on the handle, bumping it outwards with his ass to open the door, then kicking it shut with his foot once he was outside.

It was a beautiful autumn morning, the air brisk but refreshing. The rising sun’s rays shone through the light mist hanging over the gardens and into the forest beyond. It was peaceful with no siblings or clergy in sight. The only sounds were the occasional chirping of birds and the crunch of gravel under his feet as he approached the large greenhouse on the other side of the Abbey grounds.

Primo’s ghoul Alpha kept watch at the greenhouse entrance, and he opened up the door for Copia when he saw him approaching with his hands full.

“Thank you, Alpha. Primo is here, si?” Copia asked.

Alpha nodded, pointing toward the far end of the greenhouse.

The air inside was heavy with the lush fragrance of flowers, herbs, and rich soil. There were small puddles of water here and there, rivulets trickling towards the floor drain as Primo watered the raised plant beds with an antique watering can. He was humming happily to himself, seeming so content that Copia felt almost guilty interrupting him.

“Buongiorno, Primo,” he greeted, “Come stai?”

“Ah, Cardinale! You brought me un caffè? Ti benedico, figlio!” Primo took the coffee mug from Copia and took a deep, appreciative, swig. “I am well, my boy. Much better now, with this.” Primo took another sip before continuing, “It is good to see you, Cardinale. We missed you at dinner last night. Were you unwell?”

Copia sat on a bench next to the garden bed Primo was tending. “No, not unwell,” he said, “Just busy. I had a half day’s worth of work to catch up on.”

“Because of your trip into town yesterday?” Primo gave him a sly wink. “We heard all about your visit to the magic shop.”

Copia furrowed his brow. How would they find that out? Did Aether tell them? “You did? From whom?”

“Imperator, of course,” Primo continued, placing his coffee mug down on the railing of the plant bed and turning back to his herb garden. “She told us how smitten you were with the witchy lady who runs the place.”

Copia cringed. He lowered his head, setting his mug on the ground between his feet, then covering his face with his hands. “That is… Sister did not… errgghh…” he groaned, “She didn’t say that, did she?”

“Well, perhaps not in those exact words, but that was what she implied. She went on at great length about her shop and how whimsical it was, about her kindness and her helpfulness, how lovely she is. She said those were your words.”

Copia couldn’t deny that. He had told Sister as much. “Si,” he said quietly, “She is all those things and more.”

The hushed tone of Copia’s voice made Primo glance over his shoulder at the Cardinal hunched on the bench, and he turned back to him with full attention. “Is this a bad thing, Copia?” he asked, his concern obvious.

Copia was silent for a moment. He shook his head. “No, not a bad thing. Not exactly. It’s just… it was all so strange.”

“Strange how?” Primo asked, picking up his coffee and taking a seat next to Copia. “Speak to me, figlio, tell me what happened.”

There was a reason he felt comfortable confiding in Primo. The old man was patient and understanding, but above all, he was like the father he’d never had. Copia knew he could trust him and that Primo would offer thoughtful and logical advice. He raised his head from his hands. “There is something about her that I cannot explain. When I met her, it felt as if… well, as if I knew her already. I was so drawn to her, I could not look away. I took her hand and I did not want to let go. I felt like an absolute fool. And then I couldn’t sleep last night for thinking of her. This is not like me, Primo. I’ve never had something like this happen before. It makes no sense. I’m confused.”

Copia was clearly distraught, but Primo could not help but raise his eyebrows and give a soft chuckle. “Ah yes,” he began, “I see. Things like this happen if you are lucky. Usually for a reason, you know. It can be a mystery as to why at first, but that reason will make itself clear in time. The Dark Lord has blessed you. Why does this upset you? Are you not happy? Intrigued?”

The Cardinal blinked a few times, not really expecting Primo to react that way. He was not upset, or unhappy. More puzzled and anxious than anything else. Mostly, he couldn’t understand why a woman as lovely as Isabelle would want anything to do with him. “I just think it’s a bit absurd,” was all he could manage.

“You are too rational, Cardinale,” Primo said, “This is why you are bothered. You want things to ‘make sense.’ You want everything to have a reasonable explanation. You hate the idea that such things might be out of your control or that fate has decided for you. I understand. I don’t fault you for that, it is just your nature.” He gave Copia a pat on the shoulder. “But matters of the heart very rarely ‘make sense.’”

Copia picked up his mug and took a long sip of his coffee. He still didn’t want to believe it. “It feels… I mean I feel… eh… People don’t just fall in love at first sight.”

“What do you think happened when I met my Lilliana, hmm?”

“You can’t be serious?”

Primo readjusted himself on the bench to be more comfortable, facing Copia. “Oh si, it is true. It was long ago, when I was a Cardinal like you, back at the Ministry in Italy. We met in the library. I turned around a bookshelf and ran right into her, the books she carried falling everywhere. I helped her gather them up, all apologies. When our eyes finally met, it was the same feeling you described. I could not look away. I felt as if I was on fire. My heart and my soul knew her, knew that she was the one I was searching for. My beautiful Lilliana. From that very moment, she was mine and I was hers. 50 years we spent together, Copia. And even though she is gone from this earth now, I see her in each flower I grow here. She is still with me.”

The old man’s words hit Copia hard. He had fond memories of Prime Mover Lilliana, of how she and Primo were infatuated with each other even into their golden years. Their relationship had been a pure example of true love and left Copia wondering if he would ever experience something like it. But that was years ago when he was a younger man. His last serious relationship had ended when he was promoted to Cardinal, and he had long since given up on such illusions…

He gave Primo’s arm a gentle squeeze. “You were a very lucky man to have known such love in your life. But I’m not searching for anything, or anyone.”

“Your head may not be, but your heart is. It always is. Things come to you when you stop looking for them,” Primo said sagely. “You need to get out of here,” he tapped Copia on the forehead, “And use this instead,” he nudged him in the middle of his chest. “Thank Satanas you do not think with your dick like Terzo does.”

The two men shared a knowing laugh. Primo’s youngest brother Terzo, the wild and lascivious Papa Emeritus the Third, would never have such hesitant thoughts when it came to an attractive woman. Copia was no stranger to carnal pleasure - he was, after all, high-ranking clergy in a church that encouraged such things. But he had no desire to compete with Terzo’s libertine antics.

“We joke, yes, but I am serious Copia,” Primo said softly. “These last few years have been challenging for us all, but for you especially - becoming Papa’s Cardinale, leaving Italy and Sister Antonella to come here… You do so much for us, for the Ministry, but I see you have changed. You work, you eat, you sleep. You isolate yourself. Where is your joy, figlio? I worry about you. True, you are not an Emeritus by blood, but to us you are family. We want you to be happy. You should have seen Sister Imperator last night, so excited talking about you and this lady.”

This was Copia’s chance to divert the topic of conversation from himself to the real reason he came to speak with Primo. “Speaking of Sister Imperator, have you found her… difficult to deal with of late?”

Primo shook his head. “No, not more so than usual. But I don’t interact with her as much as you do. Has she been causing you trouble?”

“She was the one who sent me into town yesterday. She insisted that I go, told me I had to meet Miss Bennett. It was on purpose. It felt like she was pushing us together. I suspect it was all because of one of her damn visions.”

“I would not be surprised. The Sister has become quite the avid prophet of late, eh?” Primo mused before downing the last of his coffee.

“Do you think we should be concerned?” Copia asked. “It’s starting to worry me.”

“Why?” Primo stood and shuffled off to the potting table in the corner. “Imperator has always had visions of some sort, as far back as I can remember. Births, deaths, times of joy or turmoil - she saw them beforehand.” He returned with a small pair of shears and began pruning overgrowth from his herbs. “I was always impressed with her accuracy. She would warn me when bad weather was coming so I could protect my plants. And there was that time she told Terzo who would win the Superbowl. He won quite a lot of money making bets.”

“Yes, but compare that to what she’s doing now. Buying this Abbey, all the renovations, moving our Clergy here, taking on students, summoning more Ghouls… These are major decisions that affect all of us, and The Ministry as a whole. Based on one woman’s visions.”

“But these are all good things, yes?” Primo countered, “We are thriving here! Our numbers increase week on week. We are spreading our message. As the Sister’s commitment to the Dark One grows, so does her connection with Him. Her devotion is rewarded with the strengthening of her foresight.”

“Primo, you and I both know that the Dark One does not just grant gifts. There is always a price,” Copia said, gesturing to his white eye, the symbol of his communion with the lord Lucifer. “What price will she have to pay for this great blessing, hm?”

The old man stopped fussing with his plants and turned his full attention back to Copia. “I do not know, figlio,” he said, an edge of worry in his voice, “If Sister has made a contract with our Dark Lord for her visions, she is wise enough to know the consequences. There is little we can do to change that. Hopefully, the continued success of The Ministry will be payment enough.”

“I hope so,” Copia said ruefully. “I worry that she’d burn this place down with all of us inside just because The Devil told her to.”

Primo sighed. “You are not the only one to have such concerns. Secondo has said similar things to me. He too worries that this is getting out of hand and that Sister Imperator is playing a dangerous game. Trust me when I say he is keeping an eye on her. I will tell him you are worried as well.”

“Thank you, Papa,” Copia nodded. “What about the others? What do they think?”

“They say and do nothing. Terzo is Terzo. He he reaping the rewards of our success without worrying about the consequences. But he would side with us if it came to that, this I know. And Nihil, quel vecchio sporcaccione, is as useless as tits on a bull. Whatever Imperator wants, he agrees. As it has always been.”

With a furrowed brow, Copia finished the last of his coffee. This conversation with Primo wasn’t easing his fears in the slightest. Secondo was the most experienced of the brothers in communicating with the Dark One. If he was nervous about Imperator’s heightened abilities, Copia was right to be uneasy.

Primo sat next to him again, placing a reassuring hand on Copia’s arm. “I think I understand… you and Sister have a complex relationship. She is like a mother to you. You worry about her, about what she is doing to herself and to all of us. And at the same time, you are upset. You feel she is meddling in your life, manipulating you into meeting with this witchy shop lady, si?”

The Cardinal laughed under his breath. The eldest Emeritus brother was well into his 80s, but his mind was still as sharp and perceptive as a young man’s. “Yes,” he said, “That’s exactly it.”

“Do you wish for me to just acknowledge your feelings, or would you like my advice?” Primo asked.

“I always value your advice, Papa,” Copia answered.

“Then my advice is this: do not dismiss your attraction to this woman because of the circumstances of your meeting. I have been where you are, I have felt these feelings for someone once, and I have never regretted it for a moment. I would wish the same happiness on you. You are a most loyal servant to the Dark One, and if he has brought the two of you together, there is a reason. He finds you deserving. What have you got to lose?”

“My immortal soul? It’s possible Sister Imperator has already sold it to him.”

It was Primo’s turn to laugh now. “Oh, Cardinale, she would never! You are too dear to her. But I would sell my soul five times over to have Lilliana back in my arms again. To me, it would be worth it.” His tone grew more serious, “Try not to let Sister trouble you, alright? We will keep watch over her. Live your life and try to find some happiness. Will you do that for me?”

“I’ll try, Primo. But no promises. I already have a full-time job keeping Terzo out of trouble,” Copia replied with a weary smile.

“We’ll see if we can’t get you some help with that too,” Primo offered, “You shouldn’t have to shoulder that burden alone.”

Primo’s Ghoul abruptly appeared, on alert. He stared pointedly out of the greenhouse window towards the back of the Abbey grounds. He was tense, his hands flexed with claws at the ready, and a low growl came from his throat.

“What is it Alpha?” Primo asked, alarmed. He stood and went to his Ghoul, following his line of sight with his own. Alpha stood in front of him protectively, but Primo placed his hand on the Ghoul’s shoulder to calm him. “It’s alright, it’s alright. It’s just a visitor.”

Copia popped up from the bench. “Oh! Is the deer back again?” he asked excitedly, making his way to the window, hoping to catch a glimpse of the stag that visited most mornings.

It was not the deer. It was a woman walking through the abandoned cemetery at the edge of the property. Even from several yards away, Copia recognized her immediately. His heart fluttered, his breath hitched. Isabella.

“Oh sweet Satanas, Primo. It’s her,” he whispered, “It’s Miss Bennett.”

“Well, well, well,” Primo grinned, “If that’s not a sign, I don’t know what is, Copia. You’d best go say hello to her, si?”

********

Izzy emerged from the Woods through a bower formed by the thick, unkempt hedges that edged the Abbey’s property. The abandoned nun’s cemetery stood just ahead of her, still shrouded in fog, most of its thin, plain tombstones jutting out of the ground at odd angles. Some stones were broken, while others lay flat on the ground in various states of decay, covered in moss and ivy. It was a bit more run-down than the last time she had been out here and vastly worse than she recalled from back in the day. It was dank and dreary, and perfectly melancholy.

Off to her left, several yards away was Windermere Abbey. This was the first time she had seen it since the Church of Emeritus had taken possession. Her last visit here with Ari was the previous autumn - it had been derelict for years at that point. Their amateurish attempts at urban exploration yielded nothing but crumbling old buildings filled with trash and graffiti, infestations of rats, gaping holes in the roofs, broken windows, and rotting wood.

But now? Now it was nothing like she had remembered.

The main chapel and all the other structures surrounding it looked as pristine as old buildings could possibly be. A new metal roof had been installed. All the masonry was repaired. Stained glass windows had been re-installed, and even the greenhouse was restored. The gardens were perfectly manicured, bordered by neat paths of clean gravel. Even the long wooden dormitory building along the side of the property had been completely rebuilt. It had likely been decades since it looked so immaculate. Izzy estimated that it must have cost hundreds of thousands of dollars, maybe even millions, to renovate it to this condition. And the interior was no doubt refurbished in a similar, grand manner. This beautiful piece of history was finally being appreciated again, but it was a stark contrast to the overgrown graveyard here.

She strolled through the cemetery, one of her clique’s favorite places to hang out and do dramatic, goth fashion photoshoots when she was a teenager. It was embarrassing to think about now, especially after learning the history of the building and the convent that occupied it. All these women who had lived their lives in pious devotion were long forgotten, their names barely visible on the worn stone tablets. Nature was taking it over, and Izzy found that morbidly appropriate. Earth to earth, ashes to ashes, dust to dust, and all that.

The sun was rising higher in the sky now, burning off the lingering fog. She would have to start her walk back to town soon to open the store on time. There hadn’t been a soul out on the Abbey grounds at this early hour, and she felt oddly disappointed. Some part of her had hoped she would see the Cardinal… which was silly, really. Did she expect him to be sitting there waiting for her? Of course not. He’d have no way of even knowing she was here. It was early, he was a busy man, he had duties and classes to teach, and a life of his own. This was technically his home - if he saw her, would he think she was stalking him? Was she trespassing on private property?

Suddenly, she was an anxious mess. Her mind raced with panicked thoughts. This is stupid. Why am I here? I shouldn’t have come… I need to get back. Go quick, before someone sees you, dumbass…

Izzy turned on her heel and started back towards the Woods. She took one last, admiring glance towards the Abbey.

That’s when she saw him. The Cardinal. Clad in a deep crimson cassock. Approaching her.

Holy shit.

Her head felt fuzzy and her heart was hammering in her chest as he came closer. The panic she was feeling just moments ago was still thrumming through her, like a hormonal teenager coming face to face with her crush.

The Cardinal must have sensed her anxiety. He moved forward slowly, as if she were a frightened animal that he didn’t want to scare off. And then he waved. A shy, awkward wave accompanied by an equally shy, awkward smile. He gazed at her, those hypnotic mismatched eyes twinkling, and it melted away the panic inside of her. She returned the wave, realizing only then that she still had her earbuds in and the music blasting through them. She quickly pulled them out and stashed them in her pocket, silencing her phone just as she heard him say “Hello.”

“Hello, Cardinal,” she smiled, stepping forward to close the distance between them. “I, uh… I hope I’m not intruding. You don’t mind me being here, do you?”

“Oh no no no, you are not intruding! Not at all! It is a pleasure to see you,” he stammered, full of nervous energy. “But, eh… how did you… what are you doing out here?”

“I was taking a walk,” she replied, “It’s a beautiful morning, with the fog. I couldn’t resist.”

“You walked? All the way from town?” he asked, incredulous.

“Yes, there’s a shortcut through the woods,” she said, motioning over to the dense trees nearby. “It starts right next to the library on King Street. Takes about half an hour or so.”

“I had no idea! Do… do you walk this way often?”

“Not as often as I used to. Haven’t been since the Abbey was sold.” She nodded towards the building. “It looks amazing, by the way! Last time I saw it, it was practically falling down. Now it’s almost good as new! You’ve even rebuilt the original greenhouse.”

“Yes, everything is completely refurbished inside and out,” Copia said proudly, “And Primo was quite insistent that the greenhouse be included in that.”

“Primo?”

“He was the head of our church, many years ago,” he explained. “He’s enjoying his retirement with us now. The greenhouse is his pride and joy.”

Izzy could see an older gentleman standing at the windows of the greenhouse, watching them with a smile on his face. “Is that him?” she asked.

The Cardinal glanced back, and the old man waved to acknowledge him. “Eh, yes, it is. I was just sharing a morning coffee with him. He is a good man… like a father to me.” Copia gave a small wave in return, and Izzy joined in with a wave of her own. She watched Primo wander away from the window, the smile still on his face, before she turned her attention back to the man in front of her.

