#i tried to answer Fully but ended up going in a long odd spiel | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

katsukikitten · 4 years ago

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WARNINGS : N!SFW 18+ AGED UP AU! SOME SCENES MAY CONTAIN GRAPHIC CONTENT, READER DISCRETION IS ADVISED. YANDERE THEMES GIF MADE BY ME

It started out with a package.

Roses really, neatly tucked away in plastic and a glass vase that nestled into loud styrofoam.

Or at least that's when you started to notice it.

Actually it started with a phone call didn't it?

Just a few days ago the old rotary phone, the one you bought for nostalgia, rang. This in itself was not odd, you picked up the aged yellow receiver and pressed the cool plastic to your ear.

But you did not speak, waiting patiently for the other line to come to life. After a few moments of silence you figure it to be a telemarketer, the automated type that doesn't start its spiel until it hears a tone, a voice. So you hang up.

The random call lost to both time and thought.

But you cannot forget this package that acted as a catalyst, to what you were not sure.

You just knew it was something.

The white box with the flower company's name on the side of the cardboard sat on your concrete steps, just past the waist high fence. You were returning from a run, huffing as you bent over, you figured it was most likely for your neighbor but it had your address. The recipient's name had been worn off from the poor handling of the package, you had figured the contents to be broken. Despite the state of the box the roses were perfectly intact. Crystal vase sparkling even through the opaque wrapping, a note on top that read.

I'll love you always.

Ah so this was not for you. You scoff, this was meant for your neighbor as you first originally thought. It made more sense that way. What with his boyfriend being long distance, it was obvious. He most likely remembered his address wrong and put yours in error. As you're haphazardly closing the box, keeping the note in hand, your neighbor waltz from his door.

"Ah, um Denki-kun" You call, a bright smile beams on his face as he makes his way to meet you at your shared fence.

"Love!" He greets, strong hand giving your bicep a soft squeeze, "Ah flowers? Spill!"

"Well they aren't mine. I...I think they're yours. Here." You shove the box and note into his hands, stupid tears trying to prick your eyes.

Why? You were unsure.

Maybe you were a bit jealous. Thinking back you couldn't remember the last time you had even had a flirtatious comment or cat call sent your way. You lived a normal quiet life with your "abnormality". Quirkless. You worked from home, spoke to a select few and hardly left your house. It contributed to your wait gain thus adding to your small list of places to go.

The grocery store.

And the gym Denki invited you to or around the block for a run.

After a gurgling amount of time you finally achieved your dream body. Now all that was left was to maintain it.

"Wait!" Denki calls, "This isn't my boyfriend's handwriting."

Furrowing your brows, hand on the handle the answer comes to you.

"Probably just one of those fonts meant to look like handwriting."

"No, come look. It was made with a ballpoint pen." Nothing escapes his pro hero trained eye, his finger slides beneath the words, "He seems passionate! Lucky duck look at how deep love is."

He passes the card to you, giving you a wink as he passes the white box. Sure enough there are divots in the card stock, love is the deepest. Deep enough it almost ripped through the thick paper. You swallow thickly racking your brain, your job requires you to have answers to every question. Logical answers. So it's no surprise your mind wanders until it comes up with something. Your eyes shift to the right, you were lucky enough for your little house to be on the corner of the block.

The delicate roses must have been intended for your neighbor diagonal from you. You wait until Denki is halfway down the block before you rush across the quiet street to set the flowers up neatly on the porch. Throwing the box and wrapping into the trash before you speed walk into the safety of your sanctuary.

Your cats prance to the door to greet you and then sprint to the kitchen to be fed. As if you hadn't just fed them before your run a little less than an hour ago.

The rest of your night is uneventful. You curl on the couch, nestled deep within an old cardigan and the comfort of your leggings with a pile of work to be analyzed. To find the devil in the details and solve what seemed unsolvable.

The answers were always there, under your nose. Found easily by your trained eye but how could you not see the obvious answers when you had the luxury of a bird's eye view. The luxury of knowing the whole story from the shakey beginning to the bitter end.

A luxury you would not have for your own story.

The shrill ring cuts through the comfortable silence causing you to jump from your skin, the cats perk their heads up lazily to see what disturbed them before tucking their head back down.

You tell yourself it's a wrong number, a telemarketer but curiosity is beginning to get the better of you.

And curiosity is a deadly, loud thing. Louder than reason. Reason you had learned from the safety of your home, from other people's mistakes. The same very mistakes that sit on your lap with harsh red ink labeling them C L A S S I F I E D.

It rings a fourth time as you stand, the bell calling out for your attention, demanding you speak. You lift the receiver, again there is silence on the other end.

You wait patiently, is this another automated telemarketer? Had you entered your real number by mistake for one of those stupid store discounts?

You must have, still you resist the urge to tap the speaker of the phone to see if it would trigger the recording.

Instead you drop the receiver onto the base, rattling the hidden bell.

And that was that, you return to your work. Pouring over the details to find the pattern, to build a psychological profile to avoid a tragedy in the future.

Ironic how you cannot prevent your own.

It isn't until a few weeks later does the first letter find its way into your mailbox.

It seemed harmless enough you thought it to be an accident, just neatly looped words proclaiming their love. But it was never fully addressed to you and when you tried to pass it off to Denki, again he denied that the letter belonged to him.

Still, those looping letters twist into your memory, coming to the forefront of your mind every now and again. As if the paper that lies on your dining room table reads itself aloud, from beginning to end at the top of every hour.

As if the ink doesn't want you to forget.

"I am not sure when it started, but it did. I had fallen for you despite my efforts not to. A half of a year I've told myself to forget it, to forget you. And yet I cannot bring myself to stop, the more I try the more you come to mind. And the more I find myself near you. It's as if you're a bad drug I can't quit. I've been watching you. Everything you do is done in such cautious beauty. Please answer next time my dear."

Silence for weeks after that, at least as far as the rotary phone and the mailbox were concerned. You would occasionally get a text from an unknown number.

A transposed number, an error on the sender's end. Or so you assured yourself, especially when they would seem a bit too coincidental. When you were out for a jog or out at the gym at a different time than usual a text would come through.

For a second your mouth would go dry, your blood ice cold as you read the black letters atop the white screen. Huffing as your lack of breath came from a psychological response as opposed to your physical running.

Why aren't you home?

See you soon?

But these couldn't be intended for you. How could they? You could list the people you knew outside of your family and work place on one hand.

Denki.

And only because he spoke to you first!

So these texts, these little messages laced with concern could have been for an estranged spouse, a forgetful spouse or some partner who lacked the ability to properly communicate.

You just knew they weren't for you.

Or so your new mantra goes.

Paranoia didn't begin to sink it's sharp teeth into you until you noticed your cats' odd behavior.

In an immeasurable amount of time they went from lazy, happy go lucky animals to hostile even aggressive creatures. As if they were suddenly feral.

Oddly enough they only acted this way during certain times, mainly at night. Their moon eyes saw things you could not, their enhanced hearing heard things you could not, things you labeled, rat or mouse.

Would a mouse or rat cause a cat to hiss at shrouded corners? To claw at the wall with a howl that sounded more like a scream? Would it make them avoid the closet door in your room?

Maybe it was bigger? The floorboards above did groan more often than not lately. Maybe it was a raccoon even.

Yes, that had to be the cause of their behavior.

And yet there was still that one time, that one instance you sometimes dream about waking in a cold sweet.

The thing you cannot explain away, nor label as mouse, rat, not even a raccoon.

A cocktail of a tired mind and a trick of the eye but simply not vermin.

It was overcast, a sickly grey as the day wept deep into the night. The weather, naturally, caused you to melt into the plush material of your couch as you consumed comfort movie after comfort movie. You were given a reprieve from your worry as your cats seemed normal, sleepy just as you were that day. Even Nyx chose to laze on your chest as a temporary throne. Your couch is flush against the arch way that leads into the dining room and kitchen, giving it's back to part of the hallway towards the main bathroom and your bedroom at the back.

This angle always caused you great anxiety but there was no other way your luxury couch could fit in the small living room and so you always sunk low into the cushions.

Suddenly Nyx's ears twitch and her eyes snap open, waking only a cat knows how. On high alert to a sound totally lost to your draft ear. Her eyes widen, pupils dilating to adjust better to the shadowed room. The glow of the TV casts such a glow on the objects around you, flicker in soft and harsh lights. Slowly Nyx cranes her neck to see what exactly disturbed her sleep, just as her eyes lock on whatever is behind you, you see it for just a fraction of a second.

In the reflection of those moon eyes you see it. Distorted only from the curvature of her lens and the grain of the TV but there is no denying its shape.

A crude outline of a man, broad shouldered and faceless in the dark.

You freeze, mirroring your cat. Breath held as you watch the figure in the pitch black pupil. Wishing, hoping and praying that what you see is not really there.

After an eon of a moment, Nyx begins to shrink in on herself before silently slinking from the couch to find shelter beneath it.

