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h3rmitsunited · 2 years ago

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Steddie one-shot (Inspired by this drawing of Eddie with some Steve induced scratches on his back) (Robin finds out something interesting about Steve and Eddie that she maybe didn't need to know so much about, but ifs her own fault for being nosy. Lol)

Tiger Stripes on Ao3

Words: 1810

The Party gets used to looking out for signs that Eddie is hurt. He doesn't like talking about it, likes to pretend things are okay, that he doesn't still get hassled when he goes to the grocery store or shoved up against the side of his van when he goes to get gas. It doesn't happen all the time, but they know it happens enough to matter. He doesnt like them to worry, so they make sure to be subtle about looking for bruises and scrapes and that wild, frantic look in his eyes he gets when something happened recently.

It wasn't enough to keep him safe, but it helped him feel a little less alone when something did happen.

And when Steve seemed to appoint himself Eddie's unofficial security guard, constantly watching, always vigilant, quick to offer a bottle of water or a bandage or ice pack, Robin wasn't surprised at all. Steve was always a bit of a mother hen and after dragging Eddie out of the Upside Down on the brink of bleeding to death, his instincts to protect and fuss seemed to hit overdrive, and Eddie was at the center of that even after his wounds had pretty much healed.

They were at Family Video on a boring and slow Wednesday morning. Steve was reshelving some movies, patently ignoring the steadily rising volume of the argument Robin and Eddie were having about some random detail of the Back to the Future movie, as it played quietly on the TV in the background. Robin is practically vibrating as the scene they were arguing over came on, and their argument went silent for a brief few seconds before Robin exploded in a victorious shout.

"Yes! See! I told you!!" Robin grinned, slapping her hand across Eddie's back, excitedly.

Eddie yelped and flinched away, the genuine pained sound ceasing Robin's victory tour in an instant. Steve looked up from the aisle, frowning.

"Shit, Eddie, sorry. Are you okay?" She hadn't slapped him that hard. It shouldn't have hurt him enough to warrant that reaction unless... he was already hurt. Eddie's expression shifted quickly to a tight casual mask and he grinned, waving a hand. He was backing up a bit, clearly uncomfortable.

"Fine, Buckley. You got some arm on you! You should really be on the drums, not tooting your little horn." He laughed brightly, shaking his head. Steve had wandered over, his lips pressed into a tight line, eyeing Eddie carefully. Robin could tell he was worried with the way he was watching him. She was too.

"You sure? We've got some ice in the back, if you need it." She tried to keep the worried tone out of her voice, knowing how it triggered Eddie's urge to deny and run. If he was actually hurt, she didn't want him moping alone at home about it.

"Yeah, good. Great. I'm fine." Eddie rubbed a hand over his neck, but she could tell from the uncomfortable way he was standing, and the fact that he wasn't wearing his trademark leather jacket, just a thin band tee today, that his back was bothering him.

Something had definitely happened.

Steve was always better at getting him to open up about this stuff, and usually by now he would have said something, but he was suspiciously quiet. Robin sent him a pointed look and he flinched, pressing his lips tighter together. She widened her eyes at him, sending a telepathic message for him to get his shit together and make Eddie confess or she was going to shave his precious hair off his big dumb head. By the huff of breath and the slight clearing of his throat, she was pretty sure at least half the message got through.

"You sure you don't want some ice, Eds? You do seem a little... sore." Steve asked, his question sounding more like an apology than an interrogation. He even winced softly at the end, like he already knew the extent of Eddie's injuries.

Robin frowned. Where was inquisitor Steve? Eddie was never going to tell them which Hawkins dickhead had beat the hell out of his back at this rate, and if he was really hurt... well, they needed to know! They were his friends! He could trust them with this stuff, and he had trusted them before, so why was this any different?

"I'm good, Steve." There was a soft warning in his tone, the barest hint of a smile followed by a slight raise of his eyebrows, and Steve seemed to back off, turning back to Robin with a shrug.

"See, he's fine. Can we go back to work?"

Robin frowned, deeper and angrier. Seriously? Steve was just giving up!?

She groaned, shaking her head. "No! Eddie, come on. I know you don't like talking about this stuff, but you're clearly in pain. What happened? Was it those basketball kids again? I thought Hopper was going to sort them out, but if they're chasing you down again, we can call him and-"

"It's not them, Buckley, relax, okay!"

Eddie and Steve seemed to realize Eddie's mistake at the same time, but it was too late.

"So, it was someone! I knew it! We're your friends, Eddie. You need to tell us what happened, so we can help you! Are you okay? What'd they do? Can we see your back? We should probably look at your back, in case you need like stitches or bandages or whatever. Are you cut? Bleeding, infected?" Robin started reached for Eddie's shirt and he backed up, putting his hands up between them, laughing awkward and nervous.

"Robin, leave him alone, okay? He said he's good." Steve reached a hand over the counter, resting it on her forearm. His expression was soft, pleading, insistent. He glanced over at Eddie, that apologetic look on his face again. Robin shook her head.

"You're saying this, Steve? You're usually the first to be on Eddie about this stuff!? He's clearly hurt and hiding it, and he knows we want to help, so just... let us help. Please. We all worry about you because we love you." She turned back to Eddie for the last sentence.

Eddie glanced at Steve, who let out a soft sigh and shrugged. Robin could recognize that there was a conversation happening like the conversations that she and Steve have, but felt like she was definitely missing half the vocabulary to know what was being said. Eddie grinned and rolled his eyes.

"Alright. But you can't say shit to anyone about this, okay?"

Robin huffed, internally cheering herself for winning this verbal battle. She rolled her eyes. "Who would I tell? You're basically my only friends."

Eddie smiled again, a mischievous little smirk and then he turned, reaching around carefully to tug up the back of his shirt.

Long red scratches covered his back like claw marks... like he'd been attacked by something. Robin's face fell and her heart started pounding, her mind instantly going to demodogs and bats and monsters, and she looked to Steve to gauge his reaction, expecting panic and urgency on his face too, but there wasn't.

He was...

Blushing.

He was looking at Eddie's back and... Blushing. And smiling, like he was...

Like... like...

Robin turned back to the marks, focusing her attention on the way they were angled, not like something had slashed at Eddie from behind, but... like something had been wrapped around his front and...

"Oh my god."

Robin felt her face burning and dropped her head into her hands. Eddie snorted and lowered his shirt back down. Steve pointedly not looking at either of them.

"Yeah, turns out your little platonic soulmate here, is a bit of a tiger in the sack. Kitty's got claws. Mrow." Eddie clawed the air, grinning.

"Oh my god, Eddie," Steve groaned and dropped his head against the counter dramatically.

Eddie snickered. "Funny, that's kind of what it soun-"

"OH MY GOD. STOP. PLEASE." Robin slapped her hands over her ears, shaking her head. "I love you both and I'm happy for you, but, oh my god! I can't believe I'm being punished for being nice and worrying about you!"

Eddie laughed, dragging her into a tight hug and pressing a loud kiss to the top of her head.

"You sure you don't want to hear all about it? You were so curious about all those nasty bruises on my neck last week."

Robin gasped in betrayal, eyes wide as she looked between the two of them. The traitors! She jabbed a finger at Steve.

"You! You fucking liar! You said you beat the guy that did that!"

Steve flushed darker red, clenching his jaw.

Eddie shook his head and tutted with a frown. "Oh, Stevie, really? Lying to your best friend? For shame."

Steve waved a hand out. "No. No no, technically I didn't lie, okay? What I told you was that I knew the guy that did that... and he'd been-" Steve swallowed, rolling his eyes at the amused anticipation on Eddie's face- "punished." He let the final word slide out like he knew it was coming, but he couldn't stop it. The embarrassed flush deepened.

Robin's eyes somehow grew wider and she let out a half-shriek, half-groan as Eddie literally collapsed to the floor in laughter.

"No. Nope." She stepped over Eddie's prone and cackling body, shaking her head. Steve straightened up, pouting like a sad embarrassed puppy. "You-" she jabbed Steve in the chest- "can finish our shift today because I need to... I don't know. Read some girl magazine or take a long bath or something." She shuddered and pinched her brow. "Don't like... do anything... in the break room..."

She rolled her eyes at Eddie who had shuffled up on the floor and was peeking over the counter, only his head up to his collar showing. She pointed at him, glaring.

"I mean it, Munson. I use that couch."

"Rob, look, I-"

Robin cut off Steve shaking her head. "Whatever you're going to try to apologize for, dingus, save it. I'm not mad... I'm happy you two figured your shit out, but I really do not need the... details or what you're getting up to and I need to scrub the image of- "she waved a hand at Eddie- "your animal attack out of my brain, 'kay?"

Steve seemed relieved and still embarrassed, which Robin could live with. They could do with a little bit of lighthearted shame. From the proud look on Eddie's face, he might need a little bit more, but she'd let them have their fun... for now. Hopefully, not too much...

She clocked out, giving them one more pointed glare before heading out and keeping her thoughts away from that weird stain she'd noticed appear on the couch cushion last month.

Ugh. Boys.

#steddie #steve harrington #eddie munson #robin buckley #secret relationship #stranger things #fanfic #writing

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theepisceswriter · 4 years ago

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Jealous!Reader with AOT characters pt.2 (Porco, Bertholdt, Pieck, Zeke)

A/N: y’all really liked the first one I made here, so here’s a pt.2 with different characters

TW: none really apply, sort of suggestive for Zeke, Modern AU, GN!reader

PORCO GALLIARD

I am a firm believer that in a modern AU, Porco and Reiner would be the type of people to go to sport restaurants like Hooters, Buffalo Wild Wings, or Twin Peaks. They give me that macho man type of vibe. Of course though, Porco would make you tag along with him almost every time he went. He feels that it’s a very nice way for the two of you to bond. Which honestly it is.

You have a deep sense of security within yourself and enough trust in Porco to not be bothered by the waitresses there, as you should, knowing that it’s only their job to be enticing like that. Hell, you even enjoy it when the waitresses would flirt with you sometimes or you’d get the really pretty ones who look like they’re straight off of a magazine. Not to mention that you visit places like this often, so most of them know you and know that you and Porco are in a relationship together.

They all respect your boundaries and don’t try to push at them at all.....until this one waitress comes around. You can quite obviously tell that her flirting is different from the “trained” flirting that the other girls often do. She lingers at your table a little longer than she should be trying to talk to Porco to the point where other waitresses have to tell her to go check on other tables and she’s disregarding you completely, asking Porco questions that should be aimed at you and being very rude in general.

Porco is hardly paying her any mind, too focused on the game to really pay attention to what’s going on, but any piece of attention he gives to her she latches on too it. But still, you remain cordial and calm on the inside. Not wanting to come off as one of those significant others and cause a scene that doesn’t need to be caused. If someone looked at you for too long they might notice an eye twitch or two coming from you.

Really it’s Porco’s hand holding underneath the table that’s keeping you sane and reminding you of how secure your position in your relationship is. You almost calm down entirely, but of course the waitress has to come back and try desperately to get his attention again. At one point he zones out into the game and to try and get his attention she attempts to tap him on his shoulder.

Strong on the attempt because you grabbed her wrist before she could even brush her fingers against his shirt and gave her a stern “Aht! Aht! That is not going to be happening tonight and definitely not in front of me.”

And Porco, this menace to society, finally speaks up like, “I was wondering when you were finally going to say something. I was getting afraid that I didn’t mean anything to you anymore.” He would’ve eventually intervened himself though if she was actually successful in touching him.

The waitress gets the hint for the rest of the night, but just incase she doesn’t he holds you close to his side with his arm draped over your shoulders.

BERTHOLDT HOOVER

Despite his soft spoken nature and personality that sometimes falls on the shy part of the spectrum, Bertholdt is actually an easy person to come up to and start a conversation with. Of course, you have to be the one to start the conversation, but after that it’s like he can’t shut up, likes he’s compelled to answer back to everything and keep a conversation going.

It’s a trait of his that you’ve come to love, but also come to hate on days when you’re out in public with him and can just see the twinkle in a girl’s eyes when she’s getting ready to come over to him to flirt. It’s usually in awkward situations too like when you’re out shopping and he’s standing off to the side because he has no business looking at what you’re shopping for, so the fact that he’s kind of alienated from you and doesn’t know how to respond to flirting all that well in the first place really has him in an awkward chokehold.

He’ll get asked for his number and instead of saying flat out no, because he doesn’t want to be harsh, he struggles to let words out at all as he tries to think of what to say. And people really prey on his shyness and don’t even give him the chance to respond before they’re forcing themselves on him more, handing their phone out to him just waiting to input a number.

Imagine the shock and anger on your face when you turn around from your shopping happy ready to show Bertholdt what you got and instead you see a girl trying to get his number! You’re over there in an instant, legs carrying you as fast as they can and a scold on your face as you go over there and the first thing you do is push that phone as far away from him as you can.

“I know my BOYFRIEND and something tells me that he is not interested in the direction this conversation is going with you whatsoever, so I suggest you leave him alone before I make you 😤” The girl leaves like immediately after that.

Bert is just behind you the whole time with a ☺️ look on his face like “Yes, that is indeed my significant other!” Which is so funny because he’s like 6’3 and towering over you, but you’re the feisty one!

He does feel kinda guilty for not cutting off the interaction before it got that far, so he wraps his arms around you and nuzzle his face into your neck all like, “I’m sorry baby 🥺🥺 you know I don’t like anyone else but you 🥺🥺 I was trying to tell them no thank you but it wouldn’t come out 🥺🥺”

You couldn’t stay mad at him even if you wanted to, that’s all it takes for you to forget about it altogether.

PIECK FINGER

It’s almost impossible to see someone as fine looking as Pieck and not shoot your shot. If I saw Pieck out in public the first thing I would do is shoot my shot.

It happens allll the time whenever you two go out. Out at the mall shopping for clothes? Someone’s going to come up to you two and try to hit on Pieck. At the club minding each other’s business and trying to have a good time? Some guy is going to come over and try to ruin that for you too.

At first it was like a bragging rights thing for you. Everyone noticed your hot girlfriend was hot but you were the one who went home to her everyday and not them, but at some point it switched from a bragging right to down right annoying. It’s like you can’t leave her alone for more than a couple of seconds because here comes someone breathing down her neck being a weirdo!

Poor Pieck doesn’t even know what’s going on half of the time because she be baked out of her mind, thinking about nothing but how some ruffles and ice cream can really hit right now. So she’s just going along with the conversation like “mhm, yeah ☺️” every ten seconds hoping that they’d get the hint that she’s not thinking about them at all and to leave her alone. But, of course, they don’t.

Her body language becomes stressed out and agitated, not knowing what to do because you’re in the gas station buying snacks for the two of you while she’s far away at the gas pumps doing her best to get an ending with this weirdo where they don’t kidnap her.

Luckily, just on time you exit out the gas station and even before you get any closer to Pieck you’re already pissed off at the fact that someone is probably hitting on her, but after you see her do that awkward little shuffle with her feet signifying that she’s uncomfortable? You’re over there in a heartbeat.

See, maybe you would’ve been a bit nicer if her body language didn’t tell you that they had been pestering her for a while despite how everything about her screamed ‘not interested.’

So what do you do? You take the bottle of sprite you bought and bop them on the head with it. Head empty no thoughts just ‘protect my stoner girlfriend.’

Pieck is so messy too, she’s in the background like “Ohhhhh shit *giggle* fight! Fight! Fight!” You were ready to rumble too, but if you were so ready to hit them in the head with a sprite bottle the other person definitely didn’t want to know what else you were confident with doing. So they recuperated from their sprite bottle hit and went running to their car.

This was a proud girlfriend moment for Pieck the whole drive home. She could not stop talking about how much of a badass you were and how she loved that you would do anything for her.

ZEKE JAEGER

I wrote soft Zeke already, so now it’s time for me to give y’all the menace Zeke y’all have been waiting for.

Zeke is the type of significant other who’s big on teasing and messing with his partner is general. There’s something about seeing them all flustered after he does something to embarrass them, like fake propose to them in public or something, that really cracks him up. That being said, he’s not opposed to flirting with someone in front of you to get you riled up and see your reaction.

Let’s set the scene; He drags you to Sam Ash with him, because we’ve all just collectively decided that modern day Zeke is a music pretentious asshole, to go get something for his guitar or at least that’s what you assume he was complaining about. You weren’t even listening, just excited to go and mess with the drums and guitars there. It’s the first thing you do once you get there and Zeke sees this as his opportunity to finally mess with you.

He goes over to the drum set display you’re playing on and calls over and employee with “inquiries” about the set you’re playing on. He pretends to ask a few genuine questions at first but eventually he’s able to get the conversation to shift to something a little more personal. Which isn’t terrible, but once he starts throwing out lines like “Oh you like (said band)? I’ve always found myself gravitating towards people who like them. They’re always the most attractive people, I’ve found 😏.” Is when you start getting agitated.

You’re just trying to play We Will Rock You on the drums and here he goes killing your vibe immensely. And it’s hard to ignore when they’re standing right on the side of you. Not to mention how the employee is eating all of this up, blushing and all. It’s at the first mention of numbers being exchanged that you’ve decided you’ve had enough. Without a word to Zeke you get up and storm out of the store.

Was this a dick move on his end? Absolutely, but you’re a couple who’s relationship is filled with debating and bickering, bickering especially, so part of him thought you would play along with his little game and be like “Whatever. I don’t care.” But instead, you were genuinely upset. You didn’t even know where you were going but you were going somewhere. And that somewhere was the outside of the Sam Ash store because you realized you really didn’t have a choice.

Sorry guys, but I have to switch over to soft Zeke now.

He comes running after you, “y/n! Y/n it was a joke!” But that just makes you even more mad and oops, a year drops down your face and he feels terrible.

Kisses all over your face, words of assurance spilling out his lips, and a tight ass beat hug.

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry. I’m such a dick I know. I didn’t mean to make you this upset though.” He would get down on his knees if he had to!

I guess you can forgive him just this once, but only on the terms that you get Sub!Zeke tonight and get to act as a pillow princess/prince cause he has a lot of making up to do.

#sorry if there are any typos i was kinda rushing #aot x reader #attack on titan x reader #porco galliard x reader #bertholdt hoover x reader #pieck finger x reader #zeke yeager x reader #zeke jaeger x reader #aot imagines

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hannahgoldfish · 4 years ago

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Ketterdam Alleys.

Platonic! Kaz Brekker x Reader Platonic! Jesper Fahey x Reader

A/N: This imagine is a little dark so read if you feel comfortable! Requested by @vinyldoves ♥️

Warnings: Explicit Language, Violence, Injury and Brekker being Brekker!

Description: You find yourself in some pretty bad trouble and injured. Luckily for you, some Crows seem to have your back!

———

It was getting late. The sun had long dipped beneath the horizon, the moon had risen and stars glistened like diamonds, high up in the sky. Your patrol of fifth harbour was coming to an end and the idea of submerging yourself up into your duvet was coming increasingly more desirable. You smiled at the thought.

Your footsteps echoed against the uneven cobbles of the Ketterdam alley. Normally this alley would be more crowded but no one seemed to be there tonight. Not even the drunk. Something felt different. Something felt wrong. The drum of your heart started to beat slightly quicker, so your grip lingered on the knife that was hidden in your pocket. A small reassurance. Perhaps you should of taken the more lit route to the slat. But no, always up for a little bit of adrenaline. Maybe that was why Kaz saw you had potential. Not afraid to put up a fight.

You shivered slightly, pushing all thoughts out of your head and pulling your long coat closer, surrounding yourself in the warmth. Your breath dancing and crystallising with the air.

A sudden chill crawled up your spine, causing you to tense. A glass bottle ringing as it rolled off of each cobblestone slap slowly, until it reached your boot.

You paused.

“Who’s there?” You shouted, your voice heavy, trying to sound intimidating just like Kaz had taught you. No response.

“Fuck sake.” You muttered. Annoyed that a rolling bottle made your fingers tremble. This is what Ketterdam does to you. Stay here long enough and every single action can be classed as a threat. How pathetic.

Then it all happened fast. Too fast to register what was even happening. The next thing you knew was your head colliding hard to a stone wall. You slumped down to the ground, your vision a mix of strange blurs and a warm liquid trickling down your head.

Two figures joined together from the blurs of your vision like a puzzle. All wearing black, all sharing the same smirk on their lips. And if you squinted hard enough, you could make out a faint outline of a tattoo, a cat curled into a crown on one mans arm. Bloody Dime Lions.

“Evening Fellas.” Your tone sarcastic. “I feel like two on one isn’t very fair of you.” The man laughed, the other stalked closer behind in your peripheral vision. That was the least of your concern, your head was throbbing.

“We were hoping a lost crow such as yourself would fall in our trap.”

“Well, it’s hardly a trap and I didn’t fall in it.”

Both men stared at each other, clearly not amused. And when they turned, their eyes like bitter ice; cold and dangerous. Your heart sank slightly, your stomach becoming a bundle of nerves.

“We are taking you to Pekka Rollins.” That one name made your blood boil and your heartbeat quicken. You needed to get out of this situation. “Oh I don’t think so.” You said, pulling yourself back up. Ignoring the spinning bodies. But a boot was met with your stomach and you tumbled back to the familiar ground. You grunted, your breath flowing unevenly. Saints that hurt.

“Pick her up.” The black haired man said to the other, the newly lit cigar lit up his face, revealing a long scar running across his cheek. He gave a short nod before striding to you.

Immediately, you scrambled for the knife in your pocket. The man yanked on your coat, hoisting you to your feet. His grip tight and your knife slid out of your grasp, clattering to the floor.

“Excuse me gentlemen.” A familiar voice said. “But I think that is highly illegal.” Your eyes darted to his face, his curly black hair stopped just above his eye and a smirk tugged across his face. A twist of his pistols. “But yet again, so is this.” He pulled the trigger. And the man holding you staggered, falling to the floor. His eyes glassy. Dots of blood on his face. The other man stood stunned. “Hello there.” Said a gravelly voice and immediately you could tell who it was. The man turned but was greeted with a crow head cane. He yelped before hitting the ground like a sack of bricks. You couldn’t help but smile slightly.“What an entrance!” Jesper clapped to himself. “Well done boss, gruesome as always.” Kaz just frowned, his head turning to you. “Can you stand?”

“Well… perhaps.” You said as Jesper helped you up, letting you lean on him for support. “Thank you guys.” Jespers smile beamed. “Of course, love.”

“Crows protect their own.” Said Kaz, wiping the head of his cane with a bit of cloth. “Now, let’s get back to the slat.”

You nodded, trying to send your smile to Kaz, however he just dismissed it and began marching in front, alerting all of Ketterdam with his presence. People’s eyes lifted to the sound of his cane thumping against the ground but soon darted away. Some people even hid in the shadows, hoping that the dark would make them invisible and the Bastard of the Barrel wouldn’t come for them. You are convinced that Kaz was enjoying this moment. The mans damn ego.

And as for you and Jesper, well, you both stumbled behind. Jesper waving to a few passers by -what an idiot. You sighed, happy that the slat would soon be in view and you could be back in your bed.

“Y/n, can you explain to me exactly why you were walking back to the slat in one of the most dangerous alleyways in Ketterdam?” His voice flat, you found yourself go quiet, unsure of what to say.

“Well… why were you in one of the most dangerous alleys in Ketterdam?” You shot back hoping to not sounds like a fool. Kaz stiffened slightly, meeting your gaze before turning back and striding a faster pace. “Ouch.” Said Jesper. You whacked his arm.

“You know, he went out looking for you.” Jesper smiled. “He was worried about you.” Your brows furrowed. “Worried?” Dirtyhands being anxious was definitely new. “So, why were you in a scary alley anyway?”

“It’s a faster route to the slat.” And with that, the sharpshooter let out a chuckle.

