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mister-supernova · 2 years

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A Very Good Bad Night

Pairing: Gerri Fields x Reader

Word Count: 8.1k

Summary: It’s Valentine's Day and you’re in need of a date who can get you through the night for your parent’s wedding anniversary dinner. Who better than your best friend?

Warnings/Genre: Explicit language, minor injuries, shitty family dynamics, FLUFF, light angst, friends-to-lovers

a/n: the way I wrote this with the intention of posting it on Valentine’s Day lmaoo better late than never plus I love me some fluffy Gerri shit

There was no sugarcoating the fact that Valentine’s Day was your least favorite day out of the year, but it wasn’t for the same reason that most single people hate the holiday. Ever since you were a kid, your parents made it a tradition to spend their anniversary bringing your family together for a formal dinner.

In theory, this sounds like it should be a nice night out with the people who brought you into this world and it probably would be if your parents weren’t such self-absorbed assholes who treat you like the black sheep of the family.

The obvious way out of this situation would be to avoid the dinner altogether, but being that they’re the reason you’re not homeless living in the heart of New York, you have no choice but to show up or fall into crippling debt.

Instead of spending Valentine’s Day whining about not having a significant other while eating your weight in chocolate covered strawberries, you get a night where your egotistical parents and headass of an older brother hound you about your life while bragging about how perfect theirs are, making you want to gauge your eyes out with a butter knife.

You’re highly aware that tonight will be no different in comparison to the previous years, but you’ll be damned if you have to go through it alone this time.

This brought you to the person you know you can count on for absolutely anything.

Carefully digging through a potted plant that’s littered with thorns no matter how hard you try to avoid them, you only prick the back of your hand three times before finding the spare key that unlocks the front door to the Fields Residence.

“Well, if it isn’t my favorite intruder!” Mr. Fields greets you warmly from the kitchen, already making your day better. After tossing the key back in its place, you walk inside, removing your snow-covered boots and winter coat.

“Still haven’t thought of a less harmful place to store your spare, Danny?”

Formalities with Gerri’s parents were aggressively thrown out the window the very first night you met them. After meeting her over a year ago in your college’s music theory class, the two of you became close friends and the first thing you did during Thanksgiving break was meet her family.

Immediately, you loved their warm and welcoming energy seeing as it was something you weren’t used to with your own parents. The Fields family made it clear from the beginning of your friendship with their daughter that you were always welcome in their home.

This in turn made you feel more homesick for her home rather than yours whenever you were back at school.

“You never know with all the crazies out there, Y/n. I’m just surprised Gerri hasn’t given you your own key at this point.” The man teases, half-joking since you show up here so often, sometimes when Gerri isn’t even home.

“It would definitely help with the pain, no offense to Barry,” that’s what the cactus is named, “Though, the scars do make me look kinda badass, especially when I nick my knuckles.” You ponder, flexing your hand outwards to show Danny the healed up cuts and he puffs out his lip, nodding his head in agreement.

“Very badass.” The two of you laugh as he gives you a brief but tight side hug, “Gerri’s up in her room, by the way, kiddo.”

You thank him, casually thieving a chocolate covered strawberry on the counter and nearly inhaling it before also wishing him a quick Happy Valentine’s Day.

Trotting upstairs, you follow the sound of Gerri’s speakers loudly playing Love Story by Taylor Swift. Her door is already halfway open, but you slow to a stop before taking a peek around the corner.

With the music blasting at max volume, Gerri is unable to hear your footsteps creaking down the hallway, lost in her own world as she dances around her room and sings the lyrics at the top of her lungs.

You watch Gerri jump around, her wavy brown hair slowly falling out of her already loose lazy bun, dancing with such fluidity while holding a stuffed bear you won at Coney Island yet she insisted on keeping.

A smile can’t help but form on your face at the adorable sight and you’re too entertained by the show to announce your presence. Even when looking like a total doofus, you still thought of Gerri as the most beautiful being you’d ever set your eyes on.

That’s not something you could bring yourself to tell her out loud, though.

Before the bridge of the song, the brunette twirls and finally sets her eyes on you, but she doesn’t shy away from the fact that you caught her in a private moment.

That’s not your Gerri.

“I got tired of waiting,” she smiles mischievously, tosses the bear back on the bed, and beckons you over with her index finger, “wondering if you were ever coming around, my faith in you was fading, when I met you on the outskirts of town,” she continues to sing and move her shoulders to the beat of the song.

You shake your head amused, remaining in your spot against her door frame.

“I said, Romeo save me, I’ve been feeling so alone, I keep waiting for you but you never come.” Not taking no for an answer, Gerri skips forward until she’s pulling you into the room by your shoulders.

Now she’s singing in your face with enormous passion, shaking your body back and forth as she grows impatient with your silence, but it’s very difficult for you to sing through your smile.

“Is this in my head? I don’t know what to think,” As Gerri slides her hands up to the sides of your face to shake your brain around instead, you hold onto her wrists to keep her from giving you whiplash or accidentally bonking your heads together. “He knelt to the ground and pulled out a ring and said…”

Unable to deny her any longer, you finally give in, belting out the words while bobbing your head up and down. Gerri’s smile widens and she intertwines your fingers together as she pulls you closer to the middle of her room.

“I love you and that’s all I really know!”

Next thing you know, you’re getting yourself lost in Gerri’s world, too, shuffling your feet and spinning around like you’re the only two people to exist. The comfort of her carefree energy never fails to envelop you into a safe place that makes you feel more at home.

When the music ends, the two of you gracefully fall side-by-side into Gerri’s bed, both out of exhaustion from jumping so much and to slow the intense dizziness. One of her hands has yet to let go of yours, making your head spin even more.

“That was fun.” The brunette pants, letting out a breathless laugh as she looks over at your smiling face.

“Yeah, it was.”

When you return her gaze, you notice that her hair had fallen completely out of its bun, the brown strands beautifully lying around her head upon the mattress.

Every word known to man could never accurately describe her beauty and what it does to your heartstrings.

With her fingers still laced with yours, Gerri lifts it up to observe the damage you’ve taken today, “You prick yourself again?” She asks, softly grazing her thumb over the new marks on your skin.

You hum a yes, incapable of tearing your eyes away from the concern that shows on her face. The way she worries for you over some harmless scratches that were no bigger than the size of a tic-tac made the butterflies in your chest flutter.

“Sorry, we really need to get you your own key.”

Huffing out a laugh, you softly pull your hand away so you can sit up, “Your dad was telling me the same thing.”

Routinely, Gerri stands from her bed to grab the mini first aid kit from her dresser. When she returns, she sits in a criss-cross position, pulling out some mini alcohol wipes and band-aids from the plastic box. “I feel bad having to patch you up every time you come over.”

You turn your body so that you’re facing each other, “Well, first off you don’t have to patch me up. It’s a tiny scratch from a thorn, not a bite from a rabid subway rat,” you inform the girl, making her eyes roll slightly as you instinctively place your injured hand on her lap, patiently waiting for her to clean the fresh cuts, “Second, it isn’t that big a deal. I mean, if you guys placed your spare right next to a wasp nest instead, then we’d have some bigger problems.”

Gerri giggles softly, rubbing the alcohol pad on the open wounds and stinging them for just a moment before little band-aids are placed. When she finishes, Gerri carefully lifts your hand to her lips, placing three gentle kisses on the patched up skin.

Closing both of her hands around yours, she keeps it in her lap, leaning forward slightly as she smiles cheekily at you.

“There. All better?”

The playful yet gentle stare in those gorgeous green eyes makes your stomach turn in the most exciting way possible, but you push the feeling down as you always do. You chuckle, squeezing her hand as you look at her adoringly, “All better. Thank you, Dr. Fields.”

The softness in your voice makes Gerri’s eyes light up, making her subconsciously bite her lower lip. You watch the action with a racing heart, looking back up to find her pupils had dilated as her gaze flickers between your mouth and eyes.

Surely this is part of your imagination, right?

Before either of you could pluck up the nerve to lean in first, you’re both startled when a hamper full of clean clothes is thrown into the room. Breaking eye contact, you and Gerri see her little brother standing in the doorway.

“Were you two about to kiss right now? Because you jumped away from each other like you were about to kiss.” He wonders with an amused smile, narrowing his eyes between the two of you and making you both blush madly.

“Karl, get out! Now!” The brunette exclaims, dropping your hand to shove the boy out. He laughs loudly as Gerri shuts the door, leaning her back against it to ensure he doesn’t come in again.

She covers her face in embarrassment, unable to look you directly in the eye for the moment.

Quietly laughing to yourself, you let Gerri regain her composure and stand from the bed to empty out the hamper, helping sort out her clothes.

“Damn, Gerr. I didn’t think the idea of kissing me was that repulsive.”

“That’s not– I wasn’t–”

“Just jokes.” You look at her over your shoulder with an assuring smile.

Gerri lets her shoulders fall after exhaling out a relieved sigh.

Slowly, she makes her way back over to her phone, playing another song for the two of you to listen to before she begins picking at the clothes you had already folded and starts putting them away.

This routine became a regular thing after your first couple of visits to Gerri’s house. Once she was comfortable having you in her room so often, she started getting too lazy to put her laundry away and you did not want to be lying on a mountain of clothes that were scattered across her bed.

When this habit of you cleaning her own messes began, Gerri felt bad watching you do it alone, so she decided to lend a hand. To her pleasant surprise, it was actually really relaxing having you around to help. Plus, the chore would be done in half the amount of time compared to if she were to do it by herself.

“So, what are the rest of your Valentine’s Day plans?” You casually question, silently praying that her schedule is open.

“Probably just going to throw on some shitty romcoms and get sick from eating too many chocolate covered strawberries. Why?”

You swallow your nerves, reminding yourself that this is just you, a friend, asking for a favor from Gerri, another friend.

It doesn’t have to be a nerve-racking conversation, but you wonder why your palms are getting so sweaty and what it was that was making you hear the sound of your own heart pounding in through your ears.

“Don’t you have that family dinner for your parent’s anniversary tonight?” She asks, taking the handful of bundled socks you give her.

Oh good, she remembered. “I do. I’m not exactly looking forward to it though, because it’s the worst night of my year, surrounded by literally the worst people on this planet.”

Gerri is aware that you’re not very close with your family and that you don’t like to talk about them much, but you’ve never gone into detail as to why that was.

She noticed the way your entire mood deflated whenever she asked about them in the beginning of your friendship, how the mere thought of them brought up some uncomfortable feelings in you, so she quickly stopped asking.

“Why don’t you just tell them you can’t go?” If this night was so dreadful for you to go through, Gerri wondered what was stopping you from ditching the event completely.

You chirp up, playfully pretending to be shocked, “Oh, wow! You know, I’ve never thought to do that. That’s actually a really good idea, Gerr. Why hadn’t I-”

Gerri lightly smacks your bottom with a shirt she’s putting away, making you both laugh, “Okay! You don’t gotta be a smartass about it. Geez.”

“Trust me, if I could avoid tonight, I would. To my terrible misfortune, I can’t afford to pay my college and housing bills on my own yet, so my parents financially keep my head above water. Not without a price of their own, though. They’re not that generous.”

Gerri watches you carefully from the foot of her bed as you start getting lost in your own rambling, but you continue folding her clothes to distract yourself.

“The deal is that they keep me stable so long as I attend their stupid yearly dinner at their stupid favorite restaurant where I have to sit and listen to their stupid lecture about how unsuccessful I’m destined to be in life. Meanwhile, my dickhead of an older brother gets all the loving praise for being the most mediocre man in the world.”

You stop folding the clothes, pausing your ramble to take a deep breath in an attempt to relieve the stress that’s already brewing in your chest.

“You know, I can’t even remember one time in my life they were happy for me about anything. My valedictorian speech at my high school graduation? With such a small school it shouldn’t have been that hard to get in the first place. We also have a conference that weekend. My NYU acceptance letter? Well that’s useless since you’re wasting college on a silly music degree, Y/n. Why can’t you study business like your brother?”

It was unfair how poorly your own family thought of you, like you weren’t even a part of them, especially when you did nothing in the past to make them treat you this way.

“Literally everything I do is wrong in their eyes. It’s the fucking worst, but then again they’re the fucking worst so what else should I expect?”

You slump back down on the bed and massage your temples, attempting to erase the stress that’s already festering in your brain just thinking about going through tonight.

“I know I didn’t exactly paint the prettiest picture of them to you just now, but I really don’t want to sit through this hellish night alone again and I’d hate it a lot less if I had you there with me,” you tell Gerri, nervously fidgeting with your new band-aids, “It’s a lot to ask and I’m not expecting you to say yes, but I just… I need you there, Gerr.”

With your shaking leg, hand fidgets, and cheek biting, all of your anxious tics were on full display for Gerri to see and the dinner hadn’t even started yet. This night weighs you down so heavily that your friend would be a fool to let you carry it on your own.

Pulling you away from your fixed stare at the floor, Gerri places her soft hands upon your face and tilts your head until you look up at her calming gaze. You immediately loosen your jaw, fluttering your eyes shut when she runs her fingers through your hair, letting the rest of your muscles relax beneath her touch.

“Hey,” she calls to you gently and you open your eyes, leaning into her hands as she links them behind your neck, “I’ll be there.”

You smile up at her softly, pushing your body forward until you bury your head into Gerri’s stomach. She laughs, lightly scratching your scalp and tracing her fingers along the nape of your neck.

Everything is so easy with Gerri, you sometimes find it hard to believe that she’s real.

“Thank you.” You mumble into her shirt before looking back up to meet her eyes. “I can’t promise that it’s going to be the most fun time of your life, but-” The brunette squishes your face together to shut you up.

“Don’t worry about it, okay?”

You nod your head, slurring out an “okay” with your smushed face, making you and Gerri chuckle before she drops her arms back to her sides. You miss her touch instantly.

Standing up, you feel a lot lighter than you did before coming over. Gerri just knows how to make everything better and you’re already more at ease thinking about tonight knowing she’ll be by your side.

“I’m gonna go get ready right now and I’ll come pick you up at seven,” you say, opening her bedroom door and taking a backwards step across the threshold, “Just dress like you’re going to any regular formal event.”

“Well, now I’ve got a lot of clean options to choose from,” she gestures to her rack of clean clothes, “so I’ll see you at seven!”

“Cool,” you nod, feeling a small box of candy in your jacket pocket, “Oh! Almost forgot,” you toss her the heart-shaped candy that she happily catches, “I got those at the gas station for you.”

“How romantic,” Gerri smiles as she pulls one out, reading the little printed words aloud and she shows it to you, “Be Mine?”

Before you can wonder whether her tone in that question was serious or playful, she tosses the light pink sugar heart into the air and you easily catch it in your mouth. “Seven o’clock!” You remind her while making your way down the hall.

“Seven o’clock!” Gerri repeats back to you, now having the feeling that out of all the clothes hanging in her closet, she has absolutely nothing to wear.

- Seven O’Clock -

The clock barely changed and you’ve already checked your watch five times as you anxiously waited for Gerri to walk downstairs.

You couldn’t tell if the nerves were from the possibility of being late to the restaurant or the fact that you were taking Gerri out for dinner on Valentine’s Day—not that it was going to be a great one that you’d much rather take her on.

When it comes to the person you are or the people you surround yourself with, you don’t give a shit about what your parents think, but the last thing you want is for Gerri to see you differently and believe your future is becoming carbon copies of them.

“Sorry, sweetie,” Mrs. Fields—or Kate as she prefers—gives your shoulder a comforting squeeze as she notices how tense you are, “Gerri ran a quick errand after you left, so it took her a little while to start getting ready.”

“It’s no problem. The reservation isn’t for another hour anyways.” You say, nervously messing with a rose petal from the bouquet you brought. You didn’t really consider buying Gerri flowers until your drive back over here, thinking it’s the least you could do for her agreeing to endure this torturous night.

Gerri’s mom sits across from you at the dining room table, smirking as she observes the color of the flowers you choose to bring tonight, “Are these for Gerri?” Looking up from your fiddling, you nod your head, “You do know what yellow roses with red tips mean, right?”

No, you do not. You swallow dryly at this new information, “They have different meanings? I just thought they looked the coolest.”

The older woman laughs, only inflaming the intensity of your nerves, “I’m sure you’re fine, Y/n.”

“C’mon Kate, what do yellow roses with red tips mean?” You plead for an answer before panic begins to set in.

“Just friendship…” she shrugs, leaning back to take a sip of her wine, “amongst other things.”

Your eyes widen, making her laugh even more as you smile nervously, “What other things?”

“Honey, stop torturing the poor kid,” Mr. Fields gives you a supportive pat on the back, amused at your cluelessness and for a moment you’re content, “But seriously, you don’t know what the meaning behind these roses are?”

Burying your face deep into your hands, you groan helplessly at their teasing.

You’ve grown a little used to having Gerri’s parents mess with you about possibly crushing on their daughter, but you’d be lying if you said it doesn’t fluster you. Just when you think one of them is on your side, they team up against you in the end.

“What’s so funny down here?” Gerri’s voice fills the room, silencing her mom and dad’s laughter and drawing your attention to the kitchen’s entryway.

If your heart wasn’t racing already, now it’s only a couple of beats away from pounding out of your chest.

Dressed in a red quarter-sleeve dress with floral lace designs that leave just enough room for imagination, Gerri Fields made you forget how to breathe. The girl was already naturally beautiful, so it only made sense that she could transform herself into an even more attractive goddess.

You might just run late from staring at her in complete awe.

“Y/n/n, you okay?” She nervously grins, taking note of your flustered state.

“Uhh…” Clumsily standing from the chair that skids across the floor, you can’t bring yourself to take your eyes off her, “Yeah, I’m uh…” Danny picks up your bouquet of roses and pushes them into your chest. Without looking away, you hold onto them a little too tightly, “I’m good.”

Gerri giggles softly, walking forward until she’s standing in front of you, “Are these for me?”

With a small grin, you nod, now too mentally incapacitated to move your mouth to speak, especially when she bites her lip while smiling at you like that.

“They’re beautiful.” She says, purposely letting her touch linger on you as she takes the flowers from your hands.

“You’re beautiful.” Even you’re shocked by how naturally the words fell out of your mouth, possibly flustering you more than the blushing brunette in front of you.

She briefly hides her smile behind the bouquet before lowering them down so that she can lean forward to kiss you softly on the cheek. “Thank you.”

“You’re welcome.” You quietly say, nearly losing your voice towards the end of your sentence.

Caught in your own bubble that is Gerri, the two of you miss the knowing smiles her parents are sharing from behind you both.

Clearing your throat, you take a look at your watch and note that you still have plenty of time to make it to the restaurant. “Um, I have the car warming up in the driveway.”

Gerri’s eyes widened in realization, “Right! Sorry! Dad, could you…” she quickly hands him the roses and he moves to put them in a vase.

“Have fun, you two!” Kate yells from the kitchen as you and Gerri help put on each other’s coats by the front door.

You share a strained smile with the girl and snicker, both knowing tonight will most likely end in disaster. At least you’re not going through the fire alone this time and you wouldn’t want to have anyone else on your side.

During the 30 minute drive to the restaurant, you and Gerri sang along to every song that played on the Hits 1 radio, even the ones neither of you knew the lyrics to, and it set you at ease. Of course, Gerri’s presence alone brings you peace.

However, all of your anxiety came rushing back to the surface when you arrived at your destination.

You sat in front of the steering wheel silently for a solid five minutes, mentally preparing yourself for the amount of hell you’re going to be dragged through and how everything might go wrong. Before you can start biting at your fingernails, Gerri takes your hand and traps it between the both of hers.

“What’s going on in your head?” She asks, playing with the rings on your fingers.

“Just remembering that there’s a reason I don’t introduce anybody I care about to my family. They’re terrible people, Gerr,” leaning the side of your head against the seat, you look at the brunette, “I’ve learned how to put up with their bullshit, so I’m used to it by now, but if you’re having second thoughts about coming here with me then I—”

“Y/n.” Gerri halts your rambling, squeezing your hand between hers, “I’m here for you, okay? I don’t care how awful they are, I’m not going anywhere.”

You breathe out a large huff of air, leaning the back of your head into the headrest and closing your eyes, silently praying to any and every God that this won’t turn into the worst night of your life.

“Hey,” opening your eyes, you look back at Gerri, watching as she brings your hand to her lips and presses three soft kisses upon the skin, “All better?”

Three little big words nearly slip through your mouth, but you conceal them with a smile that nearly conveys the very message you’re keeping to yourself, “All better.”

With Gerri giving you the strength you need, you finally exit the car and her hand never leaves yours as you walk inside the restaurant.

When you give the hostess your last name, the two of you are immediately escorted to the same table your parents reserve every year. It’s a circular table that seats six in the back corner of the place, close enough to the restrooms and the A/C hits the area just right according to your mother.

God forbid anyone else takes this table and whoever does will have hell to pay. Five years ago, they made an unnecessary scene when another party was seated here and forced the manager to move them to another spot.

You still cringe at the memory to this day.

Arriving at the table, you see that your parents are already seated, but they're too distracted with their phones to realize that you’re there.

Realizing they’re not going to look up anytime soon no matter how close you get to them, you try to speak up, but your father beats you to the punch, “We’ll start with the bottle of white merlot.”

Goodness, at least this wasn’t the worst way the night could’ve started.

Gerri looks over at you and judging by the annoyance on your face, she comes to the conclusion that your dad doesn’t have a sense of humor and this isn’t him trying to be funny.

“Not the waiter, dad. It’s your child.”

His eyes never leave his phone, neither do your mothers. Instead, your dad sighs like he’d rather have the waiter here, “Hello, Y/n.”

It was pointless to go around to their seats and give them a hug like most loving children would. They weren’t exactly the physically affectionate type of parents—not with you anyways.

You shake your head before pulling out one of the empty chairs for Gerri, giving her a sorry smile as she sits down and you take the seat next to hers.

“You didn’t happen to catch your brother and his fiancee walking in, did you?” Your mother asks as you settle in.

“No, but there’s someone I want you guys to–”

“He said he’d be running late, dear.” Your father talks to your mom while scrolling through his phone.

“Guys, can you–” You try getting their attention, failing again.

“I told him traffic would be heavy right now. Hopefully they’re not too far out.” Your mom shakes her head, more concerned about your brother’s arrival rather than the stranger sitting at the table.

“Hello?” The music in this place isn’t blasting, so you know very well that they can hear you speaking.

“It looks like they’re fifteen minutes away on the tracking app.” Your dad shows her the map on his phone and she looks at it closely.

“Y/n talking here.”

“Oh yes, that’s not too far at all. They should get here right as the crabcakes are brought out. He likes them fresh.”

You clap your hands together loudly, finally capturing their attention, “Oh, good. Your ears are still working. Guys, this is my…” suddenly, you didn’t know how to introduce the girl next to you to them, your mind still calming down from them ignoring you seconds ago, “...Gerri. My-my friend Gerri.”

Blushing lightly at your first slip up, the brunette presses her lips together in a tight smile to the intimidating eyes that lock on her, “Happy anniversary, Mr. and Mrs. L/n. It’s really great to finally meet you both.”

They stare blankly at the girl in front of them without so much as a friendly smile back, then your mother looks at you, “You didn’t tell us you would be bringing a guest, Y/n.”

You clench your fist under the table, digging your fingernails into your palm to redirect the anger you’re beginning to feel, “I, uh I didn’t realize that I had to. No one usually sits in the extra chair and you guys always hound me about not bringing a friend, so…”

“I’m just saying it’s inconsiderate of you not to inform us beforehand that you were bringing someone with you. What if your brother also brought one of his friends with him?”

You shrug, “It’s almost like we’re in a restaurant that has extra chairs for that very unlikely instance.”

Your father points an accusatory finger at you and speaks in his authoritative voice, “Hey, don’t be rude to your mother, Y/n. She’s right, it was very thoughtless of you bringing this on us at the last minute.” He shakes his head at you in disappointment, returning to his cell phone.

You could go on about how rude they’re acting to Gerri after she kindly introduced herself to them, only to not even receive a simple ‘hello’ back. You would’ve taken a cold greeting in response rather than them ignoring her completely.

It was one thing for them to act like assholes to you, but when it came to the girl by your side, you were more than willing to call them out on their shit.

Before you can start a fight, Gerri keeps you from the screaming match by placing her hand over your tightened fist. Relaxing to her touch, she intertwines your fingers together and gently brushes her thumb across your skin.

“It’s okay.” She whispers with a soft smile, taking a deep breath that you instinctively mirror to relax. A small fragment of your stress fades for the moment and you give Gerri a grateful smile, reminding yourself that this dinner won’t last forever.

Your parents begin discussing work with each other, leaving you and Gerri completely out of the conversation, but you could care less.

You imagined the two of you sitting in the comfort of her bedroom, watching cheesy rom coms like Gerri had initially planned to do tonight.

Maybe you would find the moment to confess about the crush you’ve had on her since the day you met. You’d tell her how she’s the first person in your life who has ever felt like home.

You would say that you were in love, and in a perfect world, she would tell you that she feels the same.

You couldn’t say those three words out loud, not right now, so you secretly traced those letters on the palm of her hand instead.

Gerri’s lips twitch up into a faint grin when you initiate a few games of thumb war underneath the table, biting back laughter as you get a little more competitive each round. This is the first time you’re glad that your family is way too caught up in their own conversation to pay either of you any attention.

“The favorite has arrived!” Your older brother announces in a sing-song voice as he confidently saunters over to the table, his fiancée in tow a couple of feet behind him. Meanwhile, you and Gerri have broken out of your bubble.

The peace was nice while it lasted.

The bored expressions on your mom and dad’s faces change almost immediately, now beaming with happiness as their precious baby boy approaches. They stand up, engulfing their son with tight hugs and kisses on cheeks.

The stark difference as to how you were greeted shocks Gerri, but looking at your reaction or lack thereof, she can tell this was normal for you.

After your brother’s finished saying hello to your parents, he turns to you with a half-assed wave as he and his new wife take a seat, then his eyes land on Gerri.

“Who’s the new broad with you, Y/n? You had me convinced you didn’t have any friends.” He cackles idiotically.

How your brother has yet to get socked in the mouth for the things that come out of it is a mystery to you.

You wanted to confess your reasoning for never wanting to introduce your good hearted friends to your cold hearted family, but you save the argument.

“Yeah, good to see you too, Richard. This is Gerri.”

