#i tried to get a former friend into them when we were kinda falling apart because i though itd be something to bond over | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

hermannsthumb · 3 years ago

Note

I have a fun prompt I've been thinking about I hope you have time for one day! When Newt and Hermann meet actually things go really really well and they even get together. It's just they bicker so much and have huge science-based arguments that everyone assumed they must have hated each other on sight.

sure thing! i had fun with this one

----

"So," Newt says. "I was talking to Tendo today."

Across the mess table, Hermann hums in feigned interest. Newt knows it's feigned 'cause Hermann doesn't stop either thing he's doing: using his left hand to wind noodles around a fork, and using his right hand to scribble away a series of lengthy equations on the back of a paper napkin. His full attention has been hopping between both for about ten minutes now—no room for Newt to slip in there. He's testing his limits enough as it. Half of the last equation ended up scratched into the tabletop, and the last time he lifted his fork to his mouth, it was empty. And then he swallowed anyway. Newt kinda loves the guy.

"Yeah," Newt says, deciding to continue like Hermann responded the way he was actually supposed to respond, which would've been something along the lines of what an utterly fascinating story, Newton, do tell me more. I love hearing you talk, Newton. How marvelously smart you are, Newton, and how melodic and breathtaking your voice is. Now watch me bite down on an empty fork again. "Kinda funny. He was asking how we met."

Hermann finally looks up at Newt suspiciously over the rims of his glasses, which are slipping slowly down his nose. He stills them with the tip of his index finger before they land in his dinner. "Why?"

"I don't know, man," Newt says. "He just was. It was like, small talk, you wouldn't get it. He dropped by the lab when you were out this morning to let me know that there was extra space if we wanted it. Like, lab space." Hermann resumes scratching an equation into the table absently. Newt rolls his eyes. "As in, we could have separate labs if we wanted now."

Hermann knits his eyebrows together. "Separate laboratories?"

When Newt and Hermann first started at the Hong Kong Shatterdome, the k-scientist team was pre-existing and significantly bigger, and anyone who joined on later—like, you know, them—basically got shoved in wherever they fit. For Newt and Hermann, that happened to be Laboratory Space D, Basement Level 1 (the only basement level), along with a former marine biologist who was killed on a research excursion a month later when a kaiju made unexpected landfall, like, right on top of their chosen shelter. Bad luck. Anyway, Newt's known about the existence of other Hong Kong Shatterdome lab spaces in the vague and absent sort of way that you would an urban legend, but (similarly so) he never thought he and Hermann would actually ever lay eyes on one. And then Tendo stopped by to dangle it in front of Newt on a stick.

"The other labs were being used as storage for ages after everyone else—" Newt searches for a word tasteful enough to encapsulate got stomped by a kaiju and wised up and decided to live out what are probably our last few days before the world ends with their families instead of alone in a military bunker. "—left. Anyway, Tendo told me they've been going through shit like crazy this month, I think to see if they can salvage any old tech, and that the other labs are basically totally emptied out now. We just have to ask and they're ours."

Hermann sets down both his pen and fork, twisting his mouth contemplatively. He finally loses the battle against gravity with his glasses, and they miss his plate by an inch, swinging back on their chain and bouncing harmlessly against his chest instead. Newt briefly wonders if getting a chain for his own glasses would save them from their frequent fatal falls into kaiju organ cavities and buckets of non-neutralized kaiju blood, but decides not even the money he'd save on replacement pairs would make a fashion faux pas like that worth it. "You know I don't much fancy the basement," Hermann says.

"Your joints," Newt agrees. The damp of the basement sets Hermann's joint pain off frequently, something Hermann talks about just as frequently. Newt's not really a fan of the basement either, though for different reasons—he would kill to get some windows and natural, non-fluorescent light in there. Sun lamps can only do so much. He's pretty sure he'd fucking glow if he stepped outside right now. Also, it's cold down here.

"And it might be nice to be closer to LOCCENT, in case of an emergency," Hermann continues. "And closer to—oh, hang on. What has this got to do with us?"

"Huh?"

"How we met," Hermann says. "You said, that Tendo asked—"

"Oh," Newt says. It's his turn to play coy. He stirs his chopsticks through his own dinner, accidentally flicking a piece of tofu to the table. It lands on top of Hermann's etched equations. Hermann scowls, because that's how their routine goes: Newt gets Hermann's stuff dirty, and Hermann gets mad. "Well. It was just that Tendo was like you can finally be out of each other's hair, how the hell did you guys get stuck together anyway when you obviously can't stand each other, that kind of stuff."

"Ah," Hermann says.

"And I said that it was because we knew each other before," Newt says, "and that we transferred here together. And that's when he asked."

"And what did you say?" Hermann says.

"That we used to correspond professionally," Newt says, "and met at a conference way back in 2017." He adds, with a grin, "Also professionally."

This was technically true. Newt and Hermann did write to each other, professionally, and they did meet at a conference, professionally, but what went down after a long and public shouting match in the events hall of a very nice hotel—in Hermann's room, five floors up in that very nice hotel—was not very professional. The events of the week that followed—spent, intermittently, between Hermann's hotel room, several coffee shops, a bench under a tree in Newt's favorite park, a rotation sushi restaurant, brushing knees shyly on the tram, and, finally, clasping hands on the staircase of Newt's apartment and gazing deeply into each other's eyes—weren't very professional, either, but Newt likes to think that they were very romantic. Rom-com level shit. Newt revealed none of this to Tendo, who referred to the 2017 conference as that Infamous Day for the rest of their conversation. "Well, it was professional," Hermann sniffs.

But he reaches across the table, and, very timidly, crosses his pinkie over top of Newt's. It's the most blatant form of PDA Hermann ever willingly engages Newt in. Newt thinks if he ever tried to touch two fingers at once in anywhere but the lab, or God forbid, hold his whole hand, Hermann's ears might start emitting steam like something out of a cartoon. "It might be nice," he says again.

Laboratory Space D, Basement Level 1, is unique—Newt knows—in that Newt and Hermann's quarters are connected to it directly. None of the other labs have that luxury (and Newt has a feeling it's because Lab Space D wasn't actually intended as a lab space). He remembers being told that when they were shoved into it. Yeah, you have the darkest and tiniest lab space on base, but your rooms are right there! When Newt wants to go to Hermann's room, or if he's in Hermann's room and needs a sweatshirt or something from his own, he just has to step the three feet between their two doors. Moving labs could throw a wrench in that—they might be asked to move quarters, too, and might be shuttled to opposite sides of the Shatterdome, and though they could just bite the bullet and request couple's quarters already, it's nice to have their own spaces when they need it. That would never work. And, well, besides—the lab, their lab, feels like home to them at this point. Newt shrugs.

"On the other hand," Hermann says, and he taps Newt's pinkie lightly, "I quite like how things are. I can live with the damp, really."

"We can get a dehumidifier," Newt offers.

Hermann nods, and he gives Newt the barest hint of a smile.

Their monthly delivery of lab supplies—whatever they can afford with their shoestring budget, which, these days, mostly means chalk, rubber gloves, and nice instant ramen—comes three weeks later. Newt wouldn't exactly call the Shatterdome delivery guy a friend, seeing as he has yet to divulge his name to Newt (and also Newt's pretty sure he has a thing for Hermann, since he always seems to wait until Hermann is in the lab to stroll by with his package trolley and always calls him Dr. Gottlieb with big stupid heart eyes, oh, Dr. Gottlieb, that new sweater looks soooo nice on you!, so anyway, that makes him Newt's rival by default), but he, at least, recognizes and acknowledges Newt at this point. That's more than Newt can say for most people on the base. After his usual greeting to the two of them (hey, Newt, oh, hellllooo, Dr. Gottlieb, did you do something new with your hair?), he starts to unload their packages, also like usual.

"I was surprised to see that you guys are still down here," he tells Newt, not like usual. "Tendo mentioned something about you getting your own labs."

"He did?" Newt says, meaning to frown, but grinning instead. It's kind of fun to be the subject of gossip. He pulls off his gloves and tosses them in the trash to help with their supplies—the dehumidifier he requested should be in there, and it's fancy and definitely on the bigger side.

"Yeah," their delivery guy continues. He hands Newt a fuckin' massive brick of a package. Hermann's stupid chalk. The amount that Hermann tears through in a month really is astounding: Newt has a private theory that Hermann is an undercover space alien from a planet where chalk constitutes all of the primary food groups, and he secretly sneaks out here and eats it in the dead of night when Newt is asleep. "Anyway, sorry I'm late," the delivery guy says, as Newt imagines Hermann crunching on a piece of chalk like a carrot stick, "I went to all the other labs first."

"No worries, dude," Newt says. "Sorry for the confusion."

He lugs the package over to Hermann's desk, and drops it down on the only spot not over-cluttered with papers and books. Hermann complains about Newt's messiness a lot for a guy who is just as bad, if not worse. "Need any now?" Newt asks Hermann.

Hermann, scribbling away at his chalkboard, grunts. Newt decides that's a no.

"Hard at work, Dr. Gottlieb?" the delivery guy says, practically fluttering his eyelashes.

Another grunt. Newt snorts.

"I thought you guys would've moved right away," the delivery guy (obviously disappointed at Hermann's lack of attention) tells Newt. "Tendo mentioned you've been stuck together for a while, ever since some sort of dramatic confrontation at a conference ten years ago." he adds eagerly, "Did you really get thrown out? I don't know how you haven't killed each other yet."

"It's taken a lot of hard work," Newt says. Yeah, the whole being-ejected-from-the-conference-and-barred-from-all-future-ones-forever thing is technically true too, but everyone there was too stuffy and serious for Newt's fun vibes anyway, so he thinks it's their loss. The most important part of the scientific breakthrough process, Newt frequently thinks, was having someone there to challenge you and push back at you. Sometimes loudly. And in public. In the conference hall of a very expensive hotel, in front of all of your scientific peers, some hotel security guards, and a poor graduate student who made the mistake of asking you and your penpal-colleague for your joint opinion on something and got caught in the crosshairs. Besides—out of everyone at that stupid conference, Newt and Hermann were the only ones snapped up by the PPDC, so it's doubly their loss. "And, yeah, we got thrown out. Me and Hermann fight a lot, but we always make up eventually. It's no big deal. It's, like, our thing."

"Make up?"

Newt waggles his eyebrows and doesn't elaborate. The making up part is the best part of arguing with Hermann, honestly, but he's not about to go giving private details about stuff like that to his rival.

By the time Hermann finally descends his ladder, three hours have passed, and Newt is frowning over an email he's just gotten from Shatterdome HR. Hermann will probably see it in a second when he checks his own email—it was sent to both of them, after all—but Newt waves him over to his desk anyway. "Look," he says.

He draws out the spare chair he keeps by his desk (for Hermann), and Hermann drops into it gratefully, propping his cane up against the arm. Then Hermann pushes his glasses up onto his nose and scans the email with a frown of his own. Newt reads it aloud for him anyway. "'Subject: Quarters Reassignment,'" he says. "Dear Drs. Geiszler and Gottlieb: It has recently come to our attention that you will be transferring to Laboratories A&B. Should you wish to transfer quarters as well, you will find the necessary paperwork..."

"By Jove," Hermann groans, and pulls his glasses off again, smudging a bit of chalk on his cheek, "can't they just leave us alone?"

Newt laughs. "I'll tell them we're not interested. Wait, listen to this bit at the end: Congratulations—this must be a relief! Guess they were getting your complaint forms after all, Hermann." Both Newt and Hermann had long-since assumed that any and all official complaint forms stamped with a k-sci lab return address are filed right into the garbage. It's never deterred Hermann from sending them in, though.

"Hmph," Hermann says.

Newt carefully rolls his shirtcuff back down to his wrist and uses it to rub off Hermann's chalk smudge. When it's gone, or at least, mostly gone, he brushes his fingers back through Hermann's short hair. Hermann's eyelids flutter shut, and as he leans into Newt's touch, his creased forehead smooths just a little. "Mm. You're lovely," he murmurs. "We really ought to tell them we're married. It's gone on long enough."

"I guess," Newt says. "But it's kind of funny, isn't it?"

#newmann #maria's fanfiction tag #Anonymous

186 notes · View notes

luci-in-trenchcoats · 4 years ago

Text

Once In A Lifetime

Summary: While at a brewery the day before her sister’s wedding, the reader runs into her once in a lifetime fling, Dean, for the third time. It’s been fours years since they’ve seen each other and eight since they met but the timing’s never seemed to work out between them until maybe now...

Pairing: Wedding Date!Dean x reader

Square: Wedding Date!AU

Word Count: 2,100ish

Warnings: language, fluff

A/N: Written for @supernatural-jackles Tell Me A Story Bingo. Enjoy!

______

“Y/N fucking Y/L/N,” you heard as you were mid chew of eating your piece of pizza. You spun around and swallowed, a big grin crossing your face.

“Dean!” you said. You ditched your table with your family and ran over to him, Dean giving you a big hug and swinging you around. “You look great!”

“You got even better looking, sweetheart,” he grinned as he set you down. You bit your bottom lip and he blushed a bit. “You look good, Y/N. Never expected to see you again, especially Kansas City of all places.”

“I’m in town for a family wedding. I thought you lived in LA?” you said.

“Used to. I own this place,” he said. “How long’s it been?”

“Four years. Another four before that,” you said.

“So much for once in a lifetime,” he smirked.

“Still a boy in there, aren’t you, Dean.”

“A bit,” he smiled. “Older too.”

“Same. We were just kids back then.”

“We’re still kids. We just got most of our shit together now,” he said.

“Oh yes. Still single and still working a job I hate. I so got my shit together,” you said.

“I wear makeup for a living so you’re doing better than me,” he said. “Also still single.”

“I thought you dated some actress or something a while back.”

“Didn’t work out. Put my head down, been working a lot lately,” he said. “Am I about to meet your fangirl sister you told me about?”

“Oh God,” you said as you caught Georgia wandering over from your table with Scott. “I am so-”

“Hi!” she said and you groaned. “Do you know my little sister?”

“Y/N and I go way back,” said Dean. Georgia slapped your arm and you whined.

“You’re friends with him and you didn’t tell me!” she said.

“Oh well we haven’t seen each other in years,” said Dean. Georgia looked at you and you shook your head, her own nodding.

“He’s Italy Dean, isn’t he. Dean Winchester is freaking Italy Dean!” she said and Scott covered her mouth, shaking his head.

“Gia, let’s leave your sister to catch up with her friend in peace, hm?” he said.

“This is why I love you Scott,” you said as he dragged her away.

“I like her,” chuckled Dean. “How long you in town for?”

“A few days. Rehearsal dinner is tonight, wedding tomorrow, head home the next day.”

“Not much free time then,” he said.

“Yeah I-” you said before Georgia screamed. You turned around, your sister stomping around and shouting into a phone.

“It’s tomorrow! They wait until the last minute to call and cancel the venue!” she said. Scott seemed miffed which was probably as angry as he ever got and your mom was already over trying to calm them both down.

“You can use the brewery,” said Dean quietly. He shrugged as you stared up at him. “We’ve been toying with reserving for private parties over on the far side of the property. Strand lights, farmhouse style wedding, yada yada.”

“Can it look like this?” you asked as you pulled out your phone. You showed him a picture of the venue and the style Georgia had wanted to go for. “I can call all the vendors. All we need here is tables, clean up, you get the drill.”

“What time is the wedding?” he asked.

“1. Reception starts at 4, was supposed to go to about midnight or so.”

“You’re the maid of honor I presume.”

“Can we make this work? I know she sounds insane but she’s actually really sweet most of the time.”

“I’m gonna need help setting this up. Might be an all nighter.”

“I like coffee,” you said. He nodded and you turned around. “Gia! Calm down! I got a solution for ya.”

“Hi,” said Dean as you pulled into the employee parking lot at around ten that night. “How’d the dinner go?”

“Fine. Gia’s stressed out so Scott and I got her drunk. I told her I had it handled,” you said. “I have dunkin and my sneakers and put me to work.”

“The guys are nearly done with the lights. I need you to help me with tables and stuff, where you want everything,” said Dean.

“Alright,” you said. “Do you have a notebook I can borrow?”

“Pad of paper work?” he asked as you followed him into the back of the brewery. You hummed and he handed it over along with a pen. You cut through a side door and found yourself outside, staring at a whole bunch of lights in trees and along a privacy fence.

“Oh she’s gonna love this,” you said as you walked out there. You started to jot down where trees were and drew some tables on the paper, rearranging them a few times before you held it up to Dean. “Can you put the tables like this?”

“Definitely can do. I’ll handle the forklift, you tell me where you want the picnic tables,” he said.

Forty minutes later the tables were out back and you’d laid out some rubber mats to act as a dance floor with one of Dean’s employees.

“So DJ is there…” you said to yourself as Dean whistled for you to come over to where he and a few guys were laying out the impromptu bar top. “What’s up?”

“We were just wondering how fancy is your sister? Like is it that fairytale farmhouse thing or she like it more rustic?”

“She’s the former. My future brother in law is the later. He’s the one from here,” you said. “I was just thinking we’d throw a table cloth over the top of whatever we use for a bar.”

“We still got that piece we didn’t use in the second room?” said a man.

“The too dark of stain one? Yeah, it’s in storage. I bet that’d work great,” said a different guy. They took off and you took a deep breath as you looked around.

“It’s getting there,” said Dean. “If you want to head back to your hotel I think we can handle the rest.”

“It’s not that late,” you said. “I can do the tables while you guys figure out the bar situation if that’s cool.”

“Alright. Let me know if you want any help, sweetheart,” he said. You crossed your arms and he mimicked you, tilting his head down.

“Thank you for all of this. Georgia will love it.”

“I’m not doing it for Georgia,” he said with a soft smile. You bit your lip and turned your head, feeling Dean step closer. “If I asked you to stay a few more days, would you?”

“Dean-”

“Would you?”

“Yes.”

“Then stay. Let’s try this for real.”

“I thought you weren’t a commitment kind of guy. That’s what you said.”

“You said there were no strings attached and yet here we are eight years later and I am as smitten as the first time I saw you.” You looked up at him, Dean reminding you of just how easy it was to fall in love with him.

And how hard it was to fall out of it after the two you went your separate ways. Twice.

“Dean it’s never worked before.”

“We never tried. Italy was the two of us having fun and falling way too hard and fast and it scared the shit out of us both. And your car...that couldn’t have been coincidence. We spent the night in that motel room being goofy and reconnecting and then you got so hard when we said goodbye.”

“It’s kinda hard to get over you.”

“Don’t get over me this time,” he said. “I never did with you.”

“I can’t be with a celebrity and do that stuff.”

“Oh yes, I live a very glamorous life,” he said as he looked around. “Should I get out the forklift again?”

“Dean you know what I mean. You were coming up eight years ago. Four you had fans. Now you got even more. I live in a one bedroom apartment and work on sales reports from my kitchen table.”

“If you work from home then staying down here a few more days shouldn’t be a problem,” he said.

“Dean you’re gonna break my fucking heart again and I don’t want to put it back together. Can we just leave it at friends?”

“Okay.” He unfolded his arms and cupped your face with both hands, pulling you into a deep kiss. You grabbed onto his shirt and slid your hand up to his face, Dean slow to break it off. “I don’t want to wait another four years.”

“I’ll stay a few days and if I’m not convinced there’s something…” you said as Dean chuckled. “Oh shut up you hopeless romantic.”

You brought your lips to his, moving slowly, Dean’s hands wrapping around to your hip, the nape of your neck, kissing you as gently as he did the first time he had.

“Uh, boss,” said a voice. You stepped away from each other and he grunted. “We got some barrels we could use to rest the top on.”

“Yeah,�� said Dean. “Sounds good. Right?”

“Very good,” you said with a nod. “Dean, you uh, mind helping me with the tables?”

“Not at all, sweetheart.”

The Next Evening

“Hey,” you said as you found Dean in a suit, no tie, top collar undone and helping serve some beer from the taproom.

“Hey. You want a glass?” he asked.

“Sure,” you said. He poured two and excused himself, heading back with you over towards the reception. “I really can’t thank you enough. My sister loves it even more than the original place.”

“It’s no problem. I’m glad I could help out,” he said. You stopped just outside the reception, Dean smiling as he sipped from his glass.

“Would you dance with me?”

“Sure,” he said. He set his glass down and took yours, placing it with his own before he grabbed your hips and started to sway slowly.

“I meant at the wedding,” you laughed.

“But we’re already dancing,” he smiled. He spun you around and hummed quietly. “You look gorgeous tonight.”

“Thank you. You clean up well, Winchester.”

“This old thing?” he chuckled. “It’s my lucky suit.”

“You wore it that night. I thought you were gonna blow me off.”

“Went out and bought it after that afternoon. You wore that pretty white summer dress with the ruffles.”

“Couldn’t exactly wear a white dress tonight,” you said.

“I’m sure you’ll wear one someday,” he said. “You got plans after the party?”

“Might see this guy if he’s available. Not sure yet.”

“Oh he is. He knows a late night diner not too far with big greasy burgers if she’s interested. Plus he’s got a cool car.”

“Let’s go,” you said as you brushed your lips over his.

“Is the wedding over?”

“It’s dying down. I don’t want to wait any longer.”

“Let’s go.” He held out his arm and you stuck yours through it, Dean escorting you out to his car. You felt cooler out in the open air and he shrugged off his suit jacket, slipping it over your shoulders. You stuck your arms through and he opened the door for you, smiling to himself. “Ladies first.”

“Dean?” you said before you sat down. You pecked a kiss to his lips and he inhaled sharply. “Maybe I can stay longer than a few days?”

“You could just stay forever,” he said.

“Maybe I will,” you said. He cupped your cheek and grinned, kissing you slowly. “Don’t go away again.”

“Never, sweetheart. Let’s see if we can get a start on forever finally.”

_______

#spn #tell me a story bingo #supernatural #dean x reader #dean winchester #au!dean x reader #au #spn fanfiction #dean x #dean x you #dean winchester x reader #dean winchester x #supernatural fanfiction #spn fanfic #dean fanfic #dean winchester fanfic #dean winchester x you

330 notes · View notes

titan-fodder · 3 years ago

Text

Prima Vista Part V

[ previous ] Rating: E (explicit; mdni) Pairing: Mike Zacharias x Reader, Zeke Jaeger x Reader wc: ~ 8.8k Warnings: pining, testosterone, Zeke being a dick (who woulda thought), subtle manipulation (both on Zeke’s part that goes unchecked and accidentally on Mike’s part) A/N: Well, we’re gettin’ there. We’re truckin’ along. I’m sorry for the last chapter. And, I’m sorry for this one. But, I do still hope you enjoy it. I think we’re at the halfway mark here.

Mike gets a text from you at nine PM three days before he’s supposed to go back to campus. It’s just a few words, a question that makes his heart drop to his stomach because you’ve never asked it before.

Can we talk for a sec?

He waits for a few minutes, tries to get rid of the panicked feeling rising in his chest, but he can’t get it to go away entirely, so he just bites the bullet and calls you.

“Heyyy,” you greet. Mike can already tell a difference in your tone. Something is definitely going on.

“Hey, what’s up?”

“I just, uh…” He hears you suck on your front teeth, a nervous habit he’s well versed in now, then you tell him, “I just wanted to give you a heads up before you get back here.”

Mike swallows. “Heads up about what?”

Are you leaving? Did you fail your summer classes despite all his help? Did you get into some kind of accident?

You let out a long breath that Mike wishes he could feel on his skin. He wishes he could see your expression, wishes he could hold your face in his hands and tell you that whatever it is, it’ll be okay. Seems like he’s always wishing for things.

“Um, I—uh… I’m kind of seeing someone.”

The floor falls out from beneath him, and Mike drops with it, sitting down on the edge of his bed. He grits his teeth, trying to breathe normally—in through the nose, out through the mouth. This is about the last thing he expected you to confess.

It’s apparently taking too long for him to gather himself, because you say his name, “Miche?” and he has to squeeze his eyes shut.

“I’m here. It’s, uh, fine,” he lies. “It’s fine.”

“Is it?” You sound worried, as you should because while Mike isn’t mad, he’s extremely disappointed, probably the most he’s ever been.

Taking a page out of your book, he tries to play it cool, act like he doesn’t care. “Why wouldn’t it be?”

“Well, you—...” Met your mom? Learned your secrets? Tried to tell you that he loved you? All valid responses, but you just dismiss it with a quiet, “Nevermind.”

Mike hums, lets the line go silent for a while, then musters the courage to question, “Do I know him?”

“Yeah, I think so.”

“What do you mean ‘you think so’?”

“I mean he’s mentioned you, so I figure you’ve had at least a few conversations.” You’re getting that sassy tone, the one that signals you want to drop the subject, but you can’t this time. You’ve already warned Mike that you’re off the god damn market. You might as well tell him who exactly he’s gonna see you holding hands and sucking face with. It’s the merciful thing to do.

“It’s not one of the Pike guys, is it?”

“No, no,” you laugh and it makes Mike want to scream because he doesn’t find this amusing at all, and it only gets worse when you finally answer, “It’s Zeke Jaeger.”

Mike nearly hangs up then and there, but he somehow fights the urge. He does hold his phone away from his ear, though, stares up at his ceiling for a few seconds and stretches his arm out, then brings the device back. “Cool. He’s a… Talented dude.”

“Yeah, but I mean, I’m not exactly starstruck or anything. Not after hangin’ out with you all of last year.”

Mike rolls his eyes so hard he thinks they might fall out of his skull. “You don’t have to make this about me, ba—...” He catches himself before finishing the pet name. He can’t do that anymore. He can’t call you what he wants to. He can’t flirt or smooth hair out of your face. He can’t pick you up and hold you against the walls of the house. He can’t show you how much he cares for you.

“I know. I just feel kinda bad,” you mumble.

“You shouldn’t. It’s cool.” His flat tone is anything but cool, and you can probably tell, but there’s not much Mike can do about that.

