#anyway back to glee because apparently that's much more chill

[artemisravencourtney]

Klaroline WIP Wednesday: Those Violent Eyes Ch5

(Klaroline peeps please tell me if I'm doing this wrong, it's my first time trying WIP Wed)

TW: Very brief mentions of past SA

He muses out loud, more so to himself than Stefan, “We could imprison him? I happen to have some options beneath the manor that should do nicely for now.” “Imprison him until when? He’s obsessed with Katherine, he won’t just give up on the idea.” Klaus waves a hand, “Until it’s appropriate to kill him.” He says flippantly. “Weeks, decades, centuries, who knows?” He shoots Stefan a pointed look, then, “Your brother’s days are numbered, ripper. He lives because I allow him to, but I will tire of that eventually.” Comprehension dawns on Stefan’s face, and the hybrid realizes he’s given too much away. “Because of Caroline. You’re keeping him alive until she gives you permission to kill him.” It’s not entirely the truth, but too close for comfort, regardless. Stefan smiles then, tone friendly, “You like her.” He’s brought back to his upbringing, and Mikael’s wicked glee whenever he’d find a weakness in his least favorite son. His ‘father’ could poke at anything that touched a nerve until the words hurt almost as much as the blows, all without ever losing that hint of sadistic pleasure that came with causing his distress. Klaus won’t allow Caroline to be poked at. “Your brother is a rapist.” He says slowly, “I don’t have to like her to want him dead.” Stefan only smiles wider, eyes sparkling in amusement. “No, but you’d have to at least respect her to wait for her permission to kill him.” He raises an eyebrow at that, “Your bar for what constitutes as respect is pitifully low.” The ripper shrugs, allowing him to relax slightly (though he suspects they will be revisiting this conversation at a later date). “Maybe. Anyway, we can imprison Damon until you kill him, but that might raise some questions. He’s friends with the town Sheriff, they have lunch together every week.” He pauses, noting the scowl on Klaus’s face with a healthy degree of trepidation, “If he goes missing, she’ll catch on.” Klaus Mikaelson is not a good man. He will be the first to admit that. Not with pride, but not with shame either. It’s an intrinsic truth, one his mother knew long before he did, one that he stopped trying to outrun the day his Wolf was bound. Klaus is objectively a terrible person, a questionable brother, and a monster among monsters. He murdered his own mother, for crying out loud. But the very thought of befriending a woman like the sheriff, laughing with her while committing unspeakable crimes towards her beloved daughter in the shadows? Pretending to be her ally, while you destroy the one person most dear to her on this earth, and ensure she’s none the wiser? All for no apparent benefit, aside from blood and your own twisted amusement? Klaus is not a good man. But there exist evils he isn’t capable of. Something snaps inside of him, dark and foreboding. “You wouldn’t happen to mean Sheriff Elizabeth Forbes, would you?” At Stefan’s answering nod, he feels a startling clarity wash over him. There’s no seeing red, no fiery hatred, no bloodlust. Instead, he feels swept underwater, awash with a bone-deep chill the likes of which he hasn’t felt since his last winter as a human. Idly, he wonders if this icy, detached thirst for vengeance weaving its way through him is what Elijah feels on a daily basis. He’s always been the hot-headed, mercurial one of his siblings, and he prefers it that way, but perhaps there’s something to be said about this cold, calculating fury. “Change of plans, then. I have a much better idea.” He unlocks his phone again, scrolling to another contact, “You might want to book a hotel for tonight, preferably under a different name”, he says, typing away. Stefan says something in response, but the sound is garbled and far away as he hits send.

[got-into-worm-by-mistake]

Interlude 2 Live Reactions

(This is me, writing reactions as I read, because why the fuck not. They're not complete, mature thoughts taken after I sit back and evaluate what I've read. Consider them as such)

There were very few things, in Victoria Dallon’s estimation, that were cooler than flying.  The invisible forcefield that extended a few millimeters over her skin and clothes just made it better.  The field kept the worst of the chill from touching her, but still let her feel the wind on her skin and in her hair.  Bugs didn’t splat against her face like they did against car windshields, even when she was pushing eighty miles an hour.

I mean, there's a reason why people objected to Victoria being the MC of Ward way back when. Her first introduction really doesn't jive with the rest of Worm's general tone, sets the mood, etc. Collateral Damage Barbie and all.

Really, Ward may take place after Worm, and may be in the same verse, etc, but it's not a sequel in the conventional sense. it's not telling the same story, the theming and narrative is wildly different - plus, Worm is 1.6 Million words long. 1.6 Million is over 3 times longer than Lord of the Fucking Rings. That's not a Book, that's a series. Ward isn't a sequel to Worm, it's a new series in the same world, after the previous series. Which is definitely a thing.

Granted, this is nitpicking, but Ward sucks, so fuck Ward.

Anyway - this opener for Vicky here does set a tone for her. I know she 'gets better' even within Worm itself, etc, but at this point, all the reader really knows (bar spoilers) is that some heroes are apparently dicks, and some villains are apparently halfway nice people. I'm going to guess one of the main purposes of this interlude (since, if I have picked up things right, is an instance of Amy healing another one of Vicky's victims) is to further the case, to the reader, that the heroes aren't all bright and shiny.

(To be clear, based on my fic reading/wiki walking/reddit thread reading, I am actually a fan of Victoria Dallon overall)

She stayed in that kneeling position for just heartbeats, letting her platinum curls and the cape that was draped over one of her shoulders flutter in the wake of air that had followed her descent.  She met the eyes of her quarry with a steely glare. She’d practiced that landing for weeks to get it right.

We see her reveling in her power in a way Taylor never does, never wants to. We also see her being an overdramatic teenager, but then, If I'd had that sort of power when I was her age (17? 18?) I'd also be overdramatic as fuck, so I'm not blaming her.

“I didn’t do anything,” the man snarled. “Andrea Young!” Victoria raised her voice.  As she shouted, she exercised her power.  The man quailed as though she’d slapped him.  “A black college student was beaten so badly she needed medical attention!  Her teeth were knocked out!  You’re trying to tell me that you, a skinhead with swollen knuckles, someone who was in the crowd watching paramedics arrive with an expression bordering on glee, you didn’t do anything!?” “I didn’t do nothing worth caring about,” he sneered.  His bravado was tempered by a second look over his shoulder, as though he’d very much like to be elsewhere right that moment.

I mean, no one ever accused Neo-Nazis of being smart, but you do know who this is, you little shit, right? You may not care, but she does, so keep on denying it. It won't work, but you have to at least try.

God, his stupidity almost offends me more than his racism.

  For just a moment, she contemplated slamming him up against a wall.  It would have been fitting and satisfying to shove him hard enough against the brick to crack it, then drop him into the dumpster that sat at the wall’s base.

Intrusive thoughts, entirely understandable.

“I think it’s a safe bet to say you’re a member of Empire Eighty-Eight,” she told him, meeting his eyes with a hard stare, “or at least, you’ve got some friends who are.  So here’s what’s going to happen.  You’re going to either tell me everything the triple-E’s have been up to, or I’m going to break your arms and legs and then you’re going to tell me everything.”

Well. Not a great look, even as an empty threat, Victoria. Not a great look at all.

“Fuck you, you can’t touch me.  There’s laws against that shit,” he blustered, staring fixedly over one shoulder.

Okay, so I know police brutality still happens on Earth-Bet, so does this guy really think this will work?

(also, why is it in superhero fiction superheroes always seem to be better regulated and more likely to actually be punished than cops? Apart from author fiat, I mean? Probably Police Unions are a huge contributing factor, tbh)

Her body thrummed with current – waves of energy that anyone in her presence would experience as an emotional charge of awe and admiration.  For those with a reason to be afraid of her, it would be a feeling of raw intimidation instead.

Ah yes. The Aura. Nothing ethically dubious about this. Aura Theory may not be true, but really, wtf Vicky. Don't go running this thing like it's Candy Crush on a boring Thursday Night.

Was Candy Crush around in 2011? Does Earth Bet have Candy Crush?

He was utterly for still for long enough that Victoria had begun to worry that he’d somehow snapped his neck or broken his spine as he’d rolled.  She was relieved when he groaned and began to pull himself to his feet. “Ready to talk?” she asked him, her voice carrying down the alley.  She didn’t move  forward from where she hovered in the air, but she did let herself drop closer to the ground.

There is a reason Vicky's detractors (and even some of her fans) call her 'Cop' as a middle name.

Like, character doing torture in fiction happens, and in a story like Worm, might even still be an overall good person, but someone like Glory Girl really shouldn't fucking be doing this shit. Not with New Wave's whole schtick and her whole general... vibe as a superhero.

Then again, that she's doing this despite that is probably the whole goddamn point of the interlude.

What was this asshole thinking?  That she would just let him go?  That, what, she would just bend to his witless lack of self preservation?  That she was helpless to do any real harm to him?  To top it off, he was going to insult her and try to walk away?

Shards, Shards, my dudes. my guys - DON'T GIVE TEENAGERS THIS SORT OF POWER

This time, he didn’t get up. “Fuck,” she swore, “Fuckity fuck fuck.”  She flew to him and checked for a pulse.  She sighed, and then headed to the nearest street.  She found the street address, grabbed her cell from her belt and dialed. “Hey sis?  Yeah, I found him.  That’s, uh, sort of the problem.  Yeah.  Look, I’m sorr- ok, can we talk about this later?  Yeah.  I’m at Spayder and Rock, there’s this little road that runs behind the buildings.  Downtownish, yeah.  Yeah?  Thanks.” Victoria returned to the unconscious skinhead, checked his pulse, and listened intently for changes in his breathing.  It took a very long five minutes for her sister to arrive. “Again, Victoria?” the voice disturbed her from her contemplations.

Again.

One word. Conveys so much character and worldbuilding, doesn't it?

“Use my codename, please,” Victoria told the girl.  Her sister was as different from her as night was from day.  Where Victoria was beautiful, tall, gorgeous, blonde, Amy was mousy.  Victoria’s costume showed off her figure, with a white one-piece dress that came to mid-thigh (with shorts underneath) an over-the shoulder cape, high boots and a golden tiara with spikes radiating from it, vaguely reminiscent of the sun’s rays or the statue of liberty.  Amy’s costume, by contrast, was only a shade away from being a burka.  Amy wore a robe with a large hood and a scarf that covered the lower half of her face.  The robe was alabaster white and had a medic’s red cross on the chest and the back.

Like, I've seen people give Wildbow grief for describing Amy's outfit as like a burka, and it wasn't a great choice of words, but is evocative.

He really should have picked another term tho.

Also! AMY! AMY! My Poor Borbo Sopping Wet Babygirl Little Meow Meow Who Did Nothing* Wrong! Finally she appears! Gimmie Gimmie Gimmie!

*As a necessary clarification for people who are Wildbow or who otherwise don't understand Fandom and/or tumblr Humor, yes, Amy of course did so fucking much that is wrong. I really shouldn't have to clarify this, but this fucking fandom (and this fucking Author)

“Our identities are public,” Amy retorted, pushing the hood back and scarf down to reveal brown frizzy hair and a face with freckles spaced evenly across it. “It’s the principle of the thing,” Victoria replied. “You want to talk about principles, Glory Girl?” Amy asked, in the most sarcastic tone she could manage, “This is the sixth – sixth! – time you’ve nearly killed someone.  That I know about!” “I’m strong enough to lift a SUV over my head,” Victoria muttered, “It’s hard to hold back all the time.”

Yes, but that's also why you don't... like... do those things, Vicky? If you can't be sure you will hold back, then don't do a thing where if you don't hold back, you leave a guy like this. At least if it's not an actual life and death situation.

Amy's not wrong here. Six fucking times is a lot, for a girl who hasn't had her powers for more than a few years.

Carol? Carol?! Who said you could let your teenage wrecking ball patrol around like this unsupervised? Caaaarol!

(God, Carol is just... the worst fucking mother all around, isn't she?)

“Look, can you just fix him?” Victoria pleaded. “I’m thinking I shouldn’t,” Amy said, quietly. “What?” “There’s consequences, Vicky.  If I help you now, what’s going to stop you from doing it again?  I can call the paramedics.  I know some good people from the hospital.  They could probably fix him up alright.”

I mean, on the list of things that's weighing Amy down, all the people that she's healed for Victoria is probably a bit lower down, but it doesn't help.

Don't help her Amy. I know you will, and I love you anyway, but don't. Please don't. You're right. Vicky does need to learn.

“I know you’re not keen on the superhero thing, but you’d really go that far?  You’d do that to us?  To me?”

Look who took guilt redirection classes from Mommy!

(Not that this is like, some horrible sin revealing Vicky as a garbage person, teenagers learning moral lessons from their parents is inevitable, and Carol, again, suuuuucks. Bad mom, bad superhero, bad human. All my homies hate Carol.)

Amy pointed a finger at her sister, “That’s not me.  It’s not my fault we’re at this point.  It’s you.  You’re crossing the line, going too far.  Which is exactly what people who criticize New Wave are scared of.  We’re not government sponsored.  We’re not protected or organized or regulated in the same way.  Everyone knows who we are under our masks.  That means we have to be accountable.  The responsible thing for me to do, as a member of this team, is to let the paramedics take him, and let the law do as it sees fit.”

Again. She's really not fucking wrong. If Vicky makes a bad first showing for a work like this, Amy makes a really good first showing.

“My adoptive family,” Amy mumbled into Victoria’s shoulder, “And stop trying to use your frigging power to make me all squee over how amazing you are.  Doesn’t work.  I’ve been exposed so long I’m immune.” “It hurts,” the man moaned. “I’m not using my power, dumbass,” Victoria told Amy, letting her go, “I’m hugging my sister.  My awesome, caring and merciful sister.”

Being exposed to a mind altering power so much that you're 'immune' is still not the sort of thing a person should really be going through at all, you get that, right? Vicky? You do get that, right?

Are you really not? You sure? Because you just did lose control of your other power (super strength) a few minutes ago.

Aura Theory isn't true, but the Aura is still 17 kinds of bullshit, Vicky.

Amy frowned at Victoria, “I’ll heal him.  But this is the last time.”

Amy, I love you, I love you to pieces and to the moon and back, and I wish for nothing but happiness for you, but you and I both know this is not the last time.

Amy leaned over the man and touched her hand to his cheek, “Slingshot break to his ribs, fractured clavicle, broken mandible, broken scapula, fractured sternum, bruised lung, broken ulna, broken radius -“ “I get the point,” Victoria said. “Do you?” Amy asked.  Then she sighed, “I wasn’t even halfway down the list.  This is going to take a little while.  Sit?”

Vicky, you're really not sounding like someone who is getting it. You really should be hearing Amy's whole list.

Like, I get that Vicky's probably not supposed to be coming off great in this scene, and if so, task fucking successful.

“Better than ever, physically,” Amy replied, “I grew her new teeth, fixed everything from the bruising to the scrapes, and even gave her a head to toe tune-up.  Physically, she’ll feel on top of the world, like she had been to a spa and had the best nutritionist, best fitness expert and the best doctor all looking after her for a straight month.”

Powers.

Are.

Bullshit.

“Yeah, yeah.  Not can’t.  Won’t.  It’s complicated and I don’t trust myself not to screw something up when I’m tampering with someone’s head.  That’s it, that’s all.”

This isn't the (only) reason Amy has this rule, of course, but it's a damn fucking good one.

As far as she was concerned, Amy was doing herself a disservice by not practicing using her powers on the brain.  It was only a matter of time before her sister found herself in a situation where she needed to do some emergency brain surgery and found herself incapable.  Amy, for her part, refused to even discuss it.

...On the other hand.

Vicky's not wrong. Holy shit, is she not wrong. And not just for reasons stated, but for a bunch of other reasons Vicky doesn't know about.

The problem with rigid rules, and pinning your entire sense of morality to them is that if you break one, and you made it so rigid it's brittle, the whole moral edifice falls down.

Amy, babygirl, please. Someone needs to get this girl into at college level ethics course, STAT. She needs a moral worldview that she didn't inherit from Carol that isn't so black and white and rigid yet brittle.

“I… sue you, he gasped out, then managed an added, “Whore.” “Try it.  I’d just love to see a skinhead with a few broken bones go up against a superheroine whose mom just happens to be one of the best lawyers in Brockton Bay.  You know her, right?”

Aaand back to the Police Brutality analogues.

“And erectile dysfunction,” Amy said, just loud enough for the thug to hear her, “You fractured your ninth vertebra.  That’s going to affect all nerve function in extremities below your waist.  If I leave you like you are, your toes will always feel a little numb, and you’ll have a hell of a time getting it up, if you know what I mean.”

Always the best way to get to a guy poisoned on the kind of hypertoxic 'masculinity' that fascism and adjacent ideologies fill their supporters with: Go after what they love most.

“I have an honorary medical license,” Amy told him, her expression solemn, “I’m not allowed to fuck with you about stuff like that.  Hippocratic oath.”

Amy Dallon, Bullshittter Extraordinaire :rofl:

“This guy, Coil.  Don’t know what his powers are, but he’s got a private army.  Ex-military, all of ’em.  At least fifty, Kaiser said, and every one of ’em has top notch gear.  Their armor’s better than kevlar.  You shoot ’em, they’re back up in a few seconds.  ‘Least when you shoot a pig, you can be pretty sure you broke a few ribs.  But that’s not the fucked up thing.  These guys?  They’ve got these lasers hooked up to the machine guns they carry around.  If they don’t think bullets are doing it, or if they’re after people who are behind cover, they fire off these purple laser beams that can cut through steel.  Tear through any cover you’re standing behind and burn through you too.”

Aaaah Thomas Fuckface Calvert. First introduction of what is probably the closest thing Worm has to like a real 'main villain'. Jack Slash is a close second, but it takes too long for him to be relevant for that to count. Calvert looms over the entire narrative from midway through Arc 2 until he dies in what... I'm going to guess from what I know is somewhere in Arc 20? 21?

The skinhead laughed, then winced, “Are you dense, girl?  Everyone’s going to make a play.  It’s not just the major gangs and teams that are looking for a slice of the pie, there.  It’s everyone.  The Docks are ripe for the taking.  The location’s worth as much money as you’d get downtown.  It’s the go to place if you want to buy black market.  Sex, drugs, violence.  And the locals are already used to paying protection money.  It’s just a matter of changing who they pay to.  The Docks are rich territory, and we’re talking the potential for a full scale fucking war over it.”

Nature abhors a vacuum, and that's one reason you have to be careful about taking out whole gangs.

He continued, “You want to know my guess?  Empire Eighty Eight is going to take the biggest slice of the Docks, because we’re strong enough to.  Coil’s going to stick his thumb in just to spite us, ABB is going to hold on to some.  But you’re also going to have a bunch of the little guys trying to take something for themselves.  Über and Leet, Circus, the Undersiders, Squealer, Trainwreck, Stain, others you’ve never heard of?  They’re going to stake out their ground, and one of two things is going to happen.  Either there’s war, in which case civilians get hurt and things get bad for you, or there’s alliances between the various teams and solo villains and shit gets even worse for you.”

Chatty (and surprisingly insightful) little shithead, isn't he? Where were all these brains earlier when he was Mouthing Off to Alexandria Jr?

 “Try it.  My sister just healed you… most of you, with a touch.  Did you ever wonder what else she could do?  Ever think, maybe, she could break you just as easily?  Or change the color of your skin, you racist fuck?  I’ll tell you this, I’m not half as scary as my little sister is.”

Does Vicky realize how true this is? Like, really, truly, how easily her sister could become an S-class threat?

Also, just once, it would be funny as fuck if Amy did make a member of E88 black. Horrifying implications, but funny as fuck.

“I’ll be good.  I’ll be better,” Victoria promised as she dialed with one hand. 

If I'm Amy, I'm thinking 'You mean that now'.

But again. What 17 year old doesn't say "i'll do better" and, even when they mean it, sometimes fail?

“Amy!” Victoria laughed, hugging her sister with one arm, “Weren’t you just saying you weren’t going to mess with people’s heads?”

She said she wouldn't mess with their brains.

(Not that this shithead racist fucker seems to have many of those)

Overall, fucking love this Interlude, and even if I didn't have Amy Dallon Brainrot™ as a pre-existing condition, I think I would anyway.

But ooof. So many fucking oofs, given where I know the story is going.

[tuiyla]

I’m more in the Glee Fandom but also I’m very curious because I watched ATLA as a child - why do people hate Aang so much? He seems like a sweetheart. Is he like the Finn Hudson of ATLA, who the writers tried so hard to seem like a good person but accidentally made him entitled, hypocritical, possessive, and an awful boyfriend?

We've gotta keep this lowkey Anon lol, just between us cause I'm just gonna go ahead and say some things that I'm sure would piss certain peeps off.

Full disclaimer, while I do think I've pretty much seen it all in regards to the Avatar fandom at large I haven't been actively participating in the fandom for about two years now. So the talking points that I've seen might not be the ones people are bringing up now. Then again, in my many years I've rarely seen takes that weren't just recycled ideas from years back, so there's that. But yeah, based on what I've seen:

God no he isn't the Finn haha. There is a weird portion of the fandom that thinks he's secretly manipulative or whatever but how do you even take those people seriously. Finn I feel is, while by no means a unique case, certainly his own category in the dissonance of how the writers saw him and how he actually comes across. ATLA's writing is way too good to let something like that happen. But I suppose Aang hate can come from a similar place on the fandom in the sense that people simply don't see him as a good protagonist, or as deserving of being one anyway.

And you know I'll just say it, a lot of Aang hate comes from avid Zutara shippers. You know, Zuko and Katara? If anyone comes at me for saying this I'll know they weren't there for the ship wars because everyone knows how infamously intense that was. People were bashing Aang on the one side and Zuko on the other. And what for? Two mediocre ships. Lmao I really give zero fucks now. So anyway, I've only ever seen outright Aang hate from people who dislike the Kataang ship and they usually also happen to want Katara with Zuko.

Aang hate can say anything from simply calling him immature and undeserving - you know, a 12-year-old child - to saying he's actively manipulative, or whiny for not wanting to kill a man (??), or some people even, like, actually believe he's just an all-around jerk. Once again for emphasis, we're talking about a 12-year-old pacifist with the weight of the world on his shoulders who still manages to be the very soul of his group and the whole show.