“The only thing still needing to be dealt with is this place, I’m afraid,” Copia continued, referring to the old cemetery, “We have yet to come to a decision on what to do with it. We would not desecrate it, obviously, but do we clean it up, restore it, tend to it? Or do we just let it continue like this?”

“Funny you should say that because I was just thinking that letting nature reclaim it might be a reverent thing to do,” Izzy said, “There’s something strangely beautiful about seeing it all overgrown like this. But that’s just my opinion, unusual as it might be.”

“Yes, yes” he agreed, nodding in earnest, “I think so too! But the Sister, she… well, she thinks we should be asking the community first.”

Izzy laughed softly. “Well, as an almost-lifelong member of this community, I can tell you that most people in town won’t care…” She stopped, worried that she was making the townsfolk sound cruel or insensitive, so she softened her tone, “I mean, the convent shut down, like, 40 years ago. There won’t be many folks around that remember anything about them. And the Diocese didn’t even maintain the upkeep while they still owned it. I think you’re safe to do with it what you like.”

“Then I will tell Sister Imperator that I have spoken to a representative of the community,” he gestured towards Izzy with his hands, “And that the community says to leave it be, si?” Copia smiled at her then, and she could see a glint of playfulness in his mismatched eyes that made her heart flutter. “You seem to know much about the history of this place.”

“My mother was very involved with the town’s Historical Committee back in the day,” she explained, “I learned a lot through her.”

“You likely know even more than we do.”

“You think?” Izzy gave him a smirk. “Tell me what you know and we’ll find out!”

“Well,” Copia began, still smiling, still enraptured with her, “We know that the main chapel was built in the late 1800s, with the dormitory and outbuildings added sometime in the early 1900s. It housed a Benedictine convent. Over time, their numbers dwindled and it was closed down in the 1980s. But it was considered a historical property and no one wanted to tear it down, so it remained unused and fell into disrepair. Does that sound right?”

“Yes,” she said, “More or less… it was sold for a brief time in the 90s, but the town persuaded the Diocese to buy it back afterwards.” She leaned in a little closer to him. “And they were very unhappy about it, I might add,” she whispered slyly.

The Cardinal raised his eyebrow, intrigued. “Why?” he asked, his voice also a whisper.

“Some dude-bros from the city bought it and turned it into a very raunchy goth nightclub. Called The Sanctuary,” Izzy revealed. “Our town got quite a bad reputation because of that. It was a wild place.”

Copia gasped lightly, surprised and amused. “Really? Now that I did not know!”

“I spent many, many a night here in my younger years. Drinking, dancing, smoking up behind that greenhouse, taking naughty photos in this cemetery…” Izzy confessed with a giggle.

“Oh my, Isabella… How sacrilegious of you!” Copia was laughing now, and Izzy couldn’t help but join him.

The nervousness she’d felt earlier had dissipated. She was entirely comfortable in his presence - enough to admit to the rowdy antics of her misspent youth without fearing he would judge her. Instead, he was laughing along with her, endearing him to her even more. For his part, Copia’s initial awkwardness seemed to have faded. He stood a little taller, spoke more confidently, and joked with her easily. She still felt that mysterious pull toward him, but now it felt a little less like some pre-destined arrangement, and more like the natural attraction to a handsome, charming man.

“So,” she said, stifling her laughter, “That’s the secret history of Windermere Abbey. And that’s how I know exactly the path to take through the Woods to get here. It’s burned into my memory. I will say, the exterior looks much better than I remember. I’m sure the inside is very different.”

“Well, you must come in and see. Let me give you a guided tour,” he offered eagerly.

“Oh, I would absolutely love that! But…” She knew that she had to start her journey back, that at this point she was cutting it close to opening time. It killed her to have to say no. “I can’t today. I really need to head back to town. It’s a bit of a hike and I have to get the store open.”

Izzy could see the disappointment on his face, and she could feel her own in her heart. “Of course, mia cara, I understand,” he said. “Would you like a ride? I can see if someone is available to drive you back.”

“That’s very kind of you, Cardinal, but I’ll be fine. The walk is good for my soul, y’know?” She reached out and placed her hand over his reassuringly. “But I do want that tour. I absolutely do. And I want to have the time to enjoy it and appreciate it. So I’ll be back. Soon, okay?”

Copia’s face lit up with the sweetest grin, crinkling the corners of his dark-shadowed eyes, a slight blush coloring his freckled cheeks. “Yes, yes. Soon! I look forward to it.” He slid his gloved fingers over Isabelle’s and bowed slightly, bringing her hand up to his lips to place a delicate kiss on the back of it. “Until next time, then.”

He gently let go of her hand, the soft leather slipping from her grasp sooner than she wanted it to. A simple gesture that felt so sensual, it left her momentarily breathless. “Yes, until then.”

“Ciao, Bella.”

With a smile and a nod, she turned and began making her way back to the wooded path. Her hand was tingling where he had kissed it. She took a few more steps before she heard Copia’s voice call out behind her.

“Are you sure you’ll be alright in there, Bella? You won’t get lost, will you?” He sounded worried.

She spun around to face him, still walking backward towards the bower. “Yes, Cardinal, I’ll be fine. Don’t you worry about me. I know it like the back of my hand!”

Yeah. The back of my hand… that’s all tingly because you kissed it… and now I’m walking away flexing it like fucking Mr. Darcy… shit.

Izzy waved and turned back to The Woods, stepping through the opening in the hedge and starting her trek back to town. Slipping her earbuds back in, she restarted her playlist, setting it to shuffle. It was a good thing she knew the way so well because her mind certainly wasn’t focused on the path under her feet or the music in her ears. Her thoughts were wandering to Copia, his beautiful mismatched eyes, his smile, his classically handsome face, his musical Italian accent. Even his deep red Cardinal’s robes were unlocking something within her, another kink to put on the pile with all the others she had. And the gloves… she could not stop thinking of those gloved hands touching her. Everywhere.

Before she knew it she was at the Halfway Log. She had completely zoned out, wandering the Woods in a blissful daze for the last 20 minutes. She stopped for a moment, trying to clear her head, forcing her attention onto something to ground her. She chose the music. Nine Inch Nails was on the playlist, Trent Reznor growling in her ear about wanting to “fuck you like an animal.”

How appropriate… For fuck’s sake.

[slowroadtosantiago]

Day 14 - Viloria to Villafranca Montes de Oca

Just over 12.5 miles today according to the book and my phone is showing 13 so it’s there or there abouts.

We left at 7:30, after a breakfast which was a help yourself affair. It was cold and misty outside after a night of heavy rain and you couldn’t see very far.

The initial part of the path to Belorado wasn’t terribly inspiring as it followed a busy main road that had plenty of lorries thundering down it.

Eventually the skies cleared up and it was cracking walking weather, cool and sunny. We stopped in Belorado for coffee and admired the wall paintings. Sometimes the sides of houses are painted a bright orange colour, and one we passed today had what looked like glasses sticking out.

We eventually left the noise of the road and walked through the now familiar barley and rape fields for a while before stopping late morning at some benches next to a church for a break of biscuits and an apple.

On the road up Jane had picked up a flip flop that had been dropped. We mentioned it to a Canadian who was just leaving the rest stop and was staying where we were, and he mentioned it to others and lo and behold the owner was found!

We changed out of our shoes into our sandals and carried on (it’s nice for our feet to be in something different), stopping again in the next village to go to the loo and have an ice cream.

The path eventually came back to the road after some ruins. We dodged the noisy trucks to get through Villafranca to reach the hostel we are staying in by about 1:30. It’s a lovely place, mainly acting as a hotel but with a hostel attached which is immaculate. The beds are sturdy and we have both bagsed bottom bunks in a mixed room with 9 sets of bunks. Our lovely Korean friends Jacob and Lucia are in here too along with Alva from last night and Nicole, our Australian friend.

Jane went for a coffee while I had a shower and did a bit of washing (by hand). Basically you take a shampoo soap bar with you that doubles for everything - hair, body, clothes. You just have to be careful to let it dry properly afterwards. I took one from the UK but it disintegrated pretty quickly, so have found a very good Spanish one.

After an hour or so of feet up we went for a couple of glasses of wine, meeting Alex and her dad from Texas that we realised were in Orisson at the start with us, and Alison, another American, in her 20’s, who has her own marketing company and is also a yoga teacher.

We stocked up on breakfast and snack stuff from the very small shop in the village, cake and fruit, as the first leg tomorrow is 7.5 miles up hill without facilities of any sort.

Dinner tonight was the Pilgrim menu, and at 18 euros was quite steep, but it was well worth it. We both had a plate of broccoli cooked with a chicken and a cream and Parmesan sauce, I then had meatballs and Jane had cod, followed by crème caramel for me and rice pud for Jane, washed down with red wine. We were sat with Nicole and Alison and were joined by Pat, 68, from the US. The conversations became really wide ranging and philosophical.

This is now the end of week 2, and we’re 152 miles down, our daily mileage increasing to just under 12 miles a day. We’re settling into the walking and the routine, and enjoying the countryside and villages. However what is making it special is meeting all the different people along the way and hearing all their stories and perspectives on life.

[anna-neko]

Scary Marlowe - cosplay breakdown post

how did the original post get 200+ O_o' ... wow ok... did say a long post would happen if it did, so here we go!

The ultimate joke: this Seeker of Darkness was supposed to be a "closet cosplay" Spoiler alert: no, it wasn't

rest of photos frm prev posts: [ post 1 ] [ post 2 ] [ post 3 ] [ post 4 ] [ post 5 ]

PS: hopefully this outfit ramble will be useful for anyone's attempts? ✺◟(＾∇＾)◞✺ yeah, everyone else plz cosplay these dorks too!! This nerd is desperate for others to photos with

Original plan: buy the Scorpion Slut shirt from the DnDaddies site, pair with whatever own, ??, Profit! oh right… Unisex sizes are a lie, not with my build. Not buying legit merch to have to disassemble & destroy (unless someone wants to buy it for me ... j/k)

No big deal, there's another still-easy-enuff second option. Lets look at the podcast official art*nods* right.. shirt with words on it, can manage this Went and bought a rando t-shirt size too big, cut off the long sleeves, started figuring out the words placement. Absolutely took too long getting the letters Exactly Right - in both duplicating the font AND spacing out the words (busty girls, ya know the pain of prints on tshirts)

Then had a minute when forgot how to letters, while trying to draw a nice "S" (resisted the urge to make the meme-S. My girl would not be that mainstream)

The "stencil" is on freezer paper, any white markings is just soap fun sewing trick: if don't wanna go buy specialty pencils or chalk - sliver from an old bar of soap works just as good!! Been doin this all my life.

Leave t-shirt for 24hr for paint to set (then its safe to wash)

Here's where things happen: personal headcanons for this chara start bleeding in Fanart exists and is frellin AWESOME

Headcanons bit first: Scary absolutely had to have PURPLE somewhere on her (because Warlock, patron 'pact' is a Purple Robe ..etc etc etc…) The t-shirt wasn't to be too badly damaged yet because wasn't sure if would find a full fishnet shirt to wear under it OR only like.. those cheap elbow-ish length arm-warmers. If a skirt was to be involved it hadda be plaid and match other shit in the outfit* She's also a former sports kid, which somehow overlapped in my head with her still owning like 'sport branded' clothes, and either cutting off or just like badly ripping out logos, this is why holes in a specific spot *Shut up brain, we aren't literally tryin to recreate what wore back in ancient days of 2003 with the shortest-sleeves tops and long-sleeved fishnet shirts under, it paired with plaid mini-skirts

blah blah saw a bunch of cool fanart, and it sat in the back of my mind, fermenting for a few days, adding to the mental image

Oh hey, my tshirt is dry now! Don't own a good skirt to use with this, lets go to the mall real quick This is where HT completely fails me by havin anythin plaid be themed with HarryPotter, and the only other skirts (that would fit me!) are tacky as fuck or in wrong print (am all about some cute Kuromi... but not today), also comeon… not spending 40bucks for something would literally wear once. Also apparently fishnet shirts aren't a thing right now???

Bought a skirt size 3X (aka too big) for $9.50 at some random place, purely because it happened to be the closest color/print was looking for.

this is where pause for a second to blast whatever factory made it Their own site photo is already bad, but damn accurate. Didn't bother matching the print at the sides? You bet! Not even pretending to care with the waistband match seam! That model is also like 20feet tall, i promise on me skirt was knee-length

but why not just go buy some fabric and the conglomerate monoculture has made sure no small local fabric stores exist! the only thing left is Amazon (aka buy online, fabric dot com is them) or go drive like an hour to closest Joanns for some quilting cotton and pray for the best....

So anyway! now i have "fabric", can arrange a skirt

At first was gonna slap some elastic inside the waistband nope, it bulks up too much, plus the skirt is too damn long on me!

K, imma just rip off the waistband and keep the zipper in side-seam and refold.... why are the pleats 'drifting' off so badly???

OH RIGHT THEY CUT THE PRINT WRONG, and here I was tryin for the easy way of eyeballing it: folding fabric by orienting to the vertical stripes printed on it

Now this is gettin personal! It is 2 in the freakin morning, and it's seam-ripper time. Everyone plz visualize this gremlin sittin on the floor, balancing an iron on her lap, ironing out the fabric to start over

Took apart everything, cut off a portion at the top (didn't wanna deal with rehemming entire bottom later, so shortening skirt goin up instead), do some damn MATH and start folding pleats with a ruler Not trusting fabric to drift yet again, baste every thing down, press everything remember kids, hips to waist difference exist! if you're doing pleats Do fold at slight angle, pin both top and bottom of pleat "closed" and try on. If your math is right it will fit both at waist and hips w/out twisting outta shape Also, if you're gonna do any sort of temporary stitching, use obnoxiously contrasting-color thread! You want it Very Visible for easier later removal

blah blah, trim the length off the waistband piece, sew everything together. Have a skirt now! Plain long-sleeved shirt goes under the black one. Now that shirt situation all sorted - took scissors to sleeves and whatnot. Fistful of safety pins to keep them together. Looks like my clothes are very red and black, so the PURPLE will need to be in hair

at this point we remember fanart exists... or more specifically @midnigtartist because I saw those space-buns and was like ... yes... fuck yes that's whats happening with my hair for the thing!

Also since she drew that check-pattern belt, and im here like hmmm, wasn't gonna have a belt but do have one in that exact colorway... Why not!

Was planning on wearing bike-shorts under the skirt - but this fanart does bring a good point - leggings! Dug up some tights didn't really care for, stuck a safety-pin on one side (to mark where front is, and it just kinda lives there now), cut them shorter (again, just drawing lines on 'em with soap while wearing them) and then (as per that silly holes headcanon) carefully sliced in some tears

Now its just down to lil bits and ends ... and HT failing me yet again because apparently ridiculous bracelets with studs is no longer a thing, they all about cutesy mushrooms, charms and... wannabe bondage garterbelts and chokers? dunno ... is this what kids r into now?

Dug around my room yet again for things to use. The braided-looking bracelets were a gift from a friend just weeks prior. He bought a bunch of those online & they didn't fit him. Plastic "tat" bracelet & choker set have owned for ...ahem... that 2003 mentioned earlier The wide leather cuff came from a RenFaire visit over a decade+ ago. The strip with the studs is a broken headband (wrapped around my wrist, held by safety-pin pilfered from friend's wallet)

cheap purple hairspray from SpiritHalloween (is a damn biohazard! holds up tho), and instead of buying black lipstick just smudged eyeshadow on lips

too many steps for an image wanted to get outta my system because of ONE EPISODE but there ya go. Cosplay just be like that! (getting Scary & Terry jr picture, worth it!)

if you've made it this far: THANX FOR READING! HAVE FEW SNAPS

[corndoggod]

30 for 30: Not Drinking

I’ve never done dry January for a few reasons. 1) I never even considered it until like three years ago. 2) I like to drink more than most and while I knew I could have a healthier relationship with alcohol, I never saw it as a problem. 3) My birthday is January 16. 

But this year, the year I turned 30, I decided to try it, mostly just because I’d never done it before and 30 seemed like a good moment to challenge myself in this way. Could I be comfortable and sociable without God’s lubricant? 

The following is a catalog of times I was tempted by the devil’s water. 

The Gutter

League bowling was running 30 minutes behind schedule and what was there to do but sit at the bar and order a beer. I sat at the bar. C ordered a seltzer with bitters. It was enough. I was slightly nervous with Daddy because C seemed off and I wanted to attend to her. (I was turned away from her, talking to Daddy). 

I was tempted again during the game. I opened strong - two strikes and a spare - but then I slipped. I got frustrated. I wanted to suck on some foam. But I didn’t. 

Tuesday

Feeling good with C who came home early after her new painting job. A beer just sounded nice. Instead, I cracked a seltzer and read Mike Davis’ City of Quartz in preparation for our journey to Los Angeles. Davis described the city in turns as a battleground between sunshine and noir, a big angry parking lot and a product of boosters and real estate speculators. I calculated that my thirty days of not drinking would expire while we were on vacation in LA, the day after Valentine’s Day. What would I toast to? 

Writing Workshop

I was mildly tempted, or rather, knew I would’ve grabbed beers for Sunday’s workshop reunion in normal times. It’d been seven months since we last met and we felt a bit aimless since no one had work to present. And in that aimlessness, I felt a thirst, something to latch my lips to. I knew the liquid would loosen something inside. I kissed my knuckles and carried on. 

The Whale

I was not tempted in the belly of the whale. C made an Indian feast with three boy sous chefs asking, “What can I do?” every few minutes. And after forty minutes of a million dirty dishes we sat down to saag paneer, daal, coconut chutney, rice, naan and samosas to watch The Whale, a movie about a morbidly obese online English instructor trying to reconnect with his very angry daughter of 17. 