#leigh bardugo #girshaverse #grisha triumvirate #grishaverse imagines #kaz brekker #kaz brekker x y/n #soc jesper #jesper fahey #six of crows #shadow and bone #crooked kingdom #ketterdam #imagines #kaz and jesper #soc kaz

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sly-merlin · 4 years ago

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KILLING ME - 12 |n.y

pairing : law student!reader + yuta

genre : angst , mafia au/ arranged marriage au.

warnings of this chapter : mentions of blood and brutality. For future chapters, major character death(s).

words :

summary : “life’s never fair y/n. realise it as soon as you can . it is the only secret for living a regretless life.”

“ curiousity got the cat hitched”

K.M masterlist

A/n : this was supposed to be a longer chapter. The Tumblr was bring problematic since three days. This is not how the chapter was supposed to end but i couldn't post anything longer than this so i had to make changes to end it on a surprise tone like other chapters. I hope you still enjoy it.

Was he asking for too much?

His unsteady hand rose and fell, internal monologue stopping him from knocking on the door. Johnny wasn't sure how he even ended up outside taeyong's door. One second he was fighting with his thoughts and the next second he found himself jumping out of his car, almost ready to confront the person behind the door.

He took a deep breath and was about to drum the wood when the door opened from inside, taeyong's sleepy figure greeting him instantly.

"John. Why are you here so late? Do you need something?" from red pressed strikes on taeyong’s face, anyone would have guessed that he had been sleeping.

“Johnny! I’m talking to you.” he waved his hand in front of johnny’s distracted eyes.

“Huh”

“Do you want something?”

“y/n.”

Your life was back on the wagon. Not truly but with a few exceptions here and there, it certainly felt like the old days. You were in chois on weekdays and took tuitions on the weekends. You met your friends while visiting the library and everything felt quite normal. Even with a few oddities, that being the five day training sessions with Jungwoo, some new people in your life, a residence that you felt happy coming back to, absence of someone that you’d never grown a liking for, everything was smooth. Just like before. The only thing you missed was some time. Time for yourself. Though you lived alone, which was a luxury nearing its end, you barely got a few minutes alone with your mind and that was something you craved more than the drink shoved in your hand at the moment.

You loved your friends, without any doubt, but they lived with the bad habit of disregarding your feelings, feelings that said you would be anywhere but the restaurant you were sitting in.

“y/n is going into hibernation again.” minjun’s voice broke your trance.

“What did you say?" You challenged him but he cowered in his seat and turned his focus on the soggy french fries instead. When he silenced, yugyeom spoke up,

“Yo y/n. Don’t scare the child. Just drink away your sorrows. The wine is quite expensive here. If you are making me pay then at least make it worth it."

Suddenly, Jungkook's loud snorting caught everyone's attention as they all quietened, waiting for him to reveal the reasons for his action. Swirling his burgundy glass, he chugged the last bit of the drink before leaning backwards in his chair, relaxing himself.

"Now what's the drama with You" Yeong grumbled, clearly intoxicated.

"She's already hammered" minjun giggled.

"When are you going to invite us to your house y/n?" Jungkook chimed in, a smirk plastered on his blushed face.

"Oh yes. Ms. Lawyer no more l-lives i-in the d-dorms." Yeong hiccupped, losing the grip on the bottle of soju. Yugyeom chuckled at her antics before snatching the bottle away to avoid any fuss.

"I also meant to ask you but you are never available for more than an hour or so. Are you doing alright" gyeom shifted his chair towards you while keeping a hand on his girlfriend's back.

You didn't know how to reply or what to trump up so they'd stop pestering you. However, you had no other choice than to continue with the streak you had started a few months ago.

"Of course i want to have you there but my roommate is very, how to explain, very bitchy. He got this corporate job and he-he works from home so I'm supposed to pretend like I do not exist and keep quiet. That includes no outsiders as well. It's gonna be like this for a few months i guess"

You mumbled the last part.

You averted your eyes but didn't mean you could've escaped their intense judgemental gaze. You repeated the whole lie that you recited to arrange it in the box of deceit that you were filling since the commencement of these stories. Forgetting any of these would mean shattering their trust. And that was exactly what you were supposed to protect.

Once reiterated, you gathered how foolish the sentence was. Had it been said to you, there wasn't a chance of putting your belief in it. But your company was drunk enough to believe it; two of them were enough to carry the whole table.

"Wow. How horrible of him. We should take y/n with us yugy. She'd be happy and she can invite anyone." Yeong low-key let out a little drunk growl to press her point.

Yugyeom cooed at her before replying,

"And where will you live? Our apartment has only two rooms and both are occupied. Where do you plan to settle down instead?"

His question made her think harder than she ever had in life as she picked at her jutted out lower lip.

"Laundry room. You and me, will live in the laundry room because y/n needs a nice home."

"I already have a nice home yeongie." You took the opportunity, got up and reached out to pinch her cheeks, "but you won't know unless you are sober. Take her home, yugy. I'm also sleepy so I'll get going. See you on Tuesday."

" It's already 11. Let me drop you home." Jungkook suggested, startling you.

"No It-

"Yeah you drop her. I'll take Yeong and minjun home but help me in carrying their asses to the car please." Yugyeom pleaded. He left the bills on the table and took Yeong in his arms. You expected jungkook to do the same but he passed minjun your shoulders instead,

"Wait for me outside. I have to call someone first." and he walked away, his lover grinning on your shoulder like it was the funniest thing in the world but you were fine as long as their drunken state saved you from some heavy confrontation. The only person left was jungkook and you had the perfect idea to dodge him as well.

"So the same place or are you staying in the dorms this weekend?" He asked, driving out of the busy street.

"Just drop me at the nearest bus station. I'll ta-

"Nakamoto residence or the dorms y/n" you almost choked on the air as the word left his lips. Taking a bus home had seemed like the perfect plan but you had overvalued your common sense. Again.

"What are you talking about?" With hesitation evident in your voice, you muttered.

"Do you really think you'd go to a random house in front of me that I know nothing about and you'd be left alone without questions. I was there until the door was opened by someone. You really thought I'd have left you with a stranger. But i knew something was fishy when the receptionist told me that it's a home sweet home of Mr and Mrs nakamoto. Now spill before I get yugyeom to ask in his own way." He shifted the gears in frustration, your relaxed persona bothering him to no end. Getting jungkook wokred up wasn't a grunt work. He was like a matchstick, always ready to be ignited by any possible frictional surface.

"It's not what you are thin-

"Don't lie please," he started, words dangerously polite, "If he's your boyfriend then there's no need to hide y/n. We would always be there to support you. When, how, why, i don't want you to feel pressured to answer me. Just because you go around with no commitment tag doesn't mean we'd judge you if you ever got in a relationship. We love you. Make us part of your life like we do. Can't we just expect that much."

You gulped at how disappointed he sounded. He was right. You needed to include them in your life adventures but how were you supposed to explain him the riots you were dealing with. How were you supposed to spill everything without him getting his sword out. That would only lead to more troubles than you had the power to deal with. Trouble for you, him and for everyone who'd be passed that secrecy.

So you begged, for some more time until you'd be more than comfortable to let all of them into your present life.

Like every other word, this was also a lie that, in the first place, you never chose to proceed with.

He might have give in to you, but you knew eventually you'd have to muster up the courage to answer him and that day would decide another turn of your future.

And you would make sure, inter alia, to shift the wheels in a more likeable direction.

“Use your fists!”

Jungwoo’s grip was strong. His one arm was holding your waist and the other was around your neck. It was painful but you knew he wasn’t going to let go easily this time. This was the third consecutive scuffle or demo fight with him within the span of the last forty five minutes and having lost the last two, awfully at that, expectation of some mercy was not very demanding on your part. But only if he would grant that! You heard his chuckle as you wriggled in his hold. He was clearly having a lot more fun than you were. There was no way you could’ve applied renjun and hyuck’s advice but you still tried to follow their vague instructions.

“Bit his arm and turn.”

“No, don’t. Turn around and hit his torso with your knees.”

Bit him?

Halting your movements, a low grunt left your lips as you lowered your body and pressed your teeth on his flesh. He screeched and immediately retracted his arm. Taking advantage of his loosened grip on your waist, you whirled around and raised your knee to strike at his upper body. In an instant, your hands fell on your knees and you inhaled a harsh breath, regaining your strength. Jungwoo, on the other hand, was curled up on the floor like a baby. You wanted to laugh at him but the more astonishing thing was the lack of any noise from your cheerleaders. Right from the start, they were rooting for you like you were earning them some hard cash and now that you had done exactly what they had wanted, they were silent.

“Wha-

you opened your mouth to speak but their lack of attention held you back. Their eyes were fixed at Jungwoo,who still laid where he had landed.

“What did you do?” renjun shrieked.

“Exactly what you told me to!” you replied with heavy breathing.

“We said torso!”

“Yes and i hi-

Mechanically your hand slapped your face as you noticed the position of jungwoo’s hands. You had, mistakenly, kicked him in the groin which only meant more trouble for you.

“Save me.” you mouthed to hyuck and renjun while approaching jungwoo.

“Sorry teacher.” you mumbled.

He remained quiet for a few seconds and didn’t make any movement. When he did, you took a few steps back, afraid of his wrath. Palms down on the mat, he sat up and with painfully quiet voice spoke up,

“Looks like you won. Good j-job. I think i need to visit the medical room. You can go and celebrate.”

“Does it pain too much�� pointing to his crotch and averting your eyes, you asked.

“No. not at all but i might need to adopt your kids someday. You know if i can’t make my own.”

“Sorry” you cried.

“Dismissed.” his civil tone, probably due to the ache, glued you in the position.

When you didn't move, donghyuck came, took you by your arm and guided you for the door.

"He's just being dramatic. Just chill. Another hit and he'd be good to go." He giggled and was soon joined by renjun as well, who was now crouching down in front of jungwoo.

"You sure?"

"If he doesn't then you can always give him your baby. Ofcourse after asking your husband." Only after he rambled, he realised what he had actually said. His face screamed surprise. To save him from spiralling into deep shame, you eased him by cutting off his apology,

"Ew hyuck. Give him one of yours if you want. Don't come for mine!" And you exited the door.

You were halfway through the basement when you realised the lack of your device. Running back, you were about to shout when you overheard their gossip.

"No, I'm telling you she meant to injure me so i won't teach her anymore or this might be the revenge of all the weapon training. Her knee is stronger than jeno's punch. Don't laugh at me you shits."

Jungwoo was whining.

"Haha. Yeah ok. But i told you renjun, she's physically stronger than her. Kind of totally opposite." Hyuck's voice quietened at the end but before he could speak further, you interrupted,

"Like who hyuck?"

Their faces went blank at your question and the reason of sudden heaviness in the air was beyond your contemplation.

"You don't want to answer? Fine. Maybe it's not my place to question." You simply stated before circling the mat to pick up your phone from the chair.

"No. It's not li-

"It's fine hyuck. Chill." You shrugged and walked away, deciding against pestering them for information that they clearly felt too uncomfortable to share.

"You need a fucking lock on your bloody mouth." was the last thing you heard before they were out of your hearing.

What was the need to ask something when you knew you won't ever get an answer out of them. Everyone was beyond friendly with you but still, there were some borders that nobody dared to cross. Maybe the mention of that woman was one of them. Fear of some unknown ghost of embarrassment was swallowing you whole when you heard grunts. Loud ones. You were still in the basement, the scuffle center being at the far end. The stairs were in front of you. The snarls and growls were coming from the other end of the basement. The election wasn't hard and you didn't want to give in to your curiosity but you did. Your feet, not cooperating with the voice in the back of your head that told you to turn away, took you ahead in the direction of the noise. Though the residence consisted of only one plot but the basement covered two. Unknown to everyone, the house next to B.N was also their property and it was only utilised for the underground space. Hence the never ending lane and the countless closed metal doors.

The echo got louder with each step you took. It’s been more than a month since you were visiting the basement but those noises had never crossed through you until today. The end doors were forbidden for you, according to what you were told but now that you were exposed to it, there was no chance of ignoring. No prudent person would ever overlook such a thing. That was the justification you were repeating as you took baby steps.

All the doors were closed except one at the very far end. You thought about peaking inside then halted as if your conscious called you. The whimpers also stopped for a minute or so but your heart skipped a few beats when a collision following with painful shriek reverberated in the empty space. The door, slightly ajar, was just a few strides away but you were too startled to even back away from your position. Same pattern of hit and shouts continued again. Unaware of the happenings, you stood there as If you were waiting for someone to separate you from the concrete beneath your feet.

Adding to your distress, the metal door opened abruptly and you realised, you were again at a place where you weren't meant to be.

"What are you doing here?" Jaehyun's growl broke you out of the unconscious state you had fell into. Mechanically, you eyes roamed across him to notice a body lying on the table inside the room, strained cries escaping his lips. The limp body was enough to put two and two together to conclude that he was being tortured. He was a victim of jaehyun's wrath.

"I asked what ar-

"Y/N!" he picked up his hand to touch your shoulders but you distanced yourself when you noticed the stains covering his clothing and hands, the blood red prominently visible even under the low light.

His gaze caught yours in time and his eyes softened noticing the fear in your body.

Very slowly, he reached out for you but immediately stopped, taking a note of your quivering lip.

"Hey. It-its not blood. I ca-can explai- Y/N!"

The yells of your name covered the whole arena as you rushed away, leaving a dazed jaehyun behind.

"Who was it jae?"

Jaehyun saw your trembling figure diminishing while you ran away from him as if you were disgusted by him. Not that he expected any other reaction, some good time has passed since someone innocent had came across their work. To say the least, it was never pleasant to have someone witness their harsh manners.

"JAE!"

"Y/n. She saw the body and also the blood."

He mumbled to ten whose visage, upon hearing, instantly mirrored jaehyun's.

"What about him?" Ten pointed to the man, "he's not speaking shit"

"Finish him off if you want. I need to handle something else now"

You raced as fast as you could have. You had never thought of yourself as a weak person but the sight was gruesome to just disregard and walk off. With shaking legs, you finally made it upstairs but the ringing, only became more earsplitting. Your hand harshly rubbed at your chest as you tried to defuse the tension bubbling in your whole body. After what felt like minutes, you covered your ears as if it would stop the ringing. It certainly did not but surprisingly it was muffled. You removed your hands and the blaring returned again. But this time, you laboured yourself to look into your surroundings. You saw chenle, jisung, jaemin running back and forth from the kitchen while doyoung seemed to be scolding jeno for something. Few others were also there, cleaning the couches and spraying some fragrance in the air. Everyone seemed to be their own turmoil, origin was which was yet to be known.

That's when it hit you. Maybe your ears weren't booming due to fright.

"Chenle"you screamed at the passing boy, "do you hear this sound?" You pointed your fingers in the air to exaggerate your point. He merely nodded before he went past you and the very next second the noise was reduced to mere buzzing. You inhaled sharply to regulate your heartbeat but failed due to the ruckus that enclosed you. Suddenly jaemin emerged,

"Why are you so disheveled? Go and change from these workout clothes. Uncle is outside. Didn't you hear the alarm." Only Half of his words entered your head and before you could come to your senses, you were interrupted again.

"Y/n my girl!" Whipping your head, you saw a familiar figure entering the threshold.

An old man that you surely had seen somewhere.

His voice was a lot stronger than his aged body which he was dragging along with the help of a walking stick.

Jaemin nudged you to greet him and you complied as soon as could have in your current state. Only when you got closer, you realised he was the same man you had met in the office celebration. You haven't seen him since then but he looked significantly weaker than before. Even with dark circles present, his face still was still shining with the smile he wore as he staggered inside.

"How's life treating you my kid" he asked, patting the empty space on the couch. You took the seat and replied in a small voice,

"I'm good. Everything is nice."

"Why am I smelling Jasmines this late in the evening?" He sniffed the air and galred at doyoung, " Do you take me for a fool? One thing! Cleaning. that is the only thing i ask of you. There are- how many of you are present since the morning. Answer me doyoung."

The man barked and doyoung muttered a sheepish apology, his head dropping with shame.

"Each one of you is nonsense. If you'd just clean up your stink once in a while, you'd save your money on the thousands of spray bottles you buy every month. But you thick heads only know how to shoot and punch. Now get me a glass of water before i die of this fake flowery smell"

He shouted like he owned the place and Maybe he did. Your mind and heart were not aligned up to comprehend the simple scenario that took place before you, the dizziness coming and going with intervals.

Then you were called again.

Looking at your right, your saw jaehyun standing, his face ridden of any colour.

You noticed his new shirt. There was no blood on it. His hands were also cleaned and you were stunned at how quickly your eyes were running on his body to find any trace of what you saw in the basement a few minutes ago.

"y/n, i need to talk to you"

For the first time, jaehyun's words were directed towards you without any poison in them.

You still didn't wish to face him so you moved yourself to face the old man.

"Y/n ple-

"Now you don't even greet your own father jung jaehyun."

He spoke with a steadier and louder voice that felt like it was only meant for jaehyun. The contrast in his tone was striking.

He was jaehyun's father.

"Sorry dad. I have something imp-

"I called you in the morning to inform yuta and taeil and yet i do not see anyone here. Do i need to die for you to respect me!"

You couldn't believe your ears when jaehyun answered in shuddering tone.

"Yu-yuta is not here."

He sounded like a child responding to his teacher, scared of some evaluation.

"Then call him."

"I mean he's away on business dad."

"Civil?"

It was like hearing Morse code.

"No."

"You sent him on a target place?"

"No. He's in Nice to collect information."

"Wow. Can you please clap your back for breaking the only sacred rule this family lives by?"

The silence in the extremely large living room was suffocating. This time, except you, everyone else was scared. And it still wasn't of any help.

"How dare you send a family man away on anything remotely dangerous. I thought you all were careful after taeil's incident but no. Nobody cares enough t-

Before he could complete, shaky coughs engulfed his body. Somehow, jaehyun grabbed him the moment he was about to fall from the couch. Doyoung ran for the kitchen while xiaojun, who was always too swift in his movements, came to the living room with a medical box.

You weren't sure what was happening with him or why he was being treated like some high mighty force or why he was so adamant on bringing yuta back but you could only pray that his wish won't be granted.

You weren't cruel but you were sure he'd be able to survive without that piece of shit roaming around.

You couldn't lose the few weeks you had without him.

Taeyong hands clutched yours like his life depended on you.

"Please please please y/n. It's been over a month since he's gone. I never withdraw from a deal. But this is an emergency. Uncle doesn't know you both were forced. He is a soft and weak hearted man. We cannot afford to tell him anything like this and clearly this would be seen as a betrayal to him. You both are nothing like what he's told but he doesn't need to need. He's the only father figure we have. Please just this time. I promise I won't ask anything from you after this. You do not need to live with him. he'd be here until two months are over. Please."

You lifted your brow at his last sentence and liberated your hands from his, feeling his trembling fingers.

"I don't see the need to lie anymore, taeyong. You can tell him the truth and be over with it. If he has jaehyun as a son, he must be used to hearing blatant lies. This won't be the only one, I'm sure of that." Crossing your arms, you coldly said.

"I know you hate me but please y/n. You know how it is to lose the only family member you have. We have no one besides him. Never had anyone before him. The least we can do is keep him happy until it's too late. Please. Just this time."

Gobbling down each word, you merely nodded at him. If it weren't for his glossy eyes, you'd have threw up on him right after the first pleading but you weren't heartless like him. He was right. You knew how it felt to lose your loved ones, a fate you would never wish upon anyone. Not even the person you despised the most.

"Thank you. I owe you this one kiddo." He hugged you and you pushed him away.

"Let me call him."

"Yuta!"

"Hmm"

"You need to come back immediately "

Taeyong spoke with urgency.

"Nope. I still have Three weeks and two days left." You heard his non-chalant words through the speaker.

"Yuta it's abou-

"Sorry I'm busy with my french girls. Call you later and please forget to take care of yourself."

And he hung up.

A smirk formed on your face watching the grim expressions of taeyong.

"Good luck convincing him and while you are going to explain him the difference between the French girls and the French monkeys he has mistaken as women, why don't you explain me what exactly jaehyun does in that other end of the basement. I love some good stories, taeyong. So let's hear how good of a storyteller are you!"

taglist :: @kpop-choco @moon-yuta @kawaiiayasan @btm-taeyong @exfolitae @lanadreamie @cheersskznct @hyuckiesgf @theworld-accordingtocasey @yiyi4657 @sorrywonwoo @sillywinnergladiator @minejungwoo @leesalts @mal-nakamoto23 @ro2424 @itlittlefangirl @nctzens-world @bl--ankhaeji @simplybree @ncttboo @jeaneteflo @nuoyii @/bralessmermaid

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pollenat · 4 years ago

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RED VELVET and 5 ways to say I love you

➛ Note: Non-verbal, mind you.

IRENE

Her hand automatically reaching for a lost strand of hair you haven’t noticed yet. The fingertips feel so soft on your skin, you want to grab her fingers and kiss the top of each one. But these are just thoughts. In reality you freeze, struggling with the fast rhythm of your beating heart. Joohyun smiles softly, quickly going back to whatever it was she was busy with before.

The drastic change in her behavior when your hands pull her hips close to yours. As much as you want to lead her, you turn weak upon looking into her beautiful eyes. Joohyun’s smile melts away, letting something dangerous take place. You cannot pinpoint exactly what it is, but the sight makes your thighs tingle.

Waking up in the middle of the night. Joohyun rarely embraces you when asleep, but at that moment her hands are painfully tight around your torso. In fact, she’s so strong you can’t turn around to check her face for any sign of discomfort. All you can do is remain still, and wait for her to either speak or loosen the grip.

Turning on your phone after it’s completely charged, only to yelp in surprise at the amount of missed calls. All from Joohyun. With a bad feeling, you dial her back. She doesn’t leave you waiting for long. “Why didn’t you pick up your phone? I was worried sick!” You have to pull the phone away from your ear. Joohyun is nagging you like crazy, but you know that she just cares a lot.

The feeling of water washing over your back, as you reach for a bottle of shower gel. But instead of finding the one that Joohyun is so religious about, you pull out the one you’re used to. The realization makes you take a double look at the small shower shelf. You’re 100% sure the owner of the bathroom you’re currently using is your girlfriend, not you. Was it Joohyun’s subtle way of telling you something, or was it just her caring nature that put the bottle on her shopping list?

SEULGI

Watching her throw herself face down on the spot next to yours. As soon as she turns to show you the tired smile, you’re stunned by the sheer happiness of seeing her. “What? Do I have something on my face?” Instead of answering, you extract a giggle out of her with a tight hug. “You’re going to choke me!” but you know she’s enjoying it just as much.

The plate of french toasts she went out of her way for. It’s a welcome surprise, but it also makes you feel bad. Seulgi waves away any words coming out of your mouth, her shy smile directed at the plate as she awaits the first bite. “Do you like it?” her mouth widens much more when you nod your head yes.

Blaming yourself for ruining her day when it ends with her hand pressing a bag of frozen pees to your forehead. You were supposed to to go out, have fun at a trendy place. Instead, your head collided with a corner of a cupboard you didn’t notice. “It’s okay! Stop frowning.” she gently pats your cheek with her hand. Seulgi’s smile is honest, but you can’t stop the feeling of distaste you have for yourself.

The metal cookie box, hidden between books on a shelf. You still remember the taste of its content, although your primary reason for buying it was the retro packaging. Now, its filled with numerous polaroids of Seulgi and you, taken with her beloved instax. Beneath the photographs lie scraps of paper, with love confessions written on, cinema tickets, restaurant receipts, event leaflets. All working as some sort of proof that what you have with your girlfriend is real.

Her indifference to the fact that she just walked inside your house with a bouquet of flowers. Every week she replaces the previous one with a bunch of fresh petals, never once being brave enough to hand them to you. Instead, the first thing she does after entering, is pull out a vase and fill it with water. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.” Seulgi shyly looks away whenever you ask her about it.