You are not brave enough to move, to crane your head just as your cat did before you to confirm if what you saw was real. And in the milliseconds that the TV goes black you avoid the corner the figure should be standing in. Goose flesh breaks out over your skin, making you feel vulnerable and cold. While your feet burn begging you to get up.

To run.

After a lot of mental reassurance and silence you begin to settle down. Easing yourself back into the rational world. Even becoming brave enough to stare into the TV, into the corner where the figure should be reflected in.

Each passing second as you wait for that small moment of blackness sends your heart into an irrational pace. Finally it happens and when you see nothing you sigh with relief.

Mentally giving yourself an "I told you it was nothing." talk.

That is until you hear a sound, a thump and a click from the back bedroom.

Your bedroom.

But the sound seems as if it came from within, as if it were your closet door.

Your heart explodes into frantic erratic beating.

The shrill ring of the old rotary phone rips through the dialogue of the movie but it can be barely heard over the hum of your blood.

RIIIIIIIIIIIIIIING

BRRRIIIIIIIIIIIIIING

Tonight you are frozen in place, whether that be from petrifying fear or sheer stubborn denial you cannot say. You just know one thing. You do not want to deal with the automated telemarketer who never seems to speak.

It rings four more times before it stops.

You chalk it up to coincidence. To nothing.

Late evening turns into late night and sooner rather than later you find yourself in the mouth of the hallway. Staring down your bedroom door as your mind plays on repeat the sound of a door closing from earlier that night.

You cannot let the boogie man keep you from sleep. Slowly you enter, flicking on all the lights.

Everything seems to be in place, the small pile of laundry still lies abandoned by your hamper, your bed neatly made, pillows haphazardly lying about the comforter. Hell even your inherited diamond drop necklace still sits snugly in the jewelry dish on your night stand.

The townhouse makes an odd sound, you jump out of your skin. Clutching your phone so hard the lock and volume buttons imprint into your palms.

No longer can you ignore the elephant in the room as the silence from this particular space screams at deafening volumes until you dare to look. Your eyes flicker to your left and there it is.

Your closet door, seeming to yawn and stretch even in the harsh hue of the overhead light. A closet is always an ominous, odd place and the sounds it may or may not have made cause a great twisting in your stomach. The shine of the knob calls to you with deadly wonder. Begging you to turn the gleaming metal to reveal the darkness behind the bland white door.

It should be inspected shouldn't it? If you ever wanted to sleep soundly you would need to reveal what may lurk in the dark.

Creeping towards the door with baited breath until finally your hand hovers over the knob.

"Open me." It seems to whisper in delighted glee, elated to see your stressed, scared features distort in its polished brass. You retract your fingers as if burned, biting onto your lip as you scrape your large armchair against the wood. Shoving it into place against the closet door.

You sit on the edge of the bed, staring at the door until your eyes burn. You turn off the overhead light but keep the soft light of your nightstand lamp on.

You dream fever dreams of flashing lights as a storm passes overhead. Dream of the closet door laughing in the night, of cool fingers pressed into your skin.

Jolting awake you reach for your phone as your senses slowly come to you. Your eyes fly to the armchair in the mid morning light. It rests in the same spot you left it ominously staring at your bed.

Something seems off about it or maybe you just imagine that there is a deep divot in the cushion, as if someone or something sat in the armchair most of the night.

You close your eyes and go over rational explanations. Always bringing back to yourself the same question.

Who in the world would want you?

Bringing you back full circle, that you were getting ahead of yourself. The cart before the horse in a sense and letting your mind race without restraint.

Letting the season of Fall try to creep into your bones and cause an artificial fear.

Still it's not too long after that do the cats avoid your room altogether.

While you choose to do what you've always done, push the problem aside and explain it away.

The phone rings as you're lacing up your running shoes. You pick up the receiver without bringing it to your ear and place it down gently.

It's just a wrong number anyway.

Tonight air bites at your nose, leaves crunching underfoot as wind whips around buildings and trash, carrying with it the promise of a harsh winter to come.

Your feet carry you slowly back to the direction of home as they beat down your normal, safe route.

A right from your little townhome, straight for two blocks before you would find the winding black pavement. It would snake past the backs of homes through some small trees but never a path that was fully hidden.

Always out in the open but giving you the ability to peer into people's lives as you passed. Witnessing dinners, arguments and heated moments of passion. Silently you thanked Kami you were not positioned on this route.

You keep your eyes focused ahead, the music in your ears low to listen for possible passers such as a bike or a better runner than yourself.

You pass a tree that seems thicker than normal, your phone buzzes on your arm band.

An email, it has to be an email.

Yet your mind wanders to those worried texts, lingers on the thoughts of if that tree had always been that wide, if the quickly setting sun had always cast the path in blood red. The maroon leaves flutter overhead, falling to the ground.

More crunching than what you think your feet should produce has you running faster. Forcing yourself not to glance over your shoulder. Your breathing becomes rasped as you borderline sprint home, still the crunching comes closer.

It isn't until someone brushes your shoulder as they pass do you let out a blood curdling scream. Huffing to catch your breath as you take a step back. The jogger, your neighbor from across the street that you occasionally run into, removes his earbud.

"You okay?" He addresses you by your name and suddenly you're embarrassed that you do not know his. He takes your silence as an answer, his brow furrowing.

"I thought you'd be less skittish since your new boyfriend's been coming around." Your mouth goes dry.

"Wh...what?"

"Yea he seems so sweet. He always checks the windows to make sure they are locked at night." He takes in your response and shrugs, "It's getting late. Since I didn't see your boyfriend there yet, I'll jog you home."

The jog home is agonizing,your mind racing far faster than your feet can go.

What did he mean he saw him checking the windows? What boyfriend?

Maybe, maybe he mixed up your house with Denki's again. It's happened once before when he was returning mail. So there was a good chance he was mistaken again.

Still the closer the two of you get to home the worse you feel. A brick sits in your stomach as he jogs in place before your fence. He gives you a knowing smile and a wink as you wave him goodbye.

It isn't until you turn to face your home do you notice it, the white rectangle stark against your black door.

There is an envelope taped to the thick oak, addressed to no one but "My beloved".

You rip it from the wood with ragged breath as you bring it inside. Already you can feel the contents squirming, fidgeting as it waits to be read.

Polaroid photos fall to the hardwood floors, pictures of you running down your favorite path. Blurred images of you walking down the aisles of the grocery store, and even a photo of you taken between the cracks of the fence in your front yard.

There are no more photos after that, at least not this time. Just that fucking letter written in long looping ink You feel the words tighten around your throat as horror wraps its spindly fingers around your guts and yanks them towards the floor.

Your knees threaten to buckle as your eyes rapidly move along the page.

"In these moments you are the most beautiful. Blissfully unaware of prying eyes. In my time I've come to care for you I've noticed I'm not the only one watching. People gaze at you with whispered murmurs, with pitying eyes as they spin tales of your life. Speculating gossip as you prance about the neighborhood. Flaunting in those tight running shorts that hold every godly curve of your thighs and ass. Of the light jacket you leave unzipped so they can get a better view of your bouncing breasts tucked in your black sports bra. I wonder, would they bounce like that when you ride on my cock? Would your hair stick to your forehead like that as I rail you from behind. Would that angelic voice squeak out for more? For me? Ah I'm salivating thinking of it, harder than I've ever been. Please do not wear those out while running. In fact you don't have to run anymore Doll. You just need to let me take care of you God damn it. You little fucking whore. You seductive vixen with your God damned doe eyes. Just...just fucking answer please."

Rage and fear fight for control as you reread the letter for the fourth, fifth time before you finally move. Rage, for once, wins. You slam the door behind you locking the deadbolt before running to the back bedroom. Throwing the heavy chair from the closet door and ripping it open.

Nothing lies within it, just clothes that begin to smell of neglect. Of old running shoes you didn't have the heart to throw away.

Of relief that whoever was sending these letters, these ones that weren't meant for you. Wasn't currently in the house.

The floorboards overhead groan and for a moment you have half a mind to tuck your cats away into their carrier, buy a one way train ticket to bumfuck nowhere and set your house ablaze.

Instead you move the chair back in front of the closet, grabbing things from your back bedroom to start your new life on your couch.

Time passes as the trees become more bare, their spindly fingers reaching out to tap the roof at odd hours of the night.

Tomorrow you promised yourself you would run.

And yet you find yourself dressed, lacing up your shoes before slowly opening the door. Your jacket is zipped all the way up, your hair neatly tied back and just as you step foot out the front door a heavy wind rips through the yard causing Denki's unlatched gate to slam. You jump back startled as your fear clings to you like a second skin. The letter begins to overlap in your head and the polaroid photos you had trashed a few weeks ago burn into your retinas. A faint snap and a whirl comes from close by and suddenly your stomach churns. Bile rushes up your windpipe too quickly, slamming the door shut and running to the bathroom. You barely make it as you dry heave into the porcelain bowl, huffing in the air of fresh toilet water. The smell starts a vicious cycle of nausea until finally your clammy skin begins to cool, pressing yourself to the side of the tub. In your panic your skin becomes sensitive, hyper aware of each stitch in your jacket, your sports bra and your jogging leggings. Your rip at your clothes until you peel them off of you, huffing as you scramble to get into the shower.