With a friendly smile, the brunette waves at him, “Hi, nice to meet you.”

He laughs like he’s just heard the funniest joke in the world, making Gerri shift in her seat uncomfortably, “Jerry? Like a guy? What, did your parents hope for a boy or were they on drugs?”

Oh. Fuck. No. You sit up a little straighter, slightly tightening your hold on Gerri’s hand, “It’s unisex, you ignorant piece of—”

“Y/n. Let’s not do this already.” Your mother quietly warns you from across the table, pinching the bridge of her nose.

“Do what? He’s being disrespectful to my friend.”

“It was a joke. No need to be so sensitive about it.” Richard rolls his eyes with a scoff, snickering arrogantly with the most idiotic grin.

“Oh, I must be the one losing my hearing at this table now because not a single person here thought that was funny.”

“Christ, Y/n, will you relax? I’ve been here for two seconds and you already have a stick up your ass for no damn reason,” he looks at Gerri, “You’re being paid to be here, aren’t you, sweetheart?”

You could tackle your brother where he sits. Your jaw clenches and you have to bite your tongue to keep you from flying out of your seat, “Talk to my friend like that again and I’ll put an actual stick up your ass, Dick.”

If there’s one thing that gets under your brother’s skin, it’s when you use his all-too-accurate nickname that he lives up to.

He scowls at you next, just as ready to jump you across this table.

“That is enough, Y/n!” Your dad silences you with his raised voice that means you’re already skating on paper thin ice, “We’re not putting up with this tonight, you hear me?”

Richard smirks in victory, knowing your parents will always take his side no matter how out of line he acts. With an annoyed huff, you lean back into your seat and refocus on Gerri’s hand that’s still holding yours.

You shouldn’t have brought her here and had you known your family would be this disgustingly rude to her, you wouldn’t have invited her in the first place. Gerri was too good of a person to have to sit through this.

“It’s Richard, right?” Gerri speaks up, earning your brother’s attention and he nods, “Well, Richard, the answer to your previous question is no, I’m not being paid to be here. Y/n talked about how important this night is to your family and because of how important they are to me, I came. I also don’t appreciate the inappropriate jokes you made to me like we’ve known each other for years even though we just met.”

“I assure you, he meant no ill intent with his comments towards you. That’s just how he is.” Your mother comes in for the rescue, making infinite excuses for the thirty year old man who has the brain of a psychotic, tantrum-throwing toddler.

“Seriously, mom? He’s a grown man. There’s no need to jump to his aid like he’s a kid who’s been pushed on the playground during recess.”

Richard rolls his eyes, “Jesus, why do you have to ruin the night for everyone? It’s mom and dad’s anniversary for Christ's sake.”

“You’re saying inappropriate things to my guest. If this were the other way around, all of you would be on my ass.”

“Yeah because every time you come out with us now, you act like a psychotic little brat. I honestly miss when you were quieter because your bullshit is fucking exhausting to put up with.”

You laugh heartily in disbelief, “Oh, you find me exhausting? Now that’s a great joke, Dick. Seriously.”

His face burns red and you can almost see smoke blowing out of his elephant ears, “Fucking Christ,” he groans, pausing for a beat as he debates on whether or not he should say more. With just enough wine in his system, he decides to say, “You know, this is exactly why I didn’t want you at our wedding.”

Your amused smile begins to fade and you give him an inquisitive look, “What the hell are you talking about?”

“Richie.” Your mother sighs as she pinches the bridge of her nose, but she doesn’t look guilty.

“What, you thought your invite got lost in the mail or something?” He teases with a sickening grin when he sees that he’s properly shut you up, “Thought it was just a simple mistake?”

“Rich.” Your father warns and that’s when you see the golden wedding band on Richard’s ring finger.

“Newsflash, you weren’t sent one in the first place and the way you’re acting tonight is a spectacular example as to why that was. I didn’t need you fucking things up on the happiest day of my life, so mom, dad and I came to an agreement. The wedding would be a close friends and family only event. We all think you’ve proven yourself to be neither of those things.”

You look to your parents, the smallest part of you hoping they’d come to your aid just for once in their goddamn lives. Instead, they remain silent in their seats, awkwardly sipping on their wine and avoid eye contact with you completely.

Fucking typical.

You could break down right at this table because of how terrible this night is going. Not that you expected anything less, but it was embarrassing to have this happening in front of the only person you care about in the room, witnessing you get tormented by the people who were supposed to love you unconditionally.

The sound of Gerri’s laughter catches you off guard and your attention turns to her.

“I’m sorry, are you people out of your mind? Do you-do any of you know anything about this person right here? Like, have you actually tried getting to know them?”

Your family is silent, some huffing out annoyed sighs, but you’re only staring at Gerri as she continues.

“Did you know they can finish a six page essay in one hour and end up getting an A? Or that they’re a master at balloon darts and can hit two at once? Or that they know every lyric to Taylor Swift’s entire discography? Or the fact they hate dancing but will do it anyway just to make you smile? Or that they will help you do just about any house chore out of the kindness of their heart without asking for anything in return?”

Your gaze softens as your heart fills with nothing but love for the woman sitting by your side. All you could look at was her and fall even deeper into all that she was–your parents and brother no longer taking an inch of space in your mind.

“Within the twenty-something years you had to really know your own child and sibling, I only needed one to see that they’re pretty fucking incredible and it absolutely blows my mind that such an amazing person can come from assholes like you.”

Eyes widening slightly at the sudden profanity, you look over at the mortified expressions on your family’s faces at Gerri’s closing statement. “How dare you speak to us that way, young lady.”

“No, how dare you for showing so much love and attention to Satan’s spawn while neglecting the literal best thing in your life.”

“I think it’s time for you to leave. Both of you.” Your father says sternly, looking around the establishment for a manager to wave over.

Gerri sighs in relief, pushing out her chair first and you slowly follow suit as she pulls you with her, “That we can agree on.”

Moving around the table, you don’t miss when Richard mutters, “Bitch.”

Knowing you’ve already caused a scene, you thought it wouldn’t hurt to spill his glass of red wine all over his white button up and khakis. “Dick.” You mutter back, not wasting another second being in their presence and quickly making your way out of the restaurant.

The drive back to Gerri’s house is radio silent, the two of you processing tonight’s catastrophe. When you pull up to the house, Gerri breathes heavily as you walk through the front door, the grip on your hand tighter than the one you had on hers.

While she was coming up with different ways to murder your family in her head, your mind was still reeling in the fact she had the courage to stick up for you in front of the people she just met and that you couldn’t love her more for it.

The brunette sighs in exhaustion, turning to face you when you find your way into her bedroom, her mind still running a million miles a minute from what just happened, “I’m sorry for flipping out in there, I just couldn’t fucking stand them talking to you like mmph–”

You abruptly cut Gerri’s sentence short, using your free hand to cup her face and press your lips against hers. She gasps in surprise, taking a few seconds to process the new sensation but then quickly matches the kiss before you can think about pulling away.

Her lips move against yours softly and sweetly as she feels her knees begin to weaken slightly, needing to slide her hands onto your shoulders to keep herself from falling.

Though you’re both completely lost in each other’s touch, Gerri suddenly recalls the situation you just walked out on and gasps, being the first to break the kiss.

“Oh my God, I totally fucked things up for you back there didn’t I?” She pants, her breath blowing across your face as hers remains close.

You could care less about the effects of tonight’s dinner from your parents. The one thing you knew for certain was you wanted to hold Gerri and not let her go, “I’ll figure it out.”

Your lips find Gerri’s again, feeling like it was exactly where you were supposed to be. The brunette sighs with contentment, her arms now wrapping around your neck to pull you closer as your hands slide down her waist.

“I really like you.” You say between kisses, making the girl laugh through her nose.

“I really like you, too.” She whispers.

Your big idiotic smiles makes it harder to keep kissing each other, but you do so anyways. With one last long lingering soft press against her lips, you slowly pull away, leaning back just enough to get a better look at the brunette’s face.

Her sea green eyes stare into yours longingly and you swear that looking into them feels like home. One that you’ve been searching for forever and one you’ve found that doesn’t need four walls and a roof, just those gorgeous orbs that make you feel the most peaceful you’ve ever felt.

“Y/n, I-”

“Gerr-”

You speak over each other, immediately laughing afterwards as your heads lean forward until they’re leaning together once more.

“You go first.” You offer.

“What if we both go?” Gerri suggests, brushing her nose against yours and making your head spin faster than it already was.

“What if we say two different things?”

She softly bites her lip, containing a small smile, “Call it a hunch.”

You chuckle, feeling your heart begin to beat harder and race faster at the thought of her thinking those same three words as you.

Leaning your head away, you meet her eyes and nod.

“Okay. On three.” You say, squeezing her waist in anticipation. “One.”

“Two.”

The both of you take a deep breath, “Three.”

“I love you.” You say in unison, making your breath hitch at the sound of her confession. For a moment you think you’re imagining things until Gerri smiles widely.

“God, I love you so much.” She repeats, pulling you forward by your shirt to bring your lips back to hers, kissing you slow and languidly.

Matching her tenderness, your hands slide around and up Gerri’s back, pressing her body impossibly closer to yours like she would fly away if you let her go.

She sighs against your mouth, guiding herself backwards until the backs of her knees meet the edge of the bed and she pulls you down on the mattress with her. One of your hands is quick to move onto the cushion to keep yourself from crushing the girl beneath you, but your lips never leave each other’s.

Beginning to lose oxygen, you reluctantly pull away but continue your trail of kisses over to her cheek, along her jawline, and down to her neck. Gerri’s eyes remain closed, fingers now tangling through your hair and your lips set her skin on fire.

She gasps softly when you find the spot that drives her crazy and she holds you there, craning her neck back to allow you more access and moaning as your tongue runs over her pulse point.

Before she can further lose herself in your touch and grow even more tempted to rip off your clothes in record time, something else pops into the brunette’s mind.

“Shit, I almost forgot!” She gasps, making you abruptly stop what you’re doing and pull away to look down at her with a worried expression.

“What? What is it?” You pant with a face of concern that makes Gerri smile adoringly.

“I got you something.” She says, pecking your lips once more before urgently pushing you to the side and making you roll over on your back.

Relieved that it wasn’t a serious matter, you chuckle as you watch her push off the bed and quickly grab a small box from the dresser.

You push yourself to sit up on the mattress when she takes a seat next to you, nervously biting her lip as she places the item in your hands.

“Little early for a proposal, isn’t it?” You tease, getting Gerri to nudge you slightly.

“Shut up and open it.” She wraps an arm around your back, tracing gentle patterns with her fingers while resting her chin on top of your shoulder and placing a kiss on your cheek.

You smile, excitedly examining the little cardboard box for a second before removing the cover and revealing a single golden key with a chain necklace and a small engraving of Gerri’s initials at the top. Recognizing each curve and edge of the metal, you immediately know what it’s meant to unlock.

“Now you’re able to come and go as you please, free of being pricked by digging through Barry to get the spare.” She tells you with a soft smile, taking the long chain out of the box and delicately placing it over your head until it rests on your neck.

Looking down at the gift, you take it between your fingers and graze your thumb along Gerri’s initials. A few tears build in your eyes, feeling more love from the beautiful soul next to you within a single night than you have for your entire life.

“You’ll always have a home here, Y/n.” She utters, one hand traveling up to scratch along the nape of your neck while she presses another kiss to the single tear falling down your cheek.

Chuckling softly, your head turns to look at the brunette with a loving stare that she returns. “Having you around alone, anywhere is home for me, Gerri.”

Eyes darkening slightly, it doesn’t take long for Gerri to lean forward and kiss you again, this time without any intention of stopping for the rest of the night.

#gerri fields #gerri fields x reader #gerri fields imagine #gerri fields x you #gerri fields fluff #elizabeth olsen #elizabeth olsen x reader #elizabeth olsen x you #elizabeth olsen imagine #elizabeth olsen fluff #very good girls #very good girls imagine

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doubleleoenergy · 3 years

Text

vi. I Feel it Coming, The Princess and the Pogue Series

You’ve been scared of love and what it did to you. You don't have to run, I know what you've been through.

Series Masterlist

Pairing: JJ Maybank x fem!reader

Warnings: 18+ ONLY, mentions of a hurricane, passionate sex, mentions of birth control, first time, passionate sex, fingering, mentions of weed, swearing

Summary: Y/N shows up to JJ’s during the hurricane.

Words: 3095 (I’m sorry!!!)

A week had gone by since the kegger and morning-after conversation between JJ and y/n, neither wanting to mention the situation and their almost-kiss on the couch. It wasn’t awkward though, they made normal conversation and got together with the Pogues as if nothing had happened. Though, the reminder of that night continued to linger on both of their minds.

On Thursday afternoon, the Principal Interrupted their last class of the day with a broadcast over the loudspeaker. He announced that Kildare County High School would be closed the following day in preparation of Hurricane Nora, which would be making landfall later that evening. Of course, everyone in the Outer Banks was prepared; it wasn’t their first hurricane.

Y/N, however, was quite nervous. She had never been through a hurricane, had barely been through any major storms while living in Montana. As the bell rang to dismiss Kildare County students for the day, y/n packed up her bag and headed out towards John B’s van.

Ever since she had joined the Pogues, John B had offered her a ride home from school. Y/N had protested at first, but given how close she lived to the school, she didn’t have any reason not to. Most of the time she didn’t even head straight home; they frequently went fishing, to the beach, to John B’s Château, and to The Wreck.

JJ was waiting against the opening of the van, hands in the pockets of his cargo shorts and a smile playing on his lips as y/n approached. “Ready to ride out the storm, Princess?” He teased, ushering her into the backseat of the van before hopping in after her.

Y/N chewed nervously on her bottom lip, picking at her cuticles absentmindedly. “I’ll be fine.”

Kiara leaned back against the seat beside her, outstretching her arm comfortingly around y/n’s shoulders. “Didn’t you say that Bailey was out of town? You’re more than welcome to stay at our place tonight and throughout the storm.”

She forgot she had mentioned to the Pogues that her sister was out of town for the week; she was attending a Nursing Conference in Virginia with a few of her colleagues. Y/N usually hated being home alone, but she had spent most of her evenings with the Pogues, being dropped off late at night and heading straight to sleep. Their home was prepped and ready for the storm, and she honestly wasn’t trying to let her nerves get the best of her.

“You’re welcome to stay at Sarah’s Aunt and Uncle’s place with Sarah and I. Or you can stay at the Château with JJ.” John B added, winking over at JJ who gave him a middle-fingered salute in return.

“Again, I’ll be fine. Thank you all for the offers though.” Y/N watched as John B turned the keys in the ignition, descending the van down the road towards her home. “I’ll probably just have a self-care night.”

“Oh yeah, what does that entail?” Pope asked, turning his head towards her.

“Well, when I have a self-care night, I usually put on a face mask, take a nice relaxing bubble bath, and then follow it up with an at-home concert with all of my favorite music, starring yours truly.” The gang all laughed, and Sarah shifted in the passenger seat, turning to look back at y/n.

“I love that, I usually paint my nails and watch some shitty reality shows.” Sarah commented and Kiara nodded her head in agreement. “I like to journal and then pig out on snacks while watching a mind-blowing documentary.”

“I may need to add a little bit of both of your routines tonight. I’ll be fine, though. I promise.” Y/N watched as John B pulled into her driveway, waiting until JJ opened the van door and hopped out, holding his hand out for y/n to grab onto as she exited.

“Well, if you need me, you’ve got my number. I’ll probably just be getting high in the Château.” JJ shrugged his shoulders at her, watching as she walked up the path towards her front porch.

“I’m sure you’ll have fun with that.” She replied, rolling her eyes at him before waving at the rest of the Pogues still in the van.

“I mean it, princess. I’m just a text away.” JJ smiled at her, giving her a brief salute before jumping back into the van and shutting the door.

Y/N sighed, opening the door to her house and stepping in, locking the door behind her. She tossed her backpack on the couch and kicked off her shoes, heading upstairs to her bathroom and starting the bath.

She’d be fine, it wasn’t even raining yet. There was nothing to worry about. Though as much as she’d hate to admit it, she slightly wished she was headed to the Château, wondering if she and JJ would actually talk about the other day if they were alone.

Four hours later and y/n was eating her words. The first hour at home had gone smooth; she had on a face mask while she lounged in a bubble bath, drinking one of Bailey’s beers from the fridge and watching the latest episode of All American.

The second hour was when the rain started, a drizzle quickly increasing by the third hour. By the fourth hour, the lights had flickered at least twice, and the wind had picked up momentum, the tree branch outside her window scraping against the screen.

She tried to remain calm, but it was much harder than she had anticipated. The saving grace of her anxious thoughts was the chime of a new message on her phone.

JJ: Is the Princess still holding up alright?

Y/N: I was until the wind picked up. And the lights flickered twice.

JJ: The offer still stands. I can ask John B to come to get you before it gets worse.

Y/N: I’ll be fine, JJ.

Another hour passed, y/n’s anxiety heightening with every crack of thunder and every scrape of the branch against her window. She tried to calm herself down with music, to meditate, to do anything, but the last straw was when the lights flickered off and did not return on. The house was eerily silent without power, the sounds of the storm that much louder in her ears.

She glanced at her phone, attempting to call JJ for that ride after all but she had no signal, the power going out must’ve included the cellphone towers.

Y/N took one look outside her window, barely able to see anything with how dark it was and leaped off her bed. “Fuck it.” If she stayed in the house it would be much worse than trying to make it over to The Château. If she hurried, she’d probably make it there before the storm got any worse. She quickly pulled her hair up into a high ponytail, slipping on a pair of black denim shorts and a ribbed yellow tank top. Y/N slipped on her running shoes, a pair she had used often during her track days, running down the stairs with her phone light shining to lead the way.

She went into the kitchen, opening the drawers until she found a thick black flashlight, leaving her phone on the counter. Not like she could use it with the towers down anyhow. Y/N carefully opened the front door, shielded from the rain under the roof of the porch as she locked the door and snuck the key under the potted plant for safekeeping.

Turning around, she switched the flashlight on and peered into the storm, the rain pounding down loudly on the street. “Here goes nothing.” She mumbled to herself before sprinting off the porch and down the pathway to the sidewalk, careful not to slip on the wet pavement. Y/N knew the path to The Château by heart after the sheer number of times John B had picked her up from her place before heading there. It usually took them fifteen minutes in the van, and she pleaded with the sky that it wouldn’t take that long.

She was already soaked down to her underwear by the first mile of her run, her breathing heavy but her stamina still high as she powered through. She only had five miles to go, she was used to long runs like that, but not in that type of weather.

Another rumble of thunder cracked against the sky, causing her to pick up her pace, especially with the first strike of lightning in the distance. What if JJ wasn’t even at The Château? What if he left after his offer and went to stay with John B and Sarah? There was no way she could make it that far on foot.

Her legs were burning as she neared the fourth of six miles, cursing herself for being stupid enough to even attempt this during a hurricane. Maybe it was her newfound fearlessness she had from hanging out with the Pogues that fueled her, or maybe she was bat shit crazy.

By the fifth mile, she had slipped twice on the road, her left knee scraped and her right arm as well. The water washed any dirt off as she picked herself up and kept running, her lungs burning in her chest. Her legs started to give out as she saw the familiar stop sign at the end of John B’s road, her body shivering from the cold, wet clothes that hung to her body.

Y/N slowed her pace to a walk as she neared the screened-in porch, walking inside it, finally shielded from the storm, and banging loudly on the front door of the Château.

JJ was startled from the noise against the door, the lights of y/n’s flashlight shining in the window, causing him to hold his hand up to block the rays. He slowly walked towards the door, grabbing an empty beer bottle off the coffee table, ready to use it as a weapon if he needed it for the intruder.

He crept closer to the door, his eyes blinking into the darkness until the flashlight flashed against y/n’s face, outlining her features under her wet locks.

“What the fuck?” JJ cried out, fumbling with the lock in the dark before opening the door and ushering y/n inside. “What the fuck are you doing? Did you fucking walk here during a hurricane?” He flipped on the emergency battery-powered lantern on the coffee table, illuminating the room as he stared at her soaking wet body.

“I t-tried to c-call.” Her teeth chattered as she talked, JJ pulling the throw blanket off the couch and wrapping it around her body.

“Dammit, y/n, you’re gonna get sick from the cold! And you could’ve been struck by lightning, or your body could’ve given out and…” JJ stopped when she put a wet hand on his cheek, her body shivering beneath the throw blanket.

“I-I’m a t-track s-star…s-six miles is n-nothing.” She joked, attempting a smile through her chattering teeth. JJ motioned for her to follow him, grabbing the lantern off the table and carrying it to his bedroom, setting it down on his dresser.

“Let me get you something to change into,” JJ announced, rummaging through his drawers to find some clean clothes for her to wear. He turned around and set the clothes on the bed, gesturing towards them.

Y/N paused, dropping the now damp blanket to the floor, watching JJ turn around to give her privacy. One by one she pulled a soaked article of clothing off until she stood naked, her skin drying as her body was freed from the wet fabric.

Her shivering stopped, her heart racing as she looked at JJ’s taut muscles through his cutoff shirt in the light of the lantern.

“Are you dressed?” JJ questioned, his back still turned.

“No…” She muttered, her voice a few octaves above a whisper.

“Is it the clothes? I can get you something else to put on.” JJ started for the dresser, y/n’s hand moving out to grab his wrist, stopping him in his tracks.

“JJ look at me.” She demanded, tugging his wrist towards her before he finally turned, his eyes on the floor before they slowly followed the curves of her body, lingering on her bare chest before meeting her gaze.

“Y/N…” He whispered, his blue hues moving from her eyes to her lips and back, taking a step closer to her. She still had her grip on his wrist, her fingers moving to trail up his arm, causing him to shiver in response.

“I ran here in a fucking hurricane so that I wasn’t alone, so that I could be here…with you…” She stepped closer, their faces inches away from each other, JJ’s own face tilted down to close the gap. He can feel her breath hot against his face as he hesitates before bringing a hand up to cup her cheek, leaning down and pressing his lips against hers.

Y/N kisses back, her hand moving up to grip at the hair at the nape of his neck, attempting to pull him closer. Their lips danced along each other’s, JJ’s tongue darting out and instructing her to part her lips. She let his tongue explore her mouth, her body leaning forward to press against his chest.

He broke away from her mouth, trailing damp kisses down her jaw and along her neck, leading their bodies back until they both tumbled back against the bed, a breathy laugh leaving her lips. He broke away from the kisses against her collarbone to look at her naked form in the light of the lantern. His fingers trailed from her cheek down to her chest, rubbing her nipple between his fingers, eliciting a breathy moan from her lips.

“Such a beautiful Princess.” He whispered, causing y/n to roll her eyes.

“Shut the fuck up and take your clothes off.” He couldn’t help the chuckle that escaped his lips, stumbling to his feet and pulling the cutoff shirt from his frame, stepping out of his shorts and his boxer briefs. His cock sprang free against his chest, y/n’s thighs clenching together as she admired his size.

“JJ…” She pleaded, her eyes raking over his toned chest and then back to his blue irises.

He walked back over to the bed, moving so that his body was hovering over her own, their eyes locking once again.

“What do you need?” He questioned, a devilish smile spreading across his face.

“You.” She moaned, bucking her hips up towards him, her hands pulling his face down to hers. “I just want you.” Their lips slotted together again, more passionate than before, JJ’s knees moving to part her thighs and settle himself between them for support.

Once he was stable, he moved to kiss down her body, starting with her collarbone before trailing his lips between her breasts, causing y/n to moan. His cock rubbed against her folds, due to how tall he in comparison to her, humming against her skin with delight. JJ’s tongue flicked against her nipple, his free hand snaking between their bodies, his fingers teasing against her slit before dipping his index and middle finger into her wet heat.

“Shit.” She whined, JJ smirking against her breast as he continued to suckle on it, his fingers pumping in and out of her tight cunt. Y/N’s fingers threaded into his hair, tugging on his blonde locks and arching her back against his mouth.

His fingers continued to work in and out of her core, picking up the pace until y/n tugged his hair hard enough to make him look at her.

“Quit fucking teasing me JJ, I need you, now.” She purred, his gaze moving up to meet hers again. He shifted so her legs were further apart, settling his cock at her entrance, his arm hovering above her head for support.

“Shouldn’t I grab a condom?” He questioned, thinking of where in the house there might be some hiding. He knew John B definitely had some, he’d just need to rummage through his drawers to find them.

“I’ve been on the pill since I was fourteen, it’s fine. Please just…” She grabbed his face with her hands, staring into his eyes. “Please fuck me, JJ.”

He lined the tip of his cock up and pushed into her cunt, both moaning simultaneously. He seated himself fully inside of her, letting her adjust to the length before he pulled almost completely out. His eyes stayed locked on hers, slamming his cock back in and moving at a steady rhythm in and out of her.

She rested her forehead against his, mewling at each thrust, her nails digging into his back as he moved. They couldn’t even hear the storm anymore, the only sounds being their breathing, moans, and the occasional slapping of skin.

JJ started to feel the familiar pooling in his stomach, his hips slapping faster. “Fuck, y/n. I’m not gonna last much longer, 'm sorry.”

Y/N pressed her lips to his feverishly, whispering against them. “Fucking cum, JJ.” JJ thrusted in and out of her cunt a few more times before steadying himself deep inside her as he came. She felt his cum coating her walls, JJ waiting until his cock wasn’t as sensitive before pulling out, moving to lay on his back beside her.

“Did you cum?” He questioned, tilting his head to look over at her.

“No, but it’s okay. I’ve never, well…” She huffed, covering her face. “Shit don’t make fun of me but that was my first time. I mean, I’ve given head before and I’ve had guys go down on me but I’ve never…y’know.”

JJ smiled big, wrapping an arm around her shoulders, pulling her body closer to his. “So, I deflowered the Princess?” He let out a groan as she smacked his bare chest, furrowing his brows. “What the fuck?”

“It’s not funny, JJ. I really fucking like you, okay? And I know that scares you, but I don’t care. You deserve the world, and you make me feel safe and…” Y/N is cut off when JJ presses a kiss to her lips, his thumb rubbing softly on her cheek.

“I like you too. But don’t tell anyone I got mushy and shit with you.” He whispered, pulling her closer until her head rested on his chest, his arms wrapping around her. The sound of the storm outside didn’t scare her anymore, her eyes fluttering closed and her breathing relaxed.