WENDY

That one evening when instead of letting her sit on the opposite side of the bathtub, you tug her to lean on your chest. She feels small in your hold, but the embrace you’re offering prevents her from sliding down the slick surface. Wendy giggles shyly when she notices the colorful remnants of a bath bomb falling down to reveal naked skin of her legs. “Pretty.” she mutters, the word audible only to you.

Her stiff dancing at your family’s reunion. In a different context, and after more drinks, she would be doing her best to make you laugh with her moves. Yet, curious glances of your aunts and uncles stop Seungwan from anything radical. “Oh my god they’re judging me.” “They are not judging you!” “They’re your family, of course they do!”

Swinging your interlocked fingers while passing other pedestrians on the sidewalk. The night sky is clear, stars frozen under the moon’s watchful gaze. Seungwan’s excited chatter works as a pleasant accompaniment to the walk. You’re listening to her plans, genuinely curious and just as happy to be involved in them.

Squishing her cheeks when she��s not paying attention to you. Seungwan looks offended, frowning at the little pain you’ve caused her. “What was that for?” she asks. You don’t answer, instead hugging her in the middle, and hiding your face in her neck. Bewildered, she laughs awkwardly above your head, hesitating only for a moment, before returning the embrace.

The faces she makes after you call her “baby”. Seungwan’s face is naturally expressive, always going from one extreme to the other. Always making you laugh from the amount of fondness they generate. Still, “baby” is a special type of treat. Seungwan may swear she hates the term of endearment, but you know she doesn’t mean it. Just a look at her face is enough to confirm your thoughts.

JOY

Walking home late at night. Her body is leaning on yours for support after one too many drinks. Slender fingers eventually curl around your arm, as she laughs at something you said. You think to yourself that she looks the prettiest like that - smiling so widely, she struggles to keep her eyes open. Determined to keep the image of happiness as long as possible, you continue saying nonsense, hopeful her intoxicated mind finds it funny.

The afternoons she decides she wants to eat fast food. You’re not one to decline, especially since it’s her asking. You can’t even act annoyed when her red lips open widely to welcome a burger you’re holding. She has her own food, and you want to argue, but you can’t say no when her eyes are staring into your soul.

Zipping up the material on Sooyoung’s back. You’re biting down the lower lip, trying to ignore the warmth in your cheeks. It should be a normal thing to do. You’re just helping your girlfriend with a piece of clothing way more complicated than a simple T-shirt. No biggie. Then why are you so overwhelmed by everything? As you reach the neckline, your eyes meet Sooyoung’s in the mirror, and you can’t help but look away.

The feeling od disappointment you can’t shake off when the noise of your phone doesn’t announce an incoming text from Sooyoung. It’s someone else, asking you about plans. Although too shy to admit it to anyone but yourself, you’d rather meet with the person you expected to write.

Jumping not at the scare, but Sooyoung’s terrified shriek. Right after, her head hits yours, as she tries to keep down nervous giggles. The stranger sitting on your other side gives her a stink eye, but you don’t comment, instead turning towards her to smile from amusement. “I didn’t expect it, okay?” Sooyoung takes the hand you offer to her, more than satisfied with the result of a little adrenaline rush.

YERI

A series of different drinks you’ve ordered to taste test, and her overdone frown after having a classic (although too sour) lemonade. She gets angry when you refuse to take a sip of the same beverage. “Suffer with me!” “No!” “Do it!” “Shouldn’t you protect me?” “Shouldn’t you join my suffering?” “That would be very dumb of me!”

Wiping singular drops of rain off of your camera lens. Yerim is shivering under her long trench coat, the cold wind pulling at her ponytail. Aside from you, the photographer, and her, the model, nobody shows up in front of Rome’s Trevi Fountain, everyone scared of the incoming dark clouds. Maybe that’s better. You have nobody to ruin pictures of your beloved.

The maddening silence of your car ride. Yerim doesn’t even look at you, gaze stubbornly turned in the opposite direction. Any words you think of feel useless, so you don’t let anything reach her ears. Even if you’re no longer angry, the atmosphere is just too awkward for you to act upon. Instead, you soak in pity, missing the normal.

Pulling the curtain away, to reveal your styling to Yerim’s expectant eyes. She doesn’t even try to hold back laughter, as you pose as ridiculously as possible. Her hand does a poor job of hiding the wide smile she’s sporting. “What? Don’t you like it?” you tease her, the boa scarf landing around Yerim’s neck in a flirty manner. “No, no.” she snickers “I genuinely love it. Can’t wait to see you dressed in that at my cousin’s wedding.”

Braiding the laces at the end of her scarf as you await a taxi. It’s a cold winter evening, but at least it isn’t snowing. Yerim’s breath takes over your vision every once in a while. You don’t make a move to escape it, content with being so close to her. Even nicer is the feeling of her hands hiding in the pockets of your coat. Specifically, of fingers drumming a tuneless melody on your thighs.

➛ pollenat’s list of reactions

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#red velvet reactions #red velvet scenarios #red velvet imagines #red velvet fluff #rv reactions #rv scenarios #rv imagines #rv fluff #kpop reactions #kpop scenarios #kpop imagines #kpop fluff

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missskzbiased · 4 years ago

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Getting my Ex-Roommate

It’s a spin off from “Getting a Roommate”, just because I felt Chan deserved better. It’s not required to read the series to understand any of this but I will link it here anyway haha (Part 1)

Tagging @jikseud since I kinda did it for us SUHAHUSAHUSHAHUSA

Genre: Oneshot, Best friends to lovers Au, Suggestive, Mature/Smut

[(?): I’m actually not sure if it’s smut, I’m not familiar with what I can call smut, but I do think it’s mature? Please correct me if I’m wrong]

Word Count: ~8,2K Female lead

TW: Dry humping (?), Language, Suggestive stuff (?), Alcohol, Kinda possessive at the end (?), Can it be considered dirty talk (?) [I swear to god I suck at warning things, I appologize deeply]

/////

You could call Bang Chan many things.

You could call him funny, gentle, kind, an amazing rapper, a great friend, an awesome singer, a perfect producer, smart, goofy... Hot. Hell yeah, you could call him so damn hot! And although you could say he was all that, you couldn’t feel more miserable for being his best friend, and it had a clear reason that you pretend you didn’t know.

You couldn’t call him your boyfriend.

The bright part was that nor you nor anyone else for that matter, so you weren’t completely miserable right now, but you kinda were because… Well, you’re his best friend, you should root for him, right? Yeah, right. Totally right. This was exactly the reason why you knocked on his door at 10 PM on a Monday with a bag full of alcohol and food.

“Bang Chan!” You yelled, getting a groan as an answer “Open the Bifrost” You shouted and you could hear him laughing on the other side.

“It’s just a door, Y/N” He snorted, opening it for you “Which you have the keys to open if I’m not giving keys to random people on the street that look exactly like you” He rolled his eyes in mockery, making you thoughtfully grab your chin.

“I think that just might be the case” You sighed, jokingly worried as you came into his place, walking to his kitchen and letting the bag there, resting on the island. He locked the door behind you, chuckling before he followed you to his kitchen, leaning on the doorframe as he watched you taking the things you bought out of the bag.

“You didn’t need to do it” He reassured you, and you could only scoff, looking at him in disbelief.

“Yeah, because best friends stay home when their best friends were dumped” You agreed sarcastically “Please, It’s obvious that my mission is to make you drunk and fat right now” You raised the bottle you had in hands and shook the ice cream pot with your other hand, looking at him mischievously “Let’s switch that six-pack into a round one-pack, shall we?” You joked, making him laugh astonished.

“I can’t believe you… What did I ever do to deserve you? You’re the most perfect best friend ever” he cheered, getting closer and hugging you.

Yeah! Just what you loved to hear from the guy you have a crush on about forever! Yay!

“Oh, you thought it couldn’t get better, hm? But I brought your favorite…” You left the food you had in your hands on the island before hugging him back and drumming on his back, making it sillier by mouthing the drum sound as you did it, setting the mood for the big announcement “… Sausage sticks!” You said proudly, and he gasped.

“You didn’t!” He chirped “I could kiss you right now!” He laughed.

Just do it!

“Eww!” You cooed “Gross!” You feigned a queasy expression, getting a scoff from him, which you smiled in response “Come on, let’s eat as you vent about that bitch” You encouraged, picking up the alcohol the best you could, clumsily trying to balance everything, making him cackle up as he picked up some of the bottles from your arms, helping you out. You sat down on the couch, cross-legged, your arms bracing you on the armrest.

“She’s not a bitch” He complained “She’s actually… Perfect” He sighed, sadly looking into your eyes for comfort, but you averted yours. Of course, she was perfect… You have been watching him fall for her for a while now, you even had the opportunity to see her up close, although she didn’t notice you, and you had to hear about her every time he met you! Even though you knew he thought she was perfect for him, it hurt to hear it again and again, so you just opened up your soju bottle, drinking it eagerly.

“Well, she’s perfectly fine ditching you for another man, that’s for sure” You said bitterly as you rolled your eyes.

“Hey, be a little nicer here! I just got dumped” He whined, pouting at you “She likes Minho, what can she do? Pretend she likes me back until I fall for another person?” He mocked “That’s how life is, Y/N! One day you like someone and the other day that someone likes someone else” He stated tiredly, drinking his own bottle.

“Tell me about it!” You agreed, the clinking noise from your bottle hitting on his sounding in the air before you gulped down again, releasing a loud and pleasing sigh, getting a surprised look from Chan, who seemed genuinely amused.

“You were dumped too?” He chuckled “How can anyone dump you? You’re perfect!” He frowned suddenly, looking at you seriously “Should I beat him up?” You scoffed.

“It would be really funny if you did” You joked, imagining him punching himself randomly with a joyful sigh “But I don’t think you should beat him up, it will hurt your soft heart” You mocked, getting a kick as an answer.

“I tell you everything about my crushes! It’s not fair” He complained, and he was right! He told you everything about his crushes, it was unbearable. You groaned before taking another gulp, and he eyed you worried “Hey, slow down” He advised, but you shrugged him off.

You could remember all the girls he ever fell for, which was a lot of girls… Chan was a hopeless romantic. You didn’t expect him to be like this when you first met him since he was quite a… Sexual guy, to say the least. It was kind of funny to see how he acted in bed (Not that you have seen it, but you heard it a lot) and how he got all lovey-dovey with random chicks that appeared on his life. You couldn’t say it was really fun, though, since none of those chicks were you.

What an unfair life!

You remembered how he looked in your eyes when you first met, smiling at you and saying that the only rule you should have was not to fuck each other, because it couldn’t end up well. At first, you agreed eagerly, not really thinking much about it, but then you started to hear him… All those girls should feel so damn lucky if he made them feel like screaming on your ears every fucking night! In the beginning, it enraged you, it was uncomfortable, and then somewhere along the way it turned into sexy… You enjoyed listening to him.

If you were fair enough you could point out exactly the day it happened.

You were sitting in the kitchen, drinking your hot chocolate warily expecting him to be done anytime soon so you could go to sleep in peace. The girl finally let out a loud moan that you knew too well, it was that kind of moan you let out when you couldn’t take anything anymore, you could only lay there and sleep, completely happy with your life. Good for her! Because you had to wake up really early in the morning and you couldn’t be unhappier… Your moody mind got startled at a shirtless Chan walking into the kitchen, his boxers kind of messy and the only thing that protected his body from your thirsty eyes.

He was… Wow.

You had seen him shirtless before, of course, you were his roommate, but you never saw him all fucked out, his hair messy, his skin sweaty and flushed, his chest going up and down as he breathed… You didn’t even know! Satisfied? Heavily? You just knew it sounded hot and you wanted to get his boxers out of that body and take him to yourself. Of course, you didn’t. He greeted you with an angelic smile, warmed up some water while you ogled at his back, and went back to his room to take care of the lucky girl.

You have never been the lucky girl once.

The problem could be small if he just fucked well, but Bang Chan was an angel in real life, which should be unfair to all the boys on the planet! You couldn’t understand how no one tried to beat him up just because they were angry with his perfection. You wanted to beat him up for being that perfect. It was impossible to point out a flaw on that damn face, and it enraged you to the point you wanted to be fucking him angrily, which didn’t help your case at all. Actually, being a hopeless romantic wasn’t quite the virtue you were looking for, but would you put it as a flaw? You didn’t even care anymore, all you wanted was to fuck and cuddle him to your death.

“What are you thinking about?” His voice startled you, your eyes shooting to his as you tried to think what to say without telling him the truth “You’re off for quite a while now” He added, looking worried.

“I drank too fast” You lied, cringing with your stupidity, but he seemed to buy it “Anyway, I’m not here to talk about my terrible love life, I’m here to hear about yours” You reminded him, gesturing so he could start complaining, your bottle being finished as you went silent.

“I don’t have much to complain, really… I expected it one way or another, I kinda knew she liked Minho, I just hoped she could like me better” He admitted, looking at his bottle for a few seconds before drinking “I told her we could be friends, I just needed some time to adjust… She’s coming this Friday, so… Yeah, that’s pretty much all that I have to say” He looked at you, expecting you to say something.

“I can’t believe you used all my pick-up lines on her” You groaned “I gave you my best one so far!” You whined childishly.

“I’m sorry, but I had to use the photographer one! I can picture you and I together was just right there to be used!” He defended himself, and you pouted, finishing another bottle, just like him. The sad part about this one was that you really meant it… You could remember how nervous you were when you said it as a “joke” and he cringed, laughing and saying he would totally use that with her… It shattered your heart. You opened the third bottle, drinking it at once “Wow! What the hell, girl?!” He got startled “You’re not a good drinker, what are you doing?”

“You’re not the only one who wants to forget someone” You protested, opening one more drink “Let me drink my problems away” He looked at you sympathetically. You couldn’t believe you were so boldly trying to flirt with him just to be his motivation to flirt with another girl! You hated how he was oblivious to your feelings. Oh, well! There here was a flaw!

“That bad, hm? What did he do?” He asked curiously, opening and drinking his soju in one go, just like you “We can drink it all away together, you’re right” he agreed, looking at you concerned. Your stomach flipped when you looked at his eyes, his swollen lips from sucking the bottleneck catching your eyes for just a second before your eyes darted to his again.

Not every flaw in the world could make you want him less.

“He fell in love with someone else… I guess best friends have the same love problems” You smiled bitterly “Actually, I like him for a while now, but he can’t even see me as a woman” You sighed, averting your eyes and fixing them on your bottle again. Maybe it was the alcohol speaking, but you felt free to say it out loud, maybe all you had to do was vent a little bit, complain about him so you could move on.

“I doubt that” He scoffed “There’s no way in hell he doesn’t see you as a woman! Like no way in fucking hell!” He disagreed eagerly, and you narrowed your eyes to him “I mean it! I’m not saying you’re just this, don’t get me wrong! You know you’re smart and funny, you know you’re like the perfect girl to any guy out there!” He started cautiously, making you snort.

To any guy out there but him…

“Spill it” You encouraged, expecting him to say something dumb, trying to light up your mood. He used to do it a lot when you lived together, say stupid things just to make you laugh and feel better after a crap day… Well, until he decided to move out. You never really understood what was the deal. He said he wanted to live with the boys so he could produce his music, but he could do it while living with you, couldn’t he? Of course, He could! He was doing this right now after being kicked out from their place! And he didn’t even think to move in with you again… Well, He deserved being kicked out! You thought as you scoffed, the bittersweetness in your mouth could be either from the alcohol or from your soul at this point.

“But you also hot as hell” He added. You could only choke, coughing so much you had to rest your bottle on the floor, looking at him completely in chock while he just smiled sheepishly “I mean it, you’re gorgeous! If he doesn’t see you as a woman, he’s totally insane!” He reassured, and you averted your eyes again, wondering if you should say something to him. He never called you hot before… Maybe it was the alcohol? He wasn’t exactly the best drinker in the world, but it was just his… How many bottles did he have? He couldn’t be drunk already, could he? And even if he was! Was he being the sincere drunk? Did he really think about you like this and just never dared to say it to your face? You glanced over him, watching as he drank lazily.

You decided to ignore it by now.

“Well, I can’t really blame him for not liking me, right?” You trailed off, and Chan nodded at you “At least he didn’t hook up with me before” You mused and as soon as you said it he shot you a glare “No, sorry! I’m just angry at this girl, okay? You took her on dates, you were all lovey-dovey with her, you took care of her when she was on her period… I can’t believe she just left you like this” You complained, picking up your bottle and drinking it as Chan drank his own.

If you were her, you would never leave him.

“She wanted to see if it would go well… It didn’t” He shrugged “It’s not a big deal, I think you’re more upset about it than I am” He laughed. You slapped your own thigh, startling him as you pointed at him, angry. He was right, you were far more upset with this than him, maybe because you couldn’t understand how she could miss your chance like this! He did all you wished he would do with you and then she just dropped him!

“You should be upset too! She called you a hot daddy and she just went away like this!” You whined. You looked at the bottle on your hand, wondering how many bottles did you just drink, feeling a little bit tipsy, but you shrugged it off by looking at Chan again, frowning. The truth was that you found the girl amusing, for all you saw and all you heard, she was fun to be around, and maybe you could even be her friend! You both seemed to be quite similar. You didn’t have much to defend your plea, so you were just saying anything you could think of by this point.

“Do you want me to be upset?” He chuckled “I thought you came here to make me feel better” He whined, nudging you with his feet, making you giggle “Come on, make me feel good!” He uttered, throwing himself back on the couch, sprawling there with a pout. You looked at his lips, kinda drooled but still looking kissable, tracing over his neck to his arms until you got to his hand hanging off of the couch holding his drink… Somehow the eight bottles you had bought were just empty on the floor… Did you two drink that much already?

Suddenly you realized what he had just said.

“Wait, what?!” You asked startled, he looked at you confused, a goofy smile on his lips.

“Make me feel good~” He repeated himself, “You said you came here to cheer me up, right?” He pouted again, and you had to fight your urge to crawl over him and kiss him right there. You averted your eyes, feeling shy all of sudden, and he seemed to notice the change in your mood, because he sat back, straight, and tilted his head cutely “What’s up?”

You felt his gaze burning your face.

Or maybe it was just you blushing.

Or maybe it was the alcohol.

“I can kiss it better” You muttered under your breath, your face heating up like hell “Where does it hurt?” You asked, bolder than you thought you should be, your eyes fixing on his, buried there. You could swear he was blushing too. Maybe it was just the alcohol speaking, but you were so sure he was blushing like you were, looking at you expectantly.

“We’re drunk” He gulped down, looking attentively as you uncrossed your legs and kneeled on the couch, crawling over him slowly, his body leaning back until his head sank in his pillow as you leaned closer to his face “We’re friends” He tried again, watching as you licked your bottom lip while ogling his own, he felt his throat blocking, the dryness in it making him whine “Right?” He asked unsurely, his eyes fixed on your lips.

“You can call us friends…” You agreed, a smirk flickering over your face “… But I want to call you Daddy tonight” He gasped, his breath withhold as he watched you closing the gap between your lips. You couldn’t tell if it was the drunkenness or just to be able to finally kiss him after such a bold statement, but you were light-headed and messy right now, your lips met awkwardly, too much teeth to the formula, which made you snort right into the kiss “Sorry” You blurted out embarrassed, widening your eyes as you giggled and sat in his lap, watching him under you.

“Oh lord…”He muttered, his eyes searched dazzlingly for yours, his hand caressing your cheek “Could you please not sit on my dick? It would help me so much…” You burst out laughing, his voice sounding drowsy to your ears, his tongue rolling as he tried to speak, his gaze fixing in the ceiling, trying to avert from your eyes.

“I thought you wanted me to make you feel good” You whispered in his ear, sending a shiver down his spine, his eyes shutting immediately, his hand made their way to your hips as soon as you rolled them against his, gripping you hard and forcing you down, so you would stay still. You would never do something like this in a sober state, but right now it seemed so right… That’s why even with his grip on you, his budge pressed against you distracting you from sober thoughts, you rolled your hips again, enticing a strangled moan from him that could be enough to set you on fire for days.

“We really shouldn’t” He tried to say, his voice dripping like syrup, his mind lost somewhere along the way, his eyes refusing to look at you. He knew the moment he opened his eyes, he would lose himself right there, just by facing the lust on yours. You should never know this, but he wanted this for so long… You would never imagine how much he refrained himself every day until he found her, the girl who finally got you away from his mind… The girl that resembled you so much that he found it possible to move on from you… Just so you could blow all that up.

Gosh, he wished you would blow him right now.

“We… Shouldn’t?” Your voice sounded unsure and fragile, so soft he almost didn’t hear you, and you lifted from his lap, his hand still glued to your hip while he opened his eyes slowly to watch you “I mean… “ You cleared your throat, giving him a fake and bright smile “You’re too weak, what’s that? For some Daddy you sure lose your shit quickly” You joked half-heartedly, getting up from him and standing beside the couch, his eyes buried into yours, looking for something you didn’t know, so you averted yours.

“It’s just that… We’re… Drunk” He trailed off, averting his eyes as well “I don’t want us to regret this… I mean, we’re friends, right? I don’t want to lose this” He pointed between you two, getting up from the couch as well to get close to you. You scoffed, nodding in agreement, even though you didn’t agree at all. Yeah, you felt kinda tipsy, but no, you weren’t drunk, you were bold at best! He looked fine too… He just didn’t want this as much as you.

“You’re right” You stated bitterly “We’re drunk and hurt… We’ve been friends for too long to lose it for being a rebound” He perked his ears at your sigh, looking at you directly now “It was supposed to be a joke, but it got out of hand, I’m sorry” You lied, smiling awkwardly at him. He held your hand, squeezing it reassuringly, and smiling back to you.

“No, no… I am the one who should be sorry” His other hand caressed your cheek, and you felt your eyes tearing up. Why did he have to be so caring? He got alarmed at the sight, cupping your cheeks, leading you to face him gently, his eyes worriedly scanning your features “Sorry… I’m just…” Your voice trembled, cracking in the end, broken.

“Oh, angel” He cooed, hugging you tightly “That’s not your fault… We’re fine, I promise you” his thumbs rubbed circles on your back, soothingly, and every string inside your brain tensed up, trying to stay focused, trying to understand that this would never happen even if you really urged for it. You hugged him back, taking advantage of these few seconds you could have, taking him in as you prepared to let him go.

“We’re fine, you’re right” You agreed, breaking away from him before you wiped your tears away hurriedly, chuckling “I’m just sensitive right now… I guess… Well, it’s hard to fall for someone that can’t be yours” He nodded, cupping your cheek again as he looked lovingly at you.

You wished he could look at you like this every day and not only when you were crying.

“Okay! Let’s lift that mood” You clapped your hands suddenly, startling him, your smile back to your face as you tried to compose yourself “I’m going to take a bath now and we’re going to sleep because your bloody ass was dumped on a Monday and I have classes tomorrow morning, unlike a lazy bitch” You eyed him envy, making him laugh. You smiled for real this time, enjoying the sound of his laugher, glancing at his dimples with a tight chest. He was so cute…

Oh, good lord! Why give you a handsome and fuckable best friend and not let you enjoy this life?

You made your way to his room, picking up his clothes so you could sleep comfortably. You choose a thin shirt and a pair of boxers you were used to dressing, knowing it was comfy and soft, and headed to his bathroom, expecting that a cold shower could help your mind for now. You undressed quickly, letting your clothes on his laundry basket before letting the cold water hit your foot, getting used to the temperature before getting your legs, arms, and chest under the water. You let the water hit the back of your neck, the pressure helping you with your tension.

Everything was fine.

You slept in his bed many times by now… Just because you just sat on his lap, rolled your hips and heard him moan for you… Okay, that was not how you should structure your thoughts. It didn’t matter you just heard him moan right under you, almost asking for you to… Okay, not like that. The cold shower wasn’t helping at all. It didn’t matter, whatever it was, that’s it! Now it was far better! It didn’t matter, you weren’t overthinking it, you didn’t mind he would be lying on his bed on his boxers like usual, totally relaxed.

For lord’s sake.