The popular bashing talking point is also that he feels too much like the creators wanted him to be the perfect hero who gets the girl and "forces" her into a relationship. Again, bonkers crazy shit to say about a 12 year-old with a crush. And then there's the Legend of Korra stuff, because adult Aang is given more flaws and specifically as a father in the sequel series so I guess people look at that complicated and nuanced family dynamic and go "ah yes, bad guy very bad". ~Problematic~, you could say.

The last "reason" I can think of is that, in a cast full of very complex and generally well-liked characters, Aang has always felt flat to some. Like he's the weakest link in his team, you know? Which I don't agree with all that much nor do I think that should mean he's not a good protagonist but whatever. Zuko has always been the single most popular ch and some people don't know how deuteragonists work and therefore want the whole show to center around him, and are bitter about Aang. Nevermind that the show is called Avatar and he's the Avatar.

At the end of the day though, I don't really know Anon. He's definitely not the Finn, and I've rarely if ever seen heavy anti-Aang sentiments outside of the shipping discourse so I'm inclined to believe it mostly has to do with that. I'd be curious as to where you get people hating Aang from but I'll be honest, I don't need those vibes in my life anyway. Unlike with Finn, or any Glee characters really, I frankly don't think there's a good enough reason to straight-up hate on Aang. He is a sweetheart and actually a really, really great character (who people don't deserve by the looks of it). Seems childish of people to spew hate tbh and I would hope it's kids doing it. I know that sounds kinda dismissive but hey, going all out here right. At least with kids you can hope they'll grow and mature out of it.

All of this isn't to say ATLA doesn't have any issues with its writing or Aang's characterization, or the Kataang pair, nor is this an attack of any subset of the fandom. Believe it or not I'm not trying to come for the Zutarians' necks with this, I'm just trying to explain to you the stuff that I have seen over the years. But I'm fine not being in the Avatar fandom as such if Aang/any kind of hate really is happening. I'd assume that's mostly twitter and tiktok but who knows, tumblr isn't immune to awful discourse at all.

[sevikasleftpussyflap]

Why do I feel like I'd annoy the shit out of Sevika just because I'm super clingy and always want to cuddle or have some sort of physical affection lol

Probably because you would

Anyway Here’s this WIP thing I have:

Hot air hits your cheek in forceful blows, smoke just narrowly avoiding your eye each time. There’s a chill in your room due to the broken heater that your landlord refused to fix. The only things you had to combat it were thin blankets, Sevika’s body heat, and her irritated puffs of smoke warming your cheek in an effort to get you to stop talking.

“If someone tried to buy me with-“

“I’d pay them to take you. Shut up and sleep.”

A convenient shiver wracked through your body. Despite Sevika’s irritation, unbridled glee filled your chest when her grip tightened on you, her other hand going to tuck the blankets tighter around you on the side she wasn’t on.

“I’m killing your fucking landlord tomorrow.”

“The fact that you haven’t already done so is so neglectful as a girlfriend.” You said, staring up at the damp parts of her hair you had chewed on earlier. It’s not your fault her half ponytail was so cute and you will proudly blame the victim in this case.

“Good.”

“You’re so pretty.”

“I’m leaving you on someone’s doorstep.” Sevika’s arm tightened around your back, crushing you to her chest until your struggling breaths were audible in the quiet room.

“Serious. Love your-“

More smoke. Blew on your forehead this time.

“I’m going to choke you out.”

“Please?” You loved how defensive Sevika got when you complimented her.

Especially when you first met and she wasn’t close enough to you to throw bullying quips your way or crush you until your air supply was cut off. The first time you did it was over dinner with some grossly affectionate compliment involving her eyes. The pretty, murdering extortionist had gruffly thanked you and changed the topic quicker than she downed her alcohol.

You had been pleasantly surprised, and amused, because she had put the moves on you so fast your head had spun. Her compliments were unique and suave, with a practiced sort of feel to them that still made you feel unique. She just couldn’t take what she dished out.

“Keep talking like that and I’ll tell Babette to put you on a corner.”

“You wouldn’t dare.”

Silence.

A glance up provided you with a view of Sevika’s smug smirk.

“Sevika, there’s no way you’d let me work at the brothel.”

“Why the hell not? Go make Momma some money.”

“You’re stupid.” You nuzzled your head into her chest like you would a pillow, only much harsher than necessary.

“I wouldn’t have anything to worry about.” Laughter was so audible in her voice, you could taste the clever quip she thought up and was so proud of.

When you didn’t respond, her shoulder jostled you from where you laid, trying to peacefully settle into sleep.

“Fucking what?” You griped. Gods, she was rubbing off on you too much (and you, her, apparently.)

“Ask me why I wouldn’t have to worry.” Her voice was obnoxiously loud around her chuckles, easily disrupting the quiet of the room like she did everywhere else.

“No.” More probes with her arm. “Stop bothering me while I’m trying to sleep.”

“I wish I had the words to explain how much I don’t care. Ask me.”

“Sevika.”

Your name was thrown back at you, full of energy and void of the exhaustion that was present five minutes ago.

“You wouldn’t have to worry because they would pay not to have me. Was that the punchline?”

Like a leech, you fed off of the disappointment and joy that you sucked out of her as you ruined her joke.

“You’re no fun.”

[inhuman-obey-me]

Payback's a Murder

Word Count: 2k Description: Mammon may be the Avatar of Greed and may constantly try to con his brothers, but others who try to do the same will find themselves at the wrong end of his murder. Part of the A Demon's Nature series. Finally got back to this, so here we go with Mammon's turn! Note: Mulciber is a demon mentioned in John Milton's Paradise Lost. He served under Mammon and was an architect. Can also be found on AO3 here. content warning: blood, body horror, torture via the sharp ends of birds

The Avatar of Greed often found himself in trouble, whether it be because he stole personal belongings to sell or tried to cheat someone out of cash or … well, there were a lot of ways. Call him reckless, but when he saw an opportunity to make some cold, hard Grimm, he wasn’t about to pass it up!

But if someone tried to cheat him out of something? That wouldn’t do. Few dared to try it if they knew just who they were dealing with, but that didn’t stop some from trying anyway. They always regretted it afterwards.

The real issue, however, was if someone tried to cheat his brothers out of something. After all, he was the only one allowed to rip them off (that was his justification, anyway). The moment he finds out someone else tried to play confidence demon with any of them, it was a one-way ticket to the Great Mammon’s Beatdown Extravaganza.

He was walking by Leviathan’s room earlier when he heard a loud crash, some swearing, and a slight rumble under his feet. After some door breaking, tackling, and forcing his hotheaded brother to not summon Lotan, he found out what had made him so upset. Apparently, there was some demon running around with elaborate schemes swindling others -- well, nerds -- out of their money. He went on to explain something that Mammon did not at all understand -- as was usual when he got into his otaku rambling. If his brother had not been so upset, Mammon would have commended the guy for knowing how to target and hit a jackpot.

After some additional pestering, Mammon managed to get a rough description of this third-rate demon and realized he had a pretty good idea of just who it was. It was someone far closer to him than he’d like to admit.

So now here he was, leaning against the bar at one of the Devildom’s many clubs, drink in hand as he monitors the floor. If he was right, he would see the other cozening demon somewhere here tonight, so now it was just a waiting game. As Lucifer had told him repeatedly, You have to show that you’re Number Two. He planned to make that very clear tonight.

He felt the pulse of the bass vibrating through his body as the DJ amped up their music, more and more demons flowing into the space as the prime clubbing hours arrived. A few who noticed Mammon acknowledged his presence, some whispering about how he seemed to look way more serious than normal. The Avatar of Greed, not partying the night away already? Strange.

His patience was just about to run out when he caught a glimpse of just the demon he was seeking out. Hair as orange as a flame, he wasn’t too hard to spot amongst the crowd of more muted succubi surrounding him. Mammon downed the rest of his drink in one go, wiping his mouth with the sleeve of his jacket as he made his way to his target.

“Mulciber. Already getting started, huh?”

“M-Mammon?!” He seemed startled to see the other, but cleared his throat as he regained his cool composure. “It’s good to see you, man! Why don’t you join us all for a drink?” The succubi around him giggled, one daring to lean towards Mammon in an attempt to latch onto his arm, but he quickly placed a hand up to stop her.

“No touchin’, sweetheart.” He shot her a look that made her immediately back away, a pout on her lips. “And that’s a nice offer, Mulcey, but I was hopin’ I could talk to ya real quick in private.”

Mulciber could tell that no was not an option in this conversation, given the serious look in the Avatar’s eyes. “Oh, uh, sure. Sorry ladies, I’ll be back soon. Gotta take care of business!” He gave them a wink as they continued on to the table for their party. Clearing his throat again, he turned back to his superior. “So, what’s shaking, boss?”

Mammon just gave him a smile before nodding his head towards a side door, motioning to accompany him there. The lesser demon complied, following him outside to a side alley. The night air was brisk, causing a shudder to run through Mulciber’s spine. At least, he hoped it was the weather that was making him feel like this …

“I heard ya got up to another scheme.” Mammon fiddled with a lighter, flipping the top off and on with his thumb and a jerk of his hand as he spoke. Click, click, click, click. “Wanna tell me about it?”

“Oh, uh, yeah, totally!” Mulciber nervously replied, wondering why Mammon seemed so interested. Did he want a cut of the check? Fishing for ideas for his own next get-rich-quick scheme? Or --

Oh.

Oh no.

He suddenly remembered that one of the victims of his scheming had been the very Avatar of Envy. He hadn’t thought much of it at the time, delighting in the fact that he was even able to rip off a Greater Demon. Meant his plan had to be pretty genius, right? But now … now he was starting to realize that he may have just made a big mistake.

“Hm? Ya haven’t said a word, Mulcey-boy.” Mammon turned to face him, tucking the lighter into his pocket. He took a step towards the other, who immediately took a step back -- only to be met with a hard brick wall. “Or didja have a moment of realization?”

“L-Listen, Mammon, I’m sorry! I didn’t know at the time, I swear!” Mulciber brought both his hands up, as if that would stop the other from approaching him.

“Oh? ‘Cuz your face says differently, buddy.” He bared his fangs, the usual gradient in his eyes now glowing a furious gold. There’s a malicious grin on his face as he takes a step back, and then he begins to … whistle?

Mulciber does not like where this is going. He’s heard that tune before and it makes his hairs stand on end. “Look, man, please, I’ll do whatever I have to do to make it up to you!” There’s already desperation in his voice, which almost makes Mammon laugh.

“Glad to hear it. Then ya won’t have a problem with what’s about to happen next, yeah?”

It starts in the distance, a noise that made it feel as if your eardrums were being pierced by a thousand shards of glass. It grows louder and louder, closer and closer. An omen.

Mulciber shrinks against the wall, his grey eyes wide in fear. He knows running is pointless -- the other demon would quickly catch him, and leave him even worse for wear as repercussion. “P-please, Mammon, sir, don’t do this … “

“Didn’t you just say ya’d do whatever ya have to do?” Mammon shakes his head, his wings stretching out wide as if to entrap the lesser demon where he stood. “And you really think suddenly pullin’ out the formalities is gonna get ya any mercy here?”

The flapping of numerous wings now filled the air, a large murder of crows circling in the dark sky above. Their bone-chilling caws and cries rain down upon them as the birds eagerly await their master’s command.

Mammon lunged forward and grasped the other’s jaw, his claws digging into flesh as he brought his face threateningly close. “Pretty ballsy of you to think messin’ with any of us was the right move.” He growled, a rumble in his throat. “Looks like someone needs remindin’ of his place.”

“I-I wasn’t thinkin’ at the time! C’mon, you know how that is, don’t you? I was just thinking of making some big bucks, I didn’t mean to go and step out of line--” Mulciber frantically rambled, trying to ignore the searing pain he was feeling from Mammon’s grip.

“I’m sure that was the case, Mulcey, sure!” If it wasn’t for his mocking smile, the Avatar would have nearly sounded genuine. “But that doesn’t mean you can escape the consequences, ya’know?” He let out a tsk, watching as blood dripped from where he had pierced the other’s skin.

He let go of Mulciber, taking a few steps back as he shook his hand as if to clean it of the ichor. There was no denying the glee he was feeling from this -- it had been a while since he decided to flex his abilities and powers on another. Looking up to the sky, he whistled out another tune, causing the crows to descend.

“He’s all yours.” He commands them in a language only they could understand, and in a flash the black-feathered birds rush in to attack. Their squawks mix with Mulciber’s shrieks as they begin to peck at him with their beaks and scratch him with their claws. Mammon fishes out the lighter from his pocket once more, grabbing a cigarette from the box he had on him with his other hand. Leaning against the opposing alley wall, he lights up and takes a slow drag, watching as the flurry of feathers pulverize his inferior.

The crows tear at Mulciber’s flesh, their sharp beaks riddling his body with small cavities and painting him with his own blood. He continues to cry and scream, though it’s obvious he’s losing energy by the second as they grow weaker in intensity, his body slumping towards the ground. Perhaps he had learned his lesson? Surely, he’s just waiting for it all to stop now, right?

Mammon takes a glance around, humming in delight as he catches sight of a discarded iron pipe. He drops the remains of his cigarette to the ground, stomping it out before retrieving his now makeshift weapon. It feels cool and light in his hand, and he gives it a small toss in the air before catching it again with a satisfied smile.

“Alright, alright. You all can leave him alone now.” Mammon commands his murder once more, followed by another whistle to let them know they could go back to doing whatever they were doing before now. One of them flew over to Mammon, perching on the metal rod in his hand, looking up at him with a puffed up chest in pride as blood stained its beak.

“Yes, who’s my good lil’ birdie?” Mammon cooed, scratching the crow under its chin. “Go get yerself cleaned up, okay?” It cawed in delight before flying off to join the rest, who were fading back into the dark night sky. The Avatar of Greed shook his head fondly before turning his attention back to the matter at hand.

Mulciber lay crumpled on the ground, though was making efforts to sit upright as he gasped for breath. His body hurt all over, as if every inch of him had been pierced with needles. He feebly looked up to meet Mammon’s gaze, a whimper leaving him as he noticed the rod in his hand.

“What? I couldn’t let my birds have all the fun, now could I?” Mammon grasped the rod firmly in both hands before swinging it down with a deafening crack as it hit the other, who let out another sharp cry of pain.

“Hm, perhaps just another for good measure.” Whack. Another wail.

“Okay, okay. One more.” Whack. Another splatter of blood.

Content at the shuddering and sniveling mass that was left, Mammon kneeled down to get close to Mulciber’s ear, his next words full of menace. “Ya really should have stuck to the building business. Keep that in mind in the future, ‘kay?”

Mammon stood up and let the iron rod clatter to the ground, its hollowness ringing into the night. He made his way back inside to order another drink, ignoring the whispers and stares from the others in the club. It was doubtful that Mulciber would make an appearance here after what had happened for a while.

He knocked on the bar counter, getting the attention of the bartender. “Give me a glass of your finest whiskey. Put it on Mulciber’s tab.”

[redrobin-detective]

handknit sweater, never worn

How did Valerie end up in these kinds of situations? Of course there had to be a large scale ghost attack at her school. Val had gotten rid of most of the ghosts, weak mindless things when part of the auditorium collapsed, trapping her inside. Normally she’d blast her way out but the old building was creaking ominously from who know how many fights. Her rockets might collapse the whole south side of the school, meaning she was stuck here while the Fentons cleaned up the rest of the small fry. And to make matters worse, Danny’s dad had had the brilliant idea to put up a portable ghost shield around parts of the school to contain the ghosts. Meaning Phantom and the spooky vampire ghost were stuck with her too.

“Ugh this sucks,” Phantom whined, leaning petulantly against the ghost shield. His arms were crossed and his eyes lidded with annoyance, he almost could have passed for a normal, annoyed high schooler if you ignored his unnatural glow. “They really increased the power on these shields, I hope they’re okay out there by themselves. I think most of the students were evacuated already.” He glanced subtlety over at her which only increased her irritation. It was so aggravating he knew everything about her while she knew nothing about him.

“Madeline’s handiwork no doubt,” The vampire guy, Plasmius, commented flippantly. “I don’t believe Jack could assemble a sandwich without her assistance.” Phantom bristled a bit at the comment but just turned to glare at empty air. While she’d once mistaken them for friends, it was clear there was serious bad blood between Plasmius and Phantom. 

“What are you even doing here, Plasmius?” Phantom hissed, crossing his arms closer to his chest in aggravation. “I’ve told you a million times to stay out of Amity.”

“Or you’ll do what, dear boy?” Plasmius grinned, flashing his fangs, like Phantom had told a particularly funny joke. Val privately considered the ghost boy to be one of the strongest ghosts she’d ever fought so if this guy was treating him like an annoying fly... Valerie kept her weapons up just in case but otherwise stayed away from the two volatile ghosts. She could take them down if she had to but there might be collateral. Right, that’s what she was going to go with.

“Actually,” Plasmius said, his cruel red eyes twinkling with smug glee. “I popped into town to check in on some of my old college friends. See what they’d been up to while I’d been busy with my various projects.”

Phantom kept his casual posture but went rigid, he did a quick glance over at her before moving back over to the ghost. “Now? You’re doing this now?”

“It’s always a good time to hurt you and besides,” another throaty chuckle, “I thought Ms. Grey might be interested.” Ok, was there any ghost that didn’t know her identity?

“Anyway, the wife was out but I found my fat, stupid old friend,” another twitch from Phantom, “back at his old favorite past time of knitting. It looked like he was making a sweater.”

“You’re a real bastard, you know that?” Phantom hissed, his form looking more and more defensive by the minute. Valerie had no idea what they were talking about but it clearly was upsetting the Ghost Kid. Usually she’d be pleased but it was kind of uncomfortable to watch.

“Hmm,” the vampire ghost hummed, still radiating cruel satisfaction. “I’m sure you’ve seen it too considering how often you’re in that house. He was working so hard on it, so furiously. No doubt trying to get it done in time for Christmas. A beautiful, handmade sweater for his wayward son who’s never going to get the chance to wear it.”

Oh shit, Plasmius was talking about Phantom’s dad. She’d assumed the beef between them started once they’d become ghosts but clearly there was history that extended to when they’d both been alive. Imagining Phantom alive, with parents... it was too weird.

“Shut up, I’m going to wear the sweater,” Phantom muttered weakly, curling in on himself. He’d scooted as far away from Plasmius as he could get. 

“Oh but he’s not making it for you, Danny Phantom,” Plasmius lilted with a smirk causing Phantom to wince. “He’s making it for his normal, human son who he doesn’t even have the brains to realize doesn’t exist anymore. Would he bother to spend so much time and energy on a sweater that could only be worn by a ghost? To see proof of his own failure as a father?”

“Hey, it was my fault,” Phantom defended, finally snapping out of his sad and guilty funk. He balled his fists and glared at Plasmius with all he had. “I don’t blame them for what happened, I love them and they love me and nothing you say will ever change that!”

“Then why don’t you tell them, Daniel,” Plasmius asked with a raised eyebrow. “If you’re so confident in their love, then tell them. Tell them the sweater is pointless because you thrive in the cold. Tell them that their mistakes and negligence led to you becoming an unnatural abomination not fit to exist in either world.”

“Only-” Phantom’s voice caught and he cleared his throat and tried again. “Only if you tell them first. You may have been their friend at one point a long time ago but all you’ve done since then is hurt people, hurt me. For all their flaws, I don’t think they’ll ever forgive you for that.”

“Touché, son,” Plasmius scoffed. “Now then, I’m afraid our discussion will have to continue another time. I believe the power on the ghosts shield should be fading right about...” a low whine and the green wall surrounding them disappeared. “Ta ta for now you petulant child. Ms. Grey, a pleasure as always. Be careful with this one, he’s an experienced cheat and a liar.” With those parting words, Plasmius disappeared in a swirl of pink.

Valerie thought Phantom would leave too but instead he let out a long breath and ran his gloved fingers through his hair. After a moment he straightened himself up and looked as cool and confident as he ever did. 

“The Fentons have probably rounded up the rest of the ghost but we might as well check, you check by the cafeteria and I’ll go through the classrooms.”

“Why?” Valerie found herself asking, not sure what she meant. Why did Phantom die? Why was he so afraid to let his apparently still living parents know what happened? Why did he try so hard to help people when everyone, including her, was so against him?

“It’s the right thing I guess,” Phantom shrugged, rubbing at the back of his neck. “My uh my parents raised me that way and if it lost that after everything, well, then the person I was before really will be gone.” He floated over to her, gently phasing them both through the wreckage connecting them to the rest of the school and, for a second Valerie saw a scared, human kid in over his head. Then the illusion was gone and it was just Phantom, annoying as always.

“Check the classrooms and if there’s no ghosts then I’m gunning for you,” Val said instead, activating her hoverboard and speeding off before he could answer. She readied her weapons and didn’t think of childless parents living in ignorance of what they’d lost or lonely sons who were too afraid to ask if their parents would love them even as a monster. 

She just wanted to get the ghost scum out of her school and move on with her life. But still, she couldn’t help but think that, come Christmas time, she’d find Phantom in a handknit sweater intended to ward off a chill he could not longer feel. 

[1kook]

commercial break; SEVEN

this is part of my netflix & chill series ! happens a few months before part 7 

summary; And lastly, Jungkook will bring it full circle by indulging you two in some good old fashion spooky sex where he nuts inside you because the only thing scarier than a scary movie is a pregnancy scare. It’s a perfect plan.  warnings; horny jk, jk wants to roleplay... everyone point n laugh, mentions of his impreg kink lol, making out, tits, honestly jk is just very horny n in love lol, jk in a vampire costume w fangs O_o rating; mature (18+) wc; 2k

notes; if u don’t know who lindsay is first of all ur sick, second of all here’s my queen’s top moments. also i just gotta say, this was originally gonna be a larger fic (a halloween special) for my ncouple, but i got a lil busy with school n ultimately didn't have time to invest in this as a whole installment so..... enjoy this commercial break instead!!

Jungkook loves Halloween.

He loves the pumpkin carving and the decorating. Loves the spooky music and the abundance of candy. He loves it, absolutely adores it, and for the second year in a row, he gets to spend it with you! Yet another person he loves very much.

He doesn’t remember ever being this excited for Halloween. Last year, you had roped him into going to some frat party with him, had egged him on, begged so cutely that it was your last year in college, baby until he caved. The two of you had spent the night drinking until you blacked out, Ubering home with your costumes half on, and then unceremoniously fucking in his living room with the blinds wide open.