“And don’t you fucking dare run through a damn hurricane again.”

Tagging those who may be interested. Please let me know if you’d like to be tagged/untagged: @midnightf, @serendipityrogers, @fuckandfluff, @eireduchess, @calisamcro, @moniamaybank, @astrydis, @sokovianheadtilt, @blackwiddows, @matbarzalschain, @bigassnocash, @sspidermanss

#doubleleoenergyseries: The Princess and the Pogue #series: the princess and the pogue #the princess and the pogue outfits #jj maybank #jj maybank x reader #jj maybank x fem!reader #outer banks

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sister-dear · 4 years

Note

Okay, so you mentioned that Wild was another favorite... Headcanons please? [Watch me just keep doing this until I see every single boy get headcanons XD]

Yeah so I'm just gonna keep doing these lol. Let's see if I can get through all the boys by the end of the weekend.

Wild Headcanons!

As before, here’s the giant mis-mash of canon/LU canon/fanon/headcanon that I use for writing Wild.

Genderfluid. Defaulted to ‘he’ after waking up because it’s what everyone around him assumed, got slapped in the face in Gerudo Town with how good it felt to be called ‘she.’ Zelda knows to use ‘she’ when Wild is dressed a certain way, but it’s Hyrule who brings up the idea of being gender neutral and Warriors who introduces them both to the term ‘genderfluid’ and to using ‘they’ as a pronoun. Basically, Wild is slowly collecting pronouns like candy and it’s very exciting. They can’t wait to share the new things they’ve discovered on the topic and how they think it applies to them with Zelda; she’ll be just as happy about it as they are. Still mostly defaults to ‘he’ out of a combination of habit and continuing to figure out good signals for when their pronouns change, but that is shifting as time goes on.

Functionally aro/ace, at least for now. He’s focusing on rediscovering who he is and establishing familial and platonic relationships. Will probably hit one hell of an experimental phase before too much longer.

Wild’s journey/story arc is largely one of experimentation and self discovery. Curiosity is the driving force behind most of the decisions he makes. (Along with just having fun. Wild loves to have fun.)

Adventure buddies with Hyrule. They pretty much bonded instantly over their shared love of exploration and nature.

Has lots of similarities with Wind even though they don’t see eye to eye on certain topics. (Kings of Hyrule, anyone?) When Wild is feeling their silliest or just needs to have some fun to let off steam, Wind is the one they turn to.

Slightly intimidated by Warriors and Sky. Warriors seems a model knight, something Wild feels he failed to be and maybe even slightly resents. Sky also talks about being in the Knight Academy, and of course there was the whole thing with the Master Sword. Wild very much does not want Sky to get mad at him again. Nobody likes it when Sky is mad at them.

Obviously has strong familial feelings towards Twilight, and by extension Time

Has sass, generally more positive than Legend but not afraid to throw hands

Occasionally has depressive episodes and the memory-flashbacks

Wild doesn’t actually cook all the groups’ meals. He’s not the only one who is competent around a cook pot, he’s just the most passionate about it. And also the one who keeps most of the group’s food, given the slate’s ability to keep food fresh.

Wild is in fact very frustrated and somewhat humiliated by the shitty quality of his weapons, now that he’s seen enough of the others to know that none of them have the same issues with stuff just breaking as he does. Knowledge of how to care for and maintain weapons was not one of the things that carried over from his previous life, plus he keeps doing things like hitting frigging rocks with his blades. The others are slowly teaching him better.

Adrenaline. Junkie.

Thinks of their past self as a stranger who happened to inhabit their body. Had anxiety-induced muteness pre-calamity, began talking again after they woke up. They did retain sign language. Will occasionally default to it if their throat is paining them.

Has a bit of a rasp due to vocal chord damage that the shrine didn’t quite fix all the way; his voice starts to get tired if he does a lot of talking. The scars sometimes cause him mobility issues. The masseuse in gerudo town gave him oil for them and taught him how to massage the tissue to help, but he tends to forget to do it.

Hair is constantly tangled. He takes a stab at brushing it most days but not nearly thoroughly or often enough to keep it from turning into a horrible rats nest.

Is it gonna be fun? Great it’s a good idea let’s go.

Considers basically everybody in his Hyrule to be his family. Has adopted family in pretty much every race, village, and stable. His Hyrule loves him and he loves them back. Kass and Teba are like dads. Riju is his BFF and fellow pun enthusiast. The villagers of Hateno are especially protective of both him and Zelda once she comes to live with him there. There’s Impa and Dorian in Kakariko. Sidon and Paya are both potential Significant Other material if he ever becomes interested in that stuff. He gets fussed over in all the stables, greeted with enthusiasm in Tarrey Town and with the Gorons… Most of the citizens of his Hyrule don’t have any association between him and what happened 100 years ago, they just know him as the person who made things better this time.

Falls into a sibling relationship with their Zelda post-adventure. Neither of them have any interest in restoring the system that failed both of them so badly, especially after all the time that has elapsed. Zelda is quite happy with the opportunity to just be herself, exploring and experimenting and re-establishing relationships of her own.

One of the more religious of the group. He prays and leaves offerings at every statue, in every temple. Wild’s Hyrule has very active spirits and a large variety of religions, both ancient and current. (Hylia, the little ancestor statues all over the place, the dragons, the Gerudo seven, Malanya…) Wild’s personal experience has been that paying basic respects leads to good things (finding Koroks, increases in health and stamina, someone watching out for his horses…)

Wild takes lots of pictures, not just of people but of places and plants and animals. He’s recording his travels to show Zelda when he gets home. He knows she would kill him if he didn’t.

The others: Four | Sky | Legend | Hyrule | Warriors

#taking requests on whoever y'all want to see next #headcanons #lu wild #linkeduniverse

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starlxghtmoon · 4 years

Text

Spread Your Wings || Chapter One

Pairing: Hawks x Reader || Tangled AU

Warnings: None!

Word Count: 2,000+ words

A/N: I’m super nervous about this, but excited! Sorry if this first part is boring, it’s supposed to act as an introduction and I tried to add more feeling to it than just happiness all around ajbfkjabkjawoifn but whoever reads this shitty fic of mine, I hope you enjoy!

Disclaimer: I do not own BNHA or Tangled, both and all characters except OCs [Mimi the cat] belong to their respective creators. This is purely creative fun.

Chapter Two

Masterlist

An elderly hooded woman approached the shrub with caution, looking around to see if anyone had followed her before pulling back her hood and uncovered the mysterious object. Underneath sat a golden flower, it looked ethereal with the way it softly glowed in the night; many tales have been made about this flower, some say it bloomed from a droplet of the sun that fell to the earth and could cure any illness, heal any wound. But the woman who was selfishly hoarding it, used it to stall her own time with a simple song.

“Flower, gleam and glow.”

The flower began to glow brighter as she sang her song in her old worn voice.

“Let your power shine.

Make the clock reverse.

Bring back what once was mine.

What once was mine.”

As she finished her song, her aged voice grew rich and light, a satisfied smile tugging at her lips as her appearance shifted back to her younger days, gray going black. But the sound of shouts and flickering lights interrupted her serenity and in her rush to hide the flower once more and hide her own identity, she knocked over the shrub disguise, uncovering the flower for the guards approaching her spot to find.

“We found it!” A guard called out, commencing the uprooting of the magical flower, bringing it to the ill queen and healing her sickness. Soon after a princess would be born with snow white hair and e/c eyes.

However one evening, that same woman would sneak into the king and queen’s quarters where the baby peacefully slept, needing the flower’s magic to stall her mortal time once more.

“Flower, gleam and glow.”

She began to sing again in her croaky voice, the baby girl’s hair, white as snow began to glow a soft f/c. The woman leaned in, reaching out for a strand of her pure white hair, the effects of the magic flower already doing it’s work on the woman’s body.

“Let your power shine.

Make the clock…”

The woman cut a strand of her hair as it glowed, but it immediately lost its power, the strand of hair changing from stark white to h/c. And since she’d cut her own song short, the magic didn’t take, reverting her back to her aged self. Gasping out of shock, the woman had no other choice than to take the baby.

As the child let out a cry, the woman scooped up the baby and made her escape, the sound of the baby’s cries awoke the king and queen, sending them both into a panic as the woman stole away the baby, disappearing into the night.

Restlessly, the kingdom searched and searched for the princess, but deep in the forest, hidden away in a tower, the woman would raise the girl as her own. Determined to keep her new flower hidden.

However, as well as the woman could keep the girl hidden, she couldn’t hide the outside from her as each year on her birthday, lanterns would be released into the night sky in hopes that the lost princess would return. And that lost princess was...you.

The shutters of the tower were swung open, as you grinned mischievously and looked around out the window. In the corner of your eye, you caught sight of a fluffy black tail swishing around behind one of the potted plants. You slapped a hand over your mouth and snorted softly before getting an idea and a mischievous glint to your eye. Straightening up and crossing your arms, you nonchalantly shrugged and looked away.

“Well, I guess Mimi isn’t out here.” You spoke, easing the midnight creature outside your window, making her let her guard down before suddenly she was yanked up by her tail, letting out a distressed meow. “Gotcha!” You exclaimed with an amused laugh. Letting the cat down from your trap of hair, you began to add on, “That’s 22 for me. How about 23 out of 45?” The cat grumbled in response, “Okay. Well, what do you wanna do?” The cat perked up at that question, letting out a gleeful meow and turning to the outside of the window, pawing out with a suggestive nod. “Yeah. I don’t think so.” You picked up the cat and swung your legs around to dangle out the window, placing the ball of fur in your lap. “I like it in here, and so do you.” Pointing at the cat, she stared up at you unimpressed. “Don’t look at me like that, you’re literally a cat. You should like being inside with me.” Mimi’s ears drew back in distaste. She did like being inside, but she also adored you and wanted you to have a taste of the outside world too. You've been cooped up in this place for 18 years straight, c’mon! “Oh, come on, Mimi. It’s not so bad in there.” You scritched behind her ear, eliciting a purr from deep within the cat’s chest before you pulled the cat into your chest and slid back inside.

You climbed up onto the roof beams, preparing for the morning and opening up the ceiling shutters before swinging back down with your hair. You then glanced over at the clock on her wall and began your day with your usual routine.

“Seven a.m. the usual morning lineup.”

Fetching the broom, you started with sweeping up the floors.

“Start on the chores and sweep till the floor’s all clean.”

Next, you equipped yourself with a mop and scrubbers to continue on with your chores. If you didn’t, you’d surely die of boredom. Not that you didn't already suffer from basically being a bird trapped in the cage you called home.

“Polish and wax, do laundry and mop and shine up.”

At least you had Mimi there to keep your spirits up as you swept around the tower again, checking the clock again with a slight roll of your eyes.

“Sweep again and by then it’s like, 7:15.”

It only took you a good 15 minutes to do all that? Sighing a little, you continued on with busying yourself. What a drag.

“And so I’ll read a book or maybe two or three.

I’ll add a few new paintings to my gallery.”

You knew you were running out of space on the walls, but you could always find nifty places and open spots to paint. One day you might run out of room and as morbid as it sounded, the thought did cross your mind that you’d even expire here. But you hoped you wouldn’t, you stayed optimistic that you’d be able to leave the nest and fly. Until then, you’d continue busying yourself around the tower, counting the hours and days… maybe even years. Hopefully your activities would help distract you from those spiraling thoughts as well, it was for the better that you were stuck here, right?

“I’ll play guitar and knit and basically,

Just wonder when will my life begin?”

As you pulled a freshly baked pie out of the oven, you spotted the perfect spot to paint on the wall, measuring it up with your hands.

Busting out your paint, you shoved the decorative piece aside and began painting. Filling the spot with soft blue paint as a base and planning out what you'd put there.

“Then after lunch it’s puzzles and darts and baking.

Papier-mache, a bit of ballet and chess.”

At this point, you were just annoying Mimi with your various different hobbies you picked up. Internally cackling at her torment. But none of it was malicious, Mimi loved you and you loved Mimi, she was your only solace here. One would never abandon the other. Your bond was unbreakable.

“Pottery and ventriloquy, candle-making.

Then I’ll stretch,

Maybe sketch,

Take a climb,

Sew a dress.”

Mimi was absolutely over it and exhausted when you put her in a minidress resembling yours. She lowkey loved it, but it just wasn’t right. Cats weren’t supposed to wear dresses, but Mimi sure looked adorable in one!

“And I’ll reread the books if I have time to spare.

I’ll paint the walls some more

I’m sure there’s room somewhere.”

Now you were really getting stuck, looking for spots was slowly becoming more and more impossible. You sighed a little, slowly the same old same old was beginning to eat away at you. Grumbling a little, you decided to instead distract yourself with brushing your lengthy hair.

“And then I’ll brush

And brush and brush

And brush my hair.

Stuck in the same place I’ve always been.”

Finishing up brushing the ends of your hair, you sat there for a moment, breathing out a puff of air. You looked around from your seat upon the beams of the roof. The space was big and anyone would be comfy in a home like this. Right, a home, not a tower. You were a caged bird. And you certainly had the ability to leave, you could do whatever you wanted with your 70 foot long hair... but would you? Probably not, you wouldn’t dare betray your mother. Besides, the world was a dangerous place, your mother said so multiple times. But… you longed for something more. To feel the grass on your feet, feel the wind flow through your hair, swim in the water, explore the world and… see the floating lights that never failed to appear on your birthday every year.

"And I'll keep wondering and wondering

And wondering and wondering

When will my life begin?"

You approached the open window of the tower, longingly looking out at the scenery before you and sighing softly. Tomorrow you'd turn 18. For a moment, you wondered how many more birthdays you'd have to spend locked away, with so many questions and curiosities.

"Tomorrow night the lights will appear

Just like they do on my birthday each year."

You rested your cheek within your palm, leaning on the window sill as your gaze swooped around the trees and hills surrounding the tower. Your heart ached for more than what you had here and in a way, it made you feel guilty. Your mother did everything for you, she sheltered you, she fed you, she gave you a home and unconditional love. Sure, she was harsh and brash sometimes, but she only wanted the best for you, she wanted to keep you safe. She was protecting you and your gift. You wouldn't survive without her. At least, that’s what you believed.

"What is it like out there where they glow

Now that I'm older.

Mother might just let me go."

You put the finishing touches on that painting you'd been working on, you were jealous of your own artwork. The depiction you'd made of yourself watching the floating lights with pure amazement and wonder. You placed your hand on the dry paint, brows furrowing in frustration. Why do you feel so guilty for something you want?

"Wow, I could get used to a view like this." His stop on the roof caught the attention of the two men with him. The dark haired one of the two rolled his eyes in annoyance.

"So could I-! I've seen better." The masked man with them commented, switching from amazement to stuck up. His outburst made the dark haired one immediately hush him, the masked man slapping his hands over his mouth.

"Do you wanna get caught or something?"

"Sorry, Dabi." He spoke lower this time, making Dabi shake his head a little in dismissal before redirecting his attention to the other man with them who continued to stare at the view.

"Hawks. We gonna do this or what?"

"Hold on." He made him pause, Dabi rose a brow, heavily annoyed and completely fed up with his antics. "Yep. I'm used to it. Guys, I want a castle." Hawks placed his hands on his hips, still admiring the view.

"We do this job, you can buy your own damn castle. Yeah?" Dabi stepped forward, grabbing the blonde by his collar and yanking him back.

Dabi and Twice securely held onto the rope, carefully lowering Hawks down into the crown room. If it were up to Dabi, he would've dropped his ass for the guards to take, but they needed that damn crown and he was gonna get it.

One of the guards sneezed and Hawks let out a mocking groan, "Hay fever?" The guard looked over his shoulder, not noticing that he was there.

"Yeah." He looked back in front of him before realization dawned on him, "Huh?" He whipped around, the crown and Hawks gone. His gaze darted up, but they were already gone and so was the lost princess's crown.

"Can't you picture me in a castle of my own? Cause I certainly can." The trio sprinted away from the castle, Dabi ignoring Hawks with a roll of his eyes as Twice switched back and forth between approval and disapproval. "All the things we've seen and it's only eight in the morning! Gentlemen, this is a very big day!"

"Would you shut up already!"

"Yeah, shut up, Hawks! No! Be louder!"

"Ugh…"

#hawks x reader #keigo x reader #keigo takami x reader #hawks x y/n #keigo x y/n #bnha #bnha x reader #tangled au #this sucks omg ajbkjbakjjweb

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jeonqquk · 4 years

Text

laundry | jjk [ep.4]

pairing: jeongguk x reader genre/tags: assistant!jeongguk, regionalmanager!reader, crack, fluff, shitty in general rating: 13+ word count: 2409 words

30 minutes after Jeongguk’s mouth inspection for a crown, you walk out of your office again, happy to see that everyone else is still silent and no drama has taken place. “Gguk can I talk to you for a second?” Said boy looks up from his desk, confusion evident on his face as you call him for the second time that day. Nevertheless, Jeongguk gets up and follows you into your small office, hands behind his back as he walks cautiously into the room he was never afraid to enter without your permission before. You don’t spare him a single glance after having requested him to come in with you and turn left before sitting at one of the chairs near the potted plant opposite your desk. Jeongguk sits diagonally to you on a chair against the glass. You sigh, getting ready to speak as Jeongguk looks at you with a curious gaze. Exhaling loudly, you smile at Jeongguk “Wow! This is tough.” You talk mainly to yourself and bend forwards, hands landing on your head in a gesture of irritation.

“What is?” you look at Jeongguk with wide eyes and throw your head back, hand massaging your forehead as you passionately act. “How do I tell you this?” Jeongguk doesn’t understand and just looks at your suffering state before he leans in closer, nodding encouragingly. Your breathing turns heavier before Jeongguk worriedly places a hand on your shoulder and you finally gather yourself.

“I just got off the phone with Namjoon.” Jeongguk exhales sharply, hand falling from your shoulder as his mouth falls slightly open. His hands come up to rest on his thighs as his tongue darts out to wet his lips in a probably nervous action. His breathing visibly halts and you rub your hand on your face.

“And….he demoted me.” Jeongguk sputters, eyes going wide as his face turns slightly angry- genuine or not, you didn’t care. “No.” he grits out and your eyebrows are raised, an indication that you were equally as pissed. “You know what the craziest part is?” Jeongguk gulps audibly and you continue, “He demoted me to your job and now, you’re apparently the regional manager.”

Jeongguk tries his best to hide his glee, he really does, but it’s hard to fake a frown when he’s figuratively jumping on top of the desk. His eyes go wide and he throws his head back, blowing out as a sign of disturbing shock. He stares straight ahead and doesn’t look at you, in case he bursts out laughing.

“He said that you should expect a call from corporate. So now you’re gonna be acting as regional manager.” you get up to hug him and he hesitantly does the same. “Wait, aren’t you angry about this, though?” You look at him with a bright smile, “No! This is so good for you. I should go back to sales anyways.”

Jeongguk finally lets himself laugh freely, thanking you for the congratulations as you drag him out. “I’m the Assistant Regional Ma-” “Assistant to the Regional Manager.” he corrects and you clench your jaw, nodding forcedly.

The office doesn't look very happy about it, “Hello everyone. I have some good and bad news. The bad news is- I’m going to be replaced by Jeongguk as your leader. And that is also the good news.” you hear the audible groans of people, Soojung getting up in annoyment “Why does he become the manager?”

Jeongguk is unfazed by everyone’s unenthusiasm and continues smiling and waving his hand like he’s some diva. “Because he was the second highest ranking position.” your answer is curt and Soojung storms off into the ladies room. Jeongguk walks back into the office with one final glance at all the disgruntled employees. You follow him.

Sitting on a chair, you watch as Jeongguk sits down at his (your) desk and bounces lightly on the swivelling chair, as if testing it’s cushioning. He nods to himself and you can only watch with angry eyes as he moves the things around. The rubber ball and mug that said ‘World's Best Boss’ going into a tray along with some papers.

When Jeongguk looks as if he’s finished, he sits at his chair and you get up, flashing him a fake smile, “Well, I guess it’s time for me to turn over the keys to the famous Sebring.” Jeongguk, who’s smiling at something on the desktop, doesn’t even bother looking at you “No, thank you.” He seems to have acquired a new sense of superiority, fake promotion that you were giving him stroking his already huge ego.

“It’s a corporate lease, Gguk. You’ve earned it.” you’re getting annoyed by the second and his carefreeness does nothing to calm you down. Still, you attempt at making a natural face when he says “No, thanks” again.

“What?” you’re pretty sure that he’s thinking of himself as your boss now, obviously, but you never thought that he would reject your car like this. “Not my style.” You’re boiling form anger on the inside, trying to control all the rage bottling up inside of you.

“But you said you liked it, you’ve always admired it and-” “That was before. I’m thinking of getting something German,” He leans back in his chair “something with a decent gas mileage.”

Your jaw drops in a mix of shock, anger and humiliation because never had you expected these words to come out of Jeongguk’s mouth so easily. “Plus, that convertible is a ridiculous choice for this climate.” He makes a disgusted face, and you’re practically seething at this point, and you’re able to feel the smoke coming out of your ears as you stare at the side of Jeongguk’s face who seems to be too invested in whatever the screen was showing.

“Take it back” Jeongguk’s goofy smile is replaced by a confused one, “No.” Your jaw clenches, muscles contracting as you glare at Jeongguk, closing your eyes for a split second before opening them again, and you keep your hands on the edge of the desk in a vain attempt to calm yourself down.

“What did you-” “That’s my car!” Jeongguk begins but you cut him off, all the manners your preschool teacher had taught you flying right out your head as your furious self screams at him, all the employees looking at the closed room at the sudden noise.

“Yes,” Jeongguk beings uncertainly, but you lose your composure finally, spilling the truth that you knew about his secret meeting with Namjoon. “I know, Jeongguk. I know, I know.” You walk around the table, and Jeongguk turns his chair to see you coming closer to him. “Know what?”

“Namjoon called me about your little meeting.” you can taste the venom in your words, the unadulterated poison that comes from your mouth even surprises you but you don’t stop. “I know what you did. You fucking backstabber.”

Jeongguk’s aghast by your cruelty, standing up in fear and moving back, as far as he could get from you in this small office. He’s shaking from fright at this point, as your head throbs from the fact that all you could see right now was red.

“I know what you did.” Jeongguk shakes his head, weakly trying to defend himself but his face gives it all away, his guilt-ridden face turning pale and lips quivering. “The Sebring’s cool-” He does all he can to save himself from your wrath. The sight must definitely not be too pleasant to witness as Jeongguk walks backwards until he’s in front of the desk and you’re in front of him, the view clear from the glass through which everyone was staring at you two openly.

“I made the whole thing up.” your voice grows colder, scarier by the minute and Jeongguk notices this, his eyes glossy from fear that you would go hard on him. Jeongguk’s breathing gets heavier by the minute, yours too but it’s out of the rage in you that you probably look like a bull right now.

“How dare you? How dare you, Jeongguk?” Frankly, this was not what you would have expected from such a hardworking and dedicated employee, but everyone’s inner demon came out at some point. Jeongguk kneels down in front of you, hands together as tears form in his eyes. In any other situation, you would've sympathised with him, upset that such a dear friend had to go through any kind of pain.

Right now, though, you scream profanities at him, anger spilling out in the form of swears no one could think of as the rest of the office watches, some with pitiful faces for Jeongguk and others looking shit scared. “Don’t fire me. Please don-” Jeongguk is literally begging you, pants getting dirty from kneeling on the carpet and your vein pops as you shout, “Give me one good reason why I shouldn't fire you right here on the spot.” You half-sit on the chair, eyes red as you stare Jeongguk down, his gaze pathetic and wavering.

The scene must look terrible. But you don’t care, the solution to everything seems violence and the sight of Jeongguk just angers you even more.

“I have excellent sales numbers!” he yells and you roar back, “Not good enough!” Jeongguk looks pathetic, a mess at your feet and you swipe your hair back roughly, face probably cherry red. Everyone else is staring at the scene, glancing sideways at each other in pity.

In the corner, Yunha sits, unable to look at the scene because she knows exactly what’s going on, and regrets ever putting the idea of Jeongguk becoming regional manager in his head. Her eyes well with tears and she rushes out, her exit so discrete that not one person notices her.

Jeongguk covers his face with his trembling hands, sobbing loudly as you try to gain your calm demeanour back. He pulls at his hair, bending down and going into a praying position at your feet. “Please! I’ll do your laundry for a month- for a year.” He tries bargaining as you stand fuming, “I have a laundry machine.”

“Y/n. I’m sorry. Anything.” Jeongguk is bawling his eyes out, face on the carpet as he watches his entire career fall into pieces in front of him. He looks heart-breaking and you feel bad only for a second before replacing the sympathy with rage once more, “Please? Please?” he pleas and you shake your head, struggling not to burst into tears yourself. Why. You don’t know.

“I don’t know if I can trust you anymore.” His head is still on the carpet and normally, you would’ve told him to get up from such a vulnerable position but you’re not even looking at him now, as the annoyance takes over your entire being.

“You can’t, you ca-can’t.” the way his voice breaks has you biting your lip in hopes of not breaking down right then and there. What he did was unacceptable, yes. But everyone made mistakes, some graver than the others and you find yourself asking yourself why Jeongguk couldn’t be given a second chance. Tonguing your cheek, you look around and glance at the other employees who are all sat with sad faces.

“But I promise I’ll never betray you again. Ever. What can I do? What can I do, Y/n?” he hiccups and you stand still, trying to collect all your thoughts as you take in a deep, deep breath. Even the emotionless Soojung watches with pitiful eyes as Jeongguk tries to get out of being fired.

You exhale deeply and Jeongguk, whose back probably starts paining from bending so much, raises his hips, going into a mountain position with his head still in between his arms. It takes him a while, all the crying having made him weak. Jungwoo, the ever so caring worker also watches with a judging gaze as Jeongguk shifts around, not looking up once. His ass raises and falls many times as he tries to find a comfortable position while still trying to look regretful.

“You can get up.” You roll your eyes and speak without looking at him, “What?” Jeongguk still doesn’t look up in case he heard you wrong. You blink in annoyance and speak again louder this time and hopefully clearer because all the shouting previously had most definitely been good for your throat.