Would it be bad if you just touched yourself for just a second? You could come in a minute? How the hell did you expect to lay down with him semi-naked after tonight? You were just crying on his chest for something he didn’t even know! After sitting on his damn lap! What the hell were you thinking? You should stay away from alcohol forever. That was it. No more drinking for you. Nothing. Not one drop would touch your lips from now on.

Maybe think about lips wasn’t the best choice at all.

You remembered how your lips met his, all drooled because of drinking and still managing to taste just fine. God does favorites after all. You should have done it better… You just smashed your lips together, kinda lost in what you were doing, your teeth even hit each other! Ugh… He would think you were a terrible kisser! Not that it matters, since you shouldn’t do it again. Yeah, you were worrying for nothing, like always. You even puffed his mouth with air! Why did you have to laugh in the middle of the kiss?! Oh my god… All your life was embarrassing.

You turned off the shower, drying yourself and dressing up so you could finally lay down, not minding him at all, because he was a friend. Just a friend. Best friend of one and all. When it came to shipping, you and he could only be on a friendship, because that was exactly what you were. A friend. Great, your mind wasn’t done rambling, which was the last thing you needed right now, but who cares? Not your brain, that’s for sure.

“Hey” You greeted, trying to sound at ease. He had his arms crossed under his head, looking at the ceiling contemplatively before hearing you. He seemed in deep thought, but he still turned his head to look at you, smiling when he saw you with his clothes, the same clothes you picked up every time you needed to borrow some from him. Unexpectedly, he was covered with a blanket, which wasn’t really his thing “What is it? Are you shy to let me see you on your boxers for the hundredth time?” You joked, amused by the blush dusting his cheeks.

“I thought… I don’t know, maybe you would be uncomfortable?” He confessed, a sigh leaving his lips “I’m just being dumb, hm?” He laughed bashfully, tossing the blanket aside “Come here” He wiggled his brows jokingly, patting the spot next to him, getting a chuckle from you.

“I’m glad you’re just being weird like always” You stated before turning off the lights, sitting on the corner of the bed before slicking over to his side, cuddling him “I wouldn’t be able to sleep if you didn’t let me cuddle you like always, Mr.Puffles” You couldn’t see it in the dark, but you were sure he rolled his eyes as he always did when you compared him to your body pillow, a birthday gift he gave you on your first year together as a roommate, implying you were too cuddly to sleep by yourself.

“Stop calling me Mr.Puffles” He whined, hugging you under the blanket and resting his chin on the top of your head. You felt all your worries disappear. It was just Chan and you cuddling like always, all your horny past left behind, no grudges, no judgment… “Was it Mr.Puffles who hurt your heart like this?” He mocked. What a little prick.

“Mr.Puffles could never hurt me” You retorted, nudging him “The boy who hurt me is a prick, an evil soul that fucks every girl around but me” You made sure to let your tone mysterious and ridiculous, making him snort “I guess it’s fine, though, I’ll just move on… I think it was about time for me to understand we wouldn’t get together…” You felt sad, especially as he nodded against your head, oblivious he was the one who made you feel like this.

“He doesn’t deserve you” He assured you, his tone was bitter, he clearly hated whoever was making you sad like this. He kissed the top of your head and you hummed, agreeing with him half-heartedly before closing your eyes and letting go of your mind.

You wished a good night of sleep would erase all of your worries.

////

It should be no surprise it didn’t.

You woke up with a crack of light right on your eye, pissing you off as the first thing in your morning. You whined, your arms moving to your head, trying to block the light, getting you a little bit happier when the uncomfortable sensation of your eye burning under the sun went away. Your eyes roamed through the room, realizing you were at Chan’s. You began to feel more aware of your surroundings, your eyes rested on his nightstand, his alarm silently staring back at you which made you realize something terrible: You woke up before your alarm. You were sure you set it to the right time, so that bloody silence in the room could only mean that the damn light woke you up for nothing.

Your day was officially sucking!

You moved a little bit, feeling cloistered, but Chan’s grip was strong around your waist, he just pulled you closer, whining in his sleep when you tried to get away, tightening his grip around you, which would be okay if he wasn’t wrapping you up like a taco, his leg thrown around your hips, his arms involving you, one of his hands on your waist and the other one grazing over your breast. You sucked in a gasp, feeling his hand almost groping you. Amazing… Now you were stuck in his arms as his hands brushed places you would prefer they didn’t.

Well, actually you would prefer they did, but purposely trying to arouse you, not like this.

Of course, it could get worse.

You tried to loosen up his grip by shoving his arms, but he responded to your efforts wrapping you up a little bit more, dragging you closer by your waist so close to him you could feel his crotch against your ass. Fun fact: It was hard. Of course, he had to have a wet dream right beside you while he groped you and humped you… Just what you needed to move on completely from him.

“Chan?” You tried to call, your voice husky since you just woke up, or at least that was what you wanted to believe. You couldn’t be aroused by a sleeping friend that happened to be aroused against you, right? Not that kind of raspy voice…Not at all. He hummed, although you didn’t believe he had woke up, burying his face in your hair, muttering something you couldn’t quite hear, your heart racing so much that it rammed inside your head.

Oh my god.

“Y/N?” He called you back, his voice was raspy and his tongue rolled your name like a drunk man, clearly sleepy, and for a moment you felt relief wash over you, grateful god would let him wake up and release you from the heavenly suspicious hell. Surprisingly, he didn’t wake up, he bucked his hips against you, squeezing you as he let his hot breath fan over your right ear.

Oh lord.

“Chan, please wake up” You pleaded, his cock pressed against your butt and his lips brushing your ears being enough for your tongue roll just like his, but naughtier, as the shiver ran through your body, making you shut your eyes for god knows what reason, since it just enhanced all those feelings “Come on, wake up” You said again, trying to nudge him with your elbow.

“Hm?” The hit seemed to work, he shifted, and you took the chance to roll away as you could, which meant you got on your back, getting away from his crotch for now, but still being held by your waist. He didn’t seem interested in waking up, so he took your new position in, hugging you like a koala and burying his face on the crook of your neck.

What a great place to plaster a hot breath.

You closed your eyes, deciding to enjoy the feelings, his body warming up yours, his breath giving you goosebumps, his grip tight on you like he didn’t want to let go. You stretched your neck just for a bit, almost hoping he would just kiss it, which he didn’t, but his lips brushed over your sensitive skin and you gripped the sheets hard, biting your lip to suppress a moan. You could say you almost had a heart attack when your alarm burst out of nowhere, startling both of you. You jumped, accidentally head-butting his nose, getting a whine from him as he hovered over you to turn off the alarm.

That was it, you were dead.

He supported himself with his knee, that was already over your body, so he just sank it between your legs, his left arm bracing him as he stretched his right one to turn off the alarm. His chest was right there for your display, and you almost reached for it, wishing you could caress him and kiss him until he moaned your name… Control your mind! You can control it. He seemed to realize someone was under him, so he looked in your way, taking in your flushed state.

You were a mess.

Your hair was messy, your clothes were messy, the sheets were messy… What the hell had happened while he was sleeping? Somehow your shirt had come up quite a bit, revealing your belly and hanging too close to your boobs, letting too much skin uncovered, which made him gulp. He traced his eyes over your belly to your boxers, short enough to fully reveal your thighs and get his attention when you tried to pressed them together, rubbing against his knee.

What an unholy view…

“Sorry” He muttered, getting off of you, laying his back in the bed and looking to the ceiling, expecting the blank surface to make his bulge disappear somehow. It was almost painful how hard you could get him just staying still, those innocent eyes looking at him startled and… He didn’t even know! Eagerly? It seemed like you expected him to do something.

“Totally fine” Your voice came out hoarsely, and you cursed yourself. Way to go unnoticed! Your legs couldn’t support you even if you tried to stand up, you just felt them mushy, like your soul was trembling to get yourself on him, riding him until you couldn’t walk to your class anymore. He was just too hot to handle… How could you endure it? Being next to a guy who literally just called you in his sleep and rubbed his cock against your ass? You weren’t even wearing underwear! It was just boxers against boxers… You could feel your body tensing up, a pinch on your stomach that needed to be released.

But not now.

“Aren’t you… Hm… Getting up?” He asked, his face turning to you so he could lock his eyes with yours. That was it. Fuck it. You couldn’t care less you had classes today, you threw your leg over his hips, watching as he widened his eyes when you sat right on his dick, just like the last night. You rocked your hips once, getting a shaky moan from him, his eyes closing in delight “What are you doing?” He managed to ask, his mind too high to really understand what he was saying but trying to look composed.

“I’m getting up on you” You stated boldly, waiting for him to open his eyes, but he didn’t. You scoffed, the smugness taking control of your mind as you leaned closer to his ear, letting your breath fan there for a moment, feeling him twitch under you “What were you dreaming?” He shot his eyes open, a gasp leaving his lips “I heard you call my name… As you… Humped… Me” You made sure to pronounce everything slowly, getting off on his shiver, a little whimper falling from his lips.

You felt powerful.

“Y/N?” His voice trembled and you leaned back, your eyes searching for some kind of resistance in his face “Are you sure you want this?” His eyes focused on you, concerned, and you rolled your eyes, astonished.

“Are you fucking kidding me?” You scoffed “Do you think I would do it if I wasn’t sure?” He smiled sheepishly at you, embarrassed “There’s a limit you shouldn’t cross on being dumb, Chan” You laughed, looking at him in adoration for a moment, just enjoying his shy look “Are you sure about this?” You bit your lip, trying to not avert your eyes as he opened and closed his mouth, unsure about what to say.

You panicked.

Of course, he didn’t want this! If he wanted this he wouldn’t back off yesterday, he wouldn’t ask you if you were sure… He would take that not so subtle hint that was your clothed core rubbing against his cock as a clear sign of you wanting to do it with him right now. You tried to get off of him, raising yourself slightly before his hands shoot to your hips and grabbed them, tugging you and crashing your hips together, a groan escaping from his lips along a loud moan leaving yours.

Holy fuck…

“Don’t you fucking dare…” He whispered, panting, his forehead rested on your shoulder, his body shivering under yours in excitement “I swear to god… You can’t even imagine how much I wanted to fuck you” He raised his head a little bit, looking at your hips pressed together, your body twitching under his grip “You’re so fucking hot… I had to move out because I couldn’t handle myself… Did you know that?” He raised his head, looking right into your eyes, his eyes dark as you never saw “Did you know I quit being your roommate because every time I saw you, I wanted to fuck you until you forget your damn name?”

That was it! It was a dream.

There was no way in hell you were awake right now.

“Answer me” He ordered, his voice sounded too sexy to allow you to think straight, so you just stared back at him, wetting your dry lips with your tongue, your eyes briefly darting to his lips before going back to his eyes “You can’t even answer me…” He scoffed, rolling his eyes as if you were dumb “Okay, let me ask you this… Are you doing it so you can forget him?” This time his voice wasn’t smug, it was unsure and worried. You couldn’t even understand what he was worrying about.

“Forget him?” You asked confused, your eyes wandering through his face “What?” He closed his eyes, impatient, before he opened them again and dived into your own. He didn’t answer you, so you stood there in silence, wondering what he wanted you to say until it hit you, and as your eyes lit up in realization, you laughed “What?! There is no him, dumbass! It’s you!” He seemed surprised but relieved, and you couldn’t help but cup his cheeks as you smiled at him, delighted “It has always been you…” You pulled his face closer, your lips smashing mid-way, your tongue immediately asking for permission to explore his mouth.

You never imagined you would be kissing Bang Chan.

Okay, you imagined it! But you never thought it was going to be real.

This time, the soberness helped you both, not an issue with your kiss, quite the opposite actually. As you just melted into the kiss, his hands slipping to your waist and holding you gently, like you could break and fade away anytime now, your hands slickered to the back of his neck, fingers fisted on his locks, pulling them and making him groan into the kiss, completely absorbed on what you made him feel. You couldn’t help but moan against his lips as you heard it, rolling your hips ever so slightly just to feel him against you, getting your folds apart.

“You’re so needy, angel” He whispered, his mouth hovering over yours, his eyes closed as he dunks in the heat pouring out of your body, the warmth between your bodies seemed to get him high, and your nails scratching down his nape weren’t helping at all. He buried his nose on your neck, breathing you in, registering you in the back of his mind, your mouth agape in pleasure from a tiny action like this “But you’re also a brat… You shouldn’t talk back to your Daddy” He sighed, disappointed in you, leaving a soft bite on your neck before leaning back, enough to take in the view.

Your eyes were closed, your neck slowly stretching as your head was so heavy with all your lust that it just needed to hang back, your mouth still opened, prepared to moan at any moment. What a beautiful sight. He smirked before getting his hands away from you, crossing it behind his neck, watching as you opened your eyes, annoyed. You glared at him, clearly wanting him to fuck you right now but he just snorted, cocking his brow.

“I won’t pleasure a brat” He grimaced at you, feeling cocky as he saw your pout, your brows frowning “You should do this by yourself if you can’t behave” He mocked, watching as you scoffed, outraged, before sinking in him in a silent challenge. He groaned as he felt your folds embracing him over the fabrics, you could only be dripping if you could just sink like this on his dick, and just the thought was enough to make him want to rip your clothes and fuck you right there, put aside your misbehave.

“Watch me” You didn’t know if it was a plead or a dare and neither did he, so he just focused on your hips moving against his, (not so) dryly humping him at a steady pace. You stroke your heat against him, feeling as the fabric of your boxers drenched with your juices, making it slid too easily and rub your clit, your whines uncontrollable, you were sure his boxers were getting drenched too as you did it, and you couldn’t help but dig your nails on his shoulders just by imagining it. He groaned under your grip, feeling as you slid too easily on him.

“Holy shit, you’re so wet and I didn’t even touch you” He actually didn’t intend to mock you by this but as soon as you squirmed, biting your lips and fastening your pace, he chuckled “Oh… So you like to be a needy little whore?” His voice sounded so smug that you wanted to retort him, but your mind couldn’t register what he was saying. How could you feel so good just by grinding him? You felt something build-up inside you, a far too familiar sensation that could only lead you to the best orgasm you would have had in your life.

Until the damn second alarm sounded.

You cried as you felt your orgasm fade away, vanish like it wasn’t right there for you, startled by the sound, and devasted for the lack of pleasure you would get. Chan turned off the alarm, chuckling as he saw you leaning on his chest, your nose buried on his shoulder as you whined over and over again a bunch of “no’s”, muffled by his skin. He stroke your hair gently, waiting for you to recover from your frustration.

“Time for your classes, angel” He really didn’t want you to go but he said it anyway, holding your waist so you could get up but you held his arms for dear life, whining. He stopped his movements, trying to take a look at your state, and you made it easier by straightening yourself on his lap again, glossy eyes looking at him pleading.

“Fuck my classes! Please, let me cum” Your plea sounded like the sweetest sound he could ever hear, you bucked your hips against his once, then twice, and without a proper answer, you just resumed from where you left, humping him eagerly, hoping you could reach your orgasm this time. It built up much faster than before, the knot forming on your stomach almost immediately, and you couldn’t help but moan loudly as you felt it deliciously spreading everywhere.

Chan watched as you flushed, your neck, ears, and face painted in pink, your boobs bouncing up and down as you kept your pace, your arms tangling his neck, your head slowly falling back, your body trembling slightly as you got closer to your high. You tried to shut your mouth but as soon as your orgasm hit you, you cried satisfied, your mouth agape, a string of saliva connecting your lips before running down your chin, your eyes rolling back as his name was enchanted over and over again, and when you became unable to talk, your tongue just slid out your mouth, hanging there in the most filthy view he had in his whole life.

He could have come right there.

You didn’t stop your movements, rocking your hips slowly until you could ride out from your high, and when you finally stopped, feeling whole as you never felt, you looked into his eyes. He looked dazed at you, his eyes fucking you silently, and he let a breathless “wow” slip from him as he watched you. The shame crushed you without any mercy, humiliation washing over you as you tried to hide from him, your face burying in his chest. He chuckled, amused by your shyness before he rubbed your back gently.

“Can you keep going?” You scoffed, nuzzling into his chest.

“Are you fucking kidding me?” You asked tiredly, a smile growing in your face “If you tried to stop me now I would have to search someone to fuck on the streets” You joked but he didn’t seem to like it, gripping your waist and bringing your body closer to his, getting a whine out of you when you rubbed against him again.

“I will make sure to fuck you until you can’t even think about fucking someone else” He assured you, his voice low and threatening, getting you even more aroused than you were “Be a good girl and when I’m finished, you won’t even remember your name, angel, you won’t be able to cum with anyone else, you will be my little slut... Only mine” His whisper sent a shiver down your spine and even though you were more than willing to comply, you snorted.

“What if I’m a bad girl?” He scoffed, his fingers burying in your hair and tugging it slightly as he approached his lips from your ears, letting his teeth graze your earlobe before biting it.

“Then I will punish you so hard you won’t be able to walk for a week” His threat made you twitch, your tongue darted to your lips, wetting them.

“Make it two and I will be the best brat you ever had” You offered, making him laugh, breaking his character for a moment. He shook his head in disbelief, kissing your neck softly.

“What do I do with you?” He giggled, hugging you tightly, and you chuckled, scratching his back lightly.

“I hope you’ll do me before I need to ask someone else” You joked.

“Okay, let’s make it two” He agreed, his eyes darkening again “I won’t stop until you’re begging me to ruin you” He promised, and you gulped down, excited as his fingers traced down your body until it reached your core “Are you familiar with the color system?” He asked, thumb flicking your clit directly, making you squirm under his touch as you nodded silently, lost in your mind “Use your words, angel… I want to hear your voice… It’s time for the neighbors to meet my new roommate, don’t you think?” His finger slid inside you, suddenly, a surprised moan leaving your lips on spot, getting a smirk from him “Yeah, that’s right… Something like this” He approved.

What a perfect son of a bitch…

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katsidhe · 4 years ago

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15.19 Final Thoughts

I was all set for disappointment after 15.18, but this was… good, actually! Not perfect by any means, but the beats it hit and the points it made were by and large ones I’d been waiting for all season. Where it wasn’t touching (and it was touching!), it was absurd enough for me to enjoy it heartily anyway. I wish that this episode had been split into, like, three, so that it could have spent the time it needed on wallowing.

I love the empty earth. Love it to absolute PIECES. Because it fits so, so well, right? The claustrophobia of the Winchesters’ lives writ grotesquely large. They’re the most important people in the universe, of COURSE they are, because Chuck feels like it, and of course they can’t die, of course they’re doomed to wander eternally—ughh I love it. It’s the natural, absurd, and absurdist conclusion to where this story has always been heading. I am so glad that they went there.

Sam’s heartbreaking guilt—his knowledge that his defiance in 15.17 was what led to this empty universe. Oh, Sam. Again sublimating his loss and his agony into personal responsibility. And the worst part is that he’s right. I love the tragicomedy of Sam and Dean’s offer to play along for Chuck, and that he refuses, preferring to watch them walk the earth alone. Honestly? if it had cut to black right there? I would be mightily pleased.

ok but SAM!!! if there was a winner of 15.19 (and therefore a winner of SPN in general? sure feels that way to me), it’s Sam. Sam defied Death and defied God (and in 15.17 defied Dean). Sam saved Jack, who was the key to everything. Sam got the assist on Lucifer. Sam tricked Michael. Just, GAHH, what a great episode for him.

I about lost my goddamn mind when Lucifer showed up, because I had lost any inkling of hope that he’d turn up again. Kinda figured that plot thread had been irrevocably dropped. I’m sorry for losing my faith, Show! I should have believed that you’d eventually give me a taste of what I wanted!

I predict this opinion is going to be a little unpopular, but I was so happy to see him. I don’t care that he was too quippy, I don’t care that he was gone in like six minutes, I don’t care that his and Michael’s fight was, again, anticlimactic (though at least there weren’t wires, t god). Here’s the thing. I don’t NEED my fictional suffering to be like, artisanal, and thoughtfully designed. I’ll buy that shit at Costco, in ten gallon drums. I’ll chug it straight from the bottle like trauma ketchup. I’ll watch Lucifer resurrected a thousand times, if it means I get to watch Sam’s FACE while they’re in the same room. PRAISE.

The corollary: the ABSOLUTELY AMAZING CONCEPT of the last five people in the entire world being Michael, Lucifer, Sam, Dean, and Jack, all stuck awkwardly in the Bunker. Omfg. This SENT me so hard I had to take a walk, I was laughing too much. What a ripe premise. What an ugly premise. I need fic, immediately, stat, stat means now.

Relatedly, I love the mental image of Sam unobtrusively going offscreen and getting the archangel blade and handing it to Michael and quietly hissing, “uh PLEASE ffs kill your goddamn brother.” Pfffffffffffffffff.

Deeply disappointed that Jack didn’t get a chance to say anything to Lucifer. Yet another thing that needs further treatment.

I’d figured Lucifer was telling the truth when he told them he was joining Team Kill Chuck. However, Lucifer’s willingness to be on board with Chuck’s plan makes, just, a ton of sense. He’s always had less to lose than Michael, when it comes to accepting his father’s olive branch, since he fell so far so long ago, while Michael is still teetering on that precipice. And Chuck’s just extended, basically, a massive apology to him by erasing all the people and places and stories that he favored over his children. Of COURSE Lucifer wants to be alone with his dad, the only chosen one left, in a universe that is finally pristine. Of course he wants to rub his new favor in Michael’s face. I just wish we’d seen and heard more of this. His resurrection wasn’t pointless at all, but it was underdeveloped.

Michael’s inability to separate himself from his father’s will at the bitter end is a tragic and somber end. Jake Abel brought his A-game again. I wish very deeply that we’d been able to see more of him this season: he is one of the few surviving people with genuine investment in Chuck as a person, and he had a deep, deep betrayal to unpack.

Chuck and his enemies: Billie was always too straightforward in her goals and motivations to be truly interesting as an enemy to Chuck; she is less a character, and more an avatar, a force of nature. She opposed him the way a river opposes stone. The Emptity is nearly disinterested in the whole mess—it just wanted to be left alone. The really interesting sources of conflict for Chuck were always going to come from his family: Amara, and the archangels. And I’m glad we got some of that conflict now, even if it was too little too late.

Both of his children were unable to separate themselves from craving his approval. It’s a dire, tragic condemnation of this immortal cosmic family. And it says something about the microcosm of the Winchesters, of them as the model for the stories Chuck enjoys, the stories he inhabits. Supernatural is a story about being trapped.

Sam somehow tricking both Michael and God? Sam, your BRAIN, it’s simply too big! but real talk how did he manage this? Does he still have the protection from Chuck’s sight via his now-erased God hole? I’m gonna go with yes, and in fact I’m gonna go a step further and pretend he still had that bullet wound this entire season, and that it healed when Jack took Chuck’s power, because now it makes even less sense than ever that the writers chose to erase that tantalizing physical connection. There, in my head, I’ve now fixed it.

Jack. Oh, Jack, what was the show ever going to do with you? The only thing it could, I think. I love that Dean, with absolutely no sense of irony, demanded Jack return with Sam and Dean to where he ~belongs, accusing him tacitly of selfishness, as if not three days ago he’d been egging him on to suicide. For Jack’s own sake, I am glad he is away from the Winchesters, and I hope he spends several decades talking to Amara and like, manifesting as a tree or something, to get some badly needed emotional balance and sense of scale. There is still so much wrong with putting this much power and responsibility in the hands of a browbeaten three-year-old. But, yes, my heart does swell at the thought of Sam’s imperfect love fostering the new God.

The image of Sam and Dean, broken bones, bloodied faces, laughing in the face of God like they’re insane is a pretty damn good one.

Also, Dean denying himself as the “ultimate killer”? Hahahaha so much to unpack there

My least favorite part was, predictably, the saccharine speech about #freewill, complete with the goddamn table carvings. I will certainly cop to really enjoying the montage, tho (but can anyone explain to me why it was like, almost-but-not-quite in chronological order? ).