You’re pouting when you question, “You’ll still be my friend?” Mike can see the expression without actually seeing it, the doe eyed look you’d be giving him if he were in front of you right now. He can also imagine looping his arms around you and smiling crookedly and kissing your forehead, and fuck, he feels broken.

“Yeah,” he sighs. “Shouldn’t even be a question.”

“Good.”

You lapse into another silence, just breathing and waiting for the other to break. It’s you who does. You clear your throat and state one more time, “I just wanted you to know.”

“Thanks.”

“See you in a few days.”

“Yeah,” Mike is barely listening at this point, just looks at the poster on the wall and lets it fall out of focus. ��See ya’.”

You don’t hang up immediately, like you’re waiting for him to say something else, but Mike saves you the trouble and presses the ‘end’ button on his phone then tosses it on his pillow and falls back onto the mattress.

He just doesn’t understand. He doesn’t understand any of it. You’ve gone an entire year denying him, keeping yourself closed off and never once bringing up the possibility of actually being together. After all the time spent together, after all the date parties, all the sex, staying at each others’ houses. He feels like he knows you better than anyone else probably does. You let him in. You let yourself be vulnerable in front of him. You acted like you trusted him.

So, why isn’t he your first choice? As soon as you realized you were ready to make a fucking commitment to someone, why wasn’t it him?

Mike doubts he’ll ever get the closure. He’ll just have to cope with seeing you around campus with Zeke god damn Jaeger, have to pretend like everything is fine, like you haven’t ripped his heart out of his fucking chest.

Unbearable. It’s going to be absolutely unbearable.

Moving somewhere new always blows. It takes so much energy that Mike doesn’t have, yet here he is, hauling bags and boxes up to his new apartment unit. Honestly, he would almost prefer to stay in the frat house instead of having to make all the trips up and down these god damn concrete stairs, but at least now he’ll finally be away from all the parties. That will definitely come in handy this year considering he’s not gonna want to go to a single fucking one of them.

Once all of his belongings are stacked in his fairly small living room, Mike glances around his new haven, already thinking about how empty it feels without all the guys milling about and dicking around. He doubts he’ll miss the constant noise, but it’s still something that will take some getting used to.

What he will miss is seeing you all the time, waking up in his old room to see you still fast asleep on his pillows, sitting in the main room with the others, heckling them as they play various games. He’s been focusing on the small things for the last couple of days, the things he never took the time to really enjoy. It feels like he didn’t stare long enough or laugh hard enough when he had the chance, and now he doesn’t know when his next opportunity to do either of those with you will be.

Mike scrubs a hand down his face, scratches the hair he’s let grow out a little too much, then slowly begins to unpack his things. He’s being melodramatic, he knows, but he can’t help it. He can either let himself feel sad, or he can let the unbridled fucking rage take over, and out of the two, he prefers the former.

Mike’s class schedule gets pinned to the wall in his bedroom. His laptop gets set up. Textbooks are tossed into a corner. He really doesn’t care to do much more than that, but he figures he should make the place at least a little presentable. Who knows? Maybe he’ll find someone to entertain.

The thought makes him a little sick to his stomach, but it’s a sensation he’s slowly getting used to as more time passes.

Mike knows he needs to pull himself together, needs to put on a brave face. Pretty soon all the frats will be dealing with the dirty rushers, all the kids who weren’t able or didn’t think to suck up to the brothers during the spring. Then there’s inductions and hazing… Fuck, fall semesters are so tedious even without living in the house. He’s never been a huge fan of it all, but he’s had this image to uphold since he became a pledge.

Now, Mike isn’t so sure he can keep that image in place.

He stays locked away for as long as he possibly can, but eventually there’s a knock on his front door—Erwin who shoots Mike a broad grin and wriggles his ridiculous eyebrows. “You ready, bro? Got a place all your own with no one to bother you—”

“You’re bothering me.”

“Can do whatever you want,” Erwin powers on, completely unfazed. “Bring back whoever you want, no pesky frat boys to get in your way ‘cause fuck those guys, right?” He goes to grab Mike’s shoulders while laughing at his own joke, but Mike swats him away.

It makes Erwin scoff, and then he’s pushing past Mike to get into his new home, looking around for just a second and breathing out a little, “Eesh,” before turning back and giving Mike a look of condescension. “Don’t tell me this bad mood is because of your little toy finding someone else.”

“Okay, firstly, fuck off,” Mike squints at him. “And, secondly, how do you already know about that?”

Erwin examines his manicured nails, buffs them on his shirt and tells Mike, “Saw her and Jaeger walking out of the bookstore earlier. They looked pretty cozy. Pretty giddy, too, all smiles and—”

“Shut. The fuck up.”

The other man snorts. “Calm down, dude. I’m sure you can get her back or whatever you’re trying to do. Zeke’s an assole. Won’t take her long to figure it out.”

“We’ll see.”

This time Mike lets Erwin clap a hand on his shoulder before he walks out but not without suggesting, “You really should brighten things up a little in here. Hang some fairy lights or something. Girls love fairy lights.”

Mike rolls his eyes, not bothering to remind his friend that he only started unpacking half an hour ago, then physically shoves Erwin out of his apartment.

So, you’re already walking around campus flaunting your new little fling, he thinks. Perfect. He’s really looking forward to seeing that everywhere.

Mike eventually has to go by the PKA house for a meeting. Some of the members are already discussing plans for rush week and parties. Should they have lists or just keep them open and direct everyone to the yard? Are they gonna stick to their regular forms of hazing or should they change things up this year? Did anyone stick out from spring? Mike doesn’t pay much attention, just scrolls through his phone skimming through the same three social media apps over and over. He reads through the text thread he shares with you, the one he’s never deleted, and thumbs all the way up to a few months ago just to see if anything had been different back then, if he had said or done something wrong.

But, he’s gone through it a dozen times already, and he never finds anything. Maybe you just grew while he was away, experienced some kind of self-actualization that prepared you for an actual relationship.

Or, maybe Zeke just has something that Mike doesn’t.

Mike runs into you on the second day of classes. Thankfully, you’re alone, and as soon as you catch sight of him, you grin widely and launch yourself at him. It comes as a surprise, your full weight hitting him square in the chest when you jump, and he has to catch you like you’re an excited child.

It’s too close. You’re too close. Body against his as you slide down to your actual height and rest your head on his chest.

“I missed you, Zacharias.”

He wants to lift you up again, lock your thighs around his waist and kiss you like he used to. Instead, Mike pats the top of your head and gently untangles you from himself. He makes sure to smile when you look up at him, and he’s glad you aren’t pouting or frowning, your expression soft when he tells you, “Yeah, I missed you too.”

He asks how your summer classes went. You ask what his course load is like this semester. It’s just small talk, and Mike hates it.

“How’re your parents?” You question like you’re interested, but he can’t imagine you actually are.

“They’re good,” he shrugs. “Dad got a promotion at work a few weeks ago. Mom is doing the same shit she always does.” Like, making his favorite meals to heal his poor little broken heart. Mike hadn’t even told her about the conversation he’d had with you, and yet, as soon as he came out of his room the following morning, she just knew.

“Glad to hear it,” you nod. “Hey, do you wanna grab lunch or something? My next class isn’t til two, so I’m tryin’ to kill some time.”

“Actually, I told Erwin I’d meet him,” Mike lies through his teeth. He’ll be using excuses like that for as long as he can. “Sorry.”

“No, it’s cool,” you wave him off. “I’ll just grab Hitch or—”

“There you are.” Mike stiffens at the vaguely familiar voice ringing out from behind him, hand flexing by his side as the school’s golden boy walks right past him and to you. “I was looking all over for you.”

“Well, here I am,” you laugh, but Mike notes how forced it sounds. It’s a laugh that stems from nerves, he thinks. But why? Is it because Mike is here? Are you afraid of how he’ll act? Or, is it that you’re still in the phase of this “relationship” with Zeke that you’re still anxious around him?

The other man doesn’t even acknowledge Mike for a full twenty seconds. He heavily considers just walking away without a word, but the blond does eventually turn around to look at him and shows a smile that Mike would describe as slimy but you would probably call charming.

“Zacharias,” Zeke greets and holds out a hand. “It’s been a minute.”

Mike doesn’t like the way he says his last name. He only likes the way his friends say it. How you say it. Even if it started off as a way to keep your distance, he grew fond of it. Not as fond as his given name, of course, but hearing those four syllables from your mouth, always laced with attitude, never fails to make him smile.

“Yeah, it has,” Mike agrees, clasping hands with him.

He immediately feels Zeke stick his index finger out over his wrist, an attempt of taking control of the shake. Mike has seen it too many times to count, the petty attempt to flip hands so that one man’s is on top of the other. It’s a terrible way to flaunt one’s masculinity or power, and it’s never worked on Mike.

His hand is quite a bit larger than most people’s, after all. It’s definitely larger than Zeke’s, so when he tries to turn it, Mike doesn’t have a problem keeping his wrist straight.

The blond has to look up at him, actually tilt his head back because Mike has a good five inches on him, and after a couple more seconds, Zeke gives up on the pathetic display of dominance. That doesn’t stop Mike from squeezing his palm just a little too hard, though, just enough to see the muscles in Zeke’s jaw twitch.

When he lets go he chances a glance at you, finding you rubbing your temples. You mumble something Mike can’t hear, probably about men being stupid because there’s no way that little show escaped your notice.

Zeke steps over to you once again and asks the same question you had asked Mike—”You wanna get lunch, babe?”

Hearing him calling you that causes Mike’s blood to bubble in his veins, blistering from the inside out. It’s time for him to leave.

“Yeah, sure,” you nod. Eyes flicking back to Mike, you force another smile and tell him, “See you around.”

The two of you walk off, and Mike watches for just a little too long as Zeke laces his fingers with yours. Once you’re both a safe distance away, the fucker looks back at Mike from over his shoulder and smirks at him.

Mike has long legs. He could easily catch up to you and punch Zeke square in the jaw, make his head snap to the side so that he drops to the ground.

But, what would you think of that? There’s no way you’d be happy with him, and if there’s one thing that would be worse than Mike having to see you parade around with someone who isn’t him, it would be you ignoring him completely.

The first couple of weeks are honestly a blur. Too much is happening for Mike to focus on. The only thing that seems real to him is the ache in his chest. It distracts him day in and day out, through the late rushers and all the sucking up, through the first couple of parties, bid day and the first rounds of hazing. It’s just always there.

He is notably quieter when in the house, and it seems like everyone knows why. While Erwin pokes fun at him for his moodiness, Nile takes a more adult approach and simply asks how he’s doing, if he needs anything, going as far as offering, “You need me to punch that dude in the throat? Plant drugs in his bag? I’m pretty sure Gelgar has coke on his person at all times.”

He’s a good guy. Mike is glad he got voted in as PKA President this year despite Erwin giving him a run for his money. Nile is just personable enough to bring members in and have a good time at events, and just controlling enough to make sure things in the house are taken care of. Plus, Erwin doesn’t seem too broken up about getting Vice instead.

It’s a relief when lacrosse starts back up, finally gives him a way to get some of his frustration out. The other teams have never been luckier to be wearing helmets otherwise Mike would have broken several noses within the first game alone.

The season has some overlap with baseball, games scheduled on the same day, sometimes at the same time. Mike keeps himself from looking into the stands to try to find you, scared that you’ll be there or scared that you won’t be, he isn’t sure.

And, of course, Zeke’s face is plastered everywhere after he pitches a perfect fucking game. Mike wants to be angry, wants to spit on the flyers and punch every computer that’s displaying the college’s home screen, but if he’s being honest with himself, he knows that if it were anyone else, Mike would be impressed. Pitching a perfect game is pretty fucking cool, and the school is lucky to have a player as talented as Zeke, but god, what Mike wouldn’t do to just curbstomp him.

Your name still lights up on his phone fairly often to ask how games went or how his classes are going. You’ve asked for help with homework on one occasion and lunch on another, but after Mike lies about only being able to walk you through the material over the phone and shoots you down for lunch, you seem to get the picture.

He doesn’t want it to be awkward between you, but he doesn’t know how to act now. His entire relationship with you started off as a drunken fuck, and it’s been mostly physical since then. How is he supposed to be able to spend time with you without touching you? Even the semester you refused to hook up with him, there were still times when you were both actively fighting the temptation. Mike can remember seeing it in your eyes all the time, probably just as often as you’d see it in his. You’d sit with a leg pressed against his, fall asleep on his arm every once in a while, and he wants that back now, but there’s no way the two of you can do that anymore. He doesn’t possess the same self-control.

Over the weekend, you end up cracking and trying again, asking for help with studying for a quiz, and Mike has to contemplate it for at least fifteen minutes before he gives in.

Coffee shop on 7th? you text him, and Mike chuckles to himself. The only places you’ve ever studied together is at the library or in his room, and while he could only get as far as a hand between your legs in the school building, he would usually end up in bed with you whenever going over something behind closed doors.

It makes sense that you want to go to a busier place, more eyes to watch you. It’s irritating, but he understands.

Mike grabs one of his own textbooks from the previous year, the one he actually bought so that he could highlight and take notes in the margins, then makes his way to the little cafe.

He’s been to this particular shop many times before, with you as well as the girls who came before—the ones that never mattered. Mike easily spots you at a little table by the window, your own book and several papers spread out around you. When you see him, you grin then hurry to clear a space for him, organizing what Mike recognizes as reading guides.

“Hey, stranger," you greet.

Mike nods, eyes landing on the green hoodie you’re wearing, the one that covers too much of you, that spills over the tops of your legging clad thighs and hides your little hands. It’s his, but it’s always looked better on you. The fact that you still wear it makes Mike’s heart swell a tiny bit as he takes his seat. The sun is hitting you just right and making your face glow, making your eyes twinkle, and he doesn’t know if he can do this.

“So, what d’you need help with?” He prompts before he can make up his mind to turn right back around.

You slide one of the guides over to him and point out several circled questions. The blanks are filled in, but you ask him, “Why?” dramatically. “None of that makes sense to me.”

Mike laughs through his nose and glances at the page your textbook is flipped to so he can open his own.

“Why’d you keep your book from last year?”

He glances up before turning it to show the highlighted lines, the starred passages, the little annotations for better understanding.

“One, because I worked hard on making it better, and two,” he feels his mouth curl up, the teasing coming naturally when he tells you, “I figured you’d probably benefit from it.”

You squint at him, scrunching your nose up, and Mike takes a mental snapshot to tuck away.

“Rude,” you utter.

He raises his eyebrows and leans back in his chair. “I think ‘thank you’ is the term you’re looking for.”

“Yeah, yeah, whatever. Just explain this to me if you’re so smart.”

“You know I’m smart.”

Mike doesn’t understand where the casual back-and-forth is coming from. Is it easy because he's done it so many times before? Words tumble from his mouth before they actually cross his mind, and he’s both grateful (it’s better than the awkward small talk he thought he’d have to make) and worried. If he’s speaking without actually thinking things through, what else might he do before his brain catches up? Will he smooth hair out of your eyes? Will he brush his hand over yours? Will he stare at your lips for too long? All of those are habits he hasn’t managed to break yet, but he will break if he accidentally offends you by crossing any of these lines.

He sits with his hands tucked between his legs, only moving to flip a page or point something out with his pinky finger. He's reading upside down, and you're leaning over the tabe, staring at the book then staring at him. Mike tries to look through you instead of at you, but it's hard as you let out a little oh! when something clicks or pouting when it doesn't.

"I still don't get it."

So, Mike finds different ways of explaining things because he knows this information very well now. It's still pretty fresh in his brain, and he may or may not have reviewed some of it when he saw how many of your classes matched up with his.

"Okay, I feel a lot better," you sigh once Mike has gone through every page.

Mike is more or less sitting on his hands at this point, gritting his teeth behind the grin plastered on his face because this is the part where he asks if you wanna go back to the house. This is the part where you wind down together, watching dumb TV shows or pawing at each other, rolling in his bed and laughing and moaning. That's what's supposed to happen.

"Alright, well, if that's it, I should get going," Mike tries, stretching his arms out and nearly smacking the person sitting behind him right in the head.

You snort, cover your mouth, and look away. It's what you always do. You can't look at him when you start laughing or you'll just laugh harder and harder, and while Mike adores it, the general public usually does not.

But, then Mike is snickering because he can feel the stranger trying to burn holes in the back of his skull, has to bite his fist to keep himself quiet, and when you chance a glance and see, you slam your head down on the table, whole body shaking with giggles.

It's always the little things that get you. On one of the walks with Scout over Spring Break, Mike had tripped over a stick on the trail. He managed to catch himself, but Jesus Christ, you didn't stop laughing for ten minutes.

"God fucking—" he's starting to lose it too as he stands and gathers your supplies from the table, tucking them all under one arm then using his other to pull you out of your seat. "We have to leave before they make us."

You hide your face in your hands, trusting Mike to guide you by the shoulders, and once you're both outside, you belly laugh until you wave your arms and gasp, "I can't—I can't breathe—I can't breathe!" Your voice is all high pitched and hysterical, and all Mike can do is bring you to his chest so that you can let your giggles die off in the privacy of his t-shirt.

He can feel your breath through the material as you calm down, eventually looking up and wiping tears from your eyes as you continue to grin.

Mike tilts his face down to stare at you, aware that all of his affections are shining right through his eyes, but he doesn't care because you don't seem to.

“You’re a fucking dork,” he hums, has a fully conscious thought of touching your face—no accident, no impulse, a complete, coherent, thought, so he does it. He just does it. Palm over your cheek, thumb gently tracing to wipe away another tear from your little fit.

You let out a long exhale, close your eyes and hum, then reach up to cover Mike's hand with yours.

Your fingers lock into the spaces between his, and you hold on for a few seconds before letting your hand fall, taking his with it. And, just like that, all the good feelings that had grown inside of him over the course of the study session disappear.

"Miche," you sigh, still holding onto two of his fingers.

He smiles in a way that makes you frown, then mumbles, "Yeah, I know."

After handing your supplies back, Mike kisses you on the top of the head before you can stop him, then turns and starts walking toward the street his apartment is on.

"Why are you always wearing that hoodie?"

You look up from your laptop just as Zeke steps out of his room freshly showered and shirtless. It's a sight that should probably make your mouth water, but instead it's gone dry at his question.

"Oh, uh, I don't really know," you bullshit. "It's just big and comfortable, I guess."

Zeke uses the towel around his neck to dry his hair a little better, questions, "Well, whose is it?" while his face is slightly obscured.

If you pause, he'll probably be suspicious. If you answer, he will also be suspicious. And, you can't really blame him. People know you on campus as Mike Zacharias' friend or girlfriend or plaything or whatever. You assume Zeke having to walk around with that hanging over his head is pretty annoying.

"Oh, wait," he starts before you can answer. Squinting without his glasses, he grumbles, "That's one of the lacrosse hoodies, isn't it?"

You look down at the cracked logo and try not to smile at it. "Yeah. It's one of Mike's old ones."

"Right." He pads over to you and takes your laptop from your legs despite your protests of being in the middle of an online assignment, setting it on the coffee table behind him. Then, using one arm to brace himself on the back of the couch, Zeke holds himself above you and takes your chin between two fingers so that he can tilt your face and kiss you.

It makes you melt. It always does. Your heart beats like a drum in your chest for about two seconds before it relaxes into a subtle thrumming, a white noise that drowns out everything else.

You straighten your back in an attempt to get closer, but Zeke pulls away ever so slightly, makes you chase after his lips and you do. You do because you want more, want him.

It's been weeks now and the farthest you've gotten with him, the farthest he's let you get with him, was the series of harsh kisses he'd ladened you with up against his front door a few days ago. He'd pushed your shirt up and shoved a knee between your legs, giving you something to grind against, but it never progressed to anything more.

You don't understand. It's not like he's never had sex. You've heard girls talk about him on campus, how he'd been seeing so-and-so for a couple months in freshman year, fucked some other chick at a party, etc., etc.

Then you'd met his actual ex the other day, one he dated officially for a semester last year before breaking things off. Her name is Rhi. She's very pretty. And, she had pulled Zeke into a full blown conversation without looking at you once. The way she batted her eyes and smiled at him, twisting her hair and shoving at him playfully—Oh yeah. She's definitely seen him naked.

You didn't say anything about it for a while, just stewed in silence until Zeke finally sighed and asked, "What would you like to know?"

He'd given you the vague outline—met her in class, studied together, decided to date, left her to focus on baseball. That excuse hit a little too close to home, but you'd let it roll off your shoulders.

The point is Zeke has fucked other girls, but he won't fuck you, and you need to know why because you're starting to get desperate. It's not a good look. It's one you never wanted to wear, but the way he stares at you and the way he talks to you, always pointing out your strengths, encouraging you, complimenting you is intoxicating.

When Zeke's eyes are on you, it’s like you're the most important person in the room. He has some ability to make you feel that way, to make everyone feel that way you realized one night after a game. People flock to him. They want to listen to what he has to say. They want to agree with him where he can see.

It's hard to explain to anyone who hasn't met him, but the best way you can describe it (a way only a few people will understand) is that he has a twenty for charisma. He's talented and smart and engaging, can convince anyone of anything the same way he's convinced you that he wants you.

Hand slipping behind your arching back, Zeke presses you against him for just a moment, then drops onto the couch next to you only to tug you on top of him.

You're already breathing too heavily, clutching his face in both your hands as you grind your hips against his. He squeezes your ass, smirking against your mouth when you whimper, then moves his hands to push both the hoodie and your shirt off.

You lift your arms, letting Zeke strip you as your mind grows hazy. He mutters more to himself than to you, a low, "Get this shit off," then carelessly tosses your clothes over the armrest.

Fingers climb up your ribs, almost tickling, making you squirm in his lap. You can feel that he's getting hard, thank god. This just might be the night, please fucking let it be.

You've never been a big fan of terms like ‘blue-balls’ or ‘blue-bean’, never even thought it existed, and it really doesn't; it's just a form of manipulation, of guilting your partner into sex, and you know this because you've had an entire rant about it prepared since high school, but right now, in this particular moment, you're aching. Your insides ache. Your clit aches. You just want—

Zeke pinches one of your nipples hard enough to clear your head for a second, causes you to cry out and pull back. He lets go, his bottom lip caught between his teeth as he watches you and flicks over the sore bud with a fingertip.

"Zeke," you breathe, body trembling.

"What is it, baby?" He coos.

"I—"

He snakes a hand between the two of you, ridding you of any and all thoughts as he rubs over your covered pussy. You're almost positive that if he keeps doing it, you'll start to leak through your leggings, right into his hand.

Panting, an old track plays in the back of your head, a deep voice, breathy and promising, gonna fuck you dry tonight.

You lean forward to kiss Zeke again, letting him suck and bite hard enough to make the frown on your face look natural, like he put it there.

Flames are licking up and down your legs, then your arms, but even though it's Zeke's lap you're sitting in and Zeke's tongue in your mouth and Zeke's fingers massaging your pussy, it's suddenly Mike you're thinking about, and well… That can't be good.

You tangle your hands in Zeke's hair, the different texture bringing you back to reality. His thick beard is scratching against your face. His bare torso is wiry with muscle and pressed to yours. He moves his hand and raises his hips to meet yours, a groan catching in his throat. It looks like he's finally losing his composure, cheeks flushed, eyes are foggy. When you break away, he licks away the string of spit holding you together, tongue running over his lip seductively.

"Can we—" you start, but Zeke speaks at the same time.

"It's getting late."

Blinking at him, you find yourself experiencing too many emotions to actually identify a single one. You feel your eyebrows knit together, but it’s more from your confusion than it is your frustration.

But, you don’t want to be frustrated. You don’t want to be or look upset about not getting sex. That would make you a terrible person, and you’re not about to make him feel bad for not being ready to take that step with you. You’ve been on the receiving end of that, and it doesn’t feel good.

The amount of times you’ve had to masturbate in the last few weeks is a little fucking ridiculous, though.

Nodding mostly to yourself to get your thoughts back in line, you slide off of Zeke to stand up. Your hand is trembling when you reach for your clothes, heat still coursing through you, but you manage to gently grab them from the couch rather than snatch them.

Shirt and hoodie back in place, you gather your things, feeling Zeke’s gaze on you the entire time. You don’t say anything, just nibble on your bottom lip as you run over all the events that took place over the night, what you possibly did wrong, what turned him off or just failed to turn him on in the first place.

After slipping everything back into your bag, Zeke finally gets to his feet and takes it from you, walking with you outside to your car.

“I’ll talk to you tomorrow,” he tells you, the picture of calm and collected while your body remains buzzing.

“Okay, yeah.”

He puts your stuff in the front passenger seat, shuts the door, and gives you a sweet little peck that you wish lasted longer.

Zeke says good night, begins walking back to the building, but stops and calls to you right before you shrink into the car.

Even from this distance, you can tell he’s looking you dead in the eye, face suddenly very serious when he tells you, “You can go ahead and stop wearing that hoodie.”

* For the first time since the semester started, lacrosse and baseball games do not overlap one another, and you're able to spend the warm afternoon in the stands, cheering on the friends you made over the last year.

The home team is dominating, Mike and Erwin are too fucking quick for their opponents to get in the way of. The way the ball just flies back and forth between them, like a game of keep-away, shows just how on-the-same-page they are. The other guys are good too, doing a spectacular job of staying one leg ahead, defending their star players and assisting in the offensive effort.

The last goal is made by Mike who launches the ball from the center of the field right into the goal, and both the crowd and the teams lose their fucking minds.

You're up on your feet screaming and clapping, voice breaking as your shrill cry tears your throat. You know you're being drowned out by everyone around you, but as Mike gets lauded for being the god he is—putting up with backslaps and hugs and a headlock from Erwin—he still manages to find you in the second row, grinning in that crooked way you love so much.

You don't know exactly when that started happening, probably sometime after Spring break. Or, maybe it was there since the beginning, just laying dormant at the back of your head so that you could focus on denying him.