A Long Week of Quiet Quitting 

I took adderall every day except Friday, but I couldn’t bring myself to do a single thing. I had no deadlines, so it wasn’t negligent. But it was definitely irresponsible. Friday was for c and karaoke - my favorite and least favorite things. I’d jabber and jabber but never sing - lips too numb, confidence like a kite in a tornado. 

Bowling

My greatest weakness proved to be poor performances at bowling night. My scores slipped dramatically, halved from a 181 to a 92. I’d spent a lot of time calibrating the optimal blood alcohol levels for peak pin destruction and it was 2-4 beers. And here I was, clean as a whistle throwing gutters. You can’t sip water in frustration and smile after. You can’t go “Ahh, refreshing.” So I had a Bornx Pale Ale - forgetting I don’t really like the taste. But my score improved to 141. 

Slick’s 30th Birthday

Tonight might be the night, I thought to myself. It was miserably cold and it took an hour and two bus transfers to get there. I got in a squabble with C over dinner and I just wanted to go home or ride my bike. If I was going to the bar, I wanted a beer. I’d all but convinced myself, but then came Slick, the birthday boy, a wonder wall of sweaty exuberance. It was midnight now and we’d been in the basement dancing to DJ Preschool -- a white haired man with as many teeth as fingers and he was missing a finger. I closed my eyes and danced. That’s what alcohol does: closes your eyes. But after an hour of that I wanted something more to keep me going. I told C I might get a beer. She offered a gummy instead. I relayed this to N who laughed and told me had c. “Same,” I said and we saluted. 

Then birthday boy Nick bounded up to me. His curly hair was a frizzy halo and I smelled his swea . “Still not drinking, eh? That’s so great man. Really awesome to be out having a a good time and not rely on that. I’m so proud of you.” Little did he know. 

Vacation’s Eve

We’re bound for the capitol of capital on the Pacific Rim, leaving the very same on the Eastern Seaboard. It’s Friday and I’m home biding my time. I volunteered to be the pack mule so C could have dinner with her friend whose birthday we’ll miss. I’m tired but I wanted to write all day. Still, I’d rather read right now. I’d love to read with a beer - something to relax. Instead I tap out a line, three lines and here we go. Can’t wait for the subway and to see her parents. 

I was bored and agitated. Bored because I was reading for the fifth Friday in a row and agitated because of what I was reading: That damn lefty history of L.A. 

Lessons Learned

I learned what it’s like to do c with no alcohol. I felt my face torque, teeth gnash, heart wallop. That awareness felt awful, but it was overpowered by exuberance. 

I learned how often I introduce alcohol to situations. I’ve tended to blame my friends - a bunch of hard-drinking cows, but I too am an instigator. 

I learned drinking can be saved for social things. I didn’t need a beer at the end of a hard day. I could relax in other ways - like cooking or running or stretching or reading or writing in my diary for fun. 

[sosos-adventures]

More of Sapa:

The entire trip we were extremely lucky with the weather. No rain and lots of sunshine. The forecast for the north was always foggy and cold. But when we arrived in Sapa it was beautiful. Sadly our next trip was supposed to be the Ha Giang loop by mototbike. And this only works if the weather is nice. Otherwise there wont be any views at all. So we decided to stay a few more days around Sapa. One day juat chillin at our homestay, washing our clothes and reading. We also spent our last night there with the family again. And lets just say this time they were super rude. On the phone all the time and clearly talking and laughing about us. But hey it was an experience to be there and the room was extremely cheap. 4.5€ a night per person. The next day we were heading to another homestay. Just to get a different vibe and to be able to join some workshops. And it was so worth it. The food was way better, the hosts speaks english and is super cute/friendly. She helped us with everything we needed and organized a qorkshop in another village for us without taking any money for it. All the money we paid directly to the locals. We did 2 workshops in total. On the first day we used bee wax as a protection of a pattern we got to paint and then coloring that fabric. And this took about 4 hours. In the end we even got to wear traditional clotjing and we look.... interesting:

The process: and no I am not pregnant. Its just my fanny pack under my shirt.

And the result: (before coloring it blue.. tjis actually took one day and now needs to dry for a few days)

The next day we went to do another workshop there. And what did we do: aromatic candles. For 3.5 hours we just sat down and had one machine to fill in the "dough" that kind of looked like chocolate cake dough. And to fill it in we had to form it into little sausages. Or most like looking like the christmas vanilla cookies I usually make :) pictures and a video of the process I will have to post in a seperate post, as one post can only show one video. The workshop was also super interesting because the lady who taught us what to do told us that she doesnt know how to read or write and that she has never really been further away from her hometown. It is such a different lifestyle here and we have such a priviledge about our life circumstances. The workshop was basically held in their home - the sink to wash our hands was in their kitchen and upstairs was their bedroom. Outside there was a big constructionwork. It just showed me again how different some people live.

[shroomsandstrobs]

A New Perspective

Joshua x !femreader

Genre: Paris AU, Comedy, a little Fluff

Word Count: 1.7k

Warnings: flirting, cursing, mentions of Maroon 5, slight mention of reader's body?

Summary: An artist with a unique way of looking at the world has hers turned upside down by an unexpected customer who shows her a different way to look at the one emotion she couldn’t quite understand…the euphoric feeling of love

(chapters : 1 / 2 / 3 / 4 / 5

Chapter 1

An hour into opening and the store was already bursting with customers. Every now and then you would see a journalist wandering around in awe. You mustered a fake smile and allowed them to take pictures and you ‘happily’ answered any questions they had as they examined the store. You swiftly tuned them out, turning your attention away from the flashing of cameras and the silent murmurs of conversation.

From where you sat, you could study customers from afar as Elly and Nora helped them get started with creative works. One had mushroom earrings and a ukulele case on their back. Definitely the fairy cottage core type. They even looked like a fairy. Slender fingers and a heart shaped face. As you continued to stare, Elly’s loud but warm voice made your head snap in the opposite direction. He was cracking a joke with a customer, as usual. He loved making impressions on people. He said it was his way of “getting the word out about how A New Perspective has the hottest and funniest artists in all Paris.”

You click your tongue as you set up the papers that were in desperate need of filling out. Oh what fun being a store owner was!

In no time you worked out a rhythm with the paperwork. Read. Sign. Flip. Read. Sign. Flip. Read. Sign. Fli-

The chime of the bell at the door disturbed the rhythm. With a silent curse, you put the pen back into a drawer and looked to see who had come in.

He was a tall man. Maybe 5’10 to 5’11. He wore skinny black jeans and a fashionable trench coat. He fashioned a baseball cap which hid his face, inducing you to squint to see any features worth noting. There was definitely something different about him. He didn’t look at the paintings on the wall as all the other customers did, he just walked in a straight line towards your desk, head bent the whole way.

He cleared his throat.

“Excuse me, where can I find the artist who owns this store? I believe her name is Miss ____?”

You couldn’t believe your ears. His voice was like honey, sweet and melodical. It took you a second to stir from your daze. You lightly laughed to loosen the awkwardness in the air.

“Oh yes..that would be me! What can I do for you today?”

You could see a beautiful and sheepish smile mask his face from under his cap. 

“Great, I’ve heard all about you and your talent. I must say, you’re even more stunning in the flesh.”

Bright red flushed your cheeks and tinged your ears. Your heart was pounding. Did he just flirt with me-? Oh great heavens.

You swallowed and now realized how dry your throat was when you croaked:

“Now, now. Enough with flattering. Can we cut to the chase?”

“Ah, a woman of business. I admire that.”

You gave him a pointed look. Another hearthrobing smile appeared on his face.

“Right, well. I wanted to ask for a custom art piece especially from you, mademoiselle.”

Oh dear god, not the french.

You stood from behind your desk and took your sketch pad and laptop in one hand.

“Follow me.”

He eagerly followed, and quite easily matched your pace with his long legs compared to your short ones. You brought him to a seperate room with even more paintings. It was a bleach white color, like the front of the store, but it was less spacious. This was where you took the customers asking for custom pieces from you. You liked the quiet, it helped you work your magic.

The man quietly sat in the chair opposite of yours. You sharpen your pencil and open your Ibis Paint app on your laptop and fold it into a tablet. You take a moment to make sure everything before you begin. 

“So, what can I make you?”

“I’m releasing an album soon, and I need a cover for it. I need something to represent the songs I put in there, something unique but easy to understand what I’m getting across.”

You could see in the way his shoulders and fingers moved while he spoke that he was passionate about the topic. You thought to yourself: A musician, well this is certainly new.

You hummed to yourself as you made a note on your computer - 

Wants something unique but easy to understand.

“May I ask what exactly this album of yours is about?”

“I’d thought you’d never ask.”

You didn’t have to look at him to see the smile he brandished. It was like you could sense it in the way he spoke.

“Have you ever heard of Maroon 5?”

You stifled a laugh and managed to cover it with a light cough. Everyone knew Maroon 5, one way or another. You nodded and put your palms under your chin as you watched him talk.

“I took some inspiration from them, I love them. In the album, I sang about love and my childhood and some personal struggles.”

You noticed how his voice started to fade when he started to converse about the songs he wrote. You understood. It was normal for an artist to get shy and self-conscious about their work. You couldn’t help but grin. You quietly began to sketch a body on the paper, facing a smaller one. Maybe the man facing his younger self. 

“In a nutshell the album is about love, childhood, and struggles. Does that sound alright?”

One word caught your attention. The word you’ve been trying to avoid ever since you got to Paris. Love. That emotion that everyone wanted to feel. You never understood the concept of it. You could never express it, especially in your work. You usually had Elly help you on that topic.

You obviously had gotten lost in your thoughts as the man looked at you differently. Then you realized:

Oh fuck, I don’t even know this guy’s name. Stupid-stupid-stupid-stupid.

The shadow of the cap he still wore left most of his countenance in a shadow, but you could pick out a small frown on perfect strawberry lips.

“Did I say something wrong?”

“Oh no no no. It’s just one word that threw me off. Is all. Everything you said sounds fantastic, don't you worry.”

“What word? Uh, was it childhood? Or was it..love?”

The concern in his voice made your heart swell, but your head shut it out and focused. 

“Bingo.”

“Is it a trigger word-”

You began to rub your temples, a headache already beginning to form.

“No it’s just,” you sighed, “I never understood love. It’s the one thing that stumped me.”

You couldn’t believe you were spilling the truth to a total stranger that you didn’t even know the name to. But there was something different about him. He actually sounded like he cared about what he was saying to you. You couldn’t quite place it.

You stared at the ground. “I know you expected the best of the best. I’m sorry if you’re disappointed.”

“Hey, look at me.”

You looked up hesitantly, scared of what he was going to say. How could someone be so intimidating and somehow so trusting at the same time?

“I’m sorry if I intimidated you. I didn’t mean to make you nervous.”

A silence only disturbed by the distant chime of the bell in the front of the store was passed between the both of you.

“Ah, it’s alright.”

An awkward silence filled the small room as you just sat there, deep in your own thoughts. The man’s voice broke it.

“Can you pass me that paper and pencil please?”

“Oh, oh sure. Here.”

You passed the sketchbook and the small pencil into his beautiful hands. His one finger caressed your knuckle as he grabbed the items, causing goosebumps to appear on your skin.

He quickly wrote and when he finished ripped the small piece of parchment, folded it, and placed it in your palm.

“Miss ____, what about I show you the songs that I wrote so you won’t have to listen to me ramble. Maybe it’ll make it easier for you. And I’ll try my best to help you with that concept of yours.”

You opened the folded piece of paper which contained a phone number and an email address. But no name. Fuck.

You managed to whisper a meek ‘thank you’ as he stood up.

“We should probably go back to the front so I can pay.”

You too stood up rather quickly, gathered your things and beat him to the door. 

“Yeah probably.”

As he paid and you made sure the paper was secured in your pocket you knew that was your chance to ask for his name, but you didn’t know when, because you feared it would be too awkward. He turned on his heel and began to walk out of the store when finally you mustered the courage to ask. “Hey, wait!”

He turned around, his trench coat moving in the wind. He tilted his head in confusion.

“I don’t recall getting your name?”

A toothy grin was plastered on his face as he yelled loudly so he could be heard over the noise in the room.

“You can call me Shua.”

The rest of the day went by in a blur of helping customers make custom pieces and answering questions. Your mind was filled with the memory of the words he said.

“You can call me Shua.”

It just didn’t make sense. Joshua of Seventeen is seen at an airport. Now a man who goes by Shua shows up to your store for an album cover.

Shit wasn’t adding up.

“OHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH _________!!! LOOK AT WHAT I FOUNDDDDDDDDDD!!”

Oh lord have mercy on my soul. You quietly murmured to yourself as Elly came, quite literally sprinting towards you with Nora on his heels, trying to grab for his phone.

“Look at this shit!”

“Joshua of Seventeen spotted at a cafe near A Near Perspective.”

Reality came crashing down on you as you sat down, feeling as if your legs were jello. 

So that could’ve been Joshua, and he FLIRTED with me.

Well I’m fucked. 

[loousir]

[Naga] Snake Bites

Naga Male x Bold (& kinda dense) Artist Male Reader

Syerca

Setting: Mostly a Naga's cave deep into a forest.

Warnings: Soft lime at the end (marking/mate), bad (was the first oneshot in the original book), slight mention of naga attacking reader

Masterlist

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The fall breeze blew gently, tossing some fallen leaves around some worn shoes. The man who wore said shoes brushed away the strands of hair that had fallen into his face. He stared out into the woods, eyes following a gorgeous path until it disappeared.

"Hope you don't plan on goin' out there, " An older resident said. They were at the edge of a small cabin town. Some houses we're newer than others but that didn't seem to bother anyone. The houses were decently spaced and it was pretty active for being where most elders come to retire.

The man shrugged at the other's comment and adjusted the large hiking bag on his shoulders. "You shouldn't. Most don't make it back." The other male rolled his eyes and looked back to the elder. "I'm well aware of what lurks out there." He turned away from the other and set out on the path.

The path almost instantly secluded anyone who walked it from the chaotic world around it. He examined the terrain and all it had to offer, collecting some things along the way. His side bag was full of odd rocks and a book that had some pressed foliage, now had ones he hadn't collected before.

The walk was peaceful. Birds chirping as the wind rustled the leaves. The path was mostly covered but the leaves caused rays of light to shine through, giving him inspiration. He eventually found a spot to rest and decided to paint the path he was walking. Once his bag was set down, he pulled out a roll of canvas and laid it as flat as he could.

There were some paints and brushes in a holder in the middle of the roll and he smiled softly as he picked them up. He opened the bag and pulled out what he thought he needed as well as a small jar that held water to clean the brushes.

Close to 30 minutes had passed when he got a slight chill down his spine. He paused his painting and looked around. His eyes only saw the woods so he somewhat hesitantly went back to painting. After another 40-ish minutes passed, he finished his first of few paintings.

Luckily, the breeze dried his paints quicker than he had anticipated. He very carefully added a few layers of a sealant he had and let it dry. The same chill from earlier came around again but it was a bit more intense. He looked around as he finished cleaning and putting things away, noticing something in the distance.

Whatever he was looking at disappeared and he sighed as the now dry canvas was gently rolled and placed back onto the bag. He stood up, stretched, and continued his mostly peaceful walk, forgetting what he had seen earlier.

Some hours had passed, his periodic breaks allowing him to gain inspiration for future paintings. It was just after noon when he decided to make his own path. He pulled out a book and wrote directions so he could find his way back. In the process of creating his own path, he stumbled upon one of the most stunning places he'd ever seen.

It was a small, oasis-like area that had a magical feel to it. He stopped what he was doing and found the perfect spot to paint the scene in front of him.

While he painted, some birds had visited him and even a small snake had managed to befriend him and his paints. The snake had coiled gently around his wrist while he worked which made him smile.

The man had sat and painted the space for another 2 hours, finishing at around 2 o'clock. His (e/c) eyes looked up to the sky and he sighed, sealing his now finished work before packing everything away.

The snake was still on his wrist, not even bothering to leave so he just dealt with it. He continued on his own path for another hour. It was still fairly bright when he found himself at the entrance of a cave.

The small snake uncoiled itself and slid into a pocket on his cloak. The cave went deeper but he was cool with not going into it since he was going to leave soon anyway.

He stayed at the entrance and found a nice area to sit and relax, maybe get another painting done of what the cave looked like. It was gorgeous after all, nature framed the entrance perfectly, leaving some vines to hang down, moss covers rocks and small fungi scattered every so often.

He decided on just relaxing as he set his stuff down and leaned against a wall.

Soon enough, he had dozed off into his dreamland.

------

I ssswear I'll kill that woman...

Ssshe won't leave me alone...

The large, gorgeous albino Naga slithered through the leaves, carefully making his way to his home. He had noticed some newer prints, clearly from something with two legs, but he didn't pay too much mind to them.

He reached the cave and sighed as he entered. Bright blue eyes scanned the area and his heart sank to his stomach when he saw a (tall/short/avg) man with (h/l) (h/c) hair leaning against the wall.

Pleassse dear godsss tell me he iss alive...

He quickly made his way to the motionless body, not noticing said body's items not too far away.

If ssshe killed another human to try to pleasse me... I ssswear...

As he was lost in thought, the other stirred thanks to his intense staring and slightly heavy breathing. The human yawned and stretched his back slightly as he looked up to the Naga with a slightly annoyed expression.