It does not matter that the water is not yet hot. Hell it isn't even lukewarm still you find yourself in the stream as it becomes scalding. Scrubbing at your skin with soap over and over and over. Nails pulling away already raw skin until that burning water begins to cool. A floorboard creaks overhead causing your head to snap up. The ceiling holds no secrets and yet no answers until you see it. A small hole, one you aren't sure if it's always been there, gaping from the attic over your shower and bath. It's too dark to tell if there is someone peering down at you from above or not.

Instead of freaking out your head slowly tilts away from the haunting discovery. Turning off the water, opening the curtain and wrapping yourself in a towel. As if it were every day you see something like that, as if it were nothing more than a spider lingering that you'd wish to forget.

It's fine It's always been there

But that would be the last time you would take a shower in that house.

Even though you hardly left your couch, things would still go missing in yourself. Things like the remote or one of your hundreds of phone charger cords. Even documents to cases but you didn't care, couldn't care. Otherwise you would break. Shatter.

Your days consisted of lying on the couch and consuming an ungodly amount of television. Doing so until your eyes burned although you begged them to stay open. Sadly everyone needed sleep and so you did. Giving into exhaustion as your eyes fluttered closed and your body weak, relaxing into the comfort of the couch.

Hours are lost to you so you dream and dream. Of a better time or of yourself in one of your files to dissect. Giving yourself that perfect bird's eye view and wondering how the victim never saw it coming.

In your dream you feel something along your face, smooth fingertips trace down your cheek over and over at a lulling pace.

"So perfect." A whispered serenade melding in with a snap and a whirl. A flash of lightning from a passing storm.

Except there was no storm coming in.

Your eyes snap open as you jerk to a sitting position frantically looking around the room. When your eyes find nothing you allow your beating heart to settle back into your numbed state, more than ready to melt into the couch.

Until your stomach growls forcing you to focus on a new problem.

When was the last time you ate? Your stomach had long forgotten about food, choosing to conserve energy in case you needed to run from whatever the hell it was in your head.

Forgoing dressing you place your hand on the knob, wallet in hand. Two sets of glowing eyes watch you from beneath the couch. Twisting the metal to yank the door open you are greeted with cold fall air. The wind whips hair into your face as your mind quickly wanders. You half imagined a man to be standing in the middle of the street. Mouth stretched too far over gleaming teeth, lips parting enough as the wind brings with it the sound of your name.

Frantically you move your hair from your face, eyes searching up and down the street to find no one, nothing.

As it should be at 10am on a weekday. Suddenly the weight of going outside sits on your shoulders, despite the convenience store being a ten minute walk both ways, the thought of you going alone scared you. Slowly you shut the door, falling to your knees before lying face down on your floor openly sobbing.

A creaking board sends you back to high alert, you remove your jacket and decide to order take out instead.

The knocking at your front door jolts you awake, the TV drones in the background with hazed over words as you quickly come to. Heart slamming into your chest before your stomach growls loudly. Right, food.

Your hand hovers over the knob as if suddenly you cannot move, as if the person on the other side of the door is an imposter lying in wait. Another knock comes at the door, he announces who he works for which eases your phobia a bit. You swallow thickly before finally opening the door, hands sweating as the anticipation of the identity of the stranger on your porch.

He seems to check out, his outfit covered in logos for your takeout restaurant of choice, car labeled as such as well. He holds the receipt towards you. His eyes wander over the face of the house, giving you sudden chills.

The question falls from your numb lips.

"D...do you see anyone in the windows?" The delivery guy visibly jarrs, eyes darting to the windows of your room and the living room. Suddenly his face changes as a knowing smile spreads on his lips.

"This is a prank isn't it? For Halloween right?" He chuckles, but when he sees the pen shaking in your grip his face goes stone cold. Eyes darting to your left, to the bedroom windows. He taps the paper, indicating where you need to sign, you take a moment to do so.

The old rotary phone screams from the living room, making you both jump.

"Guess I better get that." You gesture, grabbing for your food. He nods affirmation before stepping off of your small porch a little too quickly.

You slam the front door, appetite washed away by each shrill of the small bell. Hesitantly you reach for it, you have to know, need to know who could be on the other side.

The receiver is cold against your ear, the other line is quiet, although you can hear something soft in the background.

Talking, it sounds familiar, like an echo or almost as if there is a delay. It almost sounds like the same commercial that's playing on your TV right now.

Gently you set the phone down, the soft click echoes in the space around you. You sit on the couch before lying, covering yourself in your blanket as your takeout sits by the door, forgotten.

It wouldn't be too long before it begins to rot, almost as quickly as you.

The phone rings

And rings

And rings.

Nightly in fact, for the next few weeks as you cry silently trying to ignore the sound. Turning up the TV as loud as it can go, 24/7 until finally the speakers blow and you are left with nothing but that shrill shriek. The demand of the small plastic item that was meant to bring to a comforting memory from the past comes more often. Every four hours, every three hours, every hour until finally when it comes to an end it breathes again.

Screaming into the night tearing away your hearing, your sanity until finally you get up from your spot on the couch. Clothes falling away from your frame as they had grown in the time you sat. The time that you watched.

Each step is agonizing as sobs rack through your body, shaking hands making it hard to reach for the cool receiver.

You press it to your ear and for a final time your mind attempts logic. It is just an automated telemarketer, a glitch or determined program but the thought crumbles as your ears strain to hear the soft breath on the other line.

"Please…please stop." You sob into the receiver when no one speaks. The silence deafening as your mind can no longer keep with the charade.

That everything is okay and has always been okay. That the red flags you studied for a living were never there, washed away by your feigned ignorance.

"Finally got a response out of you." A velvet voice chimes, agitation lacing his syllables, "Gods, I just cannot wait to have you. It was worth it you know? Living in your walls for months."

"Why are you doing this?" Your voice barely a whisper, a soggy huff more than anything.

"I'm glad you asked." You body goes rigid, a haze blankets your mind and smothers the scream tearing up your throat.

"Now walk out the door to me. Don't worry I'll bring your cats back to our home later."

You hang up the phone, body moving on it's own as you walk towards the front door. A door you had chosen to avoid and for good reason. But you should have known the danger lied within these four walls. Although your body feels heavy it moves normally despite you trying to fight it. Or as best you can with your worn down mind.and will. It is not as joyous as a moment for you and it is for the man in the street. His lilac hair is illuminated in the moonlight while his amethyst eyes glow iridescent. His smile is as you imagined, twisted and screwed up in such a way it makes your stomach churn. Lips stretched out almost too far over gleaming white teeth. Your face does not reflect your horror as it stays neutral, only your eyes give you way as tears fall from your cheeks.

The answer was there, under your nose, the devil in the details that you normally saw with your bird's eye view. One you didn't have the luxury of for your own story.

"Come now pet. It's time I finally teach you about what it means to be mine."

EPILOGUE

Everything is hazed over and slow, as if watching an old silent movie through the static and snow of the screen. Trying to read their lips to figure out what they are saying only for the text box to come too late.

"Perfect. Now get on your knees kitten. Open wide." You follow his orders numbly body moving on it's own as he smiles down at you. "God, you're so so perfect."

Long fingers tug at his belt before the shrill of a ring tone cuts through the silence. It is the same sound of your rotary phone at home except with an added element. The foreign sound of your whimpers and pleads for the phone to stop can just barely be heard. He looks down at the cell phone and answers.

"Denki, Baby I know I said I would come tonight. I'm just running late okay?" Amethyst eyes rove over to you and it is then that it hits you. The horror of the realization is like ice water dumped over you as you put two and two together.

The first time you saw him, visiting your neighbor over a year ago. It was such a quick exchange, eye contact and nothing more as his lips were pressed to Denki's.

Your mouth goes dry as it hangs open, slowly it becomes uncomfortable.

He changes his voice to sound like someone else's, someone with a gruff deeper tone.

"Oi quit talking to dunce face so we can finish this shit!" He removed the device from his mouth

"I'll be home after this patrol. Love you bye."

He tosses the phone before gripping your chin to spit into your mouth, his hand rests on the hem of his pants.

"Now...where was I?"

#shinsou hitoshi #shinsou x reader #shinso x reader #yandere bnha #shinso yandere #yandere shinso x reader #bnha x reader #bnha harem collab #bnha halloween #bnha spooky

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angst-fairygodmother · 4 years ago

Text

Idiot (Affectionate) ~ A Bad Samaritan Fic

CHAPTER FIVE: US

Pairing: Derek Sandoval x (fem)Reader Word Count: 2868 Rating: T - canon-typical language, reference to Stephen King A/N: The adorable, fluffy early part of a relationship is hard to write, y’all. Especially first dates.

Previous Chapter | Masterlist

“So...you and Derek…” Riley began after you had both placed your orders and found a table.

“What? What about Derek and me? There isn’t a ‘me and Derek,’” you said in a rush. Except that there was, now, and you weren’t sure why you were denying it.