(The next neighborhood meeting had been very awkward for Jungkook.)

It was his first time ever drinking with you like that, and he vaguely remembers, through his own drunken gaze, how cool you had been. Had absolutely owned a bunch of greasy football players at beer pong in your little sexy nurse costume. And when the crowd cheered your name, shrieked in awe, it had been him that you turned to for praise. “Did you see me, baby,” you had giggled, crowded him against the wall of this random house until Jungkook was sweating profusely. In lieu of a costume, he had worn a silly jogger set with a skeleton design that was supposed to glow in the dark, according to Amazon. You had told him he looked adorable, had kissed and squeezed his cheeks until Jungkook was a flustered mess.

It was still early into your relationship— if Jungkook did the math, you were only about five months in at that point —so he didn’t know how else to cope with the rapid thundering of his heart, the confession sitting on his tongue, the then scary L-word begging to be heard. So, he took you home and fucked you until your little nurse cap slid off your head and you were begging for him to let you cum, thus earning him his first ever offense for violating the neighborhood rules (i.e., traumatizing a group of middle schoolers by fucking in plain sight).

Long story short, Jungkook loves Halloween, and he loves it even more when he gets to spend it with you.

(He’ll never admit it, but he’s a hard romantic. He wants to do cheesy things with you, like cuddle you into his arms when you get scared, pat your head until you can look at whatever is happening on screen again. He wants you to feel safe in his arms, wants to be your refuge when things become too much. He likes to think he’s done a pretty good job so far.)

Jungkook’s plan goes like this:

First, welcome you with that Halloween basket you’ve been sending him tweet links about all month. The cute little Jack-O-lantern candy bucket stuffed with candy and hair ties and a soft Halloween themed blanket. It’s so cheesy, makes him blush when he catches sight of it in his closet, but Jungkook will do anything to please you.

Next, after presenting you with your Halloween gift and having you coo and tell him he’s a good boy, he’ll invite you to break your new soft blanket in. The living room will be prepared with an assortment of your favorite foods, the flat screen ready to play whatever horror movie the two of you settle on.

And lastly, Jungkook will bring it full circle by indulging you two in some good old fashion spooky sex where he nuts inside you because the only thing scarier than a scary movie is a pregnancy scare.

It’s a perfect plan.

It’s the best way to spend his favorite holiday, with his favorite girl by his side and some of his favorite horror films on the big screen. Jungkook spends all of October geeked up for it, even considers hanging up lights around the living room to really set the mood. He’s so excited, can’t wait to spend another wonderful holiday at home with you, that he doesn’t fully realize why you haven’t brought up the long awaited topic of costumes.

“You like?” you ask, standing at the door of his bathroom with a sultry look in your eye, tits practically pouring out of the tight top you’ve wiggled into, skin oiled up scandalously. He fumbles with the fake vampire fang prosthetics he’d been trying to glue in for the better half of an hour.

He had heard the door open downstairs when you got here, had called out his mandatory greeting as he heard you come up the stairs. But none of that had prepared him for the sight of you in… whatever this was.

Jungkook doesn’t really understand exactly what you’re supposed to be dressed up as until the two of you are back downstairs—blinds drawn, full moon slipping in through the cracks—with some random horror movie pulled up on the TV. “I’m Lindsey,” you whine, brand new fluffy blanket wrapped around your shoulders. It shields your boobs from view, but he’s not sure if that’s a win or a loss. “From Total Drama Island!”

He settles in beside you, doesn’t get too comfortable because it’s nearing sundown now and he knows the herds of children are bound to start flowing in. “Uh huh,” he says mindlessly. His collar feels itchy, the overly-detailed vampire costume he meticulously scoured the internet for being one size too small. You snuggle into his side anyway.

“You don’t know anything about cinematic masterpieces,” you frown, avidly tuned into The Texas Chainsaw Massacre: The Beginning, because apparently you love horror movies all of a sudden, a fact that genuinely throws Jungkook off. He’s not sure what it is about you that had deluded him into thinking you would be a scaredy cat, but he doesn’t take the new bit of information too hard.

The doorbell rings right as the first gorey scene ends and you make a big show of huffing and whining as he rushes to answer it. But it’s only the beginning of the long night that awaits, and, as Jungkook comes to find, running back and forth from the door to the couch is harder than it seems.

Anyway, Jungkook’s neighborhood is a little posh, or ‘bougie’ as you like to claim, and trick-or-treating hours end a little before eleven pm. By then he’s tired, having refused your offer to switch places in fear that your boob might fall out of that scrap of fabric you call a top and earn him his second neighborly offense.

However, that doesn’t mean he’s opposed to your boobs falling out in private.

“Stupid,” you giggle when he gets caught in his long cape, the sound slowly melting into a whimper as he slips his hands beneath your top, fighting with the ridiculous push-up bra you’ve donned tonight. Hands tangle in his hair, mess up the careful side part he’d styled up for tonight, and legs lock around his waist. “Your curtains closed?” you tease.

He huffs, catches your chatty lips with his roughly, presses and presses until your mouth must bruise. He belatedly remembers about those sharp fangs he’d glued on—hey, if he was going to dress up as some gaudy monster it might as well be realistic—and doesn’t realize until he tries to bite your neck and you let out a little yelp. Truthfully, he feels bad right away, but then you’re practically dissolving in his arms so he plays along. “Shh,” he hisses.

The roar of a chainsaw and terrified screams fill the living room, almost drowning out the soft sounds you release by his ear. “O- Or what?” you pant, flinch when he pushes your sad excuse of a skirt up over your waist. “Gonna b- bite me?”

And so Jungkook does.

You shriek. “That hurts, you idiot!” you scold with a tiny whine in your voice, but Jungkook’s cock is so hard. Your tiny, tight outfit does you no favors. Tits in his face, tiny thong against his bulge. He wants to make you sob, litter bites and marks all over your skin until his love makes you ache. You must see the crazed look in his eyes, because you drop the scowl. “Hey,” you say slowly, hand on his chest. “You look like you’re gonna eat me.”

He lets go of a breath he hadn’t known he was holding. He wonders if you can feel his thundering heart beneath your palm. “Fuck,” he sighs, leaning away to regain his senses. Was it something in the air? Was it the fatigue? The full moon? Why did he want to fold you in half and fuck his cock into you until you were a crying, shivering mess? Something about you tonight, laid out for him to take, makes him feel absolutely insane. Starved and psycho; he just wants to take and take until you don’t have anything more to give. He purses his lips, tries to ignore the hot feeling in his lower abdomen when your hardened nipples register to his eyes. “I think I’m becoming evil.”

Of all the idiotic things his brain can come up with, this one is definitely top five. His cheeks flush right after, fueled by the boisterous laughter that escapes your lips at his statement. “Oh my god,” you gasp in glee, hands falling down beside your head. “You’re becoming evil?’

Jungkook frowns, flopping down on top of you to hide the embarrassment that paints his face. “Shut up,” he mumbles against your neck, warm and safe.

A hand cards through the back of his hair, nails dig lightly into his scalp. “Aren’t you the cutest little vampire,” you coo, seemingly ignoring the rock hard cock Jungkook presses against your thigh. He’s still so horny, has this sick thought that he could just pin you down right here, tear that silly costume to shreds and swallow you up in his lust. But your voice is so sweet, has his eyes fluttering shut as you gather him in his arms. “Silly vampire,” you hum, one leg thrown around his hip, a subtle roll of you hips up into him.

Jungkook huffs, licks a flat strip along the base of your neck. It draws a shaky exhale from you, has your hands digging into his back when he begins to slowly lap against the skin, nibble and tug until your back is deliciously arching up into him. “Wanna push you down,” he confesses quietly, hands securing themselves against your hips as he leans back. You're all dazed, eyes trained on his fanged mouth when he hesitantly adds, “l- little human.”

You could laugh, tease him for his sudden weird need to role play with you, but you don’t. A look of understanding crosses your face, sly smirk slowly following. “Oh?” you grin, hand coming around to cup his cheek. “The little vampire wants to use my body?” Jungkook tightens his jaw at your jab, but nods nonetheless.

You’re a feast before his eyes. Boobs in his face, pussy begging to be filled. You’re his, just like Jungkook is yours. And when you indulge him and his stupid whims—kinks, he should say, occasional interests that sometimes make him question himself—his heart feels warm and full. Proud and unashamed, like the truest version of himself when you look at him with those eyes. And your words only confirm it.

Your hands reach down for your top, pull the flimsy material over your head in one swoop that has your bra coming off with it. It drops to the floor. If it makes a sound, Jungkook doesn’t hear it over the shrieks of terror on screen. the blood deaths, the suspenseful music. All he hears is he hammering of his heart. 

It’s two of your sneaky fingers that come up to play, pinch one nipple tenderly as you meet his eyes. “It’s all yours,” you purr. “I’m all yours.”

And the thirst he feels, well. It’s a little vampiric, to say the least. 

—

Copyright © 2020, 1kook on tumblr. absolutely NO reposts allowed.

[riddlegecko]

Ziggs and Emma just being fucking dumbasses while high.

This isn't really much of anything, just two dumbass stoner pals shootin' the shit.

"...and then I decked her square in her plastic-ass nose!"

"God, you're so lucky..."

It was another average night at Perky's Buds. Emma and Ziggy were performing "quality assurance" for their product, and swapping high school stories while music from the farmhand's "chill as fuck vibes" playlist crooned away from their phone's speaker. The kinda peaceful night the pair both desperately needed after a long day of harvesting marijuana crops. Emma was just finishing up a story about how she once decked Linda Monroe as a freshman.

"Yeah, she may be three years older than me," Emma mused, taking a quick puff of her joint. She took a moment to hold up her left arm, flexing her bicep. "But nothing beats a left hook from a small, angry freshman powered by spite."

Ziggy snickered. "How does it feel knowing that you've done something most Hatchetfielders can only dream of doing?" they asked in awe.

"Feels good, feels powerful," Emma replied, nodding sagely. She turned to her farmhand. "Alright, your turn. You got anymore funny stories?"

Ziggs stared up at the ceiling, looking deep in thought. "Um..." they hummed in contemplation. Suddenly, a look of delighted recollection blossomed on their face. "Oh my god, have I told you about the Stacey's Melons thing?"

Double-taking, Emma shot a puzzled look at her employee. "The Stacey's what now thing?"

Ziggs burst into a fit of excited laughter. "Okay, so," they began, still chuckling. "At the end of my senior year at HF High, we had like our final exams and shit, right?"

Emma nodded, curious to see where this was going.

"I don't remember what test it was," they continued. "But there was this one question that made everybody lose their shit. Everyone called it Stacey's Melons. Hang on, I think I snuck a pic of it..."

"Oh god." Emma interjected with a grin as Ziggy scrolled through their camera roll.

"Here it is!" they exclaimed after a moment. Their eyes skimmed the screen, and they began snickering once more. "You ready for this?"

"I'm not sure I am."

"Well, here it is anyway," Ziggs said. They cleared their throat and began to read. "Stacey has two plump melons. Each one is perfectly spherical with a diameter of twenty centimeters..."

Emma already had to bite her lip to stop herself from cackling.

"Jessica walks in with a big pair of jugs," Ziggs continued, audibly stifling their laughter. "If she squeezes Stacey's melons with a force of ten grams per square centimeter, how long will it take before Jessica's jugs are full and ready to put to your lips?"

A beat. Then, laughter of hyena-like proportions burst forth from the two farmers. Emma lightly drummed her free hand on the couch cushion in hysterics.

"Holy shit!" she exclaimed between laughs. "They had to have known what they were doing there!"

"I know, right!?" Ziggy agreed, stuffing their phone back in their pocket. "You could always tell when someone got to that question, because you'd just hear someone snickering in the otherwise dead silence of the classroom."

"God, that's incredible," Emma snickered, wiping a tear from her eye. She took a second to catch her breath, before busting out into another quick giggle fit. "Shit!"

"You wanna know the best part?" Ziggs asked. "I got a text from one of my old Smoke Club buddies a few months ago- he hadn't graduated yet, and apparently they reused the question for this school year's exams!"

Emma's eyes widened in surprise. "You're kidding!" she exclaimed.

"I'm not!" Ziggy retorted with glee. "And I guess there was a rumor goin' around that some kid- I think his name was Peter... something? He went to the restroom mid-test to go whack off after getting to that question."

"Jesus fucking Christ..." Emma huffed out in disbelief, shaking her head with a smile.

"Yeah, it was pretty fuckin' wild," Ziggs mused. "Okay, your turn."

[five-rivers]

Adoption (part 2)

A gift for @a-flower-lover!  This wound up being more along the lines of vignettes...  Little snapshots into Danny’s life after being adopted by Clockwork.  I hope that’s ok!  (PART 1)

.

Mr. Lancer had met Charles Worth before, albeit briefly. The man had fostered a number of Casper High students and with that responsibility came parent-teacher conferences. He had struck Mr. Lancer as being steady and reliable, if, perhaps, impersonal, despite his predilection for clocks and ominous announcements. A decent foster parent, if not... ideal.

Mr. Worth just didn't seem to connect with his fosters, although he certainly didn't neglect them. Then, too, were the persistent rumors that his home was haunted.

Alright. So, Mr. Lancer didn't think Charles Worth was really a children person. Oh, he was a good person! It took one to do well as a foster parent, but... yeah.

Which was why the scene in front of him surprised him so much. Not the who of it, but the what.

The who was Daniel Fenton and Charles Worth waiting outside the office. The what was smiling and having a conversation. True, Mr. Fenton's smile looked like it was pasted on over several layers of anxiety, but it was genuine.

"Mr. Worth, Mr. Fenton?" he said, tamping down his surprise. "Come on in."

"Hi," said Mr. Fenton, his voice hoarse.

Mr. Worth smiled and nodded, pushing him up with his cane.

But Mr. Fenton must have noticed the curious look Mr. Lancer was giving him. "I knew Cl- Uh. Mr. Worth before this." He winced and smiled widely to cover it up. "So, uh, make up work? Since I missed the past week?"

"Yes, well, circumstances being what they are," aka his parents trying to murder him in public, in broad daylight (and didn't that give Mr. Lancer a chill?), "your teachers have put together a few packets for you to look over this weekend. They should get you more or less up to speed with where your classes are. I'm also willing to stay after school, to help you with anything you've missed in my classes."

.

Jazz knocked on the door of the Worth house. She had been made aware, via various supernatural (she did not particularly appreciate writing suddenly appearing on her fogged-up bathroom mirror) and mundane (Danny did have her phone number) means, that the man known as Charles Worth was actually the ghost known as Clockwork.

How this had occurred was not entirely clear to her. She assumed ghost powers, specifically time travel, were involved somehow.

But, to be honest, that didn't really matter to her. It was secondary, less than.

What was important here was that she hadn't been legally allowed to see her little brother in over a month. To keep her parents from contacting him. To keep her from letting her parents near him. Because they were legally barred from seeing him.

Because they had tried to kill him.

Jazz planned on never seeing her parents again, as soon as she got all of her and Danny's things from their house.

But now that prohibition had been lifted, because Clockwork had forced through what had to be the speediest adoption in the history of adoptions, and Danny was now legally his son. In the eyes of both humans and ghosts. Which was... Well. Danny seemed to be excited about it, anyway. He'd looked up to Clockwork for a while, from what he told Jazz.

Internally, Jazz had more than a bit of trepidation. She didn't know what adoption meant to ghosts, didn't have any context for it. And ghosts, even the good ones, even Danny, tended to be... obsessive. Extreme. She wasn't sure how that would translate when it came to interpersonal relationships.

The door creaked open, ever so slowly, the squeak it made grating on her eardrums. At first, it appeared to have opened on its own, then a hand gripped the edge of the door, and Clockwork, in human guise, leaned out from behind it.

Jazz raised an eyebrow.

Clockwork raised one right back. "This house is haunted, you know," he said.

Okay, never mind. The only thing she had to worry about was the fact that her brother and his mentor both had terrible senses of humor.

"Hi, Jazz!"

Being used to having a half-ghost brother, Jazz only yelped a little bit at his unexpected appearance behind her. Then she sighed and ruffled his hair. He hugged her and then bounced over the lintel into the house.

"Come on! I want to show you my room! It's so cool!" His voice became fainter as he went farther into the house, until his last exclamation was an eerie whisper.

Jazz looked at Clockwork as she stepped inside. "Is he doing that on purpose?"

Clockwork smiled blandly. "I am very fond of the acoustics in this house."

She looked at her surroundings with a skeptical eye. "It seems... dark in here."

"We are ghosts," said Clockwork. "Daniel is very excited to show you his room, by the way."

"He's human, too, don't forget," said Jazz.

"I won't."

.

The house was creepy.

Really creepy.

This was coming from someone who had spent most of her life living under the same roof as two ghost-obsessed mad scientists.

But Danny seemed to enjoy it, and he was the one living here. It wasn't like there was anything wrong with the house. Or anything in the house. It was just... off.

Danny was half-ghost, however, so maybe this was something he needed. Perhaps not all of his peppiness could be attributed to being the heck away from his murderous former parents.

Even so. Jazz had a duty, both as a big sister and an aspiring psychologist.

"I already read it," said Clockwork, setting a cup of tea down in front of her.

"What?"

"The book you were about to give me. I've already read it. And a number of others. I am not the kind of person who goes into things unprepared."

Danny rolled into the kitchen on the ceiling. This was easy to ignore. After her life, an Exorcist reference made by her over-excited younger brother, was, well. Underwhelming.

(Okay, she was a little distracted, but only by his glee.)

"Well," she said. "That's good."

.

"I know this house is out of the way," said Clockwork, craning his neck to look up at his coworker, "but you are rather conspicuous."

"Hm. Am I?" asked Pandora, craning her neck down to look at her comparatively tiny colleague.

"Yes. At that size, humans with average eyesight will be able to see you from town."

Pandora looked out over the trees. "Interesting," she said, mildly. "Do you think the ghost hunters will come?"

"You've spoken to Daniel."

"Yes. He stopped by earlier today, on his way to visit Mattingly. Although, I suppose you knew that already."

"Indeed I did. May I ask, is it your intention to lure the ghost hunters here, fight them, defeat them, and then leave them just close enough to here to constitute a breach of their terms of bail and the restraining order against them?"

"I am not terribly well-versed in human law," said Pandora, "but, why, yes. That is exactly what I'm doing. Best to get it done while Daniel is visiting friends, isn't it?"

"Yes. If you had done this while he was here, I would be significantly more annoyed." Clockwork smiled the sanguine smile of a parental figure who would commit murder if their child was upset.

Pandora returned a matching grin, one that promised retribution against persons who had harmed said child in the past. "Please, Clockwork. You know me better than that. I wouldn't subject him to being in the presence of those fools."

"Good," said Clockwork, eyes glinting.

.

"Hey, Clockwork? Do you know why there were police cars driving down the- Oh. Hello?" He stopped at the sight of an unfamiliar woman sitting at the dinning room table, next to Clockwork. He blinked and tilted his head to the side. "Wait. Pandora?"

"Perceptive," said the superficially human olive-skinned woman. "You seemed so happy when you stopped by, earlier. I thought I would come check in on you."

"You didn't have to," said Danny, beaming.

"Pandora has been trying to convince me to set her up as one of my relatives," said Clockwork, rolling his eyes. "Would you care for a cup of tea, Daniel?"

"Umm," said Danny, dubiously. "I'll try one, I guess. Does that mean you'll be my aunt?"

Pandora smiled. "Why, yes, it does."

Clockwork groaned theatrically.

.

"Ah," said Mr. Lancer, at the next parent-teacher conference. "Are you Mr. Worth's wife?"

"No," said Pandora, grinning. "I'm his sister."

Mr. Lancer looked back and forth between the two very different-looking entities. "I... see."

"We're adopted," said Clockwork.

"Oh! Alright then. Now, about Daniel..."

.

It was a bit strange to see Danny with so much energy, Sam reflected. Strange, but good.

It just went to show how drained he had become over time, how much the constant ghost attacks and worry, all the lies and stress and impossible expectations had worn away at him over time. She hadn't seen her friend this happy since freshman year. If that.

On the other hand...

"Dude," said Tucker. "Your house is spooky. And this is coming from someone who's been inside a literal mad science lab."

Danny rolled his eyes. "Mad science labs are campy, not spooky. Besides, you knew coming in that this house was haunted." He draped himself over the back of the couch, rolling until he was 'sitting' upside-down. "Anyway, what kind of movie do you want to watch? We've got a bunch, because Clockwork apparently collects media from doomed timelines."

"He's got a hobby?" asked Sam.

"Yeah, three," said Danny. "Gardening- you should talk to him about that, by the way, I think he'd like it- baking, and alternate timeline movies. And some books, too, I think. He's got a huge library back in Long Now. I've read like. Two books from it."

Clockwork's voice floated in from the other room. "You've read significantly more than that, Daniel."

"I guess," said Danny, doubtfully. He flopped off the couch, picked himself up, and started prodding at a shelf of movies. "This is from a timeline where the Earth got beaned by a massive asteroid. It's, like, a romcom, but it was made when everyone knew the asteroid was coming. This one is, uh, this is actually a dramatization of real events, apparently, but their timeline split from ours in like the fifties, so the events are pretty wild." He waved the DVD at them. "It's surreal?"

"How'd they die?" asked Tucker.

"Wacky superscience. No, really. Irradiated the entire planet."

"How do you know?" asked Sam.

"Oh, Clockwork puts notes on the boxes. He thinks it's interesting. And there does seem to be some correlation between how cursed the movies are and how bad the timeline was. Which maybe shouldn't surprise me? I mean, if they were bad timelines..." He shrugged. "Oh, this is a CGI Lion King. I can tell you: very cursed. Absolutely soulless. And this is from a timeline where copyright laws weren't changed, so Mickey Mouse and a bunch of other stuff was in the public domain."

"Isn't that a good timeline?" joked Sam.

"You'd think so," agreed Danny. "But apartheid in South Africa apparently never stopped, and they got a nuclear bomb, and, well... World War Three."

"Is that like, a domino effect, or...?"

"I'm not sure... Anyway. Uh. Genre?" He clapped his hands together.

Tucker leaned forward. "I want the wildest version of the Matrix you have."

"Ooh, good choice. There are, like, six with Will Smith. I haven't watched them all yet, but I think the one where they've got another sequel and Zion is also a- Wait, I shouldn't spoil it."