It doesn't really matter now since you're actually with someone. That someone isn't around right now, but he's in your thoughts as your chest fills with affection and pride for your friend.

Erwin is shouting about another open party, and your mind is made up to not attend because Zeke wouldn't appreciate it, but then Mike is suddenly lifting himself onto the raised, concrete stands and pointing at you, and before you know it, you're hopping down the next bleacher without a care for the fans who have to lean out of the way.

He's incredibly sweaty as you wrap your arms around his neck, but you don't mind. You were so convinced he would be mad at you or try to avoid you.

You're very aware that you had hurt him by getting with Zeke, and while he had been pretty guarded for the first few weeks, he's opened up some since that day in the coffee shop, when you'd nearly giggled yourself to death. You hadn't expected that to be what cracked his walls, especially considering how that visit had ended, but you're glad that it did.

"Haven't seen you cheering for me in a while," Mike laughs next to your ear.

He's dizzy with adrenaline, swaying back and forth as he squeezes you, and you tell him, "If you make us fall, I will beat you up, I swear."

"Okay," he says in a stupid voice of obvious disbelief, "Whatever you say."

You've been texting more, going over homework together, though you haven't needed his help in-person since he had switched books with you that day. It had been so smooth and subtle, you didn't realize until you opened it to study the following day, immediately noticing all the notes and highlights.

It had made you cry like a little bitch in the middle of your dorm, and you called Mike to thank him without bothering to hide your tears and hiccups.

"Come to the party tonight," he demands, but it's so soft, like he's still giving you a chance to say no.

The crowd is still yelling, so you have to keep speaking into each other's ears, and you ask, "Why? All the Pike parties are sticky and gross."

"'Cause we haven't gotten drunk together in a while," Mike states in the form of a whine.

You snort, feeling his hair dripping onto your shoulder. You should probably be disgusted, but it's not the first time you've gotten sweaty with him, and it's definitely not the worst bodily fluid he's made a mess on you with.

"You know what happens when we get drunk together," you remind him with a smile he can't see. "Can't do that anymore."

"I promise I'll behave."

That's not the problem. You don't know if you can behave. You've been wound up for over a month now, and it is driving you insane. No matter how many times you get off alone in your room at night, you still ache as if you're being edged.

So, getting fucked up with someone you know for a fact can fuck you stupid… probably not the best idea.

"Miche," you protest, drawing his name out.

"Just think about it."

He leaves you with that, hopping down and walking away with his arms in the air as everyone surrounding you cheers for him until he disappears. You just stand there amidst the noise, shirt now wet as you contemplate the pros and cons of going to another PKA party.

As always, Zeke asks what your plans are for the night, but for the first time since you met him, you lie. * King's Cup and Rage Cage and Beer Pong galore. Party-goers are pooling onto the lawn, and you're just waiting for campus police to show because of the chaos, but you're not necessarily scared of it. So you go to jail for a couple days. Worse things could happen.

Currently, you and Mike are sitting on the sidewalk nursing beers and giggling at the new pledges who keep running around the house in less and less clothes.

"Honestly, this isn't that bad," Mike tells you. "Erwin suggested we make them all watch snuff together."

You give him an incredulous look as you raise the glass bottle to your mouth. "Erwin is a god damn psychopath, what the fuck."

"We had to do it and didn't turn out too bad."

"And, just like that, I'm scared of you."

Mike laughs before sticking two fingers in his mouth and whistling as a brawny blond speeds past in nothing but boxers—Reiner, you think his name is.

There are only a few new guys who stick out to you—that one, a long-faced kid named Jean, freckle boy Marco, and, naturally, Zeke's younger brother, Eren. He sorta skeeves you out, so you've been doing your best to stay out of his sight despite never formally meeting him before.

"Kid's kind of a prick, a little too cocky. Always talking about how he's related to Zeke, or should I say your lo-ver," Mike chuckles, sounding amused, but he still downs the rest of his beer afterward.

You let out a little growl, just drunk enough to be too honest, and grumble, "Not my lover. Also, I would never use that term. So cringey."

"What do you mean?"

"I mean it's weird and dramat—"

"No," Mike cuts you off, "What do you mean about him not being that?"

You fall back on the concrete, bumping the back of your head a little too hard and scrunching your face up.

"We haven't had sex. The dude just will not fuck me for some reason."

"Are you serious?"

You glance at Mike and find his eyes wide in alarm.

"As a heart attack. I have never been so frustrated in my entire life."

You probably shouldn't be talking about this with him, one, because you assume it's like twisting a knife right in Mike's gut and two, because the more you drink, the less self-control you have.

He grunts then tosses his bottle into the yard for some poor pledge to slip on.

"His loss."

"Whatever. I'm sure he'll come around eventually," you sigh then sit back up. "And, until then, I guess I'm practicing celibacy or some shit."

Mike laughs hard at that, and it makes you smack him on the arm. "Yeah, good luck with that."

"Shut up."

"I'm just saying," he raises his hands. "You're, like, the neediest person I know."

"Excuse the fuck outta me?"

"In the bedroom, dummy. Obviously not all the time."

This is not at all where you wanted this conversation to go. The more you think about it, the more you feel that ache, the more you want to quell it.

"We should change the subject."

Mike looks at you, flipping hair out of his eyes and smiling like the cocky frat boy he pretends to be.

"Why? Gettin' all worked up."

"You are literally the worst."

You stand and finish your drink, throwing it a few feet away from Mike's as you tell him, "I need to get a little more fucked up if I'm gonna deal with your ass all night."

"Uh huh."

He follows you back inside, but while you make your way into the kitchen, Mike stops to talk with Erwin about one thing or another. It means he has to entertain the masses, talk about the game, and you post up against a wall to watch him.

You should leave. Mike is looking a little too attractive in his stupid fucking pastel polo, and you're supposed to meet Zeke for lunch tomorrow anyway. Zeke, your boyfriend.

Or, well, he hasn't said it explicitly, but you hold hands in public and ignore other people, just make it obvious that both of you aren't interested in anyone else.

Except when Mike sidles up to you with foggy eyes and a smirk he hasn't worn around you in a long time, you groan at the thought that you are interested in someone else. Even if it's just one night, god, you need it so bad. And, you know Mike can give it to you. Exactly the way you want it.

It's Zeke's fault, really. You know he knows how desperate you're getting. If he'd just explain why he doesn't want to have sex, you could deal with it much better than you are now, but he continues to leave you in the dark. It makes you think you're doing something wrong.

Then, there's the problem of feeling like the shittiest person alive every time you get frustrated. You've spent nights trying to rationalize it, but it's hard to think straight when you're so, undeniably horny.

"Don't look at me like that," you tell Mike with a scoff.

"Why not?"

"'Cause you said you'd behave tonight."

He cocks his head to the side and makes a face. "Did I? That doesn't sound like something I'd say to you."

"Oh my god, you're impossible. And, drunk."

"I'm not really that drunk," he waves you off. "It takes more than a few beers to get me fucked up, remember? Downfall of being this large."

Jesus, he really is rubbing it in your face now. Wide with muscle and so fucking tall. Not to mention his—

"I really cannot do this, Miche," you try again, gritting your teeth when his pupils dilate. "Zeke would be so pissed."

"So? Come on, just one more time. I didn't know the last time would be the last time."

You hadn't either. You don't know what you would have done differently had you known—maybe just taken the time to appreciate his incredible body more—but it doesn't matter now.

You try to sound firm and irritated when you snap, "You know you're being kinda manipulative, right?"

Mike tilts his head back as if you just shoved it, blinks a couple times, then swears out loud. "Oh, fuck." He takes a step away, eyes clear for the first time in several minutes. "I'm sorry. I didn't even—"

"It's fine," you wave. "I just wanted you to know. I'm drunk and you're hot, and I don't wanna fuck things up with Zeke."

"Yeah, I get it. Fuck. If you, like, wanna leave, I won't stop you. It was a joke, and then it wasn’t a joke and—That was a shit thing to do."

"Little bit, but you get a pass this time," you laugh through your nose. "Just don't go pulling that bullshit on some unsuspecting freshman or anything."

He runs a hand through his hair, red with embarrassment, and you think to yourself, Mike is a good guy. One of the best. You don't know of many who would take that kind of criticism to heart—how many would feel genuinely guilty. It is college, and every girl knows the trend of fratty sports players getting off scot-free after being charged with sexual assault. Given his status at the school, Mike could definitely do something like that and get away with it.

But, he would never.

You push him gently to show you aren't mad, tell him, "I still wanna hang out with you. We don't get to as much as we used to."

Mike's small smile looks relieved as he takes a deep breath. "This isn't exactly the best place to just chill, but—"

"I haven't seen your new apartment yet."

You regret it as soon as it comes out of your mouth, your little tune changing ridiculously quickly, but you can't deny that you're curious. He's still your best friend, and you want to know what he's done with his new place. Is it bland like his old room in the house, or did he let his real personality show through?

"You sure?" He questions.

"Yeah. We can just, like, play video games or something."

"Are you sure?"

He must feel terrible. You can relate.

"If you don't want me over, just say so," you snort.

"No, no, of course I do. I just don't want you to feel weird about being alone or anything."

"Nah, like you said, you're not really drunk. I'll sober up with water. We'll be fine."

You don't know if you're trying to convince him or yourself. Without the presence of alcohol, you should be able to keep it together, and the distraction of Zelda or Mario will surely help.

"Okay, yeah," Mike nods. "Let's go then."

You don't even bother finishing your drink, just set it on a countertop and follow him out to his Wrangler. It's been a while since you've ridden in it. It's been a while since you've ridden him, your brain helpfully supplies, and as you pull up to the unfamiliar apartment complex, you once again begin to think that this was a bad idea.

[ next ]

#mike zacharias x reader #miche zacharias x reader #aot x reader #aot fanfic #snk x reader

187 notes · View notes

animereaderinsertwriter · 3 years ago

Text

Cupbearer (Eren/Reader)

Part III

Part I

Part II

Part IV (in progress)

Warnings: MINORS DO NOT INTERACT (im watching you, if you see this, begone!), vampire!eren, hunter!reader, fem!reader, smut, some amount of predator/prey dynamics but only kinda?? there is also a significant age difference but only cos eren is immortal and all that jazz. we're all adults here. there will eventually be smut.... and do i really need to say that there's gonna be blood in a vampire fic?

Description: A story of falling in love in 4 parts.

Eren is a bad man (well, a bad Creature) who has done bad things. When he meets the great-great-great granddaughter of one of his former friends in his favorite blood bar, however, he thinks it might not matter so much what happened in the past, so long as he can make the future something worth living to see.

Ao3 link here

After that night, it became increasingly hard for (Y/N) to leave, and for Eren to let her do so.

Something between them had changed. There were moments— when Eren would press feather-light kisses against her forehead, when he would casually leave a cup of her favorite tea where she would find it— where (Y/N) felt as though her heart might burst. It was all the little things that baffled her, all the ways in which he seemed to understand exactly how she felt; it was as though he knew her more than she knew herself. On the mornings that she would wake in his bed, sleepy and sticky and wholly content, (Y/N) wondered what it would be like to have this life forever.

Other days— on days like today— she was reminded exactly why that could never be, and it broke her heart.

Today, they had planned a romantic dinner in the park, an evening under the stars. It was supposed to be something special, a little getaway just for the two of them; they had wanted to leave as soon as (Y/N) was relieved from her patrol, so Eren had moved her things to his place, hoping that they could leave together from there for their evening alone.

In and of itself, that was fine… but when (Y/N) came in, covered head-to-toe in viscous Creature blood, Eren was furious.

“And you call me a monster,” he growled, looking her up and down with hate in his eyes. “I can’t believe you.”

He stood from his seat on the sofa, and (Y/N) began to back away, still wary from the fight she had narrowly escaped from unscathed. Her every instinct told her that she should run, fire a round of silver bullets into his chest, but she steeled herself, doing neither.

“It’s not my fault— they were attacking a civilian,” she told him as he stalked towards her, his face twisted into a horrific scowl. “I tried to stop them— tried to find out what was going on— but then they came at me with their claws, and I was left with no choice.”

“There is always a choice,” he snarled, and it was then that anger filled (Y/N) from the soles of her feet to the crown of her head. "They were probably terrified of you— how could you possibly blame them for lashing out?"

(Y/N) grit her teeth.

“This, from the man who thought genocide was his only option to the same problem?”

Eren made a low, warning sound in the back of his throat, but (Y/N) pressed on.

“You would rather me have died?” she demanded, stepping into his space. “Would it have pleased you more for my body to bleed out on the pavement, ripped to shreds by an aggressive werewolf? Would you even care, or would you just find the next blood bag and move on with your life?”

“Maybe so,” he shot back, “Then I wouldn’t have to deal with your insufferable mouth.”

That stung— but if there was one thing (Y/N) knew how to do, it was to strike back twice as hard as she had been struck.

“Fine then,” she said, turning on her heel. “I won’t bother you any longer. I’ll go out and find someone who actually wants my company, someone who’ll fuck me good and proper over the counter at some hole-in-the-wall bar over on Easy Street, someone younger, with a nicer cock and less fucking baggage— ”

She didn’t get to finish the sentence, or even walk a single step further— Eren grabbed her by the hair and pulled her to him, his fist painfully tight against her scalp.

“Wanna say that again, to my face?” he asked, tilting her head back.

“I’ll go find someone else to fuck me,” she spat, struggling in vain against him. “I’ll spread my legs for the next available schmuck in the closest bar I can find, so you can hear me scream his name and not yours.”

It was a low blow, to threaten a vampire’s claim on something they had previously assumed had belonged to them, but (Y/N) didn’t care. She had almost died today, and she’d be damned if she was going to take shit from anyone about what she had to do to survive. If Eren wanted a fight, she would damn sure give him one.

“Like hell you will,” he told her, pulling her head back so that she had to strain to remain standing. “You’re mine. Flesh of my flesh, blood of my blood— you are my Companion.”

"I belong to no one!"

Those words ripped from her throat and echoed throughout the empty house, and it was then that Eren stopped, looking at her with calculation in his gaze.

"You're right," he said, releasing her hair. "No mortal can serve two masters, lest they love one and despise the other; an archaic religious concept, but an accurate one nonetheless. You've made it abundantly clear where your loyalty lies. I was a fool for thinking otherwise."

(Y/N) began to tremble. "Eren, what are you saying?"

"I release you from our pact," he replied coldly, his eyes so dull and lifeless that it sent a chill down her spine. "No longer are you bound to be my wine-press— I free you from me."

"Eren—"

"Go," he commanded, and (Y/N) felt terribly, horribly empty.

Once, he would have told her to come freely, go safely, and leave something of the happiness she brought him; now, he gave her a cold dismissal, and it frightened her more than she was willing to admit. Still, she went, feeling hollow and used, and she didn't bother to shut the door behind her as she turned to walk home, weary from the day and sick from fighting.

***

Armin had lived for a very long time, but even so, he had yet to meet anyone so foul of temper as Eren when the Hunger was on him.

"Eren, you have to feed."

The vampire, as ill in health as in temper, glared weakly at him. "I'm not hungry."

"But you are Hungry, and don't pretend like you don't know what I'm talking about. Look, if this is about that girl—"

"I told you not to speak of her!"

Ah, so it was about her. By the looks of him, it had been two weeks since Eren had fed; Armin would bet that he hadn't seen her in the same amount of time.

"If I need to, I'll drag her here to make up with you myself," said Armin testily, "I refuse to watch my best friend starve himself because he refuses to feed on anyone else."

"You will not touch her."

Armin rolled his eyes, but didn't say anything further. He just patted Eren's arm in farewell and set about finding the little lady who was the root cause of his current consternation.

It took longer than Armin had anticipated to find the young woman who had, for all intents and purposes, completely unraveled Eren's composure; her scent, while thick and memorable in Eren's apartment, was hard to track otherwise. Armin spent two hours just wandering the city while trying to catch a breath of it here or there, and when he finally did manage to catch a whiff of her scent and follow it to her, he understood exactly why it had been so hard to track her down.

The girl was a Hunter, of all things.

When Armin found her, she was knee-deep in sewage, her knife embedded to the hilt in the skull of what appeared to be some species of winged reptile. Armin, having been a tad desperate and not actually having been expecting to find anything when he lifted the lid to the man-hole on 32nd and Main, was surprised to say the least— and when (Y/N) ripped her knife free and readjusted her stance into a defensive one directed at him, his surprise turned to intrigue.

“Er, hello there,” he said, scratching the back of his head. “I don’t suppose you’ll take my word for it that I just want to chat, will you?”

Curiously, the words gave the woman pause. She relaxed her stance ever-so-slightly, and then her eyes lit up with recognition.

“Armin Arlert?” she queried, craning her neck up to see him. “Is that you?”

This one grows curiouser and curiouser, he thought, but responded affirmatively.

“Can you give me a bit, then?” she asked, kicking the corpse of the Creature she’d just killed. “I’m not exactly fit for company. Perhaps we could meet later for a discussion over tea?”

“I’m afraid it’s urgent,” he said as she knelt to decapitate her prey— likely for proof of victory. “I think you know why I’m here, so you understand that time is of the essence.”

She didn’t look up at him as she replied.

“If this is about Eren, then I don’t have time to talk.”

Her tone was hard, bitter, and matter-of-fact, and it reminded Armin so much of Jean that it hurt… but just like Jean, Armin would bet that she could be won over by appealing to her inherent sense of human decency

“He’s suffering (Y/N),” he said, awkwardly crouching above the manhole so that she could better see the truth written in his eyes. “He won’t feed.”

“That’s hardly my problem.”

And oh, how well Armin knew that state of mind. If there was one thing Eren Jaeger knew how to do, it was push away the people who loved him most. Armin had dealt with that particularly lovely quirk of his for centuries, and it never got easier to deal with no matter how much time passed. If anything, it got more difficult the older they both got.

“When you’re the solution to a problem, you become a part of it whether you like it or not,” Armin replied, patient and understanding. “He cares for you.”

(Y/N) looked up at him then, fury in her eyes.

“He hurt me.”

Armin shrugged. “He hurts everyone he cares about. It’s just who he is. Nothing comes for free— least of all the love and loyalty of someone as old and as powerful as Eren.”

“Your heart may be toughened to his meanness,” she told him, the head of the creature she’d slain in her hands, “But mine is not, and I don’t like him well enough to willfully remain for him to use as an emotional punching bag.”

At that, Armin couldn’t help but let loose a wry grin.

“No,” he said, “I should think not; but I do think you love him well enough to make sure he doesn’t starve himself to death because he can’t have you.”

(Y/N) was silent for a long moment, then she crossed her arms.

“I won’t come crawling to him. He’s going to have to come to me.”

Armin grimaced. He wasn’t looking forward to that conversation.

“Is that at all negotiable?”

(Y/N) shook her head. “Absolutely not.”

Well, there was nothing for it.

“And you will let him feed if he comes to you?”

(Y/N) thought, then nodded. “If he proves himself deserving.”

Armin couldn't help himself; he laughed. Eren might have met his match in this one.

"Very well. I'll work my magic, and you work yours."

She nodded and bade him farewell, but before Armin left, he paused.

"Hey, (Y/N)?"

"Yes?"

"Thank you."

With that, he left her, ready to take Eren by the ear and throw him at her if he had to.

***

(Y/N)'s heart was racing as she opened the door, knowing good and well who would be behind it.

After her little talk with Armin— and the near heart attack he had given her in the process— she had called in to Zeke and told him she needed to go home to deal with an emergency. A replacement for her patrols had been sent, and she had come home to wash the grim from her skin, making herself as presentable as possible with the time she had. (Y/N) was worried, so worried, that the filth she had been wading in earlier would have left a lingering stench, or even that it had affected the taste of her; she had scrubbed and scrubbed until her skin was raw, hoping to erase every last remnant of her day from her skin…but as it turned out, she needn't have bothered.

Two, three, four hours later, and Eren hadn't shown— it was only now, right at the six hour mark, that he had decided to come to her.

Needless to say, (Y/N) was… less than pleased, but when she opened the door to find Eren pale and drawn, with dark circles beneath his eyes, her heart softened ever-so-slightly. It seemed that Armin was right; he had been suffering.

"You look like shit," she told him quietly, opening her door widely to let him in.

"I assure you, I feel worse," Eren grumbled, but stepped in as she closed the door behind him.

For a long, awkward moment, they just looked at each other, silent and unsure. It was unsettling how unlike himself Eren seemed; he was almost soft when he looked at her, and (Y/N) didn't know how to feel about it. Eventually, though, like two opposite ends of a magnet, they were drawn together, and Eren brushed a piece of hair back from her face.

"Hi," he said, his voice low and rough. (Y/N) caught his hand in hers before it could fall from her hair, and she pressed it against her chest, keeping it trapped there, touching the skin above her beating heart.

"Hey."

They watched each other a moment more before the dam broke between them, and they both spoke at once.

"I'm sorry."

A shared grin, a shy laugh— and then (Y/N) said what they both were thinking.

"You need to feed first, and talk later," she told him, her hand still clasped in his. "You're not off the hook, but I doubt we can have any real conversation with you like this."

Eren nodded gratefully, tugging at her wrist— his usual biting spot— but (Y/N) shook her head, indicating her neck. The thickest, richest blood, she knew, would come from there; and if there was ever a time to be generous with the placement of Eren's bite, she figured that it would be now.

The worst of it was over quickly. There was a brief sting at the intrusion of razor-sharp fangs, and then the vaguely uncomfortable feeling of having something poking down into places that decidedly should not be poked at all, but then (Y/N) quickly eased into the rhythm of the act, focusing wholly on the way Eren's lips felt against her skin. In a few moments, she would become pleasantly light-headed, and then Eren would pull away and look at her like she'd hung the stars. Oh, how she'd missed that look! (Y/N) found herself longing for it even before she quite realized it.

And then, without warning, a vision came, and (Y/N) was swept into another world entirely.

The evening sky rolled endlessly out towards the horizon; it seemed to go on forever, sparkling with more stars than (Y/N) had ever seen before. The full moon was so bright that it cast the whole world in what seemed like silver sunlight, and (Y/N) wondered how anyone could sleep on a night such as this. It was far too beautiful an experience to miss.

Alongside her— alongside Eren, through whose eyes she saw the world— strode Armin and two older-looking cadets who she recognized from previous memories as Reiner and Berthold. Eren was feeling anxious over something, and Reiner and Berthold were… well, they were kind. Reiner especially seemed to be like an older brother, and Eren admired him.

"You'll do just fine tomorrow," said Reiner, placing a large, warm hand on Eren's shoulder. "I'm certain of it."

The memory ended, and (Y/N) came back to herself as Eren's tongue laved over the wounds his fangs had left in her neck, sealing them.

"See anything?" he asked, his breath warm against her skin, and (Y/N) nodded.

"You loved them, too," she said softly, remembering the fondness Eren had felt as though it had been her own. "You loved the Hunters that tried to take everything from you, and— and I think they loved you, too."

Eren pulled away from her, and it was then that she saw the tears shining in his eyes.

"Yes," he replied, his voice broken. "We were children. How could we not love each other as God intended? Hate was never in our nature; it was an inheritance that we couldn't escape."

He paused for a moment, then spoke again.

"I'm sorry I hurt you," he told her, cupping her cheek in his hand. "I lost my temper. I forget— I forget that you're not them."

And (Y/N) understood. She understood that no matter how many centuries passed, there would be wounds that just wouldn't heal for Eren. He would lash out at things that wouldn't make sense to anyone who hadn't experienced the horrors of war as he had. Suddenly, she felt petty for having lashed out as she had, and guilt threatened to rise up and choke her.

"You're forgiven," she replied, leaning into his touch. "It takes two to tango— I shouldn't have baited you like I did. I knew how badly that would hurt you, and that's exactly why I said it."

At that, Eren cracked a grin.

"I expect nothing less from a Kirschtein. Your grandfather would have punched me square in the jaw— and as big as that bastard got when we were older, he probably would have put me on my ass."

(Y/N) couldn't help but laugh, and Eren joined her, their combined joy swelling until there was nothing else in the world but their happiness.

How they started kissing, neither one of them would be able to say afterwards, but in the grand scheme of things, it hardly mattered. Their love was too large to contain, too much to hold back— and it was love, (Y/N) realized, though she hadn't quite put words to it yet. She loved Eren Jaeger, a Creature, a monster, as much as her grandfather before her had and more. She loved him with a desperation that felt like being knocked over by an ocean wave and plunged into depths where her feet no longer touched the sand. She loved him more than she had ever loved anyone before.

And, as he placed her gently on her bed that was barely big enough for two, divesting himself of his shirt above her, (Y/N) thought that maybe she didn't mind it so much as long as he loved her in return.

"I missed you," said Eren, dropping kisses by her ear as he unhooked her bra. "I missed this."

"Me too," she gasped as his mouth wandered to her nipple, her hands fisting in his hair. "Oh, God, I missed you too."

The time for words was soon gone, however; Eren's sinful, sinful mouth traveled lower and lower until he was kissing at the insides of her thighs, parting them to access what lay between, and (Y/N) threw her head back as he spread her open with his hands and sucked brazenly at her clit.

How long he spent there, worshipping her sex, (Y/N) had no idea; all she knew was that she came once from his mouth on her and a second time from his fingers inside her, and when he finally, mercifully withdrew, she was broken down to the simplest parts of herself; there was nothing left but an affection so deep that it threatened to overtake her if she didn't let it out, and she did the only thing she knew to do to release the overwhelming pressure that was building in her chest as Eren pushed his big, veiny cock into her.

She told him what she should have said a long time ago.

"Oh, Eren," she gasped as his cockhead shoved deep inside her. "I love you."

As soon as the words came out of her mouth, Eren went unnaturally still. He looked at her with pupils blown wide inside emerald eyes, and his fangs slightly distended; in any other situation, (Y/N) might have laughed at how surprised he seemed, but it seemed as though she were frozen in time, unable to do anything but stare earnestly up at them, hoping he understood how much she cared for him.

