#and i always want to reach out more to people but i am permanently worried about being annoying so | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

charmercharm3r · 2 years ago

Text

Phases

Phase One: Emotion Sickness

LMH, HJS

Masterlist, Story Masterlist

wc: 8.7k

Story Synopsis: Whoever said patience is a virtue have never met Jisung and Minho.

warnings: smut, explicit sexual content, poly!minsung (jisung chapter focus), dom!jisung x brat!reader, mxm, overcome angst, alcohol consumption, unprotected but clean piv, orgasm denial, a nice lil slap, lots of teasing and back talk, marking, talk of training reader, cream pie, stupid asses in love

Phase One ☆ﾟ.*･｡ﾟPhase Two

Being best friends with Jisung is like living in a sitcom every day of your life. Everything about him is comical and endearing and you love every bit of him and his huge personality. You’d been friends with him for so long that when he sat you down, worried look on his face, and told you he liked both boys and girls you raised an eyebrow at him, “am I supposed to act surprised?”

“You’re not?” His expression changed from worry to confusion.

“As if we’re not a pair of bisexual assholes.”

“Wait, you like girls too?!”

“How have you survived this long?” You stood from your seat and pressed a mockingly sweet kiss to the top of his head, pulling him into a hug.

Nothing in your friendship had changed other than things were a lot more open between you and Jisung. The two of you shared love interests and swapped between them like clothes back and forth, generally no relationship going past anything other than a second date and maybe taking them home. You both even went to testing centers together to make sure neither of you contracted any of the nasty. Definitely fun, reckless things kids in college did. That was, until Jisung met Minho in your senior year.

Minho was a few years older than you both, had a permanent job and lived on his own. He was his own person that somehow wiggled his way into your duo to become a trio. You weren’t mad at it, by any means, Minho was one of the most attractive, intriguing, successful men you’d ever seen. For that reason, you questioned why he wanted to be friends with Jisung, and even more, friends with you.

It became evident early on that he wasn’t leaving either of you alone any time soon and you became used to his presence, eventually coming to the point where you wanted to be around him just as much as you did Jisung. The three of you were the pinnacle of friend groups. So bound at the hip, none of you ever realized how strange it looked on the outside.

But Jisung and Minho started spending more time together, without you. Sure it sucked and yeah, you were hurt that they never bothered to invite you, but Minho was always Jisung’s friend before he was yours. You always just thought the three of you were a package deal, not accessories to be mixed and matched.

They made up for it in time after you expressed your feelings and were gracious not to make it a bigger deal than you wanted it to be. There weren’t even any tears shed… by Minho. You and Jisung, on the other hand, were absolute jokes of a mess, faces red, covered in tears and snot running down your noses, weeping into each other’s arms because you’re both the most dramatic people any of you know. When you pulled Minho into the hug, squishing Jisung between your bodies, he thought he might’ve shed a tear with how tightly you held him. But as the two of you fell apart, Minho wouldn’t bring himself to unravel out of sheer need to protect his only two constants. So he wrapped himself around you and Jisung, blanketing you both until your breaths and heartbeats returned to normal.

“C’mon Min, it’s just a little get together. You don’t even need to bring anything other than your pretty, pretty face,” you smiled up at the brunette who was flowing about the kitchen while you sat on the counter.

“You’re in my way,” he murmured and reached around your body to grab whatever he needed.

“You’re avoiding the subject.”

“Not avoiding. Just ignoring.”

“Rude.”

Just as you spoke, the sound of the front door rang through the apartment, “who’s rude?” Jisung sounded. He kicked his shoes off and joined you and Minho, sitting on a stool at the kitchen island.

“Your boyfriend. He doesn’t wanna go to Changbin’s party tomorrow.” Neither of the two reacted at the labeled nickname. They were used to you making jokes, even turning it around and saying they were your boyfriends, too.

Minho peaked his head out from around the refrigerator door to look at you, “you said it was a ‘little get together.’”

“Potatoe, potato.”

“Why don’t you wanna go to Changbin hyung’s thing? Didn’t you agree to give him some cookbooks as a housewarming gift or something?” Jisung snatched a crouton from the salad bowl Minho was preparing, earning him a sharp look from the older.

“I just don’t feel like socializing.” Minho groaned into the fridge, closing the door around his head, hiding.

Jisung stood and wrapped his arms around Minho to playfully shake him back and forth, “pleeease, hyung?”

“Pleeease, Min?” You copied Jisung’s tone, “it’ll be so much fun. We can drink and eat good food and–”

“Fine,” he pulled his head out of the fridge and pushed Jisung away, “but we’re leaving by 10.”

None of you left by 10, and the housewarming party was not little. It was like you were back in college with how many people you didn’t know crammed into one room. And like most college parties, everyone was wasted beyond belief, even Changbin who was meant to be hosting. You, Minho, and Jisung tried greeting him only to be met by his overly affectionate persona that showed face when he was drunk. He had slung his arm over your shoulder and slurred incoherent sentences in your ear that made you laugh.

Minho didn’t like that, he shoved Changbin off of you and let him fall to the couch to let someone else deal with.

As the three of you made your rounds to greet everyone that was sober enough to speak to, you came to the conclusion that you couldn’t let your friends be shit faced without any supervision. You took it upon yourself to watch over them, keep their face out of toilet bowls so they don’t drown and put a pillow under their heads when they finally passed out. Chan was sort of helping, though only for a little because Jisung convinced him to take a few more shots knowing how much of a lightweight he is, and Chan was soon down for the count as well and taking up space on the hallway floor. Felix and Hyunjin were nowhere to be found, you could only guess they either left early or occupied one of the bathrooms to share the toilet. Seungmin refused to let you help him make it to the couch, Minho had to throw him over his shoulder to cooperate, and Jeongin followed you like a lost puppy until you coerced him into Changbin’s bed beside him where they both fell asleep.

You were too absorbed in getting all the other strangers out of the house and making sure your friends didn’t die that you didn’t realize it had probably been hours since you’d spoken to Minho or Jisung. Even if you arrived with and planned to leave with them, you suddenly felt lonely.

Turning down the music and flicking on the lights, you picked up whatever trash you could to get ahead of cleaning when you heard voices coming from the kitchen. Surely, it was your best friends because they would never leave you behind. Without thinking, you headed for the garbage can in the kitchen and hoped to talk Minho into forgiving you for keeping them out so late. The voices fell silent, as did your footsteps when you tiptoed over a passed out Chan to step into the room. You laughed at his sleeping form, using his jacket as a blanket and one of the couch’s throw pillows tucked beneath his head.

Just as you entered the kitchen’s doorway, your eyes fell upon what was both the most confusing and entrancing of scenes. Pinned between the countertop and Minho’s body was Jisung with his fingers carding through the brunette’s hair, tugging him closer while their lips moved in together in a delicate dance. The sound of their mouths colliding and lungs striving for air was the only thing you could hear, ringing in your ears like a siren song. Minho’s hands snaked around the younger’s waist and made him look small in his grasp. You particularly watched the way neither of them seemed to be in a hurry and how gently they held one another. Your hand moved on its own, coming up to your mouth to touch your lips like they were longing for the same warmth. The movement made the plastic red cups in your hold drop to the floor with a loud clatter, scaring you into dropping everything else, too.

The two boys pulled away from each other in the blink of an eye, immediately realizing that it was you. Their stares were wide and frantic and ears tinted red. Jisung scratched at the back of his neck and readjusted his shirt, Minho ran his fingers through his hair, and both their lips plump, glossy, kiss bitten. They looked between each other and back at you, then each other again before taking a step forward in unison towards you. You took a step back, still unsure of what to do. Neither of them pressed again, just watching your movements.

“I didn’t mean to intrude…” you laughed out of nervousness and embarrassment, moreso the latter hoping they couldn’t see the pink that covered your cheeks. “I’m… I’m gonna go home.”

“We’ll come with you,” Jisung was quick to speak, holding his hand out. You backed away another step, an anxious chuckle leaving you.

“That’s okay. I– I’m gonna sleep at my own place tonight.” Jisung backed down, knowing that the sympathetic smile on your face was enough to show you weren’t mad or upset, just needing space.

However, Minho looked like a lost puppy that was just kicked to the ground, more than hurt. The sheen that covered his eyes were painful to look at, as though you’d been the one to hurt him. As far as that was from the truth, you still had to blink a few overwhelmed tears away while simultaneously feigning a smile so hard your cheeks hurt. His hands were less antsy, clutching one over his chest. As you looked between them, you swiped the stray moisture from your eyes and gave them a thumbs up, “I’ll see you guys… uh… soon… Bye.”

With that, you left, hoping the night air would make the fog in your brain dissipate.

Out of all the things you expected the night to bring, seeing your two best friends kissing definitely wasn’t one of them. By no means were you angry, not at them, at least. Confused, sure, but who wouldn’t be? More than anything, you were curious. They seemed so comfortable with each other, as though they’d been doing it for years.

If you hadn’t alarmed them, what would have happened next? If you hadn’t run away, what would they have said? If you hadn’t reacted so badly, would you be asleep next to them and not in your own bed alone?

As you laid facing the ceiling, your mind wandered back to the night before. The sounds of their wet lips smothering one another, the grip of Jisungs fingers pulling Minho’s hair so sweetly and Minho caressing Jisung like he was fine china. You wondered when the hell that had happened, when they happened. There wasn’t a day since you had expressed feeling left out that they had neglected inviting you, so how the fuck did you miss all the signs? And why was it bothering you that you did? You should be beyond the moon that your two most precious people in the world are seeing each other, because they’re perfect. They’re perfect together and you couldn’t have picked anyone better to make them happy. Right?

Right. They’re carbon copies in different fonts, strangely perfect and perfectly strange. Why does your chest feel so tight? Since when did your heart beat in your stomach? There’s no way you could be jealous, or else you’d be an even shittier person than you thought you already were.

In the two days you had been ignoring their texts and phone calls– mostly Jisungs’s– you ran through every possible explanation your smooth brain could come up with. There was that they were drunk and it was a spur of the moment thing. Though, that wouldn’t explain either of their reactions, if that was the case then they would’ve laughed it off. You also theorized that maybe Jisung had food on his face, it was a common enough occurrence that you couldn’t rule it out entirely. Yeah, that’s the one. Minho was helping him because Jisung would rather aimlessly lick his tongue around his lips than use a napkin, and it just so happened that they—

Knock, knock, knock.

You weren’t expecting anyone, and deliveries can never make it up the six flights of stairs to get to your front door. Haphazardly, you tiptoed to the door and looked through the peephole. Jisung was bouncing up and down in his spot, ashy blonde hair messy like he’d just wrestled with a bear. His head snapped straight up to the dark side of the peephole, “Y/N, c’mon. I heard you walk up to the door.”

“Fuck,” you curse to yourself before letting him in.

Jisung pushed his way through before you even had the opportunity to open the door all the way, kicking off his house slippers and pacing around your living room. Slowly shutting it behind you, you leaned your back against the door and clutched onto your elbows. He waved his hands around like he was having an internal battle with himself. In fact, Jisung looked like he’d been fighting that battle for the past two days. He was still dressed in his house shorts and a ratty old shirt you remember him buying years ago, there was a hole in his sock where his big toe was and it made you smile small at his never ending hardheadedness even after both you and Minho told him to throw the pair away.

“Ji,” you called, voice cracking slightly. He stopped his stride and eyes shot teary daggers into your soul. “You don’t need to explain anything to me.”

“B– but I need to! Things are so much more complicated than it looked when you found us and you deserve answers because you’ve never once kept anything from us and–”

You took a few strong steps forward to catch him by the shoulders and came face to face. He was almost shaking in your hold, letting your hands warm the cold skin of his neck to sooth him. Jisung melted into your touch and you could feel him already beginning to calm, though his lip still trembled, so much he wanted to say but had no idea how to say it. So you spoke first, “you two are my most favorite people in the entire world. If you’re happy, I’m happy.”

“That’s the problem,” Jisung took your hands and guided them to his cheeks, keeping you from moving. He took a closer step into you, “you’re our favorite person. And the way you looked at us…” The way he referred to the pair of them made you feel just that much more sick in your gut. “I’d rather die than have you look at me like that again.” His hands held yours tighter, squishing your palms to his cheeks to the point of his lips puckering.

You didn’t say anything, instead waiting for him to calm down enough so that he could articulate himself the way he wanted. When he did, Jisung sucked in a deep breath and closed his eyes. “I need to tell you something but you need to promise me you won’t run.”

“You know I have a 14 minute walking mile time.” He laughed breathily and guided you both to sit on the floor, couch behind your backs with your hands still glued to his cheeks. “You can tell me anything.”

“Min wanted to wait, but I can’t stand not talking to you for so long–”

“It’s been two days.”

“Exactly. And I’m going crazy because I love you so much…” Jisung gritted his teeth as he said it, you filled the tense silence by whispering, “I love you, too.”

“No, no… Y/N. I love you,” his tone went higher the more he spoke, scared of the blank, expressionless look on your face. Your silence made him keep talking, “I’m in love with you and I’m in love with Minho and he’s in love with you, too. We’re in love with you and I can’t take another second without you knowing that.”

Either you felt everything at once or you felt nothing at all, though you doubted the latter was the issue. The problem was that you didn’t know what it was you were feeling, the two days of voluntary solitude wasn’t enough for you to understand the panging in your chest and how your heart was about to fall out of your ass or the way you wanted to jump Jisung’s bones and hug him until you molecularly phased into his body. All that, and all you could say was, “I love you, too,” again.

It seems he had the same thoughts you did because Jisung crashed his body into yours and sent you slamming into the floor with him keeping you in a bone crushing embrace. His head stayed buried in your neck and hand tangled in your hair, the way you remember him doing to Minho. The feeling of him pulling you in closer by the roots had you wrapping your legs around his torso so the two of you were shaped around one another like a vine. How long you stayed like this, you didn’t know, just that he left supple kisses along the junction of your shoulder that made your head spin with adoration.

More than likely it was hours later that the two of you made your way into your bed with a laughable amount of snacks and coffee to keep you awake for another two days, snuggled beneath the covers. This was normal, in bed with him doing nothing but talking and sharing your thoughts was what you and Jisung did on a regular basis. Except now, he was on his side, head propped in his palm and looking at you like you held the world in your hands. Little to your knowledge, he always looked at you like that. It was only at this moment did you realize.

“When did you and Min… get together?” Your voice was soft, listening intently.

“The same time you got mad at us for leaving you out. That wasn’t intentional and I already knew how I felt about you. I was just… caught up in the moment for a little? God, I had never felt so shitty in my life, making you cry like that.” Jisung lifted his hand to thumb at your cheek as you smiled into his touch.

“Yeah, I didn’t really appreciate that either,” you joked. “So… you’ve known you liked me–”

“Love you,” he corrected.

“Loved me,” Jisung nodded in approval. “And you told Min before you told me?”

“I was scared! You don’t have the best track record with confrontation, babe.” You both giggled at the recall of the previous night, your head falling against his chest to hide the tinge of pink on your cheeks. His free hand held your cheek to his pec and soothingly massaged your scalp until you both relaxed.

It was silent again for a little as you readjusted to lay completely in his arms, engulfed in his scent and body heat. As you laid there, your mind went through all of the times where the three of you were together, you scanned the background of your memories for all the weird stares you’d get from passersby or comments your friends made, even the times where they’d call themselves your boyfriends and how easily it rolled off their tongues.

“Okay.”

Jisung looked down at you, humming with confusion, “okay?”

“Break it down for me.” You drew meaningless shapes into his skin through his shirt, feeling his heartbeat pick up just a little. “I wanna know how this is… all gonna work.”

“Oh! O– okay, well,” Jisung took in a large breath before reaching for your fidgeting hand and intertwining your fingers. “We’ll go slow, step by step, take as much time as you need to feel comfortable. Phase one, we do everything we already do just with a few… more than friendly perks.”

You lingered on the way your hand fit in his so nicely, skin soft and his pretty fingers decorated with rings. “What about Minho? You said he didn’t want you to tell me yet.”

Jisung sighed at the mention of the older. “We let him bring it up at his own pace. He scares away like a cat, y’know.”

The longer Jisung played with your hand, the longer you yearned to touch him, more of him. Mentioning Minho made you remember the tight grip he had in the brunette’s hair, how sweet he sounded when kissing him. You bit your lip at the thought and was suddenly raging with confidence. “So,” you sat up and looked at him, now towering over his figure. “If I wanted to kiss you, would I have to wait to do it infront of him?”