"Is there something you need?"

The Naga jumped slightly and stared down at him with shock but also joy, happy he wasn't dead.

"I apologize... I wasss afraid you had passsed..."

The Naga paused for a moment while the other rubbed the sleep out of his eyes.

"Wait... You aren't... Afraid of me?"

The (h/c) shook his head and looked up to him again. "If you don't mind, I would like to take my leave." He said placing his hands on the ground in preparation to stand. The Naga stood speechless, staring at the smaller human sitting in front of him.

"Can you move please?"

With a nod and small apology, the Naga moved away from the male who carefully stood and stretched his limbs.

The white and yellow snake watched as the other took out a small pocket watch, that the small snake from earlier was now holding on to, and checked the time. "When the hell did I get so late..." The man mumbled to himself. The time read 8:11 and judging by the lack of light it was night time. He slipped the watch and snake back onto his pocket.

"Well, I better get going." He said grabbing his bag and putting over his shoulder. The Naga still stood, watching as the male walked to the mouth of the cave.

"W-wait!"

He looked back to see that the other had slithered closer and held a worried look on his face. "P-please don't leave! Y-you can't!"

"Oh yeah, and whys that?"

"I would rather not find sssuch a beautiful man ssslaughtered on my cave-step in the morning..."

Said beautiful man turned to look at him, slightly shocked at the statement.

"Pleassse just ssstay with me till the morning and I'll essscort you back to the village..." He looked frantic and genuinely seemed like he cared.

With a sigh, the other looked to the pleading blue eyes and said, "I don't bunk with strangers. I'll be fine." He turned and walked out of the cave, leaving the Naga shocked and frozen.

"Wait! I'm ssserious! Pleassse!" He followed after the human and froze once again when he saw him pinned by the she-devil herself. His bag had been tossed to the side, most of the contents falling out. She had him wrapped in her tail and smiled as he struggled to get free.

His shy demeanor had dissipated rather quickly. The small snake had gotten out of the other's pocket and hid in the nearly empty bag.

He suddenly lunged towards the woman he hated so much. She clearly hadn't noticed him before then and threw the human off to the side, his body slamming into a tree. The two of them fought as the one tossed aside slowly passed out, struggling to stay awake.

------

Soft hands gently rubbed his back as he awoke again. His (e/c) eyes looked around the best the could but they didn't see much other than a wall. His whole body was sore but those hands were working wonders. The room was warm and whatever he was laying on was extremely comfortable. He closed his eyes and let out a pleased groan.

The hands froze and pulled away quickly, making him turn his head the other way. A set of bright blue eyes were staring with surprise that the male was awake. "H-hello there..." The human smirked and slowly blinked, "Hey sexy, why'd ya stop?"

The blonde blushed and looked away. "I dessspissse that remedy ssso much..." He mumbled as his hands carefully went back to massaging. "Mmm... I'm soooo tired... Will you cuddle with me?"

"No... Just go back to sssleep human..."

"Mm... Oh-kay."

------

A soft warm light lit the room, if you could really call it a room. A rather noisy yawn resonated from a still fairly sore male. He carefully stretched and sat up, almost instantly laying back down.

"Fuuck me..."

His hand fell from what he now knows as a large hammock. Soft locks brushed against his fingers and without thinking he gently combed them, enjoying the soft and cool feeling on his slightly rough hands. The owner of said locks leaned into the hand, clearly not realizing whose hand it was.

The two enjoyed each other for a moment before the blonde realized the situation. He pulled away and sat up, looking at the still sleepy human in his bed. "Are you feeling better? Do you need anything?" He asked leaning in slightly.

"Something to drink, and maybe a name?" The Naga nodded and got a cup of water first. He sat up in the hammock carefully and crossed his legs slightly. Looking around, the room was neat yet cluttered with various items. He spot his stuff and cautiously, yet somewhat reluctantly, left the hammock to inspect them.

He sat on the large plush rug and rummaged through his own things, glad to see that everything he had was still there. Other than his canvas. He panicked slightly and looked around, immediately regretting the sudden movement.

Laying back, he closed his eyes and sighed. Mr. Naga came back and looked at the other on the ground. He hovered over him slightly till he opened his eyes. "Here, it'sss fresh ssspring water."

"Thank you." He said carefully sitting up and drinking what he was given.

"My name is Sssyerca." The other nodded. "(Y/n). Do you happen to know where my canvas is at Sssyerca?" He asked mimicking the way the other said it. Syerca blushed and nodded, moving over to a small table to grab it. (Y/n) stood up carefully from the floor and followed him to said table.

There was a large couch, clearly made for the naga, that (Y/n) sat on. Syerca sat next to him, and (Y/n) leaned on him, closing his eyes as he took in the snakes, surprising, warmth. Said snake blushed and looked down to the (h/c). He gently took the cup from (Y/n)'s hand and set it on the table.

"I hope you don't mind that I may have looked at your paintingsss..." (Y/n) shrugged and looked up to Syerca, one eye pressed against his side. "Are they ok? Physically?"

"Ah, yesss! They're fine. And quite beautiful if I might sssay..." Syerca said with a soft tone. (Y/n) smiled and looked down to the rolled canvas. He stood up and Syerca watched as he stood on the opposite side of the table. "Lie on the couch and get comfortable. Let me grab something real quick." He said walking over to his bag and rummaging around for a moment.

Syerca hesitantly did as the painter asked and made himself comfortable on the couch. (Y/n) found all of the supplies he needed and set them on the floor next to the table before sitting on his knees. "May I make a request?" He asked looking up to Syerca. The Naga nodded as he watched (Y/n) unroll the canvas. "Look cute and don't move till I say you can." Syerca blushed and adjusted slightly so that he was looking at the other.

(Y/n) started to put blobs of color onto the canvas. Syerca watched as the soft yellows and whites turned into his tail, then tans to his chest, and so on till it had gotten to his head, his face still not painted.

It had been close to 2 hours by that point but neither had seemed to notice the time go by due to being entranced by the painting. "Syerca. Could you look at me? Don't look at the painting." (Y/n) said, starting at the other's eyes. He blushed softly and looked into (Y/n)'s (e/c) eyes.

Syerca took this opportunity to examine the human closely. His (e/c) eyes we're soft yet focused, while his (h/style) (h/c) hair moved slightly with his gentle head movements. He blushed and bit his lip slightly as he looked at his lips. They were a soft pink color and we're parted slightly as he worked, the occasional blep happening due to his focus.

Many minutes had passed before (Y/n) looked up and said. "Alright. You can move again." Syerca snapped out of his trance and looked down to the canvas. (Y/n) cleaned up as Syerca turned the canvas to look at properly. His eyes shined as he looked at it closer. "The amount of detail iss amazing..." (Y/n) looked up and smiled. "You can have it if you want it. I'll put it on a frame and sign it if you do." He said with a small laugh.

Syerca looked up as his eyes widened slightly. "Really? That would be lovely..." (Y/n) nodded and said, "I'll have to head back to my home though. If you'd be willing to come with me I could do it today." He went to get his pocket watch to check the time when he heard Syerca get off the couch. (Y/n) though nothing of it but tensed when he was hugged from behind.

He turned his head slightly to look at Syerca who buried his face into the crook of (Y/n)'s neck. "Uh... What are you doing that for?" The other stayed silent for a moment before responding. "I know thisss is extremely sssudden... But... Would you be willing to become my mate?"

"... What would be in it for me?" (Y/n) asked looking to Syerca who pulled away. "Protection from any other Naga, free-range of my territory... It will finally let me rid thisss world of that vile woman that attacked you..." He said mumbling the last part. His eyes looked to (Y/n)'s (e/c) eyes and the other said,

"So you wanna be my boyfriend?"

Syerca was quiet before he broke out in laughter, his eyes closing as he did. "Yesss... I-if that'sss what humansss call... Call matesss." (Y/n) looked up and shrugged. "Ok. I'm single anyway." Syerca smiled and hugged him, gently pressing their foreheads together. "Would it be ok for me to mark you?" He asked quietly, looking into (Y/n)'s eyes.

"I-I don't know what that entails but um... Sure..." (Y/n) gently wrapped his arms around Syerca's bare torso. He gently rubbed the others back. It was smooth but the occasional line like bump came up, telling there was a scar there. Syerca leaned down to (Y/n)'s neck and placed soft kisses under his jaw. (Y/n) gasped and shivered, slightly tightening his grip on the male, not expecting what he did.

Syerca continued to kiss before mumbling, "Sssorry... But thisss might hurt..." (Y/n) was about to speak up but Syerca bit down on his neck, his canines sinking in. (Y/n) gasped and let out a small moan of pain as he hugged him. Syerca pulled away slightly and licked the spot where he bit. It left a tingling sensation behind and (Y/n) felt a bit weak after.

"Are you ok..? The mark will tell that your claimed... My ssscent will remain and only be picked up by other naga..." He gently brushed (Y/n)'s hair back. "I wish you told me that's what you were going to do..." Syerca looked away and sighed, "I didn't think you would allow me if I told you."

(Y/n) looked up to him and moved his hands from the others back to his cheeks. He gently rubbed them with his thumbs. Syerca smiled and (Y/n) smiled too. His thumbs gently rubbed over Syerca's lips, they were thin but still nice. Syerca smiled more and stuck his tongue out, showing it's slit. "I don't know what's in that... Saliva of yours but it made me feel pretty good."

Syerca moved (Y/n)'s hands from his face and interlocked their fingers. "Also what's with you and making me feel good?" He asked, resting his face on Syercas chest. "I apologize... But... Thank you for letting me... M-mark you." (Y/n) pulled away and looked up to the others eyes. "Let's get to know each other before we call it official though." Syerca nodded and rested his forehead against (Y/n)'s.

"I'll take you back to your village a little later. For now, let'sss get to know each other... Like you sssuggested..."

----

3066

Definitely not my fav but hey

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

Desperate Measures 1

Warnings: nonconsent and rape (miniseries); stalking, fear, intimidation.

This is dark!Steve Rogers and explicit. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.

Summary: At first, you think it’s a joke when you get the strange messages, but when they don’t stop, you realise too late how real it all is.

Note: This was going to be a one shot but it kept going and going and going, so it’s gonna be split in 2.

Thank you. Love you guys!

Please leave some feedback, like and reblog <3

Have a piece of American dream Open up, and swallow, on your knees And say Thank you I'd like some desperate measures, please

💌

The first picture was sent on Monday. You remembered it clearly unlike most Monday mornings. It was the same boring ritual; a coffee that had long turned cold, a pen that wouldn’t write, and a computer that ran as if on dial-up. 

The only bright side was that your small desk was near a window and you could look out onto the city streets, though they were hardly less miserable than your own existence. You were so high up the people were merely moving specks. You often found yourself distracted by the crowded traffic below.

You were drawn from such a distant reverie by the buzz of your phone. You kept it face down by your monitor. Despite the temptation, you limited yourself to succumbing only once an hour. You sat back and your chair creaked as it tilted beneath you. You checked the time in the corner of your screen and reached for your cell, the rubber case scuffed and scratched at the edges.

Notifications for the same emails that sat open in front of you and a few personal ones in the next bubble. Another for the game you played on the subway or when you were overly listless, several updates for your hoarded apps, and a single text. 

There was no number attached to the message, only the foreboding thick font that read ‘unknown number’. You chewed on your thumb as you leaned forward on your elbow and swiped your screen up and punched in your password. The screen flashed and you hit the last notification. No words, just a file. You hit download.

You blinked as it ate your data and the image of your apartment door appeared. You glanced around and laughed to yourself. You shook your head and keyed in your response; ‘very funny, Eva.’ You hit send and set your phone back down. 

Your old friend liked her jokes and you hadn’t missed her little ploy the last time she showed up at your place angry over her latest fling. You had thought she was getting a picture of the stain on the hallway carpet that looked suspiciously like blood… or feces… or a mixture of the two.

You went back to your work and switched the document you’d been picking at for most of the morning. Your job was as entertaining as watching paint dry then peel from age. When you applied for an editing position, you’d expected thrillers and melodramas. Instead, you got dry textbooks and educational guides.

You yawned and pushed through to your scheduled break. You dumped your cold coffee and headed down to the café to grab another. The coffee they kept in the office was cheap and bland. You ate your salad in the lunchroom as you watched the clock tick away. You checked your phone. No reply to that unusual text. Eva must’ve chickened out.

You scoffed and switched chats to send her usual number an ‘lol’. You tucked your phone in your pocket and punched back in before you headed back to your desk. A couple more hours and you’d be home to stew in the early week daze.

The last half of the day went quicker and your subway ride was uneventful; well, for New York. You walked home from your stop and pulled out your phone as you climbed the stairs. You slowed down and moved your feet blindly. You’d finally gotten an answer. ‘Eva?’

You opened the chat again and hit the image. It filled the screen and you squinted as you came to a stop. The stain wasn’t there. Your landlord had finally relented and had the entire hallway torn up and replaced with an even duller shade of grey. The picture had been taken since then; within the last month. The last time you’d seen Eva, you’d gone to hers.

Your chest clenched and you gulped. You hit the little icon in the corner of the conversation and hit ‘block’. You continued to your floor and neared your door. You looked down the hallway and back to your door. You tried the handle. Locked. You took a breath.

It could still be a joke. The stoner next door, Perry, had your number from when you agreed to feed his cat that one time. Maybe he was high or just trying to be funny. Still, it hadn’t come up under his name. Well, he might have changed his number since then.

You unlocked your door and scurried inside. You made sure to turn the latch and slide the chain into place. You tossed your bag beside the mat of shoes and added your flats to the pile. You dropped your phone on the coffee table and untucked your work shirt as you walked around the small living room. 

Nothing was out of place, not that you truly believed whoever it was had gotten past your door. You rubbed your forehead and went to the small kitchen that looked out into the living room. You grabbed a can of sparkling lime whatever and plopped it next to your phone.

You went to your bedroom and stripped yourself of your stiff work clothes and pulled on the night shirt crumpled atop your blanket. You looked down at the thin grey cotton and reached under to unhook your bra. You flung it in the corner knowing you’d be cursing yourself when you couldn’t find it the next morning.

You flopped onto the couch and grabbed your remote. You turned on some mindless Youtube video and opened the mobile game which had taken too much of your life from you. You connected three and four and five and somewhere in between your existentialism kicked in and had you wondering at the point of it.

You closed the app before it ate all of your battery and your phone shook in your hand. 

‘You didn’t tell me who Eva is.’ The message flashed over the top of the screen then disappeared. You pulled down the notification and hit it. You were certain you’d blocked the number. The other messages were gone though and ‘unknown number’ was still emblazoned across the top. You blocked the convo again and dimmed the screen. 

You plugged in your phone and sprawled out across the sofa. You stared at the television, a blur and a buzz to your frantic mind. 

It was dark already when you dragged yourself off the couch and heated up a microwave dinner. You ate it without tasting and your phone chimed to signal a full charge. You left it as it was on the arm of the couch and resumed your repose on the sofa. You fell asleep to the angered commentary of a gamer trying to fight a clam.

You awoke with a start. You blinked through your daze as your television showed stills of mountain and grassy fields. You sat up and grabbed your phone. You checked the time; midnight. Another message.

‘She’s the one you had coffee with last week.’ It said.

You gaped and dropped your phone. You looked around as if whoever it was would be hiding in the corner. You shook as you reached down and took the phone. You swallowed and began to type.

‘Whoever this is, this isn’t funny anymore. Cut it out.’

‘Funny?’ The response came quickly.

‘I mean it. Stop.’

‘Good night, sweetheart.’

You recoiled at the message and bit your lip to keep it from trembling. You checked your door again, the chain still in place, checked every inch of your apartment in your paranoia. Nothing. You let out a breath and took a blanket from your bed and huddled up on the couch. You turned on a playlist, not sure you’d be sleeping much that night.

💌

You weren’t sure when you fell asleep again but you rose before your alarm. You drank your coffee as the sky turned a duller shade of grey. You went through your usual morning dance and headed out the door with a bagel hanging from your mouth. You chowed down on your way to the subway. You felt your bag buzz as you stepped on the train.

You ignored it and clung to the bar as you counted the stops. You got off and stopped by the coffee shop. You ordered a black tea and headed down to your building. Your desk was as it was when you left it. The chair was tucked in and your mouse was hidden behind the keyboard. You sat and booted the laggy machine.

As you waited for it to start, you stirred around in your bag for your phone. You had another message. You dreaded opening it but the circle just kept spinning in the middle of the monitor. You hit the bubble and your phone unlocked.

You took a sharp breath as the image glared back at you. It was you, on the subway, that morning judging by the jacket, staring at the door as the photo was taken unknowingly. Your phone slipped from your grasp and you spun in your chair.

Everything was as it should be. Your co-workers looked just as dead inside as you. Your boss was boxed up in his office on a ‘conference call’. You shuddered and turned back to your desk. You burned your tongue on your tea and signed into your computer. Your phone vibrated beside your shoe and you bent to retrieve it.

‘You looked tired this morning’. The next message blipped on the screen.

You were quick to sweep the clock upward and type. ‘Who the fuck is this?’

‘Sweetheart. I don’t like that kind of language.’ The response was quick and sharp, even in text.

‘Tell me who you are? Why are you doing this?’

‘One thing at a time.’ The letters burned into your vision.

‘Who are you?’ You keyed in again. No answer. 

You set the phone down and watched it. Five minutes, no buzz. You hovered your hand over your mouse and tried to focus on your monitor. Your heart was so loud in your ears, your head began to pound.