"After that, can you see if there's a non-crappy version of Dracula?" asked Sam.

"Sure. I haven't seen one yet, but I will look."

"I have popcorn," said Clockwork, entering the room, "and various baked goods. No dairy."

"You're the best."

.

Clockwork selected a thick blanket from the chest, then teleported himself to the living room to drape it over the three teenagers passed out on the couch. Overall, he found pretending to be human oddly enjoyable, but it could be trying at times. Tedious. All the finicky little motions humans had to go through to do the simplest of things added up over the day.

So, Clockwork tended to ease off of them when no one was watching. It made life easier.

Heh. Life.

(He would say that Daniel's puns were rubbing off on him, but in truth Clockwork's sense of humor had been like that for, well. Eons.)

He put the kitchen in order with an absent wave of his hand, and double-checked the stove out of habit. It wasn't nearly as good as his actual oven, back in Long Now, but it was serviceable.

One of Daniel's friends mumbled in their sleep, and Clockwork looked in on them. Still peaceful. It was good for Daniel to have them here. Beneficial for both his human and ghost halves.

He hummed to himself and patted Daniel's head as he thought about their plans for the weekend. He had arranged for some truly aggravating evangelical missionaries to darken their doorstep. It would do Daniel good to inspire a touch of terror. In an entirely controlled and risk-free way, of course. No matter how unpleasant the people coming were, Clockwork had no intention of harming them, or suggesting anything of the sort.

But, well. They were ghosts. Being feared was soothing.

(Clockwork knew this wasn't what Jasmine meant when she suggested Clockwork engage in family bonding activities with Daniel. But what she didn't know...)

.

"I think my teeth are getting sharper," said Danny, pulling a face at the mirror. "Is that normal?" The last was shouted, to get Clockwork's attention. Intellectually, Danny knew he didn't need to do that, but a lifetime of habit was hard to shake.

"It is difficult to say what is normal for someone like you, but many ghosts do have fangs," said Clockwork. "Including myself."

"Hm," said Danny. "This isn't, like, a ghost puberty thing, is it? Because I already used up most of my evil puberty jokes."

"Oh, only most?" Clockwork slid behind him and started rubbing the tension out of his shoulders.

Danny shrugged. "Eh, give or take. But, seriously."

"No, it isn't a ghost puberty thing."

"Oh, good. Because dealing with one puberty is more than enough."

Clockwork was silent. Danny looked up and met troubled eyes in the mirror.

"Clockwork?"

"Daniel," started Clockwork, before giving Danny an uneasy smile. "Speaking of puberty..."

Danny blanched. "No."

"What?"

"No. Nope. Not doing the talk today, no sir. I got that at school."

"Daniel, as strange as Casper High may be at times, I highly doubt they taught you anything about immortality."

"What."

.

"It's why ghosts put so much forethought into relationships like this," explained Clockwork, careful not to look directly at Daniel's hiding place. "They might last forever. I certainly hope this one does."

"But I don't want to be a teenager forever!" wailed Danny. He had mastered the art of making his voice sound like it was coming from a completely different direction than it actually was.

Clockwork was older than human civilization and had been worshiped as a god by several civilizations. He did not wince at the heartbreak in his child's voice.

"Your shapeshifting abilities should come in after a few years," said Clockwork. "You'll be able to pass as older."

Daniel answered with a moan.

"I must confess, I'm not sure why you are so upset about this. I can see that you are, but could you explain why for me?"

"I don't knoooooowww..."

.

"I don't want everyone to die and leave me alone," admitted Danny, hunched over a carton of ice cream. "I don't want to see my- my people die." He sniffled.

"We don't have to stay in Amity Park if you don't want to," said Clockwork.

Danny shook his head. "No! That's worse," he said, hating how his voice tilted into a whine. "That's- I can't abandon them! I can't- can't miss their time. I just..." He let out a huff of air. "It's hard."

Clockwork wrapped an arm around Daniel's shoulders. "It may not help much," he said, "but people in Amity Park have a much higher chance of becoming ghosts. It's the ectoplasm in the air."

"Promise?" asked Danny.

"Promise. Although, who, exactly, becomes a ghost is outside of my control. All I can tell you is that the people here have a better chance."

Danny leaned against Clockwork. "Thanks," he mumbled. "Clockwork?"

"Yes?"

"You don't think I'm a freak, do you?"

"Of course not."

.

Mr. Lancer squinted down at Daniel Fenton's latest assignment with a mix of appreciation, disbelief, and shame. This was easily the best work he had ever received from Daniel. In fact, it rivaled papers he had received from Jasmine.

It made him wonder- How long had Daniel been suffering? What had Daniel been suffering? He was no expert when it came to abuse, but all teachers had some training, and he knew that abusers tended to escalate, starting with something relatively innocuous and ending with a travesty. For things to progress to attempted murder... What had it started as? When had it begun?

(Could Mr. Lancer have stopped it?)

(That question would haunt him more than any ghost.)

Well, there was a silver lining to this, Mr. Lancer supposed. He had rarely seen two people who got along as well as Daniel and Charles Worth. It was good, he thought, for the man to have someone in his life on a more permanent basis, rather than the revolving door of temporary foster children.

How rapidly the adoption went through was a little odd, but... Mr. Lancer shrugged. Undoubtedly, Mr. Worth had taken the time over his years as a foster parent to familiarize himself with the system, and with Daniel's former parents unfit to be anywhere near children...

He shrugged again and stamped Daniel's paper with an A+.

[onelastbreath-writes]

I Spy

Pairing: Frankie “Catfish” Morales/Fem!Reader (AFAB, no y/n)

Word Count: 1.7K

Warnings: Brief mention of bad(abusive/manipulative) parents, general adult topics, swearing.

Summary: You meet a cute guy at a bar, you date, you fall in love, and oops, it turns out you’ve both been lying about your careers. Classified only stays classified until you get assigned a mission together. (SpecOps&Spies, with Young!Frankie)

A/N: Hey guys, I was bad and started another fic. Whoops. This one is for Triple Frontier because I love that soft boi Francisco. The flavour of this fic, the vibe if you will, is basically the spiderman pointing meme. I’ve vaguely set the timeline to like mid-2000s? so I’ll be trying my best to stay true to technology and aesthetic of the era. There was so much denim. Anyways, that means I’m trying to write for about a 27-33 year old Frankie and a similarly aged reader. I don’t see this series being more than a couple chapters at best, so it’ll be short and sweet. Also, like, very little angst if I can help it; I just want this one to be a good, cute, fun read. Hope y’all enjoy! Xoxo

[AO3][Masterlist]

“So, you’re coming out tonight, right? You’re not busy or anything?”

“Please don’t say it like that, you know how busy work actually is. And I’m a grown woman; if I didn’t want to go to a shady dive bar with you and your very loud friends from the office, I’d say so,” You loved your best friend, and you missed spending time together, but you really couldn’t say the same for her co-workers.

You had nothing against the women she worked with, and you found that they were all perfectly lovely and usually quite fun to be around… it was just that when the alcohol came out, the volume control and verbal filters disappeared.

You wouldn’t say that barhopping was what you’d prefer to be doing tonight, along with more or less babysitting your friend and her friends, but you didn’t know when you’d next be able to squeeze in a night off to just hang out and have fun, so this was happening. You would laugh and smile and keep the drunk secretaries from going home with questionable people, and then you would look back on your ladies’ night with fond memories until you could eventually attend another.

You had known when you picked your career that it would be an around-the-clock, all-day, every-day sort of thing. You never deluded yourself into thinking you would have much of a social life or long-term relationships. Most partners, hell even most friends, would have a problem with you jetting off for weekends, or disappearing for days at a time under mountains of paperwork and appointments.

It just made your best friend that much more important to you. You’d met as kids, went through years of school beside each other, hung out, did stupid teenager things and then stupid young adult things together. You’d cried and laughed and fought and made up a million times, you’d gone to different colleges and still kept in touch, moved away, moved back, and you were still going strong. She was your ride-or-die, your anchor and your parachute and everything in between, so if you could use some of your precious, hoarded, blink-and-you’ll-miss-it time off to see her, that’s just what you’d do.

“You should take some of that fire, and direct it at your boss. Tell him no for a change. I’d love to see his face at that!” She meant well, always trying to look out for you and your health when it came to your beyond demanding job. You weren’t even allowed to tell her a fraction of what you were doing in your professional life, and she knew it, but that didn’t stop her from being ready to throw fists at your employer at a moment’s notice.

“One does not simply tell the über-rich that they don’t need to fly to Paris, again. Being a PA is a full-time nannying gig, except your charge is an adult who can argue when you say no, and you cannot put them on timeout when they’re being a brat. Where he goes, I go, and unless something drastic happens, it will probably continue on like that for a while.” She laughed at your jokes, and your heart hurt a little less at her glee. You knew she would never give up on you or blame you for your work being unpredictable, but that didn’t make the sting of last-minute cancels and missed outings hurt any less, for either of you.

“But it must be nice, just getting on a plane and going somewhere amazing at the drop of a hat. Travelling the world like a superstar, meeting people, having amazing adventures with mysterious strangers…”

“Easy there, Mamma Mia, your wanderlust is showing. And I’d take you with me in a heartbeat if I could. You were born to be a jetsetter, not to be stuck in this town with nothing but the office cubicle beside you to stare at. And I still think you should apply for one of those immersive culture grants you keep mooning over. They’d be fools not to fund your writing expedition!” She was an incredible person, three full degrees to her name in the time it took a normal student to get one, and a brain that could run miles around the rest of the professionals in her field. But she was tethered to this quiet backwater town, and she wasn’t free to fly like she deserved.

“You know I can’t just… go, like you can. My mom, it’d just break her heart… I don’t want to leave her alone, not after Dad,” You honestly doubted that you’d ever meet a woman more horrible and undeserving of her own daughter’s kindness. Helen was a parasite full of lies and manipulations and greed, and she had attached herself like a bad rash to your friend after she’d chased away the rest of her family members.

Your friend searched for the good in everyone, but you wished she’d stop looking for it at that home.

“You deserve your own happiness and freedom, and she should be encouraging you to spread your wings if and when you’re ready.” Politicking your friend was never something you enjoyed. She was the last person you wanted to use your negotiating credentials and sly subterfuge tactics against, but you wanted, needed, her safety and health more. You considered it almost bribery; dangling her dream future in front of her in exchange of being rid of the garbage in her life.

“Hey now, we’re getting way too deep into sad-drunk night conversations, and this is strictly a happy-fun-drunk night. Please leave all baggage and woes at the door, thank you!” You admitted your defeat and surrendered your verbal power point on Why Helen Needs to Disappear. You would get her next time for sure, give her the accelerant to burn down that bridge. “Anyways, the reason I called was to remind you of our haunt for the night. One of the girls, Kelly, you remember Kelly, found this adorable little hole in the wall. A total boys’ club apparently: darts, pool, sports games on the TV, but Kelly’s sister’s friend’s brother Tyler said the place was a favourite of the local army guys. So, if nothing else, we’ll at least have some hunks to look at for a while. It’ll be great!”

You jotted down the directions to the bar as she listed them, and the time you were expected to arrive there.

“Oh! And wear that cute little blue number you bought last spring; I know you still have it so don’t you dare lie. It makes your ass and legs look divine, and I think you could stand to make a new acquaintance tonight.” That Little Blue Number was buried in the back of your closet where you had hoped it would remain forever, but luck was not on your side tonight it seemed. But it did make you look, and feel, fantastic.  It was just so… breezy. “And heels! Real ones, not your cute little personal assistant kitten heels. Those black strappy ones would work like a dream!” You just sighed dramatically into the receiver and agreed to her demands.

“I’ll let you go now, and yes, I suppose I can be presentable tonight, dress and all. See-ya later!”

---

Hole in the wall was right. This place was basically underground it was so on the D.L. It was warm inside though, and in the middle of autumn with so much skin on display, you could not be more pleased to get away from the chilled outside air.

You would describe the interior as comfortable with a hint of rustic; lots of warm dark wood and low lights, mixed with the soft Latin music crooning in the background and the few patrons’ conversations adding to the ambience.

All in all, it was probably the nicest dive bar you’d been to in your hometown.

Your party was easy to spot where they had claimed a group of pushed together tables towards the far side of the establishment, and you carefully made your way over to them in your tricky high heels.

You said your hellos to returning faces and introduced yourself to the new additions, and accepted the chair you were pointed to and the drink pressed into your hand.

And so, the hours rolled.

You had enjoyed two fruity cocktails and a flaming shot before you called it quits on the alcohol for the night. You still had a few hours to sober up enough to drive home safely, and you would be able to help the girls get to their rides and ways home too. You appreciated having a social drink or two, but you didn’t care for hangovers and would happily take slightly tipsy over party-hard drunk anytime. Plus, your contract stated you were on-call, always, and you could be required to navigate high-stress negotiations at the drop of a hat. It was just better to cut yourself off, then reap the consequences of your actions later.

You tapped your friend’s shoulder as you walked past and leaned over to talk into her ear. “I’m getting some water for the table; do you want anything else?”

“Mmmm, no I think we’re good for now, thanks!” She was plastered already, but she had a huge grin on her face and was laughing at her co-workers’ stories, so you considered it a win of a night. You gave her a pat goodbye and swayed your way to the bar.

But you just were not accounting for the uneven floorboards, or how much your heels affected your currently less than steady equilibrium, and before you could blink you were teetering over into a nasty fall.

“Whoa there, easy does it, muñequita” Arms wrapped around you and pulled you back into a warm chest. “Careful now, don’t go twisting an ankle in those fancy shoes.”

You certainly did not account for the man you turned around to face. Wow.

His hands glided respectfully from where he had caught you around the waist to your still bent and held out elbows, steadying you as you swayed dangerously again.

Warm brown eyes, soft brown curls, and the sweetest smile you’d ever seen. It felt like your heart was going to beat out of your chest, and you knew that it wasn’t left over adrenaline from your near wipeout. He was gorgeous and handling you so gently, and you wanted to spend forever in that moment.

“Hey there, palomita, I’m Frankie, can I buy you a drink?”

[Next Part]

[erekiosuncreativeideas]

Being Human - Chapter 23

<= Chapter 22

Summary : Snatcher is taken to a familiar room of the manor. Also available on AO3 : https://archiveofourown.org/works/24826561/chapters/74145501

-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-

(Trigger warning for this chapter : emotional abuse and creepy situation)

HEEEEEEY NEW CHAPTER

SO. Let me put some dates here.

Sunday 4th of April 2021 : chapter 24 will be posted. Thursday 8th of April 2021 : chapter 25 (last chapter) will be posted.

Why do I wait a few days to post the last chapters ? Because I want to draw for them, and, if possible, make as many drawings I can. Hopefully, you'll like this chapter and the last two as well ! Thank you for remaining so passionate about this story since its beginning, it means a lot to me !

The “Oh The Humanity” AU belongs to @doodledrawsthings​​ !

Uh if you’re interested, I post my progress on my chapters on Hatty Fan Time (the AHIT Discord server I’m moderating with two friends), so if you wanna join, go ahead !

Happy reading !

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Chapter 23 : “I can do this, I can… I will do this.”   

-“There we are,” sing-sang the Queen, opening the door leading to the nursery. To Snatcher’s horror, while the room was still relatively damaged, mostly with claw marks on the walls, it remained recognizable. The sight was enough to give him flashbacks of the time they had commissioned this room, of the time they had entered it the first time after it was completed- The former ghost could remember it like it was yesterday: the couple had been so happy, staying in the room for a good hour, imagining how their child would be like, how they wanted to give them as much love as possible… But none of that ever happened.

Instead, the Subcon Freezing had happened, ruining all hope for Snatcher to ever have kids, ruining his dreams of having a family with the woman he loved so, so much.

And now, he was back in that cursed room, a room that was reminding him of what could have been, had things been different.

Snatcher had no choice but to rely on Vanessa so he wouldn’t put any weight on his broken ankle. No need to say this was frustrating… And extremely frightening, having to depend on the one who had mercilessly killed you. The former ghost knew he had no choice anyway and he could do nothing but clench his teeth, hoping nothing would happen. With a swift gesture, the Queen grabbed him by the wrist and pulled him inside, soon closing the door behind them. The sudden movement made him cry out in pain as it forced his body to put weight on his injured ankle. It didn’t take long for Vanessa to notice what had happened and she quickly helped him to straighten, a sickening smile painted on her face.

-“There, there,” she cooed: “It’s okay. You know what you need ?” she then asked, completely out of the blue. A look of fear crossed his features as he heard her words. Oh, this couldn’t be good, now, could it…? The Queen remained silent after her own question and her face grew irritated, which were pretty good indicators that she was waiting for an answer from him. With this realization, the child quickly realized he had to give her a sign, anything- and so, unable to speak, he just shook his head, his whole body trembling from the pain, the fear and the cold.

Seeming satisfied with Snatcher’s reply, even if non-vocal, she smiled again and quickly picked him up without any warning. Naturally, out of surprise, the former ghost gasped and started to struggle. How could he not, when his own murderer was holding him in her arms, without any difficulty? However, it didn’t take much to convince him otherwise: Vanessa’s warning glare and the pain in his ankle from the movements were more than enough.

-“Now, now,” she sermonized him, all while carrying him to the crib. As soon as she got them both closer, he guessed her intents, and his face paled up. God, this nightmare was just becoming even worse- she was going to put him into the crib where their child should have been hundreds of years ago, should they have been born.

This was so disturbing, so creepy-…! But, apparently, Vanessa wasn’t seeing anything wrong with this. She really was taking him for a child, a child she had to care for.

This was sickening.

-“W-wait!” he interrupted her just as she was about to lower him into the pink crib, and she gave him both a confused and annoyed look.

-“What’s the matter?” she asked back, narrowing her eyes and furrowing her brow. Oh, this wasn’t good.

-“I’m… I’m too old to be in a cradle,” he tried, hoping this would be enough, though he couldn’t help but giggle nervously, his eyes looking away in fear they’d see anger on the Queen’s face, maybe worse. She stared at him for a moment… And soon enough, a light laughter left her lips, all trace of annoyance gone from her face, as if those had never been there in the first place.

-“Oh ho ho,” she took a deep breath as she finished laughing, sighing. Snatcher… Didn’t like that.

-“W-what…?” he wondered, his voice trembling from uncertainty and dread. Why would she laugh at something like this?

-“Oh, silly one,” she replied, an even more sickening smile painted on her ghostly lips, one that was letting him see her sharp fangs: “You need to rest, and I have the perfect bed for that. Your age doesn’t matter, does it? Cribs are for children, and you are one, don’t you?” she retorted, as if this was oh so very obvious.

Perhaps she had remained too unstable for years to remember cradles were for young infants, or toddlers. Her madness had affected her perception of reality, so much that she couldn’t see the problem here- or maybe she did, though in that case, why would she care? She had murdered him centuries ago, she wouldn’t feel guilty about forcing a kid into a crib!

And, well, it wasn’t like he could struggle more, seeing his injured ankle. After all, not only did this hurt, but this was also a very good warning of what could happen to him should he resist more. All of his instincts were crystal clear: “wait for the right opportunity”, they instructed him. And so, as the Queen lowered him into the cradle, Snatcher did his best not to cringe at the thought and didn’t resist. Once done, Vanessa stepped back and looked at him with a twisted fondness, one that made Snatcher want to throw up. Though he knew better and stayed still and silent.

-“Aaaw, look at you!” the Queen cooed, as if this was the cutest thing she had even seen in years- which was probably the case, in hindsight: “See, you fit just right!” At this remark, the young Prince examined the crib. Yeah, sure, he could fit while sitting- but lying down? This was another story. With the body of a twelve years old kid, or around that age, it was obvious this was the worst choice ever for a bed.

Although… Although this was much, much better than being put in Vanessa’s, he just realized. A chill ran down his spine at the thought. Yeah… Yeah, the cradle wasn’t so bad in comparison.

Snatcher’s thoughts were interrupted as he heard a clap of hands next to him- and unsurprisingly, it was her.

-“Good!” she spoke again: “Now that you’re ready to rest, I’ll bake some cookies!” She started to walk to the door and the former shade felt relieved at the idea of her leaving him alone- but just before exiting the room, she stopped and turned to him, a knowing smile on her lips:

-“Stay in the bed and sleep, alright?” she told him, and Snatcher had no trouble to detect that this was not a suggestion: “I don’t want anyone running around here. Otherwise, there will be consequence. Have I made myself clear… Uh…” she stopped for a moment, thinking, before tilting her head to the side: “Wait, what is your name? I don’t think I asked you before, did I?”

Oh. Oh crap. He obviously couldn’t give her his old name, this was the worst possible thing to do- but what other name could he use? Obviously, if he took too much time to decide, she would know… And yet, no words could leave his mouth.

Snatcher was simply paralyzed. At no time he had expected her to ask about his name- but how could he not think of anything like this?

-“Well?” she urged him, getting suspicious. Oh no, oh no, he had to find something, quick…!

-“Lu...” he tried, hoping he’d find a name close to his old one, something that would easily evoke close forms of the name “Lukas”, he lacked too much time to think more. But nothing was coming in his mind: “Lu…!”

The Queen frowned, confused.

-“Lulu?” she repeated, as a confirmation she had understood. Instantly, a wave of relief washed over him, though he did his best to hide it as much as he could.

-“Y-yes,” he nodded weakly, with a trembling smile: “That’s… That’s my name, yes,” he lied, trying so hard to keep his “happy mask” on. As a response, Vanessa stared at him, as if she were watching for any sign of lie in his words, in his expression. Snatcher hands were becoming clammy from how dreadful this whole situation was, his heart was beating loud and fast in his chest, he was doing his best to keep his breathing under control, no matter how difficult this was… And, finally…!

-“This is such a cute name!” exclaimed Vanessa with glee, clasping her hands once more: “Well, Lulu. I hope I can trust you, right?” Another warning, one that was even more obvious than the last one. The former ghost forced himself to smile again, despite how insincere it must have looked- but perhaps Vanessa was too unstable to see it, or so he hoped.

-“Of… Of course!” he lied again, with a nod: “I’ll just… Sleep and wait for you to come back,” he assured, hoping this would suffice. And fortunately…

-“Perfect!” her face lightened up, yet Snatcher couldn’t tell if she was fully convinced. In any case, she grabbed the door handle and waved at him affectionately, like a mother would do to her child. This was… Extremely upsetting, given the circumstances. Still, the child merely forced another smile… And let out a huge sigh of relief as the Queen finally left the room.