“Y– you wanna kiss me?” Jisung’s eyes widened, pads of his fingers coming up to press against his lips.

Taking his hand away, you guided it to your neck the way he did to you earlier. “Since we’re being honest, I can’t stop thinking about that night, you and him.” His grip tightened just a little as your hand splayed over his chest and slowly rose up. “Can I? Kiss you?”

“Oh my god, I’ve been waiting for you to as–”

Jisung pulled you into him before he could finish his thought, slotting against you with ambition. He felt just as you imagined him, eager but mindful in how to hold you, letting you set the tone with just closed mouth smooches as the sounds of your lips smacking bounced off the bedroom walls. Both his hands found their way into your hair and pulled you impossibly closer until your body fell onto him entirely. You didn’t know what to do with yourself, kissing your best friend until you were both breathless and needy, knowing better than to do anything more.

But oh, how you wanted to. You wanted to kiss him everywhere, make him cower into the sheets and make him feel how much you loved him. There was just too much right now, too much to be figured out. A night of desire wasn’t worth a lifetime of friendship.

So as you pulled away, reluctant Jisung whining and chasing after you for more, you let your forehead rest against his and let out a satisfied laugh. “Slow,” you whispered, letting him pepper kisses to your cheeks.

“Can’t we just jump to phase three?” He breathed against your skin.

“What’s phase three?”

Jisung’s lips made their way down your neck, his tongue leaving wet streaks the further he descended. “You, me, Min, a big ass bed covered in rose petals and candle light. Maybe a kick ass playlist to set the mood–”

The sound of your phone ringing made the both of you jump as if you were being caught doing something illegal. You broke into another fit of giggles when you found out it was Minho calling you. “Hey, pretty boy,” you answer him with a grin, still looking down at Jisung who stared up at you fondly.

“Jesus, Y/N. Are you okay? Why haven’t you been answering? Are you home? I– I’ve tried calling you for days–”

“Two days, Min.”

“Days. It’s been days.” Jisung could hear his voice booming through the phone, laughing and shrugging at how it’s the same thing he’d told you.

“I’m okay.” You eased his worries with two simple words, hearing him sigh on the other end of the call.

“You’re okay,” Minho repeated, relieved.

There was a pause in his breathing, probably unsure of what to say as he walked on eggshells. You knew this about him, he needed careful approaching, as Minho doesn’t like what he doesn’t already know. “I’m coming over tomorrow,” you stated.

“I’d be upset if you didn’t.”

Chuckling lightly, you let Jisung bring your fingertips to his lips and press a kiss to them. As you smiled at the man beneath you, you spoke into the phone, “love you.”

“Whatever… Love you, too.”

“Love you, too!” Jisung yelled into the speaker before you hung up, hearing Minho let out a strangled call of the other boy’s full name and the line went dead.

Jisung immediately took your phone and tossed it aside so he could kiss you again. And again, and again, and again, until both your lips were raw and bruised and chapped.

He slept over and the two of you went over to Minho’s the next afternoon. You were dizzy with how quickly things were changing in your trio’s dynamic, but chose to embrace it rather than question it. Jisung assured you that everything will move as you chose, there was no pressure to do anything you didn’t want to— except talking to Minho. That was something the two men previously agreed that that was Minho’s conversation to have with you. It made you nervous, but if you know him like you think you do, it shouldn’t be anything to worry about.

Nothing was out of any sorts. The topic of the housewarming party was nowhere in sight as you ate lunch, stayed for dinner and even dessert, deciding to call it a night a bit later.

Days went by like that. In front of Minho, everything was the same. But when you and Jisung were alone, things began to get more and more heated. Hands roamed further, kisses became more desperate, you had to force yourself off his lap out of guilt that Minho didn’t know what was happening.

“Baby, you think I wouldn’t tell him? He knows,” Jisung explained after what was probably the fourth or fifth time that week you’ve stopped before you could even get started.

“He knows?! For how long?!” You fully slammed on his crotch, Jisung wincing in pain and accidentally knocking his head back against his headboard. Crossing your arms over your chest, you could feel his cock twitch in his pants at the heavy contact.

“For a few days— can you not sit—“

You intentionally sat deeper, crushing him. “When exactly did you tell him?”

“Three days ago— Y/N, my balls, please—“

“We could’ve had sex three days ago without me feeling like a guilty piece of shit?!”

“There’ll be no dick to have sex with if you don’t get up!” You lifted your hips with a roll of your eyes, Jisung sighing with relief as the pressure alleviated. “I briefly mentioned it in passing that you were a little weary about moving forward without talking to him.”

“Oh… Well, what did he say?”

“That he’s getting there. He’s just really embarrassed,” he caught your hands fidgeting again, holding them tightly in his own before guiding your palms against his chest.

“Embarrassed? About what?”

“How you found out. Let him tell you the details, I think it’s better that way.” You nodded, exhaling deeply as your heart sank a little that Minho was too embarrassed about the whole thing to even speak to you.

“Is he… embarrassed of me?” The sting of hot tears wanted to swell in your waterline, suddenly overwhelmed with guilt that you caused him to feel such a way. You know Minho, you know Jisung, and you know that there has never been a time where you didn’t think you couldn’t go to them for anything. You were sure that if you killed someone, they’d get rid of the body to keep you out of jail. Or better yet, help you plan the murder so none of you were even considered suspects.

Jisung sat up and wrapped his arms around your torso to bring you in for a hug, tucking your head into the crook of his neck. “Baby, baby, no. That’s not it at all!” Your small sniffle had him squeezing you tighter, “I can’t explain it to you the way that he can, but just know we love you. And we want to be with you. You know how weird his mind works. He’ll talk to you about it soon.”

Nodding in agreement, taking Jisung’s words to heart and letting your mind drift away from the brunette and back to the ashy blonde beneath you.

Pulling away from your hiding spot, the aching between your legs was still painfully present, as was the straining in his pants. Pushing his hair from his face while your other hand thumbed at his mouth, your eyebrows raised, “I’m guessing you’re not big on cock stepping?”

Laughing, falling back and taking you with him, Jisung’s hands slipped just under the hem of your shirt to feel your warm skin. “Not particularly. I’d like to have kids someday.”

You smiled as he kissed you, a simple peck that multiplied down his neck and across his exposed collar bones. He liked that area, you noted in the way his hips kicked up into yours and the grip around your waist grew stronger. His hands slipped higher until you decided to discard the shirt entirely, your bra clad cleavage proudly in his face. It wasn’t anything special, but Jisung’s eyes blew wide as though your covered breasts were the key to his life’s questions.

“How can you go from crying about our boyfriend to having your tits in my face? Like a fucking angel,” he ogled your chest unabashedly.

“I’m not even naked yet,” you giggled, blushing.

“Oh god, you’re right.” Jisung dragged his hands down his face while letting his eyes roll back and dramatically whimpering.

Leaning down to kiss him, you shot back up just as quickly, “our boyfriend?”

“Your boyfriend, my boyfriend. The broody, moody guy that cooks for us sometimes and smells really good—”

“Han Jisung,” you interrupted him once more. “Ask me the question.”

“Y’know, I had a whole speech prepared.”

“Did you, now?”

“I was waiting for the right time to say it.”

“Mhm.”

“I was! I practiced it in the bathroom mirror and I gotta say, I’d definitely date me.” Nodding your head some more, you tapped your forefinger against his cheek. “Fine, fine. Cliff notes version,” your approving hum made Jisung clear his throat. “Please do me the honor of allowing me to be your one of two boyfriends.”

“Only because you said please.”

You were flipped onto your back in the split second it took to kiss him again, a squeal leaving your lips when your head hit the pillows. The room was filled with giggles from you and Jisung, hands roaming where they never had before but feeling as though they should’ve been the whole time. He never stayed away for too long, when he took his hands away to strip off his shirt, Jisung grinded his hips deeply into you, fabric on fabric good but not nearly enough.

You’d seen him shirtless more than enough times and each time you’d wanted to run your tongue through the lines of his abs. How badly you wanted to do that now as Jisung towered over you, looking down at your body, his to devour. His eyes were dark, tiniest of glimmers when he smiled deviously. Thumb pressing against your lips, Jisung tilted his head and pouted, “I’m gonna have so much fun with you, baby.

“If it gets too much for you, call yellow, we’ll slow down. Say red and we’ll stop completely. Okay?” You nodded, understanding what you were getting into with him. There have been enough vague yet pinpoint detailed stories shared, making you all the more excited to finally experience it for yourself.

He didn’t need to force his digit past your lips, you let him in without a fight, immediately sucking and teasing him with your tongue. Jisung tsked at your eagerness, “what happened to going slow, hm?”

Teasing. He was teasing you, using your words against you because Jisung knew that’s where his strength lied. He knew he could say the nastiest of things and get away with it, he did it before everything happened and now he could say it with all intents and purposes. Your hips rutted up from under him, but Jisung’s body weight kept you pinned to the mattress. The more you squirmed the bigger he smiled. His chest heaving up and down with heavy breaths was taunting you, your free hand reaching up to trace your nails down his skin from his pec down to the hem of his pants. Jisung shivered at the feeling and you had the honor of witnessing his cock twitching.

Plucking his thumb away, Jisung smeared your saliva over your lips and cheek until his fingers tangled in your hair again, this time yanking you somehow even further against the pillows. Your wince was followed by a menacing giggle, provoking him into gripping the roots tighter. “I don’t know why you’re laughing, babe.”

“You’re so cute when you try to be scary,” you pouted up at him mockingly, laugh turning into a moan when he tugged your head up and leaned over to be centimeters away from each other.

“Is being intimidating only Min’s thing? You’ve got a lot to learn.”

“Then teach me. How scared should I be of you, baby?”

Jisung huffed and threw you back down, climbing off your body entirely and stepping to the side of the bed. You laid on your side, looking up at him as his eyes raked up and down your figure, bra strap slipping off your shoulder and house shorts riding up to just barely show the outline of your aching cunt. Jisung’s mouth watered as you waited for his response, your face feigning innocence while your body was screaming for his touch.

His hand lingered over the button of his pants for a second before crouching to your eye level. “You want the beginner lesson?”

“Advanced.” Jisung pecked your lips once more before standing tall again, finally undoing his pants and relieving the pressure. His bulge fell over the zipper, covered only by his boxers and even those seemed too tight. You bit your lip, reaching out for him. Jisung slapped your hand away and scrunched his eyebrows together, “who gave you permission?”

“I did,” you answered immediately.

“You’re not the boss, baby. Not right now. I don’t have the patience to deal with your brattiness, you’ve kept me waiting for too long already.” He took his pants off and boxers along with it, length springing free in your face.

“Why’s that? You only let Min talk shit to you?”

“Nah, you’ll see. I’ve trained him real good, and I’m gonna do the same with you.”

Jisung manhandled you to hang your head over the edge of the bed, looking at him upside down. The way he threw you around like a ragdoll was painfully arousing, you knew he worked out, but not just how strong he was. “Oh, so you can use those muscles. Who knew?”

“You’re still making jokes? Aren’t you the one on your back?”

“Aren't you the one on a leash?”

“And who’s holding the lead? You?” Jisung scoffed, taking his cock in hand and slowly stroking. It wasn’t until you saw it in his grasp did you realize the extent of his size, you turned to get a better look but was shoved back into position instantly. “No, of course you aren’t. You’re too cock hungry to even control yourself. What ever made that pretty head think it could control me?”

Holding you down by the shoulder, your mouth opened and tongue fell out as Jisung gave a few soft slaps to your cheek with his dick. As degrading as it was, nothing was more humiliating than the fact that you couldn’t stop your legs from pressing together and your hands white knuckling the sheets to stop from shoving them down your pants. He chuckled and his own jaw went slack. “See? Just a slutty little puppy. Wanting to suck on anything and everything.”

You whined a little when he forced your mouth closed with his free hand and held you steady, smearing his precum covered tip around your lips. “Aw, you sound so cute. Cute pup.”

Hips kicking higher, you let them fall back down roughly and drawing his attention elsewhere. Jisung let your jaw go to shove his cock down your throat unexpectedly, making you gag and tears immediately flood. He didn’t give you room to even think, his balls pressing against your nose and leaning over your body to bury himself deeper. Just when you thought you were going to tap out, Jisung pulled away and had you gasping for air.

“Where’d you learn to take cock so well, pup? Mind if I help myself?” He didn’t wait for you to reply, propping himself up on either side of your torso and blindly entering your mouth again. Your throat constricted around it for a few seconds, letting himself succumb to the warm, wet walls. The muffled whimper made goosebumps rise along Jisung’s skin and pull out to the tip. You swirl your tongue around and around, suckling him like a lollipop and attempting to keep your hands to yourself. As if not touching yourself was torture enough, he took a handful of the front of your shorts and pulled, center seam rubbing against your clit easily with how wet you were.

“Didn’t think you’d give in so easily,” he laughed darkly and practically holding your lower half in the air by your shorts, frantically searching for friction. “You were even easier to tame than Min, just had to tell him how cute he was and he was a goner. You? All you want is a good cock to pacify you, hm? Who woulda thought.”

The mumble of your attempted response was intelligible until he pulled away to let his dick fall from your mouth, “what was that, pup?”

“Need your cock,” you breathed heavily, finally able to now that your mouth was free.

“Yeah you fucking do,” Jisung dropped your lower half and stuck his hand down the front of your shorts, fingers swiping at youre core and spreading your arousal beneath the fabric. “Gonna make you crave me all the fucking time.”

Finally being touched had your jaw hanging open again, but he didn’t seem to notice, entranced by the lewd sound of your wetness. He wasn’t rough but not gentle either, massaging the perfect amount of pressure to the bundle of nerves and made you rub your hips into his palm. You’ve been worked up for days, desperate to come, desperate enough to grab his hand and still him, using him to your pleasure without care. Jisung let you for the time being, stuck in a trance watching the way you moved. How small your hand looked wrapped around his wrist, it’d look even prettier around his–

“Gonna cum, fuck, fuck, fu–”

Jisung stole himself away just before you could finish, killing the impending high you so deeply wanted.

“No, no! Fucking hell, why?!” You whined loudly, legs spasming from denial.

He didn't answer you, not losing any adrenaline and still able to powerfully maneuver you away from the edge of the bed, strip away your remaining clothing, and have you sitting on top of him again in a moment’s notice. Jisung sat with his back against the headboard, though low enough that your head leveled higher than his, staring down at his sweaty, smug face.

“Fucking pillow princess,” you murmured out of spite, not thinking anything of it as you reached for his cock.

Grabbing your hand tightly, “the fuck did you call me, pup?” Jisung tilted his head back and dominatingly peered at you through sharp eyes, clearly not playing.

“Pillow. Princess.” You struggled to get out of his grasp. The denied orgasm had pissed you off, initially ready to let him have his way until he stripped you of the one thing he knew you’d been pining for. This was retaliation.

The light slap across your cheek sent you into a monetary daze, eyes going wide at the sting. Jisung was already looking at you when you peered down at him, clear in the way his chin tipped up at you that you had lost that battle.

“Don’t bite the hand that fucking feeds you, pup. Be my good fucking girl and ride.” Not like you were beaten into submission, moreso talked into it, you whimpered and lip involuntarily pouted. Jisung’s handle on your wrist loosened and allowed you to take his dick in hand, pressing the tip to your entrance. As a last desperate act, you circled it around the rim, gathering your essence and teasing the both of you. “Last warning,” he threatened, not bothering to look at you as the sight of him about to enter you was distracting enough.

When you sank down, slow, inch by inch, you melted into one another as you came to the hilt, shivering once your clit made contact with the warm skin of his pelvis. Jisung’s shoulders relaxed, his hands rubbing soothingly over the tops of your thighs and up your love handles. The two of you stayed like this for a while, his domineering act washing away a little as your lip continued to tremble. He smirked, cupping your cheek, “awe, too much for you, pup?”

His counterfeit sympathy was obvious, but you’d take what you could get, nuzzling into his palm and nails digging into his abdomen. Jisung nodded along with you, jutting his lower lip out while also reading your face for any sign of discomfort. He knew you had limits, just testing where they were knowing fully well you could stop if you wanted.

Though, you shook your head, no, brows scrunching together and eyes blinking away pleasureful tears. You were already breathless and overwhelmed, leaving red crescents into Jisung’s skin wherever you laid your claws, but he seemed to like the pain. He pushed your hands deeper into him and looked straight into your eyes, “ride.”