“That’s my point! You’d be good together.”

“Would we?” you asked skeptically.

A voice nagged at the back of your mind, lecturing you about how you knew that already, how of course you were good together, you were more than good, you were perfect foils. You liked bickering and bantering with him, and watching scifi together, and doing terrible impressions of people you both knew, and just talking and being near him. You weren't sure what had happened earlier, but you knew you wanted it to happen again. And that you wanted...to curl up on your couch with your knees tucked up under you and your head on his chest while his arm wrapped around you and held you close, or sit across from him at a restaurant and steal his fries, or make pancakes with him on a Sunday morning in your pajamas (never mind that you'd have to learn how first, for Derek you'd figure it out). You were sure you wanted all of those cute, romantic companionship things, with Derek. So why were you still pretending otherwise?

“Sure. He’s not my type, and he can be a little annoying sometimes, but he makes it work, in his own way.”

Your conversation was momentarily interrupted by your drinks and snacks being brought over. It was just enough time for you to come to a decision.

“You’re really selling him,” you joked, hiding a smile behind your scone. “I’m so convinced.”

“Come on, Y/N. Give him a chance. He might surprise you.”

“Riley, listen. I appreciate what you’re trying to do here, setting me up with Derek, but you are wasting your breath...”

“Why? Give me one good reason not to go out to dinner with him.”

“He hasn’t asked me to?” you squinted your eyes and tilted your head in question.

She sighed. “Okay, you’re right. Hypothetically though, if he did ask, and assuming you both had the night off, and—”

“Riley, can you slow down for a second?” you couldn’t help but laugh as you cut off what was likely to be quite the spiel. After all, she was a business major, and they loved their hypotheticals almost as much as lawyers.

She stopped, or at least paused, and picked up her coffee cup, looking at you expectantly.

“You’re wasting your breath not because my answer would be no, but because...well..he and I sort of...already...hooked up? About,” you checked the clock on your phone, “an hour ago.”

She choked, only just avoiding spraying her latte over you. “What?!”

“Well I mean, not hooked up, hooked up. But there was a lot of kissing, and other stuff. And not a lot of clothes. It probably maybe might have actually ended up as hooked up, hooked up if you hadn’t called,” you grimaced as you tried to explain. “But you cannot tell Sean any of this.”

“Why not?”

You chewed on your lip. “Because it just happened. And I don’t know if it was a one-off, heat-of-the-moment thing. So I don’t want him to know anything until there’s something worth knowing. If there’s something worth telling, he’ll probably end up one of the first to know anyway.”

“Okay, I might let you have that,” she smirked, leaning in. “So tell me more: What’s ‘other stuff’? How few clothes are we talking? How’d it happen? Was it good?”

Your cheeks felt hot with embarrassment as you laughed awkwardly and focused your attention on your drink as a distraction.

“You’re never gonna believe this, dawg,” Derek said, blowing a puff of smoke up into the air. “So I was over at Y/N’s, and we were hangin out, and we started arguing, right?”

“Because that comes as a shock to anyone,” Sean answered, rolling his eyes and taking a long drag before passing the joint back.

“No, no, no, man. That’s not the surprising thing. We’re arguing and all up in each other’s face and then, out of nowhere, she kisses me!” Derek’s grin was wide and a little bit awed as he spoke, forgetting to take another hit.

There was genuine shock on Sean’s face and he seemed at a loss for words, blinking owlishly at his best friend.

“So anyway, there I am, there we are because the most gorgeous woman I've ever seen - no offense to Riley man - is kissing me, so obviously I kissed her back. She didn't taste like I thought she would, apples or somethin, like she always smells, but I guess that's her hair or something, it was…” Derek trailed off for a second, trying to think of exactly how he wanted to describe the taste of kissing her, and then he snapped his fingers, carrying on, “candy canes. Those ones with the extra purple stripe that kinda taste like berries.”

He ignored Sean saying his name, trying to capture his attention and carried on.

“Then, it's not just kissing. Cus she's laying back onto the bed and I'm following and now I'm on top of her and she takes her shirt off. No bra underneath so I've got the perfect view of her sweet, perky—”

“Stop!” Sean yelled, voice echoing off the concrete pillars of the parking garage. “Fucking hell Derek, that's my cousin. Practically my little sister for Christ's sake.”

“What?” Derek frowned, confused for a moment when it finally dawned on him. “Oh shit, man, I'm sorry. I thought since you were cool with me taking a shot...I wasn't thinkin about…”

“It's fine. I only need to bleach out half my brain. I'm happy for you and Y/N, I really am, it's about time frankly, but I don't want to know.”

“Yeah. Yeah no problem man.”

A silence hung over them as they finished their smoke, before suddenly Derek was speaking again.

“I looked up the song while I drove here, and it turns out, she was right. I had nothin to even argue with her about.” He chuckled, the grin creeping across his face again. “I’m glad I did though.”

Several weeks went by and it seemed like things were going back to normal, as if nothing had ever happened. You got busy with school and finals, seeing Derek a lot less often and for shorter blocks, and the timing never seemed right to talk.

One night, you were both hanging out with Sean, trying to cheer him up over the fact that Riley had cancelled on him because of some big presentation for school. While your cousin was out of the room meeting the pizza guy, an odd silence descended over you both for a moment, before Derek turned to face you on the couch.

“What are we?” he asked.

“What do you mean?” you answered, frowning in confusion and mirroring his position.

“We have one killer makeout, then never talk about it. I flirt, I think you’re flirtin back but it’s hard to tell. You call me sweet one second and stupid the next. I just don’t get it, Y/N, and it’s starting to drive me crazy.”

“I like you, Derek. A lot. Like, to the point it kinda scares me if I’m being honest, a lot,” you shrugged, holding your shoulders at your ears. “But...I don’t know. Is this a good idea?”

“This? You mean...us?” He frowned in confusion.

“Is there an us already?” you sighed, voice trembling. “Yeah, I guess I mean, the possibility of an us at least.”

He reached over, taking one of your hands in his. “I don’t want to push you into anything, but I’ll be honest, girl, I can’t stop thinking about you.”

You opened your mouth to make a snarky comment in response and he shook his head, laughing lightly.

“I mean the real you, not just kissin you or seeing your tiddies, although those were nice.”

You shot him a glare, reaching across the gap between you to slap his shoulder in annoyance. He laughed, holding up his hands in surrender.

“You’re so smart, way too smart for me. And fiesty, and hilarious, and sweet. I don’t know, you’re you. And I really like everything about you, all the little things even that make me feel like I got steam comin outta my ears like the Looney Tunes.”

“I…”

“Let me take you out to dinner, or breakfast, or lunch, whenever you’re free. A date though. One date and we can talk about it, whatever’s got you feeling unsure. Please?”

He was looking at you so earnestly that you couldn’t resist saying yes, suggesting lunch on Sunday just as Sean returned. He looked between you with a raised eyebrow and a knowing smirk. You rolled your eyes, stealing the food from him, and Derek pressed play on the movie as Sean settled back into the middle seat.

You paced anxiously up and down the length of your living room, biting on a thumb nail. You paused, debating changing your outfit for the third time. Derek had said he wanted to do the whole package for a date, so he was going to pick you up at your apartment, and drive downtown. Then you’d park and walk together to lunch. It was cute. But it left you with too much time to think while you waited for the text that said he was downstairs.

It was just Derek. Derek who’d been your friend for months now, who could make you laugh no matter what, and who looked at you like you hung the moon when he thought you didn’t notice, and who made your stomach flip. Derek who you’d been fully ready and willing to sleep with a few weeks ago. But this felt different. It was a real date. It was a tipping point, maybe the start of something, or the end.

Your phone buzzed in your hand, making you jump.

‘Hey, I’m here. Want me to come up?’ you read.

If he came upstairs, you could probably convince him to forget the date and the questions and the everything else to pick up where you’d left off the last time he’d been to your place. The thought was tempting. But it was only delaying the inevitable.

‘I’ll be down in a sec,’ you fired back instead, gathering up your keys and purse and hurrying down to meet him.

He was standing on your front step when you got downstairs, greeting you with a surprising hug, which you were happy to return, before you both stepped back and took each other in.

“Damn,” he said with a low whistle. “You look…damn.”

You felt your cheeks flush hotly. Your outfit wasn’t something particularly fancy, but you had tried to dress nicely for him, and to take advantage of the warm spring weather.

“You don’t look so bad yourself,” you teased, smiling broadly at him (code for he looked absolutely jaw-droppingly sexy in his own choice of dressy-casual).

He winked at you and then swept an arm out dramatically. “Your chariot awaits. Shall we?”

“Don’t mind if I do, kind sir,” you affected a posh accent and haughty expression before giggling and practically skipping down the stairs.

The drive, as usual, turned into an impromptu concert (mostly Bon Jovi today) and for the walk to the restaurant and all of lunch, conversation flowed easily. It was comfortable enough that you almost forgot that you had hesitated to agree.