"You… what?"

"I love you," she repeated, her body moving without her permission to roll her hips up into him, moving his cock even further inside her. "Please, Eren, I need—"

He cut her off with a forceful, bruising kiss, and his hips started making slow, deep thrusts inside her, her legs hiked up over his shoulders.

"Again," he said against her lips."Say it again."

"I love you."

Another thrust or two, a hand circling her wounded throat.

"Again."

"I love you, Eren."

"Again."

This time, it was only a whisper.

"I love you," she said, and Eren began fucking her in earnest.

"You are so fucking beautiful," he told her as he thrust hard and deep inside her. "You're every man's dream, a nirvana the damned such as myself were never meant to reach. (Y/N), you are everything, and I—"

He seemed to choke on the words, and (Y/N) kissed him as he tried to regain his composure.

"I don't deserve you," he said, shaking with the force of their passion. "I don't deserve your love."

It's not about deserving, she wanted to say, It never was, but then she was coming again, her climax contracting her walls around her lover, and it was all she could do to remain conscious as Eren fucked her relentlessly through it all, chasing his own high.

It was only later, after a shower and something to eat that they finally spoke again. They were back in bed, and Eren's arm was wrapped around her, as though he were afraid to let her go for even a moment; truthfully, (Y/N) thought he was asleep, but then his breath tickled her ear as he said,

"I love you, angel."

And that, (Y/N) thought, had been worth it all, in the end.

#aot x y/n #aot x reader #aot #aot fanfiction #eren x reader #vampire!eren jaeger #aot smut

38 notes · View notes

shades-of-stony · 3 years ago

Text

Time Travel Stony Fanfic

Character from the Future travels to the Past

A Shadow Hanging Over Our Fate by CaptainDean13

Summary: The Avengers get sent back in time to WWII where they run into the Howling Commandos... complete with Bucky and Steve. Little hard to explain that away, especially when you are trying to keep some major secrets. Secrets like how you ended up in the future and why the hell Bucky is now a scary (reformed) assassin with a metal arm, not to mention that you married your friend's son.

Note: A 1000/10 READ. THIS IS SO FREAKIN’ GOOD THAT I READ IT 3 TIMES SINCE I FIRST FOUND IT LAST YEAR. It’s a nice and well written time travel fic with the howling commandos and past Steve and Bucky!!

A New Way For Us by ann2who

Summary: They fight Thanos—and they’re losing. And before Tony knows what’s happening, he’s standing with Doctor Strange in front of the Eye of Agamotto and gets send back in time. Can he find a way to fix things this time around, or are they doomed to fall apart all over again?

Note: This is where Tony went back in time to fix everything that went wrong and prepare for the arrival of Thanos! Due to an unexpected twist of fate, he found himself getting closer to Steve of all people!

Two More Miracles (To Be A Saint) by queenpenthesilea

Summary: “Get up, Stark, you sleep too much. You said you would teach me paper football.”

Tony’s eyes snapped open. No. No. Had it all been a dream? Had he just imagined five years – five years - of an idyllic life, complete with a beautiful, wonderful daughter? He pushed himself up, looking around; he was on the Milano – he was on the fucking Milano, and either this was a really weird version of hell or everything had been a dream. Or, a little voice whispered, something had gone horribly, horribly wrong with the infinity stones.

Note: A nice and juicy post-Endgame Time Travel fanfic!! Though, this one held a few what ifs.

Saving the World is a 12 Step Program by janonny

Summary: Tony and Steve fall to pieces when Thanos’ wins.

Then they pick themselves up, and find a solution. They also find something infinitely more precious in the process.

“It’s going to sound pretty outrageous,” Tony admitted, rubbing a hand over his brow. While he had put on some weight and wasn’t as gaunt anymore, he was still easily tired nowadays.

“More outrageous than talking racoons and a purple villain traveling through space to collect magic stones?” Steve asked drily.

Note: This is another post-Endgame fanfic but with a twist and different take on the whole time travel!

Oh, Snap by wedelia

Summary: Peter wakes up, and he’s simultaneously five years too early and right on time.

Or, Post-Endgame Peter goes back in time and accidentally-on-purpose gets Steve and Tony together before the initial snap happens. And, oh, yeah—he also recruits a former-Air-Force-pilot-turned-galactic-hero, has lunch with Black Widow, and somehow befriends Nick Fury. This changes things.

Note: It’s Peter who time travels this time around!!

If We Never Got This Second Chance by Pookaseraph

Summary: When Tony and Steve’s son from the future, Jake Jensen, arrives at Avenger’s Tower, the two of them are forced to confront some hard truths: Tony that he might not actually become a horrible father, and Steve that he might not be able to set aside his discomfort with sharing a child with another man. When they both get a second chance at a first try at fatherhood, it’s up to the two of them to learn from their own future's past.

Note: Anyone up for some future son time travel? Enjoy this nicely written fanfic of Stony’s future son traveling and meeting the past versions of his parents! Past versions that are not even together yet! Things are about to get weird for Steve and Tony.

Your Name on Every Wall by Sineala

Summary: The Time Gem throws Steve into the past rather than the future, and in doing so, it gives him the opportunity to undo his past mistakes. But when it turns out that all of his mistakes involve Tony Stark, Steve begins to wonder if he's ever going to be able to mend things between them.

Note: A unique plot where Steve travels to the future and realizes what he is missing on!

Together, At Dawn by RoseGoldAmpersand

Summary: Steve returns the Infinity Stones to New York and finds himself in conversation with Tony of the past. More mature and willing to listen to Tony he realises that what he previously thought were taunts was actually Tony flirting with him.

In light of this new discovery and alone in Tony’s workshop after the battle of New York, one thing leads to another...

Note: ohhhhh, some juicy smut anyone?

Don't Look Back, You Can Never Look Back. by iL0Vsuperman

Summary: Tony Stark: billionaire, playboy, philanthropist, and, now, superhero.

It’d only been a few months prior that he’d revealed to the world he was Iron Man and life couldn’t be better.

That is…until he stumbled upon an old abandoned Hydra lab and kinda set off one of their machines by accident. A blast of blue light later and he found himself in the same lab…only it is seventy years earlier and it is full of Hydra agents.

Cue the entrance of the Howling Commandos led by Tony’s childhood hero, Captain America.

Suddenly, Tony is living out a dream. He’s joining up with the Commandos in the search to get Tony back to his right era. It’s the adventure of a lifetime and, at first, it’s amazing…but then he and Steve connect in ways more than just friendship and he finds that he is torn between wanting to stay with him or go back home.

In the end, whatever the result, he loses.

Note: Tony meets his childhood heroes-the Howling Commandos and Captain America!

The Future is Yet in Your Power by FestiveFerret

Summary: "Now." Wong leaned back in his chair. "What would you do to save this world from Thanos' attack? What would you sacrifice?"

"Anything," Steve said. "Anything at all."

Wong considered him for a moment, expression unreadable. "There's one thing, maybe."

Note: This is nice fanfic about Steve putting everything on the line to hopefully make a change.

The Good or Bad Thing by petreparkour for SeetheSea

summary: “It’s the metal suit,” Thor informed Steve, his normally-booming voice tinny over the SHIELD comms. “What did Stark call it—Iron Man?”

“But he’s down here,” Steve protested as the Hulk roared in Stark’s face, startling him into waking with a shout. “How could—”“It’s damaged,” Thor reported. “But it looks different. More advanced. And he—ah. He’s carrying you, Captain.”

“Please tell me nobody kissed me,” Stark breathed out, and then Stark’s voice suddenly came over the comms, but the man lying next to him hadn’t moved.“

Guys, come on, you’re killing me here. What is it, 2012? God, I hate time travel. First, I'm fighting Thanos. Now, I have to deal with my past self and Thor's bad haircut? Oh my God, Cap, yes I hacked their comms, they’re my comms.”

Steve nearly opened his mouth to protest that he hadn’t said anything when he realized that this replica of Tony Stark wasn’t speaking to him.

Note: Future Tony and Steve accidentally traveling in the past!

Character from the Past travels to the Future

hold the things you wanna say by SailorChibi

Summary: Tony is still a consultant, and between SI, the team and SHIELD he's overworked and exhausted. That's okay.

He and Steve have been having sex for weeks but that's all it is, just sex, and Tony wants more but he'll never get it and that's okay. Really.

What's not okay is the fact that Howard Stark has somehow appeared in the future and is the same as always.

This is definitely going to fuck up his schedule.

Note: ANGST! READY YOUR TISSUES.

Twice Upon a Time by TsaritsaElena

Summary: Tony Stark has never had an easy relationship with his father, but when Howard Stark circa 1983 time travels to the future in a freak accident, things get even more complicated, especially since Tony is dating his dad’s idol, Captain America, and Howard doesn’t know. As they work toward a solution that will restore Howard to his own timeline, will Tony get a second chance at a father-son relationship with his dad, or is he in for more of the same unforgiving treatment from Howard? Time travel, Avengers missions, and a secret project of Howard’s: things at Stark Tower are about to get a little crazy.

Note: SOME MORE ANGST AND HOWARD TRAVELLING TO THE FUTURE.

The Future Is Ours (Whether We Want It Or Not) by ann2who

Summary: After a hit from the Time Stone, Steve switches places with his future self.

Note: Another of Steve traveling to the future! Though this time, it features both timeline! Both POV of the past and future!

Ordinary Men by RiaRose

Summary: "Aren't you at all happy to see me?" Howard shot back, holding his glass out and pointing with his index finger. At Steve's stony face, he dropped his arm. "Want a glass?" he tried, picking up an empty tumbler, "This is good stuff."

"Tony doesn't skimp on - well - anything. And no, thank you."

"Was that Tony?" he queried, gesturing toward the hallway the other man had disappeared down. Steve nodded but didn't give any more information, so Howard repeated his earlier question, "Aren't you happy to see me?"

It took Steve a moment to answer. Howard could see his jaw working.

"No, not anymore."

In which Howard travels to the future and just messes up everybody's day, Steve is conflicted, and Tony is a piping hot mess, as per usual. It's not going to be easy, but Steve and Tony have to somehow navigate through Howard's arrival and the strain it puts on their relationship.

Note: From the summary alone, you can tell that THIS WILL BE ANGSTY.

To Have My Time Again... by WilmaKins

Summary: It's been two years since Siberia, and Tony Stark is still dealing with the fallout - personal and political. Life is quite complicated enough, without Bruce falling through a wizards roof yelling that Thanos is coming.

Thor and Loki are stalling, but time is running out. The fate of the universe is at stake. Steve Rogers is back in the picture. Really, the last thing Tony needs is for their plan to go horribly wrong and bring Howard Stark forward in time.

But his Dad *is* standing in his office, whether he likes it or not.

So, it looks like Tony will have to fix that mess too.

Note: There is just something about Howard-travels-to-the-future fanfics.

Howard Stark Meets The Avengers by SerlinaBlack

Summary: Howard Stark unknowingly travels to the future with his son and wife. Luckily the heroes of the future were somewhat ready for it. Unluckily , they don't seem to like him very much

Alternative summery: when will Howard learn? Not now lmao.

Note: ANOTHER ONE.

#stony #stony fanfiction #stony fanfic #stony fic #stony fic rec #stevetony #stevetony fic rec #steve and tony #steve and tony fic #superhusbands #stevetony fanfic

77 notes · View notes

hansolmates · 4 years ago

Text

(secret) lovers | m

summary; the (not) best friends 2 lovers spin-off where jungkook and you are trying to hide your relationship from his old best friend pairing; jungkook x reader (f) genre/warnings; established relationship, jiyu is now an old friend and mc went to high school w them, weeb!koo, jk n mc be kinda stanky bc they’re only going to this party for the free booze, soft dom!mc, switch!koo, whiny koo, mc calls jk a slut, cockwarming, gets really soft n’loving at the end, heavy use of the pet name [redacted] i really think this couple is meant to be diabolically dumb together w/c; 2.7k a/n; this couple is really out here living rent free in my mind. jk, mc and jiyu really just are that thruple that i love to hate and hate to love. hope u enjoy this lil spin off!

[series masterlist]

“You made it!”

Jiyu flings her hands out, knocking both your heads with hers in the middle in a surprisingly strong hug. It’s a complete episode of déjà vu, from the way her body smells like the peach lotion she used after gym class to the shade of coral lipgloss. From the corner of your eye, you can see the caramel brunette’s tiny face is inching closer towards your ride, her head tucking in the crook of his neck.

“Jiyu,” you beam. You’re the first to speak, the first to dip their toe in the water. “You look great!”

“Thank you!” she pulls away, popping her hip against the doorway. The silky material of her coverup gleams in the sunlight, the silvery material showing off the silhouette of her bikini-clad body. Despite the fact that you’re the one who compliments Jiyu, her gaze floats over to the person next to you, “what a coincidence you two came at the same time and—oh my, and where are my manners! Come in, come in!”

She moves away from the door, revealing an ornate lobby and two twin stairwells. You can’t help but light up at the beautiful crystal chandelier, flecks of pink and blue flickering in your eyes. Further down the hallway you spot open glass doors that lead to a large backyard that overlooks the lake. Some people are already sitting by the dock, lounging about with drinks and happy smiles on their faces.

“Actually,” Oh, he speaks. You think with a small smile on your face, side eyeing the man of the minute, “I forgot the rest of my luggage. We’ll meet you inside.”

“Okay!” Jiyu smiles, “I’ll make you guys some drinks.”

As soon as the door shuts, Jeon Jungkook, your boyfriend for three years blurts out, “She still has a crush on me.”

You snort, taking off the duffle bag that’s hiding behind your back. Continuing to stand awkwardly at the front door, you prepare yourself to console your boyfriend’s worries. “She still has heart-eyes for you, Koo,” you tease, pinching his side.

His eyes are big and swimming with guilt, “We should tell her.”

“Oh, baby. We can’t break her heart this weekend.”

“But love, it’s her birthday.”

“Exactly,” you chirp, bumping your head against his arm, “can’t break her heart on her birthday.”

Jiyu is an old high school friend. Class president, straight As, and even vied for prom queen. The only thing she wasn’t able to obtain throughout her high school years was Jeon Jungkook, the object of her affections. They were best friends in elementary school, eventually turning into distant friends as their interests changed and they got older. Yet, Jiyu still tried to insert herself into Jungkook’s life. Back in high school it was surely cute, the way she’d pine from the back of the room and place anonymous love letters in his locker, but Jungkook wasn’t interested and avoided any of her advances. Fast forward ten years later and it seems like old flames never die out.

The meetups with Jiyu have been scarce since college and only in large groups. As former class president, she decided to hold a little reunion for her old friends, taking advantage of her stellar job benefits. A weekend in the woods, perfectly balmy and far away from the city.

“I don’t wanna lie,” Jungkook nearly whines, pink lips warbling at your inability to budge.

“Mm,” you hum, tracing the fingers across the seam of his back pocket. His boardshorts hide nothing, and you curl your fingers around the swell of his plump bum, “be good for me and tell a little white lie, will you?”

Jeon Jungkook, former President of the Anime Club, prom king candidate and your favorite nerd in the entire world.

A teeny tiny lie won’t hurt anyone. After all, you haven’t seen your high school buddies in literal years, and they wouldn’t dare bother to make a fuss about your relationship. In fact, they don’t know of your relationship with Jungkook. The two of you reconnected randomly, some spontaneous holiday party Kim Seokjin is always inclined to throw. You barely made eye contact the first two hours into it, not really wanting to go back to the hellhole that was your late teenage years. Nevertheless, by the end of the night the two of you couldn’t help yourself.

As you look around the room with utmost confidence, the two of you have made the finest glow up by far. At first you wanted to keep the white lie to save face, you don’t owe anyone an explanation as to how you and the President of the Anime Club hooked up. However, you’re starting to enjoy the ruse.

Jungkook’s sitting on the other side of the backyard, looking absolutely delicious as he sips on whatever fruity cocktail he created. Judging from yours, you have a feeling his drink probably consists of 95% orange juice and 5% alcohol.

Jiyu and him are sitting in the large netted hammock, swinging lightly. Gravity is doing its thing, and Jiyu is practically laying on top of Jungkook’s lap, her body pooling to where his meets in the middle. As soon as his thigh touches hers, his eyes flicker to you in panic. He’s shirtless, only with a pair of mid-cut shorts to protect him. The skin that touches him probably burns.

You wink and wave him away, assuring him it’s fine. Pretending to flip your hair, you turn back to the conversation you’ve been ignoring for the past five minutes. “Man, Jungkook’s so sexy,” Im Nayeon cooes, looking longingly at Jungkook’s form.

“Jiyu’s so lucky,” Rina eggs on, taking another shot from the tray (a tray for herself, you might add.)

“Do you think Jiyu’s gonna get some birthday sex tonight?”

Nayeon snorts, covering her flared nostrils with her hand. That hand eventually loops around your thigh, eagerly pushing you two together by pressing on the meat of your bare skin. “If she’s lucky! Besides, we all know Jungkook had that big crush on you junior year!”

Her pretty bunny teeth tease you, and you can’t help but smile back in return. “What do you mean, he really liked me?” you ask innocently.

“Oh yeah! Drew so many little pictures of you in the margins. Little anime versions of you in his favorite outfits.” Of course, you know about Jungkook’s old crush on you. He’s mentioned it in passing, paired with an adorable blush on his cheeks. Hearing it from Nayeon, the shameless grin on her lips and the ease of champagne on her breath is much more entertaining. “Rina, do you remember when Jungkook set up her desk with rose petals and chocolate in a little heart? And then in the morning the janitor sweeped it up? He was so sad!”

“Yes! I really felt for him,” Rina pouted.

“Oh, poor baby,” you didn’t know that bit of information. You put a hand over your heart, watching as Jungkook shares a drink with his old friend Kim Mingyu. He looks so different, yet all the same since you’ve been acquaintances in high school. He carries his own weight now, an air of confidence that he’s finally reached over time.

“Definitely not a baby anymore,” Rina scoffs. She clicks her tongue back to where Jungkook is seated.

The sun is doing wonders for him, highlighting every crevice of where his biceps curl and twist as he lifts his hand in another drink. Their side of the lawn is doing a toast. For what, you don’t know. You do know however, that Jiyu is trying very hard to cheer right over Jungkook’s thighs, spilling some liquid over his knees. You smirk when Jiyu sends him an apologetic grin, dabbing a napkin up and across his thighs, far away from the wet spot.

Jungkook, the poor guy, discreetly shoves her off. He brushes his hands and gets up, letting Jiyu fall back in the hammock all by herself. Avoiding the teasing gazes of his friends, he looks into the lake, hiding his blush.

Still a baby, you think. Your baby.

“Jiyu was practically sitting in your lap, baby boy,” you card your hand through his dark locks, fresh and shiny from the shower. The feeling is soothing to Jungkook’s scalp until you tug, arching his neck towards your lips and twisting, “did you like that,” you mumble into his Adam’s apple, “my little slut?”

“N-no! Never, ohgodnever—” Jungkook is sweating, fat beads rolling down his hairline and glistening across his face. His fingers are practically phasing through your skin, the crescents of his fingernails sinking into the swell of your bottom.

You clench around his dick, your soft folds urging Jungkook closer to his release. But he knows better not to move, and instead shudders from the ministrations, breaking apart from you to dip his head into your chest. His nose pokes at the bouncy flesh, nuzzling into your breast like the softest pillow.

“Sh-shit, love,” he cries into your skin, “you feel so warm n’soft.”

“You need to be quiet, baby,” you murmur, playing with the curls that hang around the nape of his neck, “unless—you want someone to hear? My little slut wants everyone to hear that I’m fucking you?”

“Mm, no,” you grin at his honest reaction, and you can feel his neck heating up at the thought. Your fingers make their way, finally ending towards the apples of his cheeks. You squish lightly, loving the way his tanned skin puffs under your fingers. “I’m—ah—not a slut. I just really love you, only you. Really wanted to hold you in my lap today and show you off,” he whimpers at the unconscious clench of your folds, “just uh—slut for you, love.”

You giggle, tightening your thighs around your boyfriend’s tiny waist. Your other hands trail down to the ridges of his abdomen, where you two are connected. You absolutely love the way your thighs wrap around his lean waist.

Jiyu split the floors by girls and boys, as if you’re still in high school. It took forever for everyone to fall asleep, but you managed to sneak away with your bare feet slapping against the hardwood floor. Call yourself needy, but you couldn’t imagine yourself falling asleep with at least one good night kiss. Jungkook was ten steps ahead of you. Your boyfriend was already naked when you arrived, pumping his cock across the bed and getting himself ready for you. His eyes instantly zeroed in on you in his shirt, the black material hanging off your shoulder and begging to be pulled away by his teeth.

“If I crawled in your lap today,” you murmur into his shoulder, “our whole secret would’ve been thrown out the window.”

“I wouldn’t have minded, even if Jiyu got hurt,” Jungkook admits, running his hands up and down your back, “I wanna marry you, y’know.”

You freeze in your ministrations, suddenly feeling the room go cold. Not in an unpleasant way, but the room freezes, the blue-white light of the moon igniting the seriousness in Jungkook’s gaze. You force yourself to stay on his lap, let his cock settle between your folds. The juices of your coupling are dripping down each other’s legs, cooling at your thighs and onto the white blankets.

“You wanna marry me?” you echo, running your thumbs across his shiny lips.

Of course, you’re at that age. Everyone around you is getting married, heck many people your age are already in the middle of creating a family, going on vacations to Disney and picnics in the playground. And yes, you also have thought about marrying Jungkook, he’s the only man you can picture marrying. Yet, hearing it out loud and from him only further fuels your desire to make these thoughts a reality.

He kisses your thumbs, lips smushing against the pads. “Of course I do, love. You’re it for me.”

You relinquish, slowly pulling yourself off of him. He’s still hard as you untack yourself, his member slapping against his belly button as he watches you in confusion. You make a show of fluffing up the pillows, arching your back and wiggling your ass as you make yourself comfortable to lay on your back.

“Show me, baby,” you spread your legs for him, gesturing for him to come closer with a curl of your finger, “show me how much you want to marry me.”

Jungkook smirks, hands immediately pumping with a squelching sound resulting from yours and his combined arousal. You love it when Jungkook takes the lead, just as much as you do. It makes you feel like a pillow princess, especially when you feel lovey sex is on the way. “Will you be quiet? Just like you tried to make me quiet?” he rasps, wrapping a hand around your waist to arch you up.

“Depends on how good you are.”

The head of his dick rubs against your clit, slapping lightly at the shiny skin. You both moan when he finally gives you what you both need. As soon as the tip of his dick sinks down, you feel like you’ve both hit home. It doesn’t take long for him to find his pace, naturally throwing your leg over his shoulder for added leverage.

“Oh—fuck, baby,” you tug at his hair, pulling him in for a wet kiss. You don’t care that you’re slobbering all over him, the bed creaking and squeaking against his minstraitions. “I—uh, you feel so deep—yes!”

“When we’re married I’ll fuck you every day like this, love,” he whispers between your lips, thrusting in a particularly sensitive spot that has you arching your back and pulling your chest to his, “I—ugh, I love you so much.”

“Love you. Love youlovelove—ah! Kook, I’m—”

The two of you don’t spare any time, the sun will eventually rise and you’ll be back to playing strangers. Jungkook pounds you into the mattress, nails you with enough cum for you to last the next day without having to sneak into each other’s room like horny teenagers. The roughness is smoothed out by love and bliss, eager at the thought of going home and anticipating a permanent life together.

Five minutes later, you’re starting to feel a little too sticky. “Ohmygod—I need to fucking pee,” you pull yourself away from Jungkook’s sweaty body, palming around for your t-shirt.

“Just pee on the bed,” Jungkook grins.

“You’d like that, wouldn’t you,” you make a face, “nasty.”

“You like that I’m nasty.”

“Yeah yeah.”

With one last kiss, you skip away from his bedroom and close the door behind you. Unfortunately, as soon as you take five steps in the direction of the bathroom, somebody emerges from the shadows.

“Holy shit, Jiyu,” you put a hand on your heart, eyes widening at her peeking in from the hallway. “You scared me.”

“I’m so sorry,” she frowns, squinting her eyes to make you out in the dark. It’s easier to see her in her white slip, a thin chiffon material that barely covers her thighs.

You don’t question why she’s out in the hallway in really pretty lingerie, or why she’s on the boy’s side of the house. So much for being discreet. Then again, there must be an ulterior motive for her if she’s already here, five feet away from Jungkook’s room. You wouldn’t have been caught if she hadn’t been so sneaky. (Well, not so sneaky. You got to him first.) You smell like sweat, arousal, and Jungkook. The shirt you’re wearing feels far too short and the cum in your panties feels tacky and gooey. You feel like a teenager being caught smoking.

“Why?” Jiyu’s voice suddenly sounds as dark as the early morning, no sign of the sun.

“Why what?” you answer, furrowing your brows at the sudden change in demeanor.

“Why?” she hisses, eyes wide with pain and confusion, “why Jungkook?”

You frown, not liking her attitude. Did she think it was a contest to who would fuck Jungkook first? Did she think she was being slick, sneaking away into a bedroom she has no business being in, even if he was single? You could laugh. So despite your height you steel yourself, looking at Jiyu straight in the eye.

“Because Jungkook’s mine, and I’m marrying him.”

As you pad down the hallway as fast as you can, you send Jungkook a quick text.

[5:44AM] love: pack it up. Plan b go fake a fever we gotta go lol

#jungkook smut #jungkook x reader #btsghostie #kwritersworldnet #btswritingcafe #btsguild #jungkook fic #jungkook fluff #bts fic #bts smut

313 notes · View notes

nose-bandaid · 4 years ago

Text

the moon told me so ☾~

Wonwoo x (gender neutral) Reader | soulmate AU angst | 4.5k words

synopsis: in a world where you and your soulmate share a special marking that appears on one’s body at the age of 18 or later. you were wonwoo’s, but wonwoo was no one’s, and you were the fool who didn’t say a word about it. alternatively:

you are in love with jeon wonwoo, but jeon wonwoo isn’t ready to love yet.

a/n: i uh, feel kinda shy posting this lmao but i hope you enjoy:))

sequel: the little flower on your wrist and the epilogue: kairosclerosis

=====

“When are you going to tell him?”