Experimentally, you leaned forward and lifted your hips, sinking back down almost uncoordinatedly with how excited and overwhelmed you were. Jisung could feel your thighs shaking as you sat down fully on him, he placed his hands on your love handles and gave an encouraging squeeze.

Raising again, you slammed down harder, repeating the action until you found a steady rhythm. Filling and emptying, again and again, you were dizzy with how good it felt. Heat flushed your body as you lost yourself in working against him, genuinely paying no mind to the man blushing beneath you. Jisung gazed at you in awe, adoration as you enjoyed yourself. He didn’t even feel the need to help you anymore, putting his hands behind his head and took in the sight of your tits bouncing with each motion. The longer you kept your pace, your knees and thighs burned and muscles began to grow tight. You changed the position slightly, propping one leg up and using that leverage to continue. But even that became tiresome, finding yourself growing much too emotionally saturated to bring yourself to orgasm.

Jisung could feel this, your frustration, and he felt somewhat bad that he hadn’t given you the first high. Only somewhat. Seeing you work yourself into a whining, moaning mess made him smile to himself and sit up to press his chest to yours. Jisung peppered kisses along your collarbone and softly worked you down to a slow grind. Your heart rate fell steady as he finally indulged you with a sweet kiss, stark comparison to the mean words he spat earlier.

He wouldn’t be Jisung if he didn’t leave you wanting more, pulling away prematurely and leaning back again, this time taking you with him. He guided your hands to hold onto the top of the head board and smother his face in your breasts. Marks he bit into your skin felt more pleasurable than painful, you wondered if the slap before truly hurt or if you were just shocked.

Your grip on the headboard tightened as his hands lifted you a bit more by your bottom and spread your knees wider. Jisung jutted up slightly, testing his and your patience. He did this again, shallowly thrusting just the tip into you, making you moan, “Ji, baby, pleeease.”

“Am I still a pillow princess, pup? You couldn’t even get yourself to cum, now I have to do all the work.” Even if it was mean, his tone of voice like mothering a toddler that was learning to eat on their own, gentle teaching.

“Hnghhh, nooo,” you mewled.

“No, what, pup?” Jisung continued his depthless ruts, egging you on.

“Can’t– need to– wanna cum–”

He could hear how fragile you were now, overall amazed by you to the point he wanted to ditch the entire facade and give you everything you wanted. Though, he needed to see it through till the end, more like to prove to himself that he could do it in the first place.

Adjusting his hands to grip your love handles firmly, Jisung kept you in place to thrust up into you. You were caught off guard at how quickly he gave into your needy pleas, knees almost giving out below you. But Jisung was quick to catch your weight, every thrust up as you fell down kept you bouncing once again, tits jiggling in his face delightfully smothering. The minor slap he left to your ass made your cunt clench and cry out louder, then repeating just to get a reaction. Jisung wasn’t sure what he loved more, how naturally your body responded to him or how you couldn’t seem to get enough.

Your hands moved from the head board to his shoulder, wrapping around his neck to brace yourself on and to feel as close as possible. Here, you were coming undone quicker than expected, having him doing the work now let you fall victim to the euphoria of his cock nudging the sweet spot within you, stars behind your eyelids. Ripples of pain from Jisung teething at your skin meshed with the pleasure, you didn’t realize how loud you had gotten until you couldn’t hear him nor the skin on skin anymore.

Body shaking, coveting for the high and well on its way, you snuck your hands into his hair and hardly needed to tug to have Jisung’s head falling back and looking up at you through his lashes. His thrusts kept a steadier rhythm, digging his heels into the mattress and coercing you into meeting his lips in a jolty, electrifying kiss. Just as your lips met, the tip of his cock hit your soft spot right on target, shoving you face first into the feeling you’d been dying for. Your body tensed and clenched around him, fucking you through your orgasm until it eventually subsided.

A bit longer you let Jisung use your body to chase his own, he deserved it for putting up with your sharp tongue. Even that didn’t take very long, Jisung had been fending off his orgasm for over twenty minutes, from even before you took your shirt off.

And when the white light blinded him, Jisung let out a string of curses and your name, hints of whiney whimpers in between. He was exceptionally quick to recover, immediately noting your state of mind and body and helped you to lay down.

You winced as he pulled out and used his shirt to catch any spillage, holding it to your cunt before he airlifted you to the bathroom. You had forgotten whose house you were in, that’s how hazy you’d gotten.

Jisung let you finish your business, kissing your forehead and wiping your body down with a wet rag once you’d called his name to help you back to bed.

The bed in question was beyond messy, fitted sheet undone and comforter on the floor. Did Jisung always sleep with just one pillow? No, there were the other three strewn about the perimeter of the bed, one somehow ending up at the foot of it. Jisung, seeing where your head was at as he set you down to lay back, said, “got a bit carried away, didn’t we?”

“We?” You joked, voice horse. He gave you a wink and ran off to grab some water before retreating into the space next to you.

Neither of you bothered to get dressed, laying naked in one another’s arms as you decompressed together. “You’re not as rough as I thought you’d be,” you admitted, rolling over and throwing a leg over his torso.

“I’m not? Noted,” Jisung raised an eyebrow and kissed your forehead again. “If we’re giving feedback, I’d say Minho is gonna have a hell of a time with you. He’ll like the whole brat thing.”

“Did you?” You look up at him, genuinely just curious.

“That’s not even a question,” he waved it off, scoffing because how could you not tell that he was internally cursing himself for not confessing to you sooner if that was the outcome? “Everything I could ask for and more.”

“I liked the nickname a lot. No one’s ever called me that before.”

“Yeah? It suits you. Cute puppy,” Jisung wrapped his arms around your shoulders and squeezed tightly, knocking the air out of you. “But I’m curious,” his voice dropped just a little. “You think of us? Me and Minho?”

“Well— yeah. And honestly, I thought the roles would’ve been reversed.”

“You think he’s a top? Oh, sweet, sweet, baby.” Jisung pecked loving kisses to the top of your head, “he’s half a power bottom at best.”

“To be fair, I didn’t even know he liked girls,” the whisper in your tone softened along with Jisung’s touch, moving to gently run his fingers through your hair.

“He’s the real pillow princess, baby. You might have to knock some sense into him.”

Smirking up at him, “you’ll let me?”

“I’ll let you do anything you want to him.”

“Mmm, you wouldn’t mind if I mark him up?” Jisung’s eyebrow raised, intrigued, “let me cover him in pretty bruises?”

“I’d kill to see that, pup.” You were being smothered in kisses once more, closing your eyes and falling victim to his sweet touches. “But tell me what else you think about. You’ve piqued my interest.”

“You want me to tell you that I fantasized about my best friends making out?”

“Duh. Me, though, tell me what you think about me.” You could just tell he was wiggling his eyebrows with a sly smirk.

You groaned, “in the morning. Tired.”

Jisung took hold of your shoulders and shook you side to side, whining, “nooo, puppy, pleeease? Just a few compliments then I’ll leave you alone, I swear.”

Protests went in one ear and out the other with him, not letting you lay still until you gave him what he wanted. “You’re so lucky I like you, fucking menace.”

“Just like?” His mouth fell open into an “O.”

“Love. I love you.”

It was a lot easier to say when you had your face buried in his chest, not having to look him in the eye as you did. You knew that if you had been looking at him, you might’ve broken into tears, which would’ve made Jisung cry, too. That still didn’t stop your face from heating up and being hit with another rush of emotions.

“How much?” He teased, thankfully not seeing your eyes glaze over.

“I love you a lot. Like, a monumental amount and… Min, too. It’s scary,” your voice falling short and nuzzling your cheek into his skin.

Jisung let you take your time to slow your breathing again before he spoke, “I’d kiss you but I’m scared if I look at you, I’ll cry like a baby.”

“I know you will. Just hold me?”

He did, tighter, if that was even possible. “I will, just like this. Except when Min’s here, he’ll be right behind you to keep your cute booty warm when you fall asleep. You won’t have any space to move ‘cus neither of can stand to not be touching in some way. You’ll probably overheat and be on the verge of death by heatstroke, we give off heat like fucking furnaces. I’ll have a little snack on my side table in case you get hungry in the middle of the night, or you can roll over and get a few cuddles from Min, I won’t be upset, cross my heart.” You giggled at that. “We can move into his place since we all know he has the biggest bedroom, or we can look for another place to fit all three of us and give you a nice, big closet. Every night, we can take turns cooking and let Min throw a fit when we both burn the food so he ends up cooking for us anyways…”

Your chest was filled, warm and sickeningly sweet with the words Jisung continued to whisper in your ear until you eventually fell asleep. The nauseating feeling of waiting, wondering was nowhere near now that there was a clear landing for where you stood in their established relationship, at least, for now.

A/N: YAYAYAYAY phase one!!! idea: 10/10, execution: 4/10...I've been having a hard time connecting ideas lately and I think it's just stress but I'm hoping this lived up to expectations ://

feedback!! feed me!! I love love love hearing what you all think! it really does help me improve as a writer, even if it's constructive!

reminder to drink water, eat three meals a day, give your loved ones a hug. < 3

tags: @sensitiveandhungry @babebatter @aliferousminho @changbinluvr @epiphanynaffit @fawnpeaks @linovely @dumplinbokkieracha @finnydraws @naturules @djeniryuu @hamburgers101 @skzhomiehopper @yesv01 @hyunjinsamdl @angelica-erin-caelius @dazzlingligth @lvrmin @alexis-reads-fics @linaliskz @0002linoskitten

story tags: @bookwyrm28 @ladylexis @blankdyean @sujurunaway @mal-lunar-28 @pussy-drunk @bangchxnnie @lyramundana @bumblebee-zone @bloopreads @propertyoftoru @ana-stasssiaaa @iheartjozzy @kurxxmi

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thewertsearch · 6 months ago

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EB: and now i have all these sweet wind powers. EB: which is how i am making this car fly! GG: ohhhhhh! GG: that makes sense GG: dave had mentioned you reached the god tier

I think it’s funny that becoming a god hasn’t changed John’s personality, nor his modus operandi. He’s just as meandering as he's always been, and reaching the God Tiers simply enhanced his ability to meander.

If your Title does relate to your personality, then this would make a lot of sense. Perhaps you always get a power that helps you follow your own natural inclinations.

GG: but he did not say what it involved D: GG: he probably didnt want to make me worried EB: maybe, or he was just being some sort of aloof coolkid. GG: or that!

It’s nice that John and Jade are fully on the same page in this conversation, with access to more or less the same information. That’s pretty rare in this session, and it’s particularly rare with Jade.

For a long time, she was in the lonely position of knowing more than everyone else - and then, when Descend ruined everything, she was forced into the equally lonely position of understanding jack shit. When John declared that they needed to get Jade into the loop, there was real weight behind it, and it’s gratifying that we’re finally here.

GG: i wonder what space powers would be like?? […] GG: oh well EB: maybe you shouldn't rule it out though? EB: i mean, you did mention your dream self isn't COMPLETELY dead, remember?

I’ve been thinking about this.

See, the main problem with a Jade/Jadesprite merger is that when John died on his Quest Bed, he was completely supplanted by his Dream Self. There was no more Real John.

This wasn't a problem for him, because both Johns appeared to be the same person, with the same memories and consciousness. When John abandoned his realself, he didn't lose anything, apart from his sylladex.

Dream Jade, however, has completely diverged from Jade. They're clearly different people – so if one of them was erased in the merger, we’d be losing a unique individual.

Yes, if Jade died on her Quest Bed, her two selves might fuse into one entity, with both sets of memories - but there's no guarantee, especially when a Sprite is involved. There's a decent chance that Jade's ascension would destroy one of her incarnations, and that's too great a risk.

GG: why dont you tell me about your new friend? GG: he sure seems to be enjoying that horn! […] EB: he is just this silly guy i met when i woke up here. EB: he seemed to be curious about me and followed me around for a while. […] EB: also, another thing about him… EB: he has the queen's ring! […] GG: thats great! john you have to get that ring from him! EB: i've tried! i asked him politely for it and everything. EB: but he is very protective of it!

The Ring would be incredibly useful, if it wasn't destined for Earth.

As it stands, any attempt to use it is fraught with risk - and permanently separating it from WV would almost certainly doom the timeline.

EB: i think he is supposed to keep it. GG: you do? EB: yes. once i saw something in the clouds. EB: it was hard to tell what was going on, but i saw him! EB: im pretty sure it was the future, and he had the ring, and… […] EB: and then the cloud stopped showing me. EB: but i am pretty sure that some day… EB: he will have to wear it!

It doesn’t sound like John actually saw WV wearing the Ring. Seems more like he saw him holding the Ring, and jumped to the 'obvious' conclusion.

WV held the Ring for his entire Exile, and never used it once. I’m actually a little skeptical that he will wear it, at this point, especially since he's started dreaming about how much he doesn't want the thing.

#homestuck liveblog #full liveblog #act 5.2 #3417 #s123

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fae-renjun · 5 months ago

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OPPOSITE SIDES OF THE CAMERA — h.sh

ep. 11 — take a chance with me [𖦹 wc: 830+]

previous | masterlist | next — (listen to take a chance with me by niki for the ideal experience)

“that’s it for today guys! all of you did a great job, i can’t wait for us to start shooting tomorrow!!” the rest of the cast said their goodbyes and shuffled out of the room. wonbin shot seunghan a knowing look just as taesan wiggled his eyebrows at you before both musicians left for uni band practice for the upcoming end of year concert, followed by yizhuo who said something about having to style the band. sungchan, shotaro and eunseok said their goodbyes and filed out as well, patting seunghan on the back as they did. sohee and anton walked up to seunghan, holding back laughs as they gave him a hushed pep talk.

you were too distracted by your conversation with karina and leehan about scenes that might need to be changed to notice seunghan’s nervous glances towards you as his two younger friends left the room. as you finished your discussion with your friends and closed your binder with notes on the film, leehan looked over your head and at seunghan, giggling before leaving the room and dragging karina with him before she could say more than “have fun!”

you spun on your heel to face seunghan, “so.”

“so?”

“where are we going?”

“oh! yeah sorry. um. we’re going to kwangya cafe first, and then, would you want to see a movie?” he said, rubbing the back of his neck in nervousness as he finished his question. you looked at him, holding back a smile, “seunghan i am literally directing a movie right now. do you think i don’t like watching them?”

“oh, yeah,” he laughed in embarrassment. “the local theatre is playing pride and prejudice for its anniversary i think. i remembered you talking about it and i’ve never seen it so i got us tickets.”

your whole face lit up and seunghan was relieved.

you started talking about how much you loved the movie and how excited you were for him to see it as you packed up. he kept listening, asking questions and nodding his head. when you got to the cafe you cut off a short rant about cinematic techniques in romance so you could order, after which you said, “oh my god i’ve just been yapping about movies again. i’m so sorry.”

seunghan laughed and brushed it off, “don’t worry. it’s cute. i like listening to you.”

“oh. well. i wanna know more about you too though.”

so, the two of you delved into a conversation about his dance background, his love for pokémon, and any mutual interests the two of you shared. before you knew it the food and drinks were over and it was time for the film.

in the darkness of the small movie theatre, your elbows bumped against one another on your shared armrest every time one of you reached for the popcorn bucket in between. you kept subtly glancing over, trying to gauge the boy’s reaction to all your favourite scenes, observing as much of his expression as possible with the light from the large screen in front of you. every time you reacted to a scene—giggling when lizzie rejected mr. collins or sighing as you watched darcy’s hand flex for the 127th time in your life—seunghan would look over and wonder why he’d never tried harder to talk to you before now.

seunghan was anything but dry and boring. he launched into a mini-monologue about the movie as soon as the two of you exited the movie theatre, and you were grateful for it. You’d always felt like you were too much for people, you’d been told you talked too much and too fast about the things you loved and were too passionate about movies and making them to pay attention to real life. but you never felt like you were too much around seunghan. more and more each day you were hoping his presence in your life would become permanent, and that it wouldn’t end as soon as the short film was done.

the sky darkened as the sun set while he walked you back to your apartment. when the conversation you had been having came to a lull, you said to him, “you don’t have to do this you know? walking me back to my apartment and all.”

“oh it’s no problem, it’s on the way to my apartment anyway.”

“oh.”

“and i just wanted to,” he finished. you hummed in response, not knowing how to reply. soon, you arrived and said your goodbyes to each other. but as you turned around to open your door and he turned to leave, you spun back towards him, “seunghan?”

“yeah?”