“I hate to kill the mood,” he said after most of your meal was done. “But part of today was supposed be to figuring out us.”

You sighed. There was the other shoe, finally dropping.

“You’re right, it was.”

“So why do you think this is a bad idea?” he cocked an eyebrow at you.

“Straight to the point,” you observed. “I'm surprised.”

He shrugged. “Just wanna get it done. Why dance around?”

“I don’t know. We’re friends, and I like how things are. And you and Sean are friends and if we were to try this...dating or whatever thing, and it didn’t work out I don’t want to lose us or ruin your friendship or,” you sighed. “It just seems like a lot to risk.”

“Sean and I are way too close to let a girl come between us, even if that girl is you.” He smirked teasingly at you.

“Well that makes me feel a little better,” you rolled your eyes, but there was a sincerity to your words that he definitely picked up on. “What if you’re wrong, and we start dating, and it makes things awkward between you and Sean? What if it doesn’t but we break up and then Sean has to pick between his cousin and his best friend? What if we start dating and it doesn’t work out and we lose each other? Because you’re one my best friends, Derek, and I can’t even imagine what life would actually be like without you in it, but it’s a scary thought. What if—”

He reached across the table to rest his hand on top of the fingers you were drumming anxiously on the table.

“Forget what ifs for a second.”

You looked at him skeptically.

“Just work with me. No thinking about the future. If just right now mattered, how would you feel? What would you do?”

“I don’t know. I’d feel...happy? I’d tell you that I’m having a really good time hanging out with you again, and I missed it when I got busy with finals. I’d tell you that color looks really good on you. And that you have chocolate from your pancakes on your lip, but...I think you should leave it there and let me get it…” you were blushing furiously, cheeks practically on fire, and you fought the urge to look down at the table.

He laughed, the sound filling your chest with warmth and effervescence. With a wink, he shifted his chair around the table until his knee bumped into yours.

“Go on then,” he murmured, angling even closer. “Live in just this moment.”

You breath caught in your throat, heart racing.

“Or should I do it for you?”

Your tongue darted out to wet your lips and his eyes traced its path.

“Derek…” your voice was barely above a breath.

And then you were both leaning in, and his hand was braced on the back of your chair, and yours was on the back of his neck. Your lips were on his and his were on yours, and for a second, time and his breath and your heart all stopped. You slid your tongue across his lip and then sucked on it lightly, removing the chocolate stain as promised and making him groan softly. His hand left the chair to curl around your back, trying to angle you closer without pulling you off your chair.

Someone cleared their throat behind you, shattering the moment and making you leap apart. The freckle-faced young waiter stood awkwardly, shifting from foot to foot.

“You...uh...I was asked to come over and tell you that…” he stammered, blushing furiously.

“We’re disturbing the other customers and should keep the PDA for later?” you asked sheepishly, not unfamiliar with the feeling of having to deliver such messages to couples on dates.

He nodded rapidly before turning tail and practically fleeing back to the kitchens. You couldn’t help giggling, especially when you saw the pouting look on Derek’s face. After a moment, he grinned and joined in with your laughter, until you earned another stern look from some of the older folks in the little restaurant around you.

“Maybe we should go?” you suggested, struggling to contain yourself. “I don’t think they like us much.”

“Probably,” he answered, quickly waving down someone to bring your check.

As you walked out together, you impulsively stepped closer. You were just passing through the door and into the afternoon sunshine when you laid your head on Derek’s shoulder, making him stiffen for a moment, before he shifted his stance to make it more comfortable for the both of you, looping an arm around your waist.

“So,” he said as you wandered like that down the sidewalk in no particular direction.

“Hm?”

“What’s this mean then?”

“It means that I like you, a lot. And I like this...us...thing. And I’m still scared, but I want to give it a shot?”

“Okay.” You could practically hear the grin in his voice as his arm tightened to pull you closer.

“And if you ever break my heart, I’ll break your foot.”

“Why my foot?” he laughed.

“Because it’s easy-ish. And it makes it harder for you to leave.”

“Ah, I see. Going a little Annie Wilkes on me?”

“You’ve seen Misery?”

“No. But I liked the book.”

You tilted your head to look more fully at him, gaping.

“What? Am I not allowed to be a Stephen King fan?”

“You never cease to surprise me, Derek Sandoval.”

#am I glossing over too much of the relationship building?#am I packing too many events into a single chapter?#I worry about these things #anyway...more fluff #more cuteness #before the angst that is a'coming #Derek Sandoval x Reader #Bad Samaritan fic #queued for once because reasonably no one is awake at this hour

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sebbybooks · 4 years ago

Text

War of Hearts

Sebastian Stan x Fanfiction

"For some reason, the two of us arguing was

like some sick form of foreplay."

c.l

"It is settled. . . I can't ever leave my house again in the daytime!" I say feeling winded as though I've run a marathon without stopping for any sort of break. I pulled my fingers from out between the blinds as I quickly stepped away from the window. Fearing that he would spot me any second if I stood there any longer. I felt a growing sense of dread rise in the pit of my stomach. It started to tangle itself into all sorts of knots while the sense of realization began to kick in. That paired with a chaotic feeling of rage and excitement flowed through my veins causing a web of mixed emotions as I made my way out of the sunroom. I must have manifested him without even knowing what I was even doing. Or maybe the universe was playing some cosmic cruel prank on me? A tiny part of me just accepted the fact that I was simply destined to have unconventional awkward moments for the rest of my adult life.

"I mean what are the odds Leona?" Sonny called out in amazement from inside of the sunroom as she continued to gaze at the horror scene continue to play out while the movers carried more boxes into the house next door.

"Next to fucking impossible!" My voice rose in a nervous pitch. I wandered over to my sofa and purposely fell face forward on to it. Perhaps if I laid there long enough it would swallow me into it? I would have take any given option offered to me at this point if it meant I wouldn't have to come face to face with Sebastian. It wasn't suppose to happen like this or at all for that matter. It's been two months since I've last spoken to him and after our last conversation I knew that was the final nail in the coffin. I was certain that our paths were never going to cross again. If they did that meant I had made a wrong turn somewhere and ended up in hell.

"Don't you think you are being a tad bit dramatic babe?" I could hear it in the cadence of my best friend's voice that she didn't fully understand the severity of my problem. Boredom on top of being drunk off of wine is a powerful combination that will most likely definitely drag you down a dark and twisted rabbit hole. Signing up for a dating app for example and talking to guys I had zero intention of talking to after a twenty four hour period. But, atlas one had to slip through the cracks and make me fall completely apart over him. I turned my head to face Sonny, "He hates me and to be quite honest the feeling is mutual!"

Clearly glossing over what I had just said to her she continued on, "Look on the bright side at least he wasn't a catfish!"

I released a guttural sound into the pillow. "Terrific. I'll shoot Max and Nev an email to tell them to call off the camera crew." I could hear that she was muttering witty comebacks underneath her breath, however my brain simply chose to block them all out.

I was too busy recounting all the endless nights I lost sleep over talking to Sebastian, making plans that would never see the light. The guy completely interrupted my life. There were moments where I caught myself smiling at my phone when I saw his name flash across my screen. My heart felt like it was going to implode and I got high off of that feeling to the point I became addicted. At night it amplified when I would pace my bedroom floor back and forth like a love struck girl anticipating on what Sebastian would say next. I wish I had a time machine, because I would use it to go back and break my phone into a million little pieces. Foolish, gullible, naive are just a few of the words I would use to describe myself for allowing myself to think that just for a moment any of that was real. So the second I start to move on and phase him out of system completely he moves into the house right next to mine. There was no denying that fate was certainly screwing with me.

"You never even gave me all of the dirty details of what exactly happened between you and sexy jeans." She said wistfully, still drinking him in from the where she stood.

I laughed despite myself. I looked to my friend and said, "Because I would rather picture him falling off of a cliff." I broke into a wide grin before slamming my face back down into the couch cushion.

"I don't believe you." She feigned a sigh, "He is flawless." I could hear the heels of her Jimmy Choos clack louder and louder against the floor as she joined in me in the living room.

"He keeps his flaws well hidden." I said, my voice barely audible with it being pressed into a sofa cushion. Cutting off any air circulation.

"One day you liked him then out of the clear blue sky you didn't.The guy told you he wanted to fuck you in front of a mirror to see every inch of you!" She said in amazement.

"No comment." I muttered.

Sonny huffed. "Well you certainly can not hide from him for long."

I pulled myself upright and slouched back on the couch in a more relaxed position. "Watch me." I said with full confidence.

The rest of the day flew on by in a slow pace. The transition in the sky gave away to its tell tale signs that the time was changing. Sonny and I spent our afternoon mindlessly scrolling through high fashion mood boards on Pinterest. Salivating over the vintage couture and places that were way out of our travel budgets as of right now. Together we planned a hypothetical trip to Northern France so that Sonny and I could visit Claude Monet's garden in Giverny.