“Get up,” Jeongguk raises his head slightly from the floor first and then picks himself up with his muscly arms. You catch a peek at his purple underwear but quickly divert your gaze, making a face after. Jeongguk stands up to his full height and if it weren’t for the slight saliva pooling at the corners of his mouth, you would’ve wanted to slap him. He looks, to an extent, funny and you swallow a giggle, surprised at how quickly your anger had vanished after thinking rationally about the situation.

“And you can hug it out, bitch.”

You open your arms in the slightest and Jeongguk notices this, face turning from upset to happy in a matter of seconds. He wipes his tears with the sleeve of his blazer and you try smiling at him, a gesture he returns with the same amount of enthusiasm.

Jeongguk shuts his eyes for a fraction of a second, nodding to himself in appreciation and abruptly pulls you into one of the most bone-crushing hugs you’ve ever been suffocated in. And that was saying something- your arm once went limp when Daehwi hugged you after a week of him being in Philadelphia.

Jeongguk shuts his eyes, his hot breath fanning your neck and you try not to think much about it, or show any reaction to it and try to wrap your arms around his bulky form in return. “Thank you so much, Y/n.” He mumbles into your hair and a shiver runs down your spine as you clench your hands. His arms around your waist are unmoving and tight, and he only withdraws them when you start to feel your waist paining from his ironclad grip and tap his arms.

He moves back and you send him another smile, more natural this time and he giggles back in return, but you're still not completely over it yet. You have two more things for Jeongguk to do before completely forgiving him and you know that as humiliating one of them will be, you won’t fully forgive him until he agrees.

thanks for reading! this is probably the longest laundry chap so send in feedback and your thoughts about this chapter!

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viking-raider · 5 years

Text

Bound Pt. 4

Summary: You and Henry are on your Honeymoon in Venice, Italy. It starts out a bit rough, but ends on the greatest note.

Pairing: Henry Cavill/Reader

Word Count: 1,916

Rating: G - Fluff, Arranged Marriage, Floof!

Inspiration: Bound: Pt.1, Pt.2, and Pt.3.Originally requested by an Anon.

Author’s Note: I am really enjoying this! I hope you are too!!

Tag List: @jennylovelyheart, @peakygroupie, @jessevans @MITZWINCHESTER @rosie-loves-things, @ohjules, @mary-ann84, @omgkatinka, @hm-fck, @the-freak-cassie-131, @heelsamizayn, @agniavateira, @cap-barnes, @romyr4, @michelehansel, @katiebriggs004-blog, @badassbaker, @sweetsistergingerspice,@thisisntmyrightera, @authentic-bish-face, @rizeandvibe, @severuined

Between the flight and crappy sleep the night before, You and Henry stopped long enough to grab something to eat, take Kal on a walk and check-in to your hotel room, before face planting into bed and sleeping til the next morning. You whimpered feeling Henry's strong arms wrap around your waist and hug you back against him. The pair of you had shared a bed in some capacity since the night you used him as a body pillow, but you weren't intimate beyond kissing either. You were use to feeling how hard Henry was in the mornings, the man was a cuddler, not that you minded, cause you loved cuddling as much as he did. But, the difference in feeling it this morning was that fact you two were officially married and on your honeymoon, it was generally a common practice to have sex on your wedding night, but that didn't end up happening, with how tired you both were. Now, that it was the morning after, you wondered if Henry would expect it, now. He shifted against you, pressing his lips to the back of your shoulder for a long moment, before letting you go and getting out of bed, padding into the bathroom. You moaned again as Kal jumped up on you, excited and probably needing to go to the bathroom, himself.

“Kal, get down.” Henry called softly, coming back into the room. “I'll take you out in a second, let me get dressed.” he told Kal, as he paced around Henry's legs.

Henry got dressed, bent over you as you drifted back off to sleep and kissed your temple, before putting Kal on his leash and taking him out, going for his morning run as well. You were still asleep, when Henry came back an hour later, so he almost closed the bedroom door and stayed in the sitting room with Kal, watching the news and ordered himself some breakfast. He looked up as the bedroom door opened and you stepped out, pulling your hair up into a bun, and smiled brightly at you.

“Coffee?” He asked, motioning to the still hot pot.

“Please.” You nodded, still sounding very sleepy as you sat down beside him on the couch. “Thank you” You said, rubbing your throbbing temples and took the cup of coffee Henry poured you.

“You all right?” Henry frowned, seeing how dark your eyes were, a shade they only were, when you were starting to get a migraine.

“Shitty sleep, airports and Kal snoring straight into my ear all night.” You eyed the offending Akita, who looked at you like he didn't understand a thing.

“You sure that was Kal, and not me?” Henry teased, getting up and going into his luggage.

“I've learned the difference in tone.” You smiled around the rim of your cup. “You snore like a whisper. Kal snores like he's trying to talk over a jet engine.” You laughed, then winced as it made the pressure in your head hurt more.

“We didn't pack any of your migraine medicine.” He said, looking through your luggage next.

“Fuck.” You groaned, sighing and dropping your head back against the couch.

“Don't worry about it.” Henry told you, moving to pull the curtains on all the windows closed, plunging the room into darkness, minus the light from the tv. “I'll go get you some.” He said, kissing the top of your head, pulling on his shoes and going out to the store.

You grinned and blushed after him, only looking away as Kal hopped up on the couch beside you and rested his head on your lap. Like Henry had, Kal had learned your tells as a migraine started to bother you, and always cuddled and stuck close to you through them. “How did I earn you two fabulous boys.” You asked, petting his head, then rolled your eyes. “Through an arranged marriage, that's how.” You corrected yourself, but shrugged. “Maybe it's not so horrid after all, just don't tell your daddy that. Not yet, at least.” You warned Kal, who just looked up at you.

“Four stores, later.” Henry said, holding up the box of migraine medication you took.

“Henry, you shouldn't have gone through all that.” You said, shaking your head. “You could've just gotten me some aspirin.”

“Knowing you, and your migraines, you'd have to take the whole bottle of aspirin to feel any better.” He argued, opening the box, popping two of the small pills out of their bubble packaging and holding them out to you. “and that's seriously bad for your liver.”

“As the doctor orders.” You teased him, washing the medicine down.

“Doctor ordered a few other things, as well.” He told you, setting the bag he was carrying down on the table. He pulled a white bottle out of it and held out to you, still pulling things out of the bag. “So, you stop drinking my Rosemary water.”

“Hey, if you didn't want me to get hooked on it, you shouldn't have given me a sip of it.” You told him, opening the bottle and taking a few gulps of it.

“I'll remember that the next time you're thirsty.” He smiled, pulling out a small purple bottle.

You tilted your head at him, as he pulled you up and sat down on the couch, then sat you back down between his legs. He opened the bottle, and you got the delicate scent of lavender. Pouring some of the contents into his hands, Henry slipped his hands up the back of your shirt and started rubbing your back, massaging the Lavender oil into your skin. You moaned softly, relaxing and closing your eyes at the amazing feel of his big hands working the skin and muscle of your back, making it melt beneath his palms and feeling the tension of the last few days, the flight and your migraine go away with it.

“Why are you an actor?” You moaned, resting your hands on his thick thighs. “and not a masseur for the Gods.”

“I am one for a Goddess, if that counts for anything.” Henry laughed, moving his hands to your shoulders and the back of your neck.

You giggled, “Sweet talker, as well.” You teased him, hanging your head forward.

Henry smiled at you, feeling you completely relax under his hands and felt better knowing that you did. When he finished you laid back against him, turning your face to kiss the underside of his jaw. He wrapped his arms around you, propped his feet up on the coffee table and rested his cheek against your forehead, watching tv with you, his thumb gently caressing your side. Both of you were more than content to relax in the hotel room, cuddled together on the couch and watching whatever, only interrupting to take Kal out to the bathroom and order food. You fell asleep at some point in the late afternoon, and he carried you back to bed, tucking you in and letting Kal cuddle with you as he went back into the sitting room, pulling his laptop out of his bag. He sat back down on the couch and started searching for things to do around Venice with you, and set a couple of things up for you both to do, over the next couple of days.

“Where are we going, Henry?” You asked, taking his hand as you followed him through the streets of Venice.

“You'll see, love.” He smiled back at you, squeezing your hand.

Henry led you down a small street and out near the waterways of Venice. Down a stone walkway, there was a small dock and a long gondola, with its gondolier waiting on the dock. Henry extended his hand to him, shaking hands with him, then smiled at you with a raised brow. You smiled back at him, giggling as he helped you into the boat and followed, sitting beside you as the gondolier pushed the boat away from the dock and propelled it down the waterway. You marveled at the architecture and buildings, enchanted as you glided under a stone bridge, and looked to Henry, who was looking at you, and grinning. You blushed and turned your face away from him, but let him turn your face back towards him, licking your lips as he leaned in, he didn't kiss you though. You looked into his blue eyes and felt your enchantment over the city around you transfer to him, breath catching in your throat, and leaning in closer to him, transfixed.

“I love you, so much, y/n.” He whispered to you, caressing your cheek with the back of his knuckles. “I wouldn't, and don't, want to be with or married to, anyone else on this planet.”

“Oh, Henry.” You blushed, even harder, feeling his love for you, like it was a solid thing, and perhaps it was. That solid thing of love, was Henry himself. “I doubt, anyone's ever loved me like, and as much, as you do.” You brushed your fingers through his hair. “I honestly, don't know how you put with me, or why.” You chuckled, getting a bit choked up.

“Because, you are so lovable.” He whispered, pressing his forehead to yours. “And sweet, and precious. You're altruistic, you push yourself to be better, you challenge those around you to be better, to be their best self, without even knowing that you do. You're generous to everyone and thing, no matter who or what they are, or are not. You're beautiful, inside and out. Every bit the woman I've dreamed of.” He closed his eyes, taking in your warmth, scent and presence. “Even when, you think you're being a brat.”

“Which is often.” You giggled, softly, overtaken. “Fuck.” You huffed, gulping as he opened his eyes, and cupped your head in his hands, seeing the tears in yours. “I'm probably going to regret this later.” You whispered, clutching his jacket in your hands.

“Probably.” He chuckled, wiping at your tears.

“But, I love you too, Henry.” You finally admitted to him, biting your lip.

His smile faded, looking at you with wide eyes and a shocked expression, before his face broke out into the biggest smile you'd ever seen on his face, a tear dripping from his right eye. He let out a short breath, before kissing you with amazing passion. You held on him as you kissed and the gondola took a sharp corner. You hadn't felt this good, or alive, in an extremely long time, and hated yourself for taking so long to let it, and Henry, into the protective fortress you'd built around your heart and emotions, all your life.

“I thought I was excited, when I found out about marrying you.” Henry panted against your lips. “And happy as all get out, when we married. But,” his mouth worked, but no words came out, he had none, nothing could describe how overwhelmingly happy he was.

“I know.” You told him, brushing away his tears. “I get it, you don't need to say it.” You assured him, resting your forehead on his again and closing your eyes. “I love you.” You sighed, saying it without thought, but full of emotion.

Henry grinned, closing his eyes too. “I love you, y/n. Now, and always.” He promised.

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possiamo-andare · 4 years

Text

Evergreen: Incantava

Eleonora x Edoardo

MASTERLIST

word count: 3.8k

summary: Edoardo and Eleonora bond after Chicco breaks one of Eleornora’s potted plants.

a/n: idk how i feel about this since I’m not 100% comfortable writing about incantava. I’m still trying to figure out how to write the dynamics of their relationship. Hopefully I was somewhat close. enjoy!

Eleonora Sava came to the realisation that parties were not something she liked. Of course, if it was a celebration that consisted of just her close friends, some nice penne pasta, and music then she would have enjoyed it. But the party that was being hosted in her home right now wasn't that kind of party. Fede had told her that it would be a small gathering, not more than fifteen people. The truth was just the reverse. The truth was that he had welcomed everybody he met, about two hundred people, along with some of the most irritating music she'd ever heard. It wasn't the hardest part of it. Sadly, an invitation had been extended to Edo Incanti. Somehow, the boy who everyone knew she despised was invited to her party. She didn't know who allowed it but by looking at Gio’s mischievous grin, she knew he was the culprit. Gio had thought they would be amazing together and made sure Ele heard him. Edo pinned after her like a lost puppy dog after she had told him off at the yard just weeks before. Though Gio mocked her (which she protested against) about their compatibility, she was still indifferente to this curly guy. If Ele was anything, it was stubborn.

“El -” Eva hiccuped in Ele’s ear, hanging onto her as if the floor underneath the intoxicated girl was trembling. “Ele.”

“Hm?” Ele hummed, too distracted to give her friend a long winded answer. She searched for Edo through the crowd. Although she would never admit she was, she couldn’t help herself. It was as if her eyes were drawn to him.

“I need to go to the bathroom.” Eva slurred her words together, almost unintelligible.

Fortunately for Ele, she was fluent in drunken Eva's language and instinctively understood what her friend wanted from her. With a deep sigh and the beginning of a headache, she guided Eva to her washroom where she prayed that Eva would not ask for any more help. Thankfully, Ele did not have to push through the crowd, most people moving out of the way when they saw a drunk girl and her sober friend dashing towards the bathroom.

“I’m gonna wait here.” Ele stated, finally letting go of her drunk friend and pushing her through the threshold of the door.

Eva says nothing, only giggling as she slowly closes the door behind her. Only when Ele hears the familiar sound of a lock clicking, does she finally relax. Tonight has not been the best. She’s been so worried about everyone else, she had not any time to herself to actually party. This was one of the reasons she didn’t like huge parties; she was always the one running around looking after everyone.

She kept her head high, however. She wasn't going to let some bad music and a greedy asshole ruin, a happy night with her friends. Granted, Eva was drunk beyond belief and Silvia had disappeared half way through the night but Ele was determined to let nothing ruin her mood. Because of this determination, she decided it is best to avoid Edo all night to keep her joy intact. She told herself it was because he had a talent of upsetting her in ways no one else could. It was definitely not because he looked too handsome for his own good, or because his curly hair fell around his face in a way that made her stomach drop. It was purely because she hated him. And she always would.

This was proven to be nearly impossible because Edo and his friends loved to cause mayhem and Ele seemed to be constantly looking over her shoulder to see if they were behaving themselves. Even now, as she waited outside the door of the washroom for her friend, she couldn't help but scan the room for the curly haired boy and his rambunctious friends. Unfortunately, it was too late. The second her eyes landed on the group of boys, was also the second Chicco opened the sliding glass door that led to her balcony. Ele's balcony housed tons of different types of potted plants, all very delicate. Only a person that understood botany and the intricacy of flora could enter. Chicco did not fit this criteria. Ele knew what was going to happen before it even did. And when she heard the familiar sound of a pot crashing (having dropped many pots before), she only rolled her eyes. Of course Chicco would be the one to break one of her potted plants.

“Hey!” Ele watches as Edo raises his hands in exasperation, not stepping over the threshold of her balcony. He was almost like a vampire; he couldn’t enter the balcony without the owner allowing him to. It was that, or he understood Ele’s boundaries and the first option seemed more viable. “Dio mio Chicco!”

Ele rushes over to her balcony, leaving Eva in the bathroom. Although she wants to see Edo tell Chicco off for being so clumsy, she rather handle him herself. She didn;t need another reason to thank Edo. She had already said thanks to him way too many times. She approaches Edo at the door of her balcony quietly, as to not draw too much attention to the fact they were talking. Edo is too busy scolding Chicco to see her first and she has to speak up before he even looks to his right.

“What’s happened?” Ele asks, her arms already crossed and her brows pushed together.

These are the walls she puts up whenever she’s around Edo because she’s too scared to show him what her eyes might actually show him. So, she forces herself to look annoyed all the time. Truth is, she could care less if the pot was broken. There was a market ten minutes from her home and the pot cost so little but since Edo was behind the culprit who broke it, she knew she’d have to give him a hard time. God forbid she was easy on Edo. She didn’t want him walking around thinking she had a soft spot for him.

“Ele,” Edo sighs, running his hands through his curly (but shitty) hair. Ele watches from behind him as Chicco is carried out from her balcony and placed on her couch by some of Edo’s friends. Chicco is still smiling and acting as if nothing is the matter. “I’m so sorry. I’ll buy you a new one.”

Ele finally crans her head and looks through the open door of her balcony, finding the mess Chicco left. It’s not as bad as she thought but she can’t let Edo know that. One of her smaller flowers, an evergreen plant her brother bought her last week, has been knocked over. The pot it’s in is cracked and most of the soil is on the floor. Although she’s made a worse mess, she knows Edo feels just terrible. She indulges in the idea that he feels this way for his friend’s accident, considering all the turmoil he’s put her through the last year. Not to mention, the date he made her go on with him. Of course, he technically never forced her and she could’ve just come clean to Silvia and she did actually have a pretty good time, but that's besides the point.

Ele looks back at Edo who, to Ele’s glee, looks terrified and frowns deeper. “That was my favourite plant!” It was, infact, not but she wanted to screw with Edo and by the look on his face, it was working.

Edo rubs his temples, a horrible feeling churning in his stomach. “I’m so sorry, Ele.”

Ele rolls her eyes, suppressing a smile. “Nothing you can do now. I’m just gonna get another pot tomorrow.” She’s just about to turn around when, to her surprise, Edo places a gentle touch to her elbow. She stops before she can turn and feels her heartbeat pick up speed from just that simple touch.

“Let me help. It’s the least I could do.” Edo watches as Ele’s eyes stare at where his fingers caress her elbow and he realizes he has just touched her. It was an accident and he had forgotten, for a moment, how much she hated him.

Ele shakes her head, watching as Edo quickly takes his hand off her elbow. “Eduardo -”

“Edoardo.” He corrects, a small smirk on his face. She’s back to being her snarky self.

“ - I don’t need your help.” She ignores his correction, like all the times she has before.

Edo shrugs. “It’s the least I can do.” He really wants to help. Not to mention, he hopes this good deed will get on Ele’s good side considering he’s been on her bad side for way too long.

Ele shakes her head, indignant. “No, the least you could’ve done was never come to this party.” With that, she turns on her heels and walks away from Edo. She hopes he gets the hint and tries not to follow her but she hears him behind her, only a few steps away.

She decides to get away from this party and see if the market is open. The night has not gone the way she hoped and, in some ways, Chicco helped her out by breaking that pot. Now she can escape the crowd by busying herself with her plants. Although she knows it’s rude to leave her guests, she decides to forget about manners. At least for tonight.

“It was an open invitation.” Edo quips, biting his lip and stifling a laugh, She looks so stiff as she walks, she wonders how she’s able to keep such a straight posture. “Besides, if you didn’t want me to come -”

Ele grabs her coat from the closet and finally turns around to face Edo. She has no good argument so she stays quiet as she adjusts the sleeves on her coat. Although she is facing Edo, she makes no effort to look him in the eyes as he continues to blabber on about Lord knows what.

“Edo! Sta 'zitto!” She just wants him to be quiet for a moment so she can collect her thoughts. Her mind is so scrambled by the loud music and cheering, she slips up and accidentally calls Edo by the nickname so many people call him.

Edo smiles. “Edo? Well, Eleonora Sava, I never thought we were that close.”

Ele rolls her eyes, her cheeks burning from embarrassment. “We’re not.”

Edo leans forward and reaches over her head to grab his coat from the closet. She wishes he wasn’t so close but at the same time, he smells so damn good. Ele’s mind is going so crazy that, for a moment, she goes dizzy. He quickly gets his coat and puts in on himself before Ele even has a chance to ask him what he is doing. For a moment, she thinks he may be going home but she knows better than to think Edo would actually listen to her.

“Well, we went on a date so I’d say we’re pretty close.” He still wears that handsome smirk on his lips and Ele wishes he would stop looking so good just for a second so she could be actually upset with him.

Ele rolls her eyes, ignoring his last comment. She’s more concerned with why he has his coat on. “Why do you have your coat on?”

Edo adjusts his collar, glancing at the mirror to his right before looking back at Ele. “First, you’re basically telling me to leave and now you want to know where I’m going. You’re one confusing woman, Eleonora Sava.”

Ele can’t help but cross her arms over her chest. “You’re going home?” She already knows the answer but asks anyway.

Edo shakes his head. “Of course not. I’m gonna accompany you to get another pot.”

Ele narrows her eyes, stepping closer towards her front door. “How did you know -”

Ele’s cut off by Edo’s laugh and she feels her heart flutter. She quickly swallows and tries to suppress the feeling in her chest as she listens to Edo laugh. “C’mon, Ele, you were looking for an excuse to leave this party. I was watching you. You look like a fish out of water.”

Ele tries to ignore the part where Edo was watching her all night and instead focuses on his teasing of how much she feels uncomfortable in crowds. “Well, not everyone can be Eduardo Incanti, the king of partying and getting shit faced drunk.”

Edo shrugs, a sly smirk always present on his face. “What can I say; I’m the life of the party.”

Ele rolls her eyes yet again. She knows that there has to be some kind of record she has broken because she is constantly rolling her eyes around Edo. “You’re not coming.”

Edo fishes in his coat pocket for a moment before pulling a wad of cash clipped together. He comically waves it in front of Ele’s face for a moment and she can’t help but smile at how stupid he is acting. She wonders if any other girl has seen this side of Edo and although she wants to say yes, she knows the truth. Edo proceeds to take three 20€ from the clip before putting the rest back in his pocket.

“You can keep the change.” He grabs Ele’s hand before she can pull away and hands her the cash. She ignores the way Edo’s fingers feel against her wrist and instead focuses on how that much money feels in her hands.

“Are you trying to bribe me?” Ele asks, her other hand moving to the doorknob. She twists it and opens before Edo has time to reply.

“Maybe. Is it working?”

Ele had been in Edo’s car on one occasion and she had been beyond uncomfortable. He had come to pick her up for their date and although she was furious, she was more uncomfortable. She had not been on a date for years and she hated the feeling of putting on her best face to impress someone you liked. What was even worse was that she didn’t even like Edo so she was getting ready for someone she didn’t even like.

His car was nothing special. Yes, it was expensive but it was Edoardo Incanti and she suspected he would have a luxurious car. Something that threw her off about his car was that it wasn’t flashy. It was a black, small Benz and although luxurious, it was not in the least flashy. The engine was even quiet, which was something she definitely thought he would have upgraded for something louder. This car did not seem like something someone as pompous as Edo would drive.

As she got in his car for the second time, the same thoughts crossed her mind. He had opened the door for her this time, unlike last where he never got out, and she tried to chalk it up to him being his usually egotistical self. The truth was, everything she had originally thought of Edo was proven not to be true. His car was not flashy and neither were his clothes. Yes, his personality showed her an egotistical player but everything else about him was muted. She wondered how wrong she truly was about him.

“Are you there, amore?” Edo’s voice snapped her from her thoughts. She could hear the amusement in his voice as he questioned whether or not she was listening to him.

Ele looked at him, clearly annoyed as he drove down the street. “Do not call me that.”

Edo nodded, pressing his lips together as to laugh at her bewilderment. SHe looked like a deer in headlights when she heard him call her by that pet name. “Sorry.”

Ele rolled her eyes, watching as he pulled into the market’s driveway. “No, you’re not.” Once his car had fully come to a stop, she opened the door herself and closed it with a loud slam. If it was anyone else, she would have been polite but all of her manners are thrown out the window when it comes to Edo.

Edo walks around the front of his car and approaches Ele, loving his car with a button. “You’re right. I’m not.”

Ele pushes past the shitty haired boy and makes her way towards the white tarp where she knows the pots and plants are located. By this time, the market is closed but it is family owned and run so the owners leave the tarp open for passersby to stop and buy a plant. Ele doesn’t bother to look back at Edo and enters the white tarp and starts looking for the right size pot.

As Ele browses through the aisles, looking for the brown pots she has bought on more than one occasion, Edo scrolls through his phone at the entrance of the tarp. When Ele turns around to walk into the next aisle, she sees Edo at the entrance and scoffs. Of course he would be on his phone. She stops looking for a moment and walks back to Edo at the entrance of the tarp.

“If you don’t wanna be here -” Ele starts but never gets a chance to finish her sentence before Edo starts speaking over her.

“It says here that during the winter, Evergreens can enhance comfort and cut heating expenses by protecting homes from brisk winds. Their thick foliage reduces cooling costs when it shields buildings from bright summer sunlight. They also block and absorb traffic noise throughout the year.” Edo smiles as he continues to read interesting facts on his phone about this interesting plant.

Ele nods. “Yes. I did know that.” She always had praised herself for knowing so much about the plants she cares for.

Edo looks up from his phone and at Ele, a smirk playing on his lips. He closes his phone and Ele watches as the only source of light vanishes from his face. She can still see his face from the light shining from the lamppost nearby but the night turns to light blue. “I guess people are kinda like Evergreens.”

Ele raises her brows, not understanding what Edo has just said in the least. “What?”

Edo shrugs, clearly embarrassed by voicing such an out of pocket comment and not explaining. “I don’t know, like, when you’re around good people, they can make you feel comfortable and warm. They can block out all the noise and make it feel as if it’s only the two of you. You know?”

Ele is taken aback by the insight Edo has just shared with her. Before, she thought it nearly impossible for him to ever say something of substance but he has proved her wrong. For the first time since their date, they’re having a sincere conversation. “I know what you mean.”

Edo finally steps inside the tarp and closer to Ele. She’s beyond scared of what is happening between them but she forces herself to stay in one place. As Edo walks closer to her, he reaches up to tuck a strand of hair behind her ear. Ele lets him do this, wanting it more than she wants to admit it. Without realizing it, her hand reaches up to touch Edo’s and she lets his hand rest against her cheek. They’re standing so close to each other, Ele is sure he is going to try to kiss her. The most surprising part is she wants him to. She’s been wondering for way too long how his lips would feel against hers.

Surprisingly, Edo does the exact opposite. After moments of just standing there, he removes his hand from Ele’s face and takes a step back from her. Although she is beyond surprised, she says nothing and instead turns back around, resuming her search for the pots. She rounds another corner and walks into the last aisle to see the pots, stacked on the floor. She picks up the one she thinks is the right size before turning to the entrance to see if Edo is still standing there. She smiles at him for what seems like the first time and then walks to him, a pot in her arms. When she finally approaches him again, his signature smirk is back on his lips.

“Found one.” Ele extends her arms forwards, signalling to Edo that she wants him to take it. Understanding right away, Edo takes the pot from her arms to allow Ele to leave some money behind for the pot.