“was this a date?” “only if you want it to be. see you tomorrow, future oscar winner,” he said with a grin, not giving you a chance to process his words and reply before leaving. The final part of his sentence only registered in your head as you walked into your apartment, the thought of it gracing your lips with a smile.

a/n: not that anyone cares but this takes place the same day as the tpwbib prologue :))

taglist (strikethrough = can’t tag): @billiondollarworth @nujeskz @secretiny @soobs-things @talk022 @renjuneoo @flaminghotyourmom @academiq @luffysgfforevaa1 @yujinxue @starwonb1n @icewons @calumsfringe @seunghancore @snowyseungs @yoursyuno @taroddori @miyawwn @https-yeonjun @shoberi @milktea-academia @sseastar-main @p-d1ddy @woonagi-lemon @lilriswife4life @kyusqult @chuutaroo @parkwonbinie @soheendo

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cloveroctobers · 2 months ago

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FEEL LIKE HOME — Dante Torres [October Prompts] 🧡

A/N: The new season just started and I’m already happy seeing my man again. Also??? Kev getting a new love interest? Will it be permanent this time around?? Anyways it’s cozy (also spooky ofc) season so why wouldn’t I write for my man?

PROMPT IS FROM HERE & I’m using: MURDER HOUSE: we just moved into a new home and foolishly staked all of our savings into it. surprise! it's haunted beyond belief. how are we going to turn this house into a home? alternatively one of our muses inherited the house from some distant relative. they just didn't know they'd inherit the ghost living within it too. + GENERAL VIBES: if it’s dark, don’t shine your flashlight into the trees.

WARNINGS: some language, some fluff + spooks! Small talks of religion and practices but I’m not religious or go too deep on it if you’re the same & a somewhat lengthy read!

<- read my previous October anthology prompt here.

✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧ ✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧ ✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧ ✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧ ✩₊˚.⋆

HANK VOIGHT

Dante’s sergeant of CPD’s Intelligence Unit

“People don’t just disappear, you understand me?” Hank Voight exasperates to the producer behind the camera, “I don’t believe in ghost stories and there’s always a explanation for everything.”

The producer questions as the camera crew zooms in on the older man’s face, “If that’s the case…don’t you think you would have found them already?”

Voight tightens his stare and it’s as cold as frostbite from him, for at least a minute before he states, “Who says I won’t?”

✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧

You’re sitting on the set of stairs, knuckles tucked underneath your chin as your eyes zone out on the odd claw? markings on the wall in front of you. You’ve already envisioned placing an old wall clock that you’ve bought from a tag sale there but it definitely wouldn’t be long enough to hide the markings.

“Hey.” A gentle tone, you pick up on gets your head turning but it takes more effort to get your eyes to focus on Dante.

A small smile appears on your lips as you respond, “Hey.”

“Adam and Kevin are grabbing the last of the boxes,” he informs as he stands on the steps that lead right to the entryway and living room, “you okay? Kev thinks you’ve finally crashed out.”

You roll your eyes with a snort of laughter, “I’m fine. Just taking in how real this is…and why i didn’t see any boxes of your own in your car?”

Dante raises his brows, resting his elbow on the side banister, “I…didn’t think you were serious? Just assumed that was tipsy talk.”

Which was fair, you said a lot of things when you had drinks in you. It wasn’t something you did a lot since you were a lightweight but being in a social setting you sometimes engaged and definitely got emotional and touchy.

Pushing off the steps and moving to your right, you hold your hand out as you walk down the few steps that kept you two apart. Dante doesn’t hesitate to grab your hand, holding onto you until your face to face.

“I was—no—am dead serious,” you tell resting your hands on his hips while you stare into his green hues, “You’re the only person I want to make this feel like a home with.”

Dante reaches for your face, pads of his thumbs caressed your skin as his heart began to hammer in his chest, “yeah?”

“No bullshit,” you answer with a shake of your head and a grin, “Even talked it over with Mama Torres.”

There’s a hint of worry that passes over Dante’s eyes and you almost want to laugh in his face as he exhaled, “huh?”

“What?” You head tilts to the side, “You think you’re the only one that gets to be her bestie?”

It’s Dante’s turn to shake his head, “now that kind of makes me nervous.”

You laugh, “Would it make you feel better if we were beefing?”

“Hell no.” Is Dante’s immediate response, “…I do wish I was part of that conversation though.”

“It wasn’t me being sneaky, I promise! I mentioned bringing it up at dinner before as you know…yet a few of your cases took longer some days. So I ended up blurting it out since Mama Torres brought up a certain topic.”

Dante closed his eyes only imagining what his dear mother said to you, “oh no.”

“Relax courage.” You tease, “It’s a valid topic.”

“Which is?” He pressed, peering at you from underneath his eyelashes.

“Our future.”

He’s goes quiet, rubbing at the back of his neck now, feeling some pressure about that. Dante’s always been a go with the flow kind of guy and you’ve been together for about two years now. He would be a foolish man if he said he never thought about what a future with you would look like. You were both in your thirties and although you had a somewhat traditional way when it came to marriage, you weren’t asking for a ring yet…just another level to your relationship is all.

Continuing on you ask, “Yup…so you’ll think about it? Mama Torres gave her stamp of approval and already said for you not to worry about her but knowing you, you’ll need more reassurance from the source.”

Dante breathed out a smile, “Guilty. You know me so well.”

“I do.”

Dante hums, reaching out for you again. He lightly grips your chin, “Getting to share a whole house with you…is a big step. I wouldn’t mind that and it wouldn’t be much to think about, honestly.”

“Yeah?”

He presses a tender kiss to your lips, almost savoring the taste of you, like he commonly did. “Yeah,” he repeats, “No bullshit.”

You both laugh into each other’s faces before some clearing of throats are heard behind Dante. The buzzed haired man turns as if he’s just been caught red handed while you keep one hand rested behind his neck, finger tempted to trace one of his many tattoos.

“Now that you’re done eating each other’s faces,” Adam starts while Dante rolls his eyes, “We came to let the Missus know, our services are done for the day—

Kevin knocks his knuckles against Adam’s shoulders, “uh uh you’re not supposed to say for the day man, you gotta really sell it so she don’t ask for nothing else.”

“Oh yeah, you’re right, my bad.”

“You two ain’t shit, you know?” You joke, moving to get off the steps, “whatever happened to, ‘whoever Dante loves, we gotta love and consider them family too?’”

Adam frowns looking over at the brown skinned man, “I don’t recall ever saying that, your ass must have said that.”

Kevin pushes his lips out in thought and then admits, “I may have said that once.”

“Ah, so this is your fault?” Adam points with a laugh.

Kevin places his hand on his own chest, “there ain’t nothing wrong with spreadin’ the love, something Dante here isn’t afraid to do clearly.”

Dante scoffs, “alright, you two need to get off our backs.”

“You should really start a hugging and kissing business.” Adam instigates, “Seems like you really know what you’re doing.”

Dante smirks, although his cheeks are burning, “yeah, I think I could teach you a thing or two. You are the one that’s getting married and I’m sure you want to stay married, right?”

“Got ‘em!” Kev laughed into his balled up fist while Adam sends Dante a playful middle finger.

Adam scoffed while Dante held out his hand for them to embrace each other by the chest, “Kim don’t got any complaints, trust me.”

“Ew alright, we’ve both heard enough! Thank you.” Kevin cringes as he refers and glanced at you, “we just wanted to let you know you’re all clear, good luck with all those damn boxes you got over this place. Whatchu thinking about doing? Opening an outlet mall here instead of a home?” He pokes fun at you while you mock him talking with your hands, “Anyway! We got to get down to the station and I’ll be sending you my medical bills within the next two to three business days.”

Sucking your teeth at the man, you allowed him to embrace you, thanking him for his help while he’s the first to exit your house.

“No seriously? Why do you need so much shit?” Adam questions, holding you by the shoulders, “Maybe it’s time for a tag sale?”

You fire back at the brunette, “Are you going to help with that?”

The bearded man pretends to think about it, “how much profit we talking?”

He grins at you as you give him a blank expression before you hug him goodbye as well.

Letting out a sigh, you twirl around on one leg to face the living room. The couch and the sofa were all arranged the way you wanted them— after the first three arrangements. You had a tv stand that had barn doors that you really loved but started to think about what the tv would look like mounted on the wall and the floors? You wanted new floors as soon as possible, thankfully the man next door, who actually helped Dante a few days ago getting most of your items in while you had to work was a flooring and carpet installer. He gave Dante his business card so you figured you’d give him a call sometime this week if you didn’t run into him.

There were so many possibilities to this place. You never owned a home before and to have a distant relative that you met maybe once or twice at a family reunion years ago, really surprised you when you received a call that changed your life.

Hands tightly wrapped around you waist, caught you off guard before you felt familar lips kiss on your neck. “What’re you thinking about, pretty girl?”

Your hands go to rest along Dante’s, “that we have so much to do and I need to make a list like Kim suggested. She already helped me pick out paint swatches for a few of these rooms.”

“Course she did,” Dante comments with a laugh, his lips pressed against your temple, “you know we don’t have to have it all figured out today right? Things take time.”

“Well my great-great aunt Gladys didn’t have the time.”

“Wasn’t she almost one hundred and five?”

“That’s not—the point is time is an illusion.”

Dante frowns, “who said that again?”

“Albert Einstein.”

Dante nods, “okay my little theorist. I can sense that you’re about to stress yourself out and I think I can help with that?”

You whip around to face him, “you’ll start ripping up these floors for me?”

The buzzed haired man quickly shifts his attention to the floor, “that would be a negative on my part. I got a better idea and it starts with this.”

His hands rest low on your hips, fingertips touching your tailbone before he leans forward to kiss the corner of your lips and then over to your mouth.

“Oh…now I see where you’re going with this.” You laugh against his mouth, hands locking around the back of his neck before kissing him back. It’s truly magnetic, how you both knew how to set the pace and how it felt like your lips were made just for one another.

Dante hums as he pulls away to bury his face against your neck again. “I knew you would,” his soft voice is a bit huskier now that he set the mood, “Since I’m here and don’t have to be to the station until the evening…would you let me help you christen the place?”

You shudder feeling his tongue against your skin, hoping to it feel it much more anywhere else on your body as you say, “I thought you would never ask.”

He pulls back to grin at you, slight gap in between his front teeth gleam at you as he scoops you up bridal style, leading you upstairs to where only your bed and tons of boxes remained.

✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧

ADAM RUZEK

Dante’s friend/co-worker at CPD’s Intelligence Unit

“Did you think there was ever any sense of regret from Dante taking on this big step?” The producer asks the man who’s seated with his elbow resting on the arm of the chair, fingers caressing his facial hair in thought.

Adam feels his brows trying to meet, “Regrets? No. He loves that girl. Worshipped the ground she walked on and she looked at him like he put the damn stars in the sky. Were there nerves on Dante’s part? Definitely since this is probably his second most serious relationship. He wanted to be there and loved that he had someone to get home to.”

“Is there a chance that it all got too much way too soon?”

“Meaning what?” Adam quizzed, “I hope you’re not implying what I think you’re implying.”

The set goes quiet before the producer expresses, “It’s just a thought and I would hope as law enforcement you all would consider the worst case scenarios…even if you don’t want to.”

Adam bites down on the inside of the back of his bottom lip, feeling the frustration in his veins, “As law enforcement, you should be lucky that any of us are even bothering to give you the time of day to discuss this on going investigation.”

They’re scrambling now, “We do appreciate you being here Officer Ruzek but is it truly ongoing if it’s been months? Shouldn’t you start considering that either they’re dead or Dante is behind—

“Okay, if you’re going to continue to disrespect everything I say, without knowing the first thing about Dante’s character, then I’m not going to do any more interviews. You can take these wires and shove em—

No signal is shown.

✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧

Crossing your arms, you lightly twisted your body back and forth as you awaited for the inspector to get upright from the ground. Dante is squeezing your shoulders, running his hands down your arms trying to get the tension out.

It had been a month and a few weeks since he’s moved into the home and you couldn’t be more in bliss with Dante being here. Although you got to enjoy the house more so since you had a hybrid schedule, there was still a warmth inside whenever you got to see his face around the home. Majority of the time you tried to wait up for him but when you couldn’t, he always made sure to embrace you before eventually climbing into bed.

Him being here with you now as the fall foliage settled in, almost made you collapse backwards (into his arms instead of the leaves) once the man wrote down the estimate of the damage and held it up for you two to see.

“Three grand for that?” Dante inquired, keeping one arm around your waist and taking the yellow paper with his other hand.

The inspector with the backwards cap and who loudly chomped on his gum scoffs, “You two must be new home owners. This house shit? Is never no walk in the park. This is an older home and they should have used concrete for the foundation instead of this crap. Then you’re going to need an exterminator to get rid of the termites in the cracks and crannies…so yeah three grand and that’s just for my part not including the service fee.”

“I’m going to be sick.” You pull away from Dante, moving to head up the stairs and through one of the doors to enter the home, leaving Dante to deal with the smart ass inspector.

You’re seated at the dining table, cheek resting in the palm of your hand and a mason jar full of water.

“Hey,” Dante greets sitting across from you, “it’s going to be fine.”

You shake your head in incredulity, “digging into my savings and yours isn’t fine to me. We’re remodeling and trying to make this feel like home but every time we try to do something new, it’s mostly a problem and it’s making my stomach cramp like crazy.”

Dante reaches for your hand to hold, “You know it doesn’t take doing all of this work to make a home right? It’s the people inside of it who know how to love and fill it up with love that make it a home.”

A crooked smile appears on your mouth then, “You’re not making my stomach feel any better with the cheese you just served me, Torres.”

“Maybe you should finally try those probiotics Violet and Lizzie left here then.” Dante suggests, which actually wipes the smile from your face while a sob rips through your lips instead.

They were your paramedic friends that wanted to throw you a house warming party but you kept telling them that the house wasn’t ready.

Bewildered Dante gets to his feet, pulling your head against his torso, “that was a stupid joke, I’m sorry.”

“You have nothing to be sorry for! It’s not your fault this house is as old as my great-great aunt.” You bunched up his white t-shirt, which you shouldn’t have been able to do if he had his jacket zipped up!

The temperatures been dropping nearly every other day and this man thought it was cool to just be outside in a shirt and jeans but you weren’t having it, you threw a puffer jacket over his face earlier just as the doorbell rung signaling that the inspector was here.

Dante frowns, “I thought this was built in 1952?”

You wail, which only makes Dante’s concern increase and he knows in this moment he can only shut up and hold you, hoping that at some point you’ll be able to laugh about this.

And that laughter would turn into fear, which beat sorrow any day.

✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆

A week passed when Dante got a call one late night when he and Kevin stayed back to work on a case. He wouldn’t lie and say he and Kevin weren’t goofing off, for about ten minutes until that light hearted moment changed into something unexpected. It was after ten pm, twenty minutes until eleven when your face popped up on his phone.

“Hey baby, what’re you still doing up?” Dante asked, resting his elbows on his desk.

Kevin leaves to use the restroom, squeezing Dante’s shoulders on his way by as he calls out your name in greeting before carrying on.

“Dante…” there’s shuffling on your end and he figures you must have him on speaker phone, “you didn’t rearrange the recreation room did you?”

He shakes his head then remembers you can’t see him, “No…why?”

“I heard something when I was in the living room, coming from downstairs. I turned into you and investigated. Everything downstairs was rearranged: gym equipment and mini fridge.”

“…Are you pranking me?”

“No. Why would I do that?”

“Because you want me to stop working late hours to watch those scary movies with you…wait…that’s probably what this is. Your mind playing tricks on you and everything’s fine—

His phone pings and he has to look away to see that it’s a text from you. He sighs, putting his phone on speaker as well to check out the message you sent him. It was a photo of the lower level of the home and everything was in fact rearranged. There was a possibility that you could have done it, you had strength in you no doubt but a few of the more heavier equipment pieces were questionable.

“…I’d really like it if you stop telling me things are fine when it’s feeling like it won’t be.”

Dante pinched at the bridge of his nose, “okay…I hear you. Where are you now?”

“I locked myself in the room. I’m not going downstairs for anything else.”

He exhales, “okay good. Don’t. I’ll be home by eleven-fifteen.”

“Um Dante…there’s something else.”

“What is it?”

You’re staring at the living chair you pushed underneath the door knob, “it also sounds like there’s someone pacing the floor.”

Dante feels as if he stops breathing and his pausing didn’t ease the anxiety in you, “It’s an older home, you know the floors creak right? Even with the new hardwood floors. That’s probably just what that is. Stay inside until I get there though alright?”