It opened up a window of conversation for me to go into a spiel about Monet's love for art and botany. Not even for a second could I mask my fascination for art history. Which costed me a Milano cookie getting thrown in my direction, taking it as my cue to stop my blabbering. I couldn't help myself if I wanted to I had a weak spot for the subject. After all I did need a positive distraction so that my brain could cancel out any and all thoughts of Sebastian that crept into my head.

Usually when the mere thought of him invaded my mind it was very difficult to remove him. I was hardly paying any attention to what my friend was talking about for the last two hours. Though frankly I don't believe she noticed. It took the chiming sound of my doorbell to wake me from my trance.

Sonny stretched her arm out to stop me from getting up." Ahh let me get it! It's time for me to go anyway." She bent down and within a few seconds she retrieved her pumps and swiftly put them on her feet.

"I'm not expecting anyone it's probably just a delivery guy. I'm waiting on a package to arrive today." I tried turning my neck like an owl to get a better view out of the window behind me. I didn't see a postal truck or anyone dressed in uniform for that matter, fleeing like they just lit a fire on my steps. I never fully grasped the concept of why a delivery worker sprinted away like they were in a game of tag.

"Did you by any chance order a man?" She asked with humor laced in her voice.

"What?" I asked in utter confusion, seconds went by and she never responded with an actual answer. I called her name again. Still nothing, I focused my hearing and I could make out the sound of two muffled voiced mingling together from my front door. Curiosity driving my actions I quickly hopped up from the couch tiptoeing around the corner with a smirk on my face. Because I was under the guise that Sonny was flirting with the guy delivering my packages. Like a bad sketch from a variety show I was quickly faced with the reality of the joke. Soon as our eyes locked the charming smile he wore on his face dropped as quickly as mine did.

Sonny leaned her back against the door widening it just enough so that we could see each other. "Damn. Well this should be interesting."

#sebastian stan fic #sebastian stan fanfiction #sebastian imagine #sebastian stan angst #sebastian stan #sebby stan #sebbybarnes #sebbytrash #sebastian stan fandom #bucky barnes imagine #sebastian stan imagine #sebastian stan smut #sebastian smut #mcu fanfiction #mcu smut #marvel imagine #marvel fanfiction #bucky fandom

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thebiasrekkers · 5 years ago

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Edge of Forever [BTS!Space AU]

BTS Space!AU [ ♧ ✪ ✿ ☆ ❂ ☾✘ ] “All the world’s a stage, and all the men and women merely players: they have their exits and their entrances; and one man in his time plays many parts, his acts being seven ages.” The stage is set and the stars are the guide for the lost souls that have congregated to one point. A fixed constant in the universe for others to discover and fulfill their wishes but will it come to ruin for others?

Pairings: BTS X OC (s) Genre: BTS Space!AU Warnings: Graphic Violence, Heavy Language

AO3

Chapter 14- The Last of the Real Ones

"I was just an only child of the universe And then I found you, And then I found you"

He had to pause to make sure he heard her right. Did the Mao just call him a crab ? She was grinning at him as he tried to figure out what it was about that statement that was so funny. After throwing her a judging look, Yoongi couldn’t help but let out the slight breath that could have been mistaken for a laugh. It was more of a scoff but who was taking that into account?

“And you’re just a busybody with too much strength. Why the hell are you out here in the first place? You never answered that question.”

Vairuit leaned against the side, the grin slipping from her face as she really thought about it. She’d been groomed to be a warrior, to take her place with the rest of her family and make something of herself. However, there was something deep inside that was calling to her--just like it had been for Yoongi. Her family was outraged, such talent and brilliance wasted for adventure. Wasted on exploring the vastness of space instead of defending it, she’d heard the spiel many times yet she still wrote back to them to tell them where she was. Because, deep down, she knew that they still cared despite their words and actions.

It was something they’d accepted as they were being groomed and she did not.

“We may not be so opposite after all.. Yoongi. ” Her eyes began to light up as she told him of her grand family. How they wanted her to be an honorable soldier to fight for something bigger than herself. To fight for family and the empire but she just couldn’t accept that. There had to be something else out there that was bigger than that, something out in the darkness that provided a path for her to walk on. Yoongi listened, not a smart remark was given as she spoke. He could feel himself relax, her words oddly soothing to his nerves instead of grating under his skin. That was all that was needed, a line of communication.

Yoongi already knew that he was in the wrong, partly because of his selfishness. But it was all that he’d ever known since making his way across the stars.

There was a silence after she stopped talking. One that seemed to stretch out comfortably once it was all out. The energy that she still gave off didn’t bother him as much. He turned from Vairuit and back to the window, another sigh escaping his lips. His own reflection stared back at him, a cold and hard image until he focused on it. The image changed to one that was worn and thoughtful, Yoongi had a lot to think about. Vairuit started to walk away when his hand snapped out, grabbing her wrist to prevent her from leaving. In that moment, he was lost and still emotional. She paused, looking down at his hand that had grabbed her wrist and lifted an eyebrow at him. Before she could say anything, he let go and walked out of the bridge. Yoongi just couldn’t bring himself to say anything else for fear that he would completely expose everything to her.

Nothing fucking makes sense anymore. He thought as he stomped towards his room. He ended up passing Jimin’s room and he paused, wondering if he should bother him. Opening his mind again, he realized that the younger man shouldn’t be bothered. He could tell that Nyala was in there and judging by their emotions--they were figuring things out themselves. His hand rested on the door, almost in apology that he just couldn’t say with his voice. After touching the cool metal, Yoongi nearly ran to his room to escape everything again. He had to meditate and think everything through, to put everything back where it needed to be.

“So you’re going to wake the thing up and ask it where it hurts?”

Namjoon sighed and looked over the crate again. He’d finally gotten into the thing so he could activate when Jin joined him. The soft, female voice-activated and started a countdown while he set up a makeshift station for him to work on things. The pilot stated asking him questions while he typed in the coding he would need. He either responded with a grunt or a hum until Jin asked him that particular question. He really could do that by himself, the extra mouth not helping his mood any.

“Yes, Jin. I’m going to wake the big bad thing up and I’m going to have it eat you as soon as it's awake because you are in my space.”

“Are all of you gear-heads so grumpy?”

210 seconds until cryogenic deadlocks are lifted.

Namjoon just stared at Jin for a moment before getting back to his work. He pulled up a holographic screen with the schematics of the android while handing the device that was in his hands to Jin. Using his hands, he twisted and maneuvered his way through each part. He could see in closer detail where the affected areas were highlighted in red but there was something odd about the whole thing that he just couldn’t put his finger on. Even Jin got close to peer at what he was looking at, his normally jovial face turning serious as he looked on. Namjoon started to frown more as he got to the chest area, the whole thing being greyed out as to the rest of the body that was either orange with potential activity or red with damage. The grey extended throughout the body, especially the head--almost like a nervous system.

He had to wonder what it was he was missing or that the equipment that he had now was supposed to go in those areas. Most of it that he knew of was just simple parts he had to replace but nothing that extensive.

110 seconds until cryogenic deadlocks are lifted.

He really wouldn’t see until he could start up the activation sequence. Jin pushed a bit closer to Namjoon, looking even harder at the schematic. It had started to bother him too, his eyes that were able to see things that others couldn't. He had a theory but one that could potentially be hazardous to them all.

“I wonder, Namjoon…” Jin walked up to the crate, which has started to hiss and let out steam as it was working on the security features. “What if this is something more?”

Namjoon paused and looked at the crate himself. He tilted his head as he attempted to understand what Jin meant. So he gave the man a questioning look and a hand gesture, so he could continue what it was he was thinking. Jin turned around and called out for Kibeth, the male voice calmly announcing that it was there.

“Pull up a schematic of a human body. We’ll say mine for reference and compare it to the full body schematic of this android.” The AI did so, now two full-body views of whole beings. Jin looked at Namjoon before continuing, “What the common factor between the both of them?”

They both appear to have nervous systems running through each one, as a start.

Kibeth highlighted the intricate webbing that was seen greyed out on the Android’s schematic and the same for Jin’s. That alone made both of them worried about what they were doing, not even listening to what the AI was saying next. Before they could continue any further, the lid of the crate suddenly popped open with the female voice announcing that the countdown was complete.

They both peered at what was inside, trying to get some of the coolant and gas to clear so they could see better. After the gas had cleared, the both of them suddenly jumped back in shock--the sight of what they saw had them almost tripping over everything, including each other.

“IT’S A NAKED GIRL IN THERE!”

“THAT’S NOT AN ANDROID!”

Inside the crate, curled up neatly into the small space was a woman with long blond hair. Four metal cylinders rose from the corners of the crate and started to blink. Both Namjoon and Jin exclaimed at the same time, now realizing what it was that they were dealing with. They had only heard of such things being used in certain cases but the actual effect of having one was pretty much banned by most societies. They had to turn their eyes away from the smooth skin of the Bio-Android, a bit embarrassed that they had viewed such a thing in its most vulnerable form.

Cryogenic deadlocks released. Proceed to cryogenic reanimation?