💌

When you got on the subway at the end of the day, you looked around frantically as you settled into a seat, your bag hugged to your chest. You glanced up and down the car a dozen times over as you awaited your cue. Your toe tapped anxiously and you stood so fast you were dizzy when your stop came up.

You rushed down the sidewalk, peeking over your shoulder every other step. You didn’t say anything unusual; no one following you, no one watching. You ran up to your building and unlocked the door clumsily. 

You hurried up the stairs and down the hall to your apartment. The key slid in roughly and you turned it so quick, you were certain it would bend. You skirted inside and put the chain in place.

You looked down as your thin-soled boot brushed over something. A pile of flyers slipped through the slot in your absence. You picked them up and sorted through them, an envelope amidst the mess. On its face, it read ‘for my sweetheart’.

You hovered by the door, staring at the envelope. After a moment, you slung your bag down on the floor and placed the flyers on the end table by the lamp. You clicked on the light and ran your thumb along the lip. You carefully opened it and pulled out the paper inside. You unfolded it and your breath caught in your chest.

It was a sketch, quite well done, of you. You’d worn that sweater last week. You went to the park and walked around, sat by the fountain, tossed rocks into the babbling basin. They had been there, whoever it was. How long had they been watching?

And they had been at your door, close enough to slip this through the slot. You folded the drawing and shoved it back in the envelope. You stomped into the kitchen and tossed it into the bin beneath the counter. You backed up and gripped the other counter behind you. You felt a lump in your throat. 

What the fuck was going on?

💌

You started going in early to work; catching the train half an hour before your usual one. You left late and changed your route between the station and your building. You entered through the back, hopping the low concrete barrier between the apartments and the backlot.

Still, it only gave you a single day of peace. No messages, no pictures; and you thought the game was over. You hoped it was. That it was just a sick joke that had finally grown tiring. 

But Thursday saw another image of you just outside your work building. Friday, another of you on the subway.

The weekend was listless. You did your shopping quickly and on Sunday, you wore a loose hoodie to the laundromat. You could find nothing peculiar around you. The city was full of sketchy people but none seemed to be watching you. The hordes were still about their own lives; ignorant of those around them. You felt entirely alone, as if you were being hunted.

Monday was much the same as the last but how could it ever be dull again. You shut your phone off so you could focus on your work. When you were finally done, you dialed the toll-free number for your provider. You took a taxi home and spent two hours on the line but you got your new number and a sense of relief.

You kept your phone on, ringer on max, and nothing. You watched the screen rather than the television but it only lit up with emails and a random text from your mother. You slept in your bed that night,almost soundly.

You still kept your eye over your shoulder. Still searched out any sign of unusual interest. Perhaps you were clueless or maybe your lack of response had finally gotten through to them. Once their messages bounced back as out of service, they might have given up. They got their laughs, now you wanted peace.

It lasted until Friday. 

A full week and you were certain it was over. You finished work and stopped by the liquor store for a bottle of wine on your way home. You could finally let loose. Life had gone back to its usual tedium. You browsed the reds lazily but pondered a pack of coolers instead. Your phone buzzed. You slid it from your pocket out of habit.

‘That cabernet on the top shelf is on sale. Just to your left.’ You stared at the message and backed away from the shelf. You looked around but all the other customers seemed intent on their own purchases. You gulped and blocked the unknown sender.

You left emptied-handed and ran for the train. You got home an hour later than usual. You raced up the stairs and stopped dead in front of your door. The tall gift bag looked familiar; it had been hanging in the store by the till. You neared and peered inside. The golden cap of the wine that had stood in front of you; top shelf.

You bent and flipped the little card attached to the string.

‘For you, sweetheart. Enjoy your weekend.’

You stood and grabbed the bag. You glanced up and down the halls and stormed back down the grey carpet. Your feet hammered down the stairs and you burst through the back doors. You threw the bag into the dumpster and heard the shatter. Your lip trembled as you spun and sprinted back inside.

When you reached your apartment, you called Eva. You struggled to open your dresser with one hand and started pulling out clothes and stuffing them into your neon duffle. She finally picked up.

“E-eva,” you stuttered, “can I-- Can I stay with you, please? J-just a night or two--”

“Wohoa, whoa, slow down,” she said. “What’s going on?”

“I can’t… I can’t tell you now. I’m just-- I’m freaking out and I can’t stay here.” Your voice cracked and you sniffed back tears, “I-- Please. I’m so sorry.”

“Yeah, it’s fine. I… I have plans but I can cancel,” she offered.

“No, no, I… don’t--”

“You’ll have the apartment to yourself,” she said, “I’ll just let Ray know I’ll be late.”

“What time are you supposed to--”

“Seven but it’s fine,” she assured you. “You okay?”

“I… Wait, you’re fucking around with Ray again?”

“Do you want the couch or not?” She half-kidded, “you want me to meet you there or--”

“No, no,” you whisked into your washroom and grabbed your toothbrush, “I’m coming right now.” You returned to the bedroom and shoved an armful in the bag. “Eva… thank you.”

“Stay on the phone,” she said softly. “Please… you’re scaring me.”

“Okay,” you zipped up the duffle, “yeah, I’ll stay on.”

💌

You hung up as you came up to Eva’s building. She met you at the door, a thick silence between you as you sensed what she wanted to ask you. You weren’t sure how to tell you. You weren’t sure if you could.

You pushed the door closed behind you as you entered her apartment. It was cuter than yours, a spiral staircase led to a loft above and the curtains were lace and matched the dainty pillows on the couch. You placed your bag on the floor and she turned to you.

“Just give me a moment,” you said. She didn’t need to ask.

She went to the desk in the corner of the spacious room and turned on the ring light of the round mirror. She fished through her make-up box and pulled out her eyeliner. She was already done her base and highlight. You neared and hovered just beside her desk.

���I don’t even know…” you stopped yourself and went to your bag. You pulled out the paper you’d shoved in the side pocket on your way out. “Look.”

You crossed to her again and unfolded the sketch on her desk. She glanced down from drawing a wing along her eye and lowered the pencil. She blinked and shrugged.

“Look, someone dropped this through my mail slot. No address on the envelope, just this.” You felt crazy. “And I thought it was all some joke. They were sending me pictures, of me, of my building… I blocked them but they just kept on. I even changed my number.”

She scrunched her lips and looked back to her mirror. She finished her other eye and set the pencil down.

“You call the police?” She asked calmly.

“I… the drawing is all I have. I just deleted the messages when they came because… well, I didn’t think much of it at first. Not until… There was a bottle of wine waiting for me when I came home. The very same I was looking at right before I booked it for my train,” you rubbed your cheek, “Eva, I’m not crazy. I swear.”

“I believe you,” she said, “why wouldn’t I but… there’s nothing you can do but keep a log of what happens from here on out. Screencap everything.”

“You think… you think the police would help if I did?” You asked.

“Not much. Stalking isn’t really something they take seriously. I knew this girl in college-- Well, the evidence can at least get you a restraining order… if you ever figure out who’s sending you all this,” she paused and glanced down at the drawing. “Whoever it is, they got talent.”

“I’m sure they’d be happy to hear that,” you scoffed and crossed your arms.

“Are you sure you don’t want me to stay here with you?”

You pondered her offer but shook your head.

“As much as I think you should send Ray along, no. I can’t ask any more of you.” You sighed and grabbed the sketch. You dragged your feet to the couch and flopped down on the cushions, “I really do appreciate it.”

“I always told you to get out of that neighbourhood,” she said as she searched her assortment of make-up, “but you know I never mind you hanging out.”

💌

You spent the night on Eva’s couch, alone. She didn’t get home until three in the morning and you waited until noon for her to wake up. When she did, her face was smeared with eyeliner and her hair a mess. 

You hadn’t touched your phone since the night before. You chewed your thumb as you waited for her to emerge from the shower, restless and unsure what to do with yourself. She slammed the lid down on her coffee machine and growled as she turned and crossed her arms.

“Are you okay?” she asked sharply.

“I’m sorry,” you said as you stopped pacing. You barely remembered getting up to walk circles around the coffee table, “I just don’t know what to do.”

“Well, how about a latte?” she yawned behind her hand, “my coffee machine is fucked… again.”

“Um, maybe that’s best, get out and… distract myself,” you twiddled your fingers as your stomach ached. You hadn’t eaten anything since the day before and that was just after noon.

“We’ll get lunch,” she rubbed her forehead, “soak up the wine.”

You shook your head and said nothing. She always drank too much around Ray but you didn’t have the energy for that argument again. So you stayed quiet and watched her disappear into her bedroom.

She emerged as you zipped up your purse. You didn’t bother with your phone as you waited by the door but felt listless without the device. It was like a shield you used when you went out in the world. It kept you from eye contact or awkward conversation.

You set off and headed down the street to the pub that seamlessly shifted from brunch to ladies’ night every Saturday. You ordered breakfast tacos as you sat just inside the large floor length windows that looked out onto the shady patio. The other guest lent a sense of normalcy as they carried on their own conversations and reminded you that you were just another ant on the hill.

As you got your latte in the stemmed glass, Eva pulled out her phone and scowled at the shaking. She was so wrapped up in her texts with Ray she hadn’t even mentioned the reason for your overnighter. You were happy for it and yet, you couldn’t think of anything else.

“Jesus, I told him we were having breakfast and he’s blowing up my phone,” she huffed, “just a second.”

“Eve,” you said as she stood and slid her thumb across the screen, “our foods gonna be here--”

“I won’t be long,” she promised and lifted the speaker to her ear and turned away, “Ray, I’ll be over later, promise. I barely slept--”

Her voice trailed away as she wove between tables and pushed out onto the patio and went to the short fence to chat beyond the ears of diners. You sipped from your drink and stared down at the splintered curve of the table. You couldn’t stay with Eva forever and she was hardly any comfort in her distraction with her on-again, off-again dirt bag. Maybe, if you moved--

“There you are, sweetheart,” the low voice startled you and you sat stalk straight as a figure smoothly slid into Eva’s empty chair, “you gave me quite a scare, up and leaving without a word…”

You stared wide-eyed at the stranger across from you. Well, you knew who he was. Everyone in the city, in the country, even the world, knew Steve Rogers. He smiled at you as his blue eyes glimmered. His posture was cool and confident and it was you who felt out of place.

And you knew, it was him. The shock was not enough to fuel your denial as that feeling deep down assured you of it. That little voice that told you this was your tormentor and that you were fucked.

“I…” you breathed and blinked. You couldn’t find the words, you hardly understood the storm of emotions flowing through you. You glanced through the window as Eva threw her hand up and continued berating her phone, “it’s you?”

“I hate that it has to be this way,” he said, “you know, my work keeps me out of town so much and I just wish we had more time.”

“Wha…” you gulped and gripped the edge of the table, “why--?”

“You haven’t been answering me,” his smile fell, “I don’t like being ignored.”

Your hand shook and you kept it in your lap to hide the rising terror along your spine. You sat paralysed as he sighed and glanced around the restaurant. He tilted his head and pushed his shoulders back.

“You threw out my gift,” he said evenly, “that wasn’t very nice.”

“Go…” you uttered, “go, please--”

“Sweetheart, we’re just talking,” he took a gulp of Eva’s Americano casually, “I missed you… I miss you every day and it hurts that we have to be apart.”

Your shoulders slumped and you clutched your hands in fists on your lap. You could scream but what good would that do. He was Captain America, the first avenger, a hero. 

As if your thoughts sent a banner waving, a young kid approached the table and smiled nervously as he held one of the colouring pages supplied by the restaurant in his hands.

“Um, Captain, uh, America,” the kid stuttered, “will you sign-- Will you sign my--?”

The kid smiled through tight lips and held up the colouring page. Instead, Steve chuckled and took his cap from his head and fished around in his pocket. He pulled out a sharpie and signed the brim and placed it back on the kid’s head.

“There you go,” he said.

“Thank you, Cap!” the kid almost squealed, “oh my gosh!”

“No problem,” Steve laughed and watched the kid run back to the table where his mother sat, she waved at the man across from you and mouthed a thanks. He cleared his throat and stood as he tucked away the marker, “sorry, this is why I didn’t wanna do this in public,” he gripped his hip with one hand, “but… we’ll have our time.” He slowly backed away, “I’ll text you. You’ll answer.”

He grinned one last time and strode away. He stopped before the door as he held it open for Eva and she batted her lashes at him as she gushed. You could guess at her star struck words but couldn’t make them out. He left as she finally stopped her babbling and she almost skipped over to you.

“Oh my god, did you see him?” she trilled, “I didn’t think he’d be even better looking in-person.”

“See who?” you asked dumbly as you tried to disguise your discomfort in your latte.

“Steve Rogers,” she announced, “ugh, even without your phone, you got your head in the ground.”

[bulletproofscales]

Hi there! Can you do a Namjoon + Jin fic where Namjoon thinks he's straight until he meets Jin and falls in love?

hiii!! so given that this is mroe of a vague request i took some liberties in the writting and tried something new with the plot!! i hope you enjoy!

tags: hurt/comfort ,  internalized homophobia , anxiety , self discovery , namjoon token straight , gay club , making out , dry humping (sfw) , public space (sfw) , late talks , chubby seokjin bc i can , side jihopekook 

5.6k words

link to ao3!!

Namjoon isn’t uncomfortable, really! He isn’t…. But he can acknowledge he isn’t really in his element right now. 

Well…he is the straigth man at a gay bar; he knows he isn’t the target audience. And Namjoon is okay with that!

He is just here to be of moral support to Jimin and Hoseok, who usually come here by themselves. But tonight came with the specific purpose of “getting dicked down”, their words. And they were crazy to think Namjoon wasn’t going to come and make sure they had a safe night. 

So yeah… it was his idea to come, sexuality isn’t going to stop him from making sure neither of his friends gets dragged away by some creep. And he is trying hard to use that as a way to not regret this moral choice. In the end, no matter how hard he tries to fool himself, sitting at a stool at the bar of an LGBTQ club, isn’t really his image of an ideal saturday night. 

The drinks are good at least, and it's been about two hours without anyone approaching him fortunately. Jimin and Hoseok would’ve whined to him about that in the past, now they know better than to push. 

Namjoon is not closed minded, being probably one of the only cishet person in his friend group. Of course he’s… pondered. Considered… he even tried. 

Yeah… The big elephant in the room. Being here definitely isn’t keeping memories of it at bay. Right now, he feels pretty similar to how he felt those 2 months he lasted with his boyfriend. 

Tense, apprehensive, and like he’s somewhere he isn’t supposed to. 

It won’t be long until Jimin or Hoseok come to where he decidedly sat at the beginning of the night, and tell him they’re good to go. And he’ll be able to leave, and stop thinking about how undeserving he is of being here. 

When a hand settled between his shoulder blades, it felt too big to be Jimin’s, too knobbly to be Hoseok’s. He is already frowning as he turns over his shoulder to look, Namjoon’s expression softens when he gets a sight of the man. 

Maybe it was the gentle angling of his face, or the long straight slope of his nose, or the careful curve of his eyes seemingly traced by an artist, darkest paint used for his irises. His lips too, beautifully plump, their pink tint visible even under the club’s lighting, the tender line of his upper lips making him seem like he’s already smiling. 

Maybe, it's the daiquiri.

“Hey…” The man says easily, like he doesn’t even have to strain his voice to make himself be heard above the loud music and chatter. Namjoon can notice the way the stranger’s eyes widen a little in interest at the sight of him; smile growing confidently on his face. 

“Did you come by yourself?” It's only when he steps closer to the bar, and therefore, to Namjoon, that he gets to appreciate the sweet tone of his voice. His hand moving from the center of Namjoon’s back to wrap gently around the base of his nape. 

He can’t help but delay his answer, eyes still taking their time looking over the stranger’s face. His touches unprovoked but… then again, this is a gay bar that he is in. The angelic stranger isn’t wrong for assuming…

“I uh—I came with my friends…” Namjoon musters up a smile, nervous, tense, but a smile. He didn’t notice how trapped he had been in his own head the entire time here; clinging to this interaction in any way to distract himself. “They’re lost somewhere on the dance floor.” He even chuckles weakly as he says it. 

The stranger’s eyes glint. Properly leaning against the bar, elbow set on it, properly facing him. That easy smile still on his face, lurring Namjoon in. 

“What's your name?” For better or for worse… He doesn’t seem to be phased by Namjoon’s awkward silent batches. Tilting his head as if amused by the sight of a slightly tipsy awkward man trying to make his way through a conversation. 

“Namjoon…” He sighs it out, as if his voice wasn’t straining anymore either. As if the ease of the stranger became contagious. “Yours?”

“I’m Seokjin. My friend is also somewhere on the dance floor.” The stranger, Seokjin, chuckles as he says it. In the back of his head, there’s a voice telling Namjoon that he knows what Seokjin is here for, that he knows it's something he can’t offer. 

Selfishly, he tries to enjoy the curve of Seokjin’s smile for a little longer. 

“And I’m not much of a dancer.” Seokjin adds, his fingers beginning to rub the very edge of Namjoon’s buzzcut. He can feel his own breath stutter. 

“I somehow befriended two dance majors.” It's not just his voice that isn’t straining, it feels as if the whole club is quieting down around them. Namjoon chuckles softly; it feels like even Seokjin might be able to hear. “There's no way I'm going there.” 

It isn’t the full truth of why he is recluding himself. But the small fit of laughter he manages to coax from Seokjin’s chest and the gentle rubbing of his nape, is enough to keep Namjoon buzzing closer. Seemingly entransed. 