“Yeah.”

“I love you.” Dante says in an attempt to lighten things up.

You swallow, keeping your eyes locked on the door as you sat up against the headboard of your shared bed, “I love you more.”

“Bullshit.” He teases.

A small smile graces your chapped lips, “No bullshit.”

“A little?”

“No but I love you right back.”

“That’s the answer I was looking for.”

“You’re annoying.”

“Sometimes. I’ll see you soon, don’t move.”

“Believe me, I won’t.” You say, eyes focused on the shadow that’s moving back and forth underneath the door frame.

✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧

KIM BURGESS

Officer at CPD Intelligence Unit/Co-worker of Dante

“Did you ever witness what she was talking about when you visited the home?”

Kim sits up straight in the chair, “Did I ever see anything moving on its own? No. Did the house make weird noises? Yes. It’s an older home, something Dante also tried to justify. She never wanted Adam and I visiting when it got dark out. Especially with Makayla. I mean it’s Chicago so you can never be too sure but something else was going on with her. Whatever was going on in that house was draining her first and I hated that I couldn’t do more as a friend…for both of them.”

“What do you think happened to them?”

“I…don’t know but I know they wanted to reflect the home they found in each other in that house. It just didn’t work out that way.”

✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧

“Everything good with y’all?” Kevin said in a hushed tone as he sat on the couch with Dante.

Dante hums, looking away from what he was writing down on the paperwork. Kevin stopped by to collect some of the files to bring into the station and Dante forgot to fill out the last section so he was trying to finish it up so it would all be good to go. “What do you mean?”

“You know…since the whole seeing feet underneath the door thing happened, however long ago?” The taller man peeks towards the kitchen, spying Mama Torres setting the table and you were nowhere in sight.

Dante looks up from the paper and says, “she…prefers to work at the office now.”

“Damn.”

“It works for her,” Dante shrugs, “But she’s also hanging out more with those paramedics, Violet and Lyla—Lizzie. Who like to have fun.”

Kevin nods, “alright…what’s wrong with that? Anything that gets her mind off whatever’s going on is good isn’t it?”

Dante looks off towards the dining area where his mom just moved from, “Yeah, I’m not mad at that. It’s just that when I am here, she’s not around and I don’t like that it feels like there’s distance between us when there shouldn’t be.”

“Kay…so why don’t you plan something? A weekend getaway, you don’t gotta leave the city or anything if finances are trash right now. Stay at a nice hotel or Airbnb and get that quality time back if you’re feelin’ some type of way.” Kevin encourages while Dante scratches at his head.

Kevin’s aware that something’s been on Dante’s mind. It’s been obvious although he’s good at hiding it but they were a team and each member always knew when something was up. Even if it was something minor, it was there.

“You might be right,” Dante rubs at his mouth in thought, “it could be just what we need.”

“Yup,” Kevin smirks as he holds his hand out for Dante to give him dap, “and you can thank me later.”

“Whatever man,” Dante chuckles before grinning but that is short lived as the sound of yelling and breaking glass is heard.

Both men jump to their feet, rushing into the dinning room and turning to their right. Mama Torres is on her knees in front of you, as you’re holding onto the back of your head crying. The side window in the kitchen is broken, some glass decorating the dark hardwood floor, which invited the crisp autumn air into the toasty home, the garbage can was knocked over on its side, and there appeared to be a strand of hair by your thighs.

“What the hell?” Kevin mutters before Dante springs into action.

Dante crouches beside the two women, glancing between both of them and his own mother appears to be shook herself. One hand touches his mother’s shoulder, while the other touches your knee.

“What’s going on? What happened?” He cross-examined both women but your eyes are clenched as more tears flood down your cheeks.

He turns to his mother, “Ma! What happened?!”

Her same hues meet Dante’s as she whispers from quivered lips, now holding onto the rosary around her neck, “Malvado.”

Which makes him glance back at Kevin who’s highly confused before Dante yanks you into his arms, tucking you underneath his chin, trying to ease your shaking.

Eventually Dante manages to get you up and through the dining room to the bathroom across from it. He gently closes the door behind him, getting you to sit on the toilet while leaving Kevin to talk to his mom.

“Let’s get you cleaned up, okay baby?” He kisses your cheek, rubbing soothing circles along your opposite jaw, “I’ll take care of you.”

He raised his hands to dig through your hair, to examine your scalp but you latch onto his wrist. Fearing that he’s hurt you, he stops his movements to peer down at your watery eyes.

“This isn’t home anymore, Dante.” You swallow the lump in your throat, “It never was.”

Dante didn’t want to believe that.

He knew you were first reluctant to take on this home, since you didn’t know much about this aunt in the first place. It was a huge question mark trying to figure out why she would leave it in your hands but everyone of your family members either told you to not question it and be thankful or that there were other family members that deserved it more. They could have it at this point! You’ve lived in apartments, condos, townhomes, and two-family homes before so to have a single family home underneath your belt was inspiring.

It was not written in stone that you had to keep it for forever but it was something to invest in. Little did you know that it would come at the biggest price.

Losing your sanity.

However there was so much that Dante couldn’t explain and he wished he could.

Dante wished he could make it better for you…no one can say he never tried.

✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧

KEVIN ATWATER

co-worker at CPD’s intelligence unit/friend of Dante

“Can you tell us what you saw that Sunday you stopped by?”

Kevin deeply sighs, “I know that girl was hurt and everybody was freaked out. I know that Mama Torres told me what she saw since Dante and I were in the living room when it went down. Mama Torres said, y/n just came up from the lower level of the home where their gym and laundry room is at and was talking to her. Mama Torres was sideways facing the counter while y/n had her back to the side window.”

While he’s explaining, there’s pictures shown of the kitchen and a reenactment appears as Kevin gives details of the spooky occurrence that happened that day, “Mama Torres said it was something you would see out of those horror films. They were chatting and when she lifted her head to the right, the next thing she knows, y/n is being pulled back so hard that she was yanked off her feet. Her back hit the window but it wasn’t just her body that broke that window. It was some unseen force.”

PICTURES FROM DANTE’S PHONE ARE SHOWN NEXT: images of the broken window, specs of the glass are seen inside the kitchen and outside of the home in the backyard, along with the broken frame, the garbage can was turned on its side, a piece of y/n’s hair sat along the wall underneath the damaged window pointed outwards facing the kitchen, and a few drops of blood were also shown on the hardwood.

“A unseen force?” The producer asks, “How can that be? Are you sure Mrs. Torres wasnt also seeing things?”

Kevin lifts his shoulders, “see…we can keep saying that all we want but after a while that also stops making sense.”

ANOTHER SET OF PHOTOS UPLOADED FROM: Dante’s phone, shows photos of y/n after what took place in the kitchen that day. She’s seated on the toilet, the photo is shot from above showing the bald spot in her scalp along with the bleeding gash. The back of her neck and down towards her shoulder blade shows scrapes in her skin from the glass.

“Did Dante ever see anything?”

“Besides something hurting his girl? I’m sure he did but he never spoke on it. That’s something you’d probably have to ask his ma. All I know is that if they had to get away from that hell that was supposed to be their home? I wouldn’t blame them, not one bit. I just hope they’re alright and they’re far from North Ozanam Ave.”

✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧

After what happened that afternoon, there were no objections about leaving the house behind for a while. If that happened during the day time, then you can only imagine what could have been going on at night. Dante was more in disbelief that he ignored the signs and although he still didn’t see many the actions take place, it was enough to just see the aftermath. The last thing he stared at long and hard (his arms full of duffle bags) was the mark on the wall at the end of the stairs.

His childhood home didn’t necessarily feel any safer, thanks to all the trauma his step-father played a part in but having both of his women under one household gave him some sort of peace. Dante was raised catholic and once he managed to get you to get some rest, he’s in the kitchen talking to his ma who’s got so much incense and sage burning that he feels a tickle in his throat.

“Ma!” Dante flinches once she whacks him for putting out her incense, “it’s getting to me.”

“Good.” She sasses, “whatever that was, I don’t want it latching onto you too.”

“What?” Dante turns his eyes into slits.

“You heard me. It’s connected, preying on her and I don’t want it leeching anymore. We go to church tonight and father will fix this.” The older woman decides.

Dante blinks, not knowing the last time he’s been to church. He had his faith, it’s been on his skin to guide him yet a part of him wonders if it’s all too late. “You don’t need to be out there with us so late.”

“Do you think I’m staying here by myself? No!” She dusted off her hands with a clap so loud it sounded like thunder, “you should have came to me sooner, we could have got a hold of this malvado. It will be work I’m sure but the most high has us all.” She pats his face before stepping back to grab the kettle to pour him some tea.

Being prayed over was not something you were used to but accepted. Your energy was low even with the lavender chamomile tea Mama Torres gave to you. The sleep in Dante’s room had you tossing and turning, covered in sweats but before you knew it, his kind face was a gift to see over these past weeks and you couldn’t help but to hold him and never let go.

You stood outside from the church in the night, while Mama Torres chatted with the father inside and Dante went around the corner to grab the car as the rain started to pelt down over you. Up your hood went as the wind started to pick up, rustling the trees and bringing a chill over your body.

The sound of constant pinging from your phone was heard, from friends checking in on you but you were tired of talking. However you still found yourself pulling your phone out, eyes searching through the rain as you looked out towards the trees. It seemed as if the harder you stared, the more you saw a figure perched between the leaves. With a shaky hand, you mess around with your phone to turn your flashlight on, pointed right at the tree across the street.

And what you saw the longer you kept your flashlight across the street, made you want to scream but no sound came from your lips as the figure seemed to jump down from the tree and onto the ground. Quickly looking from left to right with the flash still on, it felt as if it was moving too fast in a blur of black.

When Dante’s coming around the corner, he sees a hooded you running towards the trees. He looks to his right, seeing his mother standing in the doorway underneath the umbrella that the father is holding, both appearing confused as Dante puts his car in park on the side of the street.

“What did you see?” He yells over the rain.

“It lives in the trees. That’s its home.” The father announces, which makes Dante pull his weapon from his waistband.

He’s not sure what that means but all he knows is that you’ve run off and now he’s running after you.

✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧

CATALINA TORRES

Mother of Dante Torres

The salt and peppered haired woman is seen with her hands clasped, peering down into her lap.

“In your perspective, Mrs. Torres, What do you believe happened to your son and his girlfriend after the night they ran off into the trees? And why did you hold off on this information when officer Atwater knew they were staying at your house?”

The woman lets out a long exhale with her eyes closed before they open and are watery underneath the lights, “Zechariah 11:2. That’s a verse from the Bible. It reads: ‘Wail, O cypress, for the cedar has fallen, for the glorious trees are ruined! Wail, oaks of Bashan, for the thick forest has been felled! Which means no power on this earth can go against God. We are all made from him, each seed he has planted blossoms into a tree. We can all crumble at his command. In simplest terms, he has the last say and that’s what exactly happened. I have faith that he saved my children from the evil.”

“So that’s enough for you? That god has your son?”

“It should be, yes. As long as y/n is no longer hurting then neither is my son.”

“But why lie to those who are also close to Dante? They went back to that house, searched for any clues…when you and father Paul saw them go into the trees?”

She shrugs, “we do not know if they returned or not. Everything that goes up, down, or in between still has the chance to still lurk around this earth if they so wish. Which is what haunted y/n and that house. It gives me comfort, having that image of them at their happiest in that home, slow dancing not long after Dante settled in. That’s all I’ve ever wanted for my son and perhaps the cypress also gave him that.”

Those in the studio were still clueless about this entire episode they were filming for this documentary series but this was part of their job, to share the unexplainable stories.

“Has Dante ever mentioned any of his own personal experiences with that house? Outside of what was going on with y/n?”

Catalina looks almost offended, “Sure he did! The nights when he would be home there by himself, he always saw and heard it. He installed one of those doorbell camera things after the first weird thing she saw and called him about. Dante saw what I believed she saw in those trees that night she was prayed over on camera. He would not show me out of the sake of my heart but I believed him. He’s never given me any reason not to believe in or of him.”

A series of black and white video footage is shown next. It’s night time and the automatic lights flick on as a blur appears by and then on the steps. The tree leaves announce their strange happenings and it continues on with each footage that is shown but within each different date but similar time, the blur takes shape.

It has pointed skinny and many teeth that flashes the camera, almost as if it’s smiling as it shows itself right in front of the door. That image is put on pause, showing the viewers that whatever it is wasn’t human at all.

“My son’s always been a protector since he was young,” Catalina continues, “Always saw what was wrong or right pretty quickly and acted. That often led him into trouble but when he loves so immensely—which he does—he’ll do just about anything to make sure you’re safe.”

“Which is why he ran into the woods after her. Do you have any idea why she ran towards the woods instead of away? And again, why not mention any of this to the intelligence unit?” Another producer interrogates.

Catalina sniffs while pulling out some tissue, “They’re each other’s home and you don’t go knocking where you’re not welcomed. I understand that while many of you don’t and that’s okay. I did not tell the intelligence unit any of that because I know how it sounds. It’s easier just to make me out as a loony to make sense of my son’s whereabouts but the truth is: this is their story and they’re the only ones that know how it ends.”

✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧

“Don’t tell me you’re quitting on me!” Dante says, coming into the living room to see you balled up on the couch, ready to fall asleep, “The night is still young.”

You’ve been unpacking and arranging all day, so a nap was needed.

“Babe.” You stare at him blankly although you’re whining as he puts on some music and loudly too.

Dante mocks you, grabbing onto your hands to pull you from the couch but you hold your ground, which makes him raise his brows at you. “Baaaaabe,” he mocks as he pulls you up by the waist spinning you before setting you down on your feet, “just one dance and I’ll leave you alone.”

“Just like I leave you alone about having more color in your wardrobe?”

He rolls his eyes but can’t help but to laugh right afterwards, “exactly.”

You groan, pressing your chin against his chest as you stare at him with puppy dog eyes. All he does is press a kiss to your forehead, which brings a smile to your face.

“There’s that smile I love so much,” he whispers as you lean back to put your hand in his and rest the other against his bicep.

The dancing always starts off slow before picking up pace but the closeness of the slowness is Dante’s favorite part. He sways with you to the guitar, staring at you lovingly while Mama Torres leans in the archway of the dining room to watch in adoration.

His heartbeat is your favorite tune as you rest your tired head against his chest for a moment, staring out at the window behind the couch, “I hope those trees don’t get any bigger…might have to call someone to cut them down some especially when the bad weather kicks in.”

Dante follows your gaze but you can feel him shaking his head at you, “That mind of yours is always turning, huh? Just relax and look at all that we did already. That’s good enough for now, baby.”

“You’re right.” You sigh, pulling back as he twirls you underneath his arm, “Thanks for being here with me.”

Dante kisses your lips as soon as he brings you back into his chest, “No need to thank me. I love you and I want to be here.”

“I love you right back.” You wink just as the tempo of the music changes to upbeat.

You break out into some moves, chest bumping Dante who actually stumbles back in shock at what you were bringing out. You needed to dance any bad thought that tried to enter your mind and just live in the moment.

So you did as the both of you invited mama Torres onto the living room floor with you and the wide grin that spread over Dante’s face, let him know that his dance skills can never match up to you two but he tried anyway.

Across the street and through the trees, there’s glowing yellow eyes that awaken to watch the family of three in the brick house.

As soon as some headlights from a passing car shines towards the trees, a snarl can be heard from the creature in the night as they recoil into a blur back into the leaves.

HAVE YOU SEEN…?

DANTE TORRES

If you have any info contact: The Chicago Police Department — The Intelligence Unit.

✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧ ✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧ ✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧ ✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧ ✩₊˚.⋆

Continue with my October anthology prompts here.

#queued #chicago pd #chicago pd x reader #dante torres #Dante Torres x reader #hank voight #adam ruzek #kevin atwater #kim burgess #October prompts #spooky prompts #benjamin levy aguilar

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reds-skull · 7 months ago

Text

BLOOD||HUNGER

[PREV PART] [AO3]

The finale! Post script will be uploaded right after this, fair warning it's a damn long one lol

Thank you for reading this far, this chapter is called "Where All Permanence Rests". Enjoy!

Edit: I forgot to add the final poem before, it's fixed now!

Page 67 of the “Blooede Starvatfōre-dēde”, parable 18:

The village people, hearing of the hunter’s fall, Find before them, the Blind man and the Beast, Yet they do not look with malice, they do not fear, As the veil has been taken away, their eyes see truth, That this is no Beast, but a man. The Beast, the Cursed Man, He does not rejoice, for the Blind Man has seen him justly, When all saw a monster.