“Tell who?”

Seungkwan sighed and gave you a knowing look. “Wonwoo, who else would I be talking about?”

“I don’t have anything I need to say to him.” You muttered into the warm knitted scarf wrapped around your neck. The snow fell gently around you in large clumps — the kids on your street were sure to be delighted when they wake up to that. It wouldn’t be long before you started seeing snowmen pop up one by one, all with little carrots and hats decorating them, giving them life. However, to you, the snow only added to the weight in your heart. The peaceful, yet lonely atmosphere made you want to curl back into your bed and sleep your sadness away. And then you could hope that maybe when you woke up, all of your problems would be solved.

Yes, that sounded like a much better option, compared to standing around in the cold weather, waiting for a late taxi. But you promised him that you would show up today. As much as you didn’t want to, you weren’t one to break the promises you made. Promises were meant to be kept.

And so, you woke up at a horrid 4 am today and dressed yourself with the best outfit your sluggish mind could think of. All to make sure that you were at the airport on time, just for him.

“Y/n... this might be your last chance. I mean, this is already terribly last minute for you to do so, but we also have no idea when he’ll come back.” Seungkwan’s voice softened when he noticed your stressed demeanour.

“Listen, I know, okay? I’ll tell him today, I’ve been preparing what to say for the past week. I just... I just need to get myself together, that’s all.” The words spilled out of your mouth as you tried to get him to stop nagging.

Before you could get a response, the taxi pulled up in front of you, and you busied yourself with getting a seat in the back while Seungkwan relayed the destination to the driver. He then took a seat in the passenger’s side, leaving you alone in the back with the little present you brought with you by your side.

The whole car ride was silent, minus the soft music that played from the radio — some kind of ambient jazz that only made the atmosphere even more awkward. You fidgeted with the bracelet dangling on your wrist and looked out the window, the yellow beads clinking against each other to add some noise to the silence. The buildings passed by with a blur, and every so often you would come across a location that prompted a treasured memory in you.

The mall that you and Wonwoo would visit almost everyday during middle school. Your parents weren’t the fondest of the idea that you guys were going there so often, but you went either way. There was ice cream to be eaten, game demos to be played, outfits (that you could definitely not afford) to try on, and snacks to be bought.

The arcade that you so daringly visited when you were supposed to be in class. It was Mingyu who had suggested the idea, as a joke, but everyone started getting on board with it and soon you were roped into the adventure too. None of you guys were really the type to skip school, the thought just never visited your mind, and you had other things to worry about. On that day though, you decided to let yourself be just the slightest bit free, and with a little convincing, you got Wonwoo of all people, to come along too.

That day was a blast, the thrill of rebellion, the refreshing taste of freedom, even the stuffiness of the arcade was bearable — your uniform was far too warm for the environment. Miraculously, there was no big punishment for your absence when you returned, just a light scolding, and that simply heightened the excitement of the day. You never pulled such an act ever again, but you most definitely held that memory dear to your heart. Because on that day, Wonwoo’s smiles were almost a thousand times brighter than usual.

Your eyes flickered between the trees that trickled their way into your view, and they steadily grew in numbers to paint a forest in front of you. Though their leaves were barren and their branches were heavy with snow, all you could think of were the lush green forests that surrounded the cottage you visited almost a year ago. The one that you and your friends rented out, the one that housed some of the happiest moments in your life, the one that echoed some of the loudest laughs ever, the one that kept you warm under the cool night, as you snuggled into each other’s arms.

The one that witnessed your life fall apart.

-----

You remembered that dreary day, when Wonwoo pulled you aside from the others and into a little alcove in the forest nearby, a nervous look painted on his face. Your friend group had decided to spend the warm weekend at the cottage to celebrate Wonwoo’s birthday and new soulmate mark. They all insisted that it was tradition to host an all-out celebration for the occasion, despite the boy’s refusals. If they celebrated for the others, they had to celebrate for him as well.

You were all about to head to the beach for a swim before barbecuing some dinner, the weather was a comfortable mix of the warm sun and the cool breeze. It should’ve been perfect.

Let’s put an emphasis on should’ve.

When you finished changing, before you could catch up to the others who were already dunking themselves into the frigid water, laughter getting lost in the vast forest, Wonwoo stopped you at the front door with a gentle grip on your arm. From the looks of it, he’d been waiting for you for a while.

“Hey y/n... could we talk for a minute?”

And that question brought you to a wooden bench in a small clearing, hidden away from the others’ sight. The sunlight filtered through the leaves above, casting a delicate pattern around you. The air of uneasiness between you two was so contrasting to the mood a few moments ago, that you were immediately filled with worry. The last time you saw Wonwoo, he was laughing his head off with Mingyu and Seokmin over a stupid dad joke that someone made. Now, there was no trace of that former carefree personality.

“Wonwoo what’s up? Is something wrong?”

He bit his lip, clearly deep in thought. “You know how I’m supposed to be getting my mark tomorrow?”

You nodded. “Yeah, that’s why we all came here to celebrate right? Is it too much for you? I can tell the others to cool off on the partying, I know they can be overwhelming.”

“No it’s not that, I don’t mind it. It’s just... I’m honestly not so sure about this whole soulmate thing.” His voice was small and his shoulder tensed as he awaited your response.

“Like, you’re worried about the mark not showing up tomorrow?”

“No, I’m worried that I won’t be able to love my soulmate the way I’m supposed to.” He clarified, a bit firmer now.

Your heart stopped.

“Well,” You you pursed your lips as your mind raced to gather the best way to respond. “You could always just tell them right? That you’re not ready for a relationship, I’m sure they would understand.”

“But what if I’m never ready?” His confidence had suddenly disappeared, and you could feel that he was getting panicky, so you rested a gentle hand on his thigh to calm him down. “That feels so unfair to them. Like I’m going against fate.”

You swallowed back the emotions building up in your throat. You were hoping for the already low chance that he would be your soulmate, that maybe the stars would be in your favour and offer you an easy happy ending of some sort. After all these years together, you felt that there was almost no way that you couldn’t be paired together in some way. But now, even if you were soulmates, Wonwoo had just denied the only possibility for you to get together. Romantically, at least. Which was unfortunately, what you’ve been hoping for all this time.

“You could always just be friends right? There’s some people out there who just decide to be friends and there’s nothing wrong with that. Soulmates aren’t always about romantic love.” It was the best you could offer. You were fine with pushing back your feelings for him if it meant that he’ll be happy with his decision. The last thing you wanted to do was force your love onto him.

“Yeah but do you really know anyone who’s done that? Y/n, everyone around us started dating their soulmate the moment they found them. They’re going to come to me with that mindset and I’m going to have to shut them down.” He paused. “The person that they’ve been searching for all their lives will be shutting them down. Don’t you think that’s harsh on my part? That I should just suck it up and get together with them?”

“Wonwoo, I can’t speak up on behalf of your soulmate,” You choked back the pitiful laugh building up in your throat. “but if they’re supposed to be the perfect match for you, I think they would try their best to understand your feelings, because you deserve to be matched with one of the kindest people in the world.”

He didn’t take his gaze off the pebbles his shoes prodded at, and you took that as a sign to continue.

“With that said, let’s just enjoy today, and all the other days to come as we wait for your soulmate. And when they come along, we’ll take things one step at a time, and work through the problem as it plays along. Worrying about it beforehand isn’t going to do you any good, don’t you agree? That’s what you told me before right?”

Wonwoo slowly nodded and slipped his hands back onto his lap. “You’re right, I’m worrying too much about something that hasn’t happened to me yet. What if I don’t even get my mark this year? I won’t be able to totally forget the problem, but I’ll try my best to put it aside for now.” He smiled softly to himself, and you patted his shoulder.

“That’s the spirit! So you wanna go back to the others and go for a swim? If you’re up to it?”

“Yeah, I think that would be nice. Thanks for listening, y/n.” He got up from the bench and offered you a hand which you gratefully took. Silence settled between you too as you made your way out of the forest and back to the beach. The others were quick to notice you and began eagerly calling for you guys to jump in. Before you gave in to their persistent requests, you paused for a moment and started talking again.

“Oh, and Wonwoo?”

He stopped a few steps ahead of you and turned around. “Yeah?” He looked much lighter than he did a few moments ago, but for some reason, your heart broke a little at his happiness.

You gave him a downcast smile, and if he sensed the dismal tone in your voice, he didn’t say anything about it. “Just know that there’s nothing wrong with wanting to love your soulmate platonically. I have a good feeling they’ll understand.”

Maybe you had gotten a bit ahead of yourself that day by assuming that you were going to be soulmates. No matter how much you felt that connection in your heart, Wonwoo himself never showed any signs of feeling it too. This whole thinking-that-he-was-your-soulmate-before-it-was-even-confirmed thing could’ve just been your mind being a mix of delusional and hopeful. But you said what you said, and it’s not like he noticed any of your hints anyways.

And it’s not like he ever will notice.

------

The next day, you woke up with a tight arm wrapped around your waist and the sun shining on your face. If it was any other day, you would’ve simply closed your eyes and fallen back asleep without caring so much about what time it was, but thankfully you had enough sense in you to remember the date.

July 17th.

Lifting your head fully off the pillow, you followed the arm hugging you to find Chan, buried underneath a soft blanket, still snoring away. Nudging him lightly, he stirred and moved his arm to rub his eyes, freeing you.

“Morning, Chan.” You poked his nose.

He let out a few incoherent mumbles before opening his eyes and looking at you. “What?”

“It’s Wonwoo’s birthday we gotta wake up and get the others.”

“Can’t we do that in a few minutes?” He whined, and tried to return to his pillow, but you were quicker, and pulled him into a sitting position.

“No we can’t, silly, we have things to do before he wakes up.” After a little bit of bickering between you two, you finally managed to convince him to get up and he left to go take a shower. You let out a quiet sigh. One down.

Turning to the couch nearby you looked at Jun who was still sleeping soundly.

11 more to go...

By the time everyone woke up and the celebration kicked off, it was already late morning and you all settled on ordering some pizza for lunch and a couple of the boys left to pick up the food (being located in a remote cottage made it a little difficult for a pizza guy to come here out of the blue). As you waited for the food, everyone went about and did their own things to kill the time, and you found Wonwoo sitting alone on the porch. Joining him, you gave him a playful punch on the shoulder and smirked.

“Hey there, birthday boy.”

He returned the smile with little enthusiasm and you could tell a lot was on his mind.

“Everything good? You’re not worrying about your soulmate are you?” You asked.

Wonwoo averted his eyes from your gaze. “I’m just thinking about it a little bit.”

“So...” You tried your best to play it cool. “I guess what we’re all wondering is whether you’ve gotten your mark or not?”

You could’ve just dropped the topic and not asked him, more for your own good than his, because you would surely lose it if you spent another minute thinking about your soulmate. On the other hand, it would’ve been a little selfish if you chose to completely ignore the whole getting your mark on your birthday thing, but let’s be honest — what were you going to do after seeing it? Some things are better left unknown, and yet, you asked him anyways.

He hesitated for a moment before rolling up the sleeve of the hoodie he was wearing. The sun was bright outside and the humidity was definitely at a high, he must’ve been absolutely melting in that outfit, but now you knew why he dressed so conservatively today. “Yeah, I did.”

He angled himself towards you and you stared at the moon crescent just below his wrist. In place of the stars usually found in the sky, small flowers were scattered here and there. It was a beautiful, yet simple design.

Unconsciously you crossed your legs and rubbed your ankle, where the exact same design sat, hidden underneath the socks you always wore.

“That design really suits you.”

It was all you could choke out without giving anything away. No matter how hard you tried, nothing could stop the rush of emotions building up in your throat. You wanted to scream out loud, you wanted to cry out to Wonwoo, because what the hell did you do to deserve this fate? Out of all the people in the world, why did it have to be him? Why did it have to be you? You were losing it.

And so you fled. Like the fool you were, you fled.

Giving him a gentle pat on his shoulder, you excused yourself and went straight back into the cottage and into the bedroom. You didn’t leave until Chan came in and asked if you were alright and to that, you spilled everything. You didn’t care about Wonwoo’s secret at that point, because you just needed to have someone to confide with. Someone to understand you.

Though some of the story was quite a shock to him, especially considering the fact that you’ve been keeping your soulmate mark hidden from all of them, Chan listened to you with all seriousness. In the middle of your rambling, Seungkwan also walked in to see what was taking you so long. The tears on your cheek probably weren’t the best thing for him to see, but deep down, you were happy to have another person to talk to. And as you did, he looked at you with empathetic, almost pitiful eyes.

It was terrible, but still relieving.

You promised each other to keep your secret between the three of you. The others didn’t need any extra drama in their lives, and besides, they weren’t supposed to be aware of Wonwoo’s secret until he decided to tell them himself.

You spent the rest of the vacation distancing yourself from him, and instead, you stuck by Chan and Seungkwan’s sides, and they made sure to take care of you, which was something you’ll forever be grateful for. Whenever Wonwoo made his way towards you, one of them would create some sort of distraction or pipe up a new conversation to drag you away from the man in question. Eventually, he seemed to get the message that you didn’t want to be around him and didn’t try to approach you for the rest of the time there.

You felt bad. So bad for ignoring him. It was his birthday for God’s sake, and you — his best friend — were ignoring him on his birthday.

It wasn’t his fault. It totally wasn’t his fault for not wanting to be in a relationship. Just like how it wasn’t really your fault for falling head over heels for him. For loving the wrong person. But it happened against your will, and now you have to deal with the consequences of your actions.

If you had said just one more word to him on that day, would things have turned out differently? Maybe you would’ve gotten together? Maybe you would’ve come to terms as just friends?

Maybe, at least, you wouldn’t have drifted.

-----

“Happy birthday y/n.”

Wonwoo slid a neatly wrapped present across the table and you ripped it open without much hesitation, too excited to see what was inside.

It was the sweater you’ve always wanted, a soft royal purple that was decorated with constellations along the sleeves and a moon on its chest pocket. Honestly, you were interested in the sweater because it reminded you of a certain someone, and you wanted to wear it because it made you think of him. You hadn’t told him about it though, and you silently wondered how he found out.

“This doesn’t make up for anything though.” You muttered childishly and took a sip of the cool drink in front of you. You were referring to the news he dropped on you just moments before giving you the gift.

He nervously adjusted his glasses. “I’m sorry. Even I’m unhappy about moving across the world, but at the same time... y/n... this is my dream.”

You sighed and put down the drink. “I know. I’m just upset that we won’t be able to see each other for who knows how long.” You paused to think for a moment. “How long are you going to be gone for anyways?”

“At least 4 years.” He said in a small voice. “4 years for school and if I can get myself a job...” He let out a sigh in defeat.

“I don’t really know how long I’ll be there for.”

“Wow.” You breathed out. “So like I’ll really have to say goodbye then, right?”

“There’s still time, it’ll take a few months for everything to be planned and settled so don’t worry. But let’s just ignore that for now,” He swatted his hand int he air as if it would get rid of the gloomy mood settling over the table. “So much for a birthday gift right? I’m sorry for bringing this up today of all days, but I thought you deserved to know.” He smiled sadly.

“It’s fine. I appreciate you telling me right away.” You fiddled with the tag of the sweater in your hands. Ah, what the heck. Ripping off the tag entirely, you slipped the sweater on top of the clothes you were currently wearing. It was comfy, albeit a little bit stuffy with all the layers you had on, but you didn’t mind. “Thank you for the sweater by the way, I really like it, how did you know?”

“I had to do a little bit of digging to find that out.” He laughed. “I’ve noticed that you’ve been really close to Chan recently so I asked him if he knew anything about what you wanted for your birthday.”

“Ah.”

You couldn’t tell if he was hinting something about being jealous of your friendship with Chan, or if he was simply stating what he saw. You also didn’t bother to ask. The two of you sat in silence for a few minutes.

After your time at the cottage, things had fallen a little awkward between you two. You didn’t ignore him outright, you still had your usual conversations from time to time, but it was clear that at one point, you fell from best friends to practically acquaintances. Which probably was the opposite of what both of you wanted. While things have slowly been getting better overtime, the awkwardness between you two was still unbearable.

“Also...” He started tentatively.

“Mhm?”

“I was wondering if you got your mark?”

Right. He still doesn’t know. No one knew really, your own mark was still a secret kept between you, Chan, and Seungkwan. And you were planning to keep it what way, especially now that you knew that Wonwoo was literally going to disappear entirely from your life sometime soon. You knew it was a bit of a stretch to assume that. With all the technology that existed in the world, obviously you’d still be able to connect, even if there was a time difference. And surely Wonwoo would visit you guys once in a while. because he wouldn’t completely forget about you... right?

As much as you hated to admit it, no matter how hard the two of you tried, you were bound to lose each other someday. The man you loved, and still love, so dearly, will ambitiously pursue his dreams on the other side of the world while you, the lover, will miss your only chance to set things right.

You were being given another opportunity to tell him about your mark. Life was being kind enough to let you make up for your mistake at the cottage. And yet, you still looked into the eyes of your soulmate, and lied through your teeth, plastering on that same polite smile you’ve used over and over again, whenever someone asked you about your mark.

“No, not yet.”

“Oh,” His eyes darted away from yours. “I’m sorry for asking.”

“No, no, it’s alright. I guess I’m just one of those rare cases, maybe I’ll finally get it next year.” You gave him a sad smile, which really wasn’t too hard to muster.

“You’ll find your soulmate soon, y/n. Don’t worry about it.” He gave you a reassuring smile and put his hand on top of the one you had on the table.

Yeah, I won’t worry about it.

=====

The taxi jerked to a stop and you gazed into the windows of the busy airport. All kinds of people were bustling about, carrying their luggages, making frantic phone calls, corralling their kids, reuniting with loved ones. The door in front of you opened, and Seungkwan held out a hand to help you up.

“C’mon, let’s go.”

You took his hand and he gently held onto you the entire time he guided you through the winding hallways. People brushed against your shoulder but you were too focused on your racing heart to bother with an apology. When you saw Wonwoo along with a few others in the distance, your fingers nervously tightened their grip on the small gift bag in your hands.

You weren’t ready to see him yet.

There wasn’t enough time for you to create some sort of plan B, because plan A was really starting to sound stupid to you now. When Seungkwan nudged you to go say your goodbyes, you hesitantly shuffled up to him, opting to stare at his sneakers instead of his face. You felt kind of pathetic, to be honest.

“Here, this is for you.” You placed the small box into his hands and gingerly clasped it before finally letting go. He opened it and pulled out a bracelet, its intricate pattern matched the one on your wrist, except his beads were painted a deep navy blue and white.

“A bracelet?” He questioned as he slipped it onto his wrist, the small bell attached chimed along with its movement. It fit him perfectly. “Thanks y/n, you didn’t have to.”

“How could I not give you something before you go?” You countered.

“Hey, why are you acting like I’m leaving for good or something?” He joked lightly and ruffled your hair, which was rare coming from him. Usually it was the other boys who did that to you, but it’s not like you were going to refuse it. “I’ll be back before you know it.”

Well that was a blatant lie. Though neither of you knew when he would be back, it was guaranteed that he would be gone for at least a few years. And if he ended up getting a job there, you might as well kiss goodbye to any chance of seeing him until you can manage your own work life. Maybe one day, you would be able to gather enough money to pay him a visit.

“I just want to make sure you have something to remember me by.” You answered softly, still refusing to look in his eyes. “In case we don’t get to see each other again.”

In case we drift apart like we already have.

“I’ll make sure to stay in contact, I promise.”

You opened your mouth to reply as the first tear dripped onto your cheeks.

I’m your soulmate Wonwoo. Since day one, I’ve always been in love with you, so please come home soon and we can figure things out. I can wait for you.

That’s what you were supposed to say. Your mind screamed at you to say the words you so diligently rehearsed all morning, but instead you asked him in a shaky voice. “Do you think you’re going to meet your soulmate there?”

He must’ve mistook the regret in your voice as sadness over his departure, because he didn’t question your tone.

“I just might meet them, y/n.” You hated the way he sounded hopeful saying that. And then you proceeded to hate yourself for thinking that way.

“I really thought my soulmate would be someone here, but I guess not. The world works in funny ways.” He laughed a little, and it just added to the awkwardness between you two.

But it’s me, I’m your soulmate Wonwoo, do you not feel it too?

“I also still don’t know if I’m ready to do anything romantically yet.“ He added.

You simply nodded and looked straight into his eyes, vision was blurry with tears, but you still gave him the warmest smile you could possibly muster.

As of today, you’ve finally made your decision. If you were going to say goodbye to him like this, you were also going to say goodbye to the feelings you had for him. You’ll learn to move on. Like any other problem you’ve faced in life, you’ll eventually move on. And if you were going to say goodbye to him like this, you wanted to at least send him off with the best version of you.

He’d always told you he liked your smile.

“I see, well, I won’t keep you any longer and say goodbye then, Wonwoo.” You squeezed his hand firmly for the last time.

He returned the smile. “Goodbye, y/n. We’ll meet again soon.”

#seventeen #seventeen fanfic #seventeen angst #seventeen fluff #seventeen wonwoo #wonwoo #jeon wonwoo #wonwoo fanfic #wonwoo fluff #wonwoo angst #seventeen x reader #wonwoo x reader #seventeen soulmate au #nose-bandaid

308 notes · View notes

theres-an-impulstor-among-us · 4 years ago

Note

Writting request!

Hels!Impulse taking regular impulses place n stuffing him in like a closet or somethin-

N someone who's sus of him (maybe iskall?) Finds the real impulse.

Now to unmask the fake.

okay so a few quick things:

1) this ended up a LOT longer than i expected lol so i apologise for that, it’s over 2k words

2) i also didn’t entirely stick to every detail in the prompt because i had an idea i rly liked and i wanted to roll with it, so i’m rly sorry if it’s not as good as you were expecting

3) anyway i hope it’s good! it was a lot of fun to work on

...

Impulse is working on the redstone of his pumpkin and melon farm in his base when he spots a shadow moving around right at the corner of his vision. Frowning, he leaves his task and heads out into the main part of the base, looking around. “Hello?” he calls cautiously. “Grian, if this is you again…”

He gets no response.

Just as he starts to turn back, thinking he just imagined it, something slams into him and knocks him into the wall, stunning him. He looks sharply up to find…

...himself.

Impulse’s eyes widen. “Wh-Who are you?!”

The new Impulse has his arms crossed and a malicious grin on his face. “My name is Impulstor. I’m your Hels counterpart. And I’m going to take over your life as my own.”

“W-Wait, what?!”

Before Impulse can move, Impulstor seizes his lapels and drags him across the base. Impulse struggles as hard as he can but he’s still winded from being hit against the wall.

Impulstor takes him to one of the support pillars at the very edge of the base, which has a two by one block hole in it, left over from Grian’s secret base shenanigans a few weeks ago. Weakened, he’s unable to stop Impulstor from shoving him roughly through the gap.

Since the floor is a block lower than the bottom of the hole, Impulse’s foot slips and he falls heavily against the wall, hitting his head and stunning him even more. The space inside the pillar is only one block by one block, with two or three more blocks of space above his head, so as Impulse collapses, he’s forced into an uncomfortable sitting position.

Blinking back tears of pain and fear, Impulse tries sluggishly to escape but Impulstor bashes him on the head with his own pickaxe.

The last thing Impulse sees before he passes out is Impulstor blocking the gap with white concrete, trapping him in this prison.

…

Zedaph flies over the shopping district and lands a little way off from Impulse and Tango, who are sitting on one of the benches outside town hall, chatting. As he approaches, the two look up and spot him. “Hey, Zed!” Tango calls, beaming. “Wanna join me and Impy hanging out?”

“Yeah, sure! What do you have in mind?”

“Well, I thought we might go give Decked Out a group run,” Tango says. “I’d have to fix things up a little bit but that shouldn’t take more than ten minutes. I think it’d be epic to go in as a team.”

“Ooh, yeah!” Impulse grins. “I always loved that game. It terrifies me, but I loved it. Those ravagers, man. I’m always on the lookout for them and it’s terrifying with the heartbeat and everything.”

“That was the idea,” snickers Tango.

“I know, I know. Doesn’t make it any less terrifying, though.” Impulse grins. “Going in as a group would be great! I’d really like to do that.”

Zedaph involuntarily takes a step back. He doesn’t know what, but there’s something off about Impulse today. There’s something different, something he can’t quite put his finger on. He’s known Impulse a long time, but not as long as Tango, who doesn’t seem to share his doubts. Is he misreading the situation?

“Yeah, me too!” Tango enthuses. “You up for it, Zed?”

“Um, actually…” Zedaph forces a convincing cough and rubs his stomach. “I feel kinda sick all of a sudden. I think the flight over here churned my insides.”

“Oh.” Tango frowns sympathetically. “You’d better rest, then.”

“Yeah, sorry. I need to go home.”

“No problem, man. Hope you feel better.”

Zedaph slowly walks away, keeping up his charade in case the others are watching. Over his shoulder, he hears Impulse say something about his ice farm, then a few seconds later, the sound of rockets are heard as the two take off with their elytras.

He keeps going for about a minute longer, just in case, before deeming it safe and taking off with his rockets. His heart pounding, he shoots over to Impulse’s base and after crashing through the water curtain, lands neatly on the ground inside. “Impulse?” Zedaph calls, starting to rush through the pyramid base. “Impulse, are you here?”

Zedaph’s voice awakens Impulse. Blinking against the throbbing in his head, he bashes his fist against the wall of the pillar as hard as he can. “Ze-Zedaph! ZED!”

Following the sound of Impulse’s voice, Zedaph locates the pillar and slices a hole in it with his pickaxe.