“We’ll have to find a way to keep busy while they’re there…”  He feels it, the gentle tugging of Seokjin's hand, subtly pulling him closer. It's faint enough that… if he wanted, Namjoon could hold himself in place. His grip of his nape so light he could probably take Seokjin’s wrist and move his hand away. 

But he doesn’t, he leans closer the way Seokjin wants him too. It's so easy to crowd his space against the bar; the slight widening of his smile enough of a reward for Namjoon. His features are so much more hypnotizing from up close. Only mustering to nod at Seokjin’s propositions at a loss of words. 

“You’d like that?” He adds, probably because of the lack of confirmation for Namjoon. Checking in… If he wanted to reject Seokjin, it should be now. 

It has to be now. 

“Yeah…Yeah I-I would.” It's only now he realizes, Namjoon never stopped leaning in, and Seokjin never pushed him away. Their noses close to brushing, breaths beginning to mix. 

Close to the point he can smell a bit of the drink Seokjin probably had earlier too; even if he handles being tipsy a lot better than Namjoon seems to be handling it. Letting himself get lost in the rhythmic caressing of his neck, in the way Seokjin licks his lips, smile widening at his response. 

And he doesn’t give Namjoon time to question himself. No time to fear or doubt. Because Seokjin closes the gap between them, slotting their lips gently. Even softer than he could have ever imagined just from looking; no matter how close. 

It can’t compare to the feeling of Seokjin’s other hand caressing up Namjoon’s arm, following the bulging of his muscles up to his shoulder; just to meet the fingers still rubbing at the short hairs of his nape. Or to the way he angles his head to deepen the kiss, Namjoon’s rhythm sloppy as he follows; it's been so long. Tongues meeting seamlessly, slow and unhurried.

He can feel Seokjin begin to separate. But after that first taste, Namjoon’s body acts on its own, reaching for the softness of Seokjin’s waist tugging him back in; this time with more intent. Feeling pride bloom in his chest when his actions coax a surprised noise out of Seokjin's lips, one that he gets to muffle and swallow down; not even audible within the loud club, but felt through the vibrations of his lips moving against Namjoon’s. Big hands squeezing where he holds Seokjin against the bar in response. 

His body buzzing with something he can’t put the name on, of having such a gorgeous man bend to his touch; as he stands up to crowd Seokjin’s space even more. Feeling the way his arms properly link over Namjoon’s shoulders in invitation as he stands up, their height is not that far off. But it lets his actions run looser, feeling perfectly out of control. 

Namjoon realizes afterwards that he is humming back into Seokjin’s mouth, low and vibrating in his chest. His body acting on its own, seamless as it reacts to the feeling of Seokjin’s soft torso against his; legs slotting in between one another as the space between their bodies ever smaller. He can feel his hands becoming restless, caressing up and down Seokjin’s plump sides; limbs becoming clumsy with desperation. As if, unable to figure out his body in the dark club, Namjoon was trying to memorize the feel of it with his hands. Groping into the pliant fat when he found Seokjin’s hips or fingers sinking in between the small rolls that stacked up his waist.

Only noticing his hums turning into downright moans from the little noise that slips out when Seokjin finally separates their lips. 

“L–let's go…” His voice sounds breathless, his lips redder and a bit more swollen. As he tries to gently guide Namjoon away from the bar, shoving him back carefully It feels like Seokjin is the one towering over him this time, as he obediently follows the man’s guidance; it's so quick he doesn’t get to ponder where they're going before Seokjin is shoving them into a bathroom stall; world blurring around him only able to stare back at the man with widened awe. 

And if Namjoon had felt desperate back at the bar, nothing could’ve prepared him for the way Seokjin pounces to kiss him. Hand cupping at either side of his strong neck; strong enough to send Namjoon to sit onto the (thankfully) closed toilet lid. Seokjin follows right to settle on top, on his lap; ample thighs spreading when they settle on top of Namjoon. At the shocking moment his hands instinctively go to Seokjin’s hips, holding him in place as their lips meet fervent and ravenous. The noise of the club muffled to the point they can actually hear each other's noises now. 

His melodic mewls into the kiss are making Namjoon’s brain swim in pleasure, letting his hands knead at his full hips. Before they continue to wander, slipping to wrap across Seokjin’s back, slipping lower to meet the curve of his ass. Maybe it's the smell of alcohol, cheap cleaning products, smoke, and sweat; but that floaty sensation in his mind is turning into a feeling of lightheadedness.

A feeling he welcomes, Namjoon doesn’t remember a time he ever felt this loosened, this relaxed. Actions seemingly flowing without consequence of his psyche. He gropes into the fat of Seokjin’s ass, moaning at the feeling of his fingers sinking in. Though he coaxes another pleasured groan out of Namjoon, when he grinds his hips at the motion. Sliding his ass across his lap; feeling the friction of their crotches in the smooth grinding of Seokjin’s pelvis. 

It's like everything stills for Namjoon then. 

At the throbbing of his dick against Seokjin, at the clutching of his own stomach in something he can only recognize as distaste. At the realization of what he is doing, and who he is doing it with. 

Something he isn’t supposed to, with someone he isn’t supposed to. 

The clutching turns to twisting, the twisting turns to the numbness and tingling spreading across his hands, making them shaky and painful. Trembling as he lets go of where his grip was keeping Seokjin close, or now, guiding the movement of Seokjin’s hips. 

He really didn’t mean to be a brute when Namjoon holds his shoulders and pulls him back, forcing them to separate. Gasping for air, heart thrumming in his chest threatening to push out. Namjoon didn’t realize when exactly was it that he stopped focusing on breathing. Right now, it's insane to believe there was a moment of the night where he wasn’t focused on it at all.

“Namjoon?” His eyes had been unfocused, staring at a random spot in Seokjin’s chest. Though the sweet tone of his voice makes his head snap out. He must truly look insane, if the way Seokjin widens is anything to judge by. “Are you okay?” 

He doesn’t know, it felt so maddeningly liberating but getting threateningly close to vertigo. Terrifying and unhinged and uncontrolled in a way that isn’t what Namjoon is. 

How did he manage to fuck up twice? 

“I–I should–I should go.” His voice sounds cracked as he tries to leave from the stall, to push Seokjin's weight off his lap. And he does, he is compliant, letting Namjoon push him away as much as he needs. He even lets Namjoon storm out of the stall, ungracefully. Not nearly as drunk but dizzy nonetheless. The stench of the bathroom feels as though it was sinking to his skin, making him reek. Making him grotesque. He stands there only for a second before realizing his lungs won't struggle any less if he stays here, suffocating in the stuffed bathroom. 

Namjoon doesn’t turn back to see Seokjin’s reaction, the guilt and terror overwhelming him too much to even bare think about it. His body is on autopilot as it stumbles through the mass of people, not caring to find Hoseok or Jimin; he’ll text them later. Once he is out, once he can breathe past the smog of sweat and smoke again. 

The bouncers are looking at him a bit suspiciously for the way he stumbles and pushes his way out of the bustling club. But it's worth it for the mouthful of fresh air he gets to inhale afterwards. It fills his lungs and makes him cold from the inside out. His clothes pressed snug and wet against his body from the sweat, Jimin and Hoseok did tell him he was using too many layers. His hands are cold with chilling sweat as he runs his fingers through his buzz cut; letting his nails dig in a little bit and drag him back to reality. 

Relief lasts only for a second, his mind gaining lucidity as it realizes what he’s done, again. 

He makes himself sick with his own sense of entitlement, the one that leads him to situations like these, of leading innocent men on. Disgusted with his ability to toy with them so easily. Somehow always realizing a little too late, when he can’t turn back without hurting, that this isn’t who he is. 

It feels as though Namjoon can’t help himself. Like he is always waiting to take as much as he can, even when he knows he will eventually have to let go, to stop pretending. Procrastinating from the inevitable parting that will have to happen; but postponing it as much as possible. 

A hand that's too big to be Jimin’s and too knobbly to be Hoseok’s taps his shoulder unsurely. He turns and still manages to be surprised to find Seokjin standing right in front of him. Phone and ID in hand. 

“It must’ve fallen out of your pocket when you rushed off.” His tone isn’t accusatory, but Namjoon still shrinks under the guilt taking them from him. 

“Thank you… You could’ve just given it to the staff.” A nervous but thankful smile grows on his face, though he can’t dare to look Seokjin in the eye.Instead focusing on the jacket he either didn’t notice he had on the entire time they met, or Seokjin just didn’t have on until now.

“I know, but I needed an excuse to come check on you…” It's the equally timid and slightly guilty tone of Seokjin’s voice that makes Namjoon’s gaze snap up to meet his eyes. “Are you…alright? Was it too much?” Thick eyebrows don’t look nearly as cunning as he remembers them with how they scrunch up in worry. The contrast leaves Namjoon a little speechless, along with the words coming out of Seokjin’s mouth right after. 

“I shouldn’t have pushed too much without asking, I’m really so sorry Namjoon-ah.”

It's the ridiculousness of that statement, how far off Seokjin is from the actual truth that pushes Namjoon to stop being a coward and explain himself. The first person to hear of him and his sexuality being a complete stranger. 

“No!” He reassures at first, a little too loudly, hands even reaching for Seokjin before quickly retreating back to curl at his sides. “No you… You did nothing wrong I promise.” That first part is easy, it's what comes next that's dreadful. 

Much like spending the night at a random bar by himself for the sake of his friends, opening up about things he’s worked his ass off to repress also isn’t Namjoon’s ideal image of a saturday night. Yet Seokjin looks at him not like he is waiting for an explanation, but worried for Namjoon’s trembly state.

“I’m straight.” He explains, the way he has actually practiced to say before coming to the club; preparing in case anyone approached him. Sighing out with an apologetic tone clinging to his voice, guilt trickling evident in his face. And that would be enough, if he actually managed to say it before anything happened. 

Now… after the way he treated Seokjin, it's not nearly enough. 

“I–I really just came here for my friends… I didn’t plan on-one meeting anyone.” Seokjin’s expression is stoic and suddenly unreadable. Scarce of the charm that made his intentions with Namjoon so obvious when they first met, and making him unreadable. So he continues. “I dont–I dont know why I didn’t tell you or why I didn’t stop y-you but I–I can’t I’m sorry… I’m really really sorry…” His hands move frantically in front of him as if to make a better excuse for himself. 

“Okay…” He sounds like he is processing the amount of words just dumped on him. “Well… Here’s your phone and your ID…” Namjoon had been so focused in keeping his own eyes on him, that only now he notices Seokjin’s eyes avoiding him. Rather staring down at their hands as Namjoon’s belongings are given back. “Maybe buy a jacket with pockets that have a zipper.” Seokjin tries to chuckle, but it's toned down. 

Namjoon takes the harrowing guilt with open arms, feeling his heart sink at the other’s mannerisms. He nods instead, quickly as if he was being scolded. “Yeah... Yeah thank you, again.” He puts them back in his jackets. Using that moment as an excuse to look away, to give Seokjin those few seconds to back away and go back in the club; if his night hasn’t been completely ruined by Namjoon yet. 

But when he looks back, Seokjin is still there. 

“I might just keep you company until you settle a little bit… You’re still shaking.” He can tell he is trying to make it sound lighthearted when he breaks the silence. Though Namjoon can only stare at himself  a bit in awe at the fact that yes, his hands still tremble even as they stay a bit in front of Seokjin. 

Huh.

He nods before he can get his lips to formulate the short and awkward: “You don’t have to…” Seokjin begins to guide them away from the club entrance. And when he sits on the curb, he looks up at Namjoon expectantly. Making his complaints die in his mouth, as he wordlessly follows sitting down next to Seokjin. 

“I don't feel like going back in anyways.”  His eyes are immediately directed away from Namjoon once he takes seat. Maybe the dim streetlight and blue neon sign of the club are fooling him, but he could swear Seokjin’s cheeks had a slightly reddened tint. 

“Ouch.” The nervous chuckle is telling of how uneasy he still is with Seokjin’s company. 

“You deserved that.” At least this time he side-eyes Namjoon to tell him, the joke still holding too much truth to be properly funny. He still takes it as a win. “You weren’t the only one going out of their ‘comfort zone’.” His sentence finishes with a humorless snort. 

It stuns Namjoon because… As deserving as he is of it, this is the first time getting this type of backlash. Hoseok and Jimin all too kind of the confused mess he was after the breakup. And his ex all too devastated, and Namjoon too much of a coward to give him the time to voice out his hurt before leaving. It feels… chilling. 

Seokjin sounds as frustrated as Namjoon feels. 

“That's the thing, it's not out of my comfort zone.” His voice trembles as he says it, even if it comes out as strong with exasperation. “It doesn’t feel out of my comfort zone when it's happening.” Namjoon can hear his heart pounding out of his chest, frantic and spastic; drowning out the revealing confessions coming out of his mouth. But Seokjin didn’t stop him; and much like it happened before: Namjoon couldn’t stop. 

“As soon as I start thinking it stops feeling right. Because I know that what I’m doing is wrong!” His voice gets stronger, the anger and resentment he has hoarded for himself making his voice strain with irritation. 

“Being with men is wrong?” Seokjin interjects, his raised eyebrow only making Namjoon widen and snap out of his rage fit. 

“No! Just… Toying with them like this and leading them on, when I know I’m straight!” It comes out as a whine. Turning to Seokjin with pleading eyes, advice, a slap to the face, anything. 

But Seokjin gives him nothing of that, just a puzzled look. “If the guy is enjoying it, and it doesn’t feel wrong to you… Why is it wrong?” He sounds so genuinely puzzled over a question that sounds so simple. So simple it's something Namjoon’s anxiety ridden brain had gone completely over.

The confusion in Seokjin’s eyes is contagious. As Namjoon feels his own rage sizzle out, frowning to himself as if to think what he could possibly tell Seokjin to explain himself.

Instead, this is what comes out.

“B–because I’m straight…” The conviction tries to be so strong in his voice; but it fails miserably. 

And the unconvinced silence that comes after only makes Namjoon’s wavering uncomfortably evident. 

“Did you ever give yourself more than 2 minutes to prove otherwise?” There's a mocking chuckle coming out of Seokjin's (infuriatingly) plump lips; clear to reference what happened inside the club a few minutes ago. But right now, mockery isn’t what Namjoon needs. He can feel the way his own expression dies out into something defensive, and angered. 

“I gave it 2 months. Is that enough?” Namjoon doesn't yell, but his shielding sarcasm is blatant. His tone venomous, as he stares at Seokjin probably ragefully, and Seokjin simply stares wordlessly with wide eyes. 

His lips begin to move to respond. But two palms, that Namjoon does recognize as the smallness of Jimin’s and the daintiness of Hoseok’s, slam against his back. 

“We’ve been looking all over for you!” Jimin’s tone is worried and he is still yelling as if he was inside the club. 

“Pick up your damn phone for once, Joon-ah!” The whine comes from Hoseok, at his other side, cheeks flushed red. “We are going back to ours.” 

“With him.” Jimin giggles pointing back, and all four of them turn to see a random chubby guy that, if Namjoon's deductions are correct, refused to follow Jimin and Hoseok to talk to a group of random people. 

“That's Jungkook.” Surprisingly it's Seokjin that speaks. “He came with me, he is innocent.” He deadpans, and it seems enough for both of Namjoon’s (probably tipsy) friends, as they nod and rush back to ‘Jungkook’. 

“We’ll return him in the morning.” Hoseok smiles one last time before walking off tugging Jungkook to a cab. Leaving Seokjin and Namjoon to follow them with their eyes, and… inevitably leaving them alone…. after Namjoon’s little outburst. 

“So… wanna get ice cream?” The casual tone of his voice is unbothered enough to actually startle Namjoon. Completely unaffected by the obvious awkwardness between them. 

And despite everything… “You’ll have to pay for the uber there.” 

“I was designated driver for the night.” He is smiling smugly as he says it. But all Namjoon can think of is the confirmation that Seokjin must’ve been sober the entire time of his advances; warmth blooming in his stomach at the thought. “You can tell me all about those 2 months.” The domesticity of his tone stops sounding tonedeaf to the awkwardness, and it turns into… actual friendly interest. 

“Al-Alright.” He nods, lifting himself up from the curb and offering his hand up to Seokjin, who takes it. Huffing a little as he stands up as well. 

The walk to Seokjin’s car is bizarre, it feels like it should be uncomfortable, yet Seokjin’s demeanor looks completely unaffected: his walk relaxed as he pulls his car keys. Old looking, with a cartoon character Namjoon doesn’t recognize hanging from the rearview mirror. 

The need to fill out the silence isn’t suffocating as Namjoon would have anticipated, but he asks anyway. “What ice cream shops are open at 3 am in the morning?” 

“Oh, there aren’t any, we are just going to McDonalds.” He snorts and begins to drive with ease through the empty streets, soulless techno music playing through the speakers. Music that gives Namjoon all the time in the world to think about the situation he is in right now… in a random stranger he failed to hook up with, going out for dessert… and probably confess all his deepest feelings to. 

He should definitely feel more out of place than he does right now. The trip to McDonald’s isn’t long enough to let him force himself into feeling anxious. Because seemingly suddenly, Seokjin is going around to the drive through. 

“Good evening, I’m going to have an m&m McFlurry with chocolate sauce and…” He turns to Namjoon then, wordlessly. 

“Mixed vanilla and chocolate cone.”