Isla,

I don’t think I’ve ever written an actual letter, like this. Certainly not in circumstances like these. But this is the most secure way to contact you. I shouldn’t talk to you at all, if we’re being honest, but… I couldn’t just leave without a word.

In the following weeks, or days (depending on when this letter will reach you), you will receive news that John MacTavish is dead. And for all intents and purposes, in all ways but physical, I am dead.

I’m writing this to apologize, and to thank you.

Simon never thought he would return to Mexico by his own volition. Even before Soap, he refused to take jobs anywhere near Central America.

Only Johnny could give him enough strength to be here.

It also doesn’t hurt that they’re not here to fight the cartel.

“déjennos en paz!” a man screams further down the cobbled street. ‘Leave us alone.’

From the American-accented shouts that follow, the man’s pleas are ignored, “donte esta el Irani?!”

A woman joins the man, screaming that they don’t know. Simon continues sneaking past dark roofs. They can’t afford to attack just yet - their target has far too many soldiers in their disposal at the moment.

A couple of shots ring out, making his steps falter. The woman screams in anguish. He closes his eyes, attempting to not sink into the familiar embrace of cold indifference, like his instincts tell him to.

Being more than a weapon has its downsides.

“Ghost?”

“Johnny. Solid?” Simon answers on their private comm line, his partner’s voice relieving some of the uncomfortable ache cinching at his guts.

“Aye. Think I can see ye.”

He looks around for a moment, finding the red skull mask across several rooftops, crimson barely visible in the low light, “did you find any sign of the Vaqueros?”

Simon can almost feel Soap’s frustration from here, “negative. Only thing Ah’m seeing are American bastards and fucking corpses.” he grunts, “feels like the Hunter all over again…”

“Focus, Sergeant.”

“I am, LT.” he watches Soap’s form disappear between buildings, “gonna get on the ground, search for anyone we could rescue.”

“Copy, I’ll keep an eye on Graves.” Simon clicks off, knowing they both need the silence.

I’m sorry I couldn’t be a better brother to you. That I couldn’t take my head out of my arse and simply live a normal life, be normal. I think I never learned how to. But you deserved better. Could you tell maw I’m sorry as well? I don’t think I’ll make it to Christmas in the next… However long I have left to live.

Don’t worry about me (I know you always do, and always will), this is why I wanted to thank you.

After you called, on the day I got the notice of the eviction… I realized I couldn’t do this anymore. Couldn’t pretend I was fine, couldn’t keep this same, soul-crushing monotony, day in, day out.

Laswell contacted them two days ago, asking them to land in Las Almas and keep an eye on an American PMC called “Shadow Company”. They came to Mexico to collaborate with Mexican Special Forces to capture an Iranian and his stolen missiles. On paper, the citizens of Las Almas shouldn’t have been involved at all.

Graves and his Shadows move to another building, where several men have been rounded and lined up against a wall.

Reality never seems to match what’s on paper, when it comes to wars.

The Shadows lift their rifles, and shoot the civilians.

They don’t know what made Graves turn. But that’s not Simon and Soap’s job to figure out. Their only interest is to minimize civilian life loss and rescue the Vaqueros, the Mexican soldiers the Americans betrayed.

A weak voice on the other side of the block catches his attention. Simon makes the split second decision to take his eyes off Graves and investigate.

“No- let her go!” a woman, a mother, screams at a Shadow ripping a child away from her.

The kid in his arms cries, “Mommy! Mommy!”

“What do you think you’re doing, I’m with the police-!”

Simon catches another soldier moving to shoot, and in a flash, he takes hold of two throwing knives, and buries them deep within the Shadows’ throats.

The policeman and his family look at the soldiers fall with horror and confusion. Simon jumps down, revealing himself.

“Find a vehicle, and get out of the city. The Americans are not going to stop until they find what they want.” he grounds, staring at the cop’s eyes.

The mother asks shakily, “what- why are they doing this-?!” but the cop pushes her and the child, nodding grimly to Simon.

He climbs back up not a moment later. A voice in his mind tells him this maneuver might’ve costed him his cover, but alongside it, Simon doesn’t feel regret. He has learned to appreciate any win, no matter how small. And for those people, it is not small.

So I ran. I can’t tell you to where. I can’t tell you what I found there.

But I can tell you who I met. He’s… fuck, how could I describe him?

He was such a cunt at first, you would’ve ripped him a new one. But I learned he was also running away, in his own way. That he’s been running for a long, long time. And when I met him, when we actually started working with each other…

I felt like I was alive for the first time in a year.

“Ghost” Johnny startles him from thought, “found a Vaquero. Yer…?”

“Sergeant Major Rodolfo Parra. Who are you?” a farther voice barely comes through the radio.

“Soap. Laswell sent us.”

“Kate Laswell? Are you with Shepherd?!”

Simon grinds his teeth, “we’re not under anyone’s command, Parra. Not military.”

“You’re… you’re mercenaries?” he can hear Parra curse under his breath, “is it just you two?”

“Aye” Soap answers, “Laswell hasn’t burned ye yet - she asked us to help ye.”

The Sergeant Major seems to sigh in relief, hopelessness coloring his next words, “I’m glad. Though… no.”

He sounds more assured when he speaks again, “my soldiers and Colonel have been captured by Graves. I’ll need any help I can get to rescue them.”

“You got it.” Simon rumbles, “any intel on their location?”

“Negative. Alejandro has a safe house outside the city, I might be able to find out if we get there.”

“Alejandro?” Soap asks.

“My Colonel.” Parra says, noticeably sadder than before.

“We’ll get him back, mate.” Soap attempts to comfort, “Ghost, still got eyes on Graves?”

Simon internally grimaces, “...negative. Had to help some civvies.”

He didn’t expect the pride in Johnny’s voice, but in hindsight he should’ve, “understood. Ye see the church tower from here?”

Simon looks at the far distance, a tall building lit by an orange glow towers over the city, “affirm. Lets RV there.”

“Aye. Keep yerself safe.”

“You too Johnny.”

I don’t know how, but I have the feeling me and him were meant to meet. Not in a soulmate kind of way… I’ve been feeling things like that a lot, since I ran. Like this is where I would’ve always ended up being.

You will not meet me again, most likely. Me and him… Just our presence will put you in danger. There’s a reason they had to kill us both on paper. Can’t tell you what we’re doing that required that, but you know I was never one to stick to things like “rules” and “laws”.

We’re not alone in this, we have allies, people that want to do good, but are stuck in a system that refuses to change to do that good. I wish you never experience the amount of evil truly festering this world, and we are fighting so you never will.

He begins combing the streets for Graves’s trail, mostly tuning out the conversation between Soap and the Sergeant Major. From what he does listen to, Graves’ betrayal seemed to come out of nowhere - they had successfully disarmed a missile not a day prior, having interrogated a cartel lord who aided the Iranian.

They were so close to finishing the mission. Which is why, when the Shadow commander turned around and stabbed them in the back, only Parra managed to shake off the shock and escape.

Graves is still on the hunt for the Iranian, convinced he’s hiding in Las Almas, while also searching for Rodolfo. It won’t look good for business if he can’t wrap up things cleanly, Simon muses darkly. He had enough encounters with PMCs in the past to know how they operate.

He eyes a group of Shadows standing around a couple of fresh bodies, all seemingly focused on their comms.

After a few moments, one of them answers to whoever is ordering them, “I’m here with a few others, sir, we can go search the area for the Mexican.” the soldier pauses to hear the response, “yessir! Let’s go, they spotted him at the northern plaza!”.

The group instantly starts sprinting, Simon following while radioing to Soap, “Johnny, Shadows heading to the northern plaza, said someone saw Parra!”

He hears the Sergeant Major through Soap’s comms, “mierda!”

Simon has to jump over an alley when the roof he’s been running on ended, “I’m on my way to you, can you hold them?!”

Soap huffs in a way that tells him he has something up his sleeve, “we’ll smoke up the plaza, they don’t know Ah’m here.”

He can just imagine Johnny’s sharp grin under his mask, “going undercover, hm? A man after my own heart.”

“Always, Simon.” Johnny whispers, just for his ears. Simon ignores the way it makes a shiver go down his spine.

Up ahead, a plume of smoke rises between buildings. Soap leaves his comms on, letting Simon hear how Johnny takes hostiles down one by one, going quiet until his cover is blown.

In the streets below, more and more soldiers funnel towards the plaza. Simon grits his teeth, pushing his legs to run faster. He will not let Johnny enter a losing fight, not if he can help it.

The shooting abruptly stops, making his heart still. A few moments pass before he can hear Soap’s voice growling, “let him go.”

He can hear the Shadows laughing, a churning noise grating on his ears. Simon slows, keeping to the swaths of darkness.

A half circle of Shadows formed in the plaza, Parra and Soap facing them. In the center, a shadow holds a pistol to a young boy’s head.

Simon doesn’t even attempt to swallow down the disgust that rises in his throat.

“No can do, pal. Drop your weapon and give us the cowboy, or the kid gets hit.”

He drops behind the Shadows, knife slipping down his sleeve silently. With careful steps, he closes in on the center soldier, while Parra curses at them.

Over the soldier’s shoulder, he meets Johnny’s eyes. With no words, they communicate. He waits for Soap’s signal, watching his Sergeant lower himself. To the Shadows, it seems like he’s bending down to place his SMG on the ground, but Simon can almost feel the tension coiling within Soap’s muscles, readying himself to fight.

“Alright, Alright!” Soap shouts, “I’m dropping my gun, just let the boy go.”

Johnny nods minutely. Simon strikes.

In a motion he’s done a million times before, the knife swings in an arc before burrowing into the Shadow’s neck. Simon doesn’t waste any time pushing the body aside, grabbing the young boy and pulling him back.

Soap snarls, righting his gun and spraying bullets to his left, clearing a path for him to take the kid and shove him into cover.

He swings around, ducking under a hostile’s incoming knife, unsheathing one of his own and easily stabbing it into the underside of his jaw. He throws it at another attacking soldier, noticing Soap and Parra being pushed back into a corner.

One of them gets the jump on Soap, the two falling to the ground in a struggle. His heart leaps to his throat, where it shouts, ‘Johnny!’

Simon takes a rifle off of a body, inhales to steady his breath.

Focuses his rage on the targets and shoots.

He drops the gun, rushing to Soap. The bodies on the ground don’t move.

A fast-paced chant screams in his mind ‘where is Soap is he broken is he dead have you failed him-’

“Ngh… Steamin’ Jesus, this fucker’s heavy.” Johnny grumbles, shoving the body covering his off.

Simon stares at him for a moment, before dropping to his knees and pulling him up. He searches for injuries on Soap’s body before two gentle hands stop him.

“Ah’m good, mo chridhe. Solid.” Johnny’s hands don’t let go, instead caressing his bloody palms.

An unexpected wave of emotion crashes into him, filling his lungs with warmth. He doesn’t know if it was the split second moment where he thought Johnny might be dead, or the gentle way he’s now comforting him, somehow always knowing when he’s panicked.

Maybe it’s all of it, that makes Simon blurt out, “I love you.”

And Johnny, despite having the majority of his face covered, looks up at him with so much care, blue eyes almost glowing behind the red mask.

Those eyes crescent with joy, Johnny pushing his forehead to bump against Simon’s in affection.

“I love ye too, Simon.”

And Simon finds himself thinking, that this is what he was meant to be.

Fighter.

Human.

Loved.

I’ll be trying to write as much as possible, but if this is the only letter you’ll ever get…

Just know that if I died, I went down fighting, and I went down with him. And I couldn’t have been happier with the way I lived.

I love you so, so much.

-J.M.

Page 100 of the “Blooede Starvatfōre-dēde”, parable 20:

Where is your destination, now that the curse has been lifted, The Blind Man asks, with nothing but kindness on his tongue. I have no place to belong to, the once-Beast answers, Nowhere, but the path I walk with you, my fallen knight. Then we shall travel together, until we return to the earth, And perhaps, if God is to be so merciful, The paths we take will always, and forevermore, Be only by the side of the other.

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vicsnook · 1 year ago

Text

Ours | Jake Seresin x Reader

word count: 1786

warnings: crying, little conflict, Iceman appearance 👀

song pairing: Ours - Taylor Swift (Taylor’s Version)

notes: Hey y’all! We have officially made it to the end of this little series. I can’t lie, I did put off writing this because then it would be over but now there’s more time for writing new stuff! Thank you for sticking around and your likes and reblogs. I hope you enjoy! Please like and reblog if you don’t mind <3

Elevator buttons and morning air

Strangers' silence makes me want to take the stairs

If you were here, we'd laugh about their vacant stares

But right now, my time is theirs

Things had been great lately with you and Jake. The squad was on board with your relationship and even Maverick approved. This morning you left before Jake woke up as you had a meeting with Cyclone.

The elevator to Cyclone's office was painfully slow and made you even more nervous. Everyone in it was quiet and you could cut the tension with a knife. You wished Jake was here with you.

Finally the doors opened and you made your way down the long hallway. Dread setting in. You had no idea why Cyclone wanted to see you but it couldn’t be good if it was this early in the morning.

Seems like there's always someone who disapproves

They'll judge it like they know about me and you

And the verdict comes from those with nothing else to do

The jury's out, but my choice is you

“Lieutenant L/N, please come in and shut the door behind you.” Cyclone said as you stood in the doorway. You do as you’re told and stand in attention then sit as soon as you’re told to.

“Lieutenant L/N, it’s come to my attention that you’re in a relationship with Lieutenant Seresin. Am I correct?” He asked, his eyes told you he knew the answer already.

“Yes sir.” You replied, feeling more nervous by the second and dreading what you knew was coming.

“Well, in that case you know the rules. Both of you cannot be in the same squadron. When you dated Lieutenant Floyd, you were both in different squadrons so that’s what will have to happen again. Is that clear?” Cyclone stared at you intensely as he waited for your response.

The Dagger squad was the only one that was permanently stationed in Miramar so if you were to be moved you’d probably be stationed elsewhere. Tears blurred your vision as Cyclone cleared his throat still waiting on your answer.

“Will I have to relocate to a different base?” you asked quietly, holding back your tears.

“Yes, there’s an opening in the Spade squadron in Nevada. You will be leaving Friday.” Cyclone stated, and then stood up to open the door for you. “Unless you break off your relationship with Lieutenant Seresin. In that case there’s no need for relocation. But I take it that’s not something you’d like to do?”

“No sir.” You replied as you stood up shakily and headed out the door practically sprinting down the hall. Reaching the elevator you decided on the stairs instead. Sitting on the steps finally you let yourself cry. Everything was finally working out and now you’d have to leave and who knew for how long.

—

Driving back to Jake’s apartment you tried to hide the fact that you’d been crying. He instantly knew though as soon as he looked at you. Rushing to hug you as you collapsed in his arms and sobbed once more.

“What’s wrong honey?”Jake asked, concerned filled his voice as he rubbed your back.

“I’m being re-stationed.” You managed to choke out in between sobs. Feeling his body go tense at your confession.

He led you to the couch and you tried to collect yourself as best as you could. Explaining to him why and when.

So don't you worry your pretty little mind

People throw rocks at things that shine

And life makes love look hard

The stakes are high, the water's rough

But this love is ours

“Baby, don’t worry. We’ll figure someone out. Let me talk to Mav.” Jake said, squeezing your hand reassuringly.

“I doubt there’s anything he can do Jake.” You whispered back. He pulled you to his lap and you hugged his neck. Tears filled your eyes as you wondered how long it’ll be until you could do this again after Friday.

Both of you got ready for work quietly. Jake kissing you every moment he got. The drive to work was quiet which was unusual for you both.

Jake immediately pulled Maverick as soon as you both got to the hangar. You sat with the rest of the squad and explained the situation. Everyone of them became upset at the news and vowed to find a solution.

You never know what people have up their sleeves

Ghosts from the past gonna jump out at me

—

Jake and Maverick talked for what seemed like a long time then Maverick stepped out to make a call. Jake smiled at you reassuringly and gave you a thumbs up. All you could hope for was more time with him. You still doubted anything could be done to prevent this.

Maverick had you all do exercises while he went to speak to someone. Jake still hadn’t told you about their conversation. You tried to shake the thoughts out of your head as you shot down Rooster and won the dog fight.

You landed quickly as Maverick came through the comms and asked you to meet him in the hangar. Hurrying towards him you saw a man who looked vaguely familiar by his side.