The crate kept asking them the same question, it needing a yes or no answer for it to continue. Jin shoved the device into Namjoon’ hands, who them shoved it back to Jin. The little game of who should do what continued for a few minutes until they got a hold of themselves. If they did not make an answer soon, then the thing would probably wake up regardless. However, it would cause the android to wake up with all the full-body functions as a human as well. And if it was damaged, they would need more than just an engineer to fix the thing.

“Look, I know I said I can fix anything but I’m also not a doctor either. We could wake this thing up but with its bio components, I won’t be able to do much. We need a doctor to help us.” Namjoon summarized for Jin, who gave him a wide-eyed look.

“Do I look like I know a reputable doctor? One that’ll help us ? If this thing is needed to get this ship up and fully running, we might be out of luck.”

Namjoon sighed and placed the device down that had ended up back in his hands again. When they were asked again to confirm, he calmly said no and the cylinders lowered themselves again. They had hit a snag that they really weren’t expecting and with them hurtling towards their first stop, their journey might have been over before it even begun.

#btswriterscorner #btswriterscollective #hyunglinenetwork #ficwithluv #btsbookclub #bts #space!au #bts fanfic #bts fanfiction #thebiasrekkers presents #edge of forever #kim seokjin #min yoongi #jung hoseok #kim namjoon #kim taehyung #park jimin #jeon jungkook

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questionablewritings · 6 years ago

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(i already sent you a message abt this but) a prompt abt. peter dealing with "teenage hormones" (you know the ones i mean)

With round 2 of the Tumblr purge coming upon us, I might as well go big before I go home! Let the witch hunt commence.

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It made sense for the community to have an actual park accompanied with a fully decked out playground, but Peter hadn’t expected it to be this big. Standing at the arched entrance, with Tony’s hand gripping his, Peter felt dumbfounded. Just how big was this community? It had it’s own town, separate neighborhoods, daycares, and now...it’s own replica of central park? Off to the right was a miniature lake, ducks, geese, fish and all, and in the middle sat fields of open fresh grass. Both were impressive, considering Peter had never been brought to this part of the community before now, but what really took the cake, was the insane children's play area to the left.

“Where would you like to go first, Peter?” Tony asked, head tilting down so he could peer at his little boy through the tinted sunglasses. The teen inwardly shrunk in on himself, absolutely dreading doing anything because he had lost the comfort of being out of the public eye. Today, it would just be Tony and Peter. Steve had decided to stay back and finish up his days work so that they could all have a nice family dinner. So at least whatever Peter picked, it wouldn’t be as bad as doing it with the both of them present.

Tony, after receiving no answer, decided to pick for him. Without missing a beat, Peter was guided over to the busy playground and suggestively pushed forward in it’s direction. He should’ve known that Tony would pick this area of the park first. Something about watching Peter interact with more regressed ‘littles’ lit the twisted parental fire within him. Peter stumbled forward slightly, his hand tightening around Tony’s as the male continued to drag him further into the chaos. It was a beautiful day, a little chilly, but the sun was still shining and the breeze was pleasant if you were dressed appropriately.

There was no surprise as to why the park was packed with parents bringing their little ones out to play. Peter quite suddenly wished he had sucked it up and chosen the lake first. At least then he wouldn’t be the sudden center of attention. The moment Tony Stark entered a room, or in this case, a playground, all eyes, both parent and little, were on them. Peter swallowed, eyes casting downward as Tony politely waved and smiled to anyone they passed on their way to the sand pit. “How about you build Daddy a nice big sand castle, yeah?” Tony suggested, releasing Peter’s hand once they reached the rectangular patch of soft sand.

It’s not like Peter had much of a choice. There was only one other person playing in the sand, a male probably a few years older than Peter. He seemed pretty occupied with filling his buckets with the tiny shovels, but as soon as Peter begrudgingly stepped into the area, the males attention was all on him. “Mommy, Mommy! Can he play with me?” The guy spoke, making Peter inwardly cringe. Tony chuckled, glancing up at the woman, who was so obviously this young adults ‘Mommy’. The lady nodded her head with an affectionate smile, and Peter hardly had time to sit before the dude was impeding on his personal space. A bucket was shoved into his hands, but Peter’s eyes were....elsewhere.

As Tony moved to stand beside the woman, Peter couldn’t help but give her a once over. She was gorgeous, her hair falling down past her shoulders in soft raven colored waves that somehow matched the elegance of her brightly stained lip color. Although it was chilly outside, the weather did little to effect how she dressed. The woman wore a tight dress that exposed her long silken legs along with black pumps to match. It was an odd outfit to wear to the park, but Peter wasn’t complaining. In fact, he couldn’t stop staring.

The guy across from him hadn’t seemed to notice Peter’s lack of shoveling, but Tony never missed a single thing that involved his boy. His lips pursed together, but he kept silent as the woman, newly introduced to the community, spieled into a story about how she came to the knowledge of their special lifestyle.

It wasn’t until the boy gasped, did the woman, and Peter, turn their attention back to him. “I found a ladybug! Look, Mommy, look!” He exclaimed, and pointed down to the interior of his bucket. The woman obliged her little boy, and stepped forward, leaning down to peer inside the neon green rim. Peter nearly sputtered as the woman’s cleavage went on full display, his entire face drowning in a bright pink color of dread. The top of her breasts looked so soft...so touchable and desirable. Peter squeaked to himself, immediately moving the bucket in his hands as he felt a familiar sensation traveling to the pit of his gut.

Arousal.

The children's toy looked ridiculous being placed so awkwardly on his lap, but Peter had to do something to hide his growing erection. It’d been weeks since his last one, and luckily for him it had happened during an erotic dream during the night. Never did he think he’d be caught with one in public, let alone, in front of one of the husbands. The lady had stood back up, tucking the strand of hair that had fallen out of place back behind her ear. She frowned, glancing over to Peter with slight concern. “Sweetie are you alright? Do you not like bugs?” She asked, but Tony’s laughter cut her off.

“He’s just a little shy. You’ll have to excuse us, I think it’s time for a snack.” Tony spoke, stepping into the sand pit himself. That wasn’t good. Tony Stark never enjoyed dirtying his belongings, especially expensive name brand shoes. Sturdy hands ducked under Peter’s armpits, lifting him from off the ground. Peter made another noise, and dropped the bucket in the process of being lifted. He wasn’t going to get spanked for this, was he?! It wasn’t his fault! It was a normal bodily function and Peter, no matter how hard he tried, could not control it! The male in the pit waved a saddened goodbye, but Peter didn’t bother to wave in response. He had far worse things to deal with. The way Tony was carrying him did the opposite of help Peter’s arousal.

He was only a teenager! His hormones went insane when they shouldn’t, and despite his humiliation within the moment, he couldn’t help but bury his face into the side of Tony’s neck. “Hey, hey...it’s okay. Let’s go to the car.” Tony whispered into his ear as he carried Peter through the playground and towards the park’s parking lot. By the tone in Tony’s voice, he didn’t sound irritated or upset. The man actually sounded understanding... Peter furrowed his eyebrows in confusion, only lifting his head when he heard the click of their car being unlocked. “I’m sorry! I’m so, so sorry!” Peter immediately gushed out as he was placed into his car seat. His erection still remained, thanks to the friction of rubbing against Tony’s hip, but Tony refused to look down at it.

“Peter. It’s okay.” Tony stated again, reaching out to swipe away the tears that had somehow ended up falling down while Peter drowned in his own embarrassment. “Sometimes it happens, and that’s okay. Daddy knows it wasn’t your fault.” He continued, only making matters more confusing. Peter wasn’t sure if he should be thankful, or upset by how his kidnapper was reacting. He was happy that Tony didn’t touch him inappropriately, not that he ever expected the male to. After spending months with the husbands and receiving absolutely no sexual touching besides being helped with potty time, Peter accepted that they really weren’t going to molest him or rape him. What Peter was really thankful for, was that he didn’t get punished for this.

But as Tony continued to coo and shush away Peter’s hot tears, the teen almost wished he had gotten punished for this. It would’ve been easier to handle than being treated like his erection was just some silly thing that Peter couldn’t understand.

“It’s your body trying to be a big boy, but it’s not ready for that. Whenever you feel that way, it is very important not to touch yourself.” Tony was speaking low, but soft. Somehow, Peter knew that this was both a threat and a lecture all in one. “You just come tell Daddy or Papa, and we’ll find someway to get your mind off it. Okay? Only naughty, bad little boys touch themselves, and your Papa and I will not condone such behavior. Is that understood?”

Peter was stunned, staring at Tony with damp lashes that fluttered in response. What the hell was he supposed to say to that? His throat felt tightened, but he knew that it was important to use words. Tony always required a vocal admission. “Y-Yes Daddy, I understand.” Peter whispered, relieved when Tony only smiled in return. “That’s my good boy.” Tony praised, patting Peter on the top of his head. “Now, how about we get a snack, and after you’re feeling better we can go back and try again?” Peter chose not to respond as Tony moved to the passenger seat where Peter’s play bag sat tucked underneath the seat. “But I think we’ll stay away from the sand pit.” Tony added with a chuckle, making Peter sink down into his car seat in shame.