As he watches her dig through her pocket for the money he had given her, Edo wanders to his relationship with Ele. He knows it’s rocky. That would be an understatement. One minute, she’s pretending to be upset with him to make him feel bad and the next second, she’s allowing him to touch her hair. He knew the second she saw the plant that she was faking but he refused to say anything. He knows Ele doesn’t completely understand how well he can read her. He’s been watching her for over a year now, pining and following after a girl who, until a few weeks ago, he was sure didn’t want anything to do with him. Now, everything has changed.

“That should be enough.” Ele says, looking back to Edo. She left one of the 20€ inside the jar of tips the owners had, hoping they would understand that someone came during the night to buy a pot. When Ele finally makes eye contact with Edo again, she can see his mind is elsewhere as he watches her. “You alright?” She knows this is a dumb question considering what had just happened between them but she can not help herself.

Edo nods, clearing his throat before speaking. “I want us to be friends Ele.”

Ele tries to build a wall between him, knowing where this conversation is going. “That’s not what it’s felt like.”

Edo shrugs, smiling at the scared girl. He figured that’s all Ele was underneath; a girl scared of falling in love. “We should at least try.”

Ele thinks for a moment. She wants this but at the same time, she doesn’t want to give Edo the satisfaction of letting them become friends. She knows the more time she spends with him, the more she will inevitably feel something for him. As much as she knows that can’t happen, she also wants to be happy. “I guess.”

Edo sets down the pot for a moment and extends his hand to Ele to shake. Surprised, Ele wearily extends her hand and allows for Edo to shake it. As their hands touch, they both feel a current being exchanged between the both of them. Ele and Edo feel the electricity flow from their fingertips all the way to their chest and explode. They both know what it means and although they rather not say it aloud, they both know they can never truly be friends.

As they both enter Edo’s car, there is only silence between them. And although they are not saying anything, they are thinking the same thing. When they were touching each other, they felt comfortable and warm. They felt at peace. They felt like Evergreens.

tagging my friend @teamnick who loves incantava as much as I do <3

#eleonora sava #edoardo incanti #edoardo x eleonora #incantava #incantava fic #skamitalia #skamit #skam italia #skamverse #edo #ele #eleonora x edoardo fic

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echo-bleu · 4 years

Text

Cactuses

A really cracky soulmate AU that is entirely @mansikkaomenabanaani’s fault.

Isobel observed him from behind a large potted plant in the hospital lobby. She had spotted him from the corner of her eye in store parking lot next door, and she couldn't help but follow him all the way here. He was making it easy for her, walking slowly, leaning heavily on two crutches.

She hid behind various pieces of furniture, more or less successfully, until he disappeared behind a door marked Physical Therapy. He seemed to sense that he was followed, but he spotted her only once, and she immediately turned away and pretended to be doing something else, so she was fairly sure he didn't suspect her.

She needed to know who he was.

Not because he was hot. She had no idea if he was, truly. Humans were a mystery to her in that sense. Ever since she'd made it to Earth, she tried to figure out the strange ways of human courtship, but they eluded her completely.

No, physically, he was vaguely human shaped, enough that he wouldn’t easily be confused with a dolphin, and that was enough. His soul, however, very clearly looked like a cactus, with spikes going in every direction, forbidding anyone from approaching.

Exactly like someone else she knew.

What to do? She couldn't exactly barge into his physical therapy to ask his name. Even she knew that was impolite. Instead, she settled in to wait for him to come back out. She sat down on a bench facing the right corridor and crossed her legs princely, like she'd seen human females do when they wanted to look unbothered by their surroundings.

She tapped her comlink until it beeped. “Michael!”

“What, Izzy?” her brother grumbled, sounding like he'd just woken up. He was in orbit, working on repairing their spaceship. They would have been gone days ago if their ship hadn't suddenly decided to blow a fuse in the middle of nowhere and this stupid planet had the replacement material they needed. They weren't even supposed to land on Earth at all, they were on their way back to Antar and it just happened to be the closest livable planet at the time.

It was just so backward. The people here, for some reason, thought they were better than any other species, including the other semi-sentient beings on their own planets, and snubbed or downright hated aliens. The planet had almost self-destructed at first contact, when Antar had done them the civility of fixing their climate issue and they had responded by declaring war on any and all alien life.

It was better now, several decades in, but visible aliens still got the side-eye anywhere they went. Thankfully, Isobel knew how to disguise herself.

“I found him!” she said excitedly.

“Who?”

“Your soulmate!”

She could hear Michael roll his eyes from here. “Izzy, I told you, I don't care about my soulmate. I don't have a soulmate.”

“Everyone has a soulmate! And I've just found yours.”

Michael sighed. “Izzy, where are you? Do I need to tell Max to pick you up?”

“No!” Isobel said a little to loudly−several head turned toward her. Pity the telepathic connection had a distance constraint. “I'm fine. I'm gonna find out who he is.”

“He? Izzy, are you stalking him?”

“Only a little! Until I know his name. You'll thank me later.”

“I most certainly will not,” Michael huffed.

“Whatever,” Isobel ended the call.

She waited for what felt like a long time, staring at the corridor so she wouldn't miss him. Humans came to ask her twice if she needed something, but she just nudged them telepathically and they forgot about her.

Finally, the human-shaped cactus came out. He was just as slow and careful as before, and Isobel narrowed her eyes to see his physical shape better. Ha. His right leg was missing and he had a prosthesis, not even a good one. They could get him a better one on Antar. The soul-scars, which took longer to scab over than the skin-scars, were still fresh, raw. He'd lost people. He'd had a hard life. Spikes, for every blow he took, every demeaning comment, every time someone who should have loved him abandoned him. He had many.

“Hi,” Isobel said with a smile, coming up to him.

The human laid his eyes on her, and they widened in surprise. Of course. Her eyes never quite looked human. Isobel nudged him, and encountered resistance.

A human who could protect his own mind? She had to see that.

She knocked. He let her in. Well, not in, but in an anteroom of some kind. She couldn't go any further.

“It's not very polite to try to barge in,” she heard behind her. She turned to find his mental projection looming over her. “Who are you?”

“I'm Isobel,” Isobel answered in his language. “Antarian. And your…what do you call it, sister-in-law. Soon.”

“What?” he frowned.

“You're my brother's soulmate.”

He gave her a disbelieving look. “Humans don't have soulmates,” he said. “And I don't know your brother. Or do I?”

“Not yet,” Isobel said. “And humans can be other species' soulmates. It's rare, but it happens.”

“Okay,” the human said, though she could sense that he didn't believe her. “Why are you in my mind?”

“Because I need to make sure you're the right person for him,” Isobel answered.

“If I'm his soulmate, aren't we already connected? Does it matter if we're right for each other?”

“It matters to me,” Isobel shrugged. “Michael deserves someone good.”

“What will you do if I'm not?”

“My soulmate was bad. He...died.”

He raised an eyebrow. “And if I'm good?”

“Then you're coming with me back to our ship, and then to our planet,” Isobel answered.

“Oh, is that right?”

“Yes.”

“What if I have things to do here? I have a life, you know. I can't just slip off without notice, let alone move to another planet.”

Isobel huffed, frustrated. “My brother is your soulmate. What could be more important than that?”

“Um, learning to walk again?” he offered.

“We can arrange that”, Isobel said, without missing a beat. “You don't need to be on Earth for that.”

“My job, then? I'm in the Air Force, I can't just go AWOL.”

“I assume that means go missing? We can also arrange that. There is an interplanetary treaty on soul-bounds. And if you're a soldier, we can easily find you a job on Antar. A better one than you have here, most likely.”

“My friends?”

“No family?” Isobel asked.

“None that would miss me,” he answered, a shadow coming over his face. So that was where some of the spikes were from, then.

“Then it will be easier,” Isobel said. “Your friends can come with, if you want them to. Or they can visit when you're settled. It's a bit of a journey, but it can be done. I'm told Antar is a good vacation spot. Beautiful views.”

The human laughed. “Not that I'm not enjoying this fantasy, but aren't we getting a little ahead of ourselves?”

“You're right,” Isobel nodded. “I don't even know your name.”

“Alex. And you should let me sit down, or I'm probably going to fall over.”

Isobel snapped out of his mind, and she found his aura wavering and darkening with pain. “I'm sorry, Alex,” she said sheepishly, working her mouth around his name.

Alex shakily took the few steps that separated him from the bench Isobel was sitting on earlier and dropped onto it. “Shit,” he muttered through gritted teeth, taking a pill bottle out of his pocket and swallowing two tablets.

“Are you okay?”

“I will be. PT is a bitch.”

“Did you lose your leg in the war?” Isobel asked, mostly from curiosity. She had no idea what stupid internal war was going on between humans, and she didn't particularly care, but she cared about this human. He was hers to care about now.

“Yes. Three months ago. Drove onto a bomb.”

Humans were barbarians, Isobel thought. There were so many much more efficient ways to kill people. She's been particularly creative, with Noah, manipulating lightning with Max. He'd deserved it.

“You deserve better than this shitty planet,” she said without thinking.

Damn, how did she get from stalking him because he was Michael's soulmate to actually caring about him in so little time?

There was something about his soul. The dangerous cactus had a softness too. Between the spikes was soft, fluffy tissue, pulsing with light. Oh, he and Michael would be like velcro together.

Alex's aura turned purple suddenly. “I don't deserve anything,” he murmured.

Isobel frowned. “You really have nothing for you here, do you? Nothing that ties you to this place.”

Alex shook his head miserably.

“Then you definitely deserve better,” Isobel said. “Michael has been through a lot, too. You'll fit together.”

“But why me? Why would I be his soulmate?”

Isobel shrugged. “Soulmates don't have a reason. They just are. Do you like males?”

“If you mean men, then yes.”

“I don't discriminate species,” Isobel huffed. “Do you think aliens are inferior?”

“No,” Alex said firmly. “Despite what you've been led to believed, all humans don't think that way. Only the ones in power.”

“Perfect. Then you're coming with me. I need to introduce you to my brother.”

#roswell new mexico #malex #malex fic #alex manes #isobel evans #michael guerin #soulmate au #crack #mine #echo's fanfiction

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jewishjon · 4 years

Note

Thomastair prompt: AU where they're neighbors. They didn't talked much before but during the quarantine they start a friendship (or even more 👀) from their balconies when one of them accidentally hear the other's phone conversation.

Overheard - A Thomas x Alastair Modern AU one shot

“Cut the shit, Charles. It’s over. I’ve told you so many times before and I don’t know why you won’t listen to me. Stop it. And don’t come to my apartment to beg for forgiveness. We’re in a quarantine, for God’s sake.”

Thomas Lightwood stepped forward a few more steps, listening closely. He hid behind his balcony door so Alastair Carstairs didn’t see him listening to his conversation on his balcony from his apartment. It wasn’t spying, thought Thomas. It was just... overhearing right? He totally wasn’t listening to his neighbour of four months break up with his annoying boyfriend for the millionth time. It definitely wasn’t because Alastair was very handsome, and just happened to be gay. It wasn’t like Thomas had started stuttering and blushing whenever he encountered Alastair outside their apartments in the hallway that they shared.

Thomas shook himself. He wasn’t fooling anyone at this point, not even himself. He had a crush on Alastair Carstairs. He was a grown man, who had just moved into his own apartment, and he had some kind of embarrassing schoolboy crush on his hot neighbour. He just had to pray that Alastair wouldn’t recognise him from their days at middle school, when Thomas had trailed after Alastair like a lost puppy.

Thomas had changed a lot from that small, shy boy. Most noticeably of all, he had had a giant growth spurt and now towered over all his friends. Realising he was gay and coming out to all his friends and family had helped his confidence a lot, although he’d somehow managed to never have a kiss. He was a twenty year old man, and he’d never even kissed anyone. He’d had a crush on Alastair in middle school, although he hadn’t known it at the time. Alastair had been a bully who relentlessly made Thomas and his friends’ lives hell. He was sure Alastair had changed since he had left school at the end of middle school, though. It had been a large shock to find Alastair Carstairs standing in the door of the recently sold apartment next to his, carrying a potted plant and a large box. He had only told Alastair his first name and he hadn’t recognised Thomas yet, and Thomas hoped he would never. Thomas was constantly mortified by his actions in middle school, as any self respecting person would be. And now he’d probably never have the chance to talk to Alastair, with this stupid quarantine and virus going around.

To make matters worse, Alastair’s shitty ex boyfriend Charles who wouldn’t leave him alone was none other than the annoying older brother of one of Thomas’ best friends, Matthew. Thomas had been about to will himself make a move on Alastair when Charles had appeared in the corridor one day and forced himself on a disgruntled Alastair. Watching them kiss had... not been the most pleasant experience in the world for Thomas, although Alastair had apologised for the interruption profusely. Since then, every other week, Alastair would tell Charles it was really over this time, and Charles would turn up at his apartment fifteen minutes later with a cheap bouquet of flowers and begged Alastair to get back with him. It appeared the quarantine had not disturbed their usual routine, only that they were doing it over phone this time.

So, Thomas Lightwood, was spying on his neighbour, whether he’d like to admit it or not.

“I swear to god, Charles, just leave me alone!” Shouted Alastair. “I’m done with you! Why can’t you accept that? All you do is get on my nerves, and then beg me to take you back! I’m not doing this anymore!”

Alastair groaned and massaged his temples. “I can’t be your little secret any more. We’re not in the 20th century, Charles! Gay people are allowed to be together, and it’s ridiculous that you think you had to hide me from the world in order to progress your career. I’m sorry that you have so much homophobia around you that you feel you have to hide, but that’s not my problem to deal with. I want to be in an open, happy relationship. This is never going to work, Charles. Goodbye.”

Alastair hung up, and slumped down into a plastic chair on his balcony, sighing.

“I can get Matthew to talk to Charles to get him to leave you alone, if you to?”

Alastair shot up like a light, and for the first time, he saw Thomas on his balcony. “You... you heard all of that? Were you spying on me?”

Thomas froze. “No, I just... overheard it. I’ve heard a lot of the other times, too. I’m sorry that Charles is bothering you.”

Alastair sighed. “It’s fine. It’s not your problem, Thomas. You don’t need to care.” He paused for a second. “Wait, how do you know Matthew? I’ve never seen you him around before.

Thomas swore under his breath. “You probably don’t recognise me, but I’m Thomas Lightwood. From middle school.”

Alastair’s eyes widened in surprise. “Shit. You’ve become giant, Lightwood. What the hell is Sophie feeding you?”

Thomas laughed. “I had a growth spurt. A very sudden one. No one expected it, really.”

Alastair leant back, smirking. He raised an eyebrow. “Look at is now. Alastair Carstairs and Little Pipsqueak, stuck next to each other during a global pandemic.” He turned to look at Thomas. “Do you want to talk more, Lightwood?”

Thomas smiled, his cheeks heating up. “Yes, I’d quite like that, I think.”

#chain of gold #chain of iron #chain of thorns #chog #cog #cog2 #the last hours #tlh #alastair carstairs #thomas lightwood

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keelywolfe · 4 years

Text

FIC: Safety In Numbers (SpicyHoneyMustard, lemon)

Summary: Red knows how to play the game. The only problem is, not everyone gets out unscathed.

Tags: SpicyHoneyMustard, Fontcest, Fellcest, Sibling Incest, Threesome, Background Kustard, Established Relationship, Possessive Behavior, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, LEMONY GOODNESS!!, Unhealthy Relationship, Unnamed Ship

Sequel to:

Showtime

Secret Garden

A Judicious Amount of Effort

Musically Inclined

Lest You Be Judged

Solo Act

Appealing To Better Judgment

~~*~~

Read it on AO3

Read it here!

~~*~~

Refuge.

That was what Toriel named the protected Monster settlement that rose up at the base of the mountain, for all the Monsters who either couldn’t or wouldn’t live in Ebott.

Red supposed if there was nothing else, they could all thank her for sparing them from whatever dumb shit Ass-gore would’ve called it, like New New Home.

Despite all the treaties and negotiations, there were plenty of Monsters still living there. Some found that once they set their feet on the grass, they were about as far away from the mountain as they cared to get. Some were plain afraid to live out amongst the Humans. And a fair few simply weren’t allowed to leave, their little laminated ID cards didn’t grant them clearance through the front gate. Monsters with LV, Monsters with an appearance that might be considered disturbing. Any Monster likely to hit a ten on the Human freak-o-meter wasn’t allowed out not yet, anyway. Made sense, really. If they scared the shit out of the Humies by going too fast, they’d be lucky if they only ended up chased back beneath the mountain and not used as potting soil.

Try telling that to the dumbfucks, though. Red kept an ear hole close to the ground for any incoming gossip and from what was coming down the line it looked like the Assholes of Asgore were using it as a recruiting point. Red suspected that they didn’t have only have the interest of one or two disgruntled folks.

Anyone with half a lick of sense should see through their bullshit, but if Red was supposed to count on any of the dipshits he knew underground having common sense, he might as well shove a bone through his own soul now and spare anyone else the trouble of dusting him.

Their real goal was to start the bloody war Asgore promised them all and if they managed it, well, it was gonna be a pretty damn short one. Magic was handy dandy, all right, but the Humans kinda outnumbered them a million to one. Hell, while they’d been down below twiddling their thumbs, the Humans figured out their own version of magic, one that was a fuckton more explosive than anything Monsters had on tap. If Red was a betting man, and he was, thanks, he knew which odds he was putting down on.

Red looked out the tinted window of the car driving him through the newly paved streets of Refuge, watching the scenery pass by. Much as he hated being chauffeured around, these days he didn’t have a whole lot of choice. Back when he was training in the guard, there was still some opportunity to skulk around. Strip away his uniform and its delta rune crest, and he was only another Monster with a shitty attitude wandering into Grillby’s for a drink.

Being Chosen took away any chance he had of wandering around unnoticed. Even if Red slipped away from Rus, his face was too well-known now and probably rated a solid six on the Humies freak-o-meter.

If he thought the chucklefucks throwing themselves at Rus’s feet begging for blessings were annoying, it was a damn sight worse when they tried that shit on him. As if he had any say in the way the Universe trundled on down the road. He wasn’t the one second in the queue to chat with the Angel, thanks, and none of the Divine had seen fit to give him their direct line.

Shame Edge didn’t let him fuck with them; a few broken fingers and a bruise or two might give them all a little peace, but eh, his bro was a spoilsport that way. His own fault for leaving the kid on his own years ago while he skulked off to join the guard, instead of sticking around to teach him what’s what. Edge’s code of morals didn’t line up so much with Red’s anymore and wasn’t that a bitch.

He pulled out a pack of cigarettes and shook one out, ignoring the sour look the driver gave him in the rearview mirror. They didn’t say a peep, though, kept whatever words they wanted to say locked up tight behind their tusks. Being Chosen did have a few perks other than risking his life and getting to spend plenty of quality time communing with Rus’s pussy.

Red lit the cigarette with a harsh rasp of his lighter, took a long drag of smoke and breathed it out as he leaned his skull against the cool window glass, watching the blurred landscape. The streets were lined with cheaply made carbon-copy houses, but there wasn’t a whole lotta room to complain about that. The first few months most of ‘em spent huddled in patched-up tents given to them by the reluctant Human government, miserable in the spring rain and mud that tried to suck off your shoes with every step. Far as Red was concerned, all Monsters should be damned grateful for a house to call their own and if someone wanted their place shaped like a fucking fish, they were gonna have to wait their turn.

Yeah, lots of Monsters struggled when they hit sunshine, trying to wrap their minds around everything that happened. Red wasn’t one of them. He’d been Chosen only days after his boots hit the ground, but he’d spent some time out in the mudholes, searching out threats against his freshly appointed Judge. He’d learned a few useful tricks before putting on a uniform and they sure did come in handy from time to time.

These days, Red didn’t get out as much anymore. Maybe if Rus had more Chosen than only him and Edge, he could’ve kept up with it, but it hadn’t worked out that way. The kid needed him, all of him, and that was that.

Inconvenient, yeah, but probably just as well. Kept him from having to hold the lid down on his boiling need to shiv anyone who fucking dared touch what was his. He played nice enough when it came to all the unity mumbo jumbo bullshit, the Judge was an avatar of the Angel, the Judge belonged to the people, yeah, sure, he’d toe the party line.

But when it came to laying hands on his boy there was only one other Monster with the right. He was as much Red’s as Rus was and that’d be true until the day Red shivered to dust.

So, yeah, he couldn’t do the footwork himself anymore, eh, sucks to suck. Instead, he was forced to rely on other Monsters to keep him rolling in that sweet, sweet info. He’d vetted all of them himself, checked into every detail of their lives all the way back to the day they dropped from their mama’s cooch. Every single one of them was loyal as fuck to the Angel and as willing to spy on each other as they were anyone else, and that right there helped weed out most of the trouble. Wasn’t a perfect method, but it usually worked pretty well and let Red keep his fingers hooked into a few pies. That was, whenever he could pull 'em out of Rus's desserts.

Right now, all his people were working overtime, trying to dig up some dirt on how those fuckers managed to get into the cafeteria to take a pot shot at Rus. When they finally got something concrete, Red planned to deal with it personally, and if Rus ended up giving him a Judging look over it, he didn’t much give a shit. He was Chosen for the Judge, to protect them in every way possible and if the Angel was having second thoughts about it, She could stop by and deal with it herself.

None of that had shit to do with what he was up to today.

The house his car pulled up in front of was as unremarkable as the rest, a cookie-cutter copy with different curtains and a doormat. The driveway was empty but that didn’t mean shit. He already knew they were home, had to be, because they never damn well left.

“stay here,” Red ordered the driver. He nodded silently, sodium-yellow eyes meeting Red’s in the rear-view mirror. Red got out, hopping down to the ground from the high seat with a silent grumble. He took a last drag of his cigarette and flicked the butt into the gutter. Straightening his uniform shirt was an automatic to him these days as taking his next breath. Didn’t make Red hate the fucking thing any less and he forced his hands back down as he trudged up the walkway.

He didn’t knock on the front door. Instead, he went around to the back of the house where he already knew what he would find. A turn of the corner an expansive garden was spread out before him, filled with neat rows of greenery already creeping their way out of the rich dirt.

There was a garden in every backyard in Refuge, every one of ‘em planted at the Queen’s command. Part of her plan was making sure that eventually Monsters would be as self-sufficient as possible. Couldn’t depend on the Humies to keep them in clover forever and sure they had some tech deals getting hammered out, but if there was one truth all Monsters knew, it was that G wasn’t food.

True, it wasn’t a perfect plan; some of those mandatory gardens were pretty fucking sad, brown straggly plants that might cough up a tomato or two before they kacked it. This one, though, was pristine. Red didn’t care about growing shit that couldn’t be rolled up into a blunt and knew even less about it, but even he could see the way all the plants were evenly spaced and that there wasn’t a single weed growing anywhere. Not a stray piece of grass or a single thistle dared peek out of the soil in this garden.

A Monster was kneeling in one of the plots, dressed in overalls and a funny little straw hat, a wagon next to him heaped with tools and paper bags, a small pile weeds who ignored the warning signs.

Red didn’t actually know Blue real well. When Rus talked about Blue, it was always with a wealth of fondness in his soft voice, often whispering his memories in the darkness of their bedroom whenever insomnia haunted him.

Whatever sweetness Rus remember in Blue, it was long since eroded away, torn out of him, and whether it was being Chosen, his past Judgement, or Asgore who did it didn’t much matter to the outcome.

He was one of Sans’s early Chosen, back before Red even joined the guard and the few times he’d seen Blue were when he came to assemblies to watch the trainees before they were instated as full guards. Red remembered seeing him those days; dressed to the nines in his uniform, boots polished until a person could see their reflection in them from ten steps away, every crease straight, every button fastened. Seen him a few times from a distance, too, with Sans, always a nice, respectful two steps behind him and looking as if butter wouldn’t melt between his knees. Couldn’t even picture the bastard ever getting bent over a sofa getting fucked by a desperate Judge.

(Sans was more likely to flop back and take a fucking, way back when, all sly smiles and slick pussy, knees spread wide in invitation. Whatever becoming the Judge did to him must’ve given his preferences a good topsy-turvy, ‘cause gossip in the barracks warned all the guards to be prepared for spending plenty of time on their knees)

They’d talked a few more times since then and not a single one of those chats endeared Blue to Red any more than the first.

These days Blue was pretty fucking hard to look at. His skull looked like it’d been busted apart and put back together by hands that didn’t care if the puzzle pieces didn’t fit right, parts of the bone still discolored with char. The empty left sleeve of his shirt was pinned up neatly to his shoulder and the cane leaning against his little wagon wasn’t for show. He’d survived the coup, but not by much, the only one of Sans’s chosen who didn’t die along with him, and there was a memory that Red didn’t like to take out and play with too often.

His team came in far too late, after it was all over but the vacuuming. Breaking through the barred door and walking into the leftovers of a massacre, a mass Judging, no one who’d been in the throne room came out unscathed. Blue the only one still breathing right and Sans…yeah.

Probably a wonder Blue hadn’t offed himself yet.

All that aside, it was a shame that the stick in his pelvis didn’t get yanked out along with his arm. The eye light that lit his less damaged socket was blazing sharp, and he was struggling to his feet the second Red started walking across the yard, snatching up his cane and brandishing it like a sword.

“What are you doing out here?” Blue demanded loudly. He stormed out of his garden, tracking mud across the carefully shorn grass. “You should be with Rus, he needs to be protected!”

“well, hello to you, too,” Red drawled. He stuck his hands in his pockets carelessly, rocking on his heels. “kid is fine, edge is with him.”

Blue’s dismissive scoff raked across Red’s nerves like the tines of a fork on a cheese grater. “Oh, certainly, with Edge, that’s surely impenetrable protection! Edge wasn’t even a full guard when he was Chosen!”

"might be so, but edge is the one in charge these days. you think i want out there handling that shit?" Either Blue wasn’t keeping up with the times or he was just being a prick. Either was possible, but the fact of the matter was that in public, Edge was the boss. His word was law when it came to Rus and it had a lotta spillover onto Toriel. To insinuate that he wasn’t capable of protecting the Judge was an insult about the level of hocking a juicy loogie into Red’s face and if it was anyone else, Red wouldn’t be fussed about getting the dust out of his shoelaces before he headed home. Blue caught the barest hint of a break, for Rus, but he was already fucking pushing it. Still, Red kept his voice carelessly easy, “you sound kinda worried about your bro.”