To his horror, he finds Impulse squeezed inside the narrow gap, blood still dripping from the wound in his head.

“Oh my god…!”

Zedaph drags Impulse out of the pillar and lets him lie flat on the ground for a moment while he tends to his wound. Impulse doesn’t even have the strength to wince at the stinging of antiseptic.

“Are you okay?” asks Zedaph quietly. “How long have you been stuck in there?”

“A-A few hours at most, I don’t really know. What’s going on?”

“Well, fake you is cosying up to Tango. I don’t think Tango suspects anything.”

Impulse swallows back a pang of hurt. “Oh… I-I thought he knew me better than that…”

“To be fair, whoever’s masquerading as you is really, really good,” says Zedaph slowly. “I hate to say this, but even I barely noticed.”

“Really? What made you catch on?”

Zedaph hesitates. “It was more of a gut feeling than solid evidence. I dunno, there was just something about the way he talked that seemed off. It didn’t seem like you. I thought either there was something wrong with you or it wasn’t you at all.”

“And you came to the conclusion that an imposter posing as me was more likely than me having an off day?” chuckles Impulse weakly.

Zedaph matches his chuckle as he starts to wind a bandage around Impulse’s head. “Again, it was just a gut feeling.”

“Well, your gut feeling was right. Now what do we do about Impulstor?”

Zedaph immediately bursts out a laugh. “Impulstor!”

Impulse gives him a look.

Zedaph clears his throat awkwardly. “S-Sorry. Anyway, we should go and save Tango from, uh… Impulstor.”

“Shouldn’t that be easy?” remarks Impulse. “I mean, I’M me. He’s not.”

“Man, you didn’t see the way he was with Tango. He has to be some kind of clone of you or something; there’s no way he’s just a guy who’s studied the way you behave. It’s not about us not knowing you well enough; it’s him knowing every mannerism, every quirk, every facial tick. If it wasn’t for my random gut feeling, I doubt we’d have noticed for a really long time.”

Impulse’s worry increases. If Tango, someone he’s known for over a decade, couldn’t even tell the difference between him and the imposter, his clone could have the whole server fooled within hours.

“We have to get to him away from the other hermits,” Impulse says. “The longer this goes on, the harder it’ll be to convince them I’m the real Impulse. What were him and Tango doing when you left?”

“I think they were taking a look at your ice farm,” responds Zedaph.

Impulse shoots bolt upright. “Oh no! I spent ages getting that farm the exact way I wanted; he better not ruin anything!”

Zedaph grips him by the shoulders. “Hey, easy, man. You might have a concussion.”

“I don’t care! Tango is in real danger and so is everything I’ve ever built! I’m going over to my ice farm right now and you can’t stop me.”

Zedaph hesitates. He knows his friend well enough to know that he really can’t stop him. “Okay, then. I’ll come with you.”

…

“-really like this pattern,” Tango is saying, looking down at the floor underneath the ice farm. “How’d you think of it?”

“Oh, it just came to me,” says Impulstor. “Took me a while to turn all the powder to concrete.”

“I bet. Nice farm, dude!”

“Thanks!”

Impulstor watches Tango move over to the side of the farm and look down. Tango clearly suspects nothing; if he has any doubts, he’s doing an amazing job hiding them. But Impulstor isn’t worried. From his (no, not his. Impulse’s) memories of Tango, he should be fairly easy to take down if the need arises.

But what he doesn’t anticipate is his ruse falling apart so soon.

“TANGO!”

Tango jerks and snaps his head upwards to find two figures flying towards him. He blinks in shock; one of them is clearly Zedaph but the other… It can’t be…

Impulstor lets out a very quiet growl, before rearranging his face into an expression of shock. “Wait a sec…”

Impulse nearly falls over in his haste as he lands, him and Zedaph getting between Tango and Impulstor.

“What the hell is going on?!” Tango demands. “Why are there two Impulses?!”

“He’s an imposter,” declares Impulse, jabbing a finger at Impulstor. “He’s a fake Impulse.”

“No, HE’s the fake!” Impulstor snaps back. “I don’t know what’s going on here but I’m the real Impulse!”

“Oh god, this is my worst nightmare,” Tango groans. “How are we supposed to know who the real one is?”

“Look, ask me anything,” says Impulse. “I’ll answer any question you ask.”

“What was your first build when you joined Hermitcraft?” Zedaph asks.

“The witch huts in season three,” say both Impulse and Impulstor at the same time, causing the former to stare at the latter in shock.

“Who did you team up with to do the pirate ship prank in season six?” Tango asks slowly.

“Ren and Doc,” both Impulses say, again at the same time.

“What did you call your season five base?” Zedaph says.

�� Again, the answer comes simultaneously from both Impulse and Impulstor: “Atlantis.”

“Okay, stop, stop.” Tango waves his hands. “This is going nowhere. I don’t know HOW you two have the exact same memory but clearly, we’re not gonna make any progress this way.”

“Hey, Impulse.” Zedaph turns pointedly to the real Impulse. “How did you get that scar on your thigh?”

“From an arrow wound during the season six civil war,” Impulse and Impulstor reply.

A split second later, Impulse realises what his friend is doing. He lifts his shorts leg just enough for the small scar to become visible. “This one.”

The other three turn to Impulstor, who realises he’s in trouble here. He may have Impulse’s memories but they don’t share a body. Impulstor remembers the exact moment Impulse got that injury but he wasn’t actually there. He didn’t live it; Impulse did.

“Impulse, if you’re the real one, show us the scar,” Tango says sternly.

Impulstor hesitates, his slightly narrowed eyes flickering from Tango to Impulse.

Suddenly, Impulstor takes off running, deliberately slamming into Tango as he does. Tango tumbles to the ground and slides right over the edge of the farm with a terrified yell.

Luckily, Zedaph reacts quickly and grabs his friend’s wrist. This stops Tango from falling long enough for Impulse to take hold of his friend’s other hand, and the two pull Tango back to safety.

“Oh my gosh, are you okay?!” gasps Impulse. “You almost went over!”

Breathing heavily, Tango starts to speak but cuts himself off as he finally registers the bandage around Impulse’s head. “I-Impulse, did he hurt you?”

“What?” Impulse frowns, before remembering his head injury, which is already mostly healed. “Oh, yeah. He ambushed me in my base and knocked me out and stuffed me in the hollow space in one of my pillars for like five hours or so.”

“Oh my god...” Tango squeezes his eyes shut. “I-I’m so sorry…”

“Wh-What?” Impulse stares at him. What for?”

“For not realising he wasn’t you. I should have seen it; I can’t believe I was so blind.”

Impulse blinks. “Oh, Tango, no. Please, please don’t feel guilty. It’s not your fault at all.”

“But…” Tango’s eyes glisten with tears. “I… I’ve known you for at least ten years. Surely I…”

“No,” says Impulse firmly. “Don’t blame yourself, Tango. Impulstor is… He’s me. Essentially.”

“What do you mean, Impusle?” asks Zedaph quietly.

Impulse hesitates. “Impulstor is my Hels counterpart. He looks like me, talks like me, he has all my memories. Tango, nobody can really blame you for not noticing. Dude, I know I’m the real Impulse and even I did a double take. You know I’m not observant at all but that was taking it to a whole new level.”

Tango gives a quiet laugh. “Yeah, you’re really not super observant. But still…”

“And hey, at least we now have a fairly easy way to tell us apart,” Impulse adds. “He won’t be able to fool you two again. But the rest of the server needs to be warned and briefed on how to tell us apart. Will you help me do that, both of you?”

“Of course I will,” says Zedaph immediately, putting his arm over Impulse’s shoulders. “We’re a team.”

Tango meets Impulse’s gaze.

Finally, he says, “I always knew you’d have an evil twin but I didn’t expect him to be LESS annoying than you.”

“Hey,” complains Impulse mildly. “Give me some credit for not trying to murder you.”

Tango laughs and grabs his friend in a hug. “Don’t worry, you’re still my favourite Impulse.”

Impulse hugs him back. “Good. Now, let’s find Xisuma and warn him about Impulstor.”

Tango pulls sharply away from Impulse and stares at him. “Wait… Is that his NAME? Impulse plus imposter?”

“Uh huh. Trust me, I didn’t choose it.”

His friend bursts out laughing. “That’s GREAT! Oh my god. That sounds like something Zed would come up with.”

“I know, right!” Zedaph laughs.

Impulse can’t help a laugh too. The tension and fear that’s been controlling him for the last few hours has mostly melted away now that his best friends are safe. Impulstor might still be out there but with a little luck, he won’t be able to fool the rest of the server the way he fooled Tango. He’s sure he’ll see Impulstor again, though.

But the real question is: how soon?

#hermitcraft #impulsesv #tangotek #zedaph #vaunna’s requests

66 notes · View notes

mergeman · 4 years ago

Text

Toweled off part 3.5

Lex's POV:

I had been taking my former friends everywhere. They lived in my car as I tried to find anyone they responded to. I finally turned around and headed towards work I threw them both in my gym bag as I went inside. I entered and the young man at the reception desk quickly looked up and gave me a nod. I proceeded to the employee locker room to change into my work outfit. Even though it had been several weeks since I learned truth I'm still amazed that I'm only 2 months old and not a grown man in his 30s.

I left the lockers and proceeded to locate my next client. I scanned the gym spotting the trio of college students. The blondes are the son's of the owner and the dark haired one is their best friend Dylan.

Dylan spots me and runs my way as he does my bag begins to vibrate and tug me towards the young man. (What the fuck!!) Why Dylan, was my first thought but the white towel was almost leaping from my bag as he approached. I threw Dylan the towel he grabbed it and nothing happened, Dylan had a confused look on his face.

Dylan's POV:

I was waiting around talking with my 2 best friends Cain and his younger brother Able. Yes their parents named them that because they're names are Adam and Eve. Adam owns this gym and he is the one who took me in after my mother kicked me out. When he learned what had happened he respected the situation enough and asked me what my new name was. After that Adam and his whole family only ever referred to me as him or Dylan my dead name is never brought up.

Fuck. There he is walking out of the lockeroom like a freaking adonis and I have the privilege of being in Lex's presence. Lex knows my story and has been working with me. He has really helped as I get used to my physique. I run towards him and he just tosses me a towel it looked kinda dingy but when I cought it, it was warm like it had just been laundered. Lex was staring at me like I was going to explode but after a second he muttered something under his breath.

We went to the matt and Lex put me through my cardio paces. As he led me over to the equipment racks I used the opportunity to wipe some sweat off my forhead.

"Help me" a voice rang in my head. I looked around but only Lex was near and the voice was higher then his. "Please Help" I didn't know why I wasn't freaking out but the warmth of the towel was soothing me. I looked up only to find that Lex was about 10ft away standing at the rack and looking at me. Not wanting to disappoint him I picked up my stride and caught up. Lex picked the weights and proceeded to show me what arm exercise I was doing. I grabbed a weight and mimicked his movements while the towel hung around my neck.

"Help I need to escape please"

I almost dropped the weight but caught myself. Looking around it seems like no one else could hear the voice.

"Please I'm trapped in this towel"

Fuck they said the hormones might mess with my head but I've never felt this before.

"Please I want to live"

"If you set me free and can make you like Lex."

That caught my attention.

"Lex was once small and weak too but my bro made him into a man as a thanks for freeing him" The voice was getting stronger and I could hear that whomever this was sounded about my age.

"All it takes is another" "2 are needed for me to live"

The voice was pounding in my skull, I went on auto pilot through Lex's routine. The thought of being like Lex was a far off fantasy. Yes I could pass as a guy in most situations but to actually be one. I. I. I wanted it so badly. This was my dream to be a man. I could feel the towel grow warmer as my resistance crumbled.

"All we need is one more" I glanced at Lex "NO" "we cant use one who has already been chaged." The voice cried out with intensity.

The cooldown had ended and Lex motioned me to go get changed. I head towards the employee lockeroom. Adam had been so understanding that he granted me this space with the private changing rooms. I turned the corner to see Cain and Able undressing as they had just finished their sessions as well. They looked up smiled and then went to finish.

"YES!!!!"

The towel came alive and extended itself towrds Cain surrounding his head. I was frozen but Able jumped over the bench, half naked and tried to pry one corner off. Only for the towel to wrap itself around his head too.

"Hmm I have both I need to live"

No!!! My chance was not going to be taken like that. I clenched the end that was still on my shoulder and threw the towel over my head as well.

Blackness. I could feel the towel contract as it brought the 3 of us together. My shoulders are touching my adopted brothers and I could feel them trembling as the towel expanded to cover us all.

"Its to much" "there's to meny" "it hurts" the towel's voice was screeching throughout my brain and my body started to vibrate and I could feel myself falling apart.

Huh

What happened

Why am I on the ground?

Why is my body so sore?

Fuck

I groaned and opened my eyes but even that hurt. As my vision cleared I could make out another figure on the ground facing me. He opened his eyes and we stared at each. My memories appeared in my mind with a loud PoP. I was the towel made fleash. I was Dylan made whole I was Cain and I was Able. All of them were me and I was all of them. I was something new and so was he. The stanger/not was also all of them. The towel's last moments were of the strain of holding the three. So just before the moment of completion he tore and was made 2.

I just stared at his dark wavy hair and stubble adorning his jaw. A name came to me but not mine.

" Cable" "Dain"

We both said at the same time. Dain.... the name completed me. We helped each other up and stood infront of the mirror. As I took in the blond hair, the beard, i casually flexed my new musces. The last vestiges of Dylan felt a thrill at finally being a man and the towel only was happy to actually feel again.

Reality started to warp around us as new memories of this life began to file in. I am Dain and Cable is my fraternal twin. We are older then any of our makers at 28 but our parents are still Adam and Eve. Just now they had us in high school. Dad is still the owner of the gym where we are both trainers. Our parents are great in any timeline. Only here they accepted when I came out as gay and Cable came out as Asexual. There were a lot of questions of course, but we are both loved.

We need to talk to Lex though. There is still one towel left to free.

130 notes · View notes

hotchley · 4 years ago

Text

when death finally comes

Surprise lovelies!!

I had the sudden urge to kill Hotch, so here we are. I killed him. It’s not happy at all and there is no comfort and I kinda hate it and I’m not sure most of it makes sense, but I wrote it and I am proud of it, so now I’m subjecting all of you to it :)

A special thank you to @whump-town for encouraging my writing and saying that killing Hotch kinda cleans your palate. I will hold onto that information.

Trigger Warnings: major character death, blood, child abuse, implied suicidal thoughts

read on ao3!

In the end, it is not merciful.

It is not expected or beautiful.

It is not poetic. Nor is it peaceful.

It is not what he deserved.

Because what he deserved was old age.

A hospital, where the lights would convince him of a better future. Where he knew what was coming and could prepare his final words and one last smile, if only to comfort the family that would definitely be stood until the last possible moment.

He deserved a care home, so Jack would not ever have to associate the apartment with the feeling of death. He deserved a care home, because it would imply that Jack was older and had his own family. It would mean that Haley's life could be celebrated with a smile that was more accepting than sad.

He deserved Virginia, the only home he had ever known. Because when Haley exploded into his life in a flurry of costumes and dances that he could never quite master, that place became his home. Her embrace felt like the love he had never received.

And even when her embrace morphed into avoidance and hesitance, she had been home. The only person that could see him human. When she died at the hands of a serial killer, he thought that was it. He thought he would never recover. But he did, and Virginia started to warm again as the team started to find reasons to see him and Jack.

He deserved love, safety. He deserved a long life that he would be proud of. He deserved to see Jack's college graduation, Henry's highschool graduation, Penelope's daughter, Spencer's wedding. He deserved to witness everything that just wouldn't be the same without him before he was laid down to rest one final time.

He deserved to be held.

He deserved so much more. He always had. But happy endings were not made for people like him.

They were not made for heroes that could save everyone but themselves because nobody ever taught them how to. They were not made for men that could look everyone but themselves in the eye. They were not made for fathers that wished for their son to be better, without ever realising that they themselves had been better.

They were not made for the terrified little boy that had grown into the scared man. Because that little boy had never been taught what it meant to be happy. That scared man had never understood the difference between safety and joy.

Mercy did not come for those that had scars that would never quite heal, no matter how much surgery was carried out. It did not come for those that believed the blood of so many innocent people still stained their hands.

It did not come for people that had been forgiven by everyone but themselves.

What Aaron Michael Hotchner- and god, he still hated his middle name, forever tainted by the memory of his father and all the pain he inflicted on those he was supposed to protect- deserved was peace.

What he got was as far away from that as the universe could manage.

He was still a few years shy of his sixtieth birthday when it happened.

It was a basement in Seattle. Seattle, which he had always loved, with everything he was, until David Rossi came to find a serial killer that would get away and only cause more and more pain after he was found.

It was a basement in Seattle because even after all these years, he was a hero. He had never learnt how to walk away from anyone or anything. He had never stopped believing that good would trump bad, even when the villains and the unsubs just kept winning.

It was dark. Because he hadn't seen the mans' face before he was taken, and they certainly would not risk him seeing it now. Not now they had worked out who it was. The former Agent Aaron Hotchner, who had beaten a man to death with his bare hands. Who had come back from everything the killers he fought had thrown at him.

Who had stared into the abyss and not even flinched.

It is slow. And painful. And he is aware the whole time that the life is leaving his body, and no matter how hard he tries to fight it, he can't. He is frozen in place, terrified as the scars he tried so hard to never look at are reopened. The blood drips onto the floor beneath him and he feels his eyes flutter shut behind the blindfold.

He was so tired. It would be so easy to give in. But it would've been easy to give in as Foyet plunged the knife in. Too easy to stop fighting as he fell down the stairs after finding Haley. Even easier to resign after Peter Lewis made him watch the family he had always vowed he would die for be murdered right before his eyes.

So he tries not to give in, but eventually, it becomes too difficult and he is forced to let go.

When Aaron Hotchner dies- is brutally murdered for trying to protect a young woman from being mugged- he is alone. He is alone and he's not old enough to get his state pension. The EMTs can't even try and attempt to revive him. His son is unreachable because his phone died whilst out at a party, even though he told his dad he was studying.

Jack never recovers from the guilt that the last thing he said to his dad had been a lie. The team had been on a case. Jack couldn't make the phone call. He hadn't processed it himself. He kept expecting his dad to walk into the apartment and offer to make pancakes or complain about his knees, even though he refused to use the cane.

Jessica lost her brother, and wondered when it would finally be her turn. The only family she had left was her nephew. Everyone else- her mother, her father, her baby sister and her little brother- was gone.

The team couldn't even pretend that his death had been swift and painless. They had seen enough murders and studied enough signatures to know what caused immediate death and what dragged things out. Derek identified the body. It had taken him longer than he cared to admit. Because the body on the ground was not the Aaron he had known.

And they never caught the culprits. Even with their sloppiness and poor skills, the team never managed to find them. It was like they had just vanished into thin air. But none of them ever stopped searching. Their newest profiler- a woman already hardened by life and its horrors- worried that they would all eventually become Jason Gideon.

Haunted by the one person they should have been there for but failed to save until every victim with soft brown eyes, or messy black hair, or a broken son, or so many different things, started to look like him.

Dave's eulogy was beautiful. Derek's was a testament to the Aaron that had existed before everything fell apart. Jennifer's reminded everyone that he had always been a father, even before Jack was born. Penelope spoke of the side he was so careful with- the one that held onto her presents like they meant everything to him, and in some ways they did. Emily's poked fun at him the way only she could, even though tears were falling onto the paper. Spencer spoke of the trust Aaron had placed in him, and the man he had taught him to be.

Jack couldn't read his. He was so angry. At his father for always needing to be a hero, instead of being a father. At the team for not finding the killers. At the world for leaving him an orphan, even if he was close to college graduation. At George Foyet for not killing them all that fateful day, if only so he would not have to live without his parents.

Aaron Hotchner died, a hero, a father and a friend, without ever realising just how much he was cherished and adored.

It is not what he deserved.

It is nonsense. It is chaos.

It is unexpected and destructive.

In the end, it is cruel.

It always is.

#major character death #tw blood #tw child abuse #tw suicidal thoughts #criminal minds #criminal minds fanfic #aaron hotchner #hurt aaron hotchner #hotch whump #sumayyah writes cm

53 notes · View notes

dreamsmp-au-ideas · 4 years ago

Text

Loser - Ghost of Presidents Past AU Drabble

Hi so this is kinda based off that scene from BMC, and I thought it was worth sharing.

———————————–

“Tommy…?” Tubbo whispered, gripping the handle of his office chair tightly, his knuckles white. Part of him at this point didn’t believe it, as much as he wanted it to be true. Tommy was dead, he saw the tower himself, Dream said he couldn’t find him… why was he even here? He thickly swallowed as he attempted to calm his nerves. He really was going crazy, wasn’t he? First, he saw dead Wilbur and Schlatt, then there was his murmuring problem, his panic attacks… now this. Was this Tommy’s ghost..? Tommy took a few steps toward his desk, a sword at his side. He looked to the floor, his eyebrows furrowed, not finding anything to say that the moment. His clothes looked ripped, scars littered his skin - what happened to him out there?! Gripping his chair to ground himself, he breathed deeply, fingers running through his hair as he tried not to panic anymore than he already had. “Tommy?” He said clearer, a plea in his voice that Tommy slightly winced at, eyes still trained on the floor.

He heard Wilbur shift behind his chair. “Well look who decided to make his grand entrance!” Wilbur shouted playfully. “Who cares if Technoblade never dies, it seems Tommyinnit will never die, hm?”

“I… I’m here to get Technoblade’s things back, that’s all.” Tommy finally said. “Techno’s holding Connor hostage outside, I was sent to get you.”

Tubbo’s eyes landed on the desk. “So that’s it, then? Nothing else?”

“Nice office.” Tommy looked around. “Didn’t change much from Schlatt’s time, huh?”

“Well, we kind of had other priorities to take care of that were more important than a renovation,” Tubbo said, standing to be more level with his former friend. “But I brought in a few things, and with a bit of TLC…” He trailed off, biting his lip. “I don’t understand how you’re here.”

Tommy crossed his arms. “What, so you just wanted to ditch me in exile forever?” He snapped, hurt.

“I thought you were dead, Tommy.” Tubbo looked up once more to make eye contact with him, moving toward him slowly to see Tommy’s face fall, looking toward him more in concern. “You are dead, right? I’m… I’m just seeing things again, right?” Tubbo’s hand reached out toward Tommy but stopped short of touching him.

“Tubbo…?” Tommy said, voice full of concern as he carefully moved to touch his shoulder, running his hand down his arm and taking him in - he looked incredibly professional, navy blue suit with golden tassels and black shoes that clicked on the wooden floor below them. He noticed, like who his eyes had begun to drain of blue, Tubbo’s had as well. His stance seemed off, and every so often he flinches slightly at Tommy’s touch, almost as if he was rejecting it altogether.

Schlatt glared at the touching reunion, his speech slurred slightly as he drank another sip of beer, exchanging glances with Wilbur. “Come on, kid. You’re the leader, he’s the one who’s holding people hostage and asking for ransom. You can’t just fall apart in front of the fucking enemy!”

Tubbo took a deep breath, the idea clicking in his mind that Tommy was real and here and alive, stepping backward and away when Tommy tried to grab his wrist again. “You… you said you’re here with Technoblade?”

“Tubbo, are you okay?” Tommy asked, his intent and goal of coming in here long forgotten. “You… you don’t look-”

“I’m fine, Tommy.” Tubbo snapped. “Now, let’s talk negotiations here, Technoblade’s ‘stuff’-”

“Is… is this about the voices?” Tubbo fell silent. “You… you said that you heard voices before I left, but… but you were gonna talk with-”

When Tubbo slammed his hand against the table, it was Tommy who fell silent, shrinking back. “I told you before I’m fine and I’m sitting here trying to speak with you for negotiations. Now, if you can’t even do that I suggest you leave before I make you myself.” Tommy is a bit taken aback but presses forward carefully… the face Tubbo had when he saw him wouldn’t leave his mind.

“There’s a way to get rid of them, you know. The voices.”

Tubbo bit his lip as he exchanged glances with Wilbur. “Tubbo, they can’t know you see us, they’ll think you’re crazy, and you know what happens with crazy presidents, how they think of them…”

“No, there isn’t. You can’t get rid of them.” Tubbo answered. “I’ve searched everywhere I could think of-”

“But not with Phil, you haven’t,” Tommy said. “He’s been reading these resurrection books to try and bring Wilbur back, and one of the chapters said something about how voices can be parts of a dead spirit, that you could dispel them with this ritual-”

“Even, even if there was a way, even if I thought that it would work, who’s to say I want to do it?”

“What? Tubbo, you don’t understand-”

“No, I don’t think you understand,” Tubbo said. “They’re helping me, they’re making me better, stronger. Finally, I get to be… finally L’manburg has one good President, one person who’s protecting people, who are moving the country forward, who’s making sure we have peace. Don’t you want that?”

“Of… of course I want that, Tubbo. I want that but not at the cost of-!” Tommy let out an angry sigh. “You’re just hearing voices, right? That’s it?”

“Why should it matter to you what happens to me anyway?” Tubbo snapped. “You’re the one who joined up with Technoblade, the guy who almost destroyed L’manburg, our country. You’re the one who’s thinking that I’m going crazy from the voices when finally I’m being listened to for once in my goddamn life!”

The room fell silent again.

“Tubbo, you don’t have a chance of going crazy from the voices-”

“Well, alright then, see-?!”

“You go could crazy trying to get them OUT!”

“Well, then…” Tubbo crossed his arms, moving towards the door. “Then I have nothing to worry about-” Tommy stepped in front of him, blocking the door. “Move, Tommy. You want Techno’s stuff, don’t you?”

“Move or what, Tubbo? We’re not done talking about this.”

Tubbo’s fists balled up at his sides, anger building in his chest. Did he really think he could push him around anymore? Did he really think he was that weak?! His voice was angry and demanding, almost like a slap in the face from the Tubbo Tommy knew.