At least his erection was shrinking. How could it not after a conversation like that?

#starker #tony and peter #fanfiction #itsy bitsy spider

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jd07201990 · 7 years ago

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Well, I guess there are worse fates than ending up the absolute epitome of a, “Prettyboy Meathead” who’s “All Brawn and no Brain” or a, “Smelly Brute”

You see, I used to be the captain of the Chess Club. Short, scrawny, specky redheaded beanpole with acne, a lisp, stuttering with anxiety. But now, They really did a number on me... Who’s they? The football team! That’s who! They’d been bullying me ever since I transferred to this school, having argued for home schooling instead, but losing out and ending up a freshman here. They targeted me right off the bat, first day, “fresh meat” as they called me, while throwing me into a dumpster. This repeated itself for a few weeks, until finally I’d had enough, and lost it.

Yup, I admit it, I lost it. Total tantrum. But I swear, I didn't mean to break the quarterback’s ankle! All I’d meant to do is... well, I mean I didn’t know what I meant to do, I just charged at him, screaming about how they were all just pretty trophy boys, worthless mindless meatheads, disgusting sweaty animals, plowing head first into his rock solid abs. We both went tumbling down the wheelchair ramp, myself stopped by a column, while he continued, crashing into a display case and howling in a deep rumbling rage.

That afternoon, when the nurse and the ambulance EMT’s concurred that his ankle was shattered in 2 places, taking him off the roster for the big game and chance at the championship, the team was not so thrilled with me. Hell, the whole damn school wanted to lynch me! I had to leave early, my parents getting a phone call to pick me up. I was reamed out the whole way home. My mother nearly had an asthma attack she was screeching so loud.

My dad, while still joining in on the reaming, seemed almost, proud. There was a little shimmer in his eye that I’d never seen before. It lasted only a second though as my mom hit her stride and went into full parental meltdown. I’d never seen her this angry.

Only a day passed before we got a call from the school. I was expelled, unless my parents and I agreed to a few demands. My mother, trying to save my academic career, agreed before even hearing them. My dad though, agreed to a meeting with the Principal, and oddly, the coach of the Football team.

Heading over to the school was like a motorized death march. The car ride dead silent, treading into the school and down to the Sports offices where both the Coach and Principal were having a heated debate. I only caught a blurb or two before they noticed us and quieted down. Something about “coach’s special training”

I found out during the hour long meeting, that the Coach had me in mind for replacing Blake, the Quarterback I’d taken off the field. Everyone, including the principal had their reasons as to why I couldn’t, myself as well, but Coach wouldn’t have it. He claimed that he could have me in playing condition before the big game, and, if I played, I could keep going to school, the expulsion would be voided.

Again, my mom agreed fully, signing the forms before my dad could stop her. My dad though, asked questions. The answered were vague, everything was about “focus, drive, determination, and making up for my mistakes” After a good 25 minute spiel, my dad too signed the form, signing my academic life away to a man who was quite literally an entire team’s worth of brawn packed into one.

Long story short, the game was in 6 weeks. My training started immediately, as well as a strict diet, supplements that coach provided, all of my study halls and my time on the chess team was forfeited to Coach, during which I was to watch football videos and take notes.

Weird thing is, after a few videos and days taking the supplements, I couldn't really take notes... Strange, as I’d been a straight A Student. I just couldn’t. It was too boring. Even stranger, I couldn’t sit still. My body felt jolted and alive, my muscles aching and warm, feeling like they were going to burst off of me. I sat, squirming in my seat watching the videos, mindlessly taking in the plays, when, day by day, my body seemed to change.

First came the sweat. No matter how little I was active. Even just sitting at school or home, I was sweating, sometimes profusely. Soaking through my clothes, and, rather embarrassingly, stinking through my deodorant and body wash. by day 3, I reeked, constantly, I could smell myself. People noticed as well, the football team calling me stinky, and Jockstrap. Others moved away from me in the halls, or left seats empty near me in classes. However, sometimes I’d catch some of the prettier girls, especially the ditzy Barbie type, taking side glances at me, their eyes lingering on me for a moment before shaking their heads and running off giggling

Then came the muscle spasms and odd unexplained growth spurts. I was a late bloomer, short and thin. but each passing day added a bit of height, a bit of weight, becoming more solid and dense. I had one night in particular where I woke up screaming in pain as my body cracked and expanded, until I’d ended up a week later, 6′2″ 140lbs or so, looking solid, but not brawny. Well, not brawny, YET.

After the growth spurts, the videos lessened, and it was time for on field practice. Alone at first, then with the team. I can’t remember most of it, Coach would say something strange to me, and I’d lose track of time, waking up dazed and dizzy in the locker room with a towel around my waist, wet from the shower, or naked soaping up my body mindlessly as the hot water boiled away my thoughts.

I noticed now that I had bushy, wiry hair under my arms, and a dense collection around my groin, which, after the 4rth practice wearing a cup, felt packed and swollen. Each night I was jerking off load after load, feeling as if each jet caused my balls to swell and churn, until after a week, I had a veritable salami between my legs, with egg sized nuts in a musky, furry sack. The team took notice too, and started calling me Donkey. a nickname that encompassed my densely packed bulk, my large pendulous cock, and the always constant reek of musty stink coming off my body.

It was at this point that my mother tried to stop the whole thing. She cried when she watched my grades plummet, watched me get bigger, brawny and brutish, while out nightly dinner talks about the day and world news skidded to a halt, replaced by football, coach, the team, girls. My dad however, loved every moment! He’d even helped me move out all of my nerdy crap from my room, to replace it with a weight bench and a shelf for future trophies.

After practiced and the changed to my body, coach had me work up my arms to beefy, thick bulging dense pythons, my biceps rounded, with a vein running down its length even at resting. My chest as well, widened my shoulders and held my pads up like a statue. I was quite built now, lumbering round at about 162lbs, when he stopped me after a grueling workout, held my head in his hands and said it was time for the last details in my reparations for ruining his star player.

I couldn’t move, couldn’t speak, as he brought out a tin with gel inside, a pair of cleats that looked about 4 sizes too big, and a jockstrap and cup that seemed to pulsate menacing in his hand. without pause, he greased up his gloved hands and smeared the gel into my hair. it burned, and smelled of sulfur. I thought he was going to make me bald! Until I felt my hair thickening, rustling on its own with the gel mixing with my sweat, leaving me with an oddly boyish, yet decidedly bro-like Bieber cut. I could see my reflection in one of the mirrors, my hair was that of one of those pretty boys you see on TV! Thick and luscious, styled perfectly to the side, it’d stay like this without effort, as I found out soon after.

Then he forced me to sit on the bench behind me, took off my size 12 workout sneakers, tossed them across the room into a bin for lost and found items, and stuffed my feet into the huge cleats he’d brought in. My bare foot sunk into the sole of the cleat, feeling its warm, slimy texture. It felt like it’d recently been warn by a whole team during a month’s worth of games and practices. My feet itched intensely, all I could do was grunt In protest as the material seemed to tighten around my toes. Odd though, they didn't seem to be moving. Hearing a few harsh, cracking pops and feeling searing pain in my feet, then a disgusting, foul smell rising upward, Coach took the cleats off, and I was staring down at a pair of size 16 boats. Long splayed toes shining with sweat in the fluorescent lighting, stinking up the room, looking masculine and raunchy. He covered his nose with his collar and muttered, “fucking athlete’s foot, always brutal” as I felt the burning sensation between my toes.

Then, as I tried to use my new strength to break Coach’s hold on me, he pulled down my gym shirts, then my jockstrap, letting my hefty, hairy meat free. He wolf whistled, giving me a wink as he slipped the jockstrap up my legs, then stuffed the cup in the pouch, hefting my cock and balls into it. I was right, it was pulsating! It felt like it was gripping my package, squeezing hard, then letting go, repeating over and over rhythmically. As it did so, I could feel my balls churning up a thick, heavy load, while a sudden head rush seemed to knock my brain out of my skull. I felt high, dizzy, horny, as my entire body seemed to warm up, then it felt like I was boiling on the inside, as a dim, dull rag seemed to fill my head. I felt my crotch start to itch, and a burning in my throat. I grunted, them moaned, my voice cracking harshly upward, embarrassingly, before dropping low and dumb, a deep, dim sounding baritone rumble.

M head filled with thoughts of wild, aggressive games, fucking like a stallion, working out till I couldn’t move, all while the cup seemed to milk up a steady drizzle of precum that, I’d find out later, would continue to pour from me at the slightest thought of passing glance of a pretty chick. I felt the need to pound my opponents into the dirt on the field, my whole body in fire, as coach whispered all my new desperate desires for sports, sex, being a man, filling me with pent up needs. Then, he ripped the jock and cup off me as my eyes rolled back in my head, told me to get changed into the outfit you see above, for my Team photo in the yearbook. I grunted, “fuck yeah” and dressed, stating at the Smelly brute, with the pretty boy good looks and dim, no brains behind the eyes state, as he took my photo, and I filled my pants with cum.

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