Gods, this had been much, much more terrorizing than anything he could have potentially imagined.

Doing everything he could to remain silent, the young Prince listened closely to her steps slowly getting away, and waited a few more minutes, just to be sure. When he was sure she was definitely far away from this room, Snatcher tried to straighten up, only to be cut short by the acute pain on his ankle. Oh yeah.

There was this problem too.

The former ghost winced and frowned. What could he do for that? He couldn’t possibly escape with such an injury… Not only would it hurt, but he was pretty sure he wouldn’t be able to move discreetly. With Vanessa being in the room under this one… Oh, yes, she would definitely hear him. Then what? It wasn’t like he could miraculously heal that ankle-

However, his body froze as a stroke of genius burst in his mind. Maybe, just, maybe this could work… Frowning and wincing in advance, not really sure if this would succeed… Snatcher moved his hands to his broken ankle and closed his eyes, focusing.

He had learnt healing magic in his past life… Now, it was just a matter of hoping this small and frail body would allow him to use it. And so, the former ghost tried to find the small spark of magic he still had under this form. Breathing in and out, it was like trying to find something that was now hidden in the depth of his mind, something that felt so familiar and yet so foreign.

“Come on…” he urged himself, feeling himself getting closer and closer to that feeling he was trying so hard to find. Healing magic wasn’t as easy as fire one for him, one of the main reasons being that his mother’s family had been gifted with the power of fire. Summoning flames was thus easier for him- healing magic, though? This was a complete new story. While fire had been easy to learn at the time, him being a natural at it, the other types of magic had to be learnt the traditional way, with teachers, a lot of reading and study times, and getting familiarized with the elements you were learning.

Of course, in his situation, Snatcher couldn’t really use any of those things. All he could do was trying to focus… And soon enough, he began to feel tingles at the tips of his fingers. Yes, this is what he had been looking for! A small smile of victory spread on his lips, but he did his best to remain focused. In the meantime, the child could feel his injured ankle becoming number and number to the pain, and maybe… Bones shifting around a bit, though it was more uncomfortable than actually painful. This was working, this was working, he knew it, he knew he could-!

And suddenly, Snatcher felt like he lost all grasp on his magic. Shocked, the former shade opened his eyes, the tingling sensation in his fingertips quickly disappearing as if it had never been there at all. Why? Confusion spread onto his features and he looked at his hands, almost hoping he’d see what went wrong. But everything seemed normal.

And in fact, it was, thinking about it. The fact that he had been able to summon healing magic when he was in a body inexperienced with it… Was already quite an achievement, and it made sense it wouldn’t last, that this would be too unstable for that.

The former ghost tentatively moved his ankle, already wincing in advance in fear of how much it would hurt- but it wasn’t as painful as he had first thought. He slowly and carefully palpated his skin, trying to feel what had changed. Sure, touching it hurt, however… However, he was almost sure that his bones weren’t broken anymore.

He had managed to heal the biggest part of his injury. A long sigh of relief left his lips: things were… Going really well. But Snatcher was far from being over with this, oh, very, very far. He still had to escape this cursed place.

As silently as he could, Snatcher straightened up and hopped over the guardrail of the crib. His feet met the floor with a muffled sound, which was enough to scare him: had Vanessa heard anything? The sudden pressure on his ankle made his face tensed greatly though he managed to contain the urge to whine in pain.

This body was definitely one of a child… But to the former shade, he was sure that his mind had been altered to a degree, and this was not something he liked. He had to find the kids and Moonjumper, making sure they were alive, that he had managed to save them… And have the brats returning him to his adult for- no, his spirit form. Yes, that was what he wanted, and for a moment, he felt confused as to why this hadn’t been the first thing popping in his mind.

What was happening to him…?

The child forced his mind to focus back on reality: this wasn’t the time for questions. Who knew how much time he had before Vanessa decided to check up on him? If he had to try something, without getting caught, this was literally now or never. Waiting was dangerous, especially if his friends needed him- it was really cold outside, freezing even… Would he even get there on time? He was pretty far away, especially on foot…

“No,” he tried to reassure himself: “I can do this, I can… I will do this.”

Determination was now fueling inside of him, almost making him forget the pain in his ankle and how low the temperatures were in the manor. He himself was also on a time limit: his fragile body would become less efficient the colder it would get- Snatcher couldn’t lose any more time.

Slowly, silently, the child moved to the door and slightly opened it. Good, it hadn’t been locked, and he couldn’t hear anything coming closer, whether it was a voice or steps. Another sigh of relief left his lips, and after hesitating a bit… The young Prince took a deep breath and moved forward, entering the hallway with a mix of apprehension, fear, and resolve.

He was going to leave this manor and find his friends again.

This was a promise.

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ONLY TWO CHAPTERS LEFT

I hope you liked this chapter, I can't wait to show you the ending of this fanfiction ! Thank you so much for following me this far, and I hope you'll be there for my next fanfic too ! (I already have an idea of the story, so now it's a matter of making it better and actually writing it).

See you next Sunday !

=> Chapter 24

[stepgazz]

//warmest days//lee jeno//

you love the sun; it soaks you with life. you love the light; its purity drowns you in hope. but they’ve never held you as lovingly as the cold, in the dark.

angst, fluff

(kind of) enemies to lovers

5.8k words

Your hand dangled off the open window, the swift summer breeze licking around your fingers. The sun veiled your face like a golden mantle, shimmering off of your earrings as they swayed, clicking melodically. The car rumbled down the road, wafts of a heavy, floral scent filling your lungs. The sky itself turned into a mirror under the simmering heat, and you looked up into it with a deep gratefulness in your heart. You hadn’t felt this warm with happiness in a long time.

Jaemin firmly held the stirring wheel with his left hand, rambling sweetly about how excited he was about the trip. His girlfriend was seated next to him, in the front, holding his right hand in hers while smiling at his ardent babbling with adoration in her eyes. Every time he looked over to her, Jaemin’s face would scrunch up with even more excitement.

Watching them, your heart would tremble with joy: for their love, for the amazing days ahead, for the beauty in all of these good feelings. You smiled widely at how full your chest felt, so heavy with life.

You could imagine what was happening in the other car, where the other boys were stuffed: Jisung and Chenle screaming the entire time as Mark drove and Donghyuck teased him endlessly. You could almost hear the vehicle vibrating with their laughter. The thought of Renjun fleeing from the chaos and deciding to move to your car, just so he could sleep for a bit, made you chuckle to yourself. The poor boy had dozed off on your shoulder, his face finally relaxed after continuously cringing at the soap opera happening in the front seats. You looked down at him affectionately, slowly coming to the conclusion that there was nowhere you’d rather be than right there, right then.

And as you peeled your eyes away from Renjun, they met Jeno’s.

Jeno wasn’t warm. He’d never felt warm to you. Jeno was scarily stoic and intimidating, you’d never seen any other face of his. The guys always claimed he was nothing but a gentle giant, but to you, he was rough and distant. Terribly cold.

Meeting his gaze was usually a bad sign. He had that power: scolding with his eyes only, shooting icy, half-a-second long warnings that made your veins feel frozen. That’s all he ever did, though; warn. His gestures were defensive, cautionary; that shield of ice was never low. That resent in his guard seemed to state his feelings towards you clearly and you never stepped past this line he was obviously drawing.

So, as you met Jeno’s eyes, you were taken aback. He seemed to have been looking for a bit, before scoffing at the contact in your stares and returning to his cold corner, his temple lifelessly pressed to the window. You remained locked to his image, following the sharp angle of his clenched jawline up the contour of his profile. Long, dense eyelashes casted a dramatic shadow over his eyes, seeming to repel the pleasant touch of the sun. Tension squirmed beneath his skin and you watched it carefully, with dangerous interest. When he wasn’t menacing, Jeno looked noble and handsome. Distant and cold in a beautiful way, like marble statues and huge, stone castles.

You turned to your own window, embalmed in the rich light, and closed your eyes to the loving exchange in the front seats. The breeze brushed your skin ever so lightly, summer staining your face with peppered, sunny kisses.

***

When you finally stopped at a gas station, the soft atmosphere turned chaotic almost instantly. Chenle jumped out of the car with a screech, running to the bathroom as Jisung calmly followed. Mark was rubbing his eyes, practically begging Haechan to drive instead. He gave in, not failing to mention that he was doing so for his own safety, not for “you three dumbasses”. Jaemin stretched with a content sigh, opening the door for his girlfriend, who thanked him for driving carefully with a peck. Despite the disgusted groan from Renjun (who was barely awake yet still outraged by them), you found it really sweet. And apparently, so did Jeno.

He sat with his arms crossed above his chest, a faint smile fluttering on his lips as he watched the pair. While he didn’t seem like the type to show tenderness, you’d heard Jaemin often call him a softie. So, as much as you kept your distance, the idea of seeing that side of Jeno often kept you awake.

“Awww, is Nono jealous?” Haechan slurred, puckering his lips at the boy.

Jeno’s smile faded instantly as he pretended to throw a fist in Donghyuck’s direction, who flinched apologetically. A slight chuckle left your lips before you realized, which made you instantly turn to Jeno. To your surprise, he resumed to a breathy laugh, curiously detached. Its calmness sparked something in your chest.

Chenle and Jisung returned from the bathroom beaming with energy, which made Mark whine in exhaustion. Everyone laughed at the black-haired boy as he pressed his palms against his face, defeated. With despair, he pleaded:

“Renjun please switch places with me.”

“No way, never. I slept like a baby the whole time; I’m not going back into that hellhole. I barely got out!” He pointed at the empty car, which looked just as tired as the driver. “Sleep there with your crazy kids.”

Chenle looked over, deeply offended, but Renjun didn’t bother to notice. “Plus, (Name) is a great pillow.”

You smiled towards Renjun when you felt him pat your shoulders proudly.

“Poor (Name) couldn’t move an inch because of you.”

The sound of Jeno’s voice rung in your ears when you heard your name. You turned to look at his face, which was washed in the orange glow of the sunset, and you saw a sly smile curve his lips. His black hair fell in velvety waves over his forehead, standing up in places where he had run his fingers. His eyebrows were raised in Renjun’s direction, who stammered under his gaze.

“Oh, um…you couldn’t?” his voice gave away genuine remorse, which made you puff with a giggle.

“It’s fine, you were okay!!” you reassured him by rubbing his arm as the others laughed.

“You almost drooled on her shoulder!” Jeno pointed at you, meeting your eyes while his were coiled into demilunes. You couldn’t remember the last time he smiled in your direction, let alone when you made eye contact.

Renjun apologized again, earning even more laughter through his embarrassed rambles. He eventually concluded that it was better to switch places, which made Mark almost yell with relief. The group kept talking in the gas station parking lot as vehicles came and went, bumbling by like bees. The sun was setting rapidly and the sky was growing more and more bruised with darkness, which soon made the boys decide to “set sail once more”.

But before you could all settle back into the cars, Mark stopped and called out for Renjun, who groaned and spat a “WHAT” at him.

“What if we let Donghyuck sleep with those two and we share a room?”

And to that, Renjun’s face lit up while Haechan’s instantly darkened.

“Those three won’t sleep anyways, it’s perfect!!” Renjun exclaimed with glee.

Havoc ensued, nonetheless. You watched the boys point fingers at each other alongside Jaemin and his girlfriend. Behind you was Jeno, with his elbows resting on top of the car and his chin digging into the meat of his forearms, the same gentle smile hovering on his mouth. Their voices, growing more and more frustrated, filled the haunting silence of the gas station parking lot, reminding you once more of how vividly alive you were feeling, deep inside your ribcage.

“Okay, guys, let’s just decide the rooms, okay?” Jaemin began, making reassuring gestures with his hands towards Renjun and Haechan, who were at each other’s neck already.

“Mark is right. Him and Renjun share a room, because they’re both tired and Mark needs to rest in order to drive.”

The guys whose names were said howled at each other in content.

“Chenle, Jisung and Haechan share a room. I think it’s fair for all of us.” Jaemin eyed the three boys, the youngest ones cheering around the eldest, who was reduced to sulking silently.

“Haneul and I have a room for ourselves. Isn’t that right?” He smiled at the girl, who nodded with a loving expression.

And before he could say it, it dawned upon you.

“And Jeno and (Name) share a room, and that’s it. Now, everyone to the cars.”

Your heart dropped into your stomach with sickening speed. The look on Jeno’s face showed the feeling was mutual.

“We were supposed to share a room!” Jeno boomed towards Jaemin, who signaled him to bring the volume down. “Haneul and (Name) were supposed to share a room!”

“Now, now, you know I can’t go with my girlfriend somewhere and not sleep in the same room as her—”

“THEY’RE DOUBLE BEDS!”

You thought your heart was in your stomach before, but now it fell to your feet. You weren’t only sharing a room, but the bed also. Something felt awfully chilling on your back.

Jeno barged into the car and shut the door with a thud, holding his forehead into one of his palms. You looked up at Jaemin; he sighed with annoyance before opening the door for Haneul, who hopped in elegantly. Mark stared at you, probably thinking you would get murdered that night. He took his own seat, separating you and the frowning boy. You got in as well, gulping at how cold you were feeling, all of the sudden.

You stared out the closed window the remaining length of the ride.

***

The motel didn’t look as ragged as you had initially thought it would: the building was tall with yellow, glowing windows like a bunch of friendly eyes. The dry flower beds in front of it only gave it some more charm, their dull beige highly contrasting the cozy maroon of the bricks. Other various plants sprouted through the cracked pavement, leading up to the main entrance, which seemed to welcome your anarchic group. You liked the earthy smell of its yard as it replaced the scent of the arid, concrete road.

As pleasant as its hearty quiet was, you didn’t get to enjoy it for long: the guys poured of the cars with bursting bags and started rambling once more about the rooms. You had your own backpack slung over your shoulder, holding the strap tightly as the boys zoomed past you and towards the check-in desk.

Jaemin handed you the key to your room with a reassuring smile. You examined the silver object, turning it over in your palms as you began going up the stairs: this little thing would lock you and Jeno in the same room overnight, and the thought made you squeeze it in your fist, as if it would crumble.

Suddenly, someone tugged at your rucksack. Your head snapped to look behind you, meeting Jeno’s glare as he wordlessly slipped the strap off your shoulder and tossed the object on his back.

“I got it—”

“What’s our room?” he cut you off.

Jeno held the eye contact stubbornly, like he was trying to make you stammer. The word “our” caused your hand to clutch the key even harder.

“25. 3rd floor.”

“See you there.”

And he sped up the staircase, disappearing past the corner of the next flight. You stood on the steps, baffled, as the rest of the group diffused around the mute motel.

***

You rubbed your eyes with the pads of your palms: they were burning with fatigue. Your entire body felt tacky with sweat as you sat on the single chair in the entire room. It wasn’t bad for a motel; you could manage a single night as long as you had a power outlet and a bed.

“Oh, the bed.” The thought came back to you unexpectedly. You were stressing a bit too much over that.

Your slight panic was disrupted by the bathroom door swinging open, Jeno walking out of the shower followed by a cloud of steam which tumbled into your small, already suffocating room.

“Okay, this is how we’re going to do this.”

You looked up and gasped a bit. Jeno stood before you, drying his damp hair with a towel. A black pair of shorts rode low on his hips while his upper body was fully exposed: waterdrops trailed down his clavicles, leaving glossy traces on the skin as they trickled further. His chest tightened with every breath between his ribs, which defined fine lines where they intersected with muscle. He truly resembled one of those beautiful sculptures; the ones that made you wonder what gorgeous creature could have instigated its creation.

But those pieces of art are as cold as their marble makes them. That’s their only flaw: they’re frozen through the meat of their own self, cursed to never feel warmth again. Therefore, Jeno fit the description well.

“You stay on your side of the bed and I stay on mine. It’s big enough for us to sleep away from each other.”

You couldn’t pretend his words weren’t hurtful. As much as you’d love to, you couldn’t hate Jeno back. He never gave you a reason to. On the contrary, when he wasn’t talking to you or minding your presence too much, Jeno was pretty sweet. Not only was he really funny (which was quite the unpopular opinion in your group) and kind, he was a genuinely pleasant person. He had a respectable, trust-worthy ambiance. Jeno felt intense in a lot of ways.

You liked Jeno more than you were willing to admit. But he never liked you back.

“Or…I could sleep on the floor?”

His change in tone made you realize how your face had dropped at his previous instructions. You shook your head, clearing your thoughts, then answered:

“No way. We’ll fit alright.”

Jeno met your eyes and nodded. There was thankfulness in his look.

“I’ll go see what the rest are up to while you shower, then we can go to sleep.”

You watched the black-haired boy pull a white, transparent t-shirt over his head and slip his trusty pair of glasses on his nose. On his arms popped veins while he ruffled his hair, settling the messy, moist locks into a combed-back quiff.

Something almost made you stand up and stop him from leaving. Something almost made you tell him he looked handsome like this, disheveled and relaxed. Something almost made you ask him to stay.

“Lock the door behind you.”

And he did as he walked away.

You fell asleep before he returned, in a bed half cold.

***

That coldness haunted your dreams.

You woke up to a completely dark room, with your lungs rapidly emptying of air then desperately sucking it back in. Chilling sweat pooled in beads on the back of your head.

You pushed your fists against your forehead, calming yourself down. You’d dreamt of something bad, something you couldn’t quite remember after opening your eyes. With each passing second, the nightmare floated further away, allowing reality to settle back inside your head.

The room was too big, too frigid for you to feel any safer. You missed the sun, drenching you in its spell of happiness so generously. You missed the breeze, that breath of summer carrying your exhaled moments to another soul. You wanted to open the window and wait for dawn right there, with your mouth agape and your skin screaming for heat.

But you sat between those white, ageless sheets and gasped like a dying animal in the winter. The air was still and empty, haunted by your nightmares, and the nightmares of other travelers before you. In the dark, everything seemed dead for long.

“You okay back there?”

Jeno’s voice was raspy and deep, but it sounded comforting in your frenzy.

“I had a nightmare.”

Your skin crawled at the word.

Behind you, there was silence, then a shift. The bed creaked under the moving weight as Jeno turned to face your back with a groan. You could feel him exhale deeply into the back of your head before lifting his arm.

His fingertips grazed against the throbbing skin of your temple, tracing down your cheek, then the side of your neck, shoulder and arm before lifting his hand and fluttering his fingers, as if he was shaking off water drops. He kept drawing this outline with an unexpected gentleness, growing more confident each time.

“My sister used to do this to me when I had nightmares. She’d tell me she was taking the bad thought from my head and guiding it away.”

Your body was limp under the contact. The spots he was touching felt excessively sensitive, yet every time his fingers left your skin, it ached for his feeling.

“It always worked.”

It really was working. In fact, there weren’t any thoughts left in your head as he traced your sides time after time. Air seemed to be enough once again, the dark wasn’t as dense anymore. And you wondered how you felt hot all of the sudden, when his cold hands were caressing you.

Was it really Jeno, behind you? Was his presence this human? Was his skin truly soft and his scent this pleasant? Nothing had ever felt this exhilarating with him. There was nothing but ice in his attitude when it came to you, so this new stance was bewildering. He had been hiding this tenderness from you and he would hide it again the next day, like a wound he was embarrassed about, but had to tend at night. Your heart couldn’t take the thought of Jeno being this kind to you once, then never again.

Your hand acted on its own, grabbing his while it traced the side of your arm. The tendons tensed his palm beneath yours, almost making him pull away. But he kept it on you, even flattening it on the skin.

“Why do you hate me?”

The words felt bitter on your tongue as you spat them. Jeno sighed behind you, a waft of warm air brushing against your neck.

“I don’t hate you. Go to sleep.”

He tried pulling away again, in order to turn his back to you, but you pressed down on his hand.

“Don’t lie.”

“Go to sleep, (Name).”

“Please, Jeno.”

His fingers dug into your meat at the sound of his name. You turned to lay on your back, the contour of his body winding next to you. You stared up at the celling, refusing to look at him. Still, you could feel his stare in your temple, burning holes into your head.

“I don’t hate you and I mean it.”

“Then why are you like this to me? What did I ever do to you?”

You weren’t even angry. Deeply frustrated maybe. There was an entire side of this man that you’d never get to see for some reason and it killed you to know that.

You liked Jeno too much to ignore him.

“I couldn’t hate you even if I wanted to.” He mumbled into your ear. You could tell he regretted saying it right away.

You were thinking the same thing.

“You know how we practically had to beg the company to let us go on this trip, because of our…image?”

Jeno started tracing from your shoulder down to your wrist with his fingers, breathing into your ear after each word like it hurt him to say them.

“You know how Haneul can barely walk down the street, now that people know about her and Jaemin?”

You nodded, still not knowing where he was going.

“You know how we decided to sleep in the middle of nowhere, in this motel, just so we wouldn’t run into anyone who knows us?”

He paused. The silence sprawled out over your chest like a dead, poor thing. His breathing sounded faster than normal, but your ears were ringing too badly for you to tell.

“I didn’t decide to hate you.”

Jeno propped himself up on his elbow, enough so he could look down at your face. Behind him, the window glowed ghastly, like a mouth full of smoke. The dirty light coming from the distant, white street lights lined Jeno’s imposing silhouette with silver.

“But I’ll hate you if I have to, because I can’t afford to hurt you with my real feelings.”

Your heart felt heavy for a reason you couldn’t name. His stare fell upon you like an invisible weight and you shuddered under it. His voice was twisted with an ambiguous emotion, ignited by something that seemed to deeply trouble him.

“Then what do you really feel?”

You turned your head towards his. As your eyes grew used to the darkness, shapes started gaining contour. So did his face as you could make out the bold line of his eyebrows, angling downwards to define his nose. Truthfully though, you didn’t need light to make out his face: time after time of carefully analyzing his expressions resulted in his perfect portrait getting inked into your mind. From the pretty mole near his right eye to the deep cupid bow dictating the form of his lips, you could trace them virtually, even in pitch black darkness.

So, you could imagine the blank look on his face, contrasted by a grave glare you could almost feel picking you apart.

Jeno sighed, almost pained.

“What I’m trying to say is—”

“What do you feel?”

You looked where you knew his eyes were. In the soft shadow draped over his face, you could see the sparkle in his gaze, holding yours.

“Those people will hurt you and I won’t be able to protect you. They’ll say bad things about you.”