I’m probably going to have more to say about all of this. Please talk to me about this episode. I’ll forgive 15.18, and hell, I’ll proactively forgive 15.20. Together with 15.17, 15.19 paints a more pleasing, more damning, and more fruitful conclusion for SPN than I ever dreamed I’d get.

#spn spoilers #15.19 #final thoughts #sam and jack #sam and lucifer #sam and chuck #chuck and lucifer #lucifer and michael #cannot believe I liked this!#cannot believe it gave me so many things I really wanted

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stargaze-issei · 4 years ago

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ᴅᴀʏ 𝟽; ғᴀᴠᴏʀɪᴛᴇ sᴇᴛᴛᴇʀ

-> semi eita.

𝐩𝐫𝐨𝐦𝐩𝐭; post timeskip!semi begins to have feelings for his neighbour, a skillful drummer.

𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬; a few curse words, mentions of alcohol.

𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭; 1.5k

𝐠𝐞𝐧𝐫𝐞; fluff.

↳ main masterlist

opportunities didn't lack in tokyo, it was so overwhelming that you didn't know where to start looking. back in you little town there was no such a thing as unknown, you were well aware of all the possible paths you could take back there, which led to you leaving searching for new experiences. your family was against it, to say the least, they saw you as a little girl who needed to be protected, who would protect you when you were far away from them? but your mind was set, so you packed your clothes, your drums would have to wait a bit until you found a steady place, put some things in boxes, and spent as much as you could in a somewhat nice apartment in the middle of tokyo.

since then had been two months, and finally, your precious musical instrument were about to arrive. just as you thought about it, the doorbell rang. you jumped from your place, thrilled to see you most beloved belongins, only to find your neighbour, who seemed to have had an intense night.

"don't look so sad to see me, angel" he greeted, gaining a smirk from you. once you grew familiar with his messy looks and flirting way of being, he turned out to be a really nice person.

"do you need an aspirin, semi?" you ignored his words, moving aside to let him in "aren't you something from the goverment? are you even allowed to party like that?"

"too many questions and no aspirins, y/n" he had this habit of visiting your place, despite never letting you into his home. you stuck you tongue out, making him laugh a little, before going to get medicine "and i just stayed up late with the band, the drummer left and we have shows coming up" you could feel the tiredness in his voice even from rooms appart.

"i'm sure you'll find someone" you tried cheering him when handling the promised pill, he just smiled before taking it without water "you're going to choke"

"you worry about me?"

"i don't want your dead body on my carpet, there's a difference" he winked at you, like you had said the complete opposite.

with semi that's how it worked, you'd be lying if you said you had never taken his constant flirting a little too serious, maybe hoping such a handsome man would be interested in you, but you knew there was nothing else than his personality. still, he had a way to make you feel comfortable, being the first person to gain your trust in less than two months. sometimes you'd hang with people from work, or others musician you had known along the weeks, but they didn't make you feel the way semi did.

"okay, princess, imma get going, i have to finish some papers for work" he got up, arranging his clothes "unless you wanna do something else" his tone indicating what kind of activities he referred to made you giggle.

"go work, i won't take you in if you get fired" between other jokes from both, he finally left your appartment.

you were left with a fuzzy feeling in your stomach and a not so subtle blush in your skin, damn be semi and his easyness to make you feel weird.

a few hours passed until your bell rang again, this time being what you were so desperately expecting. it took you less than half an hour to set your drums in the almost empty living room, you chekced the time at your phone, the ladowner had said you could be as loud as you wanted before eleven p.m. on work nights, in the bulding were mainly musicians, so it wasn't weird to hear a trumpet at breakfast, followed by a loud electric guitar and a hundred other things.

your hands moved on their own when they held the drumstick, letting all the emotions you had been bottling up the last couple of months. the sound drowning your ears, nothing else mattered there. a few apartments away, semi caught on a different sound, a sound he hadn't heard before in the building. someone was playing drums, but to say they were playing them didn't feel right, it was something else. he could feels this person's feelings, exactly what they were trying to pour into each hit, none of his past drummers had made him feel that way.

he got up of his couch, leaving his laptop by his side, ready to follow the sound to its source. whoever was playing had to be a professional, maybe he could make them join his band, he sure hope he could. with that sound, there were few things his group couldn't achieve.

there must be something wrong, he thought, because you didn't play drums, and somehow the sound came from inside your apartment, were you playing a record? no, he could feel the vibrations through the door, there was an actual person playing actual drums. how could it be? he had been there two hours ago, he knew how small the rooms were, the only place you could fit something as big was the living room, but there was nothing. had he been too focused looking at you that he didn't notice it? it wasn't his fault, you were wearing home clothes, he always loved how pretty you looked on those.

semi knocked on the door only to feel stupid after, there was no way you'd hear him with all that noise. he started to look for the spare key you hid under the rug, getting his fingers all dusty before finding it. what he saw when he opened the door took away all the words from his mouth. your eyes were closed, little hints of sweat covered you face and neck, while your hands and feet move frenetically making and incredible harmonic melody.

when you opened your eyes, semi was standing in front of you, mouth half-opened. you, by instinct, threw a drumstick towards him, who on earth enters another person's apartment without even having a key? you just don't do that on a woman, for god's sake.

"what the fuck are you doing!?"

"don't throw a fucking stick at me!"

"don't do... that! fuck!"

"you never said you played drums!"

"you never asked!"

"stop yelling at me!"

"i'm sorry!"

both stared at each other, silent for a moment, before bursting into laugh. you went to hug him, excusing a meeting, and he happily accepted between his arms. he sat in the island of the kitchen, while you headed to get a beer for both. semi was smiling, sort of proud of the made discovery, but totally forgetting what he wanted to ask you.

"you're really good" said the singer after a while.

"i hope i am, i've been playing since i was ten" his eyes opened in shock, drinking from his bottle, that was quite a long time.

the sweat from before still stained your skin, and the sun from the window made you look like you were shining. you took a zip of beer, and he actually thought on getting over his insecurity and just go kiss you.

semi saw you the day you moved in for the first time, struggling with carrying two boxes at the same time. he offered you help, not because he instantly fell in love with you, he was just feeling kind. you, at the beginning, had been reluctant to letting an strange man into you apartment, but to leave your things outside in the open, like waiting for someone to steal so little you had, was bigger than anything. you were surprised by how nice semi was, despite of his look of a homeless musician, which he kind of was. after that, he would invite you to his rehearsals, or accompany you to do groceries, found any excuse to be near you.

he thought to be around you was better than being alone in his house, stressing over idiotic details, with you, he felt calmer, like back in his highschool days, when everything was within the reach of his hands. yeah, he had come to the conclusion he felt a lot of things towards you, still rejecting the word love.

"i- you- um, band?" the lack of connectors in his so called sentence made you grin, "would you like to play with us?" he finally asked, looking at the floor, suddenly flustered.

playing with semi was something you had thought about a lot, his voice was so angelic, your mind often wondered on which tunes could go along with it, with which guitar tone.

"oh, uh, yeah, i would" his smile grew wider, unconsciously realizing how much time together you would spend.

"maybe we could go on a date, someday, um, if you want to" it was cute to see semi blushing, playing with his fingers, not being able to even look at you.

"i would like that too, semi" while you talked, he lifted his head to face you, his eyes shining in excitement, had you really said yes?

semi stayed at your place that day, talking, getting to know you, drinking beer. he thought you were so interesting, he could have stayed listening to your for even more hours. you were excited to let semi into your life, and semi was more than eager to feel a part to you.

⌙ 𝟐𝟎𝟎 𝐟𝐨𝐥𝐥𝐨𝐰𝐞𝐫𝐬 𝐬𝐩𝐞𝐜𝐢𝐚𝐥 🥳

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msmarvelwrites · 4 years ago

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The Winter Ghost - Part 12

Info: A Devastating car crash causes you to lose your memory and start over. The only thing left in the wreckage was the horrific nightmares which plagued your mind. If you knew what today would entail you would have just stayed in bed. But you didn’t and because of that, everything you knew was about to change.

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x reader

Warnings: swearing, ptsd, agnst

W/c: 2k

A/n: I want to personally apologise for this. But honestly, this was the most fun chapter to write. I’m in love with this and I hope you enjoy it as much as I do. As always, thank you to @cutie1365 for all her help with this one! Also the POV between Bucky and the reader jump back and forth alot through this one I hope it makes sense!

The several punching bags Bucky had mutilated last night lay in the corner of the gym, now collecting dust as he bandaged his bloody knuckles. He hadn't stopped thinking about you all night... Hadn’t stopped thinking about the Winter Soldier who fired those three lethal shots into his mission's chest. The Soldier he once was, fighting the monster he knew he’d always be. They could take his trigger words, but they'd never erase the incoherent and disjointed memories of the gruesome acts he had so willingly performed.

He tried to piece together that fateful mission. How could he forget? He could still see the twisted look on the man's face as his eyes rolled back into his skull, falling off the bridge and into the murky water beneath him, slipping farther and farther from view. At the time, he remembered thinking how easy it would be to dive in after him. He wondered if he hit the water, would it kill him? Surly not. Most likely, he’d survive… But a guy could dream. Sinking deeper and deeper into the cold waters would be so peaceful. He almost did it. But the blood curdling screams from behind reminded him of the task at hand.

He forced himself to relive that moment, over and over until the ringing of bullets in his mind became melotic, trying desperately to remember her face. Every time, drawing a blank. His memory of her, nothing but a tangled mess of wires, too rusted and corroded to connect. A headache pounded behind his sleep deprived eyes, scolding him. But he couldn't stop.

How could he not remember your face. Or the sound of your heavy sobs as you crumbled into a hollowed out version of the woman he’s now so fond of. You begged him, he remembered that. Your screams only to be washed out by the sound of his pistol. The drum of bullets used to be the only comfort to him, but now he would easily trade it for your laugh. The way you sigh, soft and smooth when he says something that makes you smile. The way your eyes crinkle when you're happy, or how your hair always falls in perfect ringlets around your face. He knows he shouldn't have let it get this bad, but it's too late now. You've ruined any other woman for him, and for that he was grateful. But now, as fast as you had stolen his every thought, you were gone.

Truly the better criminal.

He saw you, only in passing as you walked by the kitchen. Your eyes fell to his and he could see the hurt behind them. He wanted nothing more than to run to you, explain, apologise- but Nat stopped him before he could.

“Not like this, Barnes. Not like this.” She solded. He knew she was right. If you were to ever be able to look at him again, he needed to give you space to breathe. But Bucky was at a loss.

With Steve away doing God knows what, he wasn't sure who to turn to. It had been over a week since he had exchanged words with his best friend and though he missed him, he also hated what he had done. Deep, deep down, Bucky knew he was trying to protect him, but that didn't dismiss the complete and utter mess he had made.

So there he sat, battered and panting on the gym floor as he tried to fight the urge to run to your room and beg for forgiveness that would never come. He knew it. Perhaps that was for the best. You deserved more than a ghost of who he once was.

…………………………

Dirty plates and empty liquor bottles scattered your coffee table. You sat up, noticing Nat fast sleep on the small sofa in your room. Sam was sprawled on the floor with an old teddy bear Tom had won for you at Coney Island years back. He cradled in between his arms, soft snores slipping from beneath his lips.

You spent the rest of the night eating contraband snacks and watching some gorey action movie you picked to drown out your inner dialogue. It didn't really work, but Sam’s earth shattering snores that came half way through the movie helped in its place. As you listen to his staggered breathing, you wonder about the girl you left behind all those days ago. The one who forgot everything, but your mind tormented you with the memory of. You wondered if there was still a piece of her hidden deep down inside of you, waiting to spring forth at any moment. She wasn't broken. At least not the way you are now and you wondered, only for a moment, if maybe you liked the pathetic person she was. If only because she had no recollection of her duty, her honour, and could run back into his arms and forgive him.

But that's not who you were anymore.

Quietly, you snuck out of bed and ransacked through your dresser drawer for something to wear. Nat and Sam had helped you put some of your clothes away between shots of tequila.

‘That’s a lot of plaid’, Nat complained, pulling yet another flannel out of your box of clothes. ‘And leather, did you make it out of the nineties okay, babe?’ Sam laughed.

Grabbing your favourite jeans and vintage AC/DC shirt you stepped into the steam filled bathroom.

After getting ready, you tiptoed out of your room, quietly closing the door and silently cursing when it slammed shut.

Damn your super strength.

You whipped around, ready to bolt down the hallway when you slammed into a tall hard frame. You looked up, hoping- no, praying it wasn't…

“Hi.”

You physically recoiled at the sight. There stood Bucky, hair pulled back off his face and a big lopsided grin on his lips.

What the fuck?

“Hi.” You deadpanned, pushing past him and trying your very best to not run away screaming. You were stronger than that. You were the youngest in your graduating class, hired by S.H.I.E.L.D, trained by the best agents in the field, and a goddamn Super Soldier. You weren't running from Bucky Barnes. You did however turn quickly on your feet and briskly walk passed him.

“Hold up a sec,” he started.

You froze. Why did you freeze? You didn't need him to say anything to you. The damage was done, and yet, there you were, breathless on his every word.

“What?” You spat through a clench jaw.

“Uh, I need to talk to you…”

“Well, good for you.”

“Yeah, uh- Listen, I know you remembered everything and I just wanted to say that...” His words faded into the background as you began to see nothing but red. He was really doing this right now. Apologising for murdering Tommy, for dragging you back to Hydra, kicking and screaming, for being the sole reason you're in this mess.

Okay so you created the serum against your better judgment… But you weren’t the one on trial here.

“Are you fucking kidding me right now?” You sneer, cocking a brow.

“I- I just wanted to-”

“And I just wanted to have a fiance that wasn't dead. What did you think? You’d apologize for what you did and everything would just go back to the way it was. Huh?” He gaped at you in shock, “That I’d just forgive you and jump back in your bed? Did remember me, Barnes? Did you get off on kissing me after you shot him in the chest?” Your voice began to falter at that. Hurt and betrayal clouded your brain.

“No, of course not.” He finally spoke.

“No what? No that doesn't do it for the Winter Soldier?” You shouted. So much for quietly sneaking out.

“Y/n, listen to me- that’s not who I-.”

“Show him to me.” You took two wide pases so you were close enough to smell his body wash as you clenched your fist, digging it so hard into his chest you were sure you’d leave a mark. “Show me the Winter Soldier. Show me the ghost story they tell their children so that they’ll behave. I know he’s still in there. Cumon, Buck. You can't honestly believe he doesn't control your every move. You're a monster, you're just too much of a pussy to admit it. But I know-”

In seconds your back hit the wall, his metal arm crushing your windpipe as he held you there. If it weren't for your strength you were sure you would have passed out from the sheer strength of his blow. He was seething, eyes dark and all emotion washed from his face.

You tried to look scared, you really did. But there was something about that hollow stare that sent a shiver down your spine. Maybe you were the one getting off on the Winter Soldier?

“There he is.” You choked out. His face softened at the sound of your broken words, but before he could slip back to Bucky Barnes your bedroom door flew open. Sam and Nat came barreling out, guns drawn and ready to attack. When Nat realised what was happening she gasped.

Bucky involuntarily dropped you, eyes wide in shock. You tumbled to the ground, finding your footing quickly and taking the opportunity to send a sharp kick to Bucky’s chest, rocketing him back.

“Y/n I’m so sorry I don't know what happened.” A rouge tear escaped and rolled down his cheek only making your rage intensify.

“Oh, but I do. You may have everyone fooled around here. Hell, you had me for a moment there. But that's gone now. Dead. I see right through your act. It takes a monster to know one.” You scoffed, driving your point. And boy, was it a home run.

“Bucky, what the fuck!?” Nat snapped

“Are you okay, did he hurt you?” Sam was at your side, checking your neck for any injuries. You healed quickly, and so only a faint pink line wrapped around your throat, the only reminder of the scene that had just played out.

“Fine.” You mumbled, brushing the dirt off your pants.

“Y/n, let me explain-”

“You're still here? Nah, man, stop talking. Get the fuck out of here.” Sam scoffed, looking at Bucky's broken frame. You didn't need the Falcon to fight your battles, besides you had won this one already.

Bucky signed, knowing this was over. Nat eyed Sam while she walked the damaged man out of the hallway.

“You sure you're okay?” Sam spoke when they were finally out of sight. You nodded, feeling your heart begin to pick up speed at the distance that was now between you and Bucky.

“Okay, let's get you out of here for a little bit.”

You followed Sam through the compound and out into the scorching African heat. Your mind was still fuzzy from your moment you had shared the Winter Soldier, your legs feeling like jelly. Maybe you should have taken your doctor's advice and kept up with those therapy sessions because God damn if that wasn't the hottest thing that anyones ever done to you.

Like you said, it takes a monster to know one.

…………………….

“What the hell were you thinking?” Nat snapped, shoving Bucky into the kitchen. He didn't stumble, not like when you pushed him.

She wanted to see him. He thought, but did not dare utter the words.

“I don’t know Nat. She pushed a button, I lost control.”

“Lost control? You almost choked her to death.”

No he didn't. It takes six to seven minutes for brain cells to start dying. Ten for the eyes to start to pop out of their sockets before they would gasp their final-

No. God no. He could hear the monster's voice in the back of his head. Always lingering. You were right, he was always there. Always watching.

“But I didn't. So just drop it.” Bucky tried to change the subject but Natasha wasn't having any part.

“You need to get your shit together. What the hell is going on with you? First Y/n beats you within an inch of your life and now-”

“You don't know?” He was shocked. All this time he thought they were both in on it. He thought at the very least you would have told her.

“Know what?” She pressed.

“I did it. I killed him.” Natasha gapped at him so a moment before she cringed and looked away.

“Oh, god.”

......................................................................

A/N: Thank you for reading! And also shout out to @whateveriwant for her support and all her amazing advice. If you haven't already, go check out her work. I feel like I drew a little dark Bucky inspiration from a few of her fics. As always feedback is welcomed! Reblog and like if you feel so inclined!

@kalesrebellion

@projectcampbell

@calwitch

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iam93percentstardust · 5 years ago

Note

Allie! I am such a big fan of your writing. Your ficlets never fail to hit me right in the heart. Could I request a fic with stevetony + "Don't touch him." ? Only do it if you want to, though, no pressure whatsoever. Thank you so much for your beautiful writing.

Of course I want to! Thank you for being so sweet! 💙I wanna write more mob au so here’s how they met:

“Don’t touch him.”

Tony has had what might be the longest day of his life. Grad school shouldn’t be this hard. School has never been this hard for him and it isn’t even his project that’s causing the problem! It’s Dr. Martin. Fucking Dr. Martin who thinks it’s okay to interrupt his presentation and judge him for how his data looks.

“Well, at least it’s pretty,” Dr. Martin had sneered condescendingly like Tony hadn’t been breaking all the known laws of robotics with DUM-E.

He’s known since he stepped foot on campus that Dr. Martin has a problem with him but he would have never thought that the guy would go so far as to try to sabotage Tony’s seminar presentation.

Dick.

He presses his glass against his forehead, trying to calm himself down before he does something drastic and stupid - like setting Dr. Martin’s office on fire. He doesn’t have Howard’s protection anymore, gave it all up when he left New York to set out on his own.

Yeah, it’s been a long day and it only gets worse when some guy sits down next to him and starts babbling about the quality of the grapes in the beer. Doesn’t this idiot know that there are no grapes in beer?

He thinks about telling him that that’s wine he’s thinking of but he instead decides to just ignore him - right up until the guy puts a hand on his arm. Tony blinks at it, puts his glass down, and then very slowly says, “Get your hand off of me.”

He knows he doesn’t have Howard’s silkily dangerous quality to his voice yet but he still isn’t expecting the guy to laugh him off, “What a kidder!”

Tony narrows his eyes. “I said, ‘Get your hand off of me.’”

“Oh come on. You can’t be serious,” the guy says. “You’ve been sending me signals all night.”

What fucking signals? Tony’s been staring into his glass all night. He sighs, preparing to get himself thrown out of his favorite bar for having to take care of this asshole.

Then someone demands, in a voice that sounds just as hard and dangerous as Howard does, “Don’t touch him.”

“What?” the guy asks.

“What?” Tony asks, turning slightly to try to catch a glimpse of the newcomer. Oh. That’s - that’s Steve Rogers. Tony knows him, remembers that ridiculous presentation Obie had put together a couple years back about the new kid on the block. He’s the one that’s been encroaching on Stark territory, the reason Tony decided to leave the family business.

What is he doing in Boston?

The idiot recovers quickly enough and says, “Hey, I saw him first.”

Rogers raises an unamused eyebrow. “I don’t care if you saw him first. He told you not to touch him so. Don’t. Touch. Him.”

The guy peers at him and then glances at Tony like he’s expecting Tony to say something. He obliges him.

“Shoo.”

The guy mutters something about how they’re both going to regret this but leaves.

“Yeah, yeah,” Tony says lazily. He steals another look at Rogers. Good lord but his muscles have muscles, don’t they? “Tony Stark.”

“Steve Rogers.”

“Yeah, I know. What brings you to Boston, Mr. Rogers?”

Rogers waves the bartender over. “Whiskey neat,” he orders. To Tony, he says, “Vacation.”

“Lie,” Tony comments. “What really brings you here?”

“No, I’m really here on vacation.” Tony gives him a deeply unimpressed look and Rogers sighs. “I’m meeting with the O’Donoghues but my lieutenant really did tell me to take a couple days off.”

“And you just so happened to end up in my bar?”

Rogers shrugs unconcernedly. “Might be a coincidence. Might not. Have a drink with me?”

“What makes you think I want to drink with you anymore than I wanted to drink with that idiot?” Tony asks.

“For one thing, I’m not going to tell you about the grapes in this whiskey,” Rogers says with a conspiratorial grin. Tony can’t help but laugh. “Come on, I’ve got a private table and everything. Just hear me out and if you don’t like what I have to say, I’ll cut you loose. No harm, no foul.”

Tony drums his fingers on the bar for a moment, considering his offer. Oh what the hell. He’s curious to know what Rogers wants from him and besides, he’s never had a lick of self-preservation. “Five minutes. That’s all I’m giving you.”

“Five minutes,” Rogers agrees. The bartender passes him his drink. Rogers looks at it for a second. “We’ll take the bottle.”

#stevetony #alle writes #alle answers #mob au #if you like please consider reblogging #maguna-stxrk

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atmilliways · 4 years ago

Note

As long as anybody didn’t find out, Pickles figured the worst scenarios he had conjured in his head would never happen.

[send me a sentence and i’ll write the next five or more lines]

You got it! This... turned out longer than five more lines, lol.

Snakes N Barrels era Charles/Pickles. Warning for one night stands, drug and alcohol mentions, questionable disguises, and Charles hitting the club with a briefcase that contains a book and condoms (just in case).

Bottles & Bodies

As long as nobody found out, Pickles figured the worst scenarios he had conjured in his head would never happen. The gossip, the cold shoulders, the colder looks . . . all the shit he’d left behind in Wisconsin, but would be so much worse to encounter again now, here, in the fucking tabloids and the faces of his bandmates, because he actually liked this life.

It wasn’t like he was ever going to fool around with any of the guys, even if Tony was pretty cute. As far as Pickles could tell none of the guys ate from both sides of the buffet anyway, and as a general rule the groupies were always girls, so it was easy enough to compartmentalize. When he was being Pickles, the rockstar, in his red gloves and makeup and tight, low-riding jeans, he hit on chicks; when he snuck out to gay bars as Pickles, just some dude, with his blue wristbands and no eyeliner or eyeshadow and slightly less teased hair and even tighter, sluttier jeans, he hit on dudes.

And usually, just to be on the safe side, he picked guys too loaded to pick him out of a lineup later.

So why. Why the fuck. Had he picked the most straight-laced looking guy in this bar to sidle up to and ask if he could buy him a drink?