“Peach, come on, let's go inside and talk.” He said as you reached them. You recognized the man with him as Tom “Iceman” Kazansky.

You hoped this would be a good conversation since you knew Iceman had a lot of pull at the base. Especially after seeing him save Maverick from being discharged after he disobeyed Cyclone on the Uranium mission training.

And it's not theirs to speculate if it's wrong and

Your hands are tough, but they are where mine belong

“Peach, this is my good friend Iceman. I’m sure you’ve heard a lot about him.” Maverick said as you shook Iceman’s hand.

“It’s a pleasure to meet you sir.” You said, taking a seat beside him.

“Likewise. Now as you know dating a teammate is not exactly something we encourage. However it is not up to Cyclone to remove you from the squadron over speculation.” Iceman said, your eyebrow raising in question to what he meant.

“You see Peach, your dating Seresin is just speculation. Maverick has told me you are both very private about your relationship. So there’s two possible solutions to this issue.” He continued,with you nodding along.

“Keep your relationship quiet and strictly professional on base. I will speak with Cyclone and make this restationing nonsense go away.” He finished.

“What’s the other solution?” You asked curiously.

“That you and Seresin end your relationship.” He responded, you swallowed hard at his answer.

“I take it you prefer the first solution.” He stated. You nodded in response.

“Perfect. I’ll go speak with Cyclone. Now remember, be strictly professional on base and keep everything under wraps. That includes outings near base and social media. Understood?” He asked.

“Yes sir.” You replied, shaking his outstretched hand and then following him out the door.

—

Maverick said after Iceman left that you should expect to hear from Cyclone’s tomorrow. You thanked him and then headed towards the squad.

“So?” asked Rooster as you sat down.

You explained everything and they all cheered. Jake’s face was somber at your mention of having to keep everything secret. You tried to smile at him reassuringly but couldn’t get him to meet your eye.

That afternoon Nat dropped you off at home to keep up appearances and once inside you headed for a much needed shower. You called an uber soon after and headed to Jake’s just like you’d done in the past. Feeling like you took 3 steps back in your relationship.

Raising your hood up, you made your way up the stairs and kept your head down. He let you in quickly after you knocked. Sadness filling his face as you sat on the couch as you did this morning.

“Talk to me.” You said as you placed his hand in yours. They fit perfectly.

“I just hate having to hide our relationship again. I feel like we’re back to step 1.” He said, exasperation in his tone.

But they can't take what's ours

They can't take what's ours

“Jake, I know it's not ideal but it won’t have to be like this forever. My contract ends in less than a year. We won’t have to hide anymore.” You replied, trying to reassure him.

“Darlin’, I thought you were staying in?” he asked, his green eyes on yours as he spoke.

“I was but not like this. I won’t let them break us over some stupid rule. I know that things will be rough for the next couple of months but we’ll be fine.” You answered, pulling him into a hug.

“But I don’t want you to leave the Navy over this. You love flying.” He countered, pulling away to look at you.

“I love you more than flying Jake. Plus I can do that elsewhere. Also not having to wear my hair in a bun everyday is a bonus.” You replied.

He pulled you in for a kiss as you finished talking. Feeling yourself melt into him as he held you impossibly close.

“I love you, Peach.” He whispered, as you both pulled away. Both of you smiling knowing it would all be okay.

—

Your phone ringing woke you up. Cyclone’s name flashed on the screen as you sat up and pressed answer.

“Hello?” You said, as you got up and headed to the kitchen to not wake up Jake.

“Lieutenant L/N, I’ve been informed that I was mistaken in the information I was provided in regards to you and Lieutenant Seresin. Seeing as I’ve been assured by Captain Mitchell nothing is going on between you and Lieutenant Seresin, you may disregard our previous conversation.” He said, you felt your face break into a smile at the news.

“Yes sir, thank you.” You replied.

“You’re welcome. Goodbye,” said Cyclone, then he disconnected the call.

You ran back to the room and shook Jake awake. Giggling at his hair that stuck up in all directions.

“What’s going on?” he muttered, slowly sitting up.

“I spoke with Cyclone, it worked! I’m staying!” You told him excitedly.

He pulled you to him as soon as you finished your sentence, engulfing you into a hug. You pulled your face back and pulled him in for a kiss. Giggling as he pulled you to lay back down on top of him.

You knew things weren’t going to be easy but you both had been through so much already and made it through it even better. So even though The stakes were high, the water's rough, this love is yours.

taglist: @harperdoodle, @weirdothatwritess, @rosiahills22

#top gun fandom #top gun maverick #jake hangman seresin #jake seresin x reader #jake seresin imagine

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radioactivewisdom · 6 months ago

Note

How do you deal during the times when you have to be around people and have no choice in it? I'm only really around people at work, I don't socialize at all. I used to be very insecure and envious of the friend groups and cliques among my coworkers. A lot of FOMO and wanting the validation of being included in something, when it seemed like I was automatically excluded. I had a few friends growing up, as a child I was very confident, outgoing and friendly. But even then the friendships always seemed to go wrong and the little girls I was friends with seemed insensitive, and even tyrannical in a way. As a young adult I had a lot of social anxiety and always worried about what others thought of me even though I never actually liked them. I've gotten over wanting to be accepted or liked by these people, I know that they aren't shit. I feel like I have a much better read on them, which lessens my anxiety. But as my anxiety lessens I ironically feel even more intolerant of them, more annoyed, irritable, etc because I see through them and their fakeness aggravates me. I feel fake sometimes too because I still have to play nice on the surface to avoid drama. I want to be in my own bubble, emotionally separate from people even when I have to be around them. And in a way I am, but they still manage to influence my mood and make me question myself, make me sad, angry, etc. How do you prevent others from ruining your mood and stay separated from them?

I have complete faith in my beliefs, which makes it easy for me to disconnect. I no longer feel much of anything except empathy for those who are still stuck. The potential for true connection still exists, and I always remain polite, even to those who I disagree with. Perhaps I’m also lucky to have always preferred spending time with myself. I’m able to retreat and find comfort within my own mind no matter the circumstances.

It’s not uncommon to want to connect, and I truly sympathize with your past feelings of exclusion. Groups present the most trouble though, and it’s better to make even one genuine connection in this life than to get caught up in larger dynamics. The little is the big, and you’ll see the same power plays that are attributed to larger societal structures playing out in those crowds.

I once felt irritated with others, and even outright disdain. I suggest you feel all of this, as I think the only way out is through. Suppressing feelings, even if negative leads them to bubbling back up later on. After some time, you’ll come out of it and positive feelings will emerge in place. My past anger was actually super important to reaching new understanding and arriving at newfound happiness.

I suggest that you lean into one of your gifts and spend more time with yourself emotionally. Some people find mantras to be silly, but they actually helped me a lot on my journey. We internalize so much from the outside world, and even with new insight, making these changes permanent can take time. Especially when feeling overwhelmed, I would repeat to them to myself. “I am above this and it does not serve me,” “My happiness comes from within me,” and “what is meant for me will come.” I don’t believe this requires any metaphysical or spiritual beliefs to work either, you’re positively reinforcing your brain which leads to changed behavior.

Patience is key as the process isn’t always quick, nor easy. I once hit rock bottom and truly believed I’d never come out of it because I was overcome with despair about this world. It took a few years, but I am genuinely the happiest I have ever been in my life. I wake up excited even knowing I have a boring day ahead, and the right connections have found me. I hope anything I’ve said can be of help to you. You’ve arrived at so many right conclusions and have heaps of potential. You can make this life work for you, and even have fun despite the circumstances :)

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saturnine-saturneight · 3 months ago

Text

Writeblr interview tag

Tagged by @tragedycoded [here] 💕

I thought I was going to sleep a little longer this morning, but looks like I'm up for good, so off we go. Good time to answer this.

Short stories, novels, or poems?

Novels (working on one) or poems (used to write a lot of them). I'd love to try my hand at short stories, though!

What genre do you prefer reading?

I am not a voracious reader. I used to be, I'd like to be that again, but right now, I am not. Those posts that are like 'if you want to write you need to read'? Those are about me.

When I do read fiction, it's usually detective fiction. Easy to digest, no greater emotional investment. I also love horror, but haven't read much of it in the past few years.

Most of the things I read nowadays are nonfiction, generally medical or political (or a Wikipedia article in the middle of a conversation to clear up a question), though I also love reading about monsters and fables.

Are you a planner or a write as I go kind of person?

I go back and forth on this question. I'm a planner in that I know what I want from a novel or a chapter, and then a write as I go-er when it comes to getting there.

What music do you listen to while writing?

Less of a specific genre and moreso just songs I know in and out so I don't pay too much attention to them! Often on repeat. This is even more extreme when I draw. I drew those chibis I posted the other day to the living tombstone's cat song, lmfao.

Favorite books/movies?

I love horror comedies. Beetlejuice, death becomes her, little shop of horrors. Things like that. Nope was also incredible and has stuck with me, but that's not a comedy.

Any current WIPs?

Just Reburial :) I like to focus.

If someone were to make a cartoon out of you what would your standard outfit be?

Oversized black T-shirt, grey jeans, black converse. Phone in hand, headphones always either around the neck or being worn. I'm boring 🤘

Create a character description of yourself:

Jules stands at average height, their blond hair reaching down to their back, their face caught in a permanent expression of mild worry. They talk too fast, always fidgeting.

Do you like incorporating actual people you know into your writing?

Archetypes and ways of speaking/thinking/acting, yes. Whole people, no. I always mix and match traits I've gotten to know in others and myself, and I pay close attention that I don't write 'in attack mode', meaning portraying certain mindsets as negative after someone annoyed me.

Are you kill happy with your characters?

I'm not! Side characters die in Reburial, but I don't enjoy killing characters I like if it means that I can't use them in the same story again afterwards.

Coffee or Tea while writing?

I'm a tap water kind of guy ✌️ Caffeine gives me heart palps.

Slow or fast writer?

Medium? I don't make an effort to write fast.

Where/who/what do you draw inspiration from?

The majority of my horror comes from things that I personally find scary. When I get scared of something, I start reading, thinking, and talking about it, trying to understand it from all angles. And then sometimes, that also includes writing about it to see what exactly makes that fear tick, where it comes from, and which components are important to elicit the emotions. Fear based special interests, hahaha.

If you were in a fantasy world, what would you be?

Some kind of imp or a puss in boots type of creature.

Most fav book cliche:

You know what, I have no idea. Nothing comes to mind.

Least favorite cliche:

I am, however, a little hater. There are a lot of romance clichés on this list, which is a genre I tend to avoid. (I'm fairly greyro ace and would count myself as that if I wasn't also engaged.) If I do read A Romance, it's always with something else going on, and even then I get annoyed often, haha. I want two or more characters to be profoundly, boundary blurringly weird about each other. I don't want to read that they locked eyes across the room and now I'm supposed to believe that they should be partners for life because they find each other attractive.

There are also countless fantasy tropes on this list. Chosen one stuff, holy wars against pure evil, stories with 'good kings', the list goes on. You have to be REALLY good to make me read fantasy.

Favorite scene to write?

I just really like writing dialogue. Banter, arguments, confessions, etc.

Reason for writing?

It's fun. 👍 I daydream about putting Reburial on Itch for free when it's done, illustrated and type-set, but that's as far as my publishing aspirations go.

Tagging @cowboybrunch @marlowethelibrarian @gioiaalbanoart @paeliae-occasionally @writingrosesonneptune + open !!

#about the author

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jazzyblusnowflake · 1 year ago

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Ive been thinking for a while to maybe make a small comic series about my personal journey in therapy and the ups and downs of my depression. not sure if ill be able to go through with it but....

//shrug.

tw// vent, mention of mental illness, abuse and suicide below

lately i havnt been doing so well, although its pretty normal and common during summer where i dont have much to do and my overthinking goes rampent...

but lately through therapy and my own research ive found out that not only am i suffering through clinical depression, general anxiety disorder and adhd, but i also suffer from the lack of emotional permanance, which is usually caused by a combo of the 3 other things i mentioned above, woohoo lucky me- buy 3 get one extra =_=...

this is... actively hurting everyone around me... i now understand that its not me being petty or bitchy, i...ACTIVELY cant... understand... or percieve other peoples affection for me. when im not recieving attention in real time i reason with myself that i am unloved and uncared for and this makes my brain shift the blame onto others for leaving me and thinking everyone is out to hurt me on purpose... so now i know why im... "too much" for other people to handle.. why im clingy, scared of isolation and in constant need of attention...

even my mother who is a textbook defenition of an abusive and emotionally negligent parent who verbally assaults me on the daily is now feeling worried about me and tries to take me out of the house more often.. i cry almost every night and my sleep is always with nightmares.

i wont get into too much detail but i do starve myself and force myself to stay awake til sunlight. i cant wash myself in showers and i cant change my clothes. the anxiety is too much. i cant even make myself to go through with it on the rooftop... especially now that i bottle myself up because i cant trust my mental stability to talk to anyone.

i want to be able to make this comic to be able to reach out and not feel alone... the people who care about me deserve more than dealing with my whiny ass on the daily. i need to be better.. for their sakes at LEAST.

im just sorry i let them down constantly.

anyway stay safe everyone, im still trying my best <3

#its raining so im gonna go on the rooftop a little #the first summer rain #its pretty #snowballfo #snow rambles #snow ocs

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bblinkppotterr · 1 year ago

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First, I am so sorry that anon was rude to you. Second, since everyone is talking about how you are so critical of Ginny and not Harry, maybe you could tell us how you're critical of Harry if that makes sence? Sorry English is not my first language, I hope this makes sence.

Of course I will talk about it if you are interested. I have never been vocal about somethings I hate about Harry. So this post is about things I don't like about him. This may not be new for others because many have these issues with Harry, so this is not a new stuffs. But let me show you my opinion.

And I would very much request every Harry fans who cannot stand hearing any criticism of him to kindly ignore this post. Because this is not for you guys to read.

Harry is sometimes ignorant. Like, yes he was grown up in a very worst way possible but to be honest, in my opinion, sometimes, he tends to make everything about himself. I hate this attitude of his.

In deathly hallows, there were two moments where I sort of had a dislike towards Harry's attitude.

“It’s your family, ’course you’re worried. I’d feel the same way.” He thought of Ginny. “I do feel the same way.”

Here he needed to remember Ginny to feel the same way, like he could not remember Molly, who knitted him a jumper, who cooked his meals, visited him as a guardian in triwizard tournament or spoke in front of everyone about how Harry is as good as her own children.

I also have issue with how Harry didn't apologize when Ron came back. Ron was actually pointing out their real issues, it's not about Harry and Hermione spending more time with each others or empty stomach. He was not well, was splinched. But there were not reaching any solution. All were sort of dead ends. Harry told him, ordered him to get out, then did not had a little bit of decency to apologize for elevating their fight into something physical and bigger. It's funny because this is the boy who make every issues "his fault".

Also in Hermione-Ron fiasco, his inner thoughts sort of supports Hermione and look down upon Ron. I was sad while reading Ron in that book, especially I am more like Ron in real life, that is flawed but always wanted to do something better next chance that I get. This is why when people say Ron- Harry are greater than Harry-Hermione, I disagree. Because yes Ron-Harry are great but if something happens between Romione's relationship, Harry may not say anything but we readers will be sure to read his thoughts about how he is leaning into Hermione's side. He also have this too much dependency towards Hermione. But that is not a problem so never mind.

In Fifth book, Harry's attitude towards the whole Marietta fiasco was cruel to me. He had no problem with his best friend permanently scarring another girl of his age. Marietta was one year older but it's not right to leave that fate to that girl. Any child would do anything to save their mother . Also how his admiration towards Ginny being "rarely weepy". If this boy did not plan to grow up, I swear he will not have a successful relationship life, because maybe Ginny does not be a weepy girl this time but what if in future she became weepy? Emotions are variable and very much unstable, isn't it?

Also, his attitude towards Percy. Percy is not cool because he is not a prankster, he care about rules and regulations and do a lot of hard work to study and score very good marks. When his best friend does it, he have no problem but when a boy does it, it is suddenly "pompous".

He tends to look down into girly girls like Parvati and Lavender, like I feel that he did not seem to like them while reading. Because to him, strong girls need to either badmouth others or play quidditch or say "wotcher" or be a book nerd. God punish any girls giggling for some stupid reasons.

Now , seeing him in epilogue, with a successful relationship and a little family, I guess he recovered his problems. But he was happy to not have to greet Percy, so I guess still a bit of a git..... So yeah, these are some issues I have with Harry.