“Jeno.”

“I can’t let them hurt you. I love you so much that I need to hate you.”

Time froze.

Maybe because all of the cold he’s ever shown you was evaporating with each word. Maybe it was all spreading in the air, icing over everything in the room, including the dripping seconds. His stare was burning, so were his words. So were his fingers, as they held your limp palm.

“Love is a strong word.” Your whisper came out shaky, as if your body was succumbing to the biting cold of winter.

“I know what I said.”

Jeno’s palm felt up to your cheek with gentleness, leaving explosions of tingles on its way. He cupped your face and held it like he had finally found something he’d sorely missed.

“I tried so hard to hate you.” You hiccupped the words, but there were no tears on your face. “I turned myself inside out trying to hate you, because you were so cold. You were so distant and-and indifferent. You were so far away but I couldn’t hate you no matter how hard I tried!”

The boy listened wordlessly, rubbing circles into your cheek to assure you he was still there, with you. You emptied your lungs of air, so tired of the tension they had been enduring while you spoke.

“I couldn’t hate you back. I couldn’t.”

Then there was a pause, as long as a thought.

“I’m so scared of what could happen to you if I showed you the truth.” Jeno talked so lowly, you almost thought a ghost had spoken from within the walls. You placed your own hand over his, holding it tight.

“Please don’t push me away again.”

And he didn’t.

Instead, he brought you closer, flattening his lips onto yours. Your mouths molded perfectly, within a second, like they knew how. His heat struck your body like lightning, trapping you under his clutch. As you kissed him, the back of your eyes stung with tears; of relief, you figured, when you realized that beautiful statue you admired with guilt had come to life before you, drenching you in a warmth you’d never felt before.

Jeno had been lying to you, trying to keep you safe. In the process, you fell for him anyways, which almost made you laugh into the kiss. But only hours before, it broke your heart to even look him in the eyes. Deep down, you knew you would’ve done the same if you were in his place.

The black-haired boy pressed his forehead to yours, tearing his lips away with a slick sound. His fingers grazed the side of your neck, then slipped over the edge of your shoulder to rest on your arm. Hot exhales soaked into your skin and you couldn’t bring yourself to rip away from his presence.

“I don’t want my life to ruin yours.”

You listened to his whispering with worry, as it sounded so broken with emotion. His tenderness was making you melt into his hold, but his words were curdling your blood.

“I don’t want you to get hurt.”

“Then I’ll be your little secret.”

You supported his face between your hands, your fingertips accommodating to the soothing sensation of his skin.

“And I’ll love you in secret, until we figure out a way. It’ll be the two of us. I’ll be your secret.”

Jeno chuckled quietly, you barely heard it. But you could tell there was a smile on his lips: he was relieved, too.

“Just promise me I’ll wake up tomorrow and you’ll still love me.”

All he could do was connect your lips again.

His head moved against yours, digging further into the kiss with a ravaging hunger as the tip of his nose poked your cheek. Your hands curled into the black, messy locks behind his ears while your mouth swallowed his heavy breathing like you were suffocating. As he propped himself on top of you, you gasped at the shift in weight, allowing him to slip his tongue in and meet yours.

The sounds of a languid, sloppy kiss filled the still-frozen air. He gulped down the mix of your saliva, sucking the exhales out of your throat. Jeno’s taste stained every corner of your mouth: the more you felt it, the sweeter it got. That intensity he radiated poured out of him endlessly, through his every gesture. It spilled over the edges of his being and soaked yours, overpowering your senses.

The flame of the moment dimmed slowly as your eyes grew heavier with slumber. You guessed so were Jeno’s as he enveloped you in his arms and fell on his side, his chest flushed to yours in a scorching touch. He held you so tightly you wondered if he could feel your heart squirm inside your ribcage.

Jeno unstuck his mouth from yours, breathing heavily into your hair. Your forehead found its place between his collarbones, separated from his skin only by that thin, white t-shirt that looked so good on him. You nestled into the warmth of his torso, aching to get as close as possible to the man you uncovered that night.

That Jeno that had been hidden away from you with an intention purer than imagined.

“You’re so warm.” You murmured into his sternum.

His laugh blew air onto the top of your head, followed by a heartfelt kiss.

You fell asleep with his lips pressed to your hair.

***

You felt around blindly with your hand, flattening the cool wrinkles of the sheets next to you in your search for Jeno’s heat. Your eyes fluttered open with panic when you couldn’t find any trace of him.

But you looked in front of you through squinted eyelids and found him sitting up next to you. The window behind him shone with blinding sunlight, outlining his frame like an orange aura, seemingly made of newfound affection. The sun had finally rose to save you from the dark, but you’d found shelter in Jeno nonetheless.

You blinked and groaned at the rays attacking your poor, sleepy eyes. You settled with your hands sprawled above your head, still admiring the boy which was now smiling at you.

Jeno sat cross-legged next to you, supporting his weight on his hands, behind him. You trailed with your gaze up his arms, watching the veins snaking up beneath skin and guiding you to his wide shoulders that stretched imposingly. His Adam’s apple bobbed with a muffled chuckle as he noticed you intensely concentrating on him. As you reached his face, a loving smile had formed on your lips as well.

“This t-shirt looks really good on you.” You managed in a drowsy voice. His laugh made your cheeks flush every time.

“Good morning to you too.”

You stretched again, your whole body shaking at the release of tension. Jeno inched closer to push some stray strands out of your face then kept his fingers tangled in your hair, petting it with adoring delicacy.

“Were you awake for long?”

“Maybe 10 minutes. I just like looking at you.” He sounded genuine, yet amused.

You covered your face with your hands, slowly realizing how messy you probably looked: you could tell your eyes were swollen and your cheeks puffy just by touching them. The purple crescents beneath your eyes were definitely obvious, too. You croaked out a slurred “shut up”, scrunching your nose at the sound of your own voice.

He laughed again, heartily. All you could think of was how much you loved hearing it.

“Yesterday we were in the car and you were sticking your hand out the window like a little kid.”

“What about it?” you teased.

“Your face was glowing in the sun and your earrings were clattering and you were smiling so widely and…” he exhaled heavily, in a daze, “…you were really pretty.”

You listened, speechless. Remembering how you accidentally met his eyes almost gave you goosebumps. Then, you recalled admiring his face in the harsh, natural light with a heavy heart, as if you weren’t allowed to, while Renjun sat between the two of you, deep in slumber. Was the thought of you what had made him clench his jaw?

Jeno plopped besides you, snickering at his head bouncing on the pillow. You couldn’t stop smiling as you placed your palm on his cheek, curving it around his mandible, feeling his pointy chin and velvety lips.

Touching his face like this, feeling his features beneath your fingertips so vividly for the first time was making your vision blurry with happiness. With his shield shed, Jeno felt           familiar and safe.  

You kissed him lightly, just to make sure he was real. His lips were soft and welcoming, savoring the caress of your mouth against his. Before you could pull away, he moved to trickle more loving pecks down your chin and neck, sucking pale, violet blooms into your collarbones and shoulders. His eyes connected the moles stamped onto your skin up to your face, meeting your stare before diving into another kiss. You’d drown in his love happily, you thought, as you looped your arms around his neck.

You whispered against his mouth, stroking his cheek with the knuckles of your fingers:

“You’re the most beautiful person I know.”

***

You sat on the side of the bed and watched him pull a clean, black t-shirt over his head. The muscles on his back tensed, tightening against his shoulder blades and curving into the dip of his spine. His hair was fluffy, bouncing at every move. Jeno ruffled the locks into a casual look, then slipped his glasses onto the tip of his nose, pushing them up using his middle finger. You’d told him he looked cute with them, so he decided to replace his contacts with the traditional alternative, just for you.

You got up and straightened out your clothes with your palms: a baby blue dress, as pale as the simmering sky, flowing down your body and stopping just above your knees. Its lack of sleeves exposed your collarbones and the fading bite marks on them, but Jeno had been careful enough to make them as light as possible. The urgency with which he made them showed he wasn’t fully satisfied, though.

He walked over to you and grabbed your waist, his fingers molding to your shape with yearning.

“How do we do this?”

Jeno’s eyes looked for yours with attentiveness, waiting for the relieving sound of your voice.

“If you’re not comfortable with the guys knowing yet, it’s alright. I trust you.”

“But what if I’ll want to hold your hand?”

You’d never seen Jeno pouting before, but the sight was memorable to say the least. You giggled and held onto his shoulders, following the movements of his lips curling into words with your gaze.

“You can do whatever you feel comfortable doing, Jeno. I’m not scared of anything when I’m with you.”

And you meant it. The dark and the cold, hatred and silence: Jeno had freed you of all of those, even though just days before he seemed to be built out of them. Jeno showed you the beauty in them, despite how heavy they made your heart. They no longer scared you, somebody had taught you there can be love behind all of them.

“I trust you.”

***

You looked in the mirror into the backseat, watching Jaemin and Haneul cuddle into each other subconsciously as they slept. Both of them looked tired that morning: after some noise complaints from Mark and Renjun, you figured why. The latter boy was also in the back seat, squeezed into the corner and fast asleep with a repulsed expression frozen onto his face as Jaemin leaned onto him. His girlfriend was cozily curled onto his chest.

Jeno was driving. An image came into your mind, watching his left hand tighten around the wheel. The memory of the other couple cooing sweet nothings at each other in the front seats caused a mindless chuckle to slip from your lips. You felt Jeno turn to look at you, surprised by your sudden laugh, but you stared out the open window as the aromatic breeze whipped wildly inside your hair. The sun cupped your face with reassuring warmth; it reminded you of the boy besides you.

But you were the one to be surprised when you felt his right hand clasp yours, bringing it up to his mouth to press a lingering kiss to it. His eyes were focused on the road before him, but his smile showed his heart was with you. You entangled your fingers with his instinctively, Jeno placing your conjoined hands on your thigh. You guessed he had been thinking of the same thing as he looked into the back seat through the mirror and chuckled to himself.

But you could only stare at the gesture of love, resting in your lap. After all, holding your hand was the only thing he could worry about as he spoke to you that morning.

You were both taken aback when a husky voice, riddled with disgust, spoke from right behind you.

“Not you two as well!” Renjun whined, discouraged.  

***

[yaneyanedaze]

My Special Girl Pt: 1

(Yandere!Various x Beta!Chubby!Reader)

Whoo boy, it’s my first time taking a step into the realm of Omegaverse, but i hope you guys like it, I am working on My Android Lover and Our Goddess (Which is the Royal Pillarmen story!) those should be coming soon as well! I’m happy to write for you guys and I hope you all are having a wonderful day!

With that! On with the story!

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F/n is a college student with a little problem, She’s a beta that apparently give off the scent of an Omega. So when she finally goes out one day, her life gets turned upside down as multiple Alpha’s try to claim her as theirs.

Will she tell them the truth? or let them find out on their own?

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“Come on f/n, you never go out with me anymore? Are you alright?” My friend, Crys (Pronounced Chris) asked. I shook my head, sighing heavily, already knowing where this conversation was going. I stood up from the table and headed to leave, not wanting to be apart of this. “Hey wait up! F/n!” She whined, following after me, “Is this because of-“ “Do not. Mention. His. Name.” I practically growled, anger dripping from each word that left my lips. I could see the sadness in her eyes as she looked down at the ground, kicking dirt around. 

“Come on, that was in the past. We’re in college now!” I rolled my eyes and continued walking on, more annoyed than ever now. “Look, I’ll think about it, Now go please..” I said, as I was now standing in front of my apartment. Her look of somberness quickly turned to glee as she practically bounced with joy. “Yay! You won’t regret it f/n!” “I haven’t agreed yet- annnd she’s gone.”

I watched as she happily skipped away, I shake my head, a ghost of a smile appearing on my face. Walking inside, I was greeted to the cold, crisp air, I could feel the goosebumps already on my skin from the nice, relaxing feeling. My name is F/n L/n, I am a plus size girl in her 3rd year in college, majoring in fine arts, I have two sisters who live with my parents still back in (Hometown). My sisters are both Omegas, as well as my mother, and of course my father is an Alpha, but me?

 I got unlucky and ended up being a Beta and because of this they basically shunned me, even though I was the baby of the family. They didn’t want anyone to know that I was apart of their family. Then again, she didn’t like me anyways because i was a bit on the plump side, I had a chest, curves and a butt, so i guess i had everything that she wanted. She used to call me names, pick on me because of my weight and even my sisters joined in on it, while my dad just sat and watched. So I eventually ended up moving away to go and live with my Grandmother. She was a beta as well, so I don’t understand why my Mom hated me so much when her mother was the very thing I am. My Grandma loved me and cared about me, she bought me anything i’d like, make sure i was  happy and never judged me . Soon she knew I was going to be heading off soon so she helped me get my own little apartment and car for school. I still visit her when ever i can.

My friend Crys was also an Omega, I don’t even know why she bothered because she was kind of considered the top tier of the school. But she’s been by my side since elementary school (minus..that incident.) and has been a huge sweetheart. 

But again, it sucked.

Crys wanted me to go to a party on campus, but I usually don’t do well at parties, cause you know anxiety is a thing, and why go be social when you have Netflix. I groaned loudly “Why musty I have such a soft spot for that girl!!” I yelled out as I dragged myself to my room to get ready when I get a call from my best friend, Reimi. She was a sweet girl with bubblegum pink hair and big redish/pink eyes, She’s another friend that I’ve known for years, and I’m a lot closer to her than I am with Crys.

“N/n! I heard you were going to the party! Someone must’ve black mailed you into going” She jokingly, I rolled my eyes and chuckled slightly as I roamed through my closet looking for something to put on. “Oh shush! Crys persuaded me to go with her puppy dog eyes.” I explained getting a soft ‘Oh’ from her. “Well I was just calling to see, I’m not going do to exams, I gotta crunch that study time” “I understand, I just wish I would stay home but I’ve already got an outfit out and Crys is expecting me.” I say pulling out a cute pink dress. It was a bodycon dress with slits on the sides and a sweetheart neckline, i smiled and shrugged, tossing over on the bed so I could wear it. It was a gift from my grandmother one year for my birthday. “Well, let me go so you can finish getting dressed! See Ya!” “See ya Reim” She hung up the phone and i headed over to the bathroom to freshen up and finish up.

I sighed and looked at myself in the mirror as I walked past, Even after all these years, I was still having a problem with loving myself. I guess my mom really did affect me more than i thought she was going to, I shook my head and slapped my cheeks.”Come on You’re gonna have fun tonight!” I say hyping myself up before i go in the bathroom to get ready.

                                                     (TimeSkip)

It was around 8:00pm when Crys and I pull up at the party, It was being hosted by one of the most popular boys of the school, Joseph Joestar, and of course, he was an Alpha. It’s probably the only reason Cyrs wanted to go to be honest. Speaking of the red head, she was wearing a pretty blue tube top with matching skirt, silver hoop earrings and a glittery choker. She wore heels to the party, but i know she had a change of shoes in her bag for when she get tired.

We both got out and she let out an excited squeal, “Yes! Look at us! two friends going out together, come on we’re gonna have fun just like the good old days!” She exclaimed, grabbing my hand and pulling me inside. Once we reached inside an overwhelming scent hit me straight in the face, I nearly dropped, but Crys caught me and giggled only making me nudge her as we walked in. We smiled and waved as we saw some of our classmates and some new people as well. But soon we separated as I had gotten tired of walking around already, and I usually didn’t do well in social environments. 

I wandered around the large house until i came across a room that looked to be another sitting area, so I found the corner and sat down near it. I apparently didn’t hear the footsteps coming up beside me either.

“Surprised to see you here, F/n, Didn’t think you’d come to parties.” 

I jumped slightly in my spot, turned and nearly fainted.

Jotaro Kujo was leaning against the wall behind me. He was one of my classmates, and he really didn’t come to class much, but when he did, you knew. Because majority of the girls would be swooning over him while the poor guy just wanted to rest and do his work. “Ah, I came with a friend, I got a bit tired, So I just came here to rest a bit,” He hummed in agreement as he leaned there. “Joseph made me come, said i needed to get out more, I would’ve been fine with chilling at home reading my marine biology books.” he said letting out a soft chuckle, followed by a ghost of a smile.

I felt like i was living some girls dream, To be sitting here chatting casually here with Jotaro would make them just melt. But to me he was just a normal guy, someone who loved marine biology and all things about the ocean. He was a gentle giant, at least towards me. “Let’s go outside, Its getting too stuffy in here.” He said, grabbing my hand, leading me outside, we pushed past people, saying my excuse me’s when we bumped into people.

Once we reached outside, I looked up at the sky seeing stars in the sky, all of them twinkling brightly, all of them just as beautiful as the next. Jotaro was also looking up at the sky as well, but he looked like he was contemplating something, like he wanted to say something, but he couldn’t.

“Jotaro? Are you Okay?”

                                                   (Jotaro’s Pov)

I breathed out slowly, gripping my fist as I let out a soft growl. ‘Why can’t i just get this over with.’ I thought to myself, She was standing right beside me. This cute girl, who didn’t find me scary, who didn’t just fawn over me like I was an object. Did she even know what I was? Other would be practically drooling over me, I’ve even had some males fawn over me. I glanced over at her and saw her face in awe looking at the sky. The way the moonlight glossed over her perfectly chubby cheeks, the way that dress hugged her curves and fitted her body in all the right places. If I wasn’t able to control myself I would’ve taken her right here and now, not caring that anyone else would see. They would know she is mine, and no one would dare look at her or try to claim her.

I was so lost in my thoughts I didn’t even hear her call my name out.

“Jotaro? Are you Okay?” I snapped out of my thoughts and turned to face her fully, she was about 5′1, so compared to me she was so small, She would fit so perfectly in my arms. I mentally slapped myself and let out a sigh before speaking. “Are you dating anybody?” I asked, and it came out blunt, but i didn’t mean it to, panic started to surge up in me as I didn’t want to come off as rude to her. But she seemed to ignore the tone of my voice and answered anyways with a smile. “Uh..no, I’m not really the dating person, i’ve ever only crushed on one person.” She admitted, a small blush on her face. ‘Thats cute.’ I thought as I watched her. She would be the perfect wife, I could see her swollen and round with my children, welcoming me home from a long day at work. I was happy with the response she said so I couldn’t help but give a slight smirk and a chuckle which seemed to surprise her as I saw another plus appear on her cheeks.

That’s when it hit me, She had a sweet scent to her, one that reminded me of roses and sugar, it gave off such an innocent vibe, not compared to some of these other girls around this place. She did say she’s only liked one person, so maybe that’s why, but I couldn’t wrap my head around it,it was teasing me, she looked to cute and innocent. I shook my head and let out a low growl hoping she didn’t hear, and luckily Joseph came outside just in time to save me from myself.

“There you are! I thought you had left, didn’t know you were out here chatting up this cutie here~!”

 He said teasingly. F/n didn’t pay him no mind and neither did I. “Shut up, are you done hoeing around?” I asked, now standing in front of F/n. He smirked and laughed at my comment before throwing an arm around my shoulder. “I wouldn’t call it that, I was just looking for a girl~, but to answer your questions, no, I didn’t see anyone I like..that is..” He stepped around me and grabbed F/n’s hand.

                                                     (Pov Switch)

I jumped slightly when Joseph suddenly grabbed my hand. “You’re such a beautiful sight Baby doll~ How come i have never seen you around?~” He asked and I was about to answer until Jotaro practically growled at him. “Okay Okay jeez, i’ll back off for now~” He said, getting the hint. he scribbled something on a piece of paper and handed it to me before heading back into the house. He was gone as quickly as he came, i looked down at the paper in my hand and saw it was his phone number with hearts beside it. I rolled my eyes and giggled slightly.

“Don’t pay attention to him, thats how he always acts around girls he doesn’t know” Jotaro says before pulling down his hat and handing me his own piece of paper. I looked at it and saw it had his number on it but a date on it as well. “That day, after class, be ready we’re going out.” he said bluntly and walked back inside. I was in shock, so i didn’t immediately follow him. I had gotten two numbers in one night, both of them guys that all the girls loved. Needless to say, I didn’t know whether to be scared or excited, but i felt something.

 I just didn’t know what.

I eventually walked around to the front to find Crys waiting on me. She smiled at me and started talking as we walked to the car. “Soo~ Did you have fun~?” She asked getting over into the drivers side. I nodded slightly, a smile growing on my lips, “yea..I did..” I said as I looked out the window, thinking about Jotaro, and excited for the next few days.

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I hope you guys liked this, as i stated above this is my first time really writing something like this and i also hope that i didn’t write Jotaro and Joseph too OOC, if i did let me know and i’ll try to fix it!

[crystxlclear]

sudden desire

chapter two: coffee times ten

part three of sudden desire

prologue / one / masterlist

in which two best friends won’t admit they’re in love so decide to have a baby together instead.

pairing: marcus pike x original female character

summary: coffee, coffee and more coffee. coraline ropes marcus into babysitting duties.

word count: 4.4k

warnings: the slightest smidge of angst? boyfriend material marcus (needs his own warning because he’s soft af), mentions of divorce? mentions of pregnancy? two idiots being domestic af without realising it. honestly i’m just pulling these warnings out of my ass idk what counts anymore

author’s note: sorry if there’s any errors, i’m honestly the world’s worst proofreader (last time i went to post this, there were still passages from when this wasn’t fanfiction and marcus was an actor like cora, cause that would have made total sense!) but also i get super hypercritical so it’s best if i just don’t read and reread my work oops... anyway, enjoy!

Monday morning comes and she’s wearing the dress that he likes. It's the yellow one she wore the day they met, the reason he calls her sunshine, and she smiles as she sweeps effortlessly into the coffee shop. Coraline pushes the sunglasses she's wearing up onto her head and greets him with a hug and a small 'hello' muffled against his shoulder. 

It's only January but the sun still seeps in too brightly through the shop's thatched windows; it casts her in a halo of gold as she sits in the armchair across from him. Even despite the warmth pooling in the air, he can tell she's still cold, from the way her shoulders shrink inwards and she wraps her arms around herself. If she is cold, she doesn't let him know, just takes a moment to run her hands up her arms before wrapping them around the mug of coffee he'd ordered her. He'd told her to go see someone about it — constant chills aren't exactly normal — but she'd refused, brushing off his concern with a simple shrug of her shoulders and an insistence that she'd be fine. She'd also pointed out that it was, in fact, January and it was meant to be cold, even if it wasn't. It still hasn't stopped him from worrying, though. 