Blue shed the glove on his remaining hand and pulled a tidy bandanna out of his back pocket, mopping at the sheen of sweat on his shattered skull. “I heard about the attack, of course. Everyone has.”

“yeah?” Red raised a brow bone, reluctantly interested. “hear any useful gossip about it?”

“If I had, you would already know about it,” Blue retorted. He sighed and gestured for Red to follow him, making his staggering way up to the back porch. It was surrounded by flowering bushes, heady perfume overwhelmingly filling the air while bees flee drunkenly from blossom to blossom. Sitting on a little patio table was a carafe of lemonade, lemon slices floating amongst the ice.

Blue poured two large glasses, pushing one over to Red. He took a long drink, the tartness blotting out the nauseatingly thick reek of the flowers.

Blue took a sip from his glass, ice cubes rattling, and he dabbed away the thin stream that ran out of his cracked jaw with the bandanna. “I don’t hear most of the gossip, I’m afraid, not anymore. I’m a failed guard, the neighbors don’t exactly stop by for visits and chats.”

“You didn’t fail at shit,” Red retorted sharply. Bullshit was all that was, all because Blue managed to not die.

Red wasn’t fond of Blue, but fuck, he’d had nine toes in the dustpan when they managed to tow him back into the land of the living. He’d fucking well tried and if anyone wanted to toss in their opinion on whether they thought Blue didn’t try hard enough, they were welcome to give Red’s fat one a good ol’ suck.

Blue only let out a humorless laugh. Once, his eye lights had been a starry yellow-blue, showcasing his traits. Patience and justice, pretty good draw for a Chosen companion to the Judge. The one eye light he still had was pale and colorless now, reminiscent of Rus’s, only Blue’s was dull, doughy-blank, showing none of Rus’s vibrancy. Hard to believe anymore that these two were even brothers.

Curious that Rus’s Choosing gave him a pair of brothers with a matching trait of Determination. Made a person wonder exactly why, but neither the Angel nor the Judge were telling.

The glass in Blue’s hand rattled against his trembling fingers, the bones still yellowed and scorched. “Tell that to Sans.”

“tell him yourself,” Red lowered his voice to a harsh whisper. The cunning little device in his pocket would’ve warned Red if there was any active listening devices around, but Red hadn’t survived as long as he had without harsh lessons in watching his mouth, “i told you before, i can get you up to our rooms, no one’d ever know.”

Blue’s mouth twisted disgustedly. The movement from his jaw pulled the gaping crack over his dead socket grotesquely wider as the first real emotion winking in and out of his eye light in a flash. "And I told you, there is a reason that former Chosen aren’t allowed near the new Judge,” Blue slammed down his glass, a wave of lemonade slopping over his damaged fingers. “There's no telling how he'd react if he saw me! If he recalled I was once Chosen, he might--ugh!” Blue hunched over with a shudder of revulsion, “It's bad enough that you and your brother are servicing him."

“you questioning the judge’s choice?” Red said coolly, just this side of waspish. He didn't really give a good shit what Blue thought of it, especially considering Red’s reasons for being here to begin with, but he did wonder what Blue would think if he knew Sans popped out for a recent visit. Whispered a coupla sweet nothings while he jammed Rus’s prick East bejesus up Red’s cunt. The memory made a slick of wetness form at Red’s crotch and he shoved the memory back. Not the time and he stuffed that little reminiscence back where the one of his brother’s cock in his mouth lived, the knowledge of how it felt, soft and slick with his own come and Rus’s, carefully tucked into the furthest corner of his mind.

That tart question struck the dartboard in a bullseye. Blue faltered like he’d been jabbed right in the tailbone, sputtering out, “No, of course not, but—" He recovered, straightening his spine and that cool soldier’s expression dropped over his face, the stick in his ass jammed straight. “That doesn’t matter. What matters is the damage it could cause my brother to see me, so you can stop asking, the answer is no, it’ll always be no.”

“whatever you say,” Red shrugged, ‘cause he didn’t care, not really. Except for how desperately Rus wanted to see his fucking brother, just once, one last time. The brother he’d missed out saying goodbye to between Blue’s unconsciousness and him being Chosen. Any other Judge at least got a chance to say fare thee well and the fact that Rus lost the opportunity was just one more bar in Rus’s prison, caged in, body and soul.

Blue’s answer was about what he’d expected though, and that was fine. Another useless attempt to get him to the Embassy wasn’t Red’s real reason for coming.

“not really here about you anyway, pipsqueak,” Red said, letting the words fall lightly. “i heard papyrus is staying here with you these days.”

That little tidbit of gossip came through the vine in the wee hours last night, Red checking his phone with Rus sleeping peacefully beside him, Edge on the far side. He’d spent the rest of the night lying awake, cold fury thrumming in his soul and that was the real reason Red came all the fucking way out here for a little face to face chat. “shacking up with sans’s little brother, huh, that sure must be something.”

Papyrus was only a kid when Sans was chosen as Judge, still in striped shirts and missing his two front teeth. Biggest difference between him and Edge was the Crown gave a stipend to the families of Chosen to make up for the loss of income. Papyrus probably never had a hungry day in his life and certainly not after Sans put on the robes. His bro never had to worry if the shit wage he was earning in the guard was gonna be enough to keep a roof over his kid brother’s head or keep him in clothes when he started growing like a weed. Sans didn’t have to set aside enough for a bribe to make sure that whatever G he made actually found its way to his brother and didn’t end up lining the pocket of some greedy deliveryman.

None of that was Papyrus’s fault and sucking on a silver teat didn’t make him miss his brother any less. Kid tried the join the guard a few times and always washed out, only got to try more than once because of who his brother was. Red wondered morbidly what Blue’s stuck up, sanctimonious ass would’ve thought if Papyrus had gotten into the guard and Sans Chose him.

Now it was looking like that stick in Blue’s ass didn’t keep him from inviting Papyrus between the sheets.

Whatever color was in Blue’s skull leached away, the bone dulling to chalky white, and taking with it any hope that Blue wasn’t using that kid as a dim replacement. His gaze skittered away, hunted, skipping around the yard, looking for fuck knew what. For Sans to step out of the void with shrieking admonishments, for a stray bolt of lightning to finally strike him down and send Blue after those who went before him. There was nothing, only Red standing here holding half a glass of decent lemonade in the sunshine so many died to get.

There was nowhere else for that look to go, no escape, and finally Blue reluctantly looked at Red again. He said, raw and stiffly, “There’s nothing against the code about that.”

“no, there ain’t,” Red agreed, softly. He only met Blue’s solitary eye light evenly. Red couldn’t see into Blue’s soul but he fucking well hoped Blue felt his sins crawling their leisurely way up his spine.

Red set his lemonade down carefully before he gave into the urge to toss it glass and all right into Blue’s broken face. He turned away and started back around the house, barely off the patio when Blue called his name.

“Red?” Blue struggled for words finally asked, plaintively. “Is he happy?”

Almost Red wanted to tell Blue that they kept Rus well fucked. That his little bro looked good stuffed with cock on both ends, that he sucked dick with the expertise of a thousand G whore.

But he wasn’t about to talk about Rus like that, not even to get one up on his shitheel brother. “i like to think so. he’s a real sweetheart.”

Red made no mention of the almost desperate adoration that rose up in his soul that came from only thinking about Rus. That wasn’t for sharing time.

“Yes,” Blue said. His hoarse voice was low, subdued, “he always was. take good care of him?”

Better than you could, Red did not say. “want me to give him a message or anything?”

Blue’s melancholy faded and he shook his head immediately, "Judges are forbidden from any contact by a former Chosen or family, and I’m both. You know this.” He sounded like he was reading straight from the guard manual.

If Rus hadn’t been Chosen, he’d be here right now taking care of his piece of shit brother. Standing back helplessly while Blue fucked the old Judge’s kid brother and pretended he was someone else, and Red was a selfish enough bastard to be glad he wasn’t. “you’re right, i do. so is there?”

Blue only lifted his chin and it was a damn good thing he wasn’t a Judge, because his single eye light was loaded with resentful judgement. “No. There’s nothing I could tell him that he wouldn’t already know.”

Yeah, just as well Rus was Chosen. Blue didn’t fucking deserve to have his brother here with him.

Wasn’t a fucking thing Red could do about Papyrus; he was out of stripes and kid was gonna have to make his own bad decisions and what was Red gonna do about it anyway? Take him back home like a stray puppy he found on the streets? Tell him that he didn’t have to settle for Sans’s leftovers, remind him that it wasn’t Sans’s idea to leave any of them? That he didn’t need to live here, the two of them burying themselves into a dusty tomb that Sans wasn’t even in.

He wondered what Papyrus was getting out of it. If he was closing his sockets and played his own version of pretend.

He wondered why he even cared. Why had he come out here to Refuge, really?

“tell paps i said hi,” Red said finally, “ain’t nothing against that in the code, either.”

“I will.”

Red turned on his heel and headed back to the car before he said something he wouldn’t regret, but would hurt Rus if he ever heard about it. He lit a cigarette before they’d even pulled away from the curb and by the time they got back to the Embassy, he’d smoked his way through the entire pack.

~~*~~

When Red got back to their quarters, he was too fucking tired for the early hour of the day and faintly nauseous from too much nicotine. He closed the door carefully behind him, resetting all the alarms. His joints ached like all his frustrations seeped out of his soul and settled into them.

In their living area, Rus and Edge were sitting on opposite sofas, playing some kind of stupid card game. Rus was choosing to stay home for a few days, barring a Judgement, and that was the only reason Red felt comfortable enough to leave the two of them alone, anyway.

Kid didn’t want to endanger anyone else, perfectly reasonable response to what happened, but they couldn’t hide away in here forever. Rus needed fresh air and sunshine. He needed his meditation gardens, not the weedy looking herbs Edge grew on the narrow windowsill for his cooking.

That meant Red needed to go over the intel his contacts were sending along. Search for reoccurring names, patterns, anything that’d lead him to the end of this snake so he could chop off the head.

Needed to, yeah, but it’d have to wait. Right now, his head wasn’t exactly in the game. He’d left too much of his mind behind in Refuge, turning that chat over and over, trying to find a chink, a solution that didn’t exist.

Probably better to get settled so he didn’t miss a trick, yeah, that was the ticket. All Red wanted right now was some manufactured forgetfulness and he wanted to get started making it right now.

“welcome back,” Rus called cheerily. He only glanced at Red, pale eye lights filled with warm greeting, before turning back to the cards in his hand with a little frown.

That gave Red a chance to discreetly run a mental inventory of his honey. Rus was looking good today. There was some color back into his bones, his pristine skull glossy with health. His magic was leveling out to its normal slower upward trickle. Hell, at a glance he was damn right perky, and that made it hard not to appreciate how fucking pretty he was. His long robes were discarded in favor of a pair of soft, loose pants and a t-shirt to match, bare feet tucked under his knees and a hint of his clavicles peeking tantalizingly over the neckline, begging for a mouth to give ‘em a taste.

Just seeing Rus like that leached some of the aching tension out of Red’s soul, trading it out for relief.

It was tempting to step up right then, but Red hung back, waiting for them to finish their game. When Rus wasn't giving Judgments, what he was mostly was bored. There was only so much meditating and bonding with the spirits or whatever the shit that anyone could do. Protecting the Judge was the focus of their job, the most important thing, but it wasn’t the only one. The other part of their bit was plain taking care of Rus and that included entertainment.

Sex might be an easy way to knock out two birds with one dick, but it couldn’t be the only thing.

Their living room was lined with shelves filled to the brim with books and blu-rays, video game consoles and board games, anything to help Rus pass the day and hopefully forget that the sunshine his brother nearly died to get for their people couldn’t really be his.

“What were you off doing anyway?” Rus asked absently. His attention was mostly on the game, sockets narrowed, and across from him, Edge only waited patiently, the slightest hint of a smirk curving his mouth. Rus didn’t seem too worried about Red taking a field trip, it did happen from time to time.

His brother was probably less than pleased that Red took off without a word as to where he was going other than a hastily scrawled note of ‘back soon’, but eh, Red could take that medicine when he had to.

There was a split-second choice to be made here, whether to tell Rus the truth of where he’d gone or not. With only a couple words, Red could make sure Rus never wanted to see his brother again…and taint every past memory he clung to in the process. Almost did it anyway; Red was an old hand at cleaning up all kinds of messes, he could handle one more. The only thing that held his tongue was thinking of Rus’s grief, the choking tears streaming down his pretty face, and his memory of his brother would end up just one more thing he’d lost.

Only this time it would be Red doing the taking.

Fuck it, if the Angel wanted Rus to know about it, She could do the dirty work.

“nothing important, darlin’,” Red said smoothly, and that was true enough.

Rus didn’t notice anything amiss, but Edge gave him a narrow, suspicious look. Eh, he’d catch his bro up on things soon enough. Now wasn’t the time. For once, Edge wasn’t buttoned from his clavicles to his toes in his uniform, instead dressed in soft pants and a sweatshirt that was a hair too tight, probably from Rus’s side of the closet. Probably meant they’d spent some cuddle time on the sofa before starting up on the game or at least Red hoped so. He might watch the cameras later. Just to make sure.

His wandering thoughts were coagulating, coming back together in his skull and Red was already wondering what kind of distraction he could come up with to tug their attention from the cards when he heard it. Faintly, the familiar, hollow sound of a constant buzzing against bone.

Well, now, this was getting interesting, now wasn’t it.

“care to fill me in on the rules to this game?” Red drawled. He leaned against the sofa arm and treated himself to a more in-depth perusal of them both. Nothing unusual leapt out at him, not yet.

“it’s pretty simple,” Rus said. His cards were fanned out messily in his slim hands, a disorderly array of suits. “whoever loses a round has to wear a vibrator in the next round. winner gets to put the vibrator wherever they want.”

Huh. Rus sounded a little more disgruntled than that called for. Kid was an ace at counting cards, it was a little surprising he’d even persuaded Edge to play. “sounds fun.”

“i thought so too,” Rus said, shooting Edge a sulky look. “only edge doesn’t even work up a sweat, no matter where i put it. i’ve tried it behind his sternum, his sacrum, pubic arch. i'm about ready to toss it into his eye socket and let it rattle around in his skull for a while, see if that shakes him up.”

Edge laid the queen of spades on top of the card pile and said placidly, “My apologies for my self-control being so boring.”

Boring, huh. Red looked his brother up and down calculatingly. The little details were there if a person knew how to look. Eye lights barely hazed, the slightest hitch to his too-even breathing. He was a little worked up, but Rus wasn't lying, he still looked like an ice cube wouldn't melt in his shorts.

Meanwhile, Rus was pouting unhappily, his pretty smile turned upside down, and that just couldn’t be allowed, now could it. An idea perked up in the back of Red’s mind, ripe with possibilities, and Rus would go for it no question. Whether Edge would was dependent on how happy he wanted to make Rus, which usually fell under ‘a lot’. The odds were good, and Red never shied from a good bet.

Red leaned in and settled a wandering hand on Rus’s knee, sliding lightly up his inner thigh and snagging his attention. "how about we play another kind of game, honey."

Rus immediately looked wary, but Red wasn't offended. Couldn't blame him; Rus'd played Red’s games before, good on him for taking the lesson to heart.

"what game?" Rus asked suspiciously.

"Doesn’t anyone want to know if I want to play a new game?" Edge asked no one in particular. They ignored him.

Red rose up on his toes and laid a soft kiss on Rus’s mouth, lingering a little too long over that sweetness before he reluctantly drew back. “lemme get changed first then we'll talk. you go on ahead and finish that round.”

He strolled off, whistling cheerfully. The day was already looking up.

In their shared bedroom Red stripped out of his uniform, carelessly dropping it to the floor for Edge to bitch over later. A pair of well-worn shorts and a t-shirt was a decent match to the wardrobe choices of two brats out there, and made for easier access and cleanup. Ready Freddy, except for one thing.

Red knelt down and dug out a small box hidden underneath their bed, grabbed a little something that might come in handy right soon. He tucked it into his pocket, shoving it deep enough not to arouse (heh) suspicions.

Edge was picking up the cards when Red came back out, tucking them back into the box. The previously unseen vibrator was sitting innocently on the coffee table as if Red couldn’t see the faint traces of crimson that’d been hastily wiped away.

Red crawled up on the sofa next to Rus and held out an arm, pretended that his soul didn’t give a solid throb as Rus immediately snuggled in against him happily. The kid rolled over on his back, his skull in Red’s lap, looking up at him with bright curiosity in those pale eye lights as he said, “c’mon, red, tell me!”

That pout was back and Red took a moment to lean down and quickly kiss it away, allowing only a brief flicker of their tongues together before he pulled back. He stroked the smooth bone of Rus’s forehead lightly, soothingly, “all right, honey love, here’s the game. you got five minutes to get edge to come, however you can. if you don’t get it done in the allotted time, i get five minutes to make him come. winner gets the prize.”

As he’d guessed, Rus’s eye lights immediately blew wide, briefly tinging golden in an abrupt surge of desire. It faded quick enough, Rus struggling to hold it back, but the cat was out of the bag now, wasn’t it.

Across the way, Edge barely stifled a sharp, startled sound, but if he had an opinion about Red’s little suggestion, he kept it to himself.

The rest of Red’s words seemed to have wormed their way past that first thoughtless rush and Rus was frowning again, “that's not fair. if i lose, he'll already be all worked up for you.”

Red leaned down and gave him a light kiss in reward for figuring that out. “ah, but see, difference is, i don't get to touch him. no bone on bone for me, sweetheart, i promise.”

Mollified, Rus settled back. “what do i get if i win?”

“you get to ask a favor of me, anything at all.”

Poor kid was gonna get whiplash the way he kept flipflopping from interest to disappointment. “i can already do that.”

“yeah, but you don’t.” Red pointed out, “you never do. this one you’d earn fair and square, might make it easier if you’re spending your own dime rather than the inheritance.”

Rus nodded slowly, understanding coupled with intrigue lighting his face, “and if you win?”

“same deal, i get to ask one thing from you. anything i want.” That win or lose Rus was gonna enjoy himself thoroughly was heavily implied.

“anything,” Rus murmured, rolling the word around in his mouth, giving it a good taste, but before he could decide if he liked the flavor, another bargainer stepped up to the table.

“I have a question,” Edge said, coolly. Red glanced at his brother meaningfully, met crimson eye lights that were a match his own. Edge was sitting on the opposite sofa, his arms crossed over his chest. The line of his jaw was tense, teeth gritted together, but that wasn’t distaste or reluctance on his face, not one fucking bit. He waited to see if his bro would beg off or outright refuse. They’d teeter-tottered around into a little touchy feely a long time ago, didn’t matter so long as it helped get Rus off. They'd been ramping it up lately, but this was a horse of a different color, deliberate red on red without a buffer of honeyed gold between them.

He was counting on his brother not to disappoint.

“what’s that, bro?” Red asked.

Edge’s crimson tongue flicked out over his teeth, an almost imperceptible hint at nervousness. "What do I get if neither of you get me to come?"

Oh yeah, that was his bro.

"ah, that’s easy,” Red said lightly, “favor is all yours, little brother. from both of us."

Red looked back down at Rus and he could about see the gears turning in his mind. He was a smart kid, even smarter when you took into account all the Judges in creation playing house in the back of his mind. He was trying to work out what kind of monkey's paw bullshit Red wove into the bargain, but looked like he wasn't finding anything cause all he said was, decisively, "deal.”

“Deal,” Edge agreed softly. He stood and turned on his heel, walking out. Came back only a minute later with a couple towels over one arm, fucking neat freak. He spread them out on the sofa then shed his clothes, folding each piece neatly as he stripped it off. Edge wasn’t anywhere near as pretty as Rus, his bones were thicker with none of the delicacy that was laced into their lover’s, pocked with scars from the years before he was in the guard and the training alike. Strong bone that could take a beating and had, bearing the marks of a survivor and warm pride flowed over Red like syrup, like the honey he so often named Rus.

Edge’s joints were already lit with mana, either from the earlier vibrator or the recent chat, and a cloud of it filled his pelvic cradle, a thunderstorm of brimming desire. He settled back on the sofa, long legs stretched out, and said, mockingly sweet, “Ready when you are.”

A hasty search found lube where it was thoughtful stowed under one of the cushions and Rus drizzled it over his slim hands, rubbing them together until the slender bones were glossy and slick. “summon your cock first, give me something to work with.”

Edge tutted in disappointment, shaking his head, “Asking for a concession already?”

“everyone knows you don’t start a game without setting up the pieces first,” Rus countered, waggling his slippery fingers teasingly.

“he’s got you there, bro,” Red chuckled, amusement mingled with a peculiar sort of relief. All the nastiness of the day was flowing away, dirty water down the drain, simply by being around these two sassy shits. “don’t you think he deserves a little head start?”

Nice to see that Red wasn’t the only one who weakened under a pair of wide, pleading eye lights. Edge softened like sweet butter left on the stovetop. The swirl of his magic solidified, his cock formed between his femurs, already heavy and hard, a formidable piece of equipment that Edge usually put to good use. Rus reached out with dripping hands, only waiting when Red called out.

“hold up.” Red pulled out his phone, setting the timer, “okay, rus…go!”

Red settled back into the throw pillows to watch the show, one hand slithering down the front of his shorts, hard phalanges idle against his pubic crest where his magic was settling humidly. Wasn’t any part of the bet against him coming and Red was all ready to hit the concession stand.

Rus didn’t waste any time, both hands already curled around Edge’s shaft, spreading the slippery lube until the scarlet ectoflesh was glistening wetly. The rhythmic sound was wickedly obscene, startlingly loud over Rus’s satisfied hum.

There was no reaction at all from Edge, his eye lights barely flickered as Rus stroked him. Even when Rus frowned determinedly, kneeling between Edge’s spread legs, tongue already eagerly extended. He lapped softly at the little jewel of scarlet fluid beading at the head of Edge’s cock before sucking the length of it down with a messy slurp.

“that’s it. little brother,” Red called, smirking as Edge only hissed out a breath, keeping stubbornly still, “don’t make it too easy for him.”

It was a helluva show, to put it mildly, worth it even if by some random chance Red lost the game. Rus was pulling out all the stops, using every dirty, wicked trick he’d been taught between them about giving head and a couple made up on the spot. The long, flexible length of his tongue wrapped around the shaft, a thumb and forefinger surrounding the base, following the tight rhythm of Rus’s head. Mouth sloppy wet, golden spit sliding down his chin and wetting his hand as Rus sucked Edge in deep, his formed throat bobbing as he swallowed, formed muscles massaging the hard length. His free hand wandered wherever it could reach, seeking out places he knew were sensitive. Rus had mapped out their bodies with those shy, nimble fingers of his too many times to count, committing their every twitch to memory, and now he was tweaking cartilage, fondling up the length of Edge’s spine, teasing at his floating ribs.

All the little details put together a fine picture; Rus’s ass in the air, his clothed pelvis wriggling enticingly as he worked. Muffled whimpers were spilling into the air from him around the cock filling his mouth, garbled pleading, and Edge sure as fuck wasn’t unaffected now.

Sweat decorated his skull like glittery sequins as Edge breathed hard through his nasal cavity, his tongue caught between his jagged teeth hard enough that a thin rill of crimson was spilling down his chin. His knees jerked slightly with each bob of Rus’s head, bones clattering softly. A raw groan escaped Edge, hinting at desperation at the exact moment the timer buzzed, shifting to a pained gasp as Rus pulled off with slow deliberation, giving the head a last teasing suck.

Rus sighed in mock disappointment, wiping at his mouth fruitlessly with the back of his hand and only succeeding in smearing the mingled gold and crimson fluids. “damn it, guess i lost.”

“guess you did,” Red slid down to the floor with less grace than he would’ve liked, knees wobbly and his own arousal settled heavily into his pelvis. “have a seat, honey, watch the master at work.”

Mischief flittered over Rus’s face, far too quick for anything but a warning. He caught hold of the front of Red’s shirt and yanked him in, forcing his sex-tainted tongue down Red’s throat. The taste was one he knew all too well, honey sweetness mellowed with spice, rich and addictive.

A last delicate swipe of his tongue and Rus sashayed away, snagging one of the pillows to curl around while he settled in for his turn to watch.

Red licked the back of his teeth, catching the last of that tang before it faded completely. Yeah, Rus was gonna pay for that.

Or maybe Red needed to thank him, because Edge was watching them hotly with a riveted gaze, a thread of crimson fluid leaking from the tip of his cock to stain the towel.

He didn’t quite flinch as Red crawled up on the cushions, keeping a careful distance from his brother’s bare bones. There was a certain fraught quality to Edge’s expression, a feral wildness like he might bolt away.

“close your sockets, bro,” Red told him, gently. Which mean of course that Edge did no such thing, contrary bastard.

“Why?” Edge said suspiciously. His gaze flicked down Red’s body helplessly to where his dick was pushing out the front of his shorts, then away, then back to Red’s face, the color blooming his cheekbones lovelier than any flower in Refuge.

Thoughts like that weren’t gonna help Red win the game and he shoved it aside, adding it to his growing collection of ‘ain’t thinking about it’.

“because i fucking told you to,” Red retorted, “that’s why. now play the game right.”

“I don’t recall following orders being in the rules,” Edge grumbled, but this time he did as he was told.

Red waited until he was sure those sockets were closed tight, not the faintest hint of crimson showing. Then he reached into his pocket for his special toy surprise.

This particular prize wasn't from their normal toybox since Rus didn't have a lot of interest in his cock. That might be changing, he'd give it a thought some other time. The toy was made of a gelatinous material was only slightly softer than ectoflesh, formed into a hollow sheath that was lined with small bumps and curving grooves designed stimulate, drag out every drop of pleasure possible, willingly or otherwise.

The expected cries of cheating didn’t come and Red flicked a glance at Rus to find him watching with wide, rapturous sockets, face flushed golden bright. One arm was wrapped so tightly around the pillow the fabric threatened to burst and his other hand pressed between his legs overtop his pants, fingers digging in helplessly as if he could stop his cunt from forming by sheer, physical will.

The audience was waiting, the timer was set. Time to get this game started. Red scooped up the depleted bottle of lube and squirted a dollop into the sheath and with one motion, deftly slid it down on his brother’s dick.