Probably had something to do with the fact that he was a little cross faded on weed and booze. . . . But mostly it was that the guy—young, probably not much older than he was—was hot, and he’d wanted to so he’d gone in the bathroom to snort a little coke until it seemed like a better idea.

Hot in a preppy sort of way, admittedly, with the glasses and the blazer and the nearly combed hair, nursing a scotch and soda while reading something and taking notes in a steno pad at a small table in the corner. But once you got past that part, there was a serious set of his jaw, an intensity to his gaze as he focused on what he was reading despite the noise of the crowd, and a firm decisiveness in his hands that Pickles had found himself obsessing over in stolen glances for the past half an hour. Good shoulders, too, and Pickles suspected he was pretty fine under that blazer and button-down.

Pickles grabbed a chair from a nearby table and sat in it without bothering to turn it around, folding his arms across the top of it and grinning at the handsome stranger. “Hey, whatcha reading?”

“Naming, Necessity, and Natural Kinds, by Stephen P. Schwartz,” the guy reeled off automatically. When this wasn’t immediately followed by Pickles losing interest and wandering off, he glanced up and did a double take. “Wait. You’re, ah, Pickles. From Snakes N Barrels.”

For a fraction of a second, Pickles did his best impression of a deer in the headlights. Because yeah, lack of stage makeup wasn’t much of a disguise, but no one had ever actually called him on it before.

Then he recovered, and all his experience in bullshitting and performing under pressure kicked in. Pickles turned the wattage on his smile up a notch. “Heh, y’think? I could just be a handsome, sexy lookalike.”

The guy shook his head while still staring. “I’ve been to your shows,” he said with unshakable conviction. “I know it’s you.”

Without meaning to, Pickles laughed. “You have? Really?” He let his eyes rake pointedly up and down the other man, since he wanted to anyway. What he saw did not, in any way, scream Snakes N Barrels fan. For one thing, there was an honest to god briefcase wedged under his chair between his nice leather shoes. Not enough piercings or tats, for another—not that he could see at least, to which his lizard brain slyly added Yet.

After waiting patiently for his eyes to wander back up, the guy said seriously, “Really. You, ah.” Suddenly his confidence seemed to waver, even if his conviction didn’t, and he looked down at his book. “You stand out.”

Pickles considered. He wasn’t thinking too good at this point, which might possibly present a flaw in his whole ‘compartmentalization’ plan. . . . But he had a pretty good radar for when people were interested, and this guy was definitely pinging on it. And somehow, he didn’t really think that someone who’d brought heavy reading to a hookup den was the type to try blackmailing a celebrity in the bisexual closet. People like that had better things to do, right?

It didn’t mean everyone would find out.

He drummed his fingers on the top of his chair, barely heard it over the ambient noise of the bar around them, shrugged. What the hell. “Okay, you got me,” he said with a smirk, one he knew for a fact was particularly winning. Under the table, he stretched his leg out and rubbed the toe of one sneaker against the other man’s calf. “This your first brush with fame or are you jest happy to see me?”

There was a twitch of surprise at the sudden contact, but otherwise the guy held his ground. “Well, I, ah.” His face was reddening, though. “I like your, ah . . . music.”

“Thanks, dood.” With a wink, Pickles added, “What’s yer name, since you already know mine?”

“Charles.”

“Nice name,” he said, still feeling up the back of Charles’ leg with his foot. “So hey, Charlie. Wanna go appreciate my ‘music’ somewhere private?”

It was a stupid line and probably shouldn’t have worked, but the guy nodded and shut his book, using the steno pad as a bookmark. Pickles took the liberty of finishing the last of the stranger’s scotch and soda before getting up to leave the bar; Charles stowed his book in his briefcase and followed.

Stupid, impulsive, thinking with his dick instead of his brain as usual. . . . But hey, a guy’s gotta eat. Otherwise what was the point of it all, right?

They got a motel room a few blocks away, but not until after Pickles had pushed Charles against a few darkened brick walls along the way to give him a test drive. Charles kissed back hard, eagerly, like this was some sort of fantasy he’d never dreamed he’d get to live out. His hands ran down Pickles’ back to grab his ass and fuck he was unexpectedly strong. Pickles felt his feet practically leave the ground, literally, and moaned into it.

By the time they got into a room (which Charles had gamely gone into the motel office by himself to pay for), Pickles had him one zip away from pants-off. That was quickly taken care of, and shirt buttons undone, and sure enough, what he found underneath the crisp white shirt lived up to expectations and then some. Pickles dropped to his knees, shivering in approval when Charles’ hands went straight into his hair. He was less appreciative when he was held back from leaning forward.

“I, ah,” Charles panted, staring down at him with bruised lips and desire in his eyes. “I have condoms in, in my briefcase.”

Pickles quirked an eyebrow. “Seriously?”

“Well, it’s. . . . I mean, because, the bar. You, ah, never know, right?”

Probably smart.

Pickles rolled his eyes but got the condom, rolled it on with his mouth, and proceeded to suck his new friend’s brain out into the protective latex. Then he tossed Charles a washcloth and a fresh Trojan and put on a show of peeling out of the tight jeans and tight t-shirt, making strategic use of the motel lotion until they could get the new condom on and Pickles climbed atop him. He eased down with his head thrown back, scrambling without looking to find Charles’ hands and press them to his hips while his head floated and spun, the perfect high. At one point he realized that Charles had flipped them over, so smoothly he hadn’t even noticed, bending Pickles bare feet effortlessly back his ears as he thrust into him with the steadiness of a drumbeat, and it all felt so fucking good.

The other stuff was good too—the rush of being onstage, free booze and drugs, groupies whenever he wanted—but there was something in this that he needed just as much. Couldn’t give up one any more than the other, got the shakes if he went too long without it. He’d picked a good one tonight, too. Unlike his usual fare, Charles didn’t seem to be any more than slightly buzzed. Usually Pickles would be offering to share a little bit of his coke right now just to keep his pick of the night awake and functioning; instead, he was being steadily, blissfully fucked into the mattress with a controlled pressure that carried no hint of sloppiness, no possibility of passing out halfway through. Which was . . . kind of a first, and kind of felt like the best sex he’d ever had (without being on the really hard shit, at least, where it was more about the trip than the actual fucking anyway).

He almost wanted to offer a few lines anyway, just so this could go on all night. . . . But it hadn’t been all that long ago that he couldn’t afford to share, and old habits died hard, so he didn’t.

At one point Charles was sprawled across the bed, head resting on Pickles’ thigh as the musician leaned back against the pillows and well-rattled headboard, idly twisting short brown hair into tiny braids that wouldn’t stay. Charles’ eyes were mostly closed when he asked, matter of factly, “I’m not going to see you again, am I?”

Pickles chewed on the inside of his cheek for a moment before conceding, “Yeah, prahbly naht.” He yawned, then grimaced—damn accent always thickened up on him when he was tired or coming down, and right now he was both. “Sahhry. I mean, you can still come to shows and stuff, but. . . .”

“No, it’s fine. I understand.” Charles rolled over onto his elbows, looking up at Pickles. “Knowing it’s a one time thing takes, ah, takes some of the pressure off. I’m not, ah, very good at . . . this sort of thing, usually.” He paused, looking faintly embarrassed. “I, ah, say things like that, for example.”

“Dood, me neither,” Pickles said with a laugh. It was true, and he was a little relieved to hear the sentiment echoed by the other man. He wondered, briefly, if Charles would get all weird if he admitted that he slept with women too. A lot of guys did. But that was a mistake you only made . . . five, maybe eight times, outside of doing it on purpose to make sure these trysts ended when he needed them to. Not necessary in this case, where they both already seemed to be on the same page. He yawned again.

Men or women, all of his relationships came with an expiration date that could usually be measured in hours, and that mostly didn’t bother him because there were always others waiting when he turned around. Maybe he was kind of bummed to know that he’d never see this guy again, but he’d wake up in the morning and move on. There would always be another body to tumble into the next time he turned around to scratch this particular itch.

Several years later, past the band breaking up, past numerous auditions and brief stints as frontman for other groups that never really seemed to stick, after getting over the crushing reality of defeat and admitting to himself that he’d never be able to get his voice to go as heavy as he wanted, Pickles tapped the creased business card Nathan had given him on the edge of the desk and said, “So. . . . Hey.”

“Hi,” Charles replied blandly. His hairline was showing signs of beginning a slow retreat, there were lines around his mouth and eyes that hadn’t been there before, and he looked very professional and joyless in his gray suit and power tie, but it was definitely him. “So. You, ah, have a new band now.”

“Yep.” Pickles tapped the card on the desk again. It had been a very long time since he’d wondered any time he’d seen the name Charles or any of the variations if it would turn out to be that Charles. . . . Honestly, he’d probably only done it for a few weeks before the booze and drugs had washed away any certainty that he’d even remembered the name right. He definitely hadn’t walked into this appointment with a potential manager for the newly formed Dethklok expecting this blast from the past.

“And you’re . . . not the frontman.”

That wasn’t phrased as a question, so Pickles just shrugged. “Yeah, that’s Nathan. He’s the one who called. He’d’ve come, but he had work today, so, y’know. Here I am.” He shrugged again. “I’m the drummer.”

“I, ah, see.” Charles wrote something on his steno pad. It was, upon craning very unsubtly to see, the words Pickles the Drummer. “Nathan didn’t, ah, mention that over the phone.”

“Yeah, he’s not real chatty. Good guy though.” Pickles saw the faintest hint of questioning look and felt a sudden, uncharacteristic surge of embarrassed defensiveness over, essentially, nothing. “Not that he’s, I mean, we aren’t, no way, uh, no.”

Fuck, he regretted ever learning how to talk as a kid. But he’d never been stuck in a conversation with someone who had this particular dirt on him before—even though, technically, he had the same dirt on Charles. The 90’s were almost less forgiving of that shit than the 80’s had been, in their own way. Anxious and fidgety, Pickles started patting his pockets, looking for cigarettes or something.

Charles put his pen down with a sigh and took off his glasses, studiously wiping them with a handkerchief. They hadn’t seemed dirty a second ago.

“Pickles. . . . If you’re worried about, ah, my discretion, I can assure you that I am a professional. We don’t have to discuss our, ah, shared. . . . The fact that we’ve met before. With your band mates, or even with each other, unless you chose to do so. Either way, you can consider that information, ah, confidential.” The handkerchief disappeared into a pocket, and Charles put his glasses back on. “And I, ah, hope that you would do me the same courtesy. Particularly if I do become Dethklok’s manager.”

There the damn smokes were. Pickles tugged the squashed, mostly empty pack out of his back pocket, but paused in the middle of shaking one out as the words sank in. “. . . Wait, you really wanna manage us?”

“Of course. The demo tape you sent me showed a huge amount of promise, especially considering it wasn’t recorded professionally.”

“Damn right it wasn’t,” Pickles scoffed, jamming the cigarette in his mouth and distractedly resuming his self-frisking, this time for a lighter. “Had to record it on a fuckin’ two year old Talkboy that Magnus stole from his niece. Thing’s a piece of shit. Where’d I fuckin’ put—”

A flick of a lighter snagged his attention, and he glanced up to see Charles holding one, already lit. It was one of the windproof ones, matte black and heavy looking. Metal, Pickles thought, and leaned forward to touch the tip of his cigarette to the lick of flame, wondering idly if it was monogrammed. He tried to remember if they’d smoked anything that night, but came up blank and felt . . . weirdly disappointed in himself for not knowing.

“You want one?” he asked, and hoped he sounded casual instead of probing.

Charles shook his head. “No, I don’t smoke, I just, ah, just work with a lot of people who do.”

Pickles sat back, taking a deep drag and sighing out smoke. It was strange how this encounter was making him a little nostalgic—or maybe just making him stupid. Sure, that one night stand still stood out in his memory as the best sex he’d ever had, but it had only been one night. They didn’t actually know each other, probably didn’t have anything in common. In the space of this one meeting they’d probably exchanged more words than they had back then. But. . . .

There was something about Charles, even older. Even in that boring suit. A flicker of something—subdued interest, maybe?—dancing behind the flame as he’d conscientiously offered to light Pickles’ cigarette.

He hadn’t felt the itch for a while, but something about Charles suddenly had him itching like crazy.

“. . . Okay then, chief. We need a manager, you want to manage us, sounds like a good deal to me.” Pickles took a long drag on his cigarette and then smirked, one he knew for a fact was particularly winning. Just because the wristbands he had on now were black, his hair was tamped down into dreadlocks and his goatee long shaved off, and his jeans were loose enough to give his balls some room to breathe, that didn’t mean he couldn’t still live a little.

After all, he didn’t have any stage make-up on. That made him, for the moment, just some dude. And Charles, well . . . he could clearly keep a secret. It didn’t mean anyone would find out.

Pickles leaned forward, resting both elbows on the edge of Charles’ desk as he said, “Why don’t you tell me what you like about my music?”

#metalocalypse #metalocalypse fanfic #chickles #chuckles #charles/pickles #snakes n barrels era pickles

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cinnatales · 4 years ago

Text

Exposure Ch. 1

Summary: Beaten down detective Sebastian Castellanos is at the end of his rope. The ruins of his family have left him in shambles, and only the comfort of a glass of whiskey can make the days more bearable. Though, a deadly encounter in the middle of the night marks new beginnings, dragging him further down into the case on Krimson City’s serial killer.

With headless victims turning up frequently, and dead ends that mark a mastermind of a murderer, Sebastian is challenged left and right with this case. As he’s thrown into obsession, and the killer’s interest in him grows sicker and sicker, one man seems to tie it all together: an infamous artist known as Stefano Valentini.

He just might be the key to solving this case.

______________________________________________________________

It’s a lonely night in Krimson City, a sliver of the moon the only beacon of light piercing through the inky depths of the sky. Sebastian’s boots clack softly against concrete, his hands stuffed within the depths of his worn trench coat as he wanders the streets. He travels the roads currently untouched by crowds and traffic, devoid of the usual bustling of life within the hours of daylight. It leaves the detective alone with his thoughts, with memories and reminiscing.

Of better times, of Myra’s goodbye letter, of Lily’s screams in his nightmares.

He’s disappointed in himself, disappointed that he only finds sleep at the bottom of an empty bottle nowadays, but he cannot handle being left alone with memories of them. Without it, without a distraction, he’d lie awake in bed for hours, sometimes staring up at the ceiling or the far wall, sometimes with his eyes squeezed shut as he tosses and turns. He’s haunted by her face every night, of flesh melting away, of eyes burning red, of charcoal stained hands gripping at his shoulders.

Always too late.

He huffs out a shaky breath, steps nearly faltering. God, he needs a drink, just a little farther and he’ll be at the downtown-

Click.

Brown hues lift at the soft shutter through the air, head raising as he inspects his surroundings. He’s almost believing it’s his imagination, a figment of his sleep deprived mind when-

Click.

He hears it again. A flash of white light accompanies it, spilling out from a shrouded alleyway. Sebastian’s feet move on their own accord, dragging him towards the source like a moth drawn to a flame. Who the hell is taking pictures at this hour? And within an alleyway no less?

That’s when a tang of copper hits his nose, intertwined with the underlying sweet, familiar scent of rot. On instinct, his hand is hovering over his revolver, nerves bristling at attention.

He’s pausing right at the mouth of the alleyway, brows furrowing as he takes a shaky breath through his nose. In one swift motion he’s turning down the corner. What greets him is the carnage of a young woman. A headless corpse lied out across pavement, rivets of red spilling from the juncture of her severed neck, staining her yellow dress. Rose petals decorate her, pale hands clutching at a bouquet, pressing it to her chest. Standing before the flowery slaughter is a man dressed in black, a gloved hand framing his camera as it obscures his face.

The man jerks at the sight of Sebastian, and then there’s a glint of silver, a flick of his wrist. Sebastian is ripping out his revolver, when his left shoulder is suddenly giving out, igniting with a searing pain. His gun clatters to the ground, teeth gritting together as he bites back a cry.

Click.

He’s blinded by the flash of light, forcing his eyes shut as he jerks his arm up in defense. A sadistic chuckle taints the air, before there’s the retreating clacks of dress shoes. He’s blinking several times in desperation, his vision coming back to him right as the maniac’s back disappears behind a corner.

“Stop!” He yells, chasing after him despite the agony coursing through his shoulder, at how it nearly makes his boots drag. When he rounds the corner with shaky breaths, the man is gone.

…

The soft beeps of a heart monitor fill Sebastian’s ears, distracting him from the nurse’s gloved fingers as she checks over the stitches in his shoulder. After a brief moment of poking and prodding, she’s dressing the sutured wound with a soft hum.

“Alright Mr. Castellanos, you should be good to go. Make sure to keep your stitches dry for at least 48 hours, and keep them clean. We wouldn’t want you to end up back in here because of an infection! And please, don’t put any strain on your shoulder.”

The detective simply grunts in acknowledgement, eager to get back on his feet and leave this sterile cage as soon as possible. He never was fond of hospitals and two days was certainly long enough for him.

“Your friend also brought in a change of clothes for you. He’s waiting for you out in the lobby.”

Sebastian waves her off with a tired, “Thanks.” before taking the bundle of folded clothes that is presented to him.

He’s shuffling off into the bathroom, the door closing behind him with a soft click, ensuring him with a bit of privacy for the time being. His gaze rests upon his reflection, black ringed eyes staring wearily back at him from the mirror. He sheds the hospital gown with careful fingers, revealing the square of white protecting his newly acquired stitches.

The man’s taunting laughter echoes in his ears, the headless body of that poor woman stained behind his eyelids. It was him; he’d recognize that work anywhere, his crimes pasted front right and center upon every newspaper and tabloid. The serial killer plaguing Krimson City.

He had him, he was so close to putting an end to his reign of bloodshed, and yet he failed. If only he had been faster, more prepared, then perhaps that blade wouldn’t have punctured his shoulder and that bastard wouldn’t have gotten away. How the hell did he even do that? Who the hell throws knives with such unnatural precision? The whole thing is downright insane.

And... Why was he taking pictures of the victim?

With a sigh, he’s tugging on his new shirt, wincing ever so slightly when he jostles his shoulder. He better not keep Joseph waiting.

…

Rain drops pelt against the standard issued police car, windshield wipers rapidly whisking droplets away, keeping a clear view of the road as thunder booms overhead. The bitter aroma of coffee wafts through the interior, settling over Sebastian and his partner Joseph. Sebastian’s hands are warmed by the paper cup clasped within them, that heavy fog of weariness beginning to part as caffeine courses through his veins.

He really needed that.

“Hey... Are you doing alright?” Joseph’s voice is... Careful, as if Sebastian is a ticking time bomb, ready to go off at the slightest movement.

He doesn’t blame Joseph for his wary approach, he hasn’t spoken to him properly in weeks aside from work, and frankly, he’s grown used to tight smiles and pitying eyes.

“Besides having to spend two days in a hospital and being knifed by a psychopath? I’m fine. It’s a little difficult to move my shoulder, but it’s nothing I can’t handle,” He assures, before taking a long sip from his coffee.

Joseph nods, a small sigh escaping his lips, “I’m glad to hear it.”

They lapse into silence, having Sebastian fidget in his seat, fingers drumming against the paper cup. It’s uncomfortable, the quietness between him and Joseph. It was never like this before.

“Thanks...” Sebastian breaks through suddenly, eyes kept pointedly to the towering buildings drifting by, “I mean it, you didn’t have to do all of this. You really are a life saver.”

There’s no response, and for a moment, Sebastian believes that he won’t be answered at all. That is, until he’s glancing over, catching sight of the small smile brightening his partner’s face. It’s definitely a welcomed sight.

“Yeah... It’s no problem,” Joseph states, pleased and reclining back against the car seat, almost like old times, “I just figured you’d need a little pick me up before you see the chief.”

And as quickly as it comes, the warmth within Sebastian’s chest dispels, his mood souring. He almost scoffs at the mention of the chief, and the fact that he is being called in again. It doesn’t help that Joseph is the one to deliver the news.

“The chief wants to see me? I wonder what I did this time,” He remarks dryly, almost accusingly.

Joseph goes rigid, quickly realizing his mistake, his lips pursing into a thin line, “Sebastian... I-”

“I know, you don’t have to tell me again. It was for my ‘own good’, even if my work remained unaffected.”

Joseph’s hands tighten against the steering wheel, eyes going dark as he grits out, “Has it ever occurred to you that I wasn’t worried about your work? That I was worried about you?”

Sebastian pauses at that, taken aback.

“I still am, you know. I only reported you because... You were falling apart. You quietly sink into a bottle and-”

“Joseph-” He bites out.

“And pretend everything is fine when it isn’t! You were out late that night, you called for help at nearly 3 o’clock in the morning. Don’t tell me you were just going out on a ‘nightly stroll’. Can’t you just think about your life for a second?”

“That’s enough!” Sebastian snaps, his hand squeezing around the coffee cup, threatening to crush it into a scalding mess, “I’m not in the mood for a fucking interrogation! It hardly matters. Not when another girl is dead.”

Joseph goes quiet, leaving Sebastian to stew in an uncomfortable silence once more. He’s left glancing over at his partner, and when he does, a lump gathers in his throat. Joseph’s expression is grave, brow creased in defeat.

“Joseph I-”

“Listen. I know it’s none of my business, but... I’m just concerned about you, Seb. That’s all. I just wish you’d talk to me,” Joseph sighs out quietly.

Guilt prickles within Sebastian’s heart. He’s huffing out a shuddering sigh, almost tempted to spill his hardships, about how difficult it is to just… Keep going. But... Joseph doesn’t deserve that, he deserves a solid partner, and Sebastian is only going to weigh him down.

And so, he’s forcing out, “I’m fine, Joseph.”

Joseph’s mouth opens as if to protest, but nothing comes out. Instead, he’s closing it, giving a curt nod and resigning to the heavy silence.

Mercifully, it doesn’t take too long after that to reach the KCPD. As Joseph pulls the car up into the parking lot, Sebastian takes note of the small gathering that has swarmed in front of the police department. Of course, the press.

“Not even the rain deters them.” Sebastian mutters under his breath.

His partner gives him a sideways glance before he’s exiting the car, Sebastian following suit almost immediately. The downpour soaks into Sebastian’s vest and dress shirt, his bangs falling in front of his eyes as it’s weighed down by water. Cameras flash as the two approach the crowd, microphones being shoved into Sebastian’s face as he’s bombarded by questions.

“Are there any new leads on Krimson City’s serial killer?”

“What can you tell us about the fourth victim?”

He squints against the harsh lights, his face twisting into a grimace as he swallows down a curse. He’s beginning to really hate having his picture taken.

“No comment,” His voice is firm as he attempts to get by them, but they’re ever persistent at blocking his path.

“What does this killer look like?” Another reporter pipes up.

“I couldn’t see his face.” He’s attempting to shove through them once more, but he’s halted by another eager journalist.

“How did you feel when you found that headless body?”

“As any other normal person would feel,” What kind of question is that? It’s getting harder and harder not to tell all of these reporters to fuck off. Why can’t they just leave him alone?

“Why did you let the killer get away?”

Sebastian stiffens as if he’s been socked right in the gut. That particular question stings, like rubbing salt into an open wound, serving as a bitter reminder of what he couldn’t do. It’s not as if he meant to let that bastard go. They hadn’t been there. They don’t know what it was like. God, he’s had enough of these people. Though, right as he’s about to give them a piece of his mind, Joseph steps in.

“That’s enough questions!” His partner intervenes, grabbing Sebastian’s wrist as he pushes through them, “Lock your doors, and don’t go out alone at night. We are going to do everything in our power to catch him.”

More questions are thrown their way, but Joesph and Sebastian manage to fight through and get into the police department at last.

The two breathe out a sigh of relief once they’ve made it in. Sebastian’s shoulders and hair are thoroughly damp. The nurse’s words ring in his head, keep those stitches dry, but he can’t really bring himself to care at the moment. He’s reaching up, fingers brushing through his brown locks in an attempt to dry it. Joseph isn’t in much better shape either, left smoothing out the front of his uniform, before wiping at his glasses. It’s almost a comical sight.