“And a mixed vanilla and chocolate cone. Thank you!” His tone definitely sounds cheerful for any 3 am customers, handing the two ice creams to Namjoon as he parks in one of the many empty spots. Immediately taking the McFlurry from his hands and digging in. “I definitely needed something sweet to finish the night off…” Seokjin’s voice sounds muffled from the eating. But he is met with silence, Namjoon just staring at him; like it was just now dawning on him that he is talking with a random stranger. 

As if he was reading his mind, Seokjin adds. “You know you don’t have to tell me anything you don’t want to, right?” There's a worried smile on his face, plump cheeks making the curve of his smile slightly overlap at the end. A detail Namjoon only would have been able to tell under the neon yellow of the McDonald’s sign. 

And of course he knows…

“I do want to, it's just… not one of my most noble and great moments.” Namjoon tries to smile and lighten the heaviness in his chest from the guilt. The memory alone is still vivid and jarring in his conscience. 

“You were making out with the hottest guy you’ll ever get and you ran away… I’d say I’ve seen you do worse.” His tone has no malice, joking innocently before his expression softens. “Tell me.” Gentleness evident in his voice, lurring Namjoon in such a different way than he did back at the bar. 

“I already hurt someone before, just like this.” The first words are the hardest to slip out, but he sees the way Seokjin is giving Namjoon (undeservedly) his entire attention. “He was in our friend group and we were especially close and you know… All my friends are gay so I was always open to you know… the possibility.” His voice dies down once he feels himself getting too carried away. 

“You were open to a guy coming in and sweeping you away.” Seokjin adds once he notices the growing timidness.  

“Yeah...” “Did he do that?” His voice is much more careful when he comments this time.

And Namjoon is more careful with his answer as well. 

“Kayee… was really good to me.” He can’t help the way his own tone becomes tender at the mention of his name. “And I felt like I could be myself around him, we got each other, you know?”  Namjoon’s eyes had settled for his own lap, but when he looks up Seokjin was nodding. 

“He wasn’t straight?”

“Openly pan, and I didn’t think twice about it until I started doubting my own feelings for him.” He feels his mouth run dry, and takes a break licking into his cone. “I mean… we were so close, what else could it have been?” His eyes are looking at Seokjin like he is genuinely looking for an answer. And before he tries to fumble out an answer, Namjoon soothes him by continuing himself. 

“Looking back at it, it feels like it could’ve been so good. But as soon as it started I couldn't enjoy any moment of it.” It's hard to hide himself and how frustrated he feels. “It was my first relationship with a man so I figured I just… had to get used to it.” 

“Did you feel bad from the get go?” When Namjoon nods, licking his ice cream, he asks. “Did you tell him?” And when a sigh is the automatic response that the question evokes out of Namjoon, he knows he has a lot to unpack. 

“He was the first one to confess, which I thought of like…a sign that this thing could work…. That we could work.” His eyes can’t look at Seokjin’s now. “So I didn’t want to make him feel like I was unsure, or like I was having doubts from the start.” 

“So you just waited it out?” The gentle tone of his voice is shocking enough it makes him look up at Seokjin.

A sad smile spreads on his face. “Tried to.” 

“Two months is already too long of a time to be stuck in a cycle like that… And what happened?”

That's the worst part, the one he is ashamed about the most. 

“I didn’t even have it in me to break up with him, even when I knew I wasn't happy. Or even acting happy enough to convince him…” There's a small victory in the fact he can at least keep eye contact as he says it. 

“I was too much of a coward to even break up with him, Seokjin. He had to do it, and I got to play dumb and detached the entire time. Just hurting him as he tried to salvage us!”

Namjoon realizes a little too late how worked up he was. Yelling over something he has no right to feel angered over. He cuts himself off, seemingly shrinking into the old passenger seat. 

“You look like you’re about to apologize, don’t.” He didn’t even get to open his lips again before being shut up. “I asked, didn't I?”

“You did…” 

“So you won’t.” “I won’t apologize.” 

It feels like he's done the first right thing of the night when Seokjin beams at his response, eyes lightening up and beautiful lips curling to a smile. 

“Don’t look so proud, I didn’t achieve anything.” There's a joking tone to Namjoon’s voice, but his smile is genuine, a little taken aback by the warmth from the other’s face. 

“Well… I can’t tell you if you're straight or not, Namjoon-ah.” He chuckles, discarding the last of his ice cream; having had all the time to finish while the other vented. “If that's what you're implying.” Seokjin gives him a side eye before continuing.

“But… If you’re honest to someone upfront, I think they wouldn't have any problems just testing things out…” Suddenly he isn’t looking at him as he finishes that sentence, shrugging it off. 

His jaw drops for a second, before he can properly let out a wheezing laugh. Making him fold over himself against the deck fo the car, hand slamming against it, while the other has to focus on not crashing the melting abandoned ice cream cone. 

“After everything, I’ve told you! You want to date me, you just said that!” He is still wheezing, probably too loud for anyone sober to endure at the prime hour of 4:03 am. But he can’t hold back, scratchy but squeaky laugh echoing in the car. 

“Stop painting me like I have bad taste, and stop putting words in my mouth!” Seokjin is showing at his shoulder in a  failed attempt to make him budge; yelling just as loud and inappropriately, jokingly outraged. “I���m just saying you're allowed to experiment if you want!” His voice gets a few pitches higher when he is arguing like this. Making it all that much more funny to Namjoon's ears.  

“Do you want me to experiment?” It sounded funnier when he thought it in his head as they laughed hysterically inside the car. But once it came out and their laughter had begun to die down, it just sounded plain flirty. 

And he’d be mortified by it if he didn’t see Seokjin’s expression completely widen into genuine shock. Jaw slacking open as he palms his lips. “You did not just twist my good genuine advice into that.” 

“Just answer the question, Seokjin.” Even with a joking tone, these flirty types of conversations is something he could've never done before. Yet they feel so easy now, with the weight of his chest, with the pressure gone. Leaving him breathing room for his heart to skip a beat at the sound of Seokjin’s giggles. 

“No but seriously answer me, can we go to your place? I’m pretty sure my friends are fucking your friend back at mine.” 

[irrelevantwriter]

House Call

Pairing: Rio (Good Girls) x Female Reader/You

Rating: Explicit, NSFW

Warnings: Language, vaginal fingering, unprotected vaginal sex, mention of bodily fluids, reader being scared and horny, Rio’s BDE (y'all know what's up)

Word Count: 4.2K

Summary: Part 1. Rio shows up unannounced to talk business. Among other things. 

A/N: It’s here...it’s happening. It took me a whole 2.5 seconds to become obsessed with Rio once I started watching GG. Ya’ll know how I roll. Anyway, this is me just dipping my toe into the water. I didn't get too deep with a plot (spoiler alert: there isn't any). It’s essentially just reader-insert into the show’s current plot, but with some smut thrown in. For fun. I hope you guys like it. Feedback is that good shit. 💗

*Added a Part 2! Read it here.

*Give and Take series masterlist

*Masterlist in bio.

***********************

“You okay?”

The sound of your friend’s concerned voice filled the line, pulling you back to the moment and the conversation you’d been engaged in before you’d burnt yourself in the spray of hot water.

“Yeah, just washing dishes.” You explained, cradling your cell between your shoulder and cheek as you maneuvered dirty dishes under the spout of water.

“So the meeting with the principal? How’d it go?” Rachel asked, getting you back on track.

You sighed, beginning to scrub at a stubborn coffee stain left behind on one of your favorite mugs.

“Fine. The kids are still having a hard time with the divorce so it’s…” You paused, unsure of how to describe the child-like brooding your son and daughter had taken to participating in since you’d separated from their father.

“Tense? Difficult? Weird?” Rachel listed off helpfully.

“All of the above.” You deadpanned, still scrubbing.

“You take the rest of the day off?”

“Yeah, I’ve gotta figure out what I’m going to do with these kids. Paul said he’d come over later to talk it over.”

“How incredibly thoughtful of him.” Rachel replied, sarcasm and disdain dripping from her words.

“Well, it’s a start. And as much as I’d like to tell him to fuck off, I can’t. He’s still their dad.” You explained for the hundredth time, feeling the stress of your situation with your ex starting to creep into your body. Your shoulders felt stiff and your head began to throb with a dull ache. It was a familiar reaction these days. One you loathed.

You opened your mouth to steer the conversation elsewhere when the doorbell rang, chiming throughout the empty expanse of your home.

“Paul?” Rachel asked, obviously hearing the alert of someone’s company over the phone.

“I guess. Look, I’ll call you later.” You said with another sigh, this one more tired than annoyed. You gave up on the stained mug and moved onto drying it, shutting the water off as you did.

“Okay. Good luck.”

“Thanks.” You ended the call, aware that you were short with her, but unable to feel sorry for it. You had plenty of other things to worry about, none of which involved your shitty ex or his new girlfriend.

You placed your cell on the counter and turned to make your way to the entryway, mug still clutched in your hand. The ceramic cup dropped to the floor and shattered into pieces when you saw who was already in your kitchen. You gasped, clutching your chest and yelping at the familiar man in black, the dark ink splattered across his throat the first thing you noticed. Your heart leapt, your body going rigid at the unexpected visit. Pop-ups like this were never a good sign.

“I let myself in.” Rio supplied, voice low and thick with authority and charm. He wore a smirk, lips upturned at your surprised reaction. He always seemed amused by you. That fact only served to unsettle you further.

“What’re you doing here?” You managed to say between shaky breaths, fear making your own voice quiver.

“Just checking in, mama. Can’t I do that?” He challenged with his arms spread wide, daring you to say otherwise.

You didn’t.

You went to move around the large kitchen island but the shards of broken mug prevented you from getting far on bare feet. Rio took notice and strode towards you, all clean lines and hooded eyes. He had a swagger about him that radiated. It sent a clear message about the kind of man he was. Confident. Skilled. Smart. There was an ease in his movements, but a beast lay in wait inside, ready to strike when the need arose.

His piercing gaze took in your dress, uncaring of being discreet or polite. He appraised you from the tips of your painted toes to the top of your head. It was as unnerving as it was thrilling. He crowded your space. He always did. While the scent of him filled your nostrils. Something spicy, but pleasing. It sat in your nose, and you knew from previous experience that you’d smell it for hours after.

You swallowed, wanting to avoid his close proximity. You hastily bent down to gather what you could of the jagged pieces, moving around his sneaker-clad feet that stood before you. You tried to ignore his presence, tried to appear calm and composed. It was an uphill battle. The man always knew how to throw you off. He knew how to keep people on their toes. It was yet another facet of him that you both coveted and despised.

You hissed, feeling the edge of one of the shards dig into the tip of your finger. You stood and sucked the tip into your mouth, trying to clear the area of the blood that had started to surface. His eyes were on you, watching you with interest and a certain level of lust that you didn’t allow yourself to explore. You stiffened when he reached for your wrist and pulled your finger away from your lips. He inspected the cut, his flesh warm and soft against yours. It was a side of him that eclipsed the man you’d come to know over the last several months.

“It’s not bad. I’ll be fine.” You whispered, attempting to pull your hand free of his. It was futile.

“Band aid?”

“Uh...yeah. In that drawer. Next to the stove.” You pointed in the direction of the drawer, holding your breath as he retrieved the item. This time, you watched him. Watched as he unwrapped the bandage and tended to your finger with all the care of a parent with their child. He held the appendage steady as he got ready to wrap it, but he stopped himself. He locked eyes with you instead, making you shiver.

“I make you nervous.”

It was a statement. A very true statement. And yet you found yourself shaking your head; ironic because your voice felt too unsteady to use.

Your heart stopped when he placed a tender kiss to the cut. The air around you crackled with heat and tension. It was unlike any feeling you’d ever been subjected to before. It was danger mixed with primal fascination...attraction. And it called to you like a raft in a sea of treacherous waves.

He ignored your silent response and sealed the band aid over your finger, ensuring the ends were smooth against your skin. He didn’t let go of you.

“Don’t lie to me, okay? Trust is an important thing. And we’ve gotta have it if we wanna keep doing business together.”

His calm demeanor and gentle chastising made you a puddle of obedience. Your need to please wasn’t just born from fear. It was something you’d been unable to come to terms with until now. You saw it for what it truly was. You wanted to please him. In as many ways as he’d let you.

You nodded in response, agreeing to his statement.

“Let’s try it again then, yeah?” He started, eyes roaming your face. “I make you nervous, don’t I?”

“The constant threat of my life makes it difficult for me to be calm.” You said, choosing to still be untruthful. 

You forced yourself not to fidget as his stare scorched your skin. His black eyes roamed across the open expanse of your collarbone and to the modest neckline of your wrap dress. He licked his lips as he focused on the measured breaths of your chest, your breasts rising with each pass.

“That’s not the only reason.” He retorted with a shake of his head. He leaned in close, noses almost touching as he spoke. “Don’t move.”

You said nothing as he bent down, continuing your failed task of picking up the broken bits of ceramic. You observed him dutifully gathering each piece, piling them into one large hand. His face looked pensive, as if he was trying to solve an equation in his head. You leaned against the island for support and bit your lip, unwilling to give into the lecherous thoughts that haunted you at night and managed to infiltrate your dreams.

“Nice dress.”

His compliment made you pause, looking down to meet that familiar smirk. He’d set what was left of the mug onto the counter, the floor relatively clear of large fragments. His fingers now played with the hem of said dress, the flowy material dancing in the air and away from your body.

“Thanks.”

Your voice was small. The apprehension so clear that you could both taste it. He found it funny. You found it humiliating.

He slowly straightened, taking the fabric with him as he gathered it to just above your knees.

“Color looks good on you.”

Again, the juvenile warmth of his praise sent you reeling further into anxiety’s waiting arms. Inwardly, you were responding to every lick of his lips and quirk of his eyebrow. Your thighs shifted restlessly against each other, waiting for that satiation that you hadn’t felt in forever. Outwardly though, you remained as skittish as a wild horse. You were as much on the edge of pleasure as you were on retreating.

“Thanks.” You said with a pleasant smile, wanting to conceal the yearning that bubbled just under the surface. You smoothed out the hunter-green fabric that rested against your abdomen, hoping to urge his hands away from you and the dress.

No such luck.

Instead, he ran his fingers up your skirt and along the outside of your thighs and hips, almost meeting the edge of your lace panties. Your traitorous body showed its hand, your nipples hardening in eagerness. Rio’s gaze predictably caught the action. And his face showed his approval.

“How long you been divorced?”

You furrowed your brows in confusion at his sudden curiosity. But the switch in topic had you alert again and somewhat clear of the fog he was so insistent on throwing you into.

“Why? What does that have to do with anything?” You questioned, stepping back from his body.

His hands fell away from you finally, but they didn’t stay idle for long. They skimmed over your hips, pressing your backside into the edge of the kitchen island.

“Answer me, mama.” He demanded, head craning down to meet your eyes. The intensity of his stare made you shift on your feet. He had an amazing poker face. A skill that left you envious.

“Two years.” You dutifully supplied, leaning backwards every inch that he moved in.

“It’s been that long then.” He commented with a nod, a finger tracing along the neckline of your dress, hovering just above your cleavage.

“That long for what?” You asked, taking note of the subtle ways in which his face changed. There was no trace of the teasing, light-hearted flirting that you’d become accustomed to seeing from him. He was serious. Almost as serious as the times he’d threatened your life. His touch was more insistent, telling you what he wanted rather than hinting. His mouth lowered to your ear, his nose brushing against your neck in a far too erotic manner. Your fingers itched to anchor yourself to him. You denied the request.

“Since someone stretched you out.”

A gasp caught in your throat, though you didn’t know if it was more from his words or his touch. He’d managed to slip a hand under your dress, tracing the crotch of your panties with a dexterous finger as he spoke.

“Wh-what do you mean?” You stammered, knuckles tightening against the edge of the counter you were currently gripping.

“I mean…” Rio started, lips brushing against the shell of your ear with each syllable. His finger barely teased your slit, but his voice more than compensated for the lack of physicality. “You haven’t had someone here,” He emphasized the word with a firm press of his finger against the soaked material that hid your clit from view. “In two years. Maybe more.”

You whimpered, biting your lip as he continued to manipulate your body. Your head screamed at you to stop, to pull away. But the sensation of his body pressed so firmly to yours was far too comforting to deny.

“You don’t know that.” You attempted, though the effort was obviously pointless. It was true. Since your separation and subsequent divorce from Paul, you’d barely been on a date, much less had sex. Your body was fiending for it...for him. And he knew it.

He scoffed, finding amusement in your words. He pressed his finger along the same dampened area, seeing your eyes roll into the back of your head. He licked his lips when your hand shot out to grasp at his wrist.

“Yeah, I do.” He affirmed with a nod, finger still teasing over your lace-covered slit. “He stepped out on you, didn’t he?” He continued, his eyes taking stock of the way you responded to his touch.

You had trouble focusing on the conversation he insisted on having while his hand was up your dress and practically in your underwear. You didn’t feel the need to supply an answer anyway. He already had all the information he needed.

“He didn’t deserve you.”

You were jolted back to reality by his words, straightening your spine and pushing his hand from between your legs.

“And what? You do?” You threw back, agitation seeping into your tone. You felt like he was patronizing you. He was always one step ahead. Always aware of the skeletons in your closet before you were.

“Never said that.” He said with a shake of his head, not stepping out of your space. His hands were off your body now, but the stains they’d left on you would remain there. They wouldn’t easily be erased. And you weren’t entirely sure that you wanted them to be.

“Why are you here?” You asked, trying to sound more confident than you felt.

“Business.”

“A simple call or text works for that.”