“Get out of my way, Loser.”

#dream smp #dream smp au #ghosts of presidents past au #tommyinnit #tubbo #jschlatt #wilbur soot #submission #amintyworld #oh i love this #man i love eerything about this #drabble

45 notes · View notes

renaerys · 4 years ago

Text

PPG One-Shot: Mall Santa (Boomer/Mike and Brick/Blossom)

Summary: To earn a little extra cash over the holidays, Brick, Mike, and Boomer agree to help out their buddy Todd at a Mall Santa gig. Shenanigans ensue.

This one is for @snailbutters, @genovah, and @hanaokm. Merry Christmas and happy holidays! Enjoy some Boomike, Blossick, and Capri Sus on me.

[Cross-posted to AO3]

xxx

There were a lot of things Todd needed: a haircut, for one. His black hair was getting too long for gel and it was really pushing the boundary between greaser sexy and sad trash hobo. Money, for another. But like any other 21-year-old townie with a high school education and two restaurant jobs, he always needed money.

A new best friend, for yet another.

“I’m not your best friend,” Brick snapped as he tied a black tie around his neck. He needed to leave in ten minutes if he was going to be early for his dinner meeting with Oliver Morbucks.

Todd put a hand over his heart like it might fall out of the wound Brick’s words had stabbed there. “Dude, of course you are. I’m totally sorry if I ever gave you the wrong idea.”

Brick grimaced so hard he was sure he’d end up constipated. “No, you idiot. I know you think I’m your best friend. You’ve never shut up about it, even after we graduated high school. I’m pretty sure the whole fucking Peninsula knows it the way you go around shouting it when you’re blasted.”

Todd looked like he’d just received news that his favorite nana wasn’t dying of cancer after all. “Oh, cool. For a second there I thought I really hurt your feelings. You know you’re kinda sensitive, right?”

Oh god.

“What do you want, Todd? I have a really important meeting and I’m not missing it for your bullshit.”

Brick checked his reflection in the bathroom mirror in his one-bedroom apartment in downtown Townsville. It was a shitty hole-in-the-wall kind of place, but Brick was used to squalor. His break was coming, he could feel it. If tonight’s meeting went over well, he’d have a more steady revenue stream and, more importantly, the connections and clout the Morbucks name brought to open doors. All the long days at Red’s Auto Shop saving and scraping by would finally pay off, and just in time for Blossom to graduate from college. It was perfectly planned, meticulously manipulated, all down to this last pivotal dinner.

“Cool, no big deal! I just need to know if you’re free this weekend.”

“Free to do what?” Brick indulged him, because Todd was one of the few people on this planet who wasn’t 100% intimidated by his very presence.

“To help me with this Mall Santa gig I got. Harry Pitt was supposed to be my number two elf, but he ate some bad prawns and they had to, like, airlift him to Citiesville General.”

Brick stopped everything he was doing and glared at his second-to-best friend, which was a key fact because second was not the same as first. “What the fuck did you just say to me?”

“I know, right?” Todd knew his way around Brick’s embarrassingly small bathroom, opened up the hair wax, and fixed Brick’s styling job. “Dude always had a weak stomach, you remember. But you don’t fuck with bad prawns. I mean, obviously.”

Brick swatted Todd’s hands away and checked his reflection. It was definitely an improvement. “Not that; the Mall Santa thing, obviously!”

“Oh, yeah. So you’ll help me out?”

“Fuck no.”

“Aw, Briiiiiiick,” Todd whined.

Brick grabbed his dinner jacket from the closet barely big enough to fit a small, starving child. Todd, who had latched onto Brick in the seventh grade like a goddamned barnacle and never let go no matter how hard Brick tried to push him away, followed. “Not if you paid me.”

“You’ll get paid! It’s $20 an hour!”

Brick hesitated over the threshold. “That’s higher than minimum wage.” It was higher than his hourly rate at the garage too.

“Seasonal gigs, man. That’s how you win.”

“It’s seriously fucking not.”

Todd, one of three people in the universe who actually cared about Brick on a personal level even though he wasn’t obligated by blood, made his blue eyes big and wide in a way that reminded Brick of Puss-n-Boots from Shrek, Todd’s favorite movie. “C’mon, bruh. Do your bestie a solid? Just this once? I really need the money and they won’t let me keep the gig without two elves to fill in. So please? Pleeeeeeease?”

And Brick, former scourge of Townsville, a Super with the power to literally raze the planet if it so much as tickled his fancy, and the dictionary definition of the boy every father dreads his perfect, pretty little girl falling for against her better judgment, cracked like an egg.

“For fuck’s sake,” he groused. “Just text me the time and place and get out of my face already.”

Todd punched the air with both fists. “Yes!! Oh, hell yes! I love you so much, dude.”

“Blow me.” Brick checked his watch. Shit, now he was merely on time.

“I’d consider it an honor,” Todd said, probably literally serious.

xxx

Boomer rolled glitter on his cheeks and around the edges of his dark blue eyes with the help of a compact as he huddled behind the North Pole set on the first floor of the Townsville Mall. When he was satisfied that he sparkled like the tinsel-festooned Christmas trees in Santa’s twelve-by-fifteen-foot “forest” themselves, he discreetly re-emerged just as the latest child slid off Santa’s lap.

“Merry Christmas, Dan!” bellowed a red and white-clad Todd behind an enormous, curly beard. “Remember to brush your teeth!”

The little boy ran back to his parents, who were having a word with the photographer about purchasing a picture of their son on Santa’s lap. Before Boomer could follow them, Brick was quick to cut him off.

“Where the hell were you?” he demanded. Sour as an un-sugared plum in his festive, candy-striped elf costume, Brick may have absolutely intimidated the seven-year-olds waiting in line with their parents for a turn on Santa’s lap, but Boomer only allowed him a bemused smile.

“Why, I was making toys for the good little boys and girls who came to visit us here at the North Pole,” Boomer said in a raised voice. He looped his arm through his brother’s and let his power surge with enough force to turn Brick around and face the crowd that was definitely within hearing range. “Isn’t that right, Elf Mursten?”

Brick pushed back with inhuman force, but Boomer held his ground with a smile as bright as the glitter on his cheeks as a little girl in overalls trotted forward.

She giggled. “I like your hat.”

“Thank you!” Boomer gushed, and he tipped his pom-pom-topped cap. “And what’s your name?”

The little girl giggled again. “My name’s Alynn.”

“Well, Alynn, why don’t you step right up and take a seat on Santa’s lap? I’m sure he has a great present for a cool girl like you. Right, Elf Mursten?”

Brick glared medieval torture at him, and he managed a smile that showed too many teeth to be anything other than life-threatening. “Of course, Elf Buller.”

Boomer’s smile tightened.

“Ho ho ho! Come on over, Santa doesn’t bite,” Todd said.

“What a psychotic reassurance,” Brick said soft enough for only the Super brothers to hear.

“Hey, Brick?” Boomer said, just as softly. “Cheer the fuck up.” He gave his brother a bone-crushing squeeze around the arm and broke from him. Brick could be a sourpuss when he wanted to be (all the time), but he wouldn’t mess up Todd’s Mall Santa gig when he’d bothered to show up and actually put in the effort at all. Complain as he might about Todd’s exuberance, Brick had always come through for his best friend since the seventh grade.

Boomer, on the other hand, had been very happy to accept Todd’s offer to work the two weeks leading up to Christmas. The hours were reasonable, the pay was good, and Boomer loved children. It was easy money in between local shows he and his garage band had booked over the holidays.

Plus, the photographer had a nice rack.

“Okay, Santa, Alynn. Look over here and say ‘jingle bells’!” A flash went off, and Mike Believe stood to his full height behind the tripod he’d set up for the day’s pictures. Even in reindeer antlers and a bright, red-painted nose, Mike filled out every fold of his brown Rudolph outfit almost to the point of popping a button. His broad chest puffed out when he put his strong hands on his hips and grinned brightly like he wouldn’t pick anywhere else to be right now.

Their eyes met, and Boomer flushed and smiled like a fool.

When Mike winked back at him coyly, his heart leaped into his throat. Mike had gotten home from college just two days ago, but the three weeks he had off for Winter Break would surely fly by like they did every year, and Boomer was determined to spend every moment together.

A tug on Boomer’s green tunic drew his attention. “Can I take a picture with you? Please?” the little girl asked.

Boomer beamed and scooped her up onto his hip. “Of course you can. Hey, Mike? Can you take one of us, please?”

“You bet! Get in close, now.” Mike readied his camera.

“Oh, wait a sec. Why don’t you take this too?” Boomer removed his festive hat and put it on Alynn’s head. It was big on her, but she laughed happily.

They posed for the picture, and Boomer hugged her cheek to cheek.

“Thanks!” The little girl tried to give him his hat back, but he pressed it to her chest.

“You keep it. Merry Christmas. Remember to be good, okay?”

Alynn’s father was waiting with a hand for her to take when she ran back to him, yammering about how she’d met Santa and his super cool elf friend, and Boomer watched them go.

“You know you’ll have to pay for that hat,” Brick said.

Boomer sighed and ran a hand through his cornflower hair. “You know I look better without it.”

Brick frowned deeply. “Uh-huh.”

“If you keep frowning, your face will stick like that.”

“Moron.”

He always had to have the last word. Brick went to stack the empty boxes wrapped in bright, shiny paper, which was probably more productive than blowing up the entire display. Boomer left him to it. It was time for their mid-morning break, anyway.

Todd got up to stretch. “Man, who knew sitting could be so tiring, huh? Whack.” His phone buzzed, and he grinned when he saw the caller ID.

Boomer, however, had eyes only for Mike as the latter turned off his camera and put a sheet over the tripod to protect it. “Working hard, I see.”

When Mike smiled, his dark eyes crinkled in the corners. He had a face made for smiling. “Oh, you know. Just helping out some friends.”

Like Brick, Todd had asked Mike to help out behind the camera for this gig. Mike didn’t exactly need the extra cash given his lacrosse scholarship that covered his college expenses, but the three of them had been as thick as thieves all through high school no matter what Brick said when he was annoyed. No way was Mike going to bail on the chance to help out a bro.

“This is cute,” Mike said, running a thumb over Boomer’s sparkly cheek.

“If only I could convince Brick to wear some,” Boomer said, lacing his fingers in Mike’s as they shuffled to the side of the exhibit behind a blinking Christmas tree for a bit of privacy.

Mike chuckled. “That’ll take a Christmas miracle. But anyway, I don’t want to talk about Brick right now.”

Their kiss was soft and mostly chaste, considering the venue, but Boomer didn’t mind at all. He rose up on his toes to lean into his boyfriend’s superior height and smiled into their kiss. Even in the middle of the Townsville Mall with shoppers mere yards away, for a few seconds Boomer got lost in the fantasy of the forest and the snow drifts, bright lights and magic that came around only once a year and had always touched his heart in a way nothing else quite could.

“Babe! You got here quick!” Todd’s excitement and a small commotion around Santa’s throne drew the lovers’ attention, and Boomer reluctantly broke the kiss. His Super hearing quickly picked up on what was going on.

“What is it?” Mike asked.

Boomer smiled wryly. “That Christmas miracle you wished for. Come on.” He took Mike’s larger hand in his and pulled him back toward the front of the display, where Todd had scooped up a very small, very fashionable Asian woman in his arms.

“Oh my god, don’t do shits in front of the innocent children, Toddy.” Hana patted her high bun and smoothed out her oversized black jacket once Todd released her.

“Hey, I just missed you is all,” Todd said with a genuine smile like he had really, truly missed his girlfriend since this morning when they had last seen each other.

“You guys are too cute,” said Bubbles with a giggle. As usual, she was adorable in blonde twin tails and a holiday-appropriate sweater dress. Shopping bags hung from both her arms, also as usual.

“Right?” Hana said, her deadpan façade melting completely as she beamed at her closest friend.

“No contest.” Bubbles set down her small nation of shopping bags. “Oh! Hi, Boomer!” She dashed to hug him in a flash of blue, and he caught her easily. “Oh my gosh, I love your glitter. You look like a supermodel!”

Boomer laughed and hugged her back. “Thanks for letting me borrow it. I really owe you.”

“Don’t worry about it. Oh, but you definitely need some touching up. Here, let me just…”

Mike had wandered over to Todd and Hana. “Hey, Hana. Are you staying for the holiday?”

Hana shrugged. “Yeah, my art show isn’t until after New Year’s. You know, I’m always looking for more models.” She raised her eyebrows suggestively.

Mike laughed. “I’m honored, but I’m really nothing special, honestly. You might try Butch.”

Todd guffawed. “Oh man, Butch is, like, one of her top models! She painted him for what, six weeks last summer, babe?”

“Seven,” Hana said, dead serious.

Mike smiled nervously. “That’s a lot of inspiration.”

“He is very inspiring,” Hana said, deader and more serious.

“That dude is goals,” Todd said, totally unironically.

“I guess I can’t argue with that,” Mike said.

“Aaaaand done.” Bubbles stepped back to admire her handiwork. “Honestly? You’re the most beautiful elf the North Pole ever employed.”

Boomer snickered. “Don’t tell Brick that.”

“Don’t tell me what, now?” Brick emerged from his useless empty box stacking task, glitter-less and severely lacking in Christmas cheer.

Bubbles gasped, right on cue. “Brick! Where is your glitter? Get over here.”

Brick made a weird face. “What are you talk—hey!”

Bubbles all but accosted him with the glitter pen. Hana cheered and applauded, and Todd joined in because he liked to cheer and applaud in general.

“What are you—get off!” Brick shoved Bubbles hard, but a flash of pink caught her before she could crash into anything.

Blossom peered around her totally unfazed sister, a tray of lattes in one hand and her perfectly sculpted eyebrow raised. “Brick,” she said.

Brick swallowed. “Blossom.”

She looked nice in leggings and a sweater dress that matched Bubbles’ style, except where Bubbles’ was white, Blossom’s was a scarlet that rivaled the shade of Brick’s eyes.

“I brought you guys coffee,” Blossom said, her eyes trained on Brick even as she held out the tray.

Mike took the tray before it could become collateral damage in whatever was going on between the two of them.

“Here you go.” Mike offered one to Boomer, who gratefully accepted it.

“Thanks!”

“I thought you weren’t getting home until tomorrow,” Brick said, as if he and Blossom were the only two people there.

“Change of plans,” Blossom said. “Problem?”

Brick seemed to remember what he was wearing and snatched his elf hat from his head. He bunched it up between his hands like that would hide his imagined shame. “It’s fine.”

It wasn’t fine, clearly. But it wasn’t Boomer’s place to intrude. He would have been extremely happy for it to end there, but sadly Blossom, like his brother, had a flair for the dramatic and an affinity for the center of attention.

She sauntered up to him and smeared the bit of glitter Bubbles had managed to draw on his cheek before he’d shoved her off. “Good,” she said, half an invitation and half a challenge.

Brick didn’t bend easily. Boomer knew his brother as well as he knew himself, and he knew Brick didn’t relent, never gave in unless he was well and truly beaten, which was rare. But he slackened now, lips parting and eyes falling. Even though his arms stayed stubbornly at his sides and he didn’t do something as scandalous as hold his girlfriend’s hand in public, he melted under her touch and attention.

“All right! Bloss, you’re back early! This is massive, like, supernova massive,” Todd said. “Hey, I know! Let’s throw a party at mine tonight! Brick said you weren’t coming back for another couple of days, so this is like a cool early Christmas present to all of us.”

Bubbles gasped. “Oh my gosh, yes! Let’s all go to Todd’s tonight, just like we used to. I’m calling Robin right now.”

“We can make it a real Christmas party,” Blossom said. Somehow, she’d gotten ahold of Bubbles’ glitter pen and now smeared a generous amount on Brick’s cheeks until he gleamed without suffering a nuclear meltdown. A Christmas miracle, indeed.

“You’ll wear the Santa suit,” Hana said. Demanded.

“Ho ho ho! You got it, babe.”

“That thing’s a rental,” Brick said. “And it’s, like, 75 degrees outside.”

“If he gets too hot, I’ll hose him down,” Hana said.

Brick smartly decided not to press her on that one.

“I like your elf costume, Brick,” Blossom teased. Maybe.

“I’m burning it as soon as I get paid,” Brick said.

“I thought it was a rental like Todd’s?”

He hesitated, trapped by his own logic, and she laughed softly and kissed the side of his mouth. Brick froze and played it off like it didn’t affect him, but his eyes were drawn to Blossom’s lips for the next six whole minutes. Boomer really didn’t get why he had to make everything so damn complicated.

“Hey, hombres, our break is up and I see a super cute kid waiting to sit on the softest lap in Townsville,” Todd said, sinking back onto his candy cane throne and patting his lap.

Brick visibly cringed.

“It could be worse,” Mike whispered to Brick. “At least this time we get to keep our shirts on.”

Boomer smiled at the memory of Todd’s last seasonal gig he’d roped Brick and Mike into over the summer. The shirtless carwash had admittedly been one of his more rewarding part-time jobs, and Boomer had the photo evidence to cherish the memory extremely fondly.

Blossom and Hana retreated behind Mike while Bubbles finished up her phone call with Robin and Brick admitted the next child on set.

“Welcome to the North Pole,” he said with all the cheer of an old tire. Nonetheless, his cheeks dazzled. “What’s your name, kid?”

She looked up at him but didn’t say anything. Boomer noticed her shyness and decided he better intervene.

“Hey there,” he said, taking a knee so he could be on her eye-level. “Merry Christmas.”

That alarmed her even more, and she hugged Brick’s leg.

“What the—” Brick put his hands up like he didn’t know what to do with them. “Great.”

The girl’s parents were busy talking to Mike about the picture packages and didn’t seem to notice what was going on.

“Uh,” Boomer said, ready to flag them down before the little girl got scared or started to cry. They’d been lucky this morning with only one child throwing a temper tantrum out of the tens they’d seen.

“All right, kid. I hope you have a good grip.” Brick floated off the ground with the little girl clinging to his leg and flew over to Todd’s throne.

Boomer was so flabbergasted by his brother’s gross disregard for this child’s safety in front of her parents that he was momentarily stunned where he kneeled. It was over in about two and a half seconds, with her parents none the wiser and the little girl still in one piece, miraculously. Brick peeled her off him and dropped her on Todd’s lap.

“Name,” Brick demanded. And then, reluctantly: “…To check you off the Nice List.”

The little girl looked up at him with wide-eyed wonderment, or maybe fear. “Morana.”

“Morana. Super. Tell Todd—I mean, Santa—what you want. And smile for the camera.”

Todd didn’t miss a beat and wrapped his arms loosely around her to hold her safely in place. “Morana, that’s a pretty name. Wanna tell me what you want for Christmas?”

Morana pointed at Brick. “That one.”

Brick turned as red as his messy man bun. Todd wheezed.

“Oh, yeah? Well, that one’s taken, but I bet I can get you a picture together. How ‘bout it?” Todd asked.

Boomer was up and moving in a blue flash. “That can be arranged.” He shoved his brother with a healthy burst of Super strength, and Brick all but fell on his knee next to Todd’s throne. Boomer waved back at Mike for the picture.

“Big smile now!” Mike said cheerfully, and snapped the picture.

“What the hell is up with these kids?” Brick asked when Morana skipped back to her parents and started chattering at them in a language Boomer didn’t recognize but assumed must be all good things from the way she grinned from ear to ear. “They get bolder every year.”

“Or you’re just getting softer,” Boomer teased.

“Yeah, right.”

Blossom laughed at something Hana said on a nearby bench, drawing both their eyes.

“Whatever you say, man,” Boomer said.

xxx

Todd’s party was a nostalgic and long-overdue affair later that evening. Unlike Boomer, who had to make do in a small studio apartment on the outskirts of Citiesville where the rent was more manageable and his commute didn’t matter when flying anywhere took only minutes, Todd lived in a big house he took care of for his often absent, globe-trotting parents. Blossom, Bubbles, and Robin had taken the initiative and strung up Christmas lights, while Boomer created and managed the playlist for the night. They had a good crowd with old friends from high school and new ones from work and college gathered for no excuse other than to have a good time.

Butch, Buttercup, Mike, and Todd had set up beer pong in the basement, where most of the festivities were taking place. As usual, the shit talking and macho bravado had soared to ludicrous heights.

“Come on, BC,” Todd goaded. “Money shot, right here.” He fluffed his Santa beard, the ends of which were damp with beer. Buttercup had one cup left to hit.

“I’m about to straight-up tea bag you with this ping pong ball, Todd, I swear to god.” Buttercup tried to focus on her aim after too many beers and the distraction of Todd’s stupid Santa beard.

“Do it, fucking do it,” Butch said, bobbing on the balls of his feet and slightly manic with the competition and holiday cheer, probably.

“I’m gonna fucking do it!”

“I don’t think you can fucking do it,” Mike said.

“Ohhhhh!” Butch hollered when Buttercup lost her temper and threw the ball too hard. It bounced off Todd’s beard and fell on the floor, leaving the last cup untouched.

“Mike, you cheater!” Buttercup shouted.

Mike burst out laughing.

“All riiiiight, the Toddster’s final shot. You filming, babe?” Todd asked.

Hana, across the table from Boomer, had her phone out and poised. “Kick their asses, Toddy.”

“Yeah, bring it on, Toddy,” Butch jeered.

“Oh, it’s about to be brought.”

“Oh god, please, you peaked in high school,” Buttercup said.

“Hey, he plateaued,” Mike said. “There’s a difference.”

“Just take the damn shot!”

Todd shot, hit the rim of the solo cup, and missed. Buttercup and Butch threw up their hands and whooped. They were still in the game, and the stakes were even higher now.

Boomer squeezed Mike’s arm in a silent excuse and went to change the music…only to find Brick and Blossom making out in the hallway like it was their last night on Earth.

The music was fine, he decided. No need to interrupt Brick and Blossom trying to fuse with the wall and face his brother’s cock blocked wrath. Discreetly, Boomer snapped a picture on his phone and texted it to Bubbles.

[Boomer: Shooketh]

Bubbles’ reply was lightning fast.

[Bubbles: More like shattered!!]

[Bubbles: Better get out of there before they catch you lol 💀]

After another hour (and Brick and Blossom’s reemergence from the wall in one piece with not a hair out of place because god forbid), Boomer and Mike decided to head out early. They went back to Boomer’s apartment, where a very excited Pomeranian welcomed them home.

“Hi, Pumpkin!” Mike brightened like the sun and scooped up his favorite girl, left in Boomer’s care while he was away at college. “Who’s ready for a walk?”

They walked Pumpkin and let her tire herself out running around the suburban neighborhood where it was too late at night for any cars to be out. A half hour later, they were curled up on the loveseat with Pumpkin snoozing in her fuzzy bed at their feet and an old black-and-white Christmas movie playing on low volume on the television.

“Hey,” Boomer said, lifting his head from Mike’s chest to look at him properly.

Mike set aside the hot chocolate he’d been drinking and pulled Boomer up by his waist. “Hey, you. What is it?”

Boomer smiled. It was silly, really. “It’s nothing.”

“Oh?” Mike returned his smile and leaned closer. He smelled like soap, a hint of chocolate, and something else that made Boomer want to bury his face in his neck.

“Just happy,” Boomer said.

“Really? I can’t tell.”

Boomer sat up a little higher. The neck of Mike’s old lacrosse jersey he wore dipped down his shoulder, too big on him and softer than a cloud. He pressed a chaste kiss to the underside of Mike’s jaw. “How about now?”

“Hm, nope, I don’t think I quite got that.”

Boomer threaded his fingers though Mike’s short, dark hair at the nape of his neck. Feeling coquettish, he gave his ear a nip. “How about now?”

Mike shifted on the couch and pulled Boomer’s bent legs onto his lap. His voice was as warm as the hot chocolate he’d been drinking. “I think I’m starting to get a vague understanding.”

Boomer laughed and painted a trail of kisses along Mike’s jaw, up his chin. He pressed a strong hand to his chest and put a little power behind it. Centimeters apart, he could taste the lingering heat of the hot chocolate on Mike’s breath. “And now?”

Mike’s eyes drooped and darkened. His hands slipped around Boomer’s waist, under the jersey, a silent entreaty. “I think you can do a little better than that, Angel.”

The secret nickname broke Boomer’s resolve, and he kissed his boyfriend full on the mouth with all the confidence and shamelessness he couldn’t give him that morning at the mall surrounded by children and their parents. Mike’s shirt soon found its way to the floor along with Boomer’s borrowed jersey. The loveseat was too short to accommodate Mike’s height comfortably, and after a few moments Boomer held him close and flew them to the bed in a flash.

“I’ll never get over how hot that is,” Mike said, breathless.

Boomer blushed, unable to help it. He was careful with his strength around Mike, but sometimes the X bonded to his bones pushed him to the raw, carnal boundaries of humanity. Mike’s hand on his cheek drew him out of those spiraling thoughts.

“I mean it,” Mike said. “I love that part of you. And I trust you completely.”

Words did not come easily, nor did they seem appropriate in that moment. Boomer bent to kiss Mike again and pull him as close as he could get. Wrapped up in the warm sheets and each other, Boomer’s silly little thought that he had never been happier grew and swelled to heights he never could have imagined before Mike. They lay there together, lazy and sleepy, as the credits of their forgotten holiday movie played on the television.

“One more semester,” Mike said, “and then I graduate.”

“I can’t believe you’re almost a college graduate,” Boomer said. “It feels like you left ages ago.”

“Four years is a long time, but it’s not forever. And you should get ready.”

Boomer looked up at him. “Ready for what?”

“To move, of course.”

“Move?”

“Hey, I love how cozy your apartment is, but I’m pretty sure Pumpkin would appreciate her own room once we’re living together full time.”

Boomer sat up properly. “You… You want to move in together? With me?”

“Of course! The only question is, where do you want to go?”