“It looks like I owe you again. I was about to make a fool out of myself.”

Joseph’s head raises at that, “You can thank me by just taking care of yourself.”

Sebastian is silent, busying himself with finishing off the last of his coffee, before tossing the paper cup into the bin. “I do take care of myself.” He mutters at last.

“And how do you define ‘taking care of yourself’?” Joseph asks with a raised brow.

“I’m really not in the mood for this.”

Joseph stares at Sebastian for a long moment, disapproval written all over his down turned lips and steely eyes. Sebastian stares right back, his glare sending a clear message, drop it.

That’s when Joseph breaks eye contact, huffing out a long sigh, “Alright… We can talk about it later. Kidman and I will be waiting in your office once you’re done speaking to the chief. We’ll catch you up on everything that’s happened over the last two days.”

We are not going to have a talk about this later, he almost bites out, but he manages to hold his tongue. Instead, his expression is kept carefully neutral as he simply gives his partner a nod, before parting from his side. Though, even with how annoyed he is, he can’t deny the shame squeezing at his chest.

The precinct is filled with the shrill rings of phone calls, along with the sharp scribbles of pencil to paper and the clacks of keyboards. Sebastian passes by several of his coworkers, either seated at the packed nooks of desks, or hovering around close to their offices. Most give him warm, sympathetic smiles, which he returns with a small nod of his head.

Hopefully, he doesn’t get another lecture. He can only hope.

The chief's office door stands tall and foreboding, Chief of Police written in black letters against clouded glass. Sebastian sucks in a quiet breath, straightening up before stepping inside. The chief is sat behind his desk, nose buried within a stack of papers, before his gaze lifts at the detective’s entrance. He’s clearing his throat, brows furrowing as his eyes settle on Sebastian.

“Castellanos.” He greets gruffly.

“Chief Perrin.” Sebastian returns, “You wanted to see me?”

“Yeah, I want to know what the hell happened out there,” The chief gripes, “You couldn’t catch him? Couldn’t even see his face?”

Sebastian sighs, “Look, I’m just as disappointed as you are. It happened so fast-”

“I don’t want any excuses, Castellanos!” The chief's hands are slamming against wood, his papers fluttering against the outburst, “This maniac already has four bodies to his name, and you could’ve had him. I’m beginning to question just how incompetent you are, and whether I should’ve put you on this case to begin with.”

Sebastian remains unfazed, his voice raising, “Sir, let me assure you that I am competent. I was caught off guard, I wasn’t expecting-“

“Tell me one thing, Castellanos.” The chief cuts in without batting an eye, “Were you intoxicated that night?”

A cold ball sinks to the bottom of Sebastian’s stomach. “No. I was sober.”

The chief doesn’t appear convinced, much to Sebastian’s distain, “What were you doing parading around the city in the middle of the night?”

“I...” Sebastian hesitates for a brief moment, before his brows are furrowing, “I couldn’t sleep, so I took a walk.”

“Were you going to the bar?”

“What the hell is your point?” Sebastian nearly snaps, hands balling into fists.

“My point is, Castellanos, if you cannot get your god damn act together, you’re going to have more to worry about than just getting taken off of this case.”

Sebastian’s teeth grit together, managing to at least suppress his anger.

“Am I making myself clear?”

“Yes, I read you loud and clear,” Sebastian answers begrudgingly.

The chief waves him off with disinterest, his eyes already landing back upon his documents, “Alright. Now get out of my sight. You’ve got a lot of work ahead of you.”

Sebastian doesn’t need to be told twice, more than eager to leave. He’s turning on his heel without another word. Once the door is shut behind him, he’s huffing out a heavy breath.

God damn it.

His hands are lifting to his face, suppressing the urge to kick out the waste bin next to him. He’s so sick of this shit. The chief- No, they all needed to mind their own fucking business. They don’t understand what the hell he’s going through. He just wants to do his job, to be left alone. Is that so much to ask?

He’s cursing as he gets himself together, before he’s managing to straighten up. His eyes settle upon the police department as he reminds himself to keep calm, to breathe. The memory of that night flickers through his mind’s eye once more, keeping him grounded, focused on his goal.

Taunting laughter, a headless woman with roses. The knife, the camera.

With one final calming breath, he’s striding through the station with new found vigor.

It doesn’t matter. He has a killer to catch.

#the evil within 2 #the evil within #sebastian castellanos #stefano valentini #steseb #gore tw #alcohol tw #hope it’s ok?

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propertyofnikkisthighs · 5 years ago

Text

She’s My Collar pt. 3

Trigger warning: Mentions of domestic abuse

“It’s been 3 days Riv. You’re gonna have to talk to me about what the fuck happened the other day.” Tommy says standing on my balcony smoking a cigarette.

How do I even begin to explain myself though? I swipe his pack of cigarettes off the railing and light one taking a drag. Tommy raises an eyebrow at my actions, but otherwise is non reactive to the nasty habit I’ve picked up and quit for what felt like a million times.

“I’ve known Kevin most of my life.” I start, my voice already beginning to shake. “He is a few years older than me and worked on my grandparent’s farm and I was head over heels for him. Like I used to follow him around as he cleaned the barns level in love because he was always so kind and sweet to me.”

Tommy just nods his head along and I continue.

“We got married right after I graduated high school and that was when he stopped being so sweet. He found he preferred cuddling a bottle of vodka at night a lot more than he liked cuddling up with me. Then, instead of hitting the bottles, he hit me.”

Tommy’s hand curls into a fist at his side and he blows hard out of his nose. “Go on” he says and I can tell he’s working on keeping his cool.

“When I found out I was pregnant the beatings stopped for a little bit. He, um, seemed really happy for a while and I really thought this was what we needed to be happy again. Boy was I wrong.” I hadn’t even realized tears were streaming down my face until I felt them hitting my trembling hands in my lap.

“He came home one night drunker than I had ever seen him and meaner than he had any right to be and just let loose on me. A neighbor heard me screaming thank god and called the cops or I might have died that night along with our baby. We come from a pretty small town so there wasn’t much help for me to leave him, most people thought it wasn’t their business. About a month later I took every last dime I had, all the clothes I could carry, and left my ring and the life I had under ‘Rebecca’ there and came to L.A.. That was about a year ago.”

I looked down to see Tommy had silently slipped his hands into mine as I was recounting the story that I had hoped to never have to explain to anybody. He rubbed his thumb against the back of my hand and took a deep breath.

“I promise you Riv, I will kill him if he so much as looks at you again.” I’m soon crushed against Tommy’s chest in a tight hug and I would be lying if I said it wasn’t the safest I had ever felt in the last year. Hell, the last few years.

“Thank you Tommy, but I don’t want you boys to get caught in the crossfire.”

“What else will you do then?” He asks quietly.

“Probably pack up and move elsewhere. Somewhere he can’t find me.”

“No.” Tommy says standing straight up. “No you can’t leave Riv we just started being friends.” He paces back and forth on the small balcony while lighting another cigarette.

“You guys are on your way to doing big shit T-Bone. I can’t get in the way of that.”

“That’s even more of a reason to let the guys and I protect you?” He says as if it’s obvious. “Besides, you’re our photographer. Who else is going to capture all the nudity on camera?”

“You know for a second there you weren’t a gross pig.” I try to not mirror Tommy’s face splitting grin, but I’m not that strong.

“Atta girl.” He bounces up and walks in my house as if he lives there and calls behind him “Come on let’s go to the diner for pancakes. My treat.” I didn’t question how he earned the money to pay this time. I knew it was rarely legal.

I double over laughing in the booth for nearly the tenth time at another story of the stupid shit Tommy has done. We’re the same age, but I can’t help but feel inferior in the life I’ve lived. Besides packing up and moving out of town to come to L.A. on a whim, I haven’t done anything exciting. Tommy has had enough experiences for two lives.

“So anyway Nikki comes up with the genius idea to stick our dicks in breakfast burritos to cover up any scent that we had just fucked these other chicks. Cause like our girlfriends couldn’t know right?” He pauses to sip his Coke and pours the rest of his Jack shooter into my coffee.

“Tommy Lee!” I scold in a hushed whisper.

“Let me finish my story. So anyway me, Sixx, and Vinnie are basically fucking these burritos in the back of my van at the ass crack of dawn to all go home to our girlfriends because Vince wanted to fuck a bride to be at her bachelorette party.” Tommy stuffs more pancakes into his shit eating grin.

“Tommy you guys are insane. How the hell am I friends with you lunatics? Mick is the least insane one and he’s hardly around.” I laugh sipping my spiked coffee wincing only a tiny bit at the burn of the whiskey.

“You just haven’t known Mick long enough. He gets crazy too.” He wags his eyebrows at me suggestively “And you get to capture those moments on film”

“Oh lucky me.” I feign excitement and he tosses a sugar packet hitting me in the face. The walk back to the apartment from the diner is filled with just as many laughs as our meal was and my cheeks are starting to hurt from smiling. Tommy has one arm slung around my shoulder while his other swings at his side besides when he takes a puff of his cigarette. Tommy is everything my parents would’ve hated to see me hanging around with, let alone being as close with him as we are now. He had long dark hair, wore make up, and the only real work ethic he had was put into his drumming (that’s not to say he didn’t have work ethic they just wouldn’t have seen it that way).

“Ya wanna know something Riv?” Tommy asks looking everywhere that isn’t at me.

“I wanna know everything at all times.” I joke and he hip checks me lightly. A grin spreads across his face and I wonder if his cheeks hurt like mine from smiling so much.

“You have huge eyes.” He says finally.

I stop in my tracks and stare at him mouth agape.

“Tommy Lee are you making fun of me?!” I shriek and he’s double over laughing at my expression.

“I’m kidding! Well kinda.” I shove at him lightly and begin to walk away, but his hand in mine stops me from leaving him to laugh on his own and we resume walking together to the apartment this time hand in hand.

“What I was actually gonna say was-” Tommy’s grip on my hand tightens and a scary look casts over his features.

I follow his line of sight to see Kevin speaking to the landlord that lived on the floor level. It looked like he hadn’t noticed us yet and I wanted to keep things that way. I tug Tommy’s hand trying to pull him up the stairs to our floor out of his line of sight.

“Oh am I interrupting date night?” I hear behind me. Busted.

“Kevin. Not now.” I hiss not wanting to draw any attention to us.

“I’m sorry did I your HUSBAND interrupt your date with your new fuck buddy?” Kevin raises his voice.

“I’m only going to tell you once dude, don’t fucking talk to her like that.” Tommy growls out between grit teeth.

“Hey nobody tells me how to talk to my fucking wife.” Kevin steps closer. Tommy doesn’t step back being that it’s hard to be intimidated by a man at least six inches shorter than you. “She left you bro. Get the fuck over it and move on.” Tommy had somehow maneuvered me behind him and positioned himself in front of me. Kevin clearly didn’t take kindly to that.

“Listen, dick head, I’m not leaving without my fucking wife. You can find someone new to fuck in a city like this. I guarantee she isn’t the only whore”

And that’s when I hear it, the sound of a fist connecting with a face and teeth clanking together. Tommy is on Kevin before I even have time to full process that a punch was thrown. Tommy had the element of surprise and uses that to his advantage to land a few good punches to Kevin’s face. Kevin’s foot connects with Tommy’s gut and gives him the opportunity to get up and land a few punches of his own.

“Guys please stop!” I’m shouting trying to get them off each other without getting hit. I know there’s nothing I can do physically so I do the only thing I can think of doing. And I scream for Nikki.

Nikki is pulling Tommy off of Kevin who looks worse for wear than I had ever seen him. Kevin’s lip is busted, he’s got a black eye forming, and there is blood coming from both a cut on the top of his nose and from his nose in general. Tommy has a small cut on his cheek, also what looks like a black eye coming, and is bleeding from somewhere inside his mouth because he spits blood on Kevin. Kevin charges at him again, but is knocked on his ass by Nikki kicking him square in the gut.

“Enough!” Nikki screams and a small part of me is scared by the sound.

I don’t bother to make sure Kevin is okay before I follow the boys up to our floor. I race into my own apartment to grab some painkillers, a washcloth, and a bag of frozen peas for Tommy. When I get into their apartment I see Tommy downing some whiskey from the bottle and he tries to smile at me and winces. I gently pluck the bottle from his hand and set it on the counter next to him. I run the washcloth under water and begin to clean the blood off his face. He hisses as I dab at the cut on his cheek and lip trying to be gentle so I don’t make the bleeding start again.

“Hey River, could you maybe not try to get my drummer killed?” Nikki jokes knocking back some of the whiskey. Tears well up in my eyes despite me knowing there’s no malice behind his words.

“I’m so sorry Tommy.” I sob tears cascading down my face.

“Hey, hey shhh” Tommy tries to console me by hugging me to him. “These things, they happen. Hang out with Sixx and I long enough and you’ll be bailing us out of jail in no time.”

“Fuck I’m surprised you haven’t already.” Nikki pipes up.

“This is all my fault if you wouldn’t have tried to stick up for me you wouldn’t have gotten hit.”

“I swung first.” He chuckles rubbing my back.

“Atta boy!” Nikki bellows and we all have a good laugh at that. “I don’t know about you guys, but I could sure use a fucking shot.” Tommy tosses back two painkillers and washes them down with a swig of whiskey offering the bottle to me.

“Fuck it.” I shrug and down two big gulps and pass the bottle to Nikki. He’s clapping me on the back while I hold the frozen peas to Tommy’s eye and pretend I can’t feel Tommy’s thumb rub tiny circles on my thigh where I’m standing between his legs. And I pretend the warmth I feel is from the alcohol and not because of the way he looks at me.

#she's my collar #mgk!tommy lee fan fic #mgk!tommy lee #douglas booth!nikki sixx #douglas booth!nikki sixx fanfic #daniel webber!vince neil fanfic #daniel webber!vince neil #iwan rheon!mick mars fanfic #iwan rheon!mick mars #the dirt fan fiction #motley crue fanfic #nikki sixx fanfic #tommy lee fanfic #vince neil fanfic #mick mars fanfic #tw: domestic abuse

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heyyy-hey-babyyy · 5 years ago

Text

Take Care

Summary: While on a hunt in West Virginia, the trio literally run into a group of campers. While on the search for some help they run into a new unknown foe.

Pairing: Dean X reader, Sam x Reader,

WARNINGS: Canon-typical violence, horror movie scenes

Wrong Turn (2003) Fusion with Supernatural

2457 words.

Notes: Please note that I changed the plot a bit, because some of it would not make sense if the main characters were Dean and Sam Winchester. Just saying.

Spoilers for Wrong Turn (2003) below.

The Impala screamed down the interstate, Dean drumming his fingers on the wheel, barely listening to Sam yammer on about the case we were heading toward. You smirked to yourself, one ear bud in your ear so you could hear the boys up front, and caught Dean throw you a wink in the rear-view window.

“So it looks like at least three people have gone missing in the last few days, two of them skilled free climbers. They haven’t found any bodies or proof that either of them were even there. Not even a vehicle.” Sam finished glancing up at the road from his phone a distant look in his eyes.

“How do we know they were ever there then?” Dean asked casually, maneuvering the car around a slow-moving pickup truck, placing both hands on the wheel for a moment.

“GPS.” Sam responded back. “Their phones were still on until recently.”

You glanced out the window at the highway rushing past, noticing how wooded this area was. You had never been to West Virginia, and certainly never this far off the grid, your phone losing service by the second. Huffing out a sigh, you put it on airplane mode to conserve the battery, clicking through your “Impala playlist.” You often got “road trip anxiety” as Dean liked to call it, and being sprawled out in the backseat with some music was the only cure. The Impala began to slow and you heard Dean curse under his breath, prompting you to pop your head up behind the front seat. There was a heavy traffic jam ahead, a couple semi-trucks nearest the car. Dean slowed the Impala to a stop and slammed his hand down on the dashboard in frustration.

“Relax,” Sam muttered, glancing back at you and rolling his eyes, before stepping out of the Impala up to the semi-trucks. All of the vehicles seemed to have their engines either idling or off, and you could hear Sam clearly up ahead.

“Hey, do you have an idea what’s going on up here,” Sam asked as a trucker with wild hair stuck his head out the window.

“Tractor jackknifed about five mile up,” the trucker responded, spitting some chew at Sam’s feet. “Spilled chemicals and shit all over the road.”

Sam glanced back at us quick before turning back to the trucker. “Any idea how long it’ll take to clean up?”

“Couple hours,” the guy responded, a sigh escaping from Dean’s mouth that identically matched the one out of Sam’s up ahead.

“You in a hurry?” The trucker continued. Sam glanced up at him quickly, clearly weighing his response. You were secretly glad that he decided to talk to the man rather than Dean. The older Winchester was good with people, but you could feel his frustration rising, having sat still for almost ten minutes now.

“Yeah,” Sam finally stated. “We,” he continued gesturing toward the Impala. “are trying to get up toward Raleigh by tonight.”

The trucker nodded, “Well, what you oughta do is get back in your car, fix your hair a couple hundred more times—”

“Thank you,” Sam simply stated walking away quickly before the guy could finish. You stifled a laugh in the backseat, and Dean was coughing into his hand to hide his own when Sam returned.

“Shut up.” Sam muttered. “Road won’t be clear for a while. Let’s back track and see if we can find another way.”

Dean nodded, cough laughing one more time before backing the Impala up expertly and heading in the opposite direction of the traffic jam. You all drove for another thirty minutes or so while Sam navigated toward some side roads, until his phone lost service completely, Dean shook his head in frustration and turned roughly onto a dirt road, a wooden sign stating “Gas, 1 Mile.” Pulling up to what could only be described as a shack, Dean parked the Impala and threw an arm over the bench seat, turning toward you.

“You don’t have to go to the bathroom, do you?” He asked lowly. You shook your head no, and he nodded his. “Good, stay in the car.” It was more of a demand than request, and normally you would fight him, but the abandoned gas station filled you with unease, and you felt much safer hunkered down in the backseat. Sam glanced at you and smiled, before opening the door with a creak.

_______________________________________________________________________

Dean mirrored his brother, and walked toward the man out front who was wearing nothing but a wife-beater and seemed to be sitting on a beer keg.

“Excuse me, sir,” Sam started, as the two approached. “Do you have a payphone?” The man gestured with a bottle of Pepto-Bismol in his hand, and Sam headed in that direction, muttering that he was going to check in with Cas. Dean chose to keep close to the man and glance at the map framed on the wall next to him. The man continued to drink his Pepto quietly, letting it dribble down his chin. Sam stopped at the payphone, picking up the receiver and clicking the hook a couple times, before loudly dropped the receiver back down to its home.

“This one’s not working,” Sam huffed out. “Do you have another phone I could use?”

“Long distance?” The man asked quietly. Sam looked quickly at his brother for help, raising his arms and dropping them down slowly.

“What isn’t long distance from here?” Dean asked gruffly, coming to stand next to his brother, who was much more paitent.

“You cuttin’ wise with me son?”

“No,” Sam decided to cut in. “Sir, we are just looking to make a call.”

“Well, that’n there is my only phone.”

“Right.” Dean answered, shoving his hands into his pockets, and looking back at Y/N in the backseat. “The highway is really jammed up. Do you know of another route heading south?”

“Nope.”

Dean shook his head and headed back over to the map. “Why is this ‘Bear Mountain Road’ dotted on the map?” He asked, turning his head toward the man.

“Dirt. ‘fraid they ain’t got around to pavin’ it yet.”

“It looks like it runs into the highway about 15, 20 miles.” Dean said more to Sam than anyone else.

“If you say so.” The man answered anyway. Dean headed back toward the Impala, Sam following behind. “Thank you very much.” He said toward the man. “You take care.”

The boys were back into the Impala and tearing off with a cloud of dust, so they didn’t hear the man mutter after them, “You’re the one gonna need take care.”

_______________________________________________________________________

You all kept driving for another half hour or so, Dean finding the dirt road easily enough, and continuing down it, muttering to himself about washing Baby later. The road was surprisingly smooth, and Sam went back to checking out his phone for service, when the Impala suddenly seized up, jolting you to an upright position, your wrist steadying yourself on the side door and bending a little too far back. With the wheels locked up the Impala continued to slide on the smooth dirt, crashing harshly into a white jeep parked in the middle of the road, the screech of metal drowning out any other sounds.

“Y/N” you heard from your fog, shaking your head to hear more clearly.

“Sweetheart,” Dean said, pulling your face toward him lightly, his other hand grabbing at your hurt wrist. You hissed loudly, ripping it away, and leaning back into the seat out of his grasp. Sam was out of the car in a second and leaning into the backseat to look at both your head, which you only then realized was bleeding, and your wrist. The Impala spinning and crashing caused you to hit your head as you weren’t buckled in from the awkward angle you were laying in. You muttered that you were fine, but Sam wasn’t listening, instantly going to wrap up your wrist, and apply a butterfly bandage to your head. You realized Dean wasn’t in the car any longer, and strained to see what was going on outside.

It looked like Dean was talking to a group of people, who were dressed like they were going hiking. They were talking animatedly, and Sam hurried wrapping up your wrist, so you both could get out of the car and investigate. Once he was done, you slipped out of the back seat to a standing position, testing your balance. Sam’s hand never left your lower back, keeping you steady as you walked up to the group.

“How did you blow your tires?” Dean was asking as we approached, a girl with short red hair explaining. “Someone left some barbed wire in the middle of the road.” Dean nodded his head, glancing at Baby and seeing identical barbed wire attached harshly to her front tires.

“I can’t believe someone just dropped it there,” the girl with the long brown hair said with exasperation, throwing her hands in the air.

“Nobody dropped anything.” Another woman stated, coming around the corner. “I just found this tied to a tree back there. Somebody did this.”

“Redneck hospitality at its finest,” the guy in the yellow shirt muttered in response. Dean shifted to put an arm around your shoulder protectively, noticing you standing next to him. He frowned at the bandage on your head and around your wrist, but you waved him off.

“I’m gonna try and find a phone,” the woman with the barbed wire discovery stated. “I think I saw a gas station like a couple miles back.”

“We were just there.” Sam stated, the newcomers turning toward him. “There is no phone.”

“Okay, why don’t we just wait for someone else to come along?” Another woman suggested, glancing from her group members to us.

“What like speed racer here?” The barbwire woman said, pointing at Dean who scowled, pulling you closer to him.

“Look, I’m not going anywhere.” The redhead stated, looking at the guy standing next to her, who must be her boyfriend. “You guys go and we’ll just stay here, Francine.” The new group continued to bicker about Francine and her boyfriend getting high when the woman with the long brown hair walked up to us.

“Hey,” she said. “What’re your names?” She looked genuinely curious.

“Dean,” He replied. “And this is Y/N and Sam.” Dean continued gesturing toward you and his brother. The Winchester’s were having a silent conversation about what to do next when the woman walked up.

“You guys hurt?” She asked again casually. Sam and Dean shook their heads looking at you, and you did the same.

“Good,” The woman replied. “Then let’s go.”

_______________________________________________________________________

You walked along with three members of the other group, who you learned were Jessie, Carly, and her boyfriend Scott. The brothers decided to go along if only to find a phone and call up Cas. The road was flanked by deep woods on either side, giving the bright sunny day a clouded feel, and making you shiver slightly in your plain shirt, Dean reaching back to take your hand, but you brushed him off slightly, knowing he was only worried about you. The boys continued to walk, Sam asking Scott what they were all doing out here, quickly learning that the five of them were camping. Scott was very talkative, launching into a speech about trauma and slow-motion movements, making Dean chuckle lowly. You couldn’t help but be drawn to these people in a way that you haven’t been since meeting the Winchesters and joining them on the road. Scott was infectious, and Carly had a positivity about her that eased the entire group as they walked. Jessie was hard to read, but that made you like her even more, as she seemed to match Dean’s sarcasm and kept everyone on their toes.