“Wanted to come in person.” He said with a shrug of his shoulders. He wore an expression of smugness, as if he knew something you didn’t, which was often the case.

“What do you want then?”

“Why don’t you tell me?” He retorted swiftly, lips pulled into a thin line.

The seriousness was back, his eyes nearly swallowing you as all humor became sucked from the room. The nerves in your stomach came back full force, the fear aiding them in their efforts. He was challenging you, apparently done with your lying.

“I…”

You didn’t know what to say. Didn’t know how to even begin. He was too intimidating. Just too much.

“I-I can’t.” You finished lamely, shaking your head and looking down at your feet.

He tilted your chin up, his mouth only centimeters from yours as he dared you to move.

“Just say the word.” He rasped against your lips, his free hand cradling your cheek.

You let yourself stare back, taking in his dark lashes and the angles of his face. He confused you on many levels, angered you beyond belief. He made your life a living hell. And yet, you wanted him more than anything. More than the money and the thrill of crime. And somehow he was privy to it all. And he wanted to give it to you.

So you were going to let him.

“Kiss me.” You breathed out, your hands finally coming to rest on his chest.

He needed no further encouragement. His mouth settled over yours in a tangle of lips and tongues. He tasted like mint, his lips much softer than they looked. The scratch of his facial hair only added to the moment as you pressed further into him, asking him to take more.

He did.

His hands were rough, but not unpleasant as they trailed along your body. They had the marks of healed scars. Not to mention the blood of those who chose to cross him. They were everywhere and all at once. Your breasts, your neck, your waist, your ass. He kneaded where he knew you yearned for more and tenderly stroked the areas in between. You struggled to keep up as his hips pushed into yours, his own yearning making its presence known.

“We shouldn’t do this.” You managed to say between heavy breaths, Rio’s mouth attaching to your neck and sucking near your throbbing pulse.

“Why not?” He mumbled into your skin, hands unwilling to slow down.

“Things will get complicated.”

He pulled himself away from the crook of your neck, his thumb running over your kiss-swollen pout.

“Yeah, they will.” He said with a chuckle, that devilish smirk staring back at you.

It was all a blur after that.

Limbs intertwined together as you worked on the buckle of his pants while he pushed your dress up and over your hips this time. He harshly pulled the lace away, the elastic snapping against your thighs as it got caught before making its way to the floor. Your mouths didn’t separate, not even when he lifted you onto the counter. He pulled one side of your dress away, exposing the matching bra you wore underneath. Your pebbled nipples called to him and he responded, massaging the flesh with expert precision. You moaned and writhed like a woman possessed. Like a woman that hadn’t been laid in two years.

“Feels good?”

The roughened gravel of his voice made your walls spasm, the hint of self-assuredness causing a wave of arousal to seep from within you. You could only nod, wordlessly pleading with him to continue on. His touch ventured south to your spread thighs. You widened them, allowing him access to the place you needed him the most. He didn’t disappoint.

His fingers were long and probing as they penetrated your sex, slipping easily in. You gasped at the fullness, the stretch around him making your eyes squeeze shut. He let your body guide him as he rubbed at your clit, his fingers curling against your walls.

“I’m...god...I’m gonna cum.” You confessed, only somewhat embarrassed by the suddenness of your climax.

He worked hard and faster. Your nails dug into his back, your mouth landing on his shoulder as you struggled to not cry out. You bit down when the euphoria of orgasm washed over you, trapping his hand within you. He could feel every tremor he brought forth as you shook in his arms. It felt like it lasted for hours, your body unwilling to let the feeling be a fleeting moment in time.

“You still with me?” He asked, lips pressed to your temple.

You nodded, hissing when he removed his fingers from the confines of your body. You watched, feeling as if you were in a daze. He shifted his pants and boxers down, revealing his length to your ravenous eyes. The hand that had been so deeply embedded in you now wrapped around himself. He was long and hard, as rigid as his hands. You felt like a moth to a flame, hand reaching out to feel if he was real. He was.

You swiped your finger over the tip of him and were overcome with wanton pride at feeling the moisture that sat there. His jaw clenched in a way that you’d only ever seen him do in anger. He didn’t allow you to continue. In an instant he was wedged between your thighs, his body already pushing into your waiting sex. Even with the climax from his fingers, he was a tight fit. You both expelled breaths, his a mumbled curse and yours a throaty moan. You shut your eyes as a new burst of pleasure radiated from your core and traveled up your spine. There was only a brief moment of intimacy as he sat unmoving within you, letting your body adjust to him.

It was short-lived.

“Fuck...” He cursed as he began to fuck you into the counter, hands holding your hips in place.

You wrapped your arms around his neck as he lavished yours with kisses and bites, each thrust of his hips causing his teeth to graze your skin. The chill of the marble countertop beneath your bare ass cooled your overheated skin. You bit your lip so hard you could taste blood as he filled you over and over, each pass making your walls accept more of him. He was deep and hitting that gloriously elusive spot that sat within your womb. 

He cupped your breasts while you scraped your nails down his back, hearing him growl in response. The sound made you yearn to hear more. So, you did something you’d always wanted to do...you licked the ink on his throat. You decorated his skin with tantalizing kisses, your tongue aiding your actions. He shivered against your lips, the reaction making your walls clench around him. He was, at least for the moment, a slave to your ministrations. And it was a high unlike any drug you’d ever encountered.

It was animalistic fucking at its finest. He hit every nerve, soothed every ache. The union of your bodies was enough to send you sailing off the proverbial cliff, but his touch kept you tethered to solid ground, longing for more. He rocked his hips mercilessly into you, making your back arch at an almost painful angle.

“Right there, huh?” He teased, feeling you squeeze around him in raw desire. “Yeah, that’s the spot.”

You whimpered and tensed when he savagely rubbed your swollen clit, forcing your legs to tighten around him. He laughed, the sound ominous in your ringing ears. You could only hold on as he delivered the sweetest torture you’d ever felt. You spread your thighs wider, trying to get him closer than humanly possible. You opened your neck up to him, letting him have access to your bare flesh. You wanted him all over you and leaving a scorching trail of hunger in his wake.

It was manic. It was frenzied. It was passionate. And it all combined into a seductive elixir that made fireworks burst from within.

“Shit...I’m cumming.” You warned, feeling him double his efforts. Every muscle went taut with blinding pleasure as that coil finally snapped. You felt weightless, and yet the firm body still driving into your depths made you feel sublimely solid. And whole. More whole than you’d felt in the entirety of your marriage.

It was on the tail-end of your climax that Rio found his. His hips stuttered as he grunted and groaned, releasing himself into you and painting your walls. His fingers dug into the flesh of your inner thighs while his face burrowed into your chest and neck. It was as uninhibited as you’d seen him. And you were addicted to the sight. 

You both heaved with shallow breaths, the exertion of each of your climaxes literally taking the air from your lungs. The room smelled of sex and instant regret as you straightened in Rio’s arms. He separated from your body, eyeing you as he redressed. You shifted your dress back together to cover your bra, the mess between your thighs preventing you from closing them completely. 

Before you could say anything, Rio reached up and cradled your cheek. He played with your bottom lip, his thumb once again finding the appendage. His eyes took in every part of you, as if he hadn’t fucked you senseless seconds before. He licked his lips in that dangerous way that let you know his thoughts were on more than just money.

“Business is good?” He asked, warm palm still pressed to your cheek.

“Yeah, it is.”

“Cool, cool.” He nonchalantly replied, hand leaving your face as he stepped back from your debauched body. “I’ll see you soon, yeah?”

“Yeah.” You said with a nod, pushing your dress further down over your thighs, a lame effort to protect any modesty you might’ve still possessed. He smirked at the action.

“Might wanna clean up the mess.” He said with a cheeky upturn of his lips, hands gesturing to the remaining fragments of ceramic that still littered the floor but eyes locked solely to the spot between your legs. The place he knew he’d left a part of himself.

You bit your lip and nervously played with the hem of your dress, feeling his eyes bore into you. Despite still being fully dressed, you felt naked to him. Bare. Exposed. Vulnerable. You hated it.

He retreated, facing you as he walked backwards towards the front door. You watched him from over your shoulder, still unsure of what to make of the whole situation. 

“And lock your door from now on. All kinds of madmen running around these streets.” He quipped, eyes lighting up at his own joke.

He was gone as fast as he’d arrived, causing havoc and then leaving without a second thought. The door closed with a crisp click at his exit, the house now feeling bare without his foreboding presence.

You didn’t move from your spot. You remained on the counter, Rio still leaking from your walls and your dress still disheveled despite your best efforts. Your mind raced with thoughts, each one riddled with panic. His unexpected visit left you with more questions than answers, all of which were tinged with fear. What did this development mean for you? Did it actually mean anything? Or was he simply taking what was so obviously laid out in front of him?

Did it matter?

No. It didn’t.

Because although he may have indulged your craving, your appetite was far from being fulfilled.

[purityoflust]

The Smile [Jeff The Killer X Victim!Reader] [PART 2]

Jeff the killer X Victim!

WARNING: Yandere. That's it. Yandere.

I finally decided how I would write part 2 to The Smile, which is my first and most popular post on my account so far. Anyone new who has come to read this, check out my other posts as well if you'd like. I'll post more like this. I also have a Quotev account with more fanfictions.

9/12/20, 3/4 days after the top part: God, AFTER SO LONG, I FINALLY DID IT! Took me days! I'm so sorry if this is a bit lazy, it is a tiny bit rushed by the end but how would you guys feel about a detailed part 3? I'll probably go as far as a part 3 or part 4 for the final part.

The vibrations in your brain felt warm and numbing - almost like when you have a horrible migraine and you can finally feel it subsiding with your eyes closed and your fingers gently holding down onto your eyelids as if you're holding your eyes into place to prevent them from bursting out of your skull. Upon waking up you can feel cold air settling into your skin. You haven't been awake 3 minutes and you already know what you're resting on; an extremely uncomfortable metal table. You've only seen them in movies but this was real.

The sound of a singsong voice just slightly echoing through what seemed like a moderately empty room. You groaned softly as you turned your head to your right, very slowly opening your eyes. Your vision blurred in and out, which, you wanted to rub to clear it out but as you went to lift your wrists, you felt pressure around them.

Something was holding your arms down. This catches your attention, blinking multiple times while turning your head back up straight and attempting to sit up. You were hardly successful with that, struggling while grunting under your breath to pull your hands from under what seemed to be a thick rope. As you pulled harder, you sucked in your stomach out of habit before immediately coming to a halt and choking up in pain.

This whole time you were ignoring the voice that was singing eerily nearby, "You and me, always forever~"

The voice was of a male. Scratchy, shaky. Familiar.

Familiar.

You could feel a string of your heart pop out of place as your breath stopped. That's when you knew something was wrong, but it just doesn't add up. You gulp while your eyeballs vigorously glance around to see where the source was coming from, only to see a figure in a corner. It was doubled over and it was sitting down on a simple wooden chair. Doubling over a...table? An average male figure, nothing unique. Although, the clothing style was unusual. At least what was on the clothes. He wore a fluffy white hoodie and what seemed to be black pants and black-and-white converse. The problem wasn't the outfit, no. His hoodie was spotted and had patterns upon patterns of darkened and more fresh-looking blood splatter. He had long black hair down to his shoulders. And luckily, his back was facing you.

You were dumbfounded. How did you get here, why are you restrained, and why is there a blood covered man near you? Is that even blood? Maybe it's paint or a design? Some people do wear clothes that have different kinds of blood splatter designs on them. Hm. Or he's an actual murderer about to gut you like a fish.

You wanted to speak. You wanted to speak so badly but you just couldn't. As you parted your lips, your throat went dry while your gaze stayed locked onto the bloody male that sat before you. The singing made you shiver as you tried so hard to remember where you could have heard or seen him. Why can't you remember?

The male then turned around to look at you. His singing had come to a gentle halt. Your mouth closed as he did so, your throat going completely dry and your whole body feeling like an ice cube. You were greeted with cold blue eyes. They looked hungry and bloodthirsty, yet they held a warm affection as they looked into your traumatized eyes. It was almost comforting until you saw the rest of his face. His skin was snow white and his lips looked dry. That's when more attention is drawn to his lower jaw. He's smiling. Too big for a normal person.

That's when you realize. He has a large smile carved into his cheeks going from ear to ear while his own lips were curled within a smile as well. And that's when it hits you.

And it hits you hard.

The memories of hours prior start brutally crashing into you, flooding back into your numb brain. All of the realization replaced itself with agonizing anxiety, your heart starting to race at speeds that felt impossible. You could pass out, but something inside you kept you awake. Something about him and about this whole situation was making you dizzy. The male slowly stands and turns his body all the way to face you. He seemed deranged, yet, he had a very relaxed stance and body language.

Uncomfortable silence loomed in the air.

He kept staring at you before slowly taking steps forward. You watch him carefully as your head feels like it's spinning, which you could notice your vision blurring a little bit here and there. The silence is suddenly disturbed with the male speaking up again, choking up in giggles. "Oh my sweet Y/N, you're awake~" He cooed, now standing over you. He leaned himself down and reached his hand to your cheek, gently brushing your skin with his surprisingly soft thumb. He leaned his face closer to yours. The smell of booze, blood, & smoke overwhelmed your nostrils. Yet it didn't seem to bother you that much.

His touch almost kind of made you feel...at ease. Your heart slowed itself and your breathing went back to pace. You felt fine, somewhat, but something in your stomach was still sore. The more you stare at him, the more memories come flooding back. The more memories flooding back, the easier you fit the puzzles together.

"M-my...stomach..--" You stutter out painfully.

In response to this, the male turned his head over to your abdomen and gently rested his other hand onto your bandaged stomach, applying very gentle pressure on it as to not hurt you. It was still slightly painful, causing you to groan under your breath.

"Oh, this...I'm sorry, my sweet butterfly. I had to make sure you wouldn't get away, and you didn't! Don't worry, Jack patched you up, so you'll be just fine!"

You remember now. You remember it all. The chase, your friend, the salty kiss before what you thought was your demise.

You naturally wondered as well; who's Jack?

"Wh-.." You weakly force air out of your throat again to speak, "why am I..tied-?"

"Oh, so you wouldn't be able to get away. I knew you would run away, or struggles, so I had to make sure you wouldn't do that!"

He was right. You would run away and struggle to get out of whatever the hell kind of place you're in. Well, knowing what he looks like. He DID stab you, after all. Who knows what this sicko wants.

He lifts his hand from your stomach and turns back to you, gently placing both of his hands at each side of your face. "You're so beautiful, Y/N. So sweet and so innocent. I couldn't keep letting the others eat you up like candy. You're mine and only mine. I need to protect you."

"Wh-who- are you?" You weren't really all too scared for some strange reason now. You were pretty calm. Probably from all of the energy this is draining.

"His name is Jeff." A deep and gruff voice cuts in.

The both of you turn your heads to the door of the room where a tall figure in all black stood. He was about 6"4 wearing heavy boots, black jeans, and a black hoodie. His hair was a dark brown though while he wore a mask. The mask was a dark blue with black goo oozing from the eyesockets. He was pretty intimidating even just by standing idly like a character waiting to be loaded in.

"And I'm Jack." He continued, "I'm the one who took care of your wound."

Jack stepped closer, soon standing at the other side of the table. He stood at the left as Jeff stood at the right.

"He wouldn't stop insisting I help."

You just blink, unknowing of what to respond with. He pursed his lips under his dark mask, in his own thought for a moment while staring down at you. You seemed calm enough, and your still pretty fresh injury was gonna hold you back anyway.

"[P]-[Pronoun]'s gonna-!" He attempts to blurt out, only to be stopped by you.

"I won't."

You were untied at your wrists and ankles, allowing yourself to pull your legs up and rest your feet at the top of the table, propping your knees up. It made your stomach feel weird, but it felt kind of nose and felt like it was easing the pain. You wrapped your arms around your knees, looking around the room more. "What is this place?" You ask.

"It's a medical room."

"Huh.." You shrug it off. Your anxiety levels had died down and the more you actually think about it, this isn't the worst thing that's happened. Your life has been pretty fucked up and you have damaged relationships everywhere. Honestly, being around new people and being far away from others sounds not too bad right now. Not like anyone would care anyway.

The next few hours, you're introduced to everyone else at the Mansion. They've been so...unique and honestly, you're surprised some people and beings like them even exist. They were all equally surprised with how little fear you showed.

You actually got along with most of them.

The others have taken a liking to you and hope you hang around longer. Alone in the living room, you, Jeff, Jack, and others sit at the couches and chairs in the living room, chatting away and getting to know them as they get to know you.

You feel Jeff wrap his arms around you and place a gentle kiss on your forehead, making your heart skip a beat.

You found out Jeff has been stalking you for months at a time. Watching your every move, eliminating anyone in the way. Huh, no wonder so many people in your life kept disappearing. You...couldn't bring yourself to be upset or scared, let alone even sad. You felt kind of at ease.

And far from uncomfortable. Someone loved you. Maybe more than they should, but they love you.

You didn't even feel upset at the fact Jeff had murdered that friend earlier. I mean, you just met the guy, so he wasn't even a 'friend'? So you paid no mind to it.

If anything, you really liked the thrill of someone being obsessed with you. A serial killer being so infatuated with you. He could be so protective of you and get rid of anyone you asked him to! There's is an advantage here. You knew he could snap and probably kill you intentionally or unintentionally, but you didn't mind. You really had no one else, technically speaking. No one that really cared. Not as much as he did.

Maybe he isn't so bad.