Boomer covered his mouth. Of course he had thought about getting a place with Mike, but that always seemed like the distant future. What if they didn’t stay together? What if the long distance was too hard? What if Mike met someone else at college? Brick didn’t talk about it much, but after a few too many drinks one night the year Blossom and Mike both left for college, he’d confessed how afraid he was that he would lose her forever. How can the old be exciting and fun compared to the amazing, new adventures she would be having?

But from the way Boomer had caught them all but absorbing each other at Todd’s tonight, Blossom seemed perfectly happy to keep him. And Mike…

“You’re serious,” Boomer said.

“I’ve never been more serious.” Mike took his hand and kissed his knuckles carefully. “I can’t wait to start our lives together.”

Boomer could have cried. He almost did. Life was hard, even for a Super like him. With endless bills to pay and the occasional monster to dispose of, sometimes he felt like he was being pulled in too many directions without anyone there to help pick up the slack. But this… This was his.

“Me too,” Boomer said. “And I don’t care where we go, as long as it’s together.”

“Well, cool. In that case, if you’re not opposed to it, was thinking farther north, like Metroville. There are some great photography jobs there that I want to apply for, and the music scene is bigger than it is here—”

“Yes! A hundred percent yes, let’s do it. When do we leave?”

Mike laughed. “June 1st, as soon as they hand me my diploma.”

Six months. It had a date now. Unthinking, Boomer threw his arms around Mike’s broad shoulders and hugged him tight. “I’ll mark my calendar.”

“It’s a date.”

Incidentally, they did not get much sleep the rest of that night.

xxx

I told myself I wasn’t going to do a ton of fluff, but damnit all, Boomike is SUPER CUTE and I couldn’t help myself. Let them have the happy ending they deserve. Thanks for reading!

#PowerPuff Girls #powerpuff girls fanfiction #powerpuff girls fanfic #Blossick #PPG Reds #Boomike #Capri Sus #Todd x Hana #Brick #Boomer #Blossom #Todd #Mike Believe #february fic prompts

59 notes · View notes

chibinekochan · 4 years ago

Text

Angel in Hell Season 2 part 3

part 1 | 2 |

Gen. reader insert.

Words 2k

Taglist:

@gothjuulpod ; @purgatoryhall ; @sibit360 ; @a-personnamed-ace ; @romy350-romyakari

-------------------------------------------

Simeon comes not long after. You have never been so glad to see his concerned face.

Your face lights instantly up, strange how Simeon simply entering a room brightens your day so much.

Simeon lets out a deep, relieved breath when he sees your smile. He must've been so worried about you.

He looks at Beel and Belphie, who are laying on the bed without a care in the world.

Then Simeon looks at you. "What happened?"

Belphie answers nonchalantly. "Satan lost it and is now a danger to our angel here."

Simeon is very surprised. "Wait, I don't quite understand."

"I don't think anyone can completely understand him right now, but he suffers from this obsession with MC being back. He just can't grasp the truth." Beel casts his eyes down, concealing all his sadness. He folds his hands, like this will prevent him from falling apart.

You nod. "It must be so hard for him to see me." Your heart feels heavy.

"This is not your fault," Simeon reassures you.

You find this hard to believe.

"He is right. Even if you would look different, I don't think it would change anything. Ever since MC… Ever since that day. Satan has been getting more and more obsessed with finding their soul, bringing them back. I tried talking sense into him, but he is like a black hole." Belphie sounds frustrated.

Beel nods. "Yeah, he only hears what he wants to hear. That's what caused him to get so angry before you came… he just wouldn't stop about MC coming home. When I notified him that it's not like that at all, he just lost it. It was frightening." Beel looks defeated, guilty like he somehow did something wrong.

Seeing his own brother like this must be so painful. You feel bad for Beel.

"This must've been very scary for you. I have already made arrangements for you to stay in our room, just in case. After the stunt that Lucifer pulled yesterday, Diavolo came personally and put an extra bed in the room. It's a bit cramped now, but it will be best for you to stay with us. At least until Satan and Lucifer see reason again." Simeon seems very troubled, but at least he has taken action.

"I think you are right." You don't know if it's the right choice, it's just the best thing right now.

You know with Simeon and Luke you will be safe.

"He is right, and don't think too harshly of Satan right now he is…" Beel tries to find the right word.

"Crazy." Belphie chimes in.

"He is so sad it consumed his mind." Beel can't seem to find the right words, but you get the sentiment.

"I don't think he is bad. He is just lost." You can't really understand how much this must torment Satan, but you feel deep in your heart that he wasn't always like this. In moments like this, you are grateful for your connection with your former incarnation.

"You are so kind." Simeon smiles at you, with mingled emotions on his face.

"Don't worry, I will talk to him again. He will eventually understand." Beel gives you a light smile.

"Better give him a good beating." Belphie shakes his head.

"I will do that if it's necessary." Beel doesn't even hesitate.

You didn't expect Beel to go this far. "I hope it won't come to that. "

Simeon shoots you a glance filled with sympathy. "I hope so too."

Beel nods in agreement, none of you want to fight. Especially not your family.

There must be a better way. You clench your hands.

Simeon places a hand on your shoulder. This somehow causes your body to relax.

“Don't worry there are many people here that will support you no matter what," Simeon speaks with a soothing tone.

The warmth of his hand assures you of his support, and you feel grateful.

"Thank you, Simeon, and thank you too." You look at Simeon and the twins, not wanting to neglect them for their help.

You have to put together something delicious for Beel once everything has calmed down.

"No problem, make sure to eat something later." Beel has seen the food you left behind in the kitchen.

"I will try. Take care of yourselves." You smile at both brothers.

Belphie casts a slight, troubled smile, your way. Beel nods with a light smile. "We will."

With this, you and Simeon leave.

Simeon looks around, he must be on edge with the latest threats. You feel like a considerable burden to him. He has been nothing but kind and supportive, but here you are causing problems.

Simeon notices the look on your face. "No one is blaming you for this mess. Don't think you have to fix it in any kind of way."

You look at him, unsure of what to say. You know he is right but yet you have this deep urge to fix everything. Deep in your hearts are feelings that don't seem to be your own. Probably from the human that you once were. It's painful.

You barely nod.

Simeon adds nothing else until you are in his and Luke's room.

The room is indeed a bit crammed with the extra bed squeezed in between the other beds.

It almost looks like one huge bed.

"Hey Luke, I'm sorry to intrude. I didn't even ask you for permission to stay." You feel guilty about this.

"Don't mind it. I think we should have done this from the start." Luke is very supportive, which gives you immense relief.

"It seemed to be the right move at the time." Simeon has a complicated expression.

"How about some tea. I have some freshly made cake." Luke has everything already prepared. He made your favorite cake and has this hopeful expression on his face.

You can't say no to this. "Sure, thank you, Luke."

In your head, you apologize to your body and sit down with them.

You eat some very delicious cake, but you just can't shake this feeling. It's been nagging at you ever since yesterday, maybe even earlier.

"Don't you think it would be best for me to return to heaven?" With pleading eyes, you glance at Luke and then at Simeon. Your eyes linger on his face. He bites his lips.

"I don't want to tell you what you should do, but you should know that would mean they will cleanse you." Simeon is very conflicted about this.

You look at your own hands. "Wouldn't that be best for everyone?" Your heart aches. With you being here how will everyone ever heal?

"No, it wouldn't be best for everyone," Simeon says sternly as he almost yells, you are surprised by his sudden tone shift. It's almost like he is upset by this thought.

You are confused as to why this would trouble him.

Simeon notices your surprise. "Sorry, I don't want to get loud." He looks away.

"You might not know this yet, but cleansing would mean your memories will be completely erased, and you will be retrained. You might never see either of us ever again, and even if you do, you wouldn't recognize us…" Luke ends with a pained tone in his voice.

Your eyes widen. "I had no idea." Your memories with Simeon and Luke are so precious, you don't want to lose them.

"He is right. That is why I don't want to take you back to heaven. At least not without the archangels agreement to leave your current memories intact." Simeon looks at you with a complicated expression.

You draw a sharp breath. This means that Simeon is currently defying the rules of heaven for you. "Why would you do that?" You know very well what this could mean for Simeon. He could receive severe punishment, even if the archangels agree to Simeon's request.

"I simply don't want to lose you." Simeon gives you the saddest smile that you have ever seen.

A simple answer that bears so much weight. Your mouth opens and closes, unable to say anything. Your head is a mess.

"I feel the same way. You are a precious friend to both of us, right Simeon?" Luke chimes in.

Simeon hums in agreement. The word friend makes you feel complicated. You don't know why. Maybe you just don't want to know.

You finish your cake. A swirl of thoughts in your head.

You excuse yourself to take a shower.

Your head just starts to go off all on its own.

Leaving might be the best for the brothers but yourself? You aren't sure about that.

There seems no way out of this mess. If you stay you hurt people and are in possible danger. But if you leave you will lose yourself and the people dearest to you.

Then there is Lucifer's threat. You can't be sure he wouldn't try to get you back no matter what.

That seems to be the biggest issue right now.

The last thing you want is a celestial war. Could you prevent that by regaining the memories of MC?

It doesn't sound like it would be easy at least.

What would happen if you would remember all the old memories? You would essentially become two people.

It probably would solve some issues but what about you?

You might lose yourself.

Unable to let that thought go, you finish up and approach Simeon once more.

Luke has gone somewhere else.

"Do you feel a bit better now?" Simeon still sits at the table.

"I couldn't shut my brain off." You feel almost bad about this.

"It's alright you are dealing with many things right now. Take your time." Simeon gently offers you a seat next to him.

You gladly take the offer, even when you also feel like you could just curl up and sleep for the next hundred years.

"Something kinda bothers me." You sigh and look at Simeon. Where should you even start?

"You can tell me anything. You know I have your back no matter what." Simeon gently encourages you.

He is right, there isn't anything that you can't tell him.

You take a small breath. "What Satan said about getting the memories from my previous life back… Is that really possible?" You anxiously bite your lip.

Simeon thinks for a moment. "Usually it's impossible, but your case is different. I'm not sure why but the connection between your current and your previous life wasn't completely severed. The proof being your looks but also the fact that your pacts remain. Frankly, I have never seen or heard about anything like this. So to make a long story short it could be possible." Simeon himself seems unsure about this.

"If it's possible what would, that mean for me?" Your eyes waver when you look at Simeon. His expression mirrors your uncertainty.

"I'm unsure. You might end up losing your mind, or your memories will just flow into each other. This is completely uncharted territory. I think I will have to call an old friend for some information on that." Simeon isn't sure what to say, but he has an idea.

"An old friend?" You wonder who it is.

"He was an exchange student here before. He is a very powerful magician from the human realm." Simeon smiles with a slight hint of fondness.

"So this wizard knows about MC?" You wonder what kind of person he might be.

"Yes, we all got along pretty well." Simeon nods.

"Will he help Lucifer or us?" You aren't sure if you can trust him.

"Well, he will definitely find this very interesting, and I'm certain he will leave the ultimate decision to you." Simeon smiles, somehow that gives you some confidence.

"Sounds pretty good." You smile weakly and suddenly you start yawning.

"You must be very tired. You should rest." Simeon feels bad he just noticed.

"You are probably right. I just don't think that I will be able to sleep." Your head feels all jumbled, just as much as your heart.

"That's alright, just lay down and try to rest. I will watch over you." He speaks so softly, yet his words have a deep impact on you.

"I will do that. Thank you, Simeon." You almost add more, unsure of what more you want to tell him.

You lay down on your brand-new bed. The sheets smell and feel unfamiliar. It's hard to get comfortable. You fight with the blankets, trying to find a way to get comfortable.

The issue isn't the bed; it's you.

"Want me to sing you a lullaby?" Simeon sits on his bed. He is very close, you can see him with his usual smile when you peek from under your blanket.

You laugh softly. "You know I'm not a child right?"

"Of course, I just thought it might help. It's alright if you don't want it." Simeon almost seems offended when you call yourself a child.

You are unwilling to miss this rare opportunity to hear him singing. "Please sing for me, Simeon." You plead with him, even giving him some puppy eyes.

Simeon laughs a little. "Alright, I might be a bit rusty." He clears his voice. "Close your eyes first." Simeon is uncharacteristically embarrassed.

You smile and do as he tells you.

His song is an old angel lullaby, he is singing so softly that it soothes your head. Slowly your breath calms down, and you find yourself fast asleep. You must be very exhausted.

Before your consciousness fully slips away you can hear Simeon whisper, "Good night."

It also feels like he caresses your head but that might be nothing but wishful thinking on your part.

---------------------------------------

Coming next: Our favorite shady wizard boy.

#obey me #angel in hell #obey me fanfic #obey me!#omswd #obey me angel au #obey me shall we date #obey me simeon

46 notes · View notes

killerbunnyff2 · 3 years ago

Text

The Places We Come From

Ved has never really been in this part of The City before. He vaguely remembers rolling through it in a vehicle when they first arrived, but he hasn’t spent much time in some of the outlying sectors. The buildings were much older and a bunch of them were crumbling. It was a lot quieter out here than anywhere else. When he asks Cloe about it, she casually mentions a lot of kids stayed out because there were still a lot of bodies of victims of the virus about. He tries not to look on edge, but he would much prefer not to run into any corpses. Cloe is incredibly blasé about the whole thing and the ruins don’t seem to bug her so he doesn’t question it. She seems distracted anyway, so they travel in silence.

When he had asked her to take him to where she grew up, she had given him an odd look but agreed. As she leads him by the hand down an alley towards a small inlet with even more dilapidated apartment buildings and side streets, he is beginning to understand why. Ved knows that he has never asked her much about her life before the virus. He was expecting to see a small home or condo not unlike the ones in the suburb he grew up in.

It never occurred to him that her history could differ from his own.

This is cemented when Cloe leads him to a barren lot. The entire block is blackened wood and ashes with litter here and there. She stops in front of the outline of what must have been a small apartment building and just stands there. Ved’s eyes go from her to the destruction back to her. If he hadn’t figured out before that this would not be a pleasant walk through memory lane for her, he realized it now.

“This is where you grew up?” He asks uneasily.

Cloe nods solemnly. “Home sweet home.” She answers, more sarcastic than not. She wanders over and picks up an old beer bottle and a small but bitter smile comes to her face. “This was probably my Dad’s.” She says quietly. “It was his favorite. He spent most of his time drinking.”

Ved’s eyes go wide and he has nothing to say to that. He watches as Cloe gathers some wildflowers and puts them down in the bottle in front of what was the main entrance. She steps back and puts her head down for a moment in silence.

He fidgets around awkwardly as Cloe sits on what use to be a curb. Her hair is down today in a single braid (Ved wonders what it looks like untied, as he has never seen it undone. It has to go pass her waist). He joins her and clears his throat. “What happened to the building?”

“Burnt down. There were a lot of dead bodies after the virus, so I guess at some point someone decided to just set the whole place on fire. It was all old, moldy wood and falling apart anyway. I didn’t know it had burnt down until I came back up this way after being captured.”

“Captured? By who?”

“This cult called The Chosen. Long story.” Cloe leaves it at that. Ved can’t believe what he is hearing. He was aware, of course, that there were some crazy Virt tribes out there, but a cult? He fidgets more next to her as he tries to remember the whole point of this was to try and get to know her better this time around.

“Do you want to leave? I didn’t mean to upset you.”

She shrugs her shoulders. “No, it’s fine. It’s been a while since I’ve thought about my family. It was me, my mom, my dad, and my aunt.” She sighs as she looks around guiltily. “Sometimes I can’t remember what they looked like.” She says sadly. Ved puts an arm around her and they sit together quietly. He notices her eyes keep going to the building still standing across from her former home. He nudges her.

“What’re you looking at?”

Cloe points at a window on the third story. “My best friend used to live there.” She smiles. “We used to send each other messages from our windows since we lived on the same story. Her name was Sylvia.”

“Where is she now? Did she get out of the city when the virus happened?”

Cloe shakes her head. “Kinda. She left on the Children’s train. It...” She trails off.

“It crashed.” He finishes for her glumly. “Jay’s first girlfriend was on there, too. From when he was in middle school.”

They go quiet again after that. Ved sighs. This had all gone a lot differently in his head. What he thought would be a fun little afternoon now seems too morose for the both of them. He looks around and notices that even though the apartment has a heavy metal gate in front, her friend’s window is adjacent to one above a fire escape.

“Does that fire escape lead to your friend’s apartment?” He asks as he points up. Cloe nods. “We should go up and check it out.”

“How? The ladder is pulled up and the gate is pretty solid still.”

Ved gets up and walks over to the building. He studies the ladder for a minute before he raises his arm and uses his laser to hit something. The ladder comes sliding down with a loud crash. Cloe gets up and joins him.

“Nice shot.”

Ved smirks, quite pleased with himself. Even Java might be impressed with that one. He climbs on the ladder and tests his weight on it before heading up. Cloe follows close behind. When he reaches the window, he does his best to pull it up or move it to no avail. He tells Cloe to move to the side as he takes his jacket off and wraps his hand in it. He then breaks a hole in the window large enough for him to reach through and unlock the thing. He uses his jacket to brush off any glass before the two of them climb through.

“It’s almost like you’ve done this before.” Cloe says as she ducks under.

“I have.” He says with his usual smirk as he follows her.

The apartment smells musty and is covered in dust. Cloe is immediately drawn to a shelf and begins picking up picture frames. She blows a cloud of dust off a small frame before flipping it around to show Ved. “This was Sylvie.” She tells him. The picture shows a young girl about nine years old with long brown hair. He’s noticed the apartment is filled with photos, most of them tall skyscrapers or bridges, but plenty of family shots.

“I thought my parents liked to take pictures.”

“Sylvie’s mom was a photographer in her spare time.” Cloe explains as she wanders over to a door with faded flower stickers on it.

“Is that her room?” He asks. Cloe nods and then hesitantly puts her hand on the door. She stays still as if deciding what to do. “Go on.” Ved encourages. “We’re already here.”

Cloe takes a deep breath and opens the door. The room is quiet and dark with only light from the single window illuminating it. Ved watches as Cloe slowly walks in and takes a look around. She walks over to a little white dresser and looks through a small album that was laying on top. He sees her gasp and then laugh as she peels something from the book.

“What’s that?”

“A picture from our last Halloween.” She says as she hands the picture over. He sees a much younger Cloe in a blue checkered dress with very short pigtails and a basket. Her friend is dressed up as a green witch and is carrying a stuffed monkey. He hands the photo back. Cloe folds it and shoves it in her side pocket before she sits on the dusty bed and quietly takes in her surroundings.

Ved moves back out to the front room and begins looking around. He walks towards the bedroom on the opposite side of the apartment but stops midway down the small hallway. Besides dust and age he can also clearly smell the familiar scent of dead bodies. He immediately turns around and decides to check out the computer in the corner by the window.

Ved looks through their set up, takes a couple of wires he knows he needs back at base, and is deciding if he wants to open the tower for salvage when he notices a small box tucked besides it. He recognizes it immediately as a storage device. He picks it up gingerly and shoves it into his back pocket. He also notices a rather pricey looking camera and picks it up. On a hunch he opens up the side and retrieves a memory card. He shoves that in his pocket as well. Cloe returns from the bedroom and motions towards the window.

“We should head back. It’s almost sun down. I told Salene I would be back before it got too dark.” She says quietly. Her eyes are red like she’s been crying so Ved doesn’t argue (he was going to try and talk her into sleeping over but the mood for that is shot). He helps her back out the window and they make their way back towards the mall.

It’s almost been a week before he sees Cloe again. Ram has had him working a project non-stop, but he was able to get a message to his girlfriend via a reluctant Dee (She of course had taken the opportunity to remind him how breakable his head was if Cloe came home in tears again). He is up to his neck in coding when he hears her let herself in. “Hey Clo.” He calls over his shoulder as he begins to save his progress.

Cloe comes over and gives him a peck on the cheek before looking around and scrunching her nose. “How long have you been holed up in here?”

“Uh, when was the last time I saw you?”

“That was a week ago!” She exclaims.

Ved shrugs. “Ram needs this done by tomorrow.” He swivels in his chair to face her. “I was putting everything in manually before I figured it would be easier to make a program do it for me. I’ll have free time again soon.”

“Clever.” She says with a smirk. “So what was so urgent you risked Dee’s wrath to get me here?”

Ved holds up a small metal box. “I found this at your friend’s apartment. It’s an external hard drive.” He explains as he plugs it into his tower and begins opening folders. “You weren’t kidding when you said her Mom was a photographer. It took me forever to go through it, but I found this.”

Ved turns his monitor towards her. He opens up a video and lets it play. On screen there is a small party taking place in a park. Cloe gasps as she recognizes it, hand over her mouth.

“That’s Sylvie’s last birthday!” She mumbles out. A younger Cloe is on screen helping Sylvie try to swing at a piñata. She eggs her friend to aim higher and higher until Sylvie over swings and falls on the floor with a grunt. Little Cloe helps her friend up and Sylvie begins swinging again. Cloe laughs as she watches herself and Sylvie both take turns trying to destroy the swinging princess with wings.

“That was one tough fairy.” Cloe says with a smile.

“Do you mind if I skip ahead a little? There’s one part I want to ask about.” Ved asks. She nods and he moves the video forward until there is cake and singing. Sylvie and Cloe frame the shot, little Cloe singing so enthusiastically she is louder than the adults. The camera moves as the person behind it gathers a wide shot of everyone present. As it flips across from the girls, Ved pauses the video as he looks up at Cloe.

“Is this your family?” He asks.

Cloe wordlessly nods as her hand reaches out to touch the monitor. Ved winces at the thought of smudges but lets her continue. Her hand moves over a woman with long black hair in blue sweats, a man in flannel and jeans siping a beer, and a younger woman in a green dress whose hair is in twin buns, not unlike Cloe’s hair.

“My Mom, my Dad, and my Aunt.” Cloe says, sniffing back tears.

“I found pictures, too. I don’t have anything to print them on, but I can. I just-“ Ved is cut off by Cloe kissing him.

He doesn’t mind in the slightest.

When she pulls back, she has tears in her eyes, but the look she gives him is intensely happy. “Thank you.” She tells him. “I thought I would never see them again.”

“It’s no problem.” He tries to sound casual but he is still dazed. He closes the program and unplugs everything. He hands Cloe a CD. “I saved everything I found with your family to this. Even the old computers at the mall should be able to run this.”

“You didn’t have to do this.” She says gratefully, holding CD close to her.

“Everyone should be able to remember their life from before.” He says solemnly and with a seriousness that is rare for him.

Cloe looks at the CD in her hand and back at him. “Do you have pictures of your family, too? From before?” She asks carefully. The last time she had asked him about his parents he had brushed her off rather quickly and forcefully.

Ved is quiet for a moment before he gets up and grabs something he has hidden behind the painting in his room. He brings back a small black cube and plugs it in. Before she knows it, a couple pictures pop up on the screen.

“You were adorable!” Cloe exclaims as Ved rolls his eyes. There’s a picture with Ved no older than five smiling with Jay, who looks about ten, and their parents, all of them in dorky holiday sweaters. Both of their parents are just as blonde as their boys. “Your brother looks a lot like your Dad.”

“Yeah, everyone says that.”

The other picture is one of the boys and just their mother. Ved looks about ten and is sporting a bratty pout. Jay looks their age but is already broad in his shoulders. Their mother is clearly older in this one and there is something sad about her eyes. All of their eyes, really.

“Where’s your Dad?” Cloe asks. Ved goes very quiet and she can see his body go rigid. She is about to drop it when he starts talking.

“Dead. He got shot while he was working at a bank as a guard about six months before the picture was taken.” He answers quietly. Cloe’s mouth pops open in shock before she gathers herself and puts a hand on his shoulder.

“I’m sorry. We don’t have to talk about it.” She tells him.

He sighs and pats the hand she has on his shoulder. “It’s fine. My Dad was a big dork who loved video games, and miniatures, and dressing up for conventions. He introduced me to all my favorite things, including computers and programming.” He pulls up another picture of his Dad and him surrounded by electronics. “After he died, nothing was ever the same.”

Ved closed the pictures and swivels around to face her. “There was a time when my brother was my best friend, if you can believe that. He used to spend time with me and we told each other everything. Then one day Dad was gone and Jay just...” Ved shakes his head. “He stopped doing anything Dad loved. He became obsessed with school and charity work. No more video games, no more going to our game store, no more hanging out with me.”

They are both quiet as he returns his memory drive back to its hiding spot. He goes back to his desk and brings up a box of what Cloe assumes is the program he designed. Numbers start scrolling by as he watches it idly. Cloe points at the screen. “How much longer is that gonna take?”

“An hour, if I have my math right.”

“Could we hang out after it’s done?” She asks slyly.

“Well, yeah, but it’s gonna be dark in an hour. Isn’t your tribe gonna worry?”

Cloe smirks. “They would if they knew I was gone.”

Ved visually perks up, though he tries to shrug it off. “Then it’s cool if you stay.” He says as casually as he can manage.

Cloe just smirks and plants herself in front of his tv. “Can I play that game again?” She asks as she checks the game box to see if it was still inside.

Despite his best efforts to look cool, Ved can’t help but let out a small groan. When Cloe’s head snaps towards him he pretends to be yawning and stretches his arms out.

“Yeah, it’s still in there. Knock yourself out.” He tells her. She gleefully turns the system on and grabs a controller. He couldn’t understand why of all the games he had managed to amass she had taken a shine to the only horror game he had a copy of. He had tried to get her into games where they could shoot things together or race, but of course the stupid, quiet game with its horrifying monsters was the only one she was interested in. He does his best to ignore the creepy music blasting from his television. Despite his annoyance, he does sneak a peek of her yelling at some horrible worm thing as she tries to hit it with a pipe. He decides she can honestly be into anything she liked as long as he could see her smile.

He grins despite himself and goes back to work.

#The Tribe #the tribe #Ved #Cloe #Cledism #Vday

2 notes · View notes