The reaction was gratifying. Edge’s hips lurched up wildly, his sockets flying open, hands curled into claws that very nearly latched onto Red’s skull before they abruptly diverted and clenched into the sofa cushions.

"You said no touching!" Edge hissed, crimson eye lights flashing as he trembled with outrage. His sharpened fingertips dug into the cushions, tearing through the fabric down to the memory foam.

“i ain't touching you a bit, baby brother,” Red crooned, and tightened his fist around the sheath, giving it a quick, vigorous stroke. Those bumps had to be digging in, massaging their way up and down with each rub.

Edge gasped wetly, squeezing his sockets shut, "Don't call me that!"

The other sofa creaked and Red slanted a glance at Rus who was halfway to his feet, reaching out weakly and conflicting emotions tangled across his face. “red, stop," Rus said, trembling but firm. "not if he doesn't want it."

Red only chuckled darkly, dragging his clenched fist down achingly slow, then up abruptly again, "oh, don’t you worry, honey, he wants it. don't you?"

Edge said nothing, his breath coming in harsh gasps as he struggled to keep his pelvis still while Red jerked him off through the thin barrier of the sheath. Looked like the trap might need a little more bait.

Red leaned in closer, careful not to so much as graze his brother’s strong, scarred bones, and whispered, low and harsh, "you remember the first time you fucked him? the way he was spread out under you, begging you to take him?”

This time his brother’s breath creaked out like the hinge of an old door as Red kept it up, murmuring breathily close to his auditory canal, “remember pushing your cock into that pretty virgin pussy? how it was already dripping with my come, how tight he was around your cock? kinda like this, yeah, remember him cryin' cause he needed it so much? how scared he was, showing us his soul? sweet thing all dripping wet, he needed it so bad, the mess he made, oh, that honey magic and silver, practically squirting over himself the second you touched his clit, remember that? you remember how he looked when he came?"

He kept up the relentless pace with every low word, letting the memory warm him. There was a certain charm to clumsy eagerness, inexperienced hands searching unknowingly for all the places that felt best. Not that Red missed it exactly, but he sure didn’t mind bringing that memory out to play with from time to time.

Edge was struggling, heaving, his eye lights narrowed to pinpricks as he stared blindly up at the ceiling.

Almost there, almost, and Red leaned in close enough for Edge to feel the heat of his breath, a bare whisper too low for Rus to possibly hear him, "member the first time he said he loved us?"

That did the trick. Edge let out a wretched sound like a sob, bones rattling as he came, filling the sheath to overflowing with his seed. Red could feel the surging heat of it through the thin plastic, smelled the rich spice even as the blare of the alarm came from his phone.

Game, set, match.

Red pulled off, tossing the dripping sheath to the coffee table to join the vibrator already there. Edge only lay weakly in his defeat, pelvis smeared with come, the rest of his bones dabbled with sweat. Red left him there to wallow in his filth, prowling over to Rus.

Who scrabbled back into the corner of the sofa, his sockets so wide it looked like his eye lights were gonna pop loose and fizzle out on the carpet. He fumbled for the phone gracelessly, somehow managing to turn off the warbling timer without dropping it on the floor even as Red raked a look over him. Taking in the heated glow of his joints, the honey-tint to his eye lights, the wet patch seeping through his pants, leaving a darkened stain that clung visibly to his pussy lips.

Yeah, Red had his number now. Looked like their honey had a lil' voyeurism kink going on. That was a new toy Red was looking forward to playing with, fuck yes. But for now, he had a problem of his own going on in his pants and Rus’s magic was crackling hotly in the air, searing lightning searching for the ground

"lay back, sugar," Red slipped off his shorts, briefly fisting his own cock, groaning at the feel of his own hard fingers.

Rus did it instantly, squirming as he worked his pants down his legs and kicked them off even as he asked doubtfully, "this is what you want as a favor?"

"nope, this is mine by right.” Red jerked Rus down until his pelvis was at the edge of the sofa, long legs dangling to the floor. He shuffled forward, lining his cock up with Rus’s eagerly clenching entrance, smearing his cock with golden wetness. “i'll let you know about the favor."

Then he shoved into that wet pussy, groaning at the soaking, tight heat around him as Rus’s wail filled the room.

So fucking gorgeous, watching Rus whimper and flail as Red fucked him. Pretty as Rus was on his knees, Red liked him better on his back. Liked watching that lovely face scrunch up every time Red fucked into him, honeyed tears welling up, streaming down the rounded curves of his cheekbones as that sassy mouth dropped open and his tongue curled behind his teeth.

In the down under, he got to watch his dick moving in the soft, golden magic that filled Rus's pelvis. His cunt was a slippery, plush delight, that first thrust inside always bordered on too tight until his walls loosened up a little, Rus whimpering out little cries as Red forced his cock in, past the rippling clench to fill him up.

And fuck him for how hot that was. Red knew Rus could take a fist all the way up to the elbow into his pussy, a cock wasn't no big thing, (heh), but the feel of it, fuck, like taking his virginity all over again. Red braced his heels against the coffee table and pumped harder, watched the length of his shaft slide in, pussy lips spreading wide around it, parting to give him a nice look at Rus's swollen clit. Red reached down to trace around it teasingly with a careful, sharp-tipped finger and Rus let out a frantic whine.

"you want somethin’, sweetheart?" Red panted out.

"i want to come!" Sweet desperation poured from him, fuck, talk about no stamina. Then again, Rus was like a little energizer bunny of orgasms, he could keep going and going, popping off one after another. Wasn’t no reason to hold him back now.

One hard drag of Red’s thumb over his clit and Rus was arching, his legs going tight around Red’s hips, holding him in deep as he convulsed. A fresh rush of wetness flooding his pussy, smoothing out the ride.

Rus sagged back against the cushions, hiccoughing soft little cries as Red kept it up. His own orgasm was swelling in him, tantalizingly close. Next to him, the sofa suddenly dipped with added weight and maybe Red couldn’t lean up high enough to give Rus’s pleading mouth a kiss, but that was fine, cause Edge was there to do it for him, his brother’s crimson tongue moving sinuously against Rus's golden one, fuck, yeah.

"come on down here, bro,” Red growled, flicking his thumb over Rus’s swollen clit again, “got something better for you to work with."

His brother shifted downward instantly, tilting his head in to lick at that sensitive nub. His crimson tongue was long, prehensile, dipping in between Rus’s femurs. Not his normal one, either, this one forked at the tip, all the better to work against Rus's clit, circling it from both sides, yeah, his fucking clever brother. Sometimes it wandered too low, one of the tips occasionally grazed against Red's cock, slyly pushing into Rus’s cunt and catching Red off-guard with a brief firework of sensation.

Red could taste his own sweat, sharp and faintly bitter, tried not to jerk as that tongue lashed against him again. He didn’t want Edge the same way he did Rus, he didn’t, but oh, you kid—

Fuck it, he couldn’t hold out anymore.

Red let go with a groan, pulling out to come in hot streaks over Rus's pelvis, and, oh, yeah, his bro's face. Edge flinched, closing his sockets and didn't stop, licking Rus through another orgasm even as a glossy spurt of come striped across his tongue, the fluid a shade of crimson darker than the ectoflesh.

With a deeply satisfied sigh, Red shuffled over enough to flop on the sofa even as Rus trembled and writhed through his shuddering ecstasy. He watched through narrowed sockets as Edge sat up, blinking too fast and his tremulous expression was loaded with conflicting signals. Almost, Red reached out, his sense still blurrily pleased, struck with the idea of rubbing his come in, smearing it across his brother’s scarred bones, marking him—

He reeled back, snorting aloud at his own stupidity. Yeah, yeah, his brother and no one else’s. He’d lived that schtick his whole life, no reason to complicate it now.

Looking at it sideways, the mess of his come was dripping down Edge’s skull in a way that made Red think hilariously of strawberry syrup on cheesecake.

Well, it could be a sweet treat for someone to eat, now couldn’t it.

"whoopsie, looks like i messed him up," Red drawled, elbowing Rus lightly. "you gonna clean him up, sugar skull?"

Rus stirred at the pet name, sockets fluttering open, then going wide as he took in the sights. He swallowed audibly, husking out, "yeah i can…i can do that if…if you want?"

Like Edge was even capable of turning that down. A short, sharp nod and Edge sat obediently still, let Rus lave at his face, greedily licking up the spatters while Red watched the crimson smearing the deeper gold of his tongue avidly. The sudden flood of fresh arousal was startling, almost unwelcome.

Almost.

The way he figured it, Edge would only stand that for so long before he hauled them all off to their massive shower. The three of them standing together beneath the generous spray, the water pouring down on them about two degrees lower than the temperature of lava, exactly how Rus liked it. The probability of blowjobs or fucking was high and so was the chance of a nap afterword, Rus snuggled up against him blissfully well-fucked, his brother on the other side. A preciously rare gift from the Angel to make up for the slagging shithole of Red’s life before.

He'd guarantee that Rus would mumble out a sleepy ‘I love you’ for them both before drifting off and right about then, Red wanted that more than anything in the fucking world. Those three words, Rus, and Edge.

His, all his in a way no one’d ever been his entire life. Not even Sans.

Red didn’t have a fucking clue what game they were playing anymore. Didn’t matter, either. All he knew was that the fates were sore losers and that he didn’t give a shit.

He was playing to win.

-fin

Next Chapter

#fontcest #keelywolfe #underfell papyrus #underfell sans #underswap papyrus #underswap #underfell #lemony goodness #papcest #spicyhoney #honeymustard #spicyhoneymustard #bodyguard au

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classicparadox · 4 years

Text

tully (2018) sentence starters.

Wanna count with me?

Just being your own best friend?

He doesn’t hate you.

You happy now?

He’s an out-of-the-box kid. He’s quirky.

No, don’t be. He’s a dick.

Before it’s as cold and black as my womb.

You should call me sometime.

No, mommy’s joking, honey. Like a clown.

God, really? ‘Cause I feel like an abandoned trash barge.

In the eighties there was this giant boat full of garbage that just drifted up and down the East Coast for weeks. They couldn’t figure out where to dump it. Eventually, they docked the boat in Brooklyn and burned all the trash.

My boss once bought me a cup of soup. I paid him back.

Lucky little bastards.

Ooh, is it money?

How does that work? Does this lady breast-feed? Jesus, there’s nothing you people won’t outsource.

That’s because she was only here at night! They come in and out like a ninja.

You didn’t hire one of those people for me, did you?

I love you, I don’t ever want to see you that way again.

I know you think this is some bougie thing that rich assholes do. And maybe it is. But remember, I wasn’t always a rich asshole.

I feel like these last couple of years… Someone just snuffed out a match.

You need to rest, mommy.

I get it. They’re big donors, they called in a favour.

Do I have a kid or a fucking ukulele?

Don’t fucking touch me, [name].

Oh, I leave like this every day; you just don’t know it. This is the real me, when I’m not licking your asshole. Surprise!

I’m here to take care of you.

Oh, I’m sorry. I wouldn’t want you to sustain a bruise to your ego. That’s cool. I’ll just cancel. I’ll just cancel and make another pot of coffee. We’re good.

I feel like I don’t know her at all yet.

And so to bed.

Maybe she’s nocturnal. Like an owl.

I want to make it abundantly clear that you can’t be self-conscious around me. This won’t work if you are.

I’m just not used to people doing things for me, that’s all.

Well, boats get hurt by barnacles. But whales don’t. When a barnacle latches onto a whale, it’s harmless. It’s just a little obligate parasite doing its thing.

That makes me nervous, because it doesn’t get better for girls, you know?

Right? It sounds like a Tom Cruise movie, except shitty and kind of sad.

You’re laying bedrock; they’re planting flowers.

Every morning I open my closet and think “Didn’t I just do this?” And that continues for the rest of the day. “Didn’t I just do this?” My life is like stuck on repeat mode.

That’s the downside of living on a planet with a short solar day. Although Jupiter’s even shorter.

You’re like a book of fun facts for unpopular fourth graders.

I can’t fix the parts without treating the whole.

It’s just the gaping hole where the chicken’s organs used to be.

You know they make sangria in prison toilets, right?

I know, they call it ‘pruno’.

Does [name] ever ask about me?

Oh, well why don’t you guys just talk about it?

But you love him.

I know I picked the right person.

So why don’t you guys have sex?

I don’t want my kids to grow up like I did.

What kind of… stuff is he into?

I checked his browser history once, it was pretty basic stuff.

It’s so normal, I thought it would be something really fucking sinister.

You have had zero kids.

Wait, is this a fifties diner? I wanna be period accurate.

I had a dream about a camel.

Um, she still has a father, doesn’t she?

Why are you so nice to me?

You trusted me with [name]’s life. That’s real, that means something.

I could murder you. Admit it, you’ve thought about it.

That is a fucked up thing to joke about!

Whoa, your molecules are everywhere.

No, I’m thirsty, not dirty.

Nobody wants to fuck mommy, okay?

Let’s say you were to take a wooden ship and replace one plank every year. Eventually, the ship would be made up of entirely new planks and there would be nothing left of the original ship. So is it still the same ship? Or a new ship?

Nothing is the same. It’s a new ship, baby. Nouveau bateau.

Then what about people? When you look at your baby pictures, clearly you’re unrecognizable compared to now. But it’s you.

If every part of me has regenerated then I guess I’m not me anymore.

God, I loved her. I was really in love with her.

I just need you to stay a little bit longer, you know? I need your help. Please.

I was just here to bridge a gap. It’s time for me to move on.

So what do you have lined up? I bet you have big plans. Your twenties are great. But then your thirties come around the corner like a garbage truck at 5 a.m. Yeah. You gotta think long-term. What are you going to do when that cute little ass drops and your feet grow half a size with each pregnancy, and the whole “free spirit” thing stops being charming and starts looking ugly?

I’m not afraid of the future.

You know what your problem is? You’re convinced you’re a failure, but you actually made your biggest dream come true.

I know how bad your childhood was. So now you’re giving your kids what you never had.

Yes, you are boring. Your marriage is boring, your house is boring, and that’s incredible. That’s the big dream you had when you were young. To grow up and be dull and constant and raise your kids in that circle of safety. You made it happen. You are a steady and elegant mother. Day after day. Night after night.

I’m not safe, I’m scared!

She won’t be the same tomorrow.

One second, we’re performing a miracle!

All we do is converse. We’re like the people in a Spanish textbook. Mario and Julio, they never shut up.

Look. You’re going to be in a soft bed in your little house before you know it. Under the same roof with your three babies, cozy and crowded. That old carpeting in your bedroom. World’s weakest shower. Home.

Obviously we can’t keep seeing each other.

If I’m older, why are you so much wiser?

I started learning Italian, do I forget that?

Thank you for keeping me alive.

You didn’t do anything.

I just want you to be okay.

I love us.

#rp meme #rp sentence meme #sentence meme #sentence starters #i didn't proof read this <3

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jojos-stardew-adventure · 5 years

Text

stars and stardrops

Chapter 1: Moving In

next chapter>>

This is a stardew x jjba self-insert fic where Farmer moves into Pelican Town.

----------

The land rolled by, as you looked out the window of the bus. Over the span of a couple hours, the scenery slowly began to lose its abundance of man made structures until nature seemed to take over.

Your nerves were a bit strung, and you already tried to take a nap to help ease them but closing your eyes would only cause you to become more restless.

You were making a big change to your life. A huge one. The dull and drab life of an office worker was just not tolerable for you anymore.

You wanted to escape, get closer to nature and your late grandfather's farm seemed like the perfect opportunity. You hadn't been to his farm since you were a child and could barely remember it.

The one thing you could recall was visiting him when he was sick and the letter he gave you. He told you not to read it until a hard point in your life. At the time, you weren't sure what that meant but you agreed. And for years you kept the letter with you and hadn't read it until one day when work was making you feel especially shitty:

If you're reading this, you must be in dire need of a change. The same thing happened to me, long ago. I'd lost sight of what mattered most in life... real connections with other people and nature. So I dropped everything and moved to the place I truly belong.

When you were deciding if you wanted to really move out of the city, Speedwagon, the mayor of town your grandfather's farm resided, assured you that he would be happy to have you there and would prepare everything to make moving in as smooth as possible. After a bit more consideration, you decided to quit your job and now you were on your way to your grandpa's unused farm.

You straightened up as a sign that stated 'Welcome to Pelican Town' comes into view. After a few more minutes, the bus slows down before coming to a stop.

You grabbed your small suitcase containing the few items you hadn't sold and exited the bus to find Mayor Speedwagon waiting along with someone else. You don't have a super clear memory of Speedwagon but he definitely looked older.

"Y/n, welcome. You've grown so much! How are you?"

You smiled slightly. "A bit nervous to be honest."

"I know you'll do well here. Your grandfather would have complete trust in you taking over the farm."

"At this point anyone taking care of that rundown place would be great!", a somewhat rough voice chimed in.

You turn your attention towards the man who was standing next to Speedwagon.

Speedwagon introduced him. "This is Okuyasu Nijimura. He takes care of the town's finances. He insisted on coming along to welcome you."

You smile and reach out to shake his hand.

"Nice to meet you! You're definitely not what I was expecting." Albeit that previous statement, Okuyasu seemed quite friendly. Maybe he just tended to speak his mind freely.

"Yea, I've never really farmed in my life! Unless taking care of potted plants count."

Speedwagon checks the watch on his wrist. "Should we head over to your farm then?"

Your farm…

It was a bit hard to believe that you owned a whole farm now.

As you all walk towards your gramp's--your farm, Speedwagon hands you a map. "This will help you get around at first."

You mainly relied on GPS to get around back in the city. You hoped you were good with maps.

You could see the farmhouse in the distance and a feeling of nostalgia washed over you. The house looked quite worn out though.

When you reached the end of the path to the farm, what you saw wasn't what you were expecting.

Everything looked extremely overgrown.

Okayasu whistled. "Wow, I think it's even worse than the last time I came over here."

"I know it looks really messy but it just needs some work,'' Speedwagon assured you.

But this looked like a lot of work for one person.

Okuyasu grabbed his chin as if he were thinking deeply. "You know, if you need the help, I'll be glad to provide you with any upgrades you need around here! I'll even give you a discount on the first one!"

The man walked up to you before pointing to a building on the map you were holding. "You can visit me here if you're interested."

You smiled at him. "Uh, thanks."

"Okay! Well, I gotta head out. See you around Farmer!" Okuyasu waved before heading back down the path.

Speedwagon sighed at the man. "Well Farmer, you're now officially a resident of Pelican Town! I'll leave you to get settled in. If you need me, I'm usually available in my home during the evening. It's the biggest house on the map. You can come to me for anything." The older man tips his hat before walking back down the path you had come from.

You looked around at all the overgrown grass and trees trying to reclaim the farmland.

Oh boy...

------

next chapter>>

#im planning on making more later on so lets see what happens #jjba #jojo's bizarre adventure #jojo no kimyou na bouken #stardew valley #stardew x jjba #okuyasu nijimura #speedwagon #robert eo speedwagon #robert e.o. speedwagon #fic #my writing #there will be romance with some townfolk if farmer wants that #self-insert #x reader

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dashielldeveron · 5 years

Text

Viper III: Pactum de non Cedendo.

Viper AU: a Mob!Tom Holland AU in which you are a political author, Tom’s personal lawyer, and eventually his consigliere.

Warnings: violence, swears, the law, gore, violence, murder.

Summary: You’ve heard not to cross the streams. Too late. You wish your life could go continuously uphill for, like, two minutes.

All evidence of humanity has been erased. Thus, all identifying vocal quirks, filler words, and dialogue not imperative to belaying information have been elided.

…

Viper: Let’s say I’m involved with…underground justice.

Epiales: A vigilante?

Viper: No. What I personally do is not technically illegal. I am the law, direct and simple, free of corruption to the best of my abilities. You may recall my work in the Laurens case?

Epiales: I made the connection. Clever thinking on your part.

Viper: Your compliments have gravitas. Thank you very much.

Epiales: How are you involved in Hernandez’s murder?

Viper: I met the man once several months ago, and now, Hernandez’s murderer is intrigued by my involvement. Our connection is feeble: he signed a document concerning a donation in my presence.

Epiales: Are you at liberty to say what the donation was for?

Viper: It’s nothing noteworthy. Ultimately, it went to keeping our headquarters intact.

Epiales: What concerns do you have about this case proceeding from this point?

Viper: Obviously the plans of this murderer. I have reason to suspect that certain crimes that have come my way are all by this same person. I believe a pattern will emerge and that the culprit will make a mistake.

Epiales: And this is the person that’s threatened you to release pictures?

Viper: I want to assume, but it’s a complicated situation. He’s made me realise I can’t afford to hide in the shadows any more, and moreover, I don’t need to. I know what I’ve gotten into, and I’m not afraid. When this guy makes his next move, let him know that my walls are fortified.

Epiales: A woman like you can’t afford to be caught off guard.

Viper: That’s true. It’s a jungle out there.

Epiales: Tell me how being a woman affects your status in your work.

The article went on, and Tom let out a low whistle and turned from the laptop. He opened his mouth to speak, but it morphed into a smile as he shook his head. “Oh, this,” he said, spinning his chair to look up at you, “This is beautiful.”

Releasing your grip on the back of his chair when he spun, you flexed your fingers before making a fist and holding it behind your back. “You think so?”

“I know so,” he said, “How the fuck did you manage an interview with Epiales? No one can find him.”

Well, when you’re interviewing yourself, you can do it in bed, with your cat on your feet and reruns playing in the background. You made your Epiales self have a slightly more formal voice than your Viper voice, although you made both of yourselves look good. And it was all too easy. “It was more of a stroke of luck than anything,” you said, “About a week ago, I received a burner phone in the mail. No return address. Nothing was on the phone except for one phone number, and it was labelled nightmare.”

Tom closed the laptop and slipped it into the sleeve. “And he just picked up?”

“Not exactly.” You started sweeping papers into folders and putting them through the three-prongs. “It was text-to-speech. I never heard Epiales’s voice. It was a slow interview, but it was fascinating.”

“How much did you reveal about the mob?”

“Just what you saw. The mob is never mentioned. There’s a suggestion that I work for someone, but I’m cautiously vague about it.”

“You’d better not have slipped up.”

“I was careful, I swear.”

Tom stood, stretched, and cricked his back, and you heard the pop. He relaxed, his shoulders slumping before shaking himself and rolling them back. More pops. “I’ll trust you for now. Whatever the case, this… We couldn’t’ve chosen a better way to take away the power from the photographer. By releasing your information ourselves, his giving it to his client means nothing.” He sighed and accepted the files you handed him. “I’m headed over to Hernandez’s house now. The capos are reporting Isadora’s getting restless and is trying to get friendly with some of them. The less she knows, the better.”

You scratched out the label on a file and scribbled in a new one. “It shouldn’t take nine men to guard the kid.”

“She’s trying to leave the house. Keeps talking about practising for a tennis tournament coming up.” He slid the folders into a desk drawer, took out a small key, and locked it.

“She’s got to be tired of being cooped up, and her dad was just murdered. Give her a break, Holland,” you said, shoving the files in your rucksack and zipping it up.

Tom shot you a look and grabbed his suit jacket off the back of his chair. “Well, maybe you can come check out the setup tomorrow. To be honest,” he said, slipping an arm in a sleeve, “it’s not as great as I’d like it. Harry and Sam couldn’t come into the city to monitor her because of their stupid fucking plant-geneticist-slash-bioprocessing-engineer calling them upstate. I fucking loathe that they’re involved with that shit. Useless.” He pulled his jacket on fully and began to button it from the bottom. “Imagine saying no to me.”

A montage of scenarios flashed across your brain, mostly involving being tied to a bed. “I’d rather not.” Slinging your bag over your shoulder, you said, “Is that why you don’t want me to meet them?”

Tom tilted his head and sucked in through his teeth. “The less you know about my family, the better.”

“Understandable.” You did not understand. You watched this guy murder people on a regular basis, so what could be so bad about his family? “All right. I’m ready. Let’s go see Isadora.”

“What? No,” said Tom, frowning, “You’ve stayed way past overtime tonight. Go on home.”

“So have you.” You checked your phone and slid it back into its pouch on your belt. “It’s two in the morning. Let’s go. Quick check. In and out.”

“Viper,” he said softly, raising his eyebrows, “You need rest. Go home. Come with me to Hernandez’s house tomorrow.”

Sighing, you rubbed at your hairline. Currently, you were motivated almost equally by thirst for justice and thirst for Tom, and usually, when Tom outweighed the justice, it was time to quit. Fuck. “So long as you get some sleep soon, too.”

***

“Yeah, Ms. Pham. I’ve been in contact with the national park. They should be sending someone along with the diamond soon.” Hastily taking your feet off your desk, you held up a finger to Haz, who slammed the door to your shitty office. “Still a bit of processing to do, but soon. Yes, ma’am. The next time I can be at the museum is on Thursday morning. Do you want me to come to your house before then? Right.” You scribbled down the details on your legal pad. “Biscotti. Got it. Thank you. Goodbye. No, it’s taken care of. Bye.” You hung up and tossed your phone next to your potted cactus. “What brings you to Siberia, Mr. Osterfield?”

“Cut the jokes. Come downstairs, now. There’s a car waiting.” Harrison beckoned for you to follow him and left before you could even stand.

“What’s going on?” you asked, slightly out of breath when you caught up to him, holding the doors to the elevator open.

“We’ve got to get to Hernandez’s before the police,” said Harrison, jamming the elevator button repeatedly, “There was a distress call, and it’s been silenced.”

***

At your recommendation, Haz passed around the bag of latex gloves before all of you entered the Hernandez house. Haz, Tom, Maccabruno, and you stood cramped together on the step to the back door as you worked the rubber up your fingers and smoothed it out. Macca meticulously took note of the surroundings, ensuring no one saw the four strangers on the back step of a recently murdered politician, and as Haz and Tom drew their guns, you dug out your evidence notebook.

You were garnering a lot of notebooks.

Maccabruno picked the lock and eased the door open; you winced at the creak of the door hinge in the silence. Tom crept in first with Harrison closely behind. Catching your eye, Macca jerked his head in Harrison’s direction, meaning for you to stay behind in case an active threat lingered. Nodding once, you followed Haz and Tom through cosily cluttered, yellow hallways and a spacious kitchen straight out of a 90s catalog, but the kitchen tile turning into living room carpet had Tom holding out his arm to stop before you could see it.