"You left early last night." He points out. Last night, some high-end gallery opening in downtown D.C., too many cameras and far too many people. He’d invited her as his plus one, purely platonically, of course, and because he knew she was the only friend he had that liked art just as much as he did, though she hadn't wanted to go. He hadn't blamed her, especially when they’d got there; Coraline's ex, Scott, and his new girlfriend had shown up, apparently friends with the gallery owner, their hands a little too wandering. If his ex and their new partner showed up, flouting their relationship in front of him, he'd be pretty upset and reluctant to go, too. He’d managed to persuade her to come the night before, albeit through incessant nagging, so much so that he thinks she probably only relented to shut him up. Though, looking back at it now, he wishes they had just stayed at home.

Coraline hums into her coffee cup. Her brown hair still falls in loose, half-styled curls around her face; she tucks a little behind her ear. "I was tired. My bed was calling," she insists with a bright smile. 

He doesn't entirely believe her, even though she's a pretty great actress and, consequently, just as good at hiding how she really feels. Because he knows she saw them last night. It was hard not to; a cramped room like that gave you no place to hide, and they weren't exactly being subtle. He saw the way she'd shuffle uncomfortably then their laughter would filter through the quiet space, soft but still piercing. Marcus was convinced that they were doing it on purpose, especially when he caught Scott stealing glances from across the room whenever he thought no one was looking. He was trying to get a reaction and, being as graceful as she was, she hadn't given him that, even if she had spent the entire night with her brows furrowed and wearing a smile he could tell was fake.

He watches her curiously; the way she sips her coffee slowly, how her hair curls softly against her neck, the gentle curve of her pink lips that seems permenant around him. But he’s never been the most subtle, at least, not around her. She notices him staring, gaze lingering for far too long over the gentle contours of her face, and their eyes meet for a second; they're immediately lit by another even brighter smile that pulls across her glossed lips. "What?" She questions. Her cheeks always flush pink whenever he looks at her for longer than a moment. 

He shakes his head, returning her smile, perhaps a little too enthusiastically when his teeth peak through a little. "Nothing, I just-" I just want you to be happy, he thinks. But he doesn't say it, because she must know that already, and just shakes his head. "Nothing." He repeats. 

"You're staring."

"I am not."

"Yes, you are." She chuckles, poking his leg with the toe of her boot. “Why are you staring?”

"Cora, I'm not staring."

He is staring. He can't help it. Especially when she smiles. 

She regards him for a second. Sometimes, he wonders if she can read his mind, given the way her eyes trace over his face like she's reading a book. Truthfully, he wouldn’t mind if she did read his mind. "I'm fine." She answers the unspoken question lingering thick in the air. The real reason he's looking at her like he is. A laugh lilts at the edges of her insistence and he can tell that she's lying; there's a furrow pulling at her eyebrows that gives her away. He’s learned to look for it. "Why wouldn't I be?" She knows exactly why. But it seems like that's all they talk about, how she is. And she doesn't want to anymore. She's fine. 

Because your ex-husband spent the entire night trying to make you jealous, he wants to say. But he doesn't. He leaves it alone.

Marcus leant back in his chair. He doesn't push it. "No reason." 

Coraline peers at him over the top of her coffee cup — it's almost too big for her hands — but she doesn't press it further, even if she does raise her eyebrows a little. Or, at least, she doesn't get a chance too, because someone is calling out to her from across the coffee shop. "No reason." She repeats with a soft hum. 

She peels her eyes away from Marcus, almost like it's some great hardship to stop looking at him, and turns her smile towards whoever had called her name. He recognises her as Loren Hull, Coraline's childhood best friend, struggling to push through the door with a stroller, even as someone holds the door open for her and another helps her inside. 

Coraline watches with amusement as Loren teeters towards them. "How are you?" She asks as she hugs her. Her attention switches towards the gurgling baby in the stroller; she was chewing on a toy, far too preoccupied to pay attention to anything that was going on around her. That was until she catches sight of Coraline and cries out with glee. "And how's my favourite goddaughter?" She coos. 

Loren huffs out a groan. Her blonde hair is tied haphazardly on top of her head, curls spilling out at either side, falling into her face. There are dark circles beneath her green eyes. "She's great-" She grins down at her daughter for a moment before her head throws back. "But I'm exhausted." She's talking far too fast, the words falling from her mouth, in the same way, an almost nonsensical rambling might. It's almost like she thinks that, if she doesn't talk fast, she'll never be able to get the words out. "I can't stay long- oh, hey, Marcus-" It's like in her hurry and she hasn't noticed he's there until now. He doesn't blame her; Coraline has mentioned that she's still getting to grips with being a single mom. "-but I need coffee otherwise I'm going to pass out."

Coraline is grinning down at Loren's daughter, Maisie, whispering soft 'hello's at her, completely distracted by the baby who seemed just as captivated. The baby giggles and reaches for Cora's fingers, kicking her legs excitedly under the pink blanket. "I could look after her tonight if you need some rest." Her eyes don't leave Maisie, who's tiny fingers wrap tightly around Coraline's pointer finger. Half of him wonders if she'd actually meant to offer her help or if the whispers had come out before she had chance to think them through. 

"You could?" Loren's face lights up with relief. 

"Of course!" Cora's eyes come to rest on Marcus. "Would you mind?" 

"Not at all." He shoots her a smile. They're meant to be seeing a movie. It's some horror film he's never heard of; he isn't a massive fan of horror but Coraline had wanted to see it — it had something to do with her and her father watching horror films together when she was younger, even if they were terrible and laughably cheesy — and had managed to persuade him the night before at the gala, when they were both a little too tipsy and he was trying his best to distract her as Scott's lips dragged over his new girlfriend's neck. He'd glanced up every now and then, just to see if she was watching them. Luckily, she never was. 

"Oh, you're a lifesaver." Loren exhales, like she's been underwater for months and her head has only just poked above the surface. "Both of you." She turns to Marcus and flashes him a bright but exhausted smile. 

"What are best friend's for?" Cora chuckles as Loren pulls away to order her drink. "Drop her off later."

"I'll be by at seven," she announces as she grabs her drink, backing the stroller out of the coffee shop with decidedly more grace than when she'd entered. Patrons part the way for her and she murmurs a 'sorry' at everyone she passes or accidentally whacks with her nappy bag. 

Coraline's eyes linger on the baby for a few moments longer as they leave; her expression flickers, softening, like she's considering something, like she's plagued by conflict. Coraline taps her fingers on the table, perfect pale pink nails rapping a steady beat against the wood. Eventually, her eyebrows furrow and she draws back into herself, like realisation has hit and she's snapped herself back to reality. 

"Are you sure you don't mind? You can find something else to do, you don't have to become a pro bono babysitter with me." She wants him to help her out. She really does. She tries not to let the hopeful glint reach her eyes.

But she feels especially bad because Marcus rarely has days off. It's a rare Sunday when he's in between cases and hasn’t been dragged in on a weekend. And she's dragging him along to look after a baby he's never even met before. 

He shakes his head. "Why would I mind?" He gets to spend time with her. He enjoys her company too much to turn her down.

She shrugs and takes another sip of her drink. He can tell by the way that she scowls that it's gone a little cold. He doesn't know how she drinks it, anyway. There's too much caramel — it was far too sweet — but she seemed to like it and he'd seen her tired self go through three in an hour before. "Changing diapers isn't exactly a thrilling pastime."

"I'm sure I'll live."

Coraline pushes herself to her feet. A breeze ruffles the skirt of her dress, billowing the pale yellow fabric against her knees like it had a mind of its own. She finishes off the last drops of her drink and sighs. "Well, then, we’re going to need some more coffee."

...

Coraline has been rushing around her apartment for most of the day. She isn't sure if she's nervous or if she just has too much caffeine buzzing through her veins. Perhaps it's both. She's not even aware of her surroundings, only that Marcus has been sitting on the couch trying to get her to relax for the past hour and she's fussed meticulously over every square inch of her apartment at least three times. She just needs to keep her hands busy. 

"Cora, she's a baby." He chuckles as Coraline scowls at the magazines on the coffee table. She bends down to straighten them, huffing out an inpatient breath as she does so. "She's not going to care what your apartment looks like."

She ignores him, turning swiftly on her heels to straighten out the woollen throw draping over her couch. "Relax," Marcus insists. He watches her with concern as she pauses, sucks in a shallow breath and turns to slump down against the opposite end of the couch. Her head falls back against the cushions. "What's wrong?"

"It's just-" She doesn't even know what she means to say. She doesn't really have an explanation for it — why she's frantically rushing around her apartment trying to keep her mind off Maisie and the babysitting job she'd found herself — so she doesn't bother offering one. Maybe it's because all she can think about is how much she'd wanted a baby when she was with Scott and how she has no idea what she wants anymore, now that he's gone and she's alone again. Everything's so confusing now; she can barely bring herself to think about it. It just doesn't make sense. Coraline tells Marcus a lot of things (he probably knows more about her than Loren does, and they'd been best friends since they were six) but some things just weren't for sharing. Maybe he already knows. She hopes he does, it would make things much easier, and then she doesn’t have to bite back pointless tears when she eventually tells him. 

Coraline lets out an overly-dramatic sigh and turns her head towards Marcus. He's still watching her, brown eyes softer now. He smiles and she shakes her head to clear away the thoughts. "I'm glad you're here, you know," she admits. Her eyes drag back up to the ceiling. 

"Of course you are. You'd never survive without me." He quips. 

"Oh, sure. How I ever managed to live twenty-eight years without you, I'll never know."

Marcus' eyes crease at the corner as he laughs a little at his joke. "I know you'll be good at this whole baby thing." She lulls her head to the side to watch him; she shuffles against her hip, resting her cheek against the dimpled green couch cushion and watches him as his dark eyes light up. In the time that she's known him, barely even six months, though it seems like far longer, she can only think of a handful of times when she'd seen him without a smile. Even then, most of those were after a long day of paperwork, and she could usually make him smile after a few minutes of prodding at him to tell her what's wrong. 

"I have work early tomorrow." Coraline points out. "This was a bad idea. I should be sleeping."

"Well, you did offer.”

"I know, and it was a terrible idea." She sighs. "Y’know, I think Maisie hates me."

"Maisie is a baby, Cora."

"Babies still have feelings, Marcus."

He chuckles. "She loves you, don't be ridiculous."

His words are punctuated by a knock on the door. It's almost frantic, like whoever's on the other side's intentions are urgent. Coraline groans a little as she stands up; she knows exactly who it is and she drags her feet towards the door, trying her best to push past her concern. She lowers her head to the door's peephole before yanking it open. She has a wide grin on her face when she greets Loren and Maisie. "Good evening." Her voice is lilting, soft and bright and cheerful, like Marcus is used to hearing. It makes him smile, the way she's gone from a worry that seemed to be spreading rapidly through her back to her bright self. He's never seen her so panicked, even around her ex; she's normally so laid back and relaxed. 

Coraline pulls the door open a little further before sweeping Maisie and her stroller inside. Loren murmurs that she's asleep and Cora starts to rock the stroller back and forth, trying her best to keep the baby asleep for as long as she can. It gave her time to regain her scattered composure. Marcus pushes himself up from the armchair he'd been reclined in and sweeps over to take Maisie from Coraline and away from the entryway. 

"Oh-" It startles her a little, when his hands reach out and fingers accidentally brush over her wrist. "Thank you." She smiles at him softly as he backs the stroller out into the living room. 

"Marcus is here?" Loren's eyes light up and a grin pulls at her lips when he falls out of earshot. Her eyebrows raise playfully. 

"Yes."

Her grin only widens. "Are you on a date?"

"No." Coraline scoffs. 

Loren doesn't seem to be giving up and she certainly doesn't believe her. She never does, not usually. She seems to have convinced herself that Cora and Marcus are in love or secretly dating, or both. "This is a date, isn't it?"

"It's not a date, Loren." Cora rolls her eyes but she can't help but smile. She tried to conceal it but she can't stifle the way her corners quirk upwards. It's most definitely not a date — that had ever even crossed her mind — and it's just hilarious how Loren seems to be convinced that her oldest friend is harbouring a secret affection for her best friend. She looks between them both with a glint in her blue eyes, like she knows something they don't and she's just waiting for them to figure it out. Except there’s nothing to figure out. They’re friends. Just friends.

"Whatever you say.” She giggles. Loren smiles back at Marcus, who's stood back by the couch, rocking the stroller back and forth. Coraline follows her gaze and smiles fondly at him; he's not paying attention to them and he doesn't notice the way they're both watching him. 

"We're just friends," Coraline insists again as she turns back to Loren. 

"Sure you are." She smirks. ”I promise I won’t say ‘I told you so’.”

"Just go." Coraline takes her best friend by the shoulders and guides her back out of the door but she can't help the smile that spills onto her lips again. 

"Can I be your maid of honour?"

"Go home and sleep!" 

"Please!"

"I'm shutting the door now, goodbye."

"There are diapers in the bag and she's already been fed," Loren adds hastily as Coraline inched the door shut. "I'll be back in a few hours."

...

Maisie slept for a little while, but now she's wide awake, giggling and trying her best to grab Coraline's curls. The baby sits on Cora's lap, small fingers reaching out towards her insistently. She'd offer her one of the toys Loren had left for her but she only seems interested in them for a few seconds before Coraline's hair tumbles over her shoulder and she grows distracted again. 

She's torn between tying her hair up or just letting Maisie tug on it to her heart's content. But she doesn't; she just lightly whispers no with a shake of her head, a smile and a shake of whatever toy she reaches for first. And it's a never-ending cycle until finally, Maisie decides that hair isn't for her and she prefers the blue teething ring that Coraline reaches for last.

"You really are great with her,” Marcus comments. 

She chuckles, a breathy laugh through her nose. "I'm great with everyone." She pokes her tongue at the corner of her lip and grins. He notices, when she does that, says something about herself being great or that she's good at something, her cheeks flush pink a little. She only means it as a joke, he knows that, but it's almost like it embarrasses her to say or think anything like that. Her eyes betray the way she struggles with it. 

"I have nephews." She shrugs. "I was a great babysitter back in the day."

Maisie makes a gleeful noise, halfway between a squeal and a laugh, and drops the teething ring to the sofa, disinterested. She makes a grab for Coraline's hair again, reaching forward to try and swipe it between her fingers. But Cora's own fingers block her clutches. "No," she whispers quietly with a smile and a chuckle. She pushes her small hand away gently but Maisie delights in it, face illuminating in a grin, and reaches out for Coraline’s curls insistently. 

Marcus reaches down to pick up the toy as Coraline laughs, too distracted to even bother. His arm brushes hers as he does so. She's always struck by how warm he is. The first time she'd noticed it, the day they'd first met, she thought it was because of the sun streaming in through the briefing room’s glass windows. But she’d noticed it every single time he’d touched her since — even just the slightest touch or brush of a hand — until she thinks she’s used to it. She isn’t. His touch warms whatever bare skin it touches immediately and she shudders; Marcus doesn't seem to notice and she's glad because she doesn't want to explain that one fleeting touch from him warms up her entire, otherwise freezing, body.

It's a cliche, she knows that. The kind of cliche you read about in cheesy romance novels. It makes her cheeks burn — Coraline knows she's going bright red; she can feel it crawling slowly over her skin and she shivers like there's a cold breeze dancing it's way up the back of her neck — because she doesn't know what it means. She's never really felt it before she met him, this odd, confusing burn that started in her chest, then blooms out like flowers through her whole body. She usually just brushes it off because it happens whenever and wherever, without warning It just arrives out of the blue, triggered by a glance or a laugh or the briefest touch of a hand. It's ridiculous but she can't help but turn it over and over and over in her mind at night, when she tries to sleep, until she's restless and staring at the wooden beams that stretch across her bedroom ceiling. 

"Do you want kids?" Coraline asks. It’s out of the blue. Her expression almost makes it seem like she wants him to ask her the question, like she's desperate to talk about it with someone, anyone, before it bursts from her chest. Although, he can't help but wonder if she never meant to ask, or if she regrets asking, given the way her eyes fall back to Maisie who's resumed her chewing on the teething ring again. Though, Coraline barely realises she's given anything away. Then again, she doesn't even realise that there is anything to give away. She's so enchanted by the baby and the brush of Marcus' arm against hers that she's giving away maybe a little more than she intends. It's strange to see her like this given her flustered panic of just an hour earlier. 

Marcus takes a moment, a pause to figure out the right answer, then he nods a little. "I would, yes. Some day." He pauses for another second, watching the way her eyes glimmer as she looks at her goddaughter. He already knows her answer before he even asks the question. Or, at least, the real answer. "Do you?"

Coraline's eyes light up; her blue eyes look like the sky on a sunny day. "Maybe," she hums. When she looks up to meet his eyes, the small smile she gives betrays the truth. But she cuts it off like it's wrong or forbidden or downright ridiculous, like she shouldn't feel those things. He notices the way her lips falter like she's biting back the urge to say something, a secret on the tip of her tongue, and how she tugs her lower lip in between her teeth to stop her from smiling again. 

He thinks he knows what makes her so unsure about that. Why she cuts herself off and seems to tell herself it's wrong. She's mentioned it once before, when she was tired — she talks a lot when she's tired, but it's mostly incoherent mumblings that he has to admit, he finds adorable — that Scott didn't want kids. Marcus has never brought up what she’d told him (if she really wants him to know, she'd have told him by now, when she's completely coherent and conscious) but it tugs at the edge of his thoughts as her sentences go quiet when she sees a mother and their baby. They make her smile fondly. It's a smile that's been all-too-lacking since her divorce. 

He understands. It’s happened to him before, twice now. Twice he’s faced heartbreak, that horrible moment when things go sour. When you’re left with a million little ‘what ifs’, wondering where exactly things went so wrong. Wondering if there was anything you could have done, anything at all, to make things better. It’s a dull ache that sits deep in his chest. And it’s agonising. He hates how familiar the feeling has become. 

Marcus has never told her about his past relationships - about his first marriage and eventual divorce, about his last engagement and how it had ended almost as quickly as it had begun, how he’d found himself alone in D.C. without a soul in the world to talk to - and he also hasn’t told her that meeting her was like a fresh start, like the sun had finally peaked through the rain clouds that had hung over his head for so long. She’d helped him settle, finally, even after six months struggling to feel at home in a new, lonely city. She’d welcomed him, helped him find new friends, and stuck by him the entire time. She doesn’t have to be his friend; he’s sure she has much cooler, younger friends that don’t spend most of their days hunched over an ever-growing mountain of paperwork or hidden away inside some tiny downtown art gallery. Sure, he’d be upset if their weekly meetings came to a halt, but he wouldn’t blame her if she chose someone more like herself over him.

Mostly, Marcus just hadn't wanted to dredge up old feelings, not when she was in the thick of a divorce and clearly struggling, no matter how much she pretended she was okay. So he never told her what had happened. When she'd confided in him for the first time those few short months ago, spilling her deepest secrets, staying up until 3am just pouring her heart out to him over the phone, he'd wondered if it was best to tell her. To let her know that he knew how she felt, that he understood. But he still hasn't. She’s asked about his past before, nagging until he relented and revealed things he's never really had much trouble revealing before, and he has told her parts of it. But he usually skirts around the details, like there's nothing important to reveal. He isn't sure why he does it, especially when she opens up to him so easily. He guesses that the moment has never seemed right. 

Maisie's hand is twisted into the fabric of Coraline's dress. She shakes the teething ring in her hands like it's a rattle. "I've never had the chance," she admits, suddenly. "To have kids."

"You've still got time."

"Barely." She sighs. He raises an eyebrow, like he's asking her what she means, but she doesn't continue. She waves a hand and brushes off his concern. "It's not important," she insists. 

But it is important. He knows it is. And, if it matters to her, it matters to him.

[bloody-bee-tea]

Ahhhhhhh I’m soooo in love with everything you write for the Eldrich Lan AU! We get to see so much soft xicheng and a content Jiang Cheng I luv him SM he deserves all the happiness ;-; I was wondering if you’d ever do a Wangxian one? That would be super cool, I feel like their dynamics would be fun to explore! Either way, I absolutely love your writing! I’m subscribed to you on ao3 and it makes me so excited when I get emails saying you uploaded hehe

Wangji Week 2020 Day 4

Previous part

Wherever the chaos is and Righteousness

Lan Wangji knows his reputation, knows what the people, common folk as well as other cultivators, say about him.

They praise his willingness to be where the chaos is, they admire him for upholding the honour of his sect in such an impressive way. They praise his righteousness, his sense of honour and his fairness. 

They call him Hanguang-Jun, Bearer of Light, but Lan Wangji knows what they would call him if they knew what is under his human skin.

He has heard it before; monster, abomination. It wouldn’t be anything new. 

Lan Wangji’s own mother has called him that; Lan Xichen believes Lan Wangji was too small to remember, but that is not true. He remembers it. It’s what pushed him to learn control as early as he did; suppressing his form and forming his human skin to the liking of his mother.

The few people who have found out over the years have hurled insults at him, tinged with fear and terror. None of them have survived long enough to tell the tale and spill the secrets of the Gusu Lan Sect. 

No one had asked questions when Lan Wangji had killed more Wen cultivators than should have been humanly possible. 

It’s how he likes it.

And Lan Wangji was happy to keep it that way, too. But then Wei Wuxian came back and now there is nothing but uncertainty in his heart and mind.

Wei Wuxian is where Lan Wangji always dreamed him to be, right by Lan Wangji’s side, and Wei Wuxian has promised to stay, a teasing tilt to his lips as he tangled his fingers in Lan Wangji’s forehead ribbon that spilled over his back.

And Lan Wangji is unwilling to do anything that could make him leave. 

He has already spend so much of his life without Wei Wuxian at his side, and he won’t risk it, not again. Lan Wangji knows that he is partly to blame for that; if he had managed more words, explained his intentions more clearly, then maybe Wei Wuxian would have listened to him, would have let him help.

Instead Lan Wangji remembers the feeling of absolute fear and bone chilling desperation when Wei Wuxian stepped closer to the edge and threw himself off it. 

And Lan Wangji does not want to experience those feelings again, ever. So keeping quiet about his true nature, about the secret every Lan carries with them, it’s the only logical option.

And since Wei Wuxian is right by his side, and not questioning anything, Lan Wangji pushes those thoughts away. It’s easy to do when Wei Wuxian demands his attention anyway.