#harry potter #harry james potter #potterhead #harry potter critical #blinkgotasked

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foggyparadisecandy · 10 months ago

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So much I want to say again.

K if you read this, well ... I guess it doesn't matter any more. You've heard everything I have to say a hundred times and it wasn't enough. So maybe this is a goodbye note. I hope not.

I will always be here for you and you know that. I hope that brings you comfort even if you never reach out again.

You have options even if you can't see them atm. You control your destiny. Remember it.

It's a core strength of yours. You've temporarily forgotten it. You are hurting horribly. I see it and it bothers me so much. I am not your savior. I know that. You are your savior. You will be your savior. You just have to remember who you are - the woman I fell for.

Strong. Capable. Self-driven. Good. Caring. Sharp. You are a good person. I know you will find your way. I believe in you and I'm no dummy so ... maybe think on that for awhile. Maybe it's all true ... maybe you are an ass-kicker? Worth considering, right?

It's ok and you're going to be ok. I know that and have faith in you. Even if you don't. lol

I dislike how you gave up control of your life to be on autopilot to mask your pain. I dislike it ... but I understand it. I feel for you.

Find your way back to your core strengths.

I want to say stop abandoning yourself but it's a shit statement. It implies you know who you are and I'm not sure that's true atm. That's why you are giving in to escapist stuff, on the go.

Do your best to pause. Remember the river. The warm water washing away your worries. Find yourself in your river in the center of your mind. Relax there.

Meditate. Use that to quiet your mind. Skip the weed - it’s not doing you any good atm :( I know how hard it is for you rn - please be strong and heal.

Explore your feelings - I know you are dealing wish some serious bullshit but explore them. Look into Anxious Attachment style healing.

Be ok with expressing your needs. No one worthwhile will reject you or abandon you if you express yourself. Don't suffer quietly in anxiety.

Lol.

Look at me lecture and give advice again. Whatever. IDC - you said you always loved it so I won't judge myself for caring and sharing. And fuck do I still love and care for you. I think you love me too. And I get it - it seems impossible for you atm to find space for me. It’s not really impossible. It only seems that way because you are hurting.

Relationships can morph and evolve. Good people are worth finding ways to keep in our lives. I know … I know … It's so complicated and messy, isn't it?

I really wish you had included me in your decision. Once again, I was shut out. I'm sorry I wasn't more approachable. I feel like I let you down in so many ways. Ugh. It hurts tbh. It really fucking hurts. I'll be ok though - don't worry.

Keep an eye on your subconscious. It needs to be watched like a hawk - it doesn't seem to be your best friend tbh. I would honestly say it actively wants you to suffer. That's a fucking harsh statement and I'm probably way off-base but ... I think it's correct.

Your parents are behind you and can no longer harm you. But they've wired your identity to hurt. Recognize it. Heal. Remember who you are: strong, capable, a fighter.

Nobody wants you to hurt. You don't have to hurt. Choose to heal. You are a good person. Find that truth … because it is the truth.

It's extremely hard for loved ones to push me away ... and yet here we are. How in the world did you pull that off? Lol

But despite your efforts, I'll always be here for you. Haha

Well ... maybe not here, but you know how to find me.

No different than before, my feelings are consistent. My offers are genuine. My love is deep.

I ... am so ... empty atm ... lol.

Goodbye everyone - maybe not permanently - knowing me I'll be back in a few days.

Tumblr is not good for me. I would have left sooner but K insisted on using Tumblr's chat so ... like her good puppy dog, I stuck around here.

Hypno is not doing it for me. I think I'm still a pretty good tist lol but I've lost my passion for it.

I like the idea of finding a new good girl to have fun with but ... also ... I'm just not right atm. As much as I wish I was. I need to sort shit out and figure out motivations. I don't want to hurt anyone else and I don't want to be hurt.

The real problem is ... everything on this blog was for K. A long-ass love letter to her. And I don’t regret a second of the energy and time I put into it. She is worth it and more.

But now … she’s gone. So ... I guess I am too. For now.

Empty.

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multiplicity-positivity · 1 year ago

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ok so a few days ago i kinda just went to sleep and woke up deciding i was an entirely new person? like new name, gender, sexuality, favourite colour and animal, my hyperfixations shifted but that's pretty standard i guess, even my typing mannerisms feel a lot more forced than they did a few days ago. when i look at posts from before i changed it doesn't feel like i typed them, even the ones i agree with or otherwise haven't changed much from. i'd assume more things changed because i am vaguely aware of other things being different but i don't wanna think about it too hard. i don't remember if anything prompted the shift in identity because my memory always gets foggy after a few hours (ADHD moment). i don't think i have any triggers and i'm not particularly stressed so i'd assume it's not anything like that.

i've always been depersonalised and all but it's never a big thing y'know, more of a "wow this isn't my body isn't it" every time i happen to pass by a mirror which could also just be me being nonbinary.

i'm not saying i think this is plurality or anything i just want a second opinion on this because i have no clue what's causing this. is this just a normal growing as a person thing or should i be concerned?

hey, sounds like you could definitely be going through some sort of dissociation or depersonalization/derealization. honestly we don’t think this should be much cause for concern, unless it’s upsetting you or making it difficult for you to function. it absolutely could also just be a shift in your personality, albeit a pretty big one!

if you have a therapist, primary care doctor, or mental health professional, it wouldn’t hurt to bring this up to them. you could be dealing with dpdr disorder or something similar. but we wouldn’t be too worried about it unless it was causing some sort of distress.

i’m a stoner - drug mention under the cut.

🐢 kip and 💫 parker

we’re not sure about your history with drugs, but some people experience dpdr during and after consuming cannabis. some folks end up with permanent or temporary dpdr after smoking weed. so if you’ve gotten stoned recently (whether for the first time or as a regular thing), this may be contributing to your feelings of depersonalization.

if this is the case, we’d definitely recommend reaching out to someone if your symptoms persist for more than a few days. if not, so sorry for giving you unsolicited drug advice!

#depersonalization #dpdr #weed mention #drugs

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snakedifferentskin · 1 year ago

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[ dressing room ] our muses have some fun in a dressing room together

they so would’ve done this before one of his shows 🤭

oops

It’s as if he sold his soul to the devil. Just a year out of university with a degree in fine arts and he had a permanent spot in the city’s theatre. In the summer, he would perform in whatever play they had for the season and sang for the rest of the year. Marcus even had a few spots on the radio if they were missing an act. Every show, he had a free ticket to give. He kept giving it to Oliver, making sure he could always watch the show. But he realizes, there’s an easier way to get him to the show; letting him in through the backstage and inviting him to his dressing room.

Two hours before the show, Marcus starts to get some ideas. Since a beautifully drunken night where’d they confessed and kissed, they’ve been together in secret. A quick bout of affection in their cars before entering an event, walking close enough together so their hands could brush against each other, nights in Marc’s apartment where no one could disturb them. As long as the room had no prying eyes, it was safe.

While he carefully removes the curlers from the back of his hair, he looks over his shoulder to see if he can see Oliver. Buried in a book, another one of those law books that he and Damien were always carrying. Marc’s father wanted him to go into law, but they didn’t speak anymore. Acting was more interesting than the legalese they understood.

While facing the mirror, he starts to pull the few underclothes from under his robes off. Shifting and squirming in his seat as he starts to kick off his boxers and quickly pull off his undershirt. “Darling, eyes up please,” he says with a sing song tone, turning to face him with the robe still closed. “Could you help me get changed? I have to hold my curls in place.” Acting with absolute innocence, he pops the last roller out of place and keeps both of his hands behind his head.

Watching Oliver walk over without any idea is enough to send sparks up his spine, the few years together still makes everything feel brand new. A kiss is like their very first, when he can’t get enough. Humming as he holds his hair in place, he watches as his partner slips his fingers underneath the tied fabric to part the robe. “You’re going to have a whole team of people by the end of the year, the whole state is in love with you. Honestly-,” The illusion drops, leaving Marc naked in front of him. “Is something wrong? I haven’t pulled out a curl have I?”

Lightly swatting his chest, his lover goes from paper white to blood red. “You’re going on stage in a few hours, I am not letting you go up there after..” With the rest of his thoughts feeling too revolutionary in a semi public space, Oliver tries covering his partner back up. Marcus refuses, throwing the robe onto the vanity.

“So? It doesn’t always have to be me getting fucked. And if you’re that worried about me ruining my suit, you could help me get cleaned up. What about my..” Tapping his throat and winking, he happily drops to his knees to wait.

“You’re singing tonight. Marc, sweetheart, I will do whatever you want after the show.”

“But isn’t it exciting? Think about it. I have to put my demeanour back together, perform for everyone while you get to know what you did to me. We’ve never done it in here before, think about how you’ll claim it and me. How I’ll always be yours, that we belong together.” Stretching towards Oliver, both hands reach to grasp both of his shoulders to try and convince him. Clambering into his lap while offering the best puppy eyes money could buy. “Oh my sunshine, please? If we do it now, then I won’t be ruined during the show.” Hopefully, the puppy-esque demeanour can win him over.

Like always, his partner is gentle when he touches him. Putting both hands atop his chest, skin completely unmarked. After years on a slightly meager diet, Marc was finally well fed. A slight, wiry and skeleton frame became soft, built with purpose and plush skin. Marcus moves impatiently, rocking his hips against his partners thigh until Oliver pins his hips down. For his “nerd”, he was strong enough to carry both Marc and Damien after drunken nights out. “I can’t say no to you, but you’re not bossing me around this time.” Pulling him onto the couch, the actor is forced to sit still while the removal of clothes is slow. Folding everything up on the side table, locking the door and laying the robe back on the chair.

“You know we can’t do this without any of the..stuff.” Prudish as he was, Oliver keeps on the lower half of his clothes while he searches for anything he can use to make this easier. “Bottom drawer, underneath the magazines. I do keep myself prepared. For you of course.” Rolling his eyes, the small canister of oil is found amidst the prop papers. Moving slowly while Marc somehow sits still, leg bouncing against the couch as his impatience never ends.

There’s a knock on the door.

“Marc? Marc? Opening act couldn’t make it tonight, half the band got the flu. You’ll have to go on, are you good to go in twenty?” Nothing is ever that good. Grimacing as he turns to the door, coughing to fix his voice. “Give me thirty! I’ve got to get myself ready!”

Footsteps fade out into the hallway to finally leave them alone. “Well, we’ve just got to do it a little quicker then.” Laying down on the couch, Marc pushes his legs open and starts patting his thigh. “Pretty please? Sunshine..I can’t go on stage like this.”

Anyone else would’ve cursed him out, made him get dressed and shove him in the bathroom to take care of himself. It’s Oliver, whose soft hands grasp both of his thighs so he can kneel between them. Letting his partners pleads persuade him into pleasing him, well practiced fingers slowly move from the soft pudge of his thighs and press against the ring of muscle. “I did say I was going to do my own thing this time. You don’t have to worry about a thing, just relax. You’re mine, aren’t you?”

An indignant cry to get him moving becomes a weak moan, cold oil dripping down his thighs. His lovers voice feels distant as his breath warms his skin, two slicked fingers push to remind Marc exactly where he is: at his mercy. Someone so sweet and unassuming outside of the bedroom that every night with him was a little shock to his system. Oliver, his sunshine could be anything but gentle? What a dream come true. Slowly pushing both into him as he looms above the flustered actor.

“Can’t believe we’re doing this,” he pants, shifting closer to the edge to push himself further on Oliver’s fingers. “Glad I’m more interesting than those books..” While he was completely content with the idea of a quickie before the performance, his partner always took time to make him happy. A secondary way to hear him debase his voice and fall into line.

Squeezing his eyes shut, the dirty sin of their love creeps into his mind. They were never supposed to be like this, perverting the space around them with hot hands and bodies ever so close. They’d have to accept it, enjoy the buried desires in such secluded places and walk out as friends. Burning shame becomes pleasure, holding back anything louder that would reveal the sin in his performance. Tiny groans, short as they leave in steady pace fill the room. With no sense of time, Marc can only hope Oliver is kind enough to keep his word and get him on stage before they’re heard by a stagehand.

“Eyes open darling, you don’t want to miss the show.” Retracting his fingers from a trembling Marc, he stills just to watch him. Burning feverishly, rosy red from his cheeks down to his chest while he clenches around nothing. Oliver’s palm presses against his lovers heart, both of them unmarked by the cruelty of time. When his lovers eyes blink open, tears in the corners of them. Marc couldn’t help himself from crying during sex, the beautiful agony of his image being destroyed and loving Oliver so much he could almost give it all up. Just a few years, make enough and get the fame. Retire early and live out their ‘bachelor’ lives. Coaxing his lover to respond, the bottle is tipped to drip the cold oil along the length of Marc’s cock. Enough to make him shudder, whining as he squirms to end the sensation. Forever willing to torture him, Oliver barely wraps his fingers around his cock. Spreading the oil along him to watch him shudder and buck his hips like a wild animal.

“You’re only getting this now because there’s twenty minutes until the show, not because you’re begging so poorly.” Marc’s quips and any hint of sarcasm have been saved for when they’re truly alone, muffling the frustrated cries with the back of his hand. Finally, finally he feels Oliver’s cock slowly pushing into him, the stretch he’s finally gotten used to after two years of learning exactly how they can be together.

Still moving slowly as he pushes into Marc, both of his hands grasping his chest to pull him closer. “You’re not going to get off lightly tonight. I can’t wait to have you to myself.” With the continuous frustration beneath him, Oliver’s hips twitch into him with the eternal patience he holds. Hands atop his chest leaving marks in the shape of his glorious piano playing fingers. Built to take him apart. Moving slowly, watching as Marc’s face contort as his cock slowly enters him.

“Sunshine please! I need you, come on..I’m really close..” he beg, clawing at both of Oliver’s shoulders and pulling him up just to move him faster. Panting louder than necessary to coax him closer, finally getting what he wants. Marcus always got what he wanted. His partners hands drag down his chest to reveal blushing palms imprinted into it. Drawing it out until the early hours of the morning would be heaven on earth, but time rules over them.

If he was so determined to have him now, then Oliver couldn’t deny him. Never. Their hips connect without warning, before he pulls back and starts a backbreaking pace. Quick, risky, and fun; just as requested. Marc is ever surprised by the change in his sweethearts demeanour, shock leaving him unable to struggle against the harsh snap of their hips together. Thinking for two, Oliver’s hand wraps around his cock to move at the same speed of his hips and constantly fighting the tense muscles of his partners body.

Fifteen minutes since their initial warning and Marc dimly thinks if he’s bitten off more than he could chew. Stuck in a falsetto chorus of “uh, ah”’s, he cums over his partners hand hard, biting his tongue when the urge to scream hits him. Then, nothing. Surrounded by the weightlessness of his orgasm, he only registers two things. Oliver pulling out from him and a tongue across his stomach. Weakly shivering at the sensation, he leans to see if anything else needs cleaning up.

“You..you haven’t cum yet, it’s alright, you could’ve..”

“If I started cleaning you after that, you wouldn’t be leaving this dressing room for another hour.” Hands gently redressing him, he finds himself sat upright on the couch while his clothes are perfected and he’s made stage-ready. Immediately running the ironed seam of his pants by kneeling, tapping Oliver’s thighs and winking.

“People love my mouth, so why don’t you indulge a little extra? Please? Pretty please?” As convincing as he is, Marc knows he can always win over his partner just by looking. It had been that way for years. Marc makes a scheme and Oliver would always go along one way or another. Earning a pat on the head and the meticulous fixing of his hair, he’s given permission.

Wrapping his lips around his cock, Marc hums the opening note to the show. Despite his far fetched ideas, he knows he can’t be so reckless. One wrong note and he’ll be moving in between the alley way and a friendly raccoon. Dragging his tongue along the underside of his cock, watching Oliver with the same excitement from when he gets to hold his hand. Sucking along the tip and moaning as loudly as he can. Feeling a hand grip the back of his head, he greedily pushes his lips up to the base of Oliver’s cock. Sinking up and down until he feels his partner trying to pull away entirely. Cum hits the back of the throat, swallowing until his partner steps away.

“Are you alright? Darling, we’ve..” panting, he gently lifts Marc back up from his knees. Holding him close to his chest and swaying in the afterglow. They would have to be separated again, but soon they’ll be together forever. They have the rest of their lives together.

#another autograph #a grand performance #locked dressing room #poor poltergeist

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