Tom tilted his head to listen, and after a moment, the house settled. He relaxed his arm and moved forward.

You rounded the doorframe, busy opening your notebook, and when you looked up, you stopped in your tracks, your heels sinking into the carpet.

Tom, Haz, and Macca spread across the blood drenched carpet. Their shoes squelched with each step. Fucking every surface had some blood; it was drizzling off the coffee table, seeping into the couch cushions, running down walls—how did it get on the ceiling? There was fucking blood dripping from the ceiling; oh, my God.

You bit the inside of your thumb, tasted the latex, and promptly lowered your hand. Haz was already getting blood sample and saying, “Did a blood bank fucking explode in here?”

“It’s better than turning someone inside out,” said Tom, and he crossed his arms, his gun poking out from underneath his bicep.

Get over it. Pull yourself together. You have work to do. “Where the fuck is Isadora?” Her portrait above the fireplace had been splattered.

“Right. Harrison, go check upstairs for her. I don’t think we’ll find her down here,” said Tom, taking the blood samples and beckoning with a finger for you.

“Yeah, sure,” you said, and you, not wanting to walk the wet path they had taken, began to round the couch—at which point you covered your mouth with your hand, and—latex, you really should stop touching your face at a crime scene—there lay the bodies of the men stationed to look after Isadora Hernandez.

Tom and Maccabruno jogged over, both of them on the other side of the neat line of corpses, all arranged with their arms crossed over their chests—two who had been wearing hats had them over their faces.

“Okay, something’s fucky,” you said, “Their clothes are fucking immaculate.”

“Macca, check out the hats. Viper,” said Tom, nodding at you, and he crouched to flip the body closest to him over. He ran two gloved fingers over the shoulder blade. “This looks like blood from the carpet. I can’t see any wound, can you?”

Maccabruno shook his head, his hand grasping the first hat like a claw, revealing an unharmed face, like the rest.

On your end, you bent to look at the capo. He was young. Callow, even. What was he doing in the mob? You checked out his hands—oh, no callouses, square-trimmed fingernails, long palms and fingers, right hand muscles more developed than the left—usually an office boy. Maybe he’s one of the accountants for Osseous on floor ten—oh, fuck, he was. You glanced at the rest of the men—they were field capos; maybe this kid was here for logistics. You didn’t know.

And that struck you. Why didn’t you know? You could’ve kept him from being here. He might be at home and content if you had stepped in.

“I don’t think this blood is theirs,” Tom said, turning the body back over, “There are splatters that look too precise. There’s too fucking much of it.”

“Harrison may have been right about the blood bank,” said Maccabruno, returning the hats to their faces.

Moving up to the kid’s face, you frowned. A peaceful, blank expression in death. Head tilted back slightly. Bad eyebrows—no, stop that. His nose was crooked, but that wasn’t from this; this was ol—you scanned his jawline. Lots of tension there. Like it had…been forcefully clamped shut.

“I want you to check local blood banks when we get out of here,” Tom said, standing, “See if anyone’s taken out a surplus at once or over a few months.” He swivelled around. “Seems like it’s all the same age and hasn’t darkened much.”

“Probably well refrigerated then,” Macca was saying as he jotted down instructions.

You squeezed his lips to pucker them, loosening his jaw enough for you to pry it open. “Holland,” you said, “I have something.”

Tom’s eyes widened, and he rushed to stoop next to you once you pulled a strange, dead grass out of the kid’s mouth. “What is that?”

“No idea,” you said, looking to Harrison as he came downstairs.

“Haz, we need a sample bag,” Tom said, and he shifted to the next body in line and forced its mouth open. He raised his eyebrows at you when he retrieved the same grass.

Harrison gave you a sample container and joined you in popping open mouths, all of which had the plant inside. You got a few strands from each of them, and as you packed away the bags, you said, “Holland, remind me how many men you sent down here?”

“Nine,” he said, crossing his arms and leaning back onto his haunches next to you, and then he got it and grimaced. “We’re never mentioning again how long it took me to notice that there were eight bodies.”

Haz dragged Macca out of the room to look for the ninth before Tom could even issue the order. Gun drawn, Tom move to stand over you in case, his legs so close to your shoulders that you could grasp at a touch of body heat coming from him. Your tongue grew heavy in your mouth.

Would it be so bad to ask him to hang out?

Yes, oh, my God. You can’t ask a mob boss to hang out.

Regardless, theoretically, it wasn’t ideal to date someone in the workplace, especially one’s supervisor, particularly when that individual could have your teeth ripped out if you dump him—but who would dump him?

Besides the workplace rule, there are a couple of things wrong with the possibility of being romantically involved. 1) Tom Holland has a stick up his ass. 2) He’s never shown any potential romantic interest in anyone, to the best of your knowledge. 3) The mob persona you’ve assumed also has a stick up her ass, so 3a) you probably were not the most attractive person in his life, 3b) assuming he felt emotions of the mushy sort.

Wait! Holy fuck! It’s been so long that it’s slipped your mind; when he first met you, he was, like, aggressively flirtatious. But so were you. That wasn’t how you’ve been presenting yourself since, but that flash, the hint of how chill you really were (you were so chill; you swore. You were the chillest person ever to exist. Ice. Cold.) could have lingered in the forefront of Tom’s consciousness.

If you could concentrate, you might save a life. Focus.

The corner of the kid’s high collar that poked out of under his coat, and you pulled on it, peeling it from his skin with a bloodstain soaked into it. You pushed his chin to the side so that you could get a better look.

“Holland,” you said, looking up at him, and you were startled for a moment by his dark eyes, how he was giving you all of his attention. You cleared your throat. “I unearthed a wound on his neck, but it’s not enough to have killed him. Cut by a thin blade. Shaped like a backwards L.”

You and Tom followed the procedure for the rest and discovered they had similar cuts in different shapes—this one three sides of a square, another a capital gamma, another still a proper L. You were writing them down hastily when Harrison dragged a terrified capo into the living room, this one bloodstained.

“He says the attacker locked him in a closet and posed as him for a few hours,” Maccabruno was saying, typing on his phone in the doorframe.

The capo looked at Haz and back at you and Tom. “I—I think he chose me because of how I was able to talk to Isadora. We’re about the same age, so.”

“Did you hear him speak?” Tom asked.

“No,” he said, “and I didn’t hear any of—” He caught sight of the line of bodies, and he bit the inside of his wrist. “Shit. You’re not gonna put me to the gallows, are you?”

“Absolutely not,” said Tom, “You did nothing wrong.” He slid his gun into his holster and rested his fists on his hips. “We’re gonna take you to the nearest safe house and get you patched up. Then you’re taking a while off. You’re not in trouble,” said Tom, and he stepped closer to the sweaty man (he qualified as a man, you supposed, but he was still younger than you) and put a hand on his shoulder. “It’s to keep you safe. If you can get out of the city for a while, that’d be even better.”

“You’re the only witness to whoever this murderer is,” said Harrison, “so you’re a mark.”

“Now, I know you’re shaken,” said Tom, nodding to Haz and guiding the capo out of the room, “but I’m gonna need you to report everything you can recall about what’s happened.”

The Hollands had a safe house not too many blocks away, and the hostess welcomed you in furtively, giving you something to drink before joining Harrison in sanitising the capo’s wounds in the spare bedroom.

You sat on the kitchen counter with glazed eyes as you drank your capri-sun. Macca and Tom sat across from each other at a table, the former looking into blood banks on his phone and the latter lost in thought.

Numb.

The blood room was enough for today. For the week. You wanted to go home. Sighing, you kicked off you heels, let them clack to the floor, and opened your notebook. The sooner you made progress on this incident, the sooner you could go home.

Tom snapped out of it at your movement and drew his hand away form his mouth. After rolling up his sleeves, he leaned against the counter and watched you try to decipher the symbols cut into their necks. The gentle rise and fall of his chest meant he was mostly calm, at least. He’s seen worse.

Haz and the owner of the house eventually came back in, saying the kid was clean and sleeping, and she began to cook dinner, Harrison cutting up vegetables for her. Tom shifted closer to you to get out of their way, but he wouldn’t touch you, not even grazing your sleeve. Why wouldn’t he touch you?

Plus, it was impossible to focus on these symbols, anyway. They weren’t letters or anything, just four right angles in different directions and four squares missing a different side each. Feeling stupid under Tom’s close scrutiny, you drew them in order of what direction they were facing and then tried to arrange them in a flower, because, you know. It looked like you were doing something, and you were braindead.

“Hey, that’s a hashtag,” Tom said, pointing at the flower.

“Yes,” you said, noticing it for the first time, “I tried, I guess. There are only so many shapes you can make out of eight partial squares.”

Tom nodded, running his tongue over his lower lip and staring at the paper. Furrowing his brow, he snapped his head towards you. “Nine.”

“Eight,” you said.

“Nine.” He traced the square made by the centre of the hashtag.

“But that,” you said, “Fuck.” You jumped off the counter and ran with Tom down the hallway, through the guest bathroom and into the bedroom, bursting through the door.

Harrison and Maccabruno rushed in in time to see Tom turn away from the bed and cover his eyes with his palm and you set your jaw and shut your eyes tight.

The window stood open, curtains wafting in the evening breeze, and the capo’s head lay at the foot of the bed, its eyes still open and a square carved into its throat.

You blinked and felt a lump grow in your own throat. “There’s…there’s something in his mouth.”

Tom got there before you did and pulled out a crumpled note.

T.H. and V. alone to retrieve Isadora at the M.A.S. warehouse tonight 0100 hrs. $250,000.

It was the same handwriting as on the back of the photograph, and you had never been gladder to see that little V instead of your real initials.

***

You took a swig out of your flask—cold hot chocolate, a marshmallow mess from being shaken all day.

“I don’t want you to come in tomorrow,” said Tom from the driver’s seat, “What you’ve seen today is too much for one day. You probably should rest your brain.”

You swallowed thickly. “You worried about what content I consume, Holland? I’m gonna come in even harder tomorrow.” The innuendo struck you, and you fastened your flask back into its clasp.

“I mean it,” said Tom, putting the car into park outside the unkempt warehouse. He turned off the brights and shifted his torso towards you. “If you don’t get some sleep soon, you’re gonna make yourself sick.”

“Pot calling the kettle black,” you said. You buttoned your blazer underneath the seatbelt. “I’m not gonna break until you do.”

Tom shut his eyes tightly, wincing. “It’s not about breaking or showing weakness.”

“You’re goddamn right.” You unbuckled your seatbelt, and then you reached over to unbuckle Tom’s. He had a moment of incredulity but let his arm slip through it. “What do you have to do at work that you don’t want me there for?”

Tom looked at his lap, pinched the crease in his trouser pants, and rested a tight fist on his knee. “I’ve got an old friend coming in… She and Haz are working on something for me.”

“Are you expecting me to feel threatened by another woman? What kind of freak do you take me for?” Your head snapped towards the warehouse’s second storey, where a light had appeared. “The air’s too thick with testosterone where we work. I’m grateful for any sort of empathy for that. What’s her name? Then we’d better get going.”

“Zendaya,” said Tom, twisting himself to reach the ransom suitcase in the back seat, “I’m sending her out into the city with Harrison to look for any parts of this case that we might be missing.” He unlocked the car door and opened it. “We might only be getting the bigger events,” he said to you over the roof of the car.

“Makes sense,” you said, shutting the passenger door, “Anyone else I should know about?”

“My mate Jacob is coming to look for similarities between this case and past ones. See if this guy’s had any practise before executing this one.”

“Poor choice of verb,” you said, noting his widening gait as he rounded the car to you, “You ready?”

He leant in closer and spoke quietly, his eyes lowering to your hips. “Can you draw your knife easily?” His dark eyelashes fluttered against his cheeks.

After a beat, you said that you could. That idiot needed to stop looking at you before doing public shit. You’re gonna get distracted by thinking about his fuckin’ eyelashes. They’re so long, you know? You were a little (read: a lottle) envious. And they weren’t exactly the colour of his hair; they were smoky and more than a little delicate—hello. You have work to do.

Tom’s grip on the suitcase handle tightened until his knuckles whitened when you entered the middle clearing of the warehouse, and the light on the second storey had been turned off. Startled, you jolted closer to him, your blazer cuff brushing against his sleeve. The thirty following seconds in the utter darkness slowed to a stop when Tom moved his hand, just barely, to tap his knuckle against the back of your hand, a sharp spark of reassurance that had you inhaling harshly when he dragged his knuckle up a few inches to your wrist. At that, he withdrew, and a light overhead flickered on.

Underneath it Isadora Hernandez was gagged and in the grip of a bulkily armoured, wholly masked figure holding a gun to her ear.

“If you are not alone, you will not leave alive,” said the kidnapper. He spoke through a heavily altered vocoder, leaving his voice stentorian and robotic.

“It’s just the two of us,” said Tom, his voice even but careful stare unyielding, “What do you want?”

He changed his grip on Isadora, his bullet-proof armour shifting noisily but not enough to reveal any skin. This man was a completely unidentifiable ghost. “What do you want, Tom Holland?”

“I want you to return Isadora Hernandez to me unharmed.”

“What do you want, Tom?” He pressed the barrel farther into Isadora’s ear. “You’re here because it’s the right thing to do. You don’t actually care about this girl and whether or not she lives. Dozens of people under your jurisdiction suffer and die every day, whether it’s deserved or not.”

“Just so,” said Tom.

Get to the point. Isadora wants this all to be over, and so did you. Pick it up, fellows. You supposed this was what happened when you loosened egos unmitigated.

“You want confirmation of crime? Fine. I’m the one you should get credit to for your main investigation right now. The senator, the photographs. Beheading your men. It’s just me serving up justice, my dude.” He tilted his covered head and yanked Isadora’s hair, tilting her head in the same way. “And Viper, my dear, you’re in for it. You are no longer safe. I’m tracking you down, and I’m gonna treat you to everything you want.”

“How kind,” you said with no emotion, “The first thing I want is Isadora, unharmed.”

“Suitcase first,” he said, putting his finger on the trigger.

With his other hand raised, Tom bent to slide the suitcase across the floor. It fell short of the kidnapper by about eight feet. Silence. How embarrassing. Does Tom go up and kick it towards him, or does the kidnapper walk towards it?

Tonight, option two is chosen. The kidnapper put his boot on the top of the suitcase before prying it open to check its contents. It clicked shut when he kicked it behind him, and he released his grip around Isadora’s neck, his handprint fading back to her natural skin colour.

“All right, then, Isabella.” He took the barrel out of her ear and aimed it at you and Tom. “You skedaddle towards them, got it? Nice and slow, now.”

Isadora, gagged with her hands tied behind her back, trembled in the first few steps towards you. She looked over her shoulder towards her kidnapper, who gestured with the gun for her to go on. You held your breath next to a stock-still Tom, slightly hunched and stance wide, weight on the balls of his feet—you frowned; he was waiting for something to go wrong.

But the kidnapper lowered his gun and told Isadora to go, and she’s crying as she runs to you, crying as he raised his gun again and shot her in the back of her head.

He bolted out of the back door as Isadora bled out onto the concrete floor in rivulets. You rushed to kneel at her side and stood again when you stepped in blood. You tried to garner any reaction from her, but her eyes had turned glassy and her chest had stilled.

You stooped to close her eyes as Tom barked instructions to mobilise—apparently you hadn’t come alone; capos waited outside and now were in pursuit; why didn’t he tell you? Either way. You ripped your knife from your belt and moved to run after the kidnapper, but Tom caught you by the waist before you could take more than two steps.

“Oh, no, you don’t,” he said with a growl, his cold hands too tight on your waist and keeping you from struggling, “There’s only going to be one more death tonight.”

Rolling your shoulders back, you took a deep breath but turned your head to the side and refused to look at him, even when he squeezed your waist for you to do so. When the warehouse light burned out, Tom let out a heated groan against your exposed neck, and there in the darkness the two of you stood, waiting for a gunshot.

***

pactum de non cedendo: an agreement not to yield.

taglist: @presidentbttrflyfreak @stealth-spiderr @astronomyparkers @starksparker @bi-writes @parsleysbaby @wheremyotpat @infamous-webhead @pparkerwrites @laurfangirl424 @gryfinpuffs @hollandroos @softspideys @gendryia @paradoxparker @plethoraofpuppies @laucontrerasv @yeastystrumpet @qxeen-of-hearts @shootingstarsaretearsofheaven

#tom holland #tom holland fanfiction #tom holland/reader #tom holland imagine #mob!tom holland #mob au #Mob!Tom #mob tom #tom holland fanfic #tom holland x reader #tom holland fic #viper au #dash it all

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probablyreal · 5 years

Text

“I shouldn’t post a write up for THAT dream,” I think. “It’s bullshit. I never finished Persona 5 anyway. It’s probably not even right.” Then I called it “a very weird fanfiction that I’m 90% sure already exists” and went, y’know, why not.

(Contains memory loss, guns, panic attacks, and perceived betrayal, I guess?)

Reading all this shit will be 1650 words, so like, 3 minutes of your life.

So the dream starts with Akira/Me standing outside of Leblanc. It’s sunny; he’s just standing there, looking up at it (up at his room?) until someone notices and calls the cops. Then they realize that it’s not just some random loitering kid; it’s Sakura’s kid, kind of, and this is a big deal because he’s been missing for 6+ months. They thought he ran away, but he’s back.

Unfortunately, everything in the dream agrees with him running away. He looks fine- not a scratch on him. He’s still quiet, only answers questions when he’s asked them, and sometimes not even then. They eventually decide that it’s fine, since he’s Sakura’s kid they can let him go- but seriously, he’s missed half a year of school, there’s gotta be some punishment for playing that much hooky. And that punishment will be doled out by the school, who miraculously hasn’t expelled him, and Sakura, who still lets him stay in the attic.

The attic was being used as the Phantom Thieves’ meeting place. Yusuke’s left paintings in various stages of completion behind. There’s nature, but with excessive greys; there’s monsters, but they aren’t based on personas; metaverse scenery, with red streaks reminiscent of blood. There’s one painting turned to the wall. It’s the whole Phantom Thieves crew, Akira included, but it’s distorted; the colours, the proportions, the expressions are wrong, not enough to be outright evil, but definitely unsettling. We look at all of them, and the specific thought is like a text box popping up: “This looks familiar...” Nothing happens after that, so we clear off the bed and go to sleep.

School, obviously, isn’t happy. I guess they didn’t suspend Akira because the dude’s already skipped school for six months, are you seriously gonna tell him to leave? So instead they assign him some menial labour like taking out the school’s trash (”Task: Take the school's garbage out. It needs to be done by Friday, or it won't be picked up.”), and basically a version of detention that he would need anyway, to catch up on his studies.

At some point during detention Akira wanted to do something but a textbox saying "I need to get Kawakami to trust me again if I want to... what?" pops up. Akira’s not really sure what made him think of that, because he actually has no idea where he’s been for the past six+ months. Somewhere. Not school, obviously, but he has no clue.

Obviously, he doesn’t mention this to his friends/family or associates. It’d sound like a cop-out, or an excuse, and nobody would believe him besides. He rubs the side of his chest because it aches, a bit; it doesn’t hurt, and there were no marks on him, but it feels like it used to hurt, you know? And his head throbs a bit when he thinks too hard, but if it’s not pain, it doesn’t matter.

The Phantom Thieves are kind of glad he’s back, but they’ve managed thus far without him. Ryuji and Ann are the new leaders because seniority. They’ve got busy schedules, wrangling the rest of the gang; besides, they’re not sure how to deal with Akira just up and abandoning them, and also being a bit of a liability now. He does, after all, know about the Phantom Thieves, but he’s not actively a part of them anymore.

That hurts a bit. But it’s ignorable. He has to focus on his real life stuff, appease the teachers, regain peoples’ trust. But when he does, he’ll get back to Phantom Thief stuff and it’ll be like it used to be... right?

For some reason ‘fast travel’ within the school was achieved via elevators to go up, or a big plastic tube/slide in a stairwell to go down. I don’t make the rules. Anyway, Akira used the slide and as soon as his feet hit the ground and he could see light again there was chest and head pains- difficulty breathing, can’t even stand, hard to think, hard to see. He scrambles out of the way because if you thought this fast travel slide was a dreamer-only thing you were wrong; other students could use it, or the stairs.

A couple people pass by, and they just see this kid with his back against a wall, knees against his chest, panting and gasping and clutching like he wants to rip his uniform open, gritting his teeth and trying to just breathe. But it’s school, and he’s the shitty delinquent, he’s probably acting or playing hooky again. Most of them go “ehh, not my problem” and walk away.

At some point Mishima walks past. He’s pissed too, because he’s the Phantom Thieves’ number one fan, after all, but he’s also your friend...? So he stops, and he watches, and eventually realizes this isn’t an act, Akira’s seriously having chest pains or a panic attack in the stairwell. So he goes “Do you need to go to the nurse?” and it’s an out! It’s an offer of help! But for some reason Akira tries to pretend everything is fine and shakes his head, so Mishima leaves.

It isn’t fine. Maybe it’s the lack of air, or maybe it’s the pain. Akira hallucinates, dreams, or maybe remembers the Metaverse: black and red, Joker’s coat under his clutching fingertips (where are his gloves?), a gun at his head and someone muttering that this would be too easy. The voice is familiar, but Akira’s vision is just so blurry, he can’t make out the figure- just a blur of white and red.

It’s not real, right?

The pain dies down eventually. He gets up with a textbox prompting "I had to do [thing]". As he goes to do it on the main floor of the school, everything he sees is kinda disorienting, wavy and dark around the edges. It’s like sound is being filtered through water. Colour leeches out of things, then comes back. There’s a smell of baking bread, and it’s nauseating.

The task is completed well enough, dizziness aside. (Akira’s pale as shit, obviously not okay, but nobody asks if he’s alright.) The elevator’s in use, so Akira goes to climb the stairs, but promptly passes out in the stairwell because chest pain and dizziness.

The last thought before smacking his head against a wall and then the ground is that he needs to “take out the garbage by Friday.”

The perspective switches to the other Phantom Thieves. Akira passed the Fuck out at school and was sent home; he’s resting in his attic, and they’re concerned enough that they’re there with him, despite, you know, avoiding him for however long he’s been back. I think I forgot what the rules for palaces in P5 were at this point, because the PTs break out their Metaverse Navigators and are entirely unsurprised to see that Akira has a palace.

Well, they’re together already. Why not just dive right in?

It’s not really a place so much as a game. It’s their city, but black and red, bright and bold and weirdly two-dimensional. It’s nice, or it would be nice, if it weren’t crumbling around them in slow motion. There are chunks missing from what should be sharp shapes, and not only that, but it’s like someone ripped handfuls out of the reds and tried to fill them with yellow and blue putty. Debris is falling in slow motion. As far as games go, they can defy some laws of physics- double jump, jump off the debris, etc.

They figure, well, if Akira has a palace he has a treasure, and it’s their job to steal it, right? But as they explore the palace it’s apparent things aren’t right here. If there are puzzles and traps, they’ve all been solved; if there are shadows, they’ve been defeated. Their trip takes them to familiar places: the school rooftop, the walkway, Akira’s room. All of their Phantom Thief hideouts. If this palace is a game, those would be checkpoints.

They find an obvious ‘vault’ for the treasure, and they find something they’d consider treasure, rippling and indistinct, but it’s like trying to jam a triangle block into a square hole. It can work, but it doesn’t fit. Something is wrong.

Suffice to say, the treasure they find isn’t Akira’s treasure- but what is it doing in Akira’s palace?

Morgana, eventually, wonders if someone already stole Akira’s treasure. It would explain why the palace is self-destructing, but it doesn’t tell them what they should do. And if Akira’s treasure got stolen, wouldn’t the destruction his palace be a good thing? (He’s not on a murder spree or dead...) And how did they even replace his treasure with someone else’s?

(What kind of an effect would it have, to replace a treasure? Whose treasure is slowing Akira’s palace from destructing? What’ll happen when it finally does- because Akira won’t have a palace, but he will have a treasure?)

They decide to regroup and call it a day.

Akira wakes up and needs to have a nice heart-to-heart with his friends, but it’s like pulling teeth because neither wants to say what they mean.

“Hey Akira, you have a palace” would be a hell of an opener and probably a lead-up to “and we’re gonna steal your treasure”.

“Hey guys, I have amazing amnesia and it’s scary, not knowing six months of my life” is just, no.

“You guys just... assumed I’d left? Did you even look for me?” would be tough to ask without the second question, and harder to answer. ”Of course we did- but Akira, how could you think otherwise?”

Eventually the others leave, and Akira tries to think about what could have happened in the last six months. He’s glad his friends are around, at least, but he’s so tired.

His head and chest (is that his heart?) hurt. He needs to use the washroom, but making it all the way there is seeming less possible by the second. At this point he decides he’s going to have to piss on his potted plant because it’s preferable to pissing his pants and I went “nope, if you piss in a dream you piss for real”.

So I woke up.

Anyway I told most of this to a friend @nishiuraboys and they know a ton more of Persona stuff than me so they said:

theory 1: Akira somehow faced his own shadow during a trip in the metaverse, splash in some elements of p4 mechanics where deny your shadow means Boss Battle, it goes horribly wrong which results in akira going missing for months

theory 2: someone else finds out that akira has a palace and promptly decides to Fuck Shit Up they face the shadow version of Akira, which a la p4 mechanics is the embodiment of resentment, frustration, anger, and despair that Akira refuses to acknowledge despite having acknowledged bits of it

Mystery friend toys with shadow akira for weeks, sometimes fighting them, other times taunting them, but never outright Defeating him which leads to Akira hecking away for months cause his psych is literally being played with he comes back but the with resulting aftereffects of what those weeks prior to disappearing did to him

I also had No idea what happened in P4, so they tried to elaborate for me:

personas have two forms, the initial one that’s summoned and a better one either via ranking up a link or through story progression

akira can have a palace if him having a palace means he can't achieve the second form of his initial persona because the shadow him is running amok

p4's thing with shadow basically boils down that the 'you' in the real world and the 'you' in the shadow world are one and the same and if you think different or deny the shadow, Boss Fight or Murder

#dreams #persona 5 #memory loss #meh writing #kinda...#guns #betrayal #akira kurusu

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