You walked with everyone, silently taking it all in when the red and orange glow of a burning fire caught your eyes. You stopped abruptly, Dean following suite, looking up into the woods.

“Hello! Anyone up there!” Scott yelled from next to you. Dean looked at him cautiously, weighing rather to tell him to keep his voice down, when Sam spoke up.

“Somebody must have started it.” You all kept walking, you hanging behind to stare at the fire.

You couldn’t help but feel like you were being watched in those few moments. It made you uneasy, but you chalked it up to the many wild creatures who were sure to be buried in the dense forest.

The feeling didn’t last long, as you trudged quickly up a hill to keep up with the others, a wooden cabin coming into view. Scott and Carly ran up ahead, the brothers and you hanging back, not liking the look of the abandoned cabin.

“Looks like we’ve just been saved kids!” Scott yelled, heading toward the entrance. The cabin was surrounded by cars and looked like the roof was about to cave in.

“We make this quick.” Dean stated to you and Sam, Sam nodding, and reaching back for the gun hidden in his waistband. The land was filled with abandoned rusted cars and random objects, an old bike drawing your attention briefly. Dean approached the door and pulled at the screen.

“What are you doing?” Jessie asked cautiously.

Dean stopped, looking at her questioningly, used to the third degree from you, but not from a stranger.

“We need to see if they have a phone.” You stated quietly.

“And I have to pee.” Carly continued with a whine.

“Okay, but West Virginia and trespassing are not a good mix…” Scott answered trailing off lightly.

“Guys,” Sam started, always the voice of reason. “We have two wrecked cars…” Carly nodded vigorously, and Dean inched the door open further, entering the building.

The place was a complete mess, dust flying around and flies buzzing noisily. There were a few half eaten dinners set on the kitchen table, and a record playing on a phonograph in the corner.

“Okay, who lives here?” Scott asked, panic lacing his voice. “I think we should go.”

Dean continued to look around, Sam and you venturing further into the house while Carly and Scott continued to argue. Scott finally settled down and went to help Carly find a bathroom, opening a door to the side that was filled with random objects. You continued to look stumbling upon stacks of sunglasses and keys, items that made you all the more uneasy.

“Sam,” You whispered. He looked over at you carefully, and you held up some of the keys. “We need to go.” Sam nodded quickly and headed into the kitchen to grab Dean. Suddenly, a truck began to pull up, chains clinking and clanging loudly. You ran to the window and looked out, unsure of what was coming toward you, when you felt a hand on your shoulder. You turned around startled and Dean grabbed you roughly around the waist, diving under the nearby bed, taking you with him. You watched as Sam found Scott and Carly and quickly pulled them into another room, just in time for the doors to slam open, and heavy footsteps thud through the entryway.

Read part II here!

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croatian-nt · 5 years ago

Text

Mafia au-Part four

Summary: When an unassuming artist saves a man’s life at the shooting at the gallery, he ends up in the midde of the war between two mafias and as he gets dragged deeper into the whole thing, he soon learns the line between the sides and right and wrong blur more than he expected.

Pairings: Luka Modrić/Šime Vrsaljko, Livi/Bruno mentioned

Word Count:

Warnings: mentions of past murder, blood, making out

Notes: Soo it’s finally here, sorry for the delay, online classes started this week and the whole earthquake situation kind of *shook* me(get it? get it? okay, I’ll stop now). As usual big thank you to @lovren-la-vida-luka for editing this. Anyway, enjoy :)

Šime

Šime had a very strong dislike for hospitals, to say the least. The smell of antiseptic, the white, sterile walls, and the general sense of dread they always seemed to give off. His dislike was so strong the word hate was on tip of his tongue whenever he set foot in one, or even thought about it, but he couldn't afford to have such strong feelings about anything in his job.

Deep down, he know that perhaps it was partly because it seemed that every time he walked into one, someone died. And he didn't mean the people he killed. Šime was long past the point when he would regret slitting someone's throat. Especially not someone who wanted to hurt Luka.

He swallowed. The drum of reckless energy was still pulsing through him. The urge to hurt, maim, kill everyone involved in this. He silently vowed that when this was all over, he was going to strangle Luka himself. Why the fuck did he go there – or anywhere, for that matter - without a gun?

He walked casually into the first room he found, unfazed by the way the nurse paled at the sight of him. He could only imagine how he looked, his body and face splattered with blood. He took a gun out, lazily pointing it at her.

"It's in both of our interests that you survive, and that I don't have to use this thing. So, I am looking for a friend. Short, slim, with longish blond hair. Sounds familiar?"

She nodded, and only then did Šime notice that she must have been an intern. Something like regret passed through him, but he pushed it away. Every second longer it takes for him to find Luka is a second spared for someone else to get there first. If the girl was smart, she'd listen to him and it would go smoothly. If not... well. This whole thing couldn't become much messier than it already was.

"Lead the way. If you scream or try to run, I am going to shoot you and show you as an example to the second nurse I'll find to help me. Got it?"

She paled even more, looking like she might faint, but thankfully she didn't. Šime hated hysterical people. They gave him a headache.

"Yes sir. He is in room 206, if I’m thinking of the right person."

Šime signaled her to exit the door. As promised, she quietly led him through the corridor and to the room 206. Šime relaxed a bit, reassured that he wouldn't have to kill her.

She opened the door, and there he was. Luka. Šime's heart squeezed in his chest. The harsh fluorescent light only made him look paler, sicklier. The gauze on his should was soaked with blood, and Šime clenched his fists as he looked at it.

As if he sensed Šime's presence, Luka's eyes blinked open, immediately focusing on him. He blinked once again, and then frowned.

"Well, this is a weird one. You aren't usually covered in blood in my dreams."

Šime took a sharp breath, biting inside of his cheek. Luka's face held such a honest, vulnerable expression it made him wish for impossible things.

It made him wish for a calm breeze on his face from an open window, the smell of coffee in the morning, and being able to just walk through a few rooms to find Luka at any time. To kiss him, right this second, first thing in the morning and any other time he wanted, without having to look over his shoulder.

Šime's insides recoiled as he snapped out of his fantasy, and he mentally slapped himself. What kind of wish is that? He should know better.

"You are not dreaming," he said, trying to make his voice sound as sharp as it did earlier.

He turned to the nurse again.

"Give me the key to this room. And you” - he glanced at Luka - "get dressed. We are leaving."

Šime could feel Luka's burning gaze on the nape of his neck when he turned from him. He didn't have the time to talk to him properly, and it was for the best. For the first time, Šime didn't trust himself to keep his cool. He was one step away from starting a shouting match.

"What the fuck do you think you are doing?! Who are you, and who are your friends, actually? Jesus Christ Ante, you just killed someone!"

By the sound of it, the kid from the gallery shared his sentiment, but not his self restraint. Which was another reason they needed to hurry.

Luka put his torn button-up on, and Šime quietly mourned the loss of it. It was such a nice shirt, and before it was torn and bloodied. it looked amazing on Luka.

The nurse gave him the key and Šime fished out a small bottle from the pocket of his jacket. The nurse swallowed audibly, digging her nails into her palms. Šime smirked, but managed to stifle his laughter.

"Calm down. It's chloroform – but it's not for you. I'm just going to lock you in this room for a bit to buy us some time. Give me some gauze or something to put this on."

She walked over to a first aid box in the corner, never taking her eyes off Šime, and handed held out a thick white dressing without a word. Without breaking the silence, Šime took it with a hint of a smile, and Luka gave him a look. Šime knew that look, it was his "what-the-hell-are-you-doing-now" look. Well, perhaps if Luka didn't consistently prove that his plans sucked, maybe Šime would tell him about his.

Taking the key in one hand and the gauze in another, he exited the room, Luka trailing behind him still looking bemused and more delicate than usual. Šime locked the door behind them, and stared at the key for a moment. Then, after a moment of consideration, he walked over to the first open window he saw and, with a lightning fast flick of the wrist, he threw it.

"Did you just throw the key out of the window?!" Luka asked, raising an eyebrow.

"No, Luka, of course not, you must be hallucinating from the blood loss,” Šime replied, his voice dripping with sarcasm. “I actually swallowed the key. Now that's cleared up, let's move."

Luka rolled his eyes but followed him through the corridor. Šime opened the door and slipped inside silently, a skill he had perfected over the years. He braced himself and walked over to the gallery kid, grabbing his shoulder. The boy - or well, the man, he supposed, processing for the first time that he was actually slightly taller and broader than Šime himself - flinched, but Šime didn't ease his grip.

The need for violence burned through him again and he resisted the urge to just knock the kid out with a precise hit on the head. He saved Luka, and that was worth something.

“I am really sorry I have to do this, but we already gained too much attention without you making a scene and shouting Ante's name. Let's hope nobody heard that part.”

And then he pressed the chloroform-soaked gauze to his face. The guy struggled, but it was nothing compared to what Šime was used to, and after a few moments his body went limp in his arms.

Šime didn't miss the way Ante clenched his fists and was obviously resisting the urge to stop him and defend... what was his name again?

“Since you seem so keen on protecting him, you can carry him to the car,” Šime said, almost tossing him towards Ante, who caught him, scowling at Šime.

Šime rolled his eyes.

“And don't think you're getting away without explaining that mess. I am just in a hurry to get out of here. But there will be plenty of time during the ride to the safe house.”

“Safe house?” Luka asked, furrowing his eyebrows.

“Yes. We can't afford to be potentially followed to the main house. And you-” Šime sharply swept his gaze from Luka's pale face to his injured shoulder, and torn clothes, “need to be somewhere safe. That's the number one priority here.”

With that, Šime turned and walked towards the exit, not checking if they followed him. If they really wanted to die in this stupid hospital, then fine. Šime wasn't about to hang around and join them.

When all three, or, well, technically four, of them finally reached the car, Šime was already nervously glancing around the parking lot. They had been here for way longer than he would have liked.

Livi was waiting for them, of course, his fingers anxiously tapping on the steering wheel. His shoulders relaxed a bit when he caught the sight of Šime, and his eyes widened when he saw Ante carrying someone. Šime should really teach him how to hide his emotions better.

“How do you plan on all of us fitting in car, with Tin unconscious?” Ante asked sharply, but Šime didn't even turned towards him.

“Put him in the trunk, hell, tie him to the roof for all I care. As long as you do it fast.”

He could see the way Ante's jaw clenched and eyes narrowed. Ante was known for his lack of reaction, but for some reason he was slipping... that was the most emotion Šime had seen in his notoriously stony face since he met him five years ago. Interesting.

Šime took the front seat, which left Ante and Luka in the backseat, with Ante arranging... what had Ante called him? Tim? to sit between them, with his head leaning on Ante's shoulder. It looked almost domestic, forcing Šime to bat away his own daydreams once again.

As if he'd read his mind, Luka caught Šime's gaze in rear mirror, his honey eyes trapping him for a moment. Šime pursed his lips, pushing the worry, the anger and everything else back down. There will be time to talk, but it wasn't now.

“Drive. You know the way,” he told Livi flatly, tearing his eyes away from Luka's and looking ahead.

When the car started and they left the parking lot without another incident, Šime turned his gaze towards Ante.

“So... care to enlighten us as to how you and Tim know each? And why he freaked out earlier?”

Ante shifted, turning his eyes to the side window, obviously uncomfortable with Šime's prying. This was nothing new, if they really thought about it no one truly knew anything about Ante, but there was something different about it this time. Instead of cold and indifferent, he seemed... cagey. His look was one Šime had seen dozens of times on the faces of people he was seconds away from forcing a secret out of.

“His name is Tin, with an N, not Tim. And we went to the same high school. But that was in another part of the country. I haven’t seen or heard from him in years, and I genuinely have no idea what he’s doing here.”

Šime shrugged. That really wasn't the part he was concerned about. Tim- Tin - was just at the wrong place and at the wrong time. With too good intentions. Šime glanced to his unconscious face and felt himself warming to him, just a little.

If he wasn't there, Luka would probably be dead.

Šime shook his head, chasing that thought away. He really shouldn't think of that. He couldn't, not if he was to keep up his professional facade while Ante and Livi were around.

"It looked a bit more personal than that to me."

Ante crossed his arms over his chest, and Šime knew he hit a nerve. It was like poking a bear with a stick to get a reaction. Ante was such an enigma because he never talked about anything from the past. But when someone just waltzes in like this... well, things get a little harder to hide.

"Look, while it's great that Tin here saved Luka's life, if you think I will hesitate to put a bullet through his brain if he is the faintest bit suspicious, you are gravely mistaken. So if you want him to live, you better start talking."

Ante swallowed, and Šime let the silence stretch, knowing Ante would break under pressure. If he felt better pretending he actually weighed up both options, Šime wasn't about to break his illusion. But since a big part of his job was to read people and find their weaknesses... he knew he had him the moment he said Tin's name.

"Fine. We used to date. Back in high school. But everything I said is true, I haven’t seen him in years, and he isn't dangerous by any means, I swear. He's just a fucking artist, for God's sake!"

Šime raised his eyebrows.

"That artist of yours knocked out two trained men with guns, without even giving them a chance to fight back. Maybe you want to try that again."

Ante chewed on his bottom lip, deciding how much he could say.

"That's because I trained him in self defense, okay? But there is a reason he didn't try to fight them. If he was any kind of threat, don't you think he would have been able to fight you earlier?"

That was a fair point. To be fair, Šime didn't really think Tin was dangerous, but after all that had happened today, he wasn't about to let any potential threat slide.

"Alright, I trust you, and that means I trust him. But for now, he won't be able to leave the safe house. He saw our faces and until I am certain he won't go straight to the police, he isn't going anywhere."

Ante nodded, but he didn't relax. Šime supposed he was aware he’d be the one responsible for keeping Tin from getting out. Šime glanced to Luka again, the way the setting sun painted his face and hair into red tones and he felt a pang in his heart. He quickly averted his gaze. He definitely wasn't envious of Ante's task.

Livi was quiet during the entire ride, his eyes fixed on the road. Despite the fact that his baby face usually made him seem a few years younger than he was, the look in his eyes was that of a man four times his age.

The rest of the ride was spent in loaded silence, and when the car finally stopped, Livi jumped out as if the thing was about to explode, but Šime stayed in the car a moment longer, just watching the way Ante gently eased Tin out and scooped him up.

Luka would never let him do that, no matter how injured he was. Because his reputation was more important.

No, because he doesn't want anyone to know about you, how he feels about you. Because he doesn't love you. At least not as much as you love him.

Šime grit his teeth and exited the car, making sure he doesn't glance in Luka's direction. He knew Luka would struggle to open the door without jostling his shoulder, but there was nothing he could do. Nothing that Luka wouldn't see as an implication of weakness, anyway.

Ante was already at the door, with Tin in his arms, and Luka wasn't far behind. Livi went to joining them, but Šime stopped him with a firm hand on his shoulder.

"I am not going to ask you how you knew Luka was going to be in danger, because I keep my word. But if I find out you had something to do with this... believe me, you'll have far bigger problems than Dalić finding out about it. Got it?"

Livi held his gaze, unwavering. Sometimes Šime let himself slip and forget exactly who Livi was, but in moments like this, he would be sharply reminded with perfect clarity of just who he was dealing with... and who raised him.

"Got it. I mean, you were pretty clear. I just find it insulting that you think I would be dumb enough to plan Luka's assassination and then tell you about it beforehand."

Šime snorted, the weight lifting of his shoulders a bit. He was really starting to like Livi. He really didn't want to kill him.

"Okay, you can go see your lover boy now. Ante and I can handle it from here."

Livi gave him an honest smile, and the ancient look in his eyes disappeared for a brief moment. He actually looked 23, young and carefree as he should be. Not that Šime knew anything about that from personal experience.

As he climbed the stairs to the door and made his way to Luka's room, he let his mind wander back, to when he was 16.

The air was crisp and cold, the wind sharply making it's way through people's coats and making them tremble. Šime liked that kind of weather.

It meant people were walking quickly, and paying less attention to their surroundings, eager to get away from the cold. That made his job so much more easier.

Stumbling or colliding into people was his specialty. Supporting them with their right hand a apologizing profusely, making it seemed like an unfortunate accident on his part. A misstep. Nobody ever payed attention to his left hand.

Nobody before Luka.

Šime collided with a short boy with blond hair. He was nothing special from afar - he looked around Šime's age, maybe a few years older but it was hard to be sure, considering his height - but his clothes were nice enough for Šime to try to get his wallet. Or watch. Or both, if he had enough time.

What he didn't expect was for the boy to move frighteningly fast as soon as Šime fished out his wallet, tightly gripping his wrist. Šime's breath caught in his throat. Nobody caught him stealing before.

He stared at the boy, his honey eyes reminding him of the light of a candle. Lighting up a room if used properly, and burning down the entire house if you got too careless.

"I plead not guilty?" Šime whispered, his voice trembling.

The other boy let out a startled laugh, shaking his head a bit. He gave Šime a long, calculating look, before letting go of his wrist.

"Would you like a job? One that could use your... expertise?"

Šime came back to the present, grounding himself with the feeling of a cold steel knob in his hand. He took a deep breath, and opened the door.

Luka was sitting on a chair next to the bed, trying to change his dressing himself. Šime watched him fumble with the gauze for a moment, and then stepped into the room, quietly closing the door behind him.

"Let me," he said, and Luka flinched.

He didn't hear him. That was unusual - Luka was always aware of the smallest sounds and movement. It was a rare occurrence for Šime to sneak up to him even when he tried.

Šime pushed away his worry and stepped closer, slowly, making sure not to make any sudden movements.

"I am not some scared animal," Luka snapped, crossing his arms over his chest and immediately wincing in pain.

Šime didn't answer. He stopped behind Luka, and their eyes met in the mirror. Šime carefully brushed Luka's hair to the left side, so he could take a better look at his injured shoulder.

It was more or less a clean wound, or rather two, where the bullet passed right through the shoulder, but the marks were still startlingly red next to Luka's pale skin.

"No, you are not. But that doesn't mean I can't be careful with you. Really, it says more about me than you."

Luka swallowed and kept quiet and Šime took that as his agreement to change his dressing. He wrapped the bandage in silence, even making a conscious effort not to breathe too loudly in the stillness, and when he was almost finished Luka spoke.

"I got distracted. I should have noticed that man sooner, but I didn't. I got distracted, because of you, and it almost cost me my life."

Šime finished wrapping the gauze and made sure it was secured before taking a step back.

"Then tell me to leave."

"What?" Luka asked, sitting up straighter in the chair.

Šime met his eyes, amber and brown opal clashing.

"Tell me to leave. If I am really such a burden, such a threat to your life - then tell me to leave. I can promise you, I will walk out of that door without another word and you'll never see me again. I won't make this hard on you, if that's what you want, say so and I'm gone."

Luka stared, swallowed. Šime almost caved when he saw his lost, desperate look he gave him.

"You know I can't do that."

Šime closed his eyes, taking a deep breath, before opening them again, catching Luka's eyes once again.

"Then ask me to stay. Just... just for God's sake, Luka, make up your mind already. Because I feel like I'm trying to reach for smoke here and as much as it would hurt losing you... I feel like I already am. So just make a choice. For both of our sakes."

Luka turned, opened his mouth and closed it. And then nodded.

"Do I... do I need to make a decision now?"

Everything in Šime wanted to scream: YES! We have been dancing around this for years, how much more time could you possibly need?! Just tell me what you want already!

But he bit his tongue, and smoothed his face into his usual calm, collected facade.

"No, of course not. But you should do it soon. Especially considering…" Šime paused, sweeping his eyes over Luka's shoulder and then back to his face, "…these new developments. I'd imagine things will get quite messy soon."

Luka pursed his lips and nodded once again, and Šime turned on his heel, ready to leave.

"Wait!"

Šime spun back around, finding Luka on his feet now. Before Šime could ask what was wrong, or say anything at all, Luka stepped closer and his lips were on Šime's.

Šime gasped, and Luka got even closer, tangling his hands into Šime's messy curls. His breath was warm in Šime's mouth, and unlike this morning he tasted of blood. Šime chose to ignore that, and kissed him back, hard.

It was as if a dam had been broken, and they couldn't stop kissing each other. Even when they parted for breath, one of them would press smaller, quick kisses to the other's lips. Šime because he wanted to make sure Luka was alive, and breathing and okay, and Luka because he wanted to make sure he didn't waste his chance this time around.

Finally, they stopped, their foreheads leaning against each other, and panting for air. The silence was different now – still charged, but no longer uncomfortable. They didn't have to say anything to understand what the other was thinking.

"I don't want you to leave. But I... I don't know how to do this either. I don't know how to keep you safe, hell, apparently I don't even know how to keep myself safe. And you are putting yourself at a higher risk now, just by being around me."

Šime sighed, playing with a lock of Luka's silky hair as he considered the answer.

"Nobody is promised safety, especially not in our line of business. And we'll figure out the rest. As long as we are together."

Luka opened his mouth to say something else, but before he could, Šime kissed him again. It was a quick, bruising kiss and Šime smiled against Luka's mouth as he gasped.

"You need to get some rest. You almost died. Trust me, I'll find out more about what happened by the time you wake up. Okay?"

Luka still looked uncertain, unused to not doing everything on his own. Even when others did things without him, he knew exactly what they were doing. This required trust. Both Šime and Luka trusted very few people, but they both knew that if this was going to work, they needed to trust each other completely.

"Okay."

Šime kissed Luka's forehead, and left without another word. Right before he closed the door, he glanced back at Luka and found him still standing where he left him, looking right back at him. When Šime closed the door with a soft click, he felt as if he lost something precious.

Which was ridiculous. Wasn't it? Well, it was, until Šime's phone rang.

He didn't have the number saved in his phone - that would be stupid for a multitude of reasons - but he memorized that number long time ago. It usually showed on Luka's phone though, not Šime's.

"Vrsaljko," Šime answered, his voice cold, almost robotic.

The person on the other end of the phone chuckled darkly, and the hairs on Šime's arms stood on end. There was something about that voice that never failed to make Šime shudder and make something cold and heavy settle in his stomach.

"Yes, I am aware. I just heard about Luka's... incident. I assume he is alright, since you answered the call?"

Šime hated the fact the other man knew that, if Luka died, Šime would already be on a killing mission. Šime was very much used to being the reader, not the metaphorical book, and it made him uncomfortable that someone could so effortlessly read even the chapters he made an effort to keep glued shut.

"Yes, he's alive."

"Good. I also presume you don't have any information other than what I heard from Livaković and Rebic?"

Šime's breath caught in his throat. Lying to Dalić was never wise. But hell if Šime was going to break his promise to Livi.

"No."

"I need you to do something for me," Dalić continued, brushing off the previous topic, "now that Luka is injured. I am sure Luka won't be out of action for long, but while he is, you are one of few people I trust to be... discreet."

Shit. This couldn't be good.

Šime knew something was very, very wrong. He knew that Dalić was doing this behind Luka's back for a reason far more important than him being injured, even before he said anything.

"I am listening."

"I need you to arrange a hit for me... I just found out who ordered the shooting at the gallery."

Šime could barely hear anything over the static in his ears. His heart was beating wildly in his chest and the gentleness and suspicion bled out of him. Only rage was left. He gripped the phone tighter, until he thought the screen might crack.

"Who?" he hissed through clenched teeth. He knew that Dalić wasn't the type for dramatic pauses, so the eternal wait for the other man to answer was probably, in reality, a split second. Finally, he spoke.

"Danijel Subašić."

And in that moment, as he remembered stories of Luka's stories from his childhood, and him and Suba saving each other's lives before they join opposite mafias, Šime was certain of one thing. Things would never be the same again.

Taglist:

@morska-vjestica

@hetapeep41

@hvnedge

@incelhugochavez

@wordpuddle

#croatian nt #mafia au #sime vrsaljko #luka modric #ante rebic #dominik livakovic #tin jedvaj #long post

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