“Lan Zhan,” he hears Wei Wuxian call for him and Lan Wangji puts down the bunny in his arms, because he knows what will happen.

He hears Wei Wuxian approach, he’s not trying to be silent, and a second later he’s hanging off Lan Wangji’s shoulder, pouting over it when he finds Lan Wangji’s arms empty.

“Aww, you’re not holding one,” Wei Wuxian complains. “I wanted to pet one.”

“You jostle me,” Lan Wangji explains and gently shrugs Wei Wuxian off.

He doesn’t want to put the distance between them, but he does want to wipe the pout and small frown from Wei Wuxian’s face, so picking up one of the calmer bunnies is the only option he has here.

Wei Wuxian immediately reaches out to pet it when Lan Wangji offers it to him, but he doesn’t take it from his arms. They have learned that while the bunnies will allow Wei Wuxian to pet them when Lan Wangji is close, they will not stay still when Wei Wuxian is the one who holds them.

“They still only love you,” Wei Wuxian complains and Lan Wangji allows himself a small smile. 

They do love him, and they have been a constant source of comfort in some of his darker days. 

“I am still amazed that something so fluffy and small adores something like you,” Wei Wuxian offhandedly says, still concentrated on the bunny in Lan Wangji’s arms, so he doesn’t notice how Lan Wangji freezes up.

“What?” he forces himself to whisper and his heart beats painfully in his chest when Wei Wuxian gives him a look, a mix between a smile and a frown, showing his confusion at Lan Wangji’s reaction.

“What?” Wei Wuxian repeats, seemingly unaware of what he just said, and while Lan Wangji wishes he could be as oblivious, he can’t.

This isn’t just about him. It’s about his sect and the people he loves, too.

“What did you say?” he brings out and Wei Wuxian tilts his head in thought before he brightens up.

“Oh, I mean. I know it’s supposed to be a secret, and it’s not like I really know what you are, but, yeah. I know you’re not human. I thought I mentioned it before.”

“Wei Ying did not,” Lan Wangji mutters and carefully puts the bunny down again, stepping away from them, and from Wei Wuxian.

He’s shaking from head to toe, and it’s hard for him to keep his form in check. He always loses control when he gets emotional. It’s still a wonder he didn’t change when Wei Wuxian died, though Lan Wangji guesses it was pure shock that kept him human.

He doesn’t feel the same kind of shock now, so he stands up straight and tries to calm his mind.

“Lan Zhan, what’s wrong? You’re bunnies are all agitated,” Wei Wuxian says as he eyes the bunnies, who do seem more nervous than they normally do. 

They flock to Lan Wangji, press against his legs, and Lan Wangji tries to concentrate on that.

His mind is still screaming at him, mostly questions—how did Wei Wuxian find out, what will he do with this knowledge, did he tell someone, when will he leave—and the horrible thought that he didn’t even get to enjoy Wei Wuxian’s company for a whole month.

Maybe his family really is doomed for tragic love stories.

“How long?” Lan Wangji asks, though he’s aware that is not the most important question. 

He can’t bring himself to ask the most important ones. Do you hate me? Are you afraid of me? Disgusted? He’s not sure he can stand the answer.

“I—,” Wei Wuxian starts and instinctively reaches for Chenqing for comfort. “Since the Burial Mounds,” he finally admits with a self-deprecating smile. “Your energy, it’s closer to what I use in demonic cultivation than to those of humans. At first I thought it was just you, that I had somehow tainted you, but then I met Lan Xichen and other cultivators from your sect and I realized it isn’t just you.”

That’s a horribly long time. 

“Who—,” Lan Wangji starts and then has to clear his throat, the fear and worry making him too emotional, “who did you tell?”

“Tell?” Wei Wuxian asks and he seems honestly affronted. “No one of course, Lan Zhan, I wouldn’t. And besides, who would even believe me?”

“Oh,” Lan Wangji gives back at that. “You know you don’t have to stay, right?” he then haltingly adds, because what if Wei Wuxian is just staying here out of fear?

Thinks he’s not allowed to leave, even though that’s all he wants to do.

“Ah, Lan Zhan,” Wei Wuxian says with a small chuckle and that sound does more to relax Lan Wangji than all his mental exercises in the last few minutes have managed. “I’m staying because I want to stay.”

Lan Wangji can hardly believe it—why would he want to stay if he knows Lan Wangji isn’t human—but every time Wei Wuxian reaches out for him, touches him without hesitation, is downright clinging to him, tells Lan Wangji that Wei Wuxian is here on his own free will.

“I never want to leave you, Lan Zhan, you have to know that.”

Lan Wangji shakes his head, because he didn’t know that, especially not with the recent revelation and Wei Wuxian bounds over, careful to not step on the bunnies that are still huddled close to Lan Wangji, but seem to be calming down.

“No matter what you are, you’re still my Lan Zhan. You’re still so good, how could you be anything else?”

Lan Wangji’s heart lights up at hearing that, the casual possessiveness in Wei Wuxian’s words, but he still stumbles over the start of that sentence.

“No matter what I am? Does Wei Ying not know?” 

“No,” Wei Wuxian says with a shrug. “I just know that your energy is different. For all I know you could be a fluffy little cloud. It would explain why the bunnies love you so.”

Lan Wangji blinks at him, because that couldn’t be further from the truth.

“Not a cloud,” he denies.

“But cute and fluffy?” Wei Wuxian teases and Lan Wangji relaxes further.

“Not cute and fluffy, either,” he gives back and Wei Wuxian heaves out a deep sigh.

“Oh no, Lan Zhan, then my imagination is all used up,” he pouts and throws his arms around Lan Wangji’s neck, presses himself close. “Maybe you have to show me?”

“Shameless,” Lan Wangji says and tries desperately to not throw his arms around Wei Wuxian in return, because he isn’t sure he could ever let him go again.

“My form—its not nice to look at,” he finally admits and Wei Wuxian shakes his head.

“Impossible. Lan Zhan is always nice to look at,” Wei Wuxian gives back, with a confidence Lan Wangji can only hope to possess and then he forgets to breathe when Wei Wuxian noses at his cheek. “Won’t you show me, my Lan Zhan?”

Lan Wangji’s thoughts are flying through his head; there are still a lot of variables to consider, and Wei Wuxian could still walk away from him when he sees what Lan Wangji really looks like, but then Wei Wuxian gives him his best puppy eyes and Lan Wangji is helpless against that.

“Step back,” he instructs Wei Wuxian who does so with apparent glee as he bounces on the balls of his feet.

Lan Wangji takes one last look at Wei Wuxian’s beautiful, radiant face, because maybe it’s the last time he gets to see it like that, and then he allows his true form to take over. The bunnies barely blink an eye at his transformation, they are used to it by now, but Wei Wuxian’s eyes get bigger and bigger in his head.

Lan Wangji doesn’t open all his eyes, keeps most of them hidden, and he keeps his tentacles close to his body as well, trying to appear as unthreatening as he can in this form. He doesn’t think about the imperfections that mar him.

“Lan Zhan,” Wei Wuxian breathes out and Lan Wangji prepares for the worst.

“You’re so gorgeous,” Wei Wuxian says, voice awed and at his words Lan Wangji’s entire form kind of melts.

“Look at all those tentacles,” Wei Wuxian calls out in clear delight and he fearlessly steps closer and immediately reaches out for one.

Lan Wangji can’t help but to meet him halfway, slides his tentacle up his arm and around his back to bring him close, and Lan Wangji didn’t know touching a human could feel like this.

It’s electrifying and relaxing all at once, but mostly it feels a lot like coming home. Lan Wangji cannot explain it at all.

A few of his eyes must have opened in shock as well, because Wei Wuxian gasps. 

“So pretty,” he croons and pets Lan Wangji right under one of his eyes. “Still your beautiful eye colour.”

Right now, Lan Wangji is glad to be in this form, because at least here his ears can’t turn a bright red.

“Ah, you’ve been holding out on me,” Wei Wuxian complains as he steps right up to the mass centre of Lan Wangji. “How could you deny me of this?”

Lan Wangji is ashamed to find that the only answer he has to that is fear, and he hopes that he never has to tell Wei Wuxian that. He didn’t trust him, again.

“Ah, I see,” Wei Wuxian says and reassuringly pets the closest one of Lan Wangji’s tentacles. “You don’t have to be afraid,” Wei Wuxian tells him and Lan Wangji can’t help the inquiring noise he makes.

No one should understand him in this form.

“You’re not as hard to read as you think,” Wei Wuxian whispers conspiringly to him and then just lets himself fall into the middle of Lan Wangji, who immediately wraps him up in protective tentacles.

“This must be what heaven feels like,” Wei Wuxian mutters and then snuggles deeper into the embrace. “I love you, Lan Zhan.”

The shock of hearing those words, from Wei Wuxian, uttered to Lan Wangji in his true form, is enough to shock him back into human form.

“Noooo,” Wei Wuxian whines and slings his arms around Lan Wangji’s middle. “I wasn’t done cuddling.”

“Did you mean it?” Lan Wangji demands to know, and he’s sure that if he doesn’t get an answer immediately, he’s going to combust on the spot.

“Did I mean what?” Wei Wuxian asks, playfully blinking up at Lan Wangji.

“Wei Ying,” he scolds him and he can feel Wei Wuxian shudder against him.

“Of course I meant it, Lan Zhan. How could I not? I love you. Don’t you love me, too?”

Lan Wangji blinks a few times at that, his heart beating so fast in his chest and the relief making him light-headed, and he bends his neck down and hides his face in Wei Wuxian’s hair until he finds his voice again.

“I love you, too, Wei Ying,” he whispers and is rewarded with his favourite sound on the entire planet when Wei Wuxian laughs, happy and loud.

“Would have been embarrassing if you didn’t,” he whispers and then leans up on his tip-toes, his intent clear.

Lan Wangji has wanted to do this for so long, that the sheer prospect of finally getting to do it freezes him on the spot, but then Wei Wuxian’s lips are on his and there is no more hesitation.

Separating again is hard when Wei Wuxian darts in for little kisses and pecks again and again, and Lan Wangji is loathe to let go of him, so he simply doesn’t.

“You’re not afraid,” Lan Wangji can’t help but whisper eventually, because that knowledge is still blowing his mind a little bit, and Wei Wuxian laughs again.

“Not at all. You’re all mine and so pretty. How could I be afraid of you.”

The words are a balm for Lan Wangji’s soul and he buries his face in Wei Wuxian’s neck, breathing in deep and just revelling in the fact that he gets to have this at all.

He never dared to hope for this, but then again, Wei Wuxian always exceeds expectations. And Lan Wangji couldn’t be happier about it.

Next Part

[joeyglowy]

Can i request a scenario where Atsumu’s girlfriend feels lonely because he barely had time for her so he dedicates his weekend to her

No worries! Realistically, as much as I’d like Atsumu to dedicate an entire weekend, he’d still give a good portion of it to volleyball cause that’s just how he is. In any case, I still hope you enjoy the scenario I did, that explored the ‘lonely’ part and ‘spending time together’ part in equal portions.

Miya Atsumu x Fem! Reader

WHAT I’M HERE FOR.

Although dating Atsumu was certainly a thrilling endeavour, it also happened to be a rather lonely one.

Miya Atsumu was something akin to the illustrious ‘Forbidden Fruit.’

He was a scorching red that disrupted the serenity and tranquillity of the garden. He was a pulsating, bleeding crimson heart that tantalised you from afar. He was alluring and he knew it. He burned everyone that he touched and yet he’d draw them in all the same. He was searing, he was like scalding water. If you got too close, not only would he evade you but he’d manage to singe you in the process.

Being with him was like a lucid dream.

He was elusive, too elusive.

A relationship with him was not quite the romantic comedy you had asked for. Being second to volleyball is something that was both bitter on the tongue yet mesmerising on the eyes. Atsumu’s passion, however scorching, never failed to ignite something that was reminiscent to childish glee inside of you. He brought it out of everyone. From his opponents, his teammates, the crowd, it didn’t matter, but Atsumu was what they meant when they say:

You can’t look away.

Finishing your club activities, you looked longingly at the gym and sighed as you offered a small smile to your friends who were waiting up ahead. Inarizaki was a prestigious school, one that took great pride in their sporting, particularly well known for their volleyball team. As such, their practice always extended until the skies were coloured with purple sunsets and stars.

[5:32 PM]

hey~ you free to hang out this weekend tsumu? theres a festival nearby which might be fun to go to!

[5:40 PM]

sorry babe

captains makin all the practices longer cause of nationals

- 3 -

dunno if ill be able to

[5:42 PM]

all g! you better do well then, if you get knocked out of the first round of nationals I’ll kill you

[5:45 PM]

come on babe, its me we’re talkin bout here~

;))))

breaks bout to end so ill text ya later

thnx for bein chill babe~

You couldn’t help but sigh as you let your phone fall from your vision to your side before roughly shoving it into the depths of your pockets. Your group of friends eyed you warily.

“[Name]-chan, if he never spends that much time with you, is there really a point being with him?”

It was a question your friends often asked. Never out of malice, but always out of genuine curiosity and concern whenever they see you look at your phone solemnly. Unfortunately, you’ve asked yourself that question a few times too.

It was almost unbearable, like being put on a diet. He was the taste of all chocolates, candies and lollipops that you’d snack on but was always hidden away, as if his enjoyment was a ‘one time’ thing per week. You hated the fact that it felt like your relationship was just like those candies, stowed away on the top shelf, only to come whenever he felt like it. He was tumultuous and exciting but he left you feeling cold for he always went away too soon.

It’s not as if you didn’t get it. He loved volleyball, it was his passion, it was his world and that was completely okay. You knew all that and yet… it always felt as if you clung onto the relationship a bit tighter than he did.

Even so, you had always answered that question with a shaky, but determined ‘yes.’

“I don’t really know. Nationals are coming up though so it’s natural that he’d be extra busy, he’s practicing hard so, I really can’t blame him for that, you know?”

Now, you weren’t so sure.

You smiled through the cracks on your teeth as you all continued on your way.

~*~

“Ouch.”

“ACK–!”

Atsumu choked out a strangled scream as his bottle flew out of his hands before he eventually caught it in a hurried motion saving it from plummeting to the ground, turning to give his most withering glare he could muster to the source of his near death experience before deadpanning to find an identical deadpan boring into him. Osamu, being completely immune to Atsumu’s glares only shrugged nonchalantly as he made a gesture to fill his own bottle by the taps before glancing casually up at his fuming brother.

“That sure doesn’t sound too good ta me ‘Tsumu.”

Atsumu had gone to fill his bottle at the drink taps just outside the gym but he had stumbled on the conversation you had been having with your friends by accident. Osamu had apparently followed and thought it was necessary to almost completely blow his cover by nearly shocking him into a seizure. Atsumu’s scowl deepened in spite of the guilt and concern gnawing his mind as he harrumphed angrily.

“It’s none of ya damn business ‘Samu!” he retorted stubbornly, looking away so that his brother couldn’t see the distress on his face.

Osamu snorted. Even if he couldn’t see his brother’s face, he (unfortunately) had sixteen years of experience to document Atsumu’s irrational behaviours and idiosyncrasies tucked away in a rather large folder in his mind. Osamu’s not too happy about that folder occupying as large of a space as it did but he definitely didn’t want to see it get bigger by adding a ‘heartbroken ‘tsumu’ subheading.

“If I were you bro, I’d do something about it. Last thing I want is ta deal with yer crying ass and ya eating my pudding to ease ya through the inevitable break up.”

Atsumu stilled at that word: ‘breakup.’

He didn’t think that you guys were broken, nor did it feel as if you guys were losing your feelings. Atsumu was a man of the highest calibre. He never half-assed anything and he held the same standard for everyone he was acquainted with. It was often the decider if people hated or liked him.

For you, it was a decider that you loved him. He was sure of it.

Atsumu furrowed his brows in determination. He was a man that pushed things to the limits and he most certainly did not settle for mediocrity. Whatever it is, he was going to make sure you’d both get through it.

“Fuck you ‘Samu, ya can keep yer damn pudding, just watch, I’ll—‘SAMU!”

As per usual, Osamu had left Atsumu in the middle of his epiphany. Seriously, who does that bastard think he is!?

~*~

Since you had nothing better to do, you decided to get a start on studying on the Saturday, not that you were too happy about having to spend another weekend alone.

Your solitude, however, was sourly interrupted by rapid banging on your door. Aggravated to have your rare ounce of motivation disrupted, you flung open the door with a bit more force than necessary only to be met with your boyfriend, still sweaty from practice.

“[Name]-chan!? What’re ya doing, hurry up and get ready, we have a festival to catch don’t we?” Atsumu gasped out, perhaps on a small adrenaline high after practice. You were a little taken back by his enthusiasm before you narrowed your eyes.

“I thought you couldn’t make it? You can’t just come here expecting me to hang out with you just because you’re suddenly up for it ‘Tsumu,” you say slowly, wincing to hear your words come out a little more scathing than what you’re used to. It’s not as if you had anything planned for the day but you couldn’t help but feel a little annoyed that he’d act as if he could do whatever he wanted whenever he wanted.

Atsumu’s eyes flashed momentarily with guilt and he chewed the inside of his cheek before he ducked his head, looking up at you with his burning caramel eyes. “I know but, couldya give me a chance to make it up ta ya? Please [Name]-chan~” he whined pathetically, dramatically clapping his hands in front of his face as he screwed his eyes shut, pouting. You sighed, not finding the heart to ever deny him, you swore you would one day build up immunity to his puppy pouts.

“Fine, fine, just let me get dressed properly.”

His eyes suddenly snapped open, lighting up with a friendly suggestion on the tip of his tongue—

“Alone asshole.”

He grimaced to have the door slammed in his face… yeah, he probably deserved that.

~*~

“Oh my god, ‘Tsumu, you have to get me that jumbo fox plushy!”

Atsumu couldn’t hide his grin for a moment to see the way your eyes lit up at all the decorations than hung overhead on wires or ornaments on stalls as you cooed and awed at all the different ones. He realised it had been way too long since he got to see you get so excited like this, to see your eyes shimmer like diamonds and your smile crystallise like stalactites. Even if there were lights illuminating the area, he was certain that you had to be the one powering all of them.

“Eh~? Aren’tcha a little too old for plushies?” he teased gently, murmuring in a soft voice that was reserved just for your ears.

You waved him off dismissively, your eyes drawn to the golden fox that reminded you a little too much of your own cunning boyfriend. “Nonsense, you can never be too old for cute things. Besides, you’re a brat and yet I’m still dating you, aren’t I?”

Atsumu’s frowned, adamantly squawking, “I am not a brat you–” he broke himself off for a moment before his lips curled into a sleazy Cheshire grin. “Oh? So you think I’m cute, do you?”

You deadpanned, unamused. “Well you’re not good for much else other than volleyball or being an asshole, are you?”

Atsumu winced, huffing as he crossed his arms over his chest childishly, resisting the urge to further prove your point by puffing out his cheeks. “Mean! Yer so mean [Name]-chan! I finally take you out and this is the thanks I get!? Why am I even dating ya anyway!?”

The words had tactlessly slipped out in a fit of momentum and for a moment, he stiffened, like he wanted to take it back upon realising that the reason why he had done this is because your very relationship was on the brink. He suddenly stumbled over his words, getting flustered as he tried to find the best way to reword it. You blinked curiously, mulling over what could have spurred such a reaction. Briefly, you wondered if he had heard you when you were with your friends… that he had somehow known of your doubts.

“I mean, course I know why I like ya! Yer–!”

You patiently listened to Atsumu as he listed all the little things you do, all the little trivial stuff that you never even noticed about yourself to you. In less than eloquent words, he admired how assertive you were with him, how you always spoke your mind and lately you hadn’t been doing that. He was clearly growing more and more embarrassed at the sheer honesty of it all and with each stumble he made that fractured his swollen pride, it was like he put a Band-Aid on the doubts in your mind.

You suddenly brought his neck down and he lurched before his forehead was pressed to yours as you kissed the corner of his mouth, immediately putting a halt to his rather humiliating spiel of emotions.

“You’re really not good at this whole, emotional honesty thing, are you? No wonder I had to confess first.” You snickered to yourself and Atsumu cringed in chagrin, ready to rebut as his cheeks flared red before you smiled adoringly at him. “Thank you for that and for today ‘Tsumu. I’m sorry that you somehow had to figure out I was having doubts rather than me just being up front about it. But, I love you ‘Tsumu, I really do.”

You grinned, your nose brushing against his as the two of you stood in the middle of the path. People were probably staring at you but neither of you particularly cared as you beamed at him, watching his ears turn a shade darker.

“This, you, are exactly what I signed up for when I asked you out. I love your passion for volleyball, I find it hilarious that you can be an absolute dick to everyone but you can’t even properly admit to yourself when you’re genuinely moved. You’re a bit of an idiot and all asshole, but that’s exactly what I’m here for. But, please don’t think I’m being unreasonable when I say I want to see you more. I mean, that’s what relationships are for, to get laid and feel the good stuff you know.”

Atsumu had been stunned into silence, the way his scrutinising eyes laid you bare made you flush but you held your ground confidently. “Heh,” he let out, albeit breathless and trying to cover up his own mortification as he narrowed his eyes playfully. “I thought ‘getting laid’ and ‘feeling the good stuff’ were the same thing.” He laughed when you playfully smacked his chest and although the grin he sported was of the devilish variety, the warmth he held in his smouldering golden eyes was more than enough to express how touched he really was.

“Well,” he growled under his breath as his lips hovered above your ear, drawing you in close by slithering his arms around your waist. “I’d be more than happy ta listen ta any request ya have if ya put it like that.”

He suddenly felt the warmth by his neck stolen away as you slipped out of his hold by bobbing down, his teeth clamping on thin air as he whined to see you duck away from his hold with a sneaky grin.

“You still owe me dunderhead. I want that fox.”

“But ya already got a fox right ‘ere!”

“Hmm, I think I’ve forgotten what makes you the number one setter in the high school prefectures, I think I need a reminder~”

“NOW YER ASKIN’ FOR IT–!”

Even if the two of you were a little embarrassed to openly discuss your feelings all the time, which, more often than not, was disguised under bouts of bickering and teasing, if there’s one thing the two of you knew very well:

You both knew exactly what you were here for…

To get laid and feel the good stuff obviously.

(And to be with each